Sir Callie and the Dragon's Roost, page 23
“You’d better make this worth my while, Peran. That blood is not going to wash off my hands quickly.”
Since when has Adan cared about blood? He wipes it from his hands on his trousers like it was worth less than water. Blood stopped being precious a long time ago.
“There isn’t a soul in Helston who doesn’t love Jowan.”
Edwyn’s heart stops beating.
Oh.
Jowan.
Prince Jowan’s blood.
They’re talking about…
About hurting…
“I told you I would make you captain, didn’t I?” Father snaps. “And once Helston unravels, you will be at my side as I piece it back together. You want this as much as I do. Don’t act as though you’re doing me a favor. The way Helston is going…it is intolerable. Allowing that peculiarity to go unchecked as though he’s normal—”
Peculiarity.
That’s the word Father uses for Willow in the privacy of their apartment.
“Their Majesties are beyond advice. It is time to act. Do this one thing, Adan, and I will take care of the rest.”
There’s a long pause, silence thick, and all Edwyn can hear is the loud thud of his own heart beating to the tune of Jowan. They’re going to hurt Jowan.
Then, “It will be done.”
“Good.”
Good? Does that mean they’re leaving? It sounds like they’re walking away. It sounds like he got away with it and Edwyn knows he should be grateful, and most of him is, except—
They’re going to hurt Jowan.
It buzzes in his head and snatches his breath and he can’t breathe and there’s too much hay in the air and—
Edwyn sneezes.
It comes too fast to smother with a sleeve, with barely a warning tickle, and the only way out is the stall’s gate and that isn’t an option when it’s already filled with a familiar shadow grabbing for him.
“You!”
The prince’s horse whickers in alarm. She isn’t big enough or fierce enough to protect him.
A hand snags his collar and wrenches him out.
Even if he wanted to, even if he thought he stood half a hope, there is no time or space to fight. The thought doesn’t even occur. If he fought, they would kill him. Right here in the stables. Better to be small and sorry and do what they say.
He is grateful for the straw when Adan throws him down in the empty stall. It is warm and damp and long in need of changing, but it’s better than stone. Kneeling on stone is hell.
He kneels now, head bowed, waiting for judgment, the way Father likes.
Don’t look up. Don’t speak. Don’t move.
Don’t exist.
He can do that. He’s good at that. Well practiced.
Even when Adan moves, a sudden, violent flash, Edwyn doesn’t stir. He takes the blow like he’s been taught. Like a knight. Like a man. Biting his lip against the pain.
Sometimes it works.
Sometimes Adan takes it as a personal challenge.
“You were listening! What did you hear? Speak!”
It takes too long to make his tongue work. This time he cries out. He sees Adan smirk.
“Nothing.” His voice is barely a breath. It feels like smoke in his throat. “I—I swear, I didn’t—”
“Liar!”
Edwyn’s courage gives out and he cowers.
“Calm yourself, Sergeant.” Father’s command is low and soft, but it is enough to stay Adan’s hand. “The boy still has duties to attend to for His Highness. It will not do to send him back…imperfect.”
Relief is dizzying. Confusing. A blessing. A trick.
Straw crunches.
“He knows,” Adan snarls. “There’s no way he didn’t hear anything. You said it yourself, Peran—no one can know. The boy is a liability. Let me—”
“Edwyn knows what is good for him,” says Father. “And he knows the value in keeping his mouth shut. Besides, who would he tell? Who would believe him? I would be more concerned with the beasts talking out of turn.”
Father’s shiny shoes replace Adan’s scuffed boots in Edwyn’s limited vision.
Fingers lock in his hair and shove his head back.
Father smiles down at him. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“And who would you tell?”
“N-no one.”
“And if you’re lying”—the hand on his scalp tightens—“who would ever believe you?”
“No one,” Edwyn whispers.
“Quite right.”
He is released, dropped like a dirty rag, like Father can’t stand to touch him a moment longer than he has to.
“You see?” Father tells Adan. “The boy is inconsequential. Whatever else, he knows his place. Up.”
Edwyn stumbles to his feet, hardly daring to believe his luck. Father’s defending him. Father’s protecting him. Adan is furious and Edwyn knows he’ll catch it later, but right now that doesn’t matter. Right now, he is safe.
“Return to your duties before you are missed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Father turns on his heel and walks away, and Edwyn almost laughs with heady relief.
A hand around his throat chokes off any thought of laughter.
Adan squeezes. “Open your mouth and I will cut out your tongue myself.”
There is nothing inside Edwyn that doubts that Adan is anything less than serious.
He is lucky to have survived this far and too grateful to waste the chance he has been given. Edwyn does what he does best. He shuts his mouth and keeps it closed, locking away his secrets so far in the darkness it’s like they were never there at all; a closet crammed to bursting.
And he forgets.
He survives.
And when Prince Jowan’s body returns to Helston just a few hours later, Edwyn is as shocked as anyone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The pool spits us out and leaves us dazed and breathless.
The image is gone, soon as the moment ended, but I can’t stop staring down at the water, wishing I hadn’t heard what I heard. Wishing I didn’t know what I know.
Wishing, more than anything else in the world, that what had happened wasn’t real.
Except it was.
It is.
And Edwyn is the proof of it.
“It’s my fault.”
The statement is a hoarse confession.
“Edwyn, no—”
“Yes. It is. I should’ve told. I should’ve been braver. I was only thinking of myself. I wasn’t thinking at all. I could’ve saved him.”
“They would’ve killed you.” From all I witnessed, there isn’t a doubt in my heart that it’s true.
“So?” He raises his face and there is nothing in his expression but bleak acceptance. “What kind of exchange is that? I am nothing.”
“That isn’t true!”
“Yes it is!” He slaps the stone floor so hard it’s got to hurt, but he doesn’t wince. I don’t think he even feels it. “Everything they said, it’s true. And I locked it away because I didn’t want to know. I wanted to keep pretending. I wanted to keep believing that I stood a chance. But I was lying! And Prince Jowan died because of it! We’re here because of it! Willow lost his home and his crown because of me! And you—”
“Stop.”
If I asked, he would refuse. On a different day, I would respect that.
Today I don’t.
I wrap my arms around Edwyn’s body and squeeze as hard as I can.
“It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry they made you believe that it was. You didn’t deserve what they did to you. Any of it. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t your fault.”
Edwyn struggles and growls like a feral cat. “Stop lying to me! Let me go!”
I hang on tighter. It’s more a fight than a hug, but it’s a fight I’m not going to lose.
“Not lying. The only people who lied to you were the ones telling you that you were worthless just because you have magic. Who told you that you needed fixing. Who made you believe you didn’t deserve any scrap of kindness. Your dad and your mum lied to you, Edwyn. Adan lied to you. Not me. Not El, and not Willow.”
At Willow’s name, Edwyn goes limp. “I can’t face him,” he whimpers. “He can’t know.”
“Willow loves you. We all do. And we’re not going to let you carry this by yourself.” Even with four, I’m scared we’re not strong enough to bear this load, that it’s still going to crush us to dust. But at least we’ll be crushed together. “And I swear, on my honor, on Satin, on everything, they will pay for what they did. I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but I know that justice will be done.” Even if I have to do it on my own.
“Yes,” says a voice from the landing. “Justice will be done.”
Edwyn jerks away from me and I move fast, planting myself between him and the intruder.
Alis watches us from the top of the staircase, the same gentle smile resting on her face.
My frantic pulse doesn’t let up. “You said we could come anytime.”
“I know. I meant it.” She takes a slow step closer. “Do not fear, children. You are not in trouble.”
Then why does it feel like we are?
“You were very brave to come here,” she tells Edwyn. “I know how hard it must be to unlock that door, especially when the lock only goes one way.”
I keep myself as a wall between them. “What d’you mean?”
“When a closet is crammed as full as that, there is no closing it again once it has been opened.” She tries to get around me. “I’m sorry, Edwyn; you are in for a rough journey.”
I don’t move. Even when she nearly knocks into me. “He’ll be fine,” I say. “He’s got us.”
“And you are confident in your ability to give your friend the kind of healing he needs, are you?”
The smile stays in place even as the tone shifts a fraction.
“He’ll be fine,” I repeat through gritted teeth. “Right now we need to worry about stopping the war. Dumoor didn’t kill Jowan, and neither did Helston. It was all Peran and Adan. We heard them say—”
“I heard it too,” says Alis. “I heard everything.”
“Then you know this war is needless! We need to tell Her Majesty! You need to make contact. And peace. You are on the same side! We have the proof now! Edwyn’s testimony, the arrow…” I look desperately at the banished princess. “Please, this can all end. And if you and Queen Ewella work together to bring Peran and Adan to justice—”
She holds up a hand and I close my mouth.
I’m not entirely sure if it was of my own volition.
“You have done well,” says Alis. “Both of you. It is a hard thing, to face the shadows in the back of your mind, and your sacrifice will not go to waste. You have my word. But these things take time, and I must now beg for your patience as I decide the best way to proceed.”
Patience.
I hold my breath for the count of one…two…three, then, “With all due respect, there’s no time for patience. Helston’s gonna ride out as soon as they can. Maybe we don’t know when that’s gonna be, but it’s not worth risking. They’re not gonna listen once they’re on the other side of the bridge. You need to do it now!”
“It will be done in good time, Callie,” says Alis firmly. “I have been in this role for many a year. Have faith. For now I must ask that you keep your new knowledge to yourself until plans can be made. I am not asking you to keep secrets,” she adds when I balk. “I am asking you to be considerate. My primary goal is to protect my people, and I will not have them suffer unnecessary stress. You understand, don’t you?”
I nod slowly.
“Good.” She rests a warm hand on my shoulder. “You are a brave knight, Sir Callie. I thank you for your service. Go now, sleep. We will talk soon.” She touches the charms on her bracelet, and one of them glows red. “I will have Kensa help you home.”
“We don’t need help,” I say automatically. “We know the way back. Thanks, though,” I add, just in case she thinks I’m being as rude as I feel. “I think it’d be better if we stick together. Elowen will know what to do. We’ll be fine. Thanks.”
It already feels like we’ve been in here too long. I wouldn’t be surprised if El and Willow were wondering where we’ve got to. It’s gonna be hard to enough to explain everything to them without having to calm down a panic too.
“You came to me for help,” says Alis. “So let me help you.”
I step away from her. Or try to. The hand on my shoulder holds on.
“You can help by letting us go.”
“No one is keeping you here against your will, Callie.”
But that doesn’t feel true.
“Are you ready to go?”
I never thought I would be glad to hear Kensa’s voice.
The dragon pauses on the top stair behind Alis, yellow eyes assessing the scene. I don’t know xem well enough to read xir expressions well, but I swear a flicker of concern crosses xir face.
Alis is still for a moment longer, her own gaze locked on Edwyn, but then it breaks and she releases my shoulder, all softness and smiles. “Very well,” she says. “I understand. At the very least, let me give you this.” She reaches deep into a pocket hidden in her skirts and retrieves a small green glass bottle, which she presses into my palm like it’s something precious. “Give him three drops in a warm drink every two hours for the next day, and then come back and see me.”
I give the vial a swirl, and it looks like the night sky from Eyrewood—flecked with sparkling, unreachable galaxies. “What is it?”
“It calms the mind,” says Alis. “And helps it heal so the afflicted can better deal with whatever has damaged it. Don’t worry—there are no ill side effects.”
“Thanks,” I tell Alis, meaning it. “And…thanks for listening and not just being mad.”
“You and I want the same thing, little knight,” Alis replies. “Justice for the wrongs committed against our loved ones. I understand.” She looks up to address Kensa: “Take the children to The Roost, then return here. We must start reassessing our plans immediately.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It is dark and cold when Kensa leads us out of Pioden. How long were we in there?
After a lungful of fresh air, everything that happened inside Alis’s castle feels like a weird dream that slips a little further out of reach the more I try to make sense of it.
The tiny vial digs into my clenched fist.
I wonder if anyone would notice if I took a drop of it myself—
“Don’t,” Kensa growls, and I startle.
“Get out of my head.”
“You have already proven yourself foolish. I am looking out for you.”
I stop and glare. “Foolish how?”
The dragon rounds on me with bared teeth, eyes flashing in the darkness. “I told you to be careful and cautious.”
“We didn’t have time to ask permission. And it doesn’t matter. We didn’t get in trouble. It’s fine. We’re fine.”
Kensa stares at me, xir anger shifting into something different, and then xe shepherds us on with a terse command: “Come. Quickly.”
If it was me on my own, I’d argue and demand a conversation right here and now. But Edwyn is shivering fiercely, and if my head is messed up, his has got to be in pieces.
Everything else can wait.
* * *
But Kensa doesn’t take us to The Roost. Instead of going right toward the inn, we go left toward the deepest part of the forest.
Panic flickers in my throat. “Where’re you taking us? She told you to take us to The Roost.”
But the dragon doesn’t reply.
I wish we told Elowen where we were going. And Willow. Edwyn and I fended off Kensa before, but not alone. Not even nearly—
“I am not going to hurt you,” Kensa says, xir voice a low rolling growl. “I told you I owe you a debt, and I take my vows seriously.”
“Then tell us—”
“No. I cannot. It isn’t safe.”
“What d’you mean?”
But Kensa just puts one long-clawed finger to xir lips and lights a flame in xir other hand. The fire is rich and warm, effortlessly illuminating the trees.
I gasp.
Not just trees, but a whole village built into the branches. Walkways and ladders, hoists and pulleys. Each tree holds a dwelling.
Kensa whistles a single long note, high and low in the same breath, and just a few seconds later one of the doors opens and a figure leans over the wooden rail.
Teo stares down at us and grins, waving enthusiastically.
I raise my own hand in confused greeting as Teo practically runs down the steep stairs. But xir smile dips into a frown when xe sees us up close.
“Are you okay? What happened? Where’re the others?”
“Go to The Roost and fetch them,” says Kensa. “Don’t linger. Be back here quickly.”
Teo’s ears twitch with a question that never reaches xir lips. Then xe gives one nod and takes off, sprinting silently toward The Roost.
Kensa tugs on a rope hanging down the tree, lowering a platform to the ground. “It’s safe,” xe says, urging us onto the boards.
I’m too tired to argue. I’d rather take my chances and trust xem than attempt the stairs. My legs would not make it. Luckily the journey up into the trees is short and smooth, and Kensa is waiting for us at the top.
I help Edwyn onto the balcony. He moves automatically, and I’m not sure he’s even aware of what’s going on. He doesn’t seem afraid or happy or anything. He’s just…existing.
