Delia Prance's Arc

Chapter 3 of 59

Delia did not sleep. She stood in her cottage at first light and knew that Nick's plan would fail. They would walk to the palace and tell the king the truth. But truth alone would not save the field. The king wanted the land for coin. She had to show him the land was worth more growing than sold. She needed proof. She pulled her worn herb book from the shelf. She opened it on the table and turned each page. Fever cures. Cough syrups. Salves for burns. Every remedy she made came from plants that grew in soil like her new field. She began to write. Not a plea. A list. Every family within a day's walk who had come to her door. The miller's boy she pulled from fever. The old man whose crushed hand she healed. Beside each name she wrote the plant that saved them. By dawn she had three pages. Fifteen names. She rolled them together and tied them with twine. This was her answer. Cut this field, cut these cures, and these people had nowhere to turn. The palace gates rose gold and cold. Nick walked at her side, jaw tight. Guards let them pass. They found the king in his hall. Rowan Rider was shorter than she expected, thick through the middle, his beard streaked with gray. He did not rise. "You planted my land," the king said. He looked at Nick. "You gave it." "I did," Nick said. Delia stepped forward before the king could speak again. She unrolled her pages on the long table. "These are the people your field feeds," she said. "Not with grain. With medicine. Every name here lived because of what grows in soil like this." The king read. He read slowly. Delia watched his eyes move down the list. She thought of his own bad harvest, the one Nick had spoken of, when a steward told him to stay quiet and wait. He knew what it meant to lose a field. He knew what a lie from a trusted man could cost. "My steward would sell this," Rowan said. He set the pages down. "For coin I'd spend in a year." He looked at Delia. "You take no coin." "None," she said. The king was quiet a long moment. "The field is yours. Keep it growing." He turned to Nick. His voice went flat. "You gave crown land behind my back. That does not pass. You will answer for it, not her." Delia's breath caught. She had won the field. But the king's eyes stayed on his son, hard and cold. She had saved her land by turning the king's anger where it belonged. Now that anger had a target, and it was the man beside her.