Sir Callie and the Dragon's Roost, page 6
Jory stands at the side, head turned away like he can’t bear to look at us.
“The ceremony will take place in three days’ time, during which not only will you be anointed squires of Helston but you will pledge loyalty to our newly anointed king along with every knight and squire in the kingdom.”
My whole body tightens. King?
I steal a glance at Edwyn beside me. To anyone else, he would appear utterly impassive, but he and I have spent more time together in the last few months than most people do in years, and the twitch of his eyebrows gives him away; shock matching my own.
So, it’s really happening. Helston will have a twelve-year-old king served by twelve-year-old knights.
And that’s the solid strategy the council came up with after months of nothing?
Sounds on brand for them.
But I’m determined to see the best in it. I know I’m ready, and Willow is the only person in the whole world I am happy to kneel for. To give my life for.
It could be much worse.
Even if the ceremony isn’t special and only for me, that doesn’t mean it isn’t just as important or something to be proud of. Every time disappointment nudges at me, I kick it away with a hiss. Just because Neal won’t be there like I always imagined he would be, doesn’t mean it isn’t something worth celebrating.
Just because the ceremony is only taking place because Helston is desperate for bodies who can hold swords, doesn’t mean I don’t matter.
It’s fine.
This is what I always wanted.
Everything is…it’s fine.
* * *
The Throne Room is a spectacle of royal pageantry, banners bearing the queen’s crest billowing from every eave.
It would be pretty awesome if only I could breathe.
I stand crammed in with the other pages. More than a hundred of us. The little ones, the big ones, and everyone in between. There’s no organized roster; the only priority is getting everyone into the single room, its air thick with sweat and perfumes.
The Throne Room has never felt so small.
Edwyn and I stick close together. No easy feat when the bustle seems determined to split us apart. But it’s hard for him, being back in this room, especially with so many people here. It’s hard for me too; impossible to keep my head from going backward to the last time we were here, on our knees before the court.
I try to suck in a breath and focus on the present, mimicking Edwyn’s posture and his blank expression. But where his eyes are fixed frontward, mine can’t stop moving. My gaze roams across as many faces as I can scan, taking in the nerves, the fear, the excitement in my peers, and the anger in the expressions of the grown-ups.
The tension in Helston has thickened to the point of unbearable since Queen Ewella declared war on Dumoor, like we’re all warhorses pawing the ground and champing at the bit, desperate for the order to charge down the enemy.
I can’t stop my fingers from fidgeting.
This is supposed to be everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve dreamed of.
We are not on trial. We are being honored.
But it sure doesn’t feel like it.
Papa is all the way up at the front, standing at attention beside the two thrones. He’s dressed up fancier than I’ve ever seen him, and looks way more serious than I’m used to. On the left breast of his tunic is the chancellor’s pin. The tower flanked by the two hounds.
The pin worn by Peran not so long ago.
He did it. He gave in.
He doesn’t look like himself.
Neither does Willow.
He’s shrouded in ermine and gold; the crown on his head slips down around his ears, the ridiculous size of it making his eyes appear huge and his body tiny. It doesn’t matter what kind of ceremony Queen Ewella puts together; it doesn’t matter if she makes every single person in the whole world kneel before him.
He looks like a little kid playing dress-up in clothes borrowed from his parents’ closet, about to go stomping off in boots ten times too big.
And then I realize what Willow reminds me of.
Me.
Tied into dresses by my mother and made to perform a role I would never master.
Doing his best to be what everyone wants him to be.
But his best isn’t enough.
It will never be enough.
This is wrong.
This is wrong.
Suddenly I can’t breathe. My tunic clings in all the wrong places, and the collar is buttoned too high and too tight, and I can feel sweat being squeezed out of me.
“Stop fidgeting,” Edwyn murmurs.
I try.
It’s not like I can stop the proceedings. The thought is almost laughable. It’s happening. It’s done. And I’m just one insignificant page in an army of hundreds. A single weapon in an extensive armory.
I am nothing on my own.
There is nothing I can do.
Her Majesty stands and the room falls silent.
Queen Ewella smiles, her rich brown eyes sweeping across each of us. “Welcome,” she says. “And thank you. I know these last few weeks have been difficult for all of us, and I have been impressed by the level at which you have all applied yourselves to your studies. Dedication and determination are everything we look for in young knights, and all of you are more than ready. Helston is lucky to have you. And I am lucky that my son will step into his rule with such a strong force at his back. Look at you all now—I will rest more easily knowing that Helston is in your hands.”
I steal glances at the faces of my peers, wondering if anyone else is not quite 100 percent on that kind of responsibility being placed on our shoulders. But all I see is either bright, eager expressions or somber, businesslike neutrality.
“One by one, you will be called forward to kneel for your king and make your oath to Helston. Captain Jory will then fix the silver crest to your tunic, and you will be, hereafter, a squire of Helston.”
She looks so pleased with herself. Like this is a surefire way to save Willow from the mutterings of the court.
It is going to be a really long day.
There are so many of us, and me and Edwyn are stuck right in the middle. Even on a good day, I can’t stand still that long, and I’m already fidgety beyond control. I wonder how long it will take for Edwyn to snap at me.
I wish Willow was down here with us. I wish Elowen hadn’t stayed back to keep Neal company. I wish we were on the outside of the line so at least I could amuse myself with watching the grown-ups, but I’m too short to see anything except the back of the boy’s head in front of me. He doesn’t even have interesting hair.
“This is ridiculous,” I whisper to Edwyn. “I don’t see why we couldn’t’ve done it in batches instead of making us all stand around like this.”
“So leave.”
I whip all the way around to come face to face with Peter, who’s standing right behind me. Because of course he is. I bet Adan told him to pick that spot specifically, just to plague us.
He looks right down his nose at me. “No one’s making you be here, Calliden. If you don’t like it, leave.”
I open my mouth to tell him to shove it, but Edwyn’s hand locks around my arm and steers me back into place with a hiss. “Do not let him ruin this for you, Callie.”
I take four long, calming breaths. He’s right. I’m not going to waste my dream on the likes of Peter. He is not worth it.
But Peter’s the kind of kid who, once he’s started, just doesn’t stop.
“You know,” he continues under his breath, “it would probably save you a good deal of humiliation if you gave up now. I heard a rumor that they’re not even going to give you your pin when you get up there.”
“Squeeze my arm and don’t give him the satisfaction,” Edwyn tells me right when my heart starts hammering dangerously. “He’s lying to get a reaction.”
I focus on breathing slowly. In, two, three…Out, two, three…
It is going to be a long day.
One by one by one each page is called by name, and I zone out long before they even reach the end of the first row.
At the very least, we’re gonna bulk up Helston’s numbers.
I wonder how many of us will still be here this time next year. Next month. Next week.
I’m not afraid.
This is what I’ve always wanted. I can’t be afraid of my own dreams.
“You know…” Peter’s voice is as insidious and annoying as a mosquito in my ear. The urge to slap him—splat!—just like a bug with a belly full of blood is nearly too strong to resist. “Even if you do make it long enough to get out into the field, everyone’s got bets on how long you’ll last. You too, Edwyn. There’s a wager going round the barracks. And I’m going to win. Want to know how?”
Neither Edwyn nor I give Peter the satisfaction of a response, but unfortunately that doesn’t seem to matter.
He leans so close I can feel his spit in my ear and whispers, “Because I’m going to take you out myself.”
I burst out laughing before I can control myself. I don’t even care when heads turn to glare at me.
“You can’t even best me on the training field,” I sneer. “I would love to see you try to ‘take me out.’ Look, I’m sorry you feel so threatened by my existence. There’s enough of you who feel that way to start a support group, so maybe go and work through it and stop bothering me.”
Peter’s face goes red with anger. “You should be thanking me. I’m doing you a favor and warning you. You have no idea what Captain Adan has planned for you. For both of you.”
Edwyn’s fingers spasm on my arm, pinching so hard I nearly yell.
“Captain Adan can suck it,” I grit out through the pain. “And so can you. You’re both pathetic and cowardly, and quite frankly it’s embarrassing. If you don’t leave us alone, I’ll deal with you and Adan just like I dealt with Peran, and I’ll win. How does that sound?”
“Everyone knows you cheated,” Peter hisses back. “You’ve got the witch on your side and she cursed him. That’s the only way you won.”
I roll my eyes so hard I see the back of my skull. “Whatever makes you feel better.”
“You’re only getting away with it because you cursed Her Majesty too,” Peter prattles on. “But she can’t protect you forever. Your spells will be broken and you’ll be exposed for what you really are.”
“Yeah, sure, okay.”
“And then you’ll be locked in the dark with your dragon friend for the rest of your cursed lives. You and your girlfriend and the witch’s spy. And you.” He fixes his wild, triumphant eyes on Edwyn. “Captain Adan told me what you are,” he says. “Your father kept you a secret, but he’s not here to protect you anymore.”
Only I notice the lump in Edwyn’s throat as he swallows around his words: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar.” Peter grins. “You lie because you know it’s wrong. It’s disgusting. And you’re ashamed. You should be.”
I’m sharply aware of how much attention we’re getting from the pages around us as Peter cares less and less about keeping his voice down. All eyes within a ten-kid radius are fixed curiously on us—our argument a million times more interesting than the ceremony.
I’m also aware that Edwyn is starting to tremble.
“Save it,” I snap at Peter. “You want to fight this out, fine. But save it for later when I can actually punch you in the face.”
But Peter ignores me, every ounce of his gleeful satisfaction focused on Edwyn as he raises his voice: “I would be ashamed too if I was magical.”
“What?”
“Magical?”
“Who’s magical?”
“Edwyn.”
“Edwyn’s magical?”
“Edwyn’s magical.”
It’s like a spark caught by dry leaves, bursting into an instant, unstoppable flame that spreads and grows and engulfs everything.
Magical magical magical…
And now I understand why Edwyn didn’t want to admit it yet.
Tolerance is not the same as acceptance.
It doesn’t matter that the rules say it’s okay. He’s allowed to be who he is.
It doesn’t matter how many speeches the queen makes or how hard she forces Helston to accept Willow.
Progress is slow and nothing has changed.
And a magical boy is still an abomination in the eyes of Helston.
Beneath their scorn, Edwyn cowers.
I need to get him out of here. The ceremony doesn’t matter. We’ll beg another chance later. But right now—
“No, you’re not running away from this.”
The tight ranks of pages have already begun to break in the rising commotion, the proceedings at the front forgotten.
Jory shouts for order, Papa starts moving toward us, and Peter grabs Edwyn.
Lightning cracks across the ceiling and everyone around us ducks.
“Don’t touch him!” Elowen screams.
Pages scatter as she strides toward us, magic crackling on her fingers, her whole body radiating rage. She goes straight up to Peter, nose to nose, less than an inch between them. “Touch my brother again, and I will kill you.”
She means it. Every syllable.
Peter falters, but I don’t have time to enjoy the look on his face before Adan roars, “Arrest the girl!” and soldiers charge to grab Elowen. Four, five, six grown men against one girl.
“Stop!” I yell, trying to shove my way between them and El. “Wait! Papa!” Where is he? I can’t see him! He’s got to do something!
One of the soldiers elbows me back. “Stand down, kid.”
I do not.
“Let go of her!” I shout right up into the soldier’s face. “She didn’t do anything wrong! If you’re gonna arrest anyone, arrest him!” I jab a finger at Peter, who’s not looking as thrilled as I expected him to be.
But Elowen doesn’t need me.
The fire flashes blue and bright. Elowen stands her ground, daring them to take another step, one hand out to keep Edwyn back.
“Leave us alone,” she commands, the blue light flickering on her face. “Don’t take another step.”
Even I’m afraid of her. She could bring the whole ceiling down if she wanted to.
And by the looks of things, everyone else knows it.
“Dumoor has infected her.”
“A witch’s weapon.”
“A spy.”
“Dragon.”
“Move!” I hear Papa snarl. “Get out of my way.”
He wrestles through and grabs me. “Go home,” he orders. “Now.”
“But—”
“Not asking, Callie, telling.” He pushes me to emphasize the point. None too gently either. “Let them through,” he barks at the crowd, which parts just enough for me to squeeze past, my heart pounding so hard I might puke.
“Ewella,” Papa calls to the queen. “Tell these men to stand down!”
But his voice is only one against a hundred, all whispering the wild theories like they’re true. And the louder they get, the more certain they become.
“They’ll poison our children just like the witch poisoned them!”
“That kind of magic, it’s catching.”
“Dangerous.”
“Like Princess Alis.”
“Just like Alis.”
“Just like Peran warned.”
“Should’ve listened.”
“Her Majesty should’ve listened and taken action.”
“She’s protecting them when she should be protecting us!”
“She’s one of them.”
“The boy too.”
“The prince.”
“Dumoor has infiltrated Helston.”
I want to scream at them not to be so ridiculous.
Queen Ewella raises her voice so loud there’s no way she’s not using magic. “Captain Adan, take them down to the chambers and secure them.”
Papa’s voice rises in horror. “Ewella—”
“The welfare of Helston is my first priority. Anyone who threatens our peace must be detained.”
“No,” Edwyn pleads as hands close around him. “Please, I—I’m sorry…we didn’t mean—”
“Leave him alone!” Elowen screams. “Sir Nick, help! Don’t let them—”
“Move, witch!”
“El, do as they say,” Papa tells her, his strong voice wavering. “It’s going to be okay, love. I’m going to fix this. I promise. Just…don’t do anything rash.”
Edwyn’s pleas turn to a hoarse whimper. I don’t hear Elowen again.
“Callie—”
I startle when Willow grabs my hand and drags me into a dark corner. He’s divested of his robes and crown, everything that makes him stand out. He looks a little more like himself.
“I know where they’re taking them,” he whispers. “Come on.”
“They’ll miss you.”
Willow shakes his head. “I told Mother I wanted to leave. She thinks I’m returning to our quarters. Besides”—he casts a bitter glance at the court—“they’re too distracted to notice us.”
He’s right. All the grown-ups are shoving into the center of the room, grabbing for their kids, yelling at Papa, at the queen, everyone fighting to be heard and no one listening to anyone.
We will not be missed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
No one pays us any heed. We don’t even need to use the secret passages.
Willow grips my hand tight. His fingers are cold, his hand clammy, and I can feel the wild flutter of his pulse in his wrist.
He leads me quickly through the palace grounds like he’s walking a well-trodden path. When we step out of the grounds, I finally ask, “Where are we going?”
