Splinter & Ash, page 18
Splinter couldn’t breathe. When she’d seen Anders from a distance, he’d been her brother, her family. Face-to-face with him, he was a stranger. “I defended you. I told him you couldn’t be—”
Anders pulled her toward him and wrapped his hand over her mouth. “Hush,” he hissed. “For the love of all the stars, keep your mouth shut.”
Splinter pulled and twisted, but he held her tightly.
“The flour barn,” the young baker, who’d watched the proceedings with a frown, suggested.
Anders locked eyes with Lucen and jerked his head in the direction of a tall wooden building. “Come along.” He scooped Splinter up and followed the baker, who opened the door for them.
After a moment’s hesitation, Lucen followed, his hand on his sword.
The baker stepped back toward the bakery. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Rian.” Anders looked down at his sibling. “Will you stop shouting if I let you go?”
Splinter grumbled and kicked at her brother. She tried to bite him.
“Splinter.” Lucen leaned against the door, his arms crossed.
She narrowed her eyes and stilled, begrudgingly.
“Good.” Anders set her down on top of stacked bags of flour. He ran his hands through his hair. “My sibling, the squire. It’s quite the break with tradition.”
Splinter heard the ghost of Lord Idian’s words, about the Larks who longed to go back to the old days. “Tradition needs someone to ruffle its feathers,” she snapped.
Anders grimaced. “Has anyone told you how much you’re like Mom when you get angry?” He turned to Lucen. “You’re like your mother too, if I’m to believe the stories told by our commanders.”
Lucen scowled.
Anders’s voice held an edge of anger. “I don’t know what Idian told you, but if you have evidence the princess is close by—”
“You’ll have to ask your Lark friends,” Splinter interrupted, her voice sharp with pain.
They’d come here for his help. They’d traveled for days.
She’d trusted her brother.
Anders continued as if Splinter hadn’t said anything. “The Larks are a myth. If you have evidence the princess is close by, I’ll do what I can to find her. But you will leave. You in particular, your highness. You’re not safe here.”
Lucen walked up to him, hand on the hilt of his sword. Breadcrumbs crunched under his feet. They made an odd pair, the knight and the squire. Anders towered over Lucen, and he carried himself with the confidence of a man who’d stared down blades and arrows, but he couldn’t meet the prince’s gaze.
“We need your help, Sir Anders,” Lucen said formally.
Anders shook his head. “There’s danger in these hills. I can provide you with an escort—”
“Sir knight,” Lucen started, but before he could say anything else, someone pounded on the wall of the flour barn.
“Anders?” A sharp voice echoed down the street. “Don’t tell me you’re with your baker boyfriend again. Come on, we have to talk.”
Anders’s eyes widened. His cold frustration made way for terror. He pushed Lucen toward Splinter, both of them stumbling into the bags of flour, in a cloud of white.
“Go.” He walked to the door, and right before he opened it, he turned back to his sibling. His mouth twisted. “And don’t look back.”
He slipped through the door, and outside, his voice echoed. “Vance? What is it?”
“Trouble is a-brewing,” the second person—Vance—replied. “We need to move up our timeline. I have to cross the border tonight.” His voice dropped.
Splinter ran to the door and opened it just far enough to peek through.
“Those are Labanne colors,” Lucen whispered, appearing next to her and pointing at the figure next to Anders, a knight captain in purples and browns.
“That’s Vance Labanne. Anders’s best friend when he was a squire.” Splinter could barely keep her voice down. Shock, horror, and determination were all wrestling to come out on top.
“He was in Haven for Ash’s party,” Lucen remembered. “Why would he need to cross into the empire?”
“He was at the theater, when Ash was introduced at court,” Splinter said. “Remember what Lord Idian said? In Haven, anyone could be a Lark. They hide in plain sight. But the Labannes have access to the palace. What if . . .”
Lucen nodded. “It can’t be a coincidence.”
“It can’t be.” It felt like the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and when she glanced at Lucen, she knew he felt the same. He smiled dangerously.
“He’s dealing with some kind of trouble,” he said. “It wouldn’t be knightly to let him suffer, would it? We have to find out what it is so we can help.”
Splinter and Lucen looked at each other.
Splinter had traveled to the end of the kingdom to see Anders again. Once upon a time, she would have trusted him without a second thought. He was her family, after all.
But Ash was her home.
Lucen held out his hand. She clasped it.
They weren’t going anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ash
Rope looped around Ash’s ankle, binding her to the wheel of the wagon with knots so tight she couldn’t untie them. She could walk around in the camp Crispin had set up, but never too far, and never out of sight from her captors.
Merewen sat across from Ash, her face puffy like she’d been crying. She hadn’t said a word since Vance had dragged Ash into the camp and dumped her at Crispin’s feet. She’d lost her smile. She turned her head whenever Ash tried to speak.
She’d only walked up to Ash once, to snatch the notebook from her pocket and hold it closely, hurt radiating from every movement. “I thought I could trust you. I thought you cared.” And then she’d pulled away.
Crispin and Aylin alternated between keeping an eye on Ash and turning to argue. An angry cut ran along Crispin’s cheekbone, and a bruise was starting to darken his eye. Vance had backhanded him violently after tossing Ash on the ground. “If anything happens to her, you’ll pay for it in blood,” he’d promised. “I will come back for her tomorrow night.”
“You better bring us our gold—” Crispin had started, but he’d cowered when Vance raised his hand.
“You’ll get your due. Do not test me.”
That had been half a day ago. Now it was nearing midday and Ash had mere hours left before Vance would come to take her to the Ferisian Empire. She’d be a prisoner. Or ransom, to be traded for pieces of Calinor.
The thought made her angry and sick.
She had to escape.
On the far side of the camp, Crispin paced, his hands behind his back, muttering angrily. Aylin dug around in the saddlebags.
Ash looked at Merewen. “You heard what Vance said, didn’t you?” she whispered. “He’ll take me away. He’ll pay off Crispin. And you’ll never see me again. There won’t be any bringing me home or whatever they promised you.”
Merewen pulled her knees up to her chest, but she didn’t turn away.
“Vance took advantage of your grief, and your uncle lied to you. And I’m sorry I stole your notebook. I am. But we have to stop him.”
“So maybe Uncle Crispin used me,” Merewen croaked. “But you did too. Let him take you.”
The words felt like a punch. “It wasn’t about you.”
“It wasn’t?” Merewen got off the tree trunk she’d been sitting on. She stared Ash down. “What then? Did I just happen to be the fool you could trick into helping you? Someone so desperate that she would believe a princess could be interested in her?”
Ash narrowed her eyes. The words didn’t sound like Merewen’s. “Did your uncle tell you that?”
Merewen jutted her chin out. She pulled the notebook from her pocket. “Aylin did. He reminded me that my head is too full of dreams to see reality. That people like you only use people like us as a means to an end.”
She stalked over to the campfire. She looked Ash straight in the eye. “It’s time to stop dreaming.”
Ash gasped. “Merewen, no!”
Aylin and Crispin whirled around in time to see the notebook hit the flames. It immediately caught fire.
Crispin dashed toward the flames, but the pages were already smoldering, and the leather binding began to char.
Merewen stood by and watched the book—and all of her maps—burn. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t flinch. When her uncle tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders, she shrugged him off.
She waited until the book was fully engulfed in flames before she walked back to Ash and sat opposite her, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist and her face pale.
Ash felt like crying. “Merewen . . .”
“No.”
Crispin stared into the campfire, looking lost. Aylin returned to his work, but he kept his head down and his shoulders were hunched up near his ears. And while Ash knew that Merewen hadn’t been entirely right, she hadn’t been entirely wrong either.
“You’re right. I tricked you,” she admitted. “You have every right to be angry with me. But don’t be angry with yourself. I needed to escape. Don’t you see? It’s not just about family, it’s about the fate of the kingdom. If Vance takes me to the empire, my mother will do anything to get me back, and a lot of people will get hurt.”
“Why?” Merewen scoffed. “You’re a servant’s daughter.”
“I’m not.” Ash fought to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know if the story you believe about Talwin is true, but even if it is, the queen chose me. She’s been my mother my whole life.”
Merewen swallowed.
“But we can choose to be family too, if you’ll help me,” Ash added recklessly. She was scrambling for a way to make this right for Merewen. “Come home with me. I’ll find a place for you at court. I’ll introduce you to the royal mapmakers. You could be their apprentice.”
A light sparked in Merewen’s eyes before she shook her head. She dug her fingers into the frozen grass. “So the royal guard can arrest me for kidnapping the princess? No thank you.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen.” Ash tried to move closer to Merewen, but the rope around her ankle prevented her. “I don’t know if we can be friends. But you deserve to be someplace where you aren’t lonely, and maybe we can get to know each other.” A place where they could find out what, if anything, was true of Merewen’s story.
This was the kind of princess she wanted to become. The kind who was gentle with other people’s hurts and dreams.
“What about the rest of our family?” Merewen asked. She tilted her head slightly. She looked older. She had had her heart broken, and because of it, it held edges and sharp points where there hadn’t been any before.
Ash winced. She didn’t have a good answer to that question. Even if Vance had manipulated them, court would want to see justice done.
“I’ll do my best to help them,” she promised.
Merewen grimaced. “Don’t bother if it’s so difficult for you.”
“You did abduct me,” Ash pointed out.
Anger flashed in Merewen’s eyes. “So you’ll let them rot, and I can be your charity case?” She sounded like she was itching for a fight. “Never mind. Besides, if you’re so important to the queen, why hasn’t the guard found you yet? Do you think your fake brother cares? He’s better off without you.”
“Vance said the whole kingdom is looking for me,” Ash said.
“Maybe he’s lying. Maybe they’re happy to be rid of you.”
Maybe Ash had never belonged at court at all. Maybe all those nobles who’d laughed at her were right.
Silence roared in Ash’s ears, all her worries and doubts slamming into her at once.
She didn’t want this.
She refused to let them win. The cruel nobles. The bullies. Merewen.
“I’m not the enemy,” Ash said at last, tugging at the rope that tied her to the wagon, though she didn’t have the strength to break it. “The Ferisian Empire is. Vance is. And if you don’t help, I’ll assume you’ve made your choice between the empire and Calinor too.”
Merewen’s bottom lip trembled. “I don’t care about the empire or about the kingdom,” she said. “I don’t even know who the empire is. I cared about you. About bringing you home. If we can’t do that, at least Vance will pay us well. Our family will have enough to survive the next winter and keep a roof over our heads.”
Merewen got to her feet and stalked away.
Ash’s stomach dropped. “The palace will pay you too,” she tried, as loudly as she dared. “Merewen, please. If he takes me with him, I’ll never see my family again.”
Merewen shuddered, but she kept on walking. She said something to Crispin, who’d remained next to the fire, before she disappeared to the other side of the camp.
Ash felt like she couldn’t breathe.
The time ticked away around her.
After Aylin finished preparing the midday meal, he took over guarding Ash. He placed a plate with stone-baked bread and salted fish in front of her and sat down on Merewen’s tree trunk. His daggers glinted by his side, and he ate loudly. When he went to grab a wrinkled apple, he nudged the burning notebook deeper into the fire with the toe of his boot.
And Ash snapped. She picked up the bread and threw it in Aylin’s direction, crumbs bouncing off his shoulders and arms. “I hate you! You pretend that what you’re doing is noble and right, but you’re a criminal and a bully!”
Aylin froze. Red flooded his cheeks.
Ash threw the fish next.
“Merewen cared about mapmaking, and she’s good at it. And instead of helping her, you tell her that she’s worthless. You call yourself her family, but you want her to be small when she could be great.”
Ash picked up the plate. “You lied to her and you used her and you stole me from my home and my friends and my family, and I hate you.” She flung the plate with all her might, and with a satisfying crack, it slammed against Aylin’s head.
He charged. The next thing Ash knew, Aylin was on top of her, pinning her down. His expression was twisted with fury and loathing. “You know nothing about me.”
Ash spat in his face.
Aylin pulled back to punch her. A large hand wrapped around his. Crispin dragged his son off Ash and tossed him onto the grass. “Calm down!” he roared. “Get away from her until you can behave!”
“But Dad . . .”
“Now!”
Aylin stumbled to his feet and stormed off.
Shaking, Ash curled herself into a tight ball.
Crispin forced her to face him. “Are you hurt?” he demanded, with all the empathy of a stonemason making sure his wares were unmarked.
To Ash’s horror, tears began to trickle down her face, the weight of everything that had happened catching up with her. “I want to go home.”
Crispin’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “We all want things we can’t have, girl. Vance will be here for you soon, and a good thing too. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
Tears clogged Ash’s throat, and she gasped. Crispin let go of her with a sound of disgust. She cried until the sobs stopped racking her body. She cried until she was too tired to cry. She cried until her head ached.
And then she balled her fists, took the knife she’d stolen from Aylin’s belt when he attacked her, hid the weapon in her shirt, and prepared to fight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Splinter
Lucen snatched a cloak from a wash line and smeared sand and dirt on his face and in his hair. If people didn’t look at him too closely, he could pass for a soldier back from assignment. Probably. “It’ll be better once it’s dark,” Splinter mused.
Lucen scowled.
They’d followed Anders and Vance from a distance, until the two knights entered the barracks. Now they lurked behind the building and peeked through the windows.
Inside, Anders and Vance had talked—and argued—for an hour, until Anders threw his hands into the sky and shouted something unintelligible. Vance had patted Anders’s shoulder and laughed at his outburst. They’d shared a midday meal together. Outside the barracks, Lucen’s stomach had grumbled loudly, and he’d dug in his pockets until he found a dry bit of jerky.
After the meal, Vance stomped up the stairs to the second floor, while Anders stayed at the narrow table, mindlessly tracing the marks in the woodwork, his knight’s sword leaning against the wall.
“You know what you have to do, right?” Splinter whispered.
“We’ve gone through this twice,” Lucen said with an amused smirk. “We split up. You follow Vance. I follow your brother. We meet up outside the stables at the second evening bell. If either of us is in danger, if they try to cross the border, or if we find out where Ash is, we go to the commanders immediately.”
Splinter bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly nervous. “What if we’re wrong? What if they don’t know anything?”
“Your brother is hiding something. And we’re Ash’s best chance.”
According to the stories around the encampment, the Ferisian Empire had sent messenger birds to Haven and denied all responsibility.
“Anything we can learn will help,” Lucen said, his voice brooking no argument.
Splinter straightened her shoulders. “You’re right. You stay here. I’ll find a quiet space to observe Vance. That way, there’s less chance we’ll both get caught.”
Lucen squeezed her arm. “Stars guide you, Splinter.”
“And you, your highness.”
Lucen smiled.
Splinter pulled her cloak tight and walked away. None of the soldiers paid attention to her, and eventually she sagged down on a crooked wooden bench that pushed against a quiet tavern. She picked up a crudely cut wooden doll and whittling knife that a soldier had abandoned, and with her hood high over her head, she kept a close eye on the barracks.
She pretended to whittle. She pretended not to think about her brother.
