Splinter & Ash, page 14
“We’re the ones who’re risking our hides. Doesn’t hurt to have a backup plan. We can barter the girl for the treasury if Vance doesn’t come through.” Crispin jerked his head toward her. The implication was clear: Ash didn’t need to hear this discussion. “Get her inside, we need to continue on north if we’re to meet him on time.”
But while Aylin marched Ash into the wagon, Merewen piped up. “We can just take her to Aunt Enda now. You told me Vance only wanted us to get her out of Haven. That’s why he came to us, because he knew we’d care.”
“You foolish girl. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”
“We’re not villains. She’s my—”
“Silence!”
While Aylin yanked her arms behind her back, Ash considered what she’d heard. She was Merewen’s what, exactly? And who was this Vance who wanted her away from the palace? It wasn’t a Ferisian name, but if they were headed north, they were headed toward the Crescent Mountains. Toward the empire.
He had to be another one of the spies Uncle Lam had warned them about.
At least Crispin had given her one piece of crucial information. He was worried about hurting her. So that meant if she was injured, they’d have to stop to find a star temple or a physician to help her—or tempt the wrath of Vance. A single star amulet wouldn’t do the trick, and once they were near a village, it’d be a far easier escape than here, in the middle of nowhere.
Aylin wrapped a piece of rope around Ash’s wrists. She struggled enough to make it difficult for him, and he grunted. “Careful. You’re the most precious cargo we’ve had in a while.”
It was the first thing he’d said to her, and she tried to look at him. “Is that all you care about? The gold? Is it worth committing treason for?”
“Treason, princess?” Aylin shook his head. He dumped her on the floor of the wagon and towered over her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You couldn’t understand what it’s like to be so hungry or cold that people grow sick from it. You’re hidden away in that palace of yours. You wear your star amulets, and you have no idea how much people are hurting because of the war. Merewen has a head full of dreams. The gold will feed our family for years to come. It’s absolutely worth it.”
He climbed out of the wagon, shutting the door behind him.
Ash pulled her knees up to her chest.
As much as she hated to admit it, Aylin had been right. Even in Byrne, away from the luxuries of the palace, she’d never gone hungry or cold. Aunt Jonet’s storage cellars were always full, and there was plenty of food at the table. Sterne had once told her his parents saved the scraps of every meal, just in case, but she had never thought about what that meant.
She’d always been taught that comfort and power were part of being a royal, in return for duty and responsibility. Comfort, so they could focus all their attention on doing right by Calinor, without wanting for themselves. Power, so they could protect the realm and its people, to make sure everyone could live well and thrive.
But if that was the case, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, why wasn’t everyone thriving? The queen fought to convince the merchants of the floating docks to pay taxes so that the people of Haven could be provided for, but the royal treasury held more than enough coin to cover the cost.
The families of the knights and soldiers who protected Calinor, the bakers and butchers who provided the realm with food and security, the masons and carpenters who built the streets, the temples, the houses, the palace . . . they all did their duty and they were all responsible for a small part of Calinor. Didn’t they deserve comfort too?
Ash bit her lip. She didn’t have any answers.
Two of the horses were harnessed to the wagon and pulled it back on the road, where they settled into a comfortable rhythm. Crispin called to Aylin to check out the road ahead, and the hoofbeats of the third horse disappeared into the distance before returning.
As the hours passed, the light that filtered in through the cracks between the panels turned brighter and then, slowly, to a purple-hued dusk.
Ash had pushed herself back into a sitting position in the corner of the wagon. She’d found a rusty nail poking out of one of the planks, and she tried to use it to saw through her binds. The strands of rope caught on the nail and unraveled, one at a time. She didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, one hand slipped free. And then, the other.
She pulled at the leather straps of her braces. They were made to keep her hands and wrists in the right position, ensuring that they wouldn’t swell up and become painful. It was freedom, to have them strengthen her. Before, when she was smaller, her fingers would snap apart as easily as twigs, and her wrists and ankles would angle in all sorts of odd ways, leaving them completely useless. Once Aunt Jonet’s blacksmith had made the braces to keep her joints in place, she could finally play without worry of breaking.
But Ash had learned that if she reversed the bands and rings, the braces could as easily push those joints into opposite directions. Once when she’d sneaked up to Sterne with her fingers bent like bony spiders, he’d run screaming.
It hurt. It would hurt for days afterward, and she didn’t have more amulets to ease the pain, but it’d be worth it. Ash clenched her jaw and reminded herself of all the bruises Splinter had gathered during training. If Ash fell into Ferisian hands, her mother would be forced to make impossible choices. She could be as brave as Splinter to escape.
She twisted her braces.
The wagon slowed down, and Crispin called for them to take a break. “We’ll have dinner and wait until nightfall, and then we continue on. I want to get as far away from Haven as possible.”
Ash inched closer to the door. As soon as the wagon came to a stop, she let herself fall as loudly as possible, and she screamed in pain.
The wagon rocked as the door slammed open and Crispin darted in, his heavy boots causing the wood to groan and creak. “What is going on here?”
Ash angled her face away from him. Her cheeks flushed and she blinked hard, trying to look as disheveled as possible. “My arm,” she moaned. “I fell. It hurts. Please, I need help.”
She felt Crispin edge closer, and when he bent down to examine her arm, she cried out again. “No, no, no! Please, don’t touch it! I think it’s broken!”
He muttered a string of curses, and without care for her protest, he grabbed her by her shoulder and planted her in an upright position. “We can’t bring you to Vance like this. He needs you whole enough to travel.”
Ash tried to curl herself up in as tight a ball as possible and sniffed for good measure, but tugging at her arm in this position was painful enough that it made her head spin. She didn’t have to fake that. She just had to focus on running, the first opportunity she had. And she repeated the same rushed garble of information to herself over and over again.
My name is Princess Adelisa. I was kidnapped. Please bring me to the guards. You’ll be well rewarded. Please help me.
Through her eyelashes she could see Crispin running his fingers through his beard while he considered what to do with her. He was green and uncomfortable at the sight of her arm.
“Please help me.”
“Where’s that star amulet? Merewen!”
“She already used it,” Ash croaked.
Crispin cursed. “That girl is too softhearted. We need to find you a physician.”
Ash’s heart leapt.
Then the wagon door creaked again, and Merewen came in. “No, we don’t.” She carried the same bucket she’d used to gather water for breakfast. She held strips of cloth and a small bag with dried herbs. She crouched down next to Ash and ran her fingers over Ash’s arm.
Ash winced and arced away from her, but to no avail.
“I have a better cure than bracelets and amulets,” Merewen said, determination in her eyes. “I used to care for Nanna’s aches. I can splint her arm if it’s necessary, and wrap it with wet cloths infused with star mint and pink rue. It eases the swelling and cools the ache. She’ll be fine.”
Crispin coughed. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes,” Merewen said confidently.
Ash gaped at the girl. It was the same remedy Brother Nivanil had used, when the star amulets weren’t enough, before she got her braces. “How do you know how to do that?” she asked, temporarily forgetting her pain.
Merewen’s eyes were dark enough to look like molten silver. Behind her, Crispin retreated, and as soon as he stepped out of the wagon, Ash could hear him retch.
“I know you’re trying to escape, but I won’t let anyone take you from us,” Merewen whispered. “Not again.”
“What does that mean?”
Merewen poured the dried herbs into the bucket with water and placed the linens in the infusion. Silently she opened the leather straps of the braces. She untied the star amulet, which had grown dull, and tossed it aside, unimpressed. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek, and when she’d taken off all of Ash’s rings but the decorative ones, she squared her shoulders. “You need to know who you are.” She took a deep breath, and then all the words tumbled out.
“Twelve years ago, when the royal carriage slipped off an icy road, it wasn’t just the prince consort who died. The driver died too. And the queen’s companion . . .”
“I know.” Ash frowned.
“You don’t. She was called Talwin. Nanna always said she was powerful and strong like the sea. Talwin moved to Haven to become a seamstress, and she was allowed to work for the royal family. Talwin and the queen became friends. She became her personal seamstress first, and then her companion. She was with child when she traveled with the royal family that night. The queen’s daughter had been born just weeks earlier, and Talwin was convinced her daughter would grow to be the princess’s friend too.”
Ash felt faint. “What are you saying?”
“Someone else died that night when the carriage crashed.” Merewen’s voice grew soft. With steady hands, she wrapped the fabric around Ash’s arm.
“Talwin’s daughter?” Ash asked.
Merewen shook her head. “No. The queen’s daughter. The princess. Talwin lived long enough to give birth to her baby. When she died, the queen decided to raise the child as her own. She wanted to protect the people from the grief of losing the prince consort and the princess on the same day. Better to pretend the princess survived. But she forgot about us, Talwin’s family.”
Ash tried to push away from Merewen, but Merewen held her tightly.
“Talwin was Crispin’s youngest sister. I know how to tend your aches because I recognize them. Our nanna had bones that snapped too easily and hands and feet that twisted in all directions. Dad too, before the sea claimed him. It runs in the family. Your family. You’re family.”
“You’re lying,” Ash cried. Her plan was forgotten. She felt like she was tied to the floor and she had nowhere to run.
Merewen wrung out one of the linens and wrapped it around Ash’s hand. “That’s why Vance came to us for help when he discovered who you are. He wants to cause chaos, but Uncle Crispin cares about family. We could help each other. We didn’t steal you. We’re finally bringing you home.”
Chapter Eighteen
Splinter
When night rolled in, Splinter and Lucen dashed across the square. A gaggle of guild apprentices gathered around the fountain, skidding stones off the ice and sharing stories about their workday. One apprentice pulled out a flute and blew a merry tune, until an elderly passerby with a sour expression scolded him for making light of these dire times. The boy crossed his eyes at the man. On the ledge of a building, a night crow cawed.
A full day had passed since Splinter and Lucen left the Maronne household and sneaked back into Haven. The sun had come up, and Splinter had realized neither of them knew where Lord Idian lived. Guards had flooded the streets, ordering people to keep an eye out for the missing Princess Adelisa—and the wayward Prince Lucen. Fear rolled through the city like a storm. The palace was in disarray, and the queen was sick with worry.
“You should go back,” Splinter had told Lucen.
He’d grown paler overnight, the dark circles around his eyes even deeper. He looked at a loss without the other squires around him. “Will you?”
She’d glared at him. “Of course not.”
“Then don’t tell me again.”
She hadn’t. They’d laid low, sticking to narrow alleyways, scampering over walls and rooftops, hiding between buildings. Twice they’d turned a corner and walked straight into a contingent of guards.
The first time, near the central market, Lucen had ducked into a pile of waste and vegetable refuge. He’d picked slimy lettuce leaves off his cloak for hours afterward.
The second time, the guards were so close Lucen had frozen up. Splinter had hooked his arm through hers and dragged him to a store window, as if they were apprentices shopping. In the reflection of the window, amid the jars of colorful candies inside, she’d seen the guards take notice of them, so she’d elbowed him and pointed out a jar full of sugar crowns the size of thimbles, loudly convincing him to buy some. A young street urchin placed her hands against the window, salivating. When the guards passed them by, Lucen’s shoulders had sagged in obvious relief. He’d glanced at Splinter before he’d slipped the girl two silver coins to buy all the candy she wanted.
Splinter had considered him. “Did you do that because you wanted to help her or because it made you feel better?”
He hadn’t answered.
Now, in the evening light, they were halfway across the square when guards with torches appeared at the far end. This time it was Lucen who reacted first, grabbing Splinter’s hand and pulling her into the crowd. The apprentices moved without question, hiding them from view.
The flutist picked up a song again, mocking the guards.
One snarled at him and pushed him aside, but they kept walking.
As soon as the light of the torches disappeared, Lucen and Splinter let go of each other’s hands and ran.
In a shaded alleyway, Splinter paused to catch her breath. “And here I thought traveling with a prince was supposed to make life easier, not harder.”
She’d meant the words in jest, but Lucen looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” Splinter didn’t know what to do with that. She felt off-kilter around the crown prince. It was much easier to think of him only as a bully, but Splinter had seen flashes of worry, loyalty, curiosity. She didn’t know this side of Lucen. She wondered if anyone did.
She turned the corner, into a familiar street. “Come along, highness. Let’s go ask Camille how to get to Lord Idian.”
The moment she’d realized she didn’t know where Lord Idian lived—and that maybe she didn’t know Haven quite so well as she’d boasted to Ash—she’d known the one person who would be able to help them. She also knew that approaching her home by day would be tantamount to walking up to the nearest guard station, so they had to wait until nightfall.
Now that night crept through the streets, DuLac manor was a haunted house, full of ghosts and bad memories.
She led Lucen toward the mansion, and she clenched her jaw. “The gate will be guarded, so we’re going to have to walk around. There’s a servants’ entrance off the main road.”
“You don’t look excited about coming back here,” Lucen remarked, his eyes dark. He sucked in the corner of his lip, and his unruly hair pushed out from under his hood. He resembled Ash, Splinter thought. She had never been able to see it before.
“I’m not,” she said.
“Why? It’s your home. Your family. You think they’ll help.”
She winced. She hadn’t explained to him who Camille was. She did so now, in as few words as possible. The housekeeper’s son, and her oldest friend. “The only family member left in Haven is my uncle, and he won’t help. He agrees with you that people like me shouldn’t be squires.” Splinter licked her lips. She sprinted past the house and into the side street. She made sure the street was empty before she gestured Lucen to follow her. “He doesn’t even know I’m not a girl. He just thinks I’m a stain on the family legacy.”
Red blotches appeared on Lucen’s cheeks. “I . . .”
Splinter didn’t want to hear it.
She dashed up to the house, knocked on the door of the servants’ entrance, and darted back into the shadows.
For the longest time, nothing happened. Then the first lock opened, the sound echoing against the tall buildings across the street. The second lock. The door opened just far enough for one of the servants to look out.
It was a stroke of good luck after a string of misfortunes when Camille peeked his head out. “Who’s there?”
“Camille!” Splinter’s voice cracked. Her eyes stung and she didn’t quite know why. “Come out, I need to ask you a question.”
Camille slipped out the door, hooking the ring of keys on his belt. He blinked, adjusting to the low light, and shivered. When he spotted Splinter, a smile broke through on his face. “Of course you would be the one to get me into trouble.”
She ran and wrapped her arms around him. “I missed you.”
He squeezed her hands before he took a step backward. “The manor is boring without you. Except for today. Guards were in and out.”
“Looking for me?”
“For him.” Camille pointed to Lucen, who edged closer.
“Is there any word about my sister yet?”
“No, your highness. They’re searching. Court is in a panic, and it’s rippling through the kingdom.” Camille punched Splinter’s arm. “Do you know what your uncle will do if he catches you?”
Splinter shuddered. He wouldn’t be thrilled to see her, that much was sure. “We need to find Lord Idian.” She tugged at the collar of her tunic. “I don’t know where he lives.”
Camille stared at her in silence for a heartbeat, then he rolled his eyes so hard, she thought he’d topple over. “You make a fine rescue team, the pair of you.”
