The Inland Sea was calm, its waters glittering a deep turquoise colour as the sunlight glinted over them. The endless blue of the sky was broken only by the occasional wispy white cloud as it drifted overhead. The sun itself gave off plenty of heat, enough to have the crew of the Queens' Honour working in their loose trousers, shirts long forgotten.
The 'Honour' was a merchant trade ship, bound for Carthak. It had a crew of seventeen, twelve sailors, four officers and the Captain. The vessel itself was of average size, made of a rich oak with sails the same colour as the clouds that so lazily floated overhead, the Tortallan flag crackling merrily in the slight breeze.
Captain Solomon stood proudly on the bridge and surveyed his crew; normally he was a silk merchant, transporting hundreds of yards of the finest material in the brightest colours between the two great nations of Tortall and Carthak. This journey however was different, as well as the fabric they had a guest, a noble lady. Not only a noble but royalty, the Lady Evelyn of Naxen travelled to Carthak in relative secrecy aboard his ship.
"Aven't seen 'er ladyship this morning yet Captain, 'spect she'll be visiting the deck soon enough though."
Solomon tore his eyes off the deck and focused them on his companion, "What leads you to believe that Brock?"
"Argh me and Archie saw her 'ttempt some o' cooks porridge this morning."
The Captain let out a rich bellow of laughter at the man's frank assessment, "Any minute now then… "
The lady in question flung herself somewhat unsteadily up the stairs, she lurched towards the rail and just made it in time to be violently sick over the edge for what seemed like the millionth time.
Her world seemed to tilt alarmingly on its axes as the ship rocked from side to side, desperate hands turned white knuckled as she clung to the railing. Her mouth felt dry and her hair was desperately trying to escape its bonds as the sharp sea breeze tugged at it. Blonde strands seemed to be everywhere to the overwrought noble, for a single copper she would have cut it off there and then.
Alice followed her young mistress onto the deck at a more sedate pace, pausing briefly to glare at the Captain and his sailor who at the sight of Evelyn had exchanged amused looks and wry comments.
"There you go Mam." Alice started at the boyish voice before recognising it as belonging to Martin, the youngest sailor aboard as he handed her a glass of water.
"Hope you don't mind me saying but she's a getting worse." The concern in Martin's voice was genuine, he had been smitten by the Lady Evelyn from the second she had set foot on the boat but four days (had it really only been four?) of constant seasickness had robbed her of her famous looks.
Alice sighed and gave the young man's arm a motherly pat, "No, I can see it too but don't you be worrying yourself, a day ashore and some solid meals she'll be right as rain."
As she made the short walk across the deck to the rail where Evelyn was standing Alice apprised the noblewoman that she'd known from the day of her birth. It had been a day of great joy in the Naxen household when Evelyn was born, having already borne three boys Cynthia had been delighted to finally have a girl child to bare the name of her deceased best friend. Over the years that joy had increased as Evelyn grew to be as fair and willowy as her namesake, now however even her mother would be hard pressed to find Evelyn's famed beauty.
Seasickness and the salt air had both taken their toll, while her face had been slim before and her figure willowy now she could only be described as gaunt and thin, her once luminous skin now ashen. While her hair was the same golden blonde, falling in loose curls to the middle of her back and her clothes were immaculate (Alice had a gift with fabrics; no article of clothing would dare to crease while she was in charge) her sparkle, the spirit that had made people stop to take second and then third look was conspicuous in its absence.
Evelyn took a deep shuddering breath, desperately trying to regain some composure. She started like a skitterish young filly when Alice firmly prised her hand off the railing and forced a glass of water into it. It was a trembling hand that raised the cool glass to cracked lips. After a couple of gulps the acid taste in her mouth abated. She turned from the rail and tried to smile.
"Thank-you, I don't know how I'd cope with out you Alice." Her smile turned into something like a grimace, her stomach was cramping, desperate for something of substance. The pain shot up her side in a flash. Pride and a lifetime of learning what it was to be a member of the royal family kept her from gasping and doubling over. Before this hellish trip had become a necessity she had been a Queen's Lady and Thayet had not allowed for weaknesses. As a pupil at the convent too she had learned that to show weakness was to give the others material for mockery.
It was with this in mind that she straightened and in a somewhat futile attempt to hide the tremors wracking her body clasped her hands onto the railing behind her, leaning on it subtly for support when her traitorous legs threatened to give out on her.
Alice wasn't blind; no matter what methods Evelyn employed she'd known her from birth, known when she was scared and in pain. But Goddess Bless now it was as if pride and a sense of duty was all that was driving the young women. She had become a shell of her former self, retreating further within every day. Her lifeless eyes were what scared Alice the most and now she stared into them desperately looking for the fire that had previously occupied them, fighting down the growing sense of panic when she could find only blank resignation.
Evelyn momentarily forgot about her own discomfort when she noticed the fear in the older woman's eyes. Mithros, she had been so wrapped up in herself what if something had happened to Alice? Her eyes quickly appraised the woman taking in all her familiar features; her average height, chocolate brown hair liberally streaked with silvery grey strands and pulled fiercely back into a bun, all looked normal but her wide smiling mouth was drawn in a tight line and her eyes, her almost black eyes looked afraid.
"Alice what's the matter, has one of the sailors harmed you or said anything to make you uncomfortable?" As she asked the question her eyes scanned the ship and took in many of the mens faces as they watched the now familiar morning routine. They had seemed a decent bunch to her, harden sailors who had been amused to find that she had no sea legs, but her nobility protected her, what if one of them had preyed on Alice, a commoner?
While she tried to keep her voice calm and even it cracked a little at the end betraying her anxiety and fragile mental state, it was bad enough that she was a coward and had chosen to run away but what if her selfish actions had resulted in pain for her long serving maid?
Alice was bought back down to earth with a bump, Evelyn needed reassurance, and she needed some answers.
"Of course not! Mithros you always did have a rather wild imagination, probably because you weren't beaten enough as a child." Evelyn's posture relaxed slightly, "You know fine well I wasn't spoilt, as far as I can remember it was you did the beating." The two women smiled at each other and their memories before Evelyn tried again, "What's wrong then?"
Alice considered her charge for a long moment, she knew what she wanted to ask, all the same she knew all she'd get would be denials and reassurances. Still, it was worth a try; "Do you want to explain to me why you feel like there's no hope left for you? I know your physical weakness is due to the seasickness, but I've never seen you despair before."
It was as though a thousand shutters slammed down on the nobles face; she turned away from the older woman and grazed out at the blurry mass in the distance that was Carthak. Her thoughts were in turmoil, that wasn't a question she was prepared to answer.
Alice's hands found their way to her hips, dam it all to the Black Gods realm she was not getting away with turning her back! "Evelyn I demand an answer of Goddess help me I'll send for the Own to bring you home.
Evelyn spun back from the rail her eyes suddenly blazing with an unknown emotion: "If you send for the Own then you are signing my death warrant. If I go back there'll be no escaping him. Whether it be at his hands or my own death would find me."
Alice stepped back uncertainly, at times she forgot who her charge was and what she was running from, but here in front of her stood the Royal Duchess Evelyn of Naxen, considered by many to be the Third Princess of Tortall, and she fled from the man who would make her his bride, a man fifty years her senior who would in his own words 'rut with her' until she gave him an heir.
It was with a deep sigh that she gave up on getting any answers, "No you're right, there's no going back now.."
After the sun had set, sinking slowly and majestically beneath the emerging land of Carthak Evelyn found herself alone in the cabin she had been allocated. She was sprawled on her back fingers tracing patterns on her pillow while silent sobs shuddered through her body. As the tears seeped from under closed eyes they were wiped angrily away. This had been her decision she had to remain strong there was no going home now, not until she'd completed her task anyway.
She could still remember with an awful visual clarity the day Stone Mountain had caught her unawares in a deserted corridor; she had been on her way to the Own's barracks to visit Dom when his hand had caught her arm in a powerful grip. He had leered at her and groped her, trapping her body between his and the wall and thrusting hard against her, it had been the first time she had felt terror. No one had responded to her screams for help and Stone Mountain had only laughed cruelly at her fear. The next day he petitioned her father for her hand in marriage.
To add credibility to her escape plan she had asked Numair to test her gift, being pleasantly surprised when he expressed his opinion that with the right amount of training she could become a Black Robe in the healing arts. Amongst her despair it was a ray of hope, as well as escape she would be offered the chance to prove herself as something other than the King's niece.
Keeping her eyes shut against the world she dived through her memories to the night she had left the palace, it seemed several lifetimes ago but in fact less than a week had passed. It had been a cool clear night, the crickets had been chirping and the scent form the rose gardens had been almost overwhelming. There was a ball in progress, courtiers everywhere laughing and dancing everyone happy no one noticing the family that was being torn apart.
Her mother, her beautiful mother so calm and collected when faced with the vicious ladies of the court had broken down, begging and pleading with her only daughter, her baby not to leave. Her father, the man who'd taken her to important meetings, who'd let her grow up free and unrestrained had understood. He'd tugged her into a crushing bear hug, his eyes over bright, losing his little girl, he'd thought he'd had her safe, he'd been wrong. He only asked that the gods bought his daughter back to him safe and sound.
Her uncles, Raoul, and Jonathan she hadn't found the courage to tell face to face. When she was brutally honest with herself she knew it was because they could have easily picked holes in her story. It would have been far too easy to let them persuade her to stay, let them shelter her against the storm of Conservatives that would have descended. So instead she'd left them letters, she knew that was wrong, that they deserved better than that, and that she was being a coward but she simply couldn't have stood any more tears or despairing looks.
It was a while before she let herself come back to the present, a world where her family existed on a distant land. Rising slightly unsteadily from the bed she made her way towards the mirror that adorned the wall. A stranger stared straight back at her through emerald green eyes that were over bright and red, heavy dark bags seeming to have taken up permanent position under them. She attempted a smile in wry humour; she certainly wasn't the prettiest girl at court anymore.
Pursing her rose bud lips at the reflection she promised herself that one day, when everything had settled down and she'd passed her exams she would go back, back home.
A knock on the door ruined her somewhat solemn moment, a gruff sailor's voice calling to her, "My Lady dinner's ready," There was a pause before he added with something akin to amusement, "If you actually feel like keeping something down tonight, cooks getting all flustered, things you don't appreciate his cooking."
She laughed then, the sailor on the other side of the door jumped before a slow smile spread across his own face, he'd not heard the little Duchess make a sound like that before, it was rich and like clear bells were tinkling. Then the door opened and she slipped out, "You can tell cook that I adore his cooking, it's the sea I have the problem with!"
As Evelyn made the walk to the gallery she snapped out of her self-pitying mood. She was going to be a Black Robe and give all those back home a reason to be proud of her.