Treacherous Witch

17. The Traitor, the Oath, and the Tree

"A promise is inherently magical, even more so under the light of the silvertree."
Interview with Queen Shikra III, as told to Master Anwen

To her relief, he hadn't touched her. She'd spent half the night awake fearing that he'd change his mind, but nothing happened. Even so, it had been difficult to ignore him: every shift, every breath, every creak of the mattress tangible evidence of his presence in the room. But she slept, somehow, and woke up to find he'd already departed.

What next? A tour of the city. Serpent's Crest was on the very tip of the coast, guarding Enyr from potential invaders, but the most common trade route was nearly a mile inland where the River Menlin flowed into the sea. On its banks stood Orlin, a city twice the size of Jairah. She wished that she could have explored its streets for herself, but a glimpse through the carriage would have to do.

They were shown the great house of Orlin's ruling family. Then the gardens, where glass sculptures swooped over the archways, a rainbow of colours reflecting the sun in dazzling shapes. In the afternoon they visited the racing tracks, where Valerie was thrilled to watch the horses and their riders whip up the dust in a sea of galloping legs. Her own limited experience of horse-riding at the palace seemed pedestrian in comparison.

Then, after their final dinner of the trip, Lord Avon excused himself from the post-dinner drinks.

"I'll leave you fine gentlemen with Lord Dryden," he said. "Be warned: I haven't beaten him at the card table for over a year, and he never lets me forget it."

The lords chuckled. Dryden gave a short bow as Avon rose, Valerie standing up with him. Once again, she caught Dryden's disapproving gaze on her, but he said nothing. Valerie departed the dining hall on Avon's arm. She thought they were going to bed and was glad of it after another tiring day, but instead of ascending the staircase Avon turned into the entrance hall.

Crossing the entrance hall and through the doors, they emerged into the warm night air where a carriage awaited them. Surprised, she looked at Avon, but he only nodded, indicating the carriage. Two guards manned the carriage: both of them Avon's men.

She climbed in, Avon following her. Horse hooves trotted around the gravel entrance and towards the drawbridge.

Valerie clasped her hands in her lap, suddenly unsure of herself. "Where are we going?"

"The Glasshouse in Orlin," he answered. "There's something I'd like to show you."

She didn't know what to make of that. They'd seen the Glasshouse already on their tour. It was one of the glass structures in the gardens, a fancy greenhouse full of exotic plants from around the world.

She settled into her corner of the seat, trying not to worry. Avon watched her. She didn't meet his gaze, but she could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Valerie clasped her hands more tightly in her lap and looked out of the window instead.

Thankfully for her nerves, the journey wasn't long. A half-moon shone down on the Glasshouse. Tiny lanterns lit the path to the entrance, but the greenhouse itself was dark and silent. She exited the carriage, Avon nodding at the two guards to stay put, and they entered the Glasshouse together.

The first room was fairly ordinary, full of flowering plants that reminded her of Master Anwen's greenhouse. Then Avon crossed into a second room where she was hit by a wave of tropical heat. Steam hung in the air. Jungle plants crowded over running water, a bridge crossing the centre of the room.

"Are we supposed to be here?" she ventured.

No one had met them. Avon put a finger to his lips. They crossed the bridge, but instead of going straight ahead to the next room, he ducked to the left, pushing past fronds of some large fern to a narrow path leading to a side door. Avon opened it, Valerie stepping through after him.