Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 19
Queen Aren didn’t rise to Claire’s insolence.
Instead, she said, “I understand that you are upset, Claire. I am truly sorry for what happened to Orinhal.”
“Upset,” she said, reaching for her juice. She downed half of it in one go, but her voice remained dry. “I lost a city. I lost my city, a city full of thousands of people I promised to protect, to keep safe. I lost them to my brother, and now they are but ash. So, yes. These past years have been upsetting.”
“You know I did not mean that—”
“These past decades have been upsetting,” Claire said, ignoring her mother. Ignoring everything but the voice that screamed in the back of her head.
“Claire,” Queen Aren said firmly. Ducking her head, Eden focused all of her attention on shovelling her breakfast into her mouth. “Do not be so dramatic. It does not suit you. You have led a life of privilege with every opportunity given to you and your every whim catered to do. A setback of the sort does not take any of that away from you. You are a Princess, and more importantly, you are my daughter. Act like it.”
Claire said nothing. She stared at the forest green tablecloth where her plate had been moments before, and I knew one of two things would happen: either she would say something that she could never take back, or she would crumble.
And in spite of all that had been lost, from Orinhal to an eye, along with her sense of safety in her own skin and her trust in her family, she did not fall. She was not a ruin of herself.
“You sent me away,” she whispered.
“Excuse me?”
Queen Aren placed her cutlery on the table and sat straighter, fingers threading loosely together as she silently dared Claire to finish the thought out loud.
“You sent me away,” Claire repeated, voice level. I had not yet swallowed down the anger Rylan’s latest attack had brought with it, but none of that oozed from Claire’s words. They were clear and quiet, formed of nothing but truth and hurt. “I was not well. I was drunk, I was depressed, and you were embarrassed. You sent me away, to the mountains. For years.”
Queen Aren’s mouth pulled into a thin, tight line, and Eden looked up from her plate.
“You were young. Unruly. Half the women in the Kingdom had been seen leaving your chambers,” Queen Aren said, as though it was any defence. “You needed discipline. To see what life was like when you had to work for things.”
Claire said nothing. Her eye darted back and forth, reading something scrawled across the walls only she could discern, and when she slammed her fist on the tabletop, it was with such force that even the Mansels started. They flinched at the sound of plates clattering and glasses ringing, and as orange juice sloshed onto the table, they relaxed enough to not draw their weapons.
“You sent me away,” Claire repeated in a quiet hiss. “And you have not wasted a moment in letting the Kingdom know that I no longer have an army at my back. Rylan has killed thousands once more, because of what he learnt from you, and you are using it to your advantage. You are using it to ensure you remain on the throne. You can claim to condemn his actions, but you cannot deny that you benefit from them. That you inspired them.”
Queen Aren inhaled sharply, warning Claire of something that never befell her. She picked up a napkin, wiped her mouth, and carefully pushed her plate towards the centre of the table. The Mansels were ready when Queen Aren rose to her feet, and turned towards the door, flanking her.
“I’ve yet another busy day ahead of myself,” Queen Aren said, before leaving. “Take all the time you need, darling. You’ve had a hard time of it, lately.”
The door slammed shut. Only then did Claire begin to shake. She stared at nothing, wide-eyed, but did not allow herself to cry. I said her name, but she heard nothing of it. Eden, having experienced something of the sort before, acted where I could not. She took hold of Claire’s chair, and the legs scraped against the oak flooring as she turned it towards her.
“Claire,” she said softly, kneeling in front of her. She took her hands and squeezed them gently. “Claire. Have you been drinking?”
She hadn’t. I’d stayed with her all night, knowing it was a possibility. Knowing, more than that, that none of us should’ve been on our own. But I’d fallen asleep. I’d fallen asleep next to her, woke up next to her, but in the time between…
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Claire shook her head.
“I haven’t,” she said, closing her eye. Relief thundered through me, as though what came next meant nothing. “But I want to. More than anything – more than the throne – I want this. I want to forget.”
“They were your friends, and they were your people,” Eden said, words sharp but far from cruel. “To forget them would be to do them a disservice.”
Claire leant back in her chair and slouched. She dropped her gaze, eye meeting Eden’s, and the two of them froze. Claire’s hands fell to her shoulders, thumbs brushing the sides of Eden’s neck in a forgotten sort of familiarity that tore through them both. Eden’s hands moved to cover Claire’s, but in the same moment, they pulled away from one another.
I wished they hadn’t. I wished whatever had happened between them hadn’t been so awful that the love they felt for one another had become brittle and broken.
I wished they could’ve held one another without being afraid.
But they couldn’t. It was too late for that.
Eden rose to her feet, caught my eye, and so I said, “Queen Aren wants to make you look weak, but we know you’re not. Caring about people doesn’t make you weak, Claire. Caring is what’s going to make you a better Queen than she’s ever been.”
“If she does not have her little mutiny first,” Claire said.
I didn’t know how to reply, and neither did Eden. I hadn’t been able to process what had happened to Orinhal yet, and my scattered sleep left me feeling like a layer of dirt clung to me. Beyond that, I was numb to it all. Reality lashed out at Claire, and I would have to wait for her to absorb the brunt of it, before I could begin to mourn.
Getting to my feet, I said, “We’re going out.”
“Where?” Claire asked, furrowing her brow.
“Out! Into the city!” I said, shoving my chair under the table. “I’ve been here for ages, and I’ve still not seen any of Thule. Plus, it’s the Phoenix Festival and we know a phoenix. Plus, you need to get out of here. The people need to see you, so that they know your mother’s wrong.”
Something in Eden’s expression cleared. We didn’t have to sit in a stupor all day, so desperate to go back days or weeks or years that we couldn’t take a single step towards making right what little we had left.
“Rowan’s right,” Eden declared. “Queen Aren knows what she’s doing. Demoralising you isn’t simply a side effect of her practical nature.”
Claire hummed flatly, and eventually rose to her feet.
“Between the two of you, I am left with little choice,” she said.
It wasn’t a case of simply going to Thule and partaking in the festivities. As the celebration had differed between my village and Kastelir, so too was it different in Thule. The castle and the city’s celebrations were not simultaneous: the people of Thule had two days to celebrate, not three, and the nobles held their own balls and banquets a week later. There was no upper limit on how long those lasted. According to Eden, one year there had been a mistake made with the catering, and so much food was prepared that the festivities had lasted a full week. People could barely move by the end of it.
There was much to take into consideration, and most of that revolved around wardrobe choices. We had to look the part, Eden said. It was petty, she agreed, but so often, appearance was everything. She went to her own chambers and returned with her thick, wavy hair loose around her shoulders, and a long purple dress hiding her feet and showing her shoulders. She certainly had no difficulty looking the part.
In the interim, Claire informed Kouris of our plan and rebraided her hair, and Kouris neatened out the fraying hems of her sash. Claire similarly had no problems choosing an outfit for the occasion, and after half an hour of Sen’s help, emerged wearing a navy blue suit with silver stitching embroidered into the jacket, creeping up the high collar. At some point, she’d even had a new eyepatch made.
I looked between Claire and Eden and understood why Queen Aren was determined to put them in the same room. They looked as though they had been designed for one another, while I was clad in the same tattered, creased remains I always was. No one thought anything strange of it, because no one expected anything more from me.
“Laus and Ash are to meet us by the gates,” Claire said, pulling on thin, white gloves. “My brother will also be accompanying us.”
“Not a bad idea. Show the people you’ve got support from some of your family,” Kouris said, getting to her feet.
I took hold of the door handle, but Eden said, “Wait, wait. One moment, if you would.”
She’d left a bag by the door, and upon retrieving it, placed it on the desk in the corner.
“Gifts,” she said brightly. It was strange to see her smile after the day we’d had, but not altogether unwelcome. “Impromptu, I know, but they seemed relevant.”
“Not at all,” Kouris said, dropping herself back into her seat. “Back in Kastelir, we were making a day of gift-giving, around the festival.”
“Oh! Well, then I am perfectly prepared,” Eden said, and handed Claire a small parcel wrapped in pale green cloth.
Claire took it carefully between her hands, and Kouris, Sen and I leant closer in silent anticipation.
Inside was a falconry glove unlike anything we’d ever seen before. The leather had been dyed purple and gold, and it ran almost the full length of a sleeve, providing support for the arm. The part of the glove where a bird would rest had been made with something tougher than an eagle’s talons in mind, and long, trailing feathers made of leather and silk ran down the forearm and draped from the elbow.
“Thank you,” Claire said quietly, turning it in her hands. “It’s beautiful.”
“I didn’t want Haru-Taiki to ruin any more of your shirts,” Eden explained. “Honestly, it’s more of a gift for him, when you think about it. Oh, Sen—here.”
“Y-you didn’t have to,” Sen said, taking the neatly bound book from Eden. Her ears twitched as her fangs worried into her upper lip. “But, um. Thank you. I-it’s lovely. So nice of you…”
Kouris gave Sen a hearty pat on the back and chuckled under her breath, until Eden held out a gift for her, too. Kouris unwrapped a dragon claw pendant and her laughter turned to something a little more sincere.
“And for you, Rowan…” Eden said, holding out the last of the parcels.
In spite of everyone else standing with their gifts in hand, I hadn’t expected Eden to have anything for me. It was not because I thought her in any way spiteful or thoughtless, but I suppose I still found it strange to truly accept that people thought of me when I wasn’t around; that I existed, in the grand scheme of things.
Beneath the carefully folded cloth was a beautifully simple shirt. It was forest green with a neat, sharp collar, and was thin enough that the long sleeves and their cuffs wouldn’t be unbearable in the early summer heat. I twisted my fingers in the fabric and Eden patted me on the back, saying, “You’ve been terribly unsettled, and I doubted you had anything for the festivities. Well? Do try it on!”
I headed down to Thule like I was part of something. Ash and Laus accompanied us in their Felheimish armour, all gold and green, but beyond that, no guards or soldiers flocked around us. Eden left her sword behind and Claire and Kouris similarly went unarmed. It was better that way. Let the people know that we did not believe there was anything to fear from them and they would wish us no harm. It would do no good for Claire to go down to Thule but encase herself in a swathe of soldiers, putting her at a greater distance than ever from her people.
It was difficult to believe that there was anything worth celebrating in all of Bosma, but Thule was alive with it. The city was older than Isin and had stood for centuries before Kastelir was so much as a concept, and whole sections of it had fallen and risen. The part Eden led us to was open and wide, and clearly wealthy. Market was often held in the square that had been repurposed for celebration, and a lot of the revellers didn’t get that close to the castle on a daily basis.
Unlike Isin, the festival didn’t spread through Thule, twisting into narrow side-streets and dissolving into impromptu performances atop upturned crates. It was all confined to that one sprawling square, and all of the attractions were set out in a neat grid. There was a giant marquee in the very centre, as there had been in Isin, and all manner of smaller stalls and stages took their place around it.
People cooked meat and baked bread and cakes from the shopfronts edging onto the square, and Haru-Taiki’s shadow swept back and forth across the flagstones.
I walked arm in arm with Claire, no destination in mind, no catastrophe urging us on. Kouris had taken Eden’s arm and Alex walked along with them, while Sen headed off with Akela. Certain laws had yet to be rewritten. I didn’t know where Kidira was, beyond being absent. I felt a pull towards her, as if I should seek her out and not commiserate with her over what had happened to Atthis, or even talk about it. Rather, I should stand there in silence, lest she need someone to shout at.
“Are you certain you shouldn’t have more guards, Princess?” Laus asked. They were sweating beneath their armour, ceremonial and ornate, fingers twitching in anticipation of having to reach for their sword.
“Quite certain,” Claire said. “I trust Ash, and Eden trusts you.”
Not to mention: she had a necromancer, and Kouris could and would tear apart anyone to protect her.
Ash, who looked very much as though she had not slept and was not comfortable clad in Felheimish armour, rapped a fist against her chestplate and managed a smile. Claire’s faith in her was enough to keep her grounded, to stop grief from overwhelming her, and she needed to be doing something, anything, rather than come to a standstill once she reached Thule.
“If you say so, Your Majesty,” Laus murmured. “… Thank you, Lady Hawthorne.”
Eden smiled pleasantly, and I wondered if she’d ever expressed an ounce of insincerity in her life.
Even with an actual phoenix to entrance people, the festival remained what it always had been: a way to celebrate the end of necromancers and the watery deaths of Kondo-Kana. How wrong they were about it all. Their voices rose in conversation and song, familiar tunes twisted to take on a new meaning, and had Halla been with me, how would I explain this? How would I justify having taken her from a King who ensured she knew she was blessed to hold the power she did, to a country where people cheerfully called for the death of all those like her?
Which was not to say I believed I had done the right thing in leaving her behind.
In losing her.
It took absolutely no time for Claire to be spotted. She drew attention because of the burns she had no choice but to display openly, and when people stopped staring for long enough to realise that there was a person beneath those burns, it struck them all at once: the Princess of Thule had risen from the fire. I saw the same thing pass across all of their faces. Shock. Pity. To speak of burns and being reborn from the fire was one thing, and far more poetic in their minds than it was in reality, but seeing Claire for themselves stirred something within them.
And that something was what we had been after all that time.
“Princess!” a man called out. “Welcome home, Princess!”
The people gathered around us without towering over us. They didn’t loom in a way meant to intimidate us. Ash and Laus fanned out, holding out their hands, and people subconsciously respected their gold-clad authority and kept their distance.
I saw hesitation in Claire’s expression. She had been in one sort of power or another since leaving Thule, whether as a Knight or a Marshal, but it had been a lifetime since she played this role. She was their Princess, back in her rightful place, but if she did not remember the steps…
She took the crowd in with a sharp sweep of her gaze, and slowly raised a hand in greeting. People cheered. They waved back, calling out to her, words lost to the clamour. Turning slowly on the spot, she took in the sheer magnitude of the crowd around her, the people smiling and cheering for her. My heart sped up because suddenly, things were easy. There were no politics here, no nobles mulling over backstabbing her, and her mother was not hovering in the periphery, there to remind her of all her mistakes, all she had yet to overcome.
It was simple. I knew it was impossible for all to support Claire, for all to be glad that she had returned – or, indeed, for all to care – but the overwhelming majority of those around us came freely and expressed real delight in seeing her.
Tilting her head towards me, Claire whispered, “Perhaps I ought to have prepared a speech.”
When we moved, the crowd went with us. There was to be no aimless wandering, this Phoenix Festival, no napping in the shadows of statues. Performances stopped. Singers forgot their lines and bowed. Bakers ran from the edge of the square and offered us their finest, freshest goods, and Claire ate out in the open with only a napkin for a plate and her fingers to pick up crumbs.
“Prince Alexander!” someone called, and the crowd belatedly realised he was there. “Your Highness, it’s been years since I saw you and the Princess out and about! Takes me back!”
Grinning, Alex nodded his head in the vague direction the voice had come from and said, “I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to have the opportunity once again.”
There was a ripple of cheer, but something in the way of confusion swept over the crowd when it came to the matter of Kouris and me. Most in the city knew of Eden, and knew her well enough to find it strange to see someone else on Claire's arm. When asked who her companions were, Claire earnt her fair share of blank stares and uncertain chuckles when she said the pane next to her was none other than the once-dead Queen Kouris.
