Sir Callie and the Dragon's Roost, page 19
“I know that,” Willow insists. “But lies grow from seeds of truth, don’t they?”
Elowen’s mouth twists down and she looks away.
But she doesn’t need to say it out loud. We all know it: The best lies contain the most truth.
* * *
The first sign of news is a commotion among The Roost’s residents at the creak of the ancient latch. Heads swivel, drinks are forgotten, conversations pause, all in favor of the newcomer.
I crane my neck, trying to see, then get up to perch on the back of the sofa.
Kensa is a returning hero.
The sight of the dragon still sets my blood ablaze.
I watch with interest, noting how the dragon takes the time to speak with each person, xir demeanor calm and…friendly?
Teo slips through the mass with a grin. “Told you it’d be easy!” When I don’t reply, xe follows my gaze and xir expression turns fond. “Kensa’s always badly missed when xe’s gone.”
But it’s more than that. More than a hero returning triumphant. It takes a while, but finally I place the strange familiarity of the scene.
It reminds me of Papa, finally riding home after an age away on duty.
“They love xem.”
“Of course,” Teo says. “Kensa has been here all the way from before the beginning. Xe takes care of every single person who finds their way here, and xe makes sure we all get a voice in Pioden. Xe’s the bridge between Pioden and The Roost, especially since Alis rarely leaves Pioden anymore.”
“But Kensa’s not even in Dumoor much anymore, right?”
Teo sighs and shakes xir head. “And even when xe is, xe’s mostly up at Pioden anyway.” Xir ears droop slightly. “It’s very different from when I first came here. It’s still good. I still love it. But I miss the way it used to be. It’s like the sun’s setting on Dumoor.” Xe gives an awkward laugh, scritching the back of xir neck. “That sounds dramatic, I know. I just wish things were back the way they were. Especially as these come in.” Xe reaches around to touch xir back. Through the thin fabric of Teo’s loose shirt, I can already catch shapes of wings straining against xir skin. “I need Kensa to be here so I can learn to fly.”
“How long d’you think till they pop?” I imagine enormous feathery wings sprouting fully formed right out of Teo’s back and squirm. I wonder if it’s like getting your adult teeth in. I wonder if it hurts.
But if Teo’s worried, xe doesn’t show it. I guess the excitement at the promise of flight overrides everything else. “Could be any day now!” Xe spreads xir arms wide. “I know they’ll be pretty useless for a while, but I don’t care! As soon as they come in, I can start shifting fully.”
“You mean into a whole dragon?”
Teo bounces eagerly. “Yup!”
I squint, trying to picture Teo as Kensa’s kind of dragon. That’s a lot of creature in such a small body!
“Are all dragon-forms the same?”
“No, of course not!” says Teo with the kind of laugh that makes me feel foolish for even asking. “They’re as different as people are different.”
I guess that makes sense. “What do you think you’re gonna look like?”
“I dunno.” Teo touches the blue scales freckling xir face. “Something pretty, I hope. I don’t want to be too scary.”
I grin. “I don’t think you could be scary even if your teeth were seven feet long!” Truthfully, I don’t think Teo could ever be anything like Kensa in any way at all.
I hope not, anyway.
Kensa finally extracts xemself from the crowd and comes straight toward us. Even though xir expression couldn’t be more neutral, even though xir teeth are safely inside xir mouth, warning goose bumps prickle all the way up my arms.
I force my biggest smile, like we’ve been besties forever and not, you know, trying to kill each other. “Hey, how’s it going?”
Kensa ignores the question. Up close, xe looks tired. “Alis has extended an invitation at your request. To all of you.” Xe nods to my friends, who are lingering uncertainly behind me. “Are you ready to go?”
“Now?” My heartbeat spikes. “Like…right this second?”
Kensa fixes me with a fiery eye. “Alis’s time is precious. Wars start and end in less than a second. You requested a meeting, and your request is being met—”
“Yeah, all right, I get it.” I look back at the others with a shrug of apology. “Now or never, I guess.”
Willow swallows hard, then steels himself with a curt nod.
Elowen’s chin is already raised, her expression fierce. “I’m ready.”
Edwyn looks like he’s here in body only. I don’t think we can ask any more of him.
“Oh,” says Kensa. “Alis asked me to pass on a message to all of you. She says…” The dragon sighs deeply, the audible equivalent of an eye roll. “She hopes you are hungry.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Food, however, has never been further from my thoughts as we follow Kensa on the long trek to Pioden. The dragon doesn’t speak. Xe barely even acknowledges our existence as we trot to keep pace. I guess we’re lucky xe doesn’t just transform and fly, leaving us to make our own way toward the Witch Queen’s castle.
It’s like dragons have a finite amount of chattiness between them, and Teo has all of it, leaving Kensa with, well, none.
And the trek to Pioden is awkward to the point of unbearable.
Out of The Roost and through the dense forest, dark even in daylight, then out onto the moors themselves.
Going from claustrophobic woods onto desolate moorland is like jumping from an ice bath into boiling water. Miles and miles of stubby grass, gnawed down by bored ponies, granting no protection from the snapping of the wind.
I wish I’d dressed warmer.
All that breaks the landscape is a teetering mass of granite that looks like it’s gonna topple over at any moment.
And not a single castle-like anything in sight.
I’m not the only one casting a nervous look up at the sky, at the carrion birds sweeping and dipping beneath the clouds.
The others are just as confused as I am by the empty countryside. We shield our eyes against the sun to squint toward the horizon, searching for a hint of our destination. There is nothing but grass and stone and the distant shapes of the birds sweeping across the sky, watching us like they’re waiting for us to drop down dead.
“They are not birds of prey.”
Kensa’s voice startles me more than I’d like to admit. Xe’s neither broken pace nor looked behind at me as xe speaks.
I trot to catch up. “What are they, then?”
“Magpies.”
“Oh.” My knowledge of magpies is zero except what Neal says about how you’re supposed to greet them respectfully anytime you cross paths. I don’t know if this counts as crossing paths, since there’s basically a mile of air between us, but I salute the dancing flock anyway. Better safe than sorry.
“So, how far is it to Pioden?”
“Not far.”
“Sounds real fake, given there’s literally nothing anywhere.” Irritation bubbles and pops. “Hey, just wait a sec! We’ve a right to know where we’re going.”
“I told you, little knight, Alis’s time is precious. Keep up and stay close to me.”
I plant my feet and stop.
Willow barrels straight into my back.
Elowen glares at me. “Callie,” she growls. “Now is not the time.”
But as far as I’m concerned, this is the only time. “You said we could trust you,” I call out to Kensa, who is still going. “You need to tell us where we’re going. You can’t expect us just to put our faith in you without proof we can trust you. You could be leading us anywhere!”
The dragon finally—finally—stops, and when xe turns back to us, xir eyes are ablaze with a warning I’m doing everything in my power to ignore. “You asked this favor of me, little knight.”
“Yeah, because Teo said you were the best person to help us.”
“I am the only person who can help you.”
“So…what?” My temper is spiking so hard and fast, my eyesight goes fuzzy. “We don’t have any choice but to follow you wherever you choose to take us?”
I know that’s the case. I am painfully, miserably aware that that is the case. And it feels like every other moment of heavy disappointment when you hope a grown-up will do right by you and then they’re just as self-serving as the rest and—
The dragon dips xir head. “Forgive me. You are right to be wary. Of course you are. It was not my intention to make you afraid.”
I fold my arms and glare. Mostly because I have no idea how to respond out loud to this. And I don’t like being wrong, even when it’s for the better.
“Look.” Kensa returns to my side and points in the direction we’ve been heading in. “Do you see the line where the moorland meets the sky?”
“The horizon? Yeah, obviously.”
“Between here and there sits Pioden.”
Irritation pricks at me. “But I can’t see it.”
“Just because you cannot see it does not mean it isn’t there. Pioden is the heart of Dumoor and fiercely protected. Only those with the key may see it. That is why you must stay close. Stray too far from me and you will pass right through it.”
Sounds like a whole lot of nonsense to me, but what do I know?
Elowen being Elowen, she accepts Kensa’s riddles with hesitation, and Willow follows with a resigned shrug. Not like we have much choice other than to let faith lead the way.
Only Edwyn hangs back. He stares off at the spot Kensa pointed to, so statue-still I’m worried he’s forgotten how to breathe. For a moment, I think he’s going to turn tail and run all the way back to lock himself in his room.
“You coming?”
“Yes.” Except he doesn’t move.
Where Willow fidgets when he gets nervous, Edwyn locks together. He’s like that now—hands clasped so tight that the bones strain beneath his white skin.
I take a cautious step toward him. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie.”
He shoots me a look. “I do wish you didn’t know me quite so well.”
I shrug. “Sorry not sorry. So, what’s the matter?”
Edwyn’s gaze follows Willow and his sister on either side of Kensa, and the frown between his eyes is deep and permanent. Finally, he settles on, “This doesn’t feel good, Callie.”
“I mean, we’re walking into the enemy’s lair. Of course it doesn’t feel good.”
“No, I know. And that would be okay if the others were…if they weren’t…I—I know Willow is nervous. And I’m glad. Not that I’m happy he’s nervous, only, knowing Willow—”
“He trusts so easily it’s gonna get him in trouble one of these days?”
“Precisely.” Edwyn sighs. “And Elowen…I’m afraid she’s already made her mind up, and I’m scared that is going to cloud her senses.”
“Elowen is smart,” I say, even though I’ve been having exactly the same worries. “We’re going into this with eyes open. It’s going to be okay.”
Edwyn takes a deep breath. “I hope so.”
Yeah. Me too.
“Callie, Edwyn, come on!” Willow yells, waving both his arms. “You have to see this!”
We sprint to catch up, but we see it long before we even reach them.
I stop beside Elowen—her face a picture of awe—and gape.
The tor is twice as tall as it is wide, deep gray granite as ancient as the sky.
The magic it must take to conceal…
“Is this Pioden?” I ask, but Kensa doesn’t answer. Approaching the foot of the tor, xe bows xir head and closes xir eyes, then touches two fingers to the rough stone. Kensa murmurs something somewhere between a song and a spell and ends in a high whistle I feel all the way in my bones.
Like a duet, the tor starts to moan.
We all flinch and clamp our hands over our ears. The sound of rock shifting and grinding splits my head like a toothache times a million. And it goes on and on until the point I can’t stand it anymore. And then it stops.
When I dare crack my eyes open, there’s a door where plain granite was. Exactly like the escape beneath Helston, except this isn’t just a hole bashed into the stone, but a nice piece of dark wood embellished with bronze. The kind of door you’d expect to find in a palace.
On closer inspection, the runes carved into the wood are birds, and when Kensa touches them, they shake out their feathers and spread their wings, and the door swings outward, presenting us to Pioden like a master of ceremonies.
I gawk. It’s a castle. A real, whole castle inside a lichen-covered rock. It is a perfect replica of Helston’s palace, crafted from a single piece of stone and rendered in every shade of gray. From the curving staircase to the tiled floor, it’s the same. Familiar and different all at once.
I hate it.
“Come,” Kensa urges, but the resemblance isn’t sitting well with any of us.
The stars in Elowen’s eyes have faded. Willow’s jaw is tight. And Edwyn—
“It’s not real,” I tell him quickly as his breathing gets harsher. “It’s not Helston. It’s okay.”
“It feels the same—”
Willow takes his hand and squeezes until Edwyn squeezes back, repeating my words: “It’s not Helston.”
“Of course it’s not Helston,” says Elowen impatiently, like she didn’t freeze at the sight of the entrance hall too. “It’s everything Helston isn’t. Come on.”
She strides after Kensa, chin held high, leaving us to trail along in her wake.
We follow Kensa up the stone staircase and through the stone halls; the only breaks in the granite are the dark wooden doors with their bronze fixtures. Every element that makes up Pioden is ancient, even its inspiration, but it feels brand-new.
Magic hums through every inch.
The only living, breathing souls are us, our footsteps echoing loud as a blacksmith’s hammer, ricocheting from stone wall to stone wall with nothing to soften the sound.
It’s eerie to the point of haunted.
When Teo described Pioden, the operational hub of the Witch Queen’s realm, I had imagined Helston at its busiest, filled with knights and warriors, and grown-ups arguing about strategy over enormous maps. Keeping things separate from folks who don’t want to fight makes sense, but surely Alis’s army isn’t just her and Kensa?
“Where is everyone?”
I don’t know why I expected to get a response out of the tight-lipped dragon.
We go up two hundred and seventy-three stairs, and Kensa stops right on the landing.
Gauzy curtains hang in an archway, floating in the light breeze like tethered ghosts. Sunshine glows through the pale material, and on the other side is the indistinct shape of a person.
“Go through,” says Kensa.
* * *
On the other side of the curtains is a balcony with a full view of the moors. We’re so high up, I’m pretty sure we can see every inch of Dumoor, from The Roost nestled within the forest to the little buildings making up community, and all the tors dotting the landscape like sentinels. I wonder if there are castles hidden in them too.
And right in front of us, all the way to the west, a clear view of Helston. The town, the towers, the castle. The chasm where the bridge once stood.
“Welcome, finally.”
We all back up as a woman comes toward us with her arms outstretched.
She’s short and stocky, golden hair a tumble about her shoulders. She wears the kind of dress I recognize from The Roost—brightly colored and simple in design. She could’ve been there and I would never have picked her out of the crowd.
The Witch Queen. The banished princess.
Alis.
“It’s been so long,” she says to Willow, looking down at him with a fondness and warmth that only comes with familiarity. “You look so much like Ewella.”
She has Willow’s smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I’m so glad you reached out,” says Alis, her voice deeper than I was expecting. “I have wanted to see you from the moment you crossed the bridge, but I knew I had to let you come to me. And I knew that you would.”
Alis stretches out a hand as though to touch his cheek, but Willow steps back, eyeing her warily. Her fingers are short and stubby and bedecked in rings bearing brightly colored jewels that seem to glint with a light of their own.
“You knew we were coming? How?” Willow asks.
“I have eyes everywhere, child. From here to Helston, there is nothing I cannot see. Even through your mother’s wards.”
Willow catches my eye, and his fear matches the twist in my stomach.
She saw and did nothing.
To be seen and unaided is worse than not being seen at all. She watched us run. She watched us being hunted. She watched Jory die.
Alis redirects her attention from Willow to me, her expression just as warm and welcoming, even though I know she can see me bristling with suspicion.
“Callie. Your reputation precedes you, young knight.”
“What reputation?” I growl, keeping well out of arm’s reach.
If Alis is offended, she doesn’t show it. “Your courage,” she says. “Your determination to fight for what is right, no matter the personal cost. It is a rare, commendable thing. And valuable.”
I don’t like the way she says “valuable” like there’s a price on my head. Like I’m something to be bought or bartered.
Her pale blue eyes, the color of snow at dawn, settle on the twins, and Elowen is the only one of us who doesn’t balk at the welcoming touch.
