“Well,” she said, “should we put these pots on the terrace and then get on with our day?”
“They all need water,” Gray said. “We’ll put them on the terrace, and then give them a good soaking.” He grinned at all the people around him. “Looks like we found the treasure after all.”
“Where did you get that?” Theran said. He turned pale as he pointed to the bottom of the pot, where the broken piece revealed the compartment.
“It was in that jumble of old stuff,” Cassidy replied.
He shook his head. “I looked there. I didn’t find anything.”
You weren’t supposed to find it.
“It’s a wishing pot,” Theran said. “I remember that from the stories. The pots came from Jared’s family. The compartment held written messages, wishes.”
“Did you find a message?” Gray asked her, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
A message preserved for centuries. Hidden for centuries. A message for the Queen.
She shook her head. After she read the message, she would decide whether to share it with the others.
Gray helped her to her feet, and the twinges in various muscles changed her mind from taking a fast shower to taking a long, hot bath. The court could wait. The paperwork could wait.
As she reached for the old pot, Theran said, “I’ll take that one.”
Several people gave him wary looks, since his voice sounded sharp, but she looked at his eyes and ignored the voice.
That old pot matters to him. Its history. Its connection. Until the first two leaves break the soil, the pears won’t be valued. But the pot matters to him.
She stepped back and smiled. “Of course.”
Theran took the old pot and walked back to the house. One by one the other men picked up a pot and followed him.
“Do you think there’s anything left in there?” Shira asked as she looked into the chest and made a face.
“Not likely,” Cassidy replied. “The men can turn it over later just to be sure, but I think we found what we were meant to find.”
Shira gave her a long, odd look. “Theran’s part of the family wasn’t the only part that had stories handed down.”
Black Widow.
This wasn’t idle conversation, but she had the feeling Shira wasn’t willing to share her thoughts right now.
“I’d better get cleaned up, and get this cleaned up before Gray starts fretting.” She held up her hand.
Still giving Cassidy an odd look, Shira nodded. “And you’ll come by the healing room so I can take a look at that slice in your finger. Since you must have used Craft to keep it bleeding while you planted those pears, I imagine the wound is clean, but we shouldn’t get careless about such things. Not now.”
“What’s different about now?” Cassidy asked.
Shira smiled gently. “I think you’re right. Maybe we have found what we were meant to find.”
CHAPTER 20
Welcome, Sister.
Because you found this message, you have set the spells in motion that eventually will reveal a treasure that will help the people of Dena Nehele restore their land. There are no clues, as such. There is no map to lead you to a specific spot as there is in stories. But there are rules. Break the rules, and you break the spells, and what we have hidden remains hidden.
The First Rule: Tell no one you found this message. Tell no one you hold the key to finding the treasure.
The Second Rule: Don’t search for the treasure. Rule the people. Live your life. If you’re meant to find the next piece of the puzzle, you will find it as easily as you found the pot—when the time is right, and not before.
Thera is a gifted Black Widow and wove her spells extremely well. She cannot tell me for certain that the treasure will be found, only that there will be a time when it might be found—a time when Dena Nehele will need it the most. Since you are reading this, that time is now.
I wish you luck, Sister.
Arabella Ardelia, Queen of Dena Nehele
P.S. Most people call me Lia.
Cassidy folded the message carefully and vanished it before picking up the small gold key that had been inside the paper when she’d first opened it yesterday.
Thank the Darkness she hadn’t told anyone about finding the message in the compartment. The possibility of finding the treasure would have ended before it began.
“I have a message that has to remain a secret, and a gold key that fits an unknown lock,” Cassidy said. “Lia, could you have made it any harder?”
The search wasn’t meant to be hard, because she wasn’t meant to search.
Rule the people. Live your life.
“Neither is as easy as you might think,” Cassidy muttered as she put the key in a trinket box her father had made for her years ago. “Your descendant is a very stubborn, pigheaded man.”
Live your life.
Her life. Not the same thing as her duties as a Queen.
She might have to allow Theran to restrict her actions as a Queen, but it was time to reclaim her life.
When she reached the breakfast room, Ranon looked like he was about to be backed into a corner, Shira looked amused, and Theran looked wary. Powell was clearly lingering over his breakfast, and Cassidy didn’t think her Steward was waiting because he needed to discuss some business with her that couldn’t wait for an hour. He probably didn’t want to miss today’s chapter of the Grayhaven drama.
“Where is Gray?” she asked. He’d relaxed enough about being in the house to come in and eat with the rest of them, so she felt worry scratching her heart when he wasn’t there.
“He’s on the terrace, explaining the facts of life to the honey pears,” Theran said.
Cassidy clamped her lips together and didn’t dare ask what that meant.
Shira carefully spread some jam on a piece of toast. Since it was the second one on her plate, Cassidy figured Shira was doing it simply to have something to do.
“Do you play an instrument, Lady Cassidy?” Shira asked.
Ranon growled in response, so the question clearly wasn’t as innocent as it sounded.
“That depends on how you define ‘play,’ ” Cassidy replied, quickly filling a plate and pulling out a chair next to Shira. “I can read music, and I can pick out a tune on a piano. Why?”
“Gray thinks the honey pears would enjoy having someone play music to them for a little while each day, and I think you’re the only one he hasn’t questioned yet about your proficiency with an instrument.”
Ranon seemed to be giving his scrambled eggs a lot more attention than they required. Or deserved.
“Do you play?” Cassidy asked Shira.
“Drums,” Shira replied as Cassidy took one of her pieces of toast. “Too much sound for tender seedlings-to-be.”
Theran snorted.
Powell fiddled with his coffee cup but didn’t try to drink—and didn’t look at anyone else around the table.
“Ranon plays the Shalador flute,” Shira said brightly.
“I am not going to stand out there and play music for thirteen pots of dirt,” Ranon growled.
“I’ve never heard a Shalador flute,” Cassidy said—and watched the color drain from his face as he realized playing for the pear trees really wasn’t his choice to make.
“Whenever it gives the Lady pleasure,” Ranon said.
Either that phrase had remained in the training, or Ranon had been studying the books of Protocol.
Live your life.
“Speaking of music, Theran,” Cassidy began, noticing the way his body jerked and the wary look he gave her, “I’m planning to attend the outdoor concert. I heard this was a weekly event in the town. You and the Master of the Guard may take whatever precautions you feel necessary, but this isn’t a formal visit by the Queen, so discretion is preferred.”