Splinter & Ash, page 13
Her eyes drilled into Splinter, who pushed back her hood. Fenna retreated to the door, and Lucen stayed close to him, his face cloaked in shadows. He folded his hands behind his back.
Hazel scrambled to her feet. “Splinter?”
Mist furrowed her brow. She tried to stare through Lucen’s cloak. “Why are you . . . what are you doing here?”
Splinter walked to Mist, her feet squishing the soft carpet. “We need help.”
Mist took a step back when Splinter approached. Her face twisted.
“We’re looking for Ash. She . . .” Splinter’s voice trailed off. She felt like an unwanted guest. She twisted the ring around her finger.
“She got kidnapped. We heard,” Hazel piped up behind her.
“She got kidnapped, and within hours, the royal guard burst into our estate suggesting our parents have something to do with it,” Mist said, her voice a challenge. “Why is that?”
“I’m sorry about your parents.” Splinter couldn’t meet her gaze. “Ash was supposed to visit you today. I hoped you might have heard . . . something.”
Hazel laughed humorlessly. “I can’t believe that was supposed to be today.”
“She never made it here. Why would we know anything?” Mist demanded. When she’d argued that Splinter should be allowed to come inside, when she’d convinced Fenna to teach Splinter more swordcraft, Mist had been brave and immovable. Scared, she was even more intimidating. “Tell me!”
Splinter didn’t have an answer. From the corner of her eye, she could see Hazel and Fenna arguing silently.
Lucen stepped forward. He found a spot near the fireplace, and all eyes were drawn to him. He folded his hood back. His face was expressionless.
“My mother thinks your parents know more because your father has been corresponding with Ferisian nobles,” he said coldly. “No loyal Calinoran noble would. And someone had to help the Ferisians into the palace.”
Hazel gasped.
The words hung like swords above them all, ready to drop down and draw blood.
Mist’s eyes flashed like embers as she spun and stalked to Lucen. “Your royal highness.” She made the title sound more biting than Splinter ever had. “My father fought in the mountains to defend Calinor. He survived horrors that we could never imagine. And tonight he and Mama were arrested like traitors, for the crime of writing letters? Do you even know what’s in them?”
Splinter opened her mouth to speak, but Lucen stepped closer to Mist, who stared up at him with her hands planted at her sides. “Do you?”
Mist didn’t flinch. “Papa is trying to end the war. He’s finding like-minded Ferisian nobles and scholars. He’s gathering information about traitors at court. He’s trying to save Calinor.”
Splinter frowned. Could that be true? Could Lord Lambelin’s spies have misjudged Lord Maronne so completely? Could they have confused the Maronnes with another noble family? The idea left a pit in Splinter’s stomach.
Lucen frowned too. “If that’s the case, your family has nothing to fear from the crown’s investigation. But if your father has Ferisian contacts, the best thing you could do is share them. Because even if I don’t know the horrors of war, I do know what will happen if my sister is brought to the empire. The war will escalate, and far more people will get killed, and you’ll be just as responsible.”
Mist clenched her jaw. Her fingers twisted the edge of her woolen gown. “Ash is our friend. If you believe she’s here, you’re welcome to search the mansion. The royal guard didn’t find anything, but who knows, maybe you will. You can comb through the rest of the estate. Every grain silo and every hayloft. You can go through my father’s office, or what’s left of it. The royal guard ransacked it and took all his correspondence.”
“I don’t believe she’s here,” Splinter said. Her head spun. She wanted to get closer, but Hazel positioned herself between Splinter and her sister, and Splinter knew they’d broken something by coming here. “I’m sorry. I just . . . hoped you could help us find her.”
“Our father would do anything for Calinor,” Hazel said. “We are loyal to the crown. And it doesn’t matter because you don’t trust us.”
Mist turned her back to Lucen and rounded on Splinter. “Tell me one thing. Was Ash ever our friend? Or was she just here to spy on us?”
Splinter flushed under the girl’s scrutiny. “She was also your friend.”
Mist scrunched her face in disgust.
Fenna was signing again. “Fenna says that you were trespassing and that it’s up to me to decide what to do with you.” She drew herself up to the full height of her nearly twelve years. “If we send you back to the palace, we might gain some favor with the queen for keeping you safe. But unlike some people, we don’t betray our friends.”
“Thank you,” Splinter whispered.
“If you need a place to start, find Lord Idian. He knows what Papa was researching, and he is fond of Ash. Ask him about the Larks.”
“We appreciate that, more than you can—”
“It’s best if you leave now.”
“Mist . . .”
“Leave.” Mist walked over to Hazel and pulled her close. “And don’t ever come back.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ash
The wagon rumbled. Ash lay on a threadbare blanket, with a burlap sack filled with straw as a makeshift pillow. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her head ached. She blinked against the light filtering in through the gaps between the wooden panels on the sides of the wagon and overhead. She tried to sit up and get her bearings, but the constant rocking motion made it hard to stay balanced. She rolled to her side. Her shoulders protested, and she could feel the rope around her wrists slip past the braces she wore. One of her binds cut deep into her forearm.
She rolled until she hit the side of the wagon. Rough wood scraped against her legs and arms, and the shift of her dress knotted around her knees. Ash used her legs to steady herself, until she was half sitting, half leaning in the corner.
Flashes of memory came back to her. The attack on the battlements. One of the palace guards smirking at her. Being carried down a flight of stairs, with musty fabric covering her face and head. Emptiness.
She tried to breathe through the pain that cascaded through her bound arms and pounded in her head. She wasn’t in the palace, that much was sure. She probably wasn’t anywhere near the palace. She didn’t know how much time had passed, exactly.
She was alone.
And she had to figure out what to do.
She tried to remember if she carried anything of aid. Her purse with coins and her star amulet had been taken away from her. Splinter had told her on more than one occasion that she should carry a dagger in a boot, just so she would have means to protect herself. Or get a cane with a sword hidden inside, like in the stories.
Her cane—
Ash sighed with relief when she spotted it on the far side of the wagon. Having her cane would make it easier to escape, and she had to escape.
The wagon didn’t offer anything else that she might consider useful. The rope that hung from one of the hooks was so frayed, Ash expected it would crumble if she could find a way to untie it. The pillow wasn’t comfortable and too small to do anything much. The blanket had potential, if she could get her hands free and sneak close enough to one of her captors to toss it over them.
Voices from outside the wagon drifted in. Muffled, like Ash was eavesdropping from behind a thick door.
“. . . get there on time . . . stuck with her.”
“. . . worth a lot of gold . . . not going anywhere.”
The first voice belonged to the guard in the palace. The one who was responsible for taking her. The second voice sounded gruffer. Older. Odd.
It took Ash a moment to pinpoint why the voice sounded strange. She’d expected lilting Ferisian accents. But the man sounded Calinoran, guttural and dry. They had to be traitors, criminals working for the Ferisian Empire.
The girl who’d been on the battlements spoke up, her voice ringing loudly. “It’s not about gold, it’s about family!”
“Merewen.” The older man’s voice snapped like a whip. “Make yourself useful instead of arguing.”
“Uncle . . . ,” Merewen protested.
“Now. We’ll make camp here for breakfast. Check on the girl. See if she’s awake yet.”
At those words, Ash pushed herself deeper into the corner, and wished desperately for a weapon. The wagon groaned as it slowed down, the wheels rocking back and forth, and finally it stopped.
Ash pulled at her bonds. She tried to get to her feet. But instead she toppled forward, landing hard on her shoulder. Her arm slipped from its socket, and Ash cried out as tendrils of pain crawled down her arm and back. She rolled onto her side and hoped the pressure would keep her shoulder in place.
The door to the wagon burst open. Merewen rushed toward Ash, her hair bouncing around her head. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Ash flinched. “Don’t touch me! What do you want from me?”
She angled herself away from the girl, to keep her hurt side protected.
“Careful.” Merewen propped her up against the side of the wagon. “I’m sorry this is a rough journey, but you must understand it’s the only way to get you out of the city,” she said, like it was the most reasonable thing, to want to take Ash out of Haven.
Once upon a time, there had been days when Ash wanted to be as far away from Haven as possible. But not right now. Not like this.
“Take me home immediately!” she demanded.
Merewen pushed a stray strand of hair out of Ash’s face. Her fingers were ink stained. “You’ll be where you belong soon enough,” she said soothingly.
“What does that mean?” Ash demanded. “Are you taking me to the empire?”
Merewen shook her head. “If you promise not to try anything foolish, I will untie these bonds and you can come out to share breakfast with us. Uncle Crispin says to remind you that he and Aylin are armed, as well as stronger and faster than you. They won’t let you get away, but they will let you eat.”
Ash wasn’t planning to do anything foolish. In all the books she had read about strategy and tactics, and all her studies with Aunt Jonet, she learned that to make a strong plan she needed as much information as possible. About her surroundings and the people who had kidnapped her. About their intentions. She needed to find their weak spots.
She was planning to do something smart.
“I promise.”
“Good!” Merewen clapped her hands. She fiddled with the ropes until the knots came undone and slid away from Ash’s wrists. Ash swallowed a cry when blood flooded back into her hands, stinging like nettles.
She rocked her arms back and forth, letting the blood flow. Clenching her jaw, she pushed her arm back into the right position. It snapped into place with a sickening crunch, and Ash felt faint.
“You’re in pain.” Merewen frowned. She dug in her pocket and considered the star amulet she must have taken from Ash’s purse. “Will this help?”
Ash hesitated. She’d only packed one, just in case. If Merewen used it now, even to help her, it would be spent. Ash wouldn’t have a chance to try to steal it back later. But her shoulder ached so fiercely. She needed to be able to think. “Please. Do you know how it works?”
“I’ve never even seen one up close. Do you just tie it near your injury?” Merewen rubbed her thumb over the small gold star braided into a leather band.
Ash held out her arm. “Yes. Smiths at the star temples cast the amulets. According to one of the royal physicians, their secret is in the metal they use, and in the making. They temporarily dull the pain.”
Merewen looked skeptical as she tied the amulet’s thin band around Ash’s arm.
Almost instantly the pain eased. Ash flexed her hand. The amulet would work for a few hours, giving her a reprieve. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Merewen asked.
“You had no reason to help me, but you did.” Ash forced herself to put on a smile. “Do you suppose I might walk around a bit?” It was a good way to investigate her surroundings, and she wanted to be able to stretch her legs and relieve herself.
Merewen helped her to her feet and, without hesitating, grabbed Ash’s cane and handed it to her. “I will stick by you. I’m sure Uncle Crispin won’t mind.”
She guided Ash out of the wagon and into a makeshift camp. The fake guard—Aylin—was busy building a small campfire, despite the bright sunlight. He carried several knives and daggers on his belt. Seeing him out of his guard uniform, Ash realized how young he was. A few years older than Lucen, at most. She raised her chin. “Guardsman.”
He turned away from her.
“I trust Merewen has explained the rules to you, girl.” The gruff voice belonged to a wall of a man, with a mess of thick brown hair and a battle-axe taller than Ash by his side. Crispin’s eyes were pale blue and full of disdain. “You’re worth the gold but not the trouble.”
Ash pulled herself up high. She wasn’t the type of princess who needed everyone to call her “highness,” but here, she wanted to be untouchable. “It’s Princess Adelisa.”
Crispin spat on the ground. “Whatever you say, girl.”
Ash didn’t cower.
Crispin went back to digging something out of his saddlebags, and Merewen tugged at Ash’s arm. “Come. This may not be up to palace standards, but we’ll be comfortable here.”
She led Ash away from Crispin and Aylin, around the small clearing where they’d stopped the wagon. Sunlight dappled the trees around them, and Ash didn’t have a clue where they were. Judging by the lack of noise, they were far from any road or town. It was the four of them and three horses, and if Ash wanted to get out of here, she needed a plan.
Belatedly, she realized Merewen was still talking.
“—must be nice to have a whole palace at your fingertips, but we lived in Haven for a few months and I miss the crickets at dawn and the stars at night. Everything is so loud.” Merewen glanced sideways at Ash. “Though I did love the spiced chestnut cakes we bought at the market. I can’t get those at home.”
Ash bit her lip. “Where is home for you?” She wondered how Merewen had gotten caught up in her kidnapping. Was it just family ties? Why would anyone do this, steal another person?
Merewen kicked at a broken twig. “I don’t think I’m supposed to share.”
“You don’t have to tell me the name of the town,” Ash said, thinking hard. “Tell me about your favorite food that you can’t get in Haven.”
Back in the camp, Aylin managed a small fire, and he’d retrieved provisions to prepare a meal. He used one of his knives to chop up herbs. The smell of wild garlic and thyme filled the air, and hunger gnawed at Ash’s stomach.
Merewen closed her eyes and savored the scent too. “Aunt Enda makes the best seaberry jams,” she admitted.
Ash stored that bit of information away. “My aunt had a few seaberry bushes on her estate, but they never grew well. And no one ever made jam. They dried the berries and used them for pies.”
“Aunt Enda says she likes her berries to still have the taste of the sea. They grow best near the coast.”
Merewen guided her around the wagon, where the trees and greenery grew thicker. The winter had chased away most of the leaves, but the trees stood like an impenetrable wall of gray and brown tree trunks. Green sprouts and leaf buds heralded the arrival of spring.
Ash could hide here, and she could all too easily get lost.
“I’d love to be able to bake,” she said, to keep the conversation going. “Aunt Jonet’s cook taught me to make bread, but I’m not great at kneading or shaping the dough.”
“I could help,” Merewen offered. “Aunt Enda taught me. Once we’ve settled somewhere, I could teach you all the tricks I know.”
Again she spoke like getting Ash out of Haven was meant to be a boon to Ash. It scared Ash more than talk of gold. She’d meant to keep Merewen talking, but fear and anger rushed over her like waves crashing down on the coast. “Why? You’re not my friend. What will happen to me?”
Merewen shook her head insistently. “I am. I’ll take care of you. You don’t understand it yet, but you will.”
Before Ash could ask what that meant, Crispin called out to them. “Merewen, stop dawdling! Bring the girl back here, and go gather water!”
Merewen nudged Ash along. “He gets grumpy when he’s hungry. Come, sit by the fire. Don’t worry about Uncle Crispin. He’s all bark and no bite.”
Ash nodded her understanding, and she let herself be guided back. She didn’t know what to say, so it was best to not say anything at all. Instead, she could listen. Try to figure out what Crispin’s plans were.
Try to befriend Merewen and gain her trust.
She’d managed that with Mist and Hazel.
The idea left her feeling nauseated.
When Merewen paused to unhook a bucket from under the driver’s seat, Ash took advantage of her distraction to run her hand over a piece of rope that hung from the wagon. After she’d managed to tug it loose, she hid it in her sleeve. She could use it to tie someone up. She could use it to fashion a bridle for one of the horses.
She could use it.
Now she only needed a plan to go with it.
The meal Aylin prepared was simple. Cured meat—deer, he said, though Ash wasn’t convinced—with dried fruits and oatmeal. She was so hungry she ate it all. Merewen fell silent in the company of Crispin, and Aylin still didn’t meet her eye, so breakfast was a quiet affair.
After they banked the fire, Merewen led Ash to a nearby stream where she could wash up. Her arm ached dully despite the amulet, and when she returned to the wagon, she caught Crispin staring at her rubbing it.
He scowled at Aylin. “Tie her up carefully. I don’t think Vance or the palace will pay for damaged goods.”
Merewen rolled her eyes. “Don’t be rude, uncle.”
Aylin grabbed Ash’s shoulder tightly, and she winced. “Vance said he’d sort out our gold, Dad. We don’t have to deal with the palace again. That was the agreement.”
