Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 13
I sighed. Agados had provided more questions than answers, and it was only bound to get worse.
The next morning, the dirt-packed road was littered with signs pointing towards Soldato.
CHAPTER VII
Once all the business with Agados was smoothed over, we returned to Thule. Things were exactly as we had left them, and worryingly so. Claire still hadn't seen her father, and what was more, I hadn't seen Claire. I went from one chamber to the next in search of her, but she was nowhere to be found. Every time I stumbled across the staircase I was certain led to her rooms, I got halfway up before realising I was on the wrong side of the castle after all.
Kouris found me, and I could've cried with relief for her hands on my shoulders, steadying me.
“Now, yrval,” she said in her deep, comforting rumble of a voice. “You were almost forgetting this.”
She handed me a package, wrapped in strips of cloth and stuffed with bitterwillow, and my heart leapt into my throat. I'd almost forgotten this! I knew what it was, but didn't. I gripped it tightly and my fingers slid and squelched against what had been so carefully wrapped for me.
I willed my heart to slow. I had it now, and that was the important thing.
Kouris didn't stay for long. I carried on through the winding corridors of the castle, and when I saw her, it struck me: I hadn't been looking for Claire. That was ridiculous. It was Katja I'd been searching for, Katja who I'd come back for; of course it was.
It was always her.
I opened my mouth to call out to her, but no noise escaped. In the process of shouting for her to turn, for her not to disappear around the corner, the packaged tumbled from my hands and hit the floor with a dull, wet thud. It left a mark on the carpets, a thick, brown smear, and by the time I'd ducked down to retrieve it, strips of cloth unwinding thanks to my carelessness, Katja was in front of me.
“Rowan!” she said. “Oh, Rowan. Darling! You brought it after all. Oh, I so hoped you would.”
She was beautiful. The sun speared in through a high window, turning her blonde hair gold, and there wasn't a drop of blood on her. There never had been. Her smile was warm, eyes bright and honest, and I dug my fingers deeper into the package, nails finding flesh beneath the cloth.
I tried to speak, but couldn't. Didn't need to.
Katja placed her hands on my face and said, “I can see it, can't I?”
I could've sobbed with gratitude because yes, yes, I'd finally done something right; I'd got it right for her. For her. It was all for her.
I nodded. Katja’s eyes widened and as I held the package out to her, she leant close and kissed me. Just gently, just once.
I almost dropped it again, but her hands cupped mine, keeping it steady. Keeping me steady. Carefully, and without taking my eyes off hers, I eased it into her hands and began peeling the cloth back. Wait! my mind screamed when my mouth would not. It's Gavern! It's his head!
But the lengths of fabric were already being unwound, slipping between my fingers into a bundle on the floor. I could feel it in my hands, soft and putrid and despite everything, still warm. I didn't dare to look down until Katja did.
And there it was. Queen Aren's head, neck severed by a cut far less clean than Akela's axe would ever deliver. Katja pushed it against my chest and laughed, sound raw and mocking and hungry, and as heat rushed through my veins like burning hot shame, I let the Queen's head tumble to the floor and—
And awoke with a start, already sitting upright before I was aware that I was awake.
My heart rattled inside my chest, and my skin was damp with sweat. The summer night air did little to console me, and the relief I felt at realising it was only a dream and that Soldato was still a dozen miles away did not last long.
An old, familiar anger roiled through me. Katja. Katja! She used me as she pleased, ignored me in the waking world, yet in my dreams I could look at no one else. In my dreams, I was hers. I was hers and I wanted to be. I hated her. Every inch of my body hated her. Every hair on my head and crease in my skin was overwhelmed with it, but more than that, I was terrified that she knew.
She knew that I dreamt of her. She knew that in my dreams, I wanted to prove myself to her, wanted her to know that I'd been worthy of her all along. She must've known that I dreamt of her, because that had been her intention all along, hadn't it? To make me believe that no one else would ever see me for what I was, or...
“A nightmare?”
Kidira's voice.
I looked up, only then realising that my fingers were tangled in my hair. She sat opposite me, across the embers we'd cooked dinner over, and I didn't believe she'd got a minute's sleep herself.
I grunted.
With her arms around her knees, Kidira continued to stare at what remained of the fire. Eden was sleeping peacefully a few feet away from us, sword draped across the dirt at arm's reach, and I evened out my breathing, hoping I could at least pretend to sleep within a few minutes.
“That was the fourth one this week,” Kidira went on to say. “Was it about the man you killed? The pirate captain?”
When I'd glossed over my time in Canth, she hadn't reacted with anything like judgement or disgust. It was absent from her voice now, too. My first reaction, as it always was, was to snap at her, but it occurred to me that she was sharing something of herself with me. Had she not been awake, she never would've known I'd had so many nightmares.
“Sort of,” I said, indulging her. “What about you? Can't sleep?”
“I doubt you of all people would be surprised to learn that I often have trouble sleeping at night.”
After all she'd done, and all she'd lost? It didn't surprise me, but if I wasn't so consumed with hatred for Katja, I might've found myself hating the misaligned symmetry drawn between us. I could've believed that we were the only two people awake on the whole of Bosma, in that moment.
“You took a man's life. He was a terrible man, if Akela's accounts are anything to go by, and in doing so, you saved many lives. It may not be noble or right, but it was necessary,” Kidira said without looking at me. “I ought to have taken that man's head, when I had the power to. Ianto, I believe his name was. Jonas' life was taken by his plans, if not his hand, and I was content to follow the letter of the law, to have him beheaded. But I did not. He insulted Akela, mocked her in front of me, and I was petty. I let him burn. I wanted him to suffer for such a small slight, and as Queen, I could ordain it.
“That is hardly the worst thing I have ever done. At times, I let emotion rule me.”
I laughed at that, bitter and dry, and only stopped myself from saying anything more for fear I'd wake Eden. I didn't see much correlation between emotions and killing – certainly not a justification – but it was as open as I could hope to see Kidira.
I fell down without another word, and across the fire, Kidira muttered, “I sometimes dream of her, too.”
Come late afternoon, Soldato was before us. From the hills, it was easy to see how meticulously laid out it was. A dozen major roads made a grid of the city, taking people north to south, east to west, and hundreds of smaller streets ran like rigid tributaries, all sharp, straight lines and sudden angles. This was no city of felled wood: everything was polished stone, buildings designed to match their kin, and uniform patterns made the entire city too intentional. It was not made from old parts that had spread out, growing as the people prospered, as Isin had been.
I’d never thought of towns or cities as being organic before, but after seeing Soldato, I appreciate the way old and new blended together in Thule, the way each misshapen doorframe or missing roof tile gave the buildings character. I couldn’t imagine anyone living in any of Soldato’s buildings. In my mind, they were solid blocks of stone, not something fit to dwell within.
There was no castle, or at least not the sort I had become accustomed to. In the centre of the city was a great building, masterfully made with the utmost attention paid to detail, but lost amongst the rest of the similarities echoing throughout the city. The only thing that set it apart was its size: it was taller than any tower of Thule’s castle, and easily contained two-dozen floors.
We headed straight for it.
We left our horses with a reluctant stablehand and garnered plenty of attention from the citizens as we marched towards the centre of Soldato. There was none of the genuine, albeit unnerving, friendliness that we’d found in small villages, but that in itself wasn’t something uniquely Agadian. People stopped and stared but couldn’t hold my gaze when I looked back, and a ripple of whispers began to spread throughout the city.
Word of our arrival proceeded us at the central building, and the guards were more attentive than ever. A set of steps ran around the outside of the building, elevating it above the other streets in Soldato, and the guards’ armour clattered as they marched down to meet us. They were all men, or at least were perceived to be, and stood with their chins raised as they stared straight over our heads.
What did Agados need such an army for? Why did they need so many guards? They had achieved peace within the Kingdom through order and obedience, and there were no threats from the outside. They didn’t even have the excuse of razing their own towns and villages with dragon’s breath.
It was just another tactic. If the King continued to build his armies, to arm his soldiers in the streets, the people would believe that there was an enemy, and that the King was protecting all of Agados from an unseen force. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the pieces falling into place. I remembered how terrified I’d been by the mere thought of going to Kastelir, certain it was a war-torn land, consumed by its own struggle, and that the wall was the only thing keeping Felheim safe.
“Now that we’re here,” Eden whispered to me, “I would very much like to turn back.”
I fought off the urge to take her hand and run as fast as I could back to Oak.
Kidira stood ahead of us, as she had for most of the journey, and spoke to one of the guards. He made no reply, barely seemed to breathe, and Kidira didn’t waste her time again. She stared down the guards with an intensity the sun would’ve shied from, and didn’t move a muscle until two sleek doors opened at the base of the building after a restless hour of waiting. The doors were the same colour as the rest of the wall, and I hadn’t noticed them until they were swinging towards us.
A man emerged, dressed in fine but modest clothing; he wore no jewellery, and his hair was kept short and neat. He was perhaps fifty or fifty-five, and looked as though nothing in the world could faze him. He walked with his head held high, as was the custom in Agados, not wanting to grace us by looking directly at us. He took the steps one at a time, slow and steady. His robes billowed around him, and his personal guard moved in time with him.
“So. We do indeed have visitors,” he said in rough Mesomium. He spoke as though he did not understand the language, but was forcing it to comply regardless. Visitors wasn’t the word he wanted. Intruders might’ve better fit his tone.
“We are here by decree of the Princess of Felheim, as well as those representing the former Kingdom of Kastelir,” Eden said. It was easy for her to speak of her homeland with pride, after days spent in Agados. “We wish to talk, and clear the air between our nations. Nothing more.”
“Yet you have a sword at your hip,” the man pointed out.
“Take it,” Eden said. She unbuckled it without hesitation, sheath and all, and held it out.
The man didn’t look her way again.
“Kidira,” he said, coolly delighted, followed by a string of Agadian. “It appears we are finally able to drop the pretence of Queen.”
“I thought we might meet in your capital this time, Tirok,” was Kidira’s only comment.
Tirok. Tirok. The name meant nothing to me, but the Agadians had been sent to Kastelir, after the death of King Jonas. Perhaps he was one of the men who had pretended not to understand Kidira, when he didn’t like what she was saying.
Kidira reached for her bag and Tirok’s personal guard reacted as though she was the one who’d held out a sword. Waving them off, she approached Tirok and handed over the papers. He sorted through them, read every word of Mesomium and Agadian alike, and rubbed his chin in contemplation.
Once he was done, he folded the letters neatly in half and said, “I’m afraid His Majesty is occupied for the foreseeable future.”
“You’ll do,” Kidira said, and ascended the stairs without a formal invitation.
She handed her spear to one of Tirok’s guards before he had the chance to clear his throat.
“And who is this?” Tirok asked, inclining his head towards me.
“My bodyguard,” Kidira replied.
“She isn’t armed,” he said.
“She doesn’t need to be.”
I kept close to Kidira and let her shepherd me into the monolith of a building. Tirok could act as nonchalantly as he pleased; the mere fact that we hadn’t been cut down by the guards on our way in spoke volumes. The villagers and townspeople that made up Agados might not have known the extent of what had happened to Kastelir, but Tirok had eyes and ears everywhere. He was intent on keeping his Kingdom safe from the rest of Asar.
Inside, we were met with tall, narrow corridors, immaculately white carpets, and nothing that could rightly be called decoration. Nothing but doors lined the walls, and the glazed windows distorted the light that slipped through them. Guards were placed every dozen feet, and though they could’ve easily been mistaken for statues, they found a way to snap to attention and stand all the straighter when Tirok drew close.
“If you would,” he said, gesturing to a door that slid open with the help of a lever.
Two guards went in first, and Kidira and Tirok entered together, as though on equal footing. Eden and I followed along with the rest of Tirok’s personal guard, but didn’t get far.
The room was barely big enough for us to all stand in. Kidira found nothing strange about being forced to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Agadians, but Eden was as confused as I was when the door slid closed behind us. I didn’t manage to form an um before the entirety of the room shook. With a jolt, the floor roared and rose beneath us.
“It is a series of ropes of pulleys. A show of power,” Kidira explained, though she did not have to. “Do not let the overwhelm you, Rowan.”
I knew I could brave whatever this was if Kidira believed I was capable of doing so. Eden gripped my arm and I calmed myself in the hopes that she’d do the same.
My stomach twisted, unsettled but not about to turn. If I could dive off a mountain, I could stand to be pulled up a building. Ropes and pulleys, I told myself, like the mechanisms Reis had designed in Port Mahon to lift large cargo loads off the docks and into the town. Ropes and pulleys, but I still imagined the King’s hand above us, pulling us up and up like playthings.
The journey upwards was slow, but not nearly so slow as taking the stairs would’ve been. We were halfway up when something tore my attention away from the thought of being held up so high by nothing but a rope. My stomach didn’t turn but my heart caught behind my ribs, like it’d forgotten how to beat. I looked around, certain everyone else must’ve felt it, but their thoughts were all a million miles off. They didn’t; how could they? I couldn’t even describe what it was.
It was a sort of warmth, but we were well into summer, and the air itself brought that. Warmth alone shouldn’t have stood out. It was like I’d left a part of myself behind, but surely that was just me letting the Agadian device overwhelm me. I pressed my fingertips to my clammy palms. It was—
Kondo-Kana’s voice, muted across the ocean.
It was there and then it was gone. We continued our steady ascent and stopped with an abrupt shudder.
The door groaned open and spilt into a corridor that looked no different to the one we’d left.
Tirok and his guards marched down the hallway. When I didn’t move, Eden wrapped her fingers around my wrist and tugged me along. I’d imagined it. I must’ve. My head was full of rumours, designed to manipulate me in the first place. I had no proof that there was a King, much less a necromancer.
The room we were taken to was entirely stationary. It housed a table large enough for a dozen people to gather around, and the walls were covered in severe looking plaques with something carved into them. Names. Laws. Threats. I didn’t know, and didn’t think to ask.
Kidira took a seat, and Eden and I sat either side of her. Tirok sat opposite, and save for the two that remained at the door, the rest of his personal guard flocked behind him.
“Well,” he said, fingers fanning over the polished tabletop. “What are your demands?”
“Demands? We have no demands. Yet. We came for answers, Tirok,” Kidira said.
“Whatever agreements Agados and Prince Rylan may have come to are between myself and Prince Rylan. You understand the nature of confidentiality.”
Tirok didn’t do Kidira the disservice of pretending he didn’t know exactly what she meant.
“But we are here at the request of Princess Claire,” Eden said, and she said it so easily. Princess Claire, as though the mess Felheim had made of itself and Kastelir had not seen her as a Sir or Marshall or broken and burnt. “She is currently next in line to the throne. I would imagine that she has more authority in this situation than a rogue Prince.”
Tirok threaded his fingers together.
“And,” Eden added, “How much of this agreement involves not sending his dragons into Agados? Surely it is in your best interest as well as ours to see Rylan returned quickly and quietly to Thule.”
“Our agreement was a simple one,” Tirok said. He gave away everything in the grinding of his teeth. “Labour in exchange for labour. Agados has grown wealthy on the back of unique trades, and in that sense, this one was nothing out of the ordinary.”
