Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 20
“And who's this?” someone asked, pointing towards me. They rocked on the balls of their feet, trying to discern how much respect they ought to show me.
“Rowan Northwood,” Claire said, and patted the arm linked with hers.
“Yes, but who is she?”
“Not a Duchess or Baroness, if that's what you're implying,” Claire answered, to which the crowd took a distinctly interested tone. If I wasn't from the castle, wasn't part of the nobility, then I was one of them.
Claire took a great risk in so much as admitting that she knew me, let alone taking me into her chambers, and there she was, parading me around the city like I belonged beside her. She wasn't ashamed. I wasn't a relic from the part of her life where she'd been away from the castle. She'd come back to all of this, and she still wanted me.
Wherever we went, people wanted to know what had happened to Claire. What had really happened. They all had their own theories, had all heard something or another from someone who knew someone who worked in the castle and had overheard one of the maids talking, and none of them were quite as unbelievable as reality.
Claire had slain a dragon, cut it open, and pried the phoenix from within its chest, where the fire it once breathed had gathered; she had travelled to Canth, and found it living between the scorching sands and humid jungles; the phoenix had sprung from her wounds, fully formed by the fire that marred her so; the phoenixes had never been dead and gone, but were simply hidden, biding their time and waiting for someone worthy of their aid to emerge.
Claire smiled more and more with each rendition of Haru-Taiki's rebirth, and when pushed for an answer, said, “I shall reveal all later.” I caught her eye and saw a spark there, and knew that there was a speech yet to come. Rumours flew in all directions, but none so fast as the news that Princess Claire would be addressing the people later in the evening.
Ash and Laus did a great deal of posturing, but there was never any need for them to draw their weapons. I had expected to feel guilty for heading into the heart of a celebration immediately after receiving the news of Orinhal, but this was exactly what we needed. We needed to see the Felheimish for what they were: people, just like those who had made up Kastelir, people who had no idea what their rulers had done and bore no responsibility for it.
These were the people we were fighting for. There was still life out there, and all was not lost.
We were carted from one performance to the next. I did nothing to hold back my incredulous expressions at the scenes of Myros and the treacherous necromancers therein, and outright laughed when they spoke and sung of Kondo-Kana's death with delight. By the end of every song or play, the actors were red-faced with exhaustion, having put their all into impressing the Princess, and when Claire nodded her head or clapped, they were instilled with enough pride to keep them performing for another decade.
As the sky began to turn a dusty red, Kouris patted her stomach and Eden said, “Yes, perhaps we ought to stop for dinner.”
Food was being prepared all around us. It was only a matter of following the smell.
As we veered towards the side, ever surrounded by a swarm of citizens desperate to catch our every word, a woman leapt forward, placing herself squarely in front of Claire.
Laus reached for their sword but Ash, amused, put a hand on the back of their wrist, steadying them.
The woman, wearing a thin, light dress that flowed with her every movement, was equipped with nothing more threatening than a fiddle. She grinned widely, stretched out an arm, and clasped her fiddle to her chest as she bowed.
She remained like that until Claire said, “Rise,” one corner of her mouth threatening to slant upwards.
“Your Majesty,” the woman said, and propped her fiddle on her shoulder. She drew the bow across the strings, testing them, and frowned when the sound didn’t please her. Clearing her throat, she zigzagged the bow until a rhythm rose out of the wood and said, “It is an honour, truly. I told stories of your Knighthood in taverns years ago, and now, I get to tell stories of your return. I am but a humble bard: will you not throw me a bone, Princess, and offer me some new knowledge to weave into song?”
Concealing a smile, Claire said, “I am to address the people in a matter of hours. Does your craft not require patience?”
“Psha!” the bard said, swaying to and fro on the spot, feet moving as if mimicking the steps of a dance. “By then, a hundred songs will have been composed, and a dozen plays will be in the works. And that's not to mention the limericks!”
The bard frowned and let out a low, trembling note to match it.
“Are you not supposed to earn my favour?” Claire asked, softening, just enough to let the bard know she could be convinced to relent. “Rather than begging for scraps before me. You are hardly the first to ask for some preview of the truth from me today.”
The bard rose to the challenge. She twisted on the balls of her feet, eyes closed as she let out a flurry of light, sweet sounds.
“Then might I share the tale of the Myrosi Queen, Eos-Heda? Ah, but always a Queen she was not! Born in a time of strife, when Myros and Mesomia thought war more profitable than trade, Eos-Heda grew up out of sorts with her people. And her family, her family did not always see things in the same light as her,” the bard said in a sing-song voice. Turning on the spot, she took in the crowd around her, then focused her attention back on us. “In a time of war, whoever has the most resources is the victor. It was never about the battles – and so rarely is! – but rather about who can feed their troops for the longest, and who can stop them from tearing each other apart.
“But Eos-Heda did not think war the only way, or the right way. She did not raise armies, but that is not to say she did not defy her family. And had she not, she—”
The bard snapped her mouth shut when Claire raised a hand.
“Not to your liking, Your Majesty?”
I glanced up at Claire, expecting to find her frowning. A light smile played on her lips.
“You said something about limericks?”
The bard’s eyes flashed.
“I did, I did indeed! Very well, let us see,” she said, stirring up another tune. “There once was a Knight from Thule,
With a Kingdom she'd one day rule,
She was true to her word,
With her fire-clad bird,
Forged from flames, but never cruel.”
Eden clapped, encouraging the crowd to do so, and the bard bowed. While I thought it was impressive for something concocted on the spot, Claire said nothing.
“Hm? Not good enough, Your Highness?” the bard asked playfully. “Then, how about this:
There once was a Knight called Ightham,
Who hunted dragons to fight 'em—”
Finally laughing, Claire beckoned the bard closer. With a single step, the bard put herself close enough for Claire to whisper in her ear. She listened intently, grinned, and bowed as she hopped back.
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty. You are truly too kind. I will not forget this! And do not forget me,” she said. “Should you ever hold a banquet, or find yourself in need of entertainment at Winter's End, a coronation, a wedding—” Pausing, she winked at me. “I will be by your side in less than a heartbeat.”
With that, the bard chose not to push her luck and disappeared into the crowd. I took Claire's hand as we continued to search for food, and said, “What did you tell her?”
“That Haru-Taiki was forged from the Phoenix Fire, in the heart of Myros,” she whispered. “It is too absurd not to be true.”
By the time it came for Claire to give her speech, all of Thule was crowded into the square. The marquee, meant to host the evening's main entertainment, went abandoned when we realised that people would be spilling out onto the street, unable to see or hear anything. A stage was set aside for us, platform elevated above the masses, and as I looked out across the square, I saw a thousand tiny lantern lights waiting to drift into the night sky.
I stood by Claire's side, as did Alex. Eden, Kouris and Akela were behind us. Ash and Laus stood at the foot of the stage, weapons at the ready, and Claire let the crowd thrum with anticipation and excitement. She did not start her speech with words, but rather a display.
Pulling on the glove Eden had given her, she held out her arm. The light evening breeze caught on the decorative feathers, causing them to trail behind her. Ever knowing how to make an entrance, Haru-Taiki dove downwards. The city drew in a collective breath as a blur of purple and gold shot towards them, only for Haru-Taiki to spread out his wings, catch himself on the air, and land proudly on Claire's arm.
“This is Haru-Taiki of Myros. He is not my phoenix, as so many have claimed. He does not belong to me. He is my friend,” she said, voice causing everyone spread throughout the square to stand straighter. Recognising the word friend, Haru-Taiki bowed his head. “He was dead and gone for fifteen hundred years, and yet here he stands. Kastelir is gone. The land is ashes, and the survivors are no longer united under one flag. Agados bites at our heels, demanding that we give what is not ours to give: the freedom of the people who have already lost all else. As Felheim has suffered at the dragon's breath and Kastelir has done the same, so too have I.
“I have endured the flames. I have seen death, I have seen destruction, and I have felt loss. But here stands Haru-Taiki, brought to me when I did not believe there was hope left for Asar, or myself.” Taking a breath, Claire caught my eye and held Haru-Taiki closer. Suddenly, I found myself blinking back tears. “Here stands Haru-Taiki, risen from the flames. I did not think I would ever be back here. I did not think I would ever have the honour of addressing you again; I did not let myself believe that you would welcome me, or that I could feel any more devoted to my people.
“And so I am not here to speak of myself. Not today. Today I am here to say thank you,” she said, and bowed her head. “Thank you for welcoming me home.”
The people were still cheering as we made our way back to the castle. People spilt into the marquee, chanting Claire’s name as the bands began to play and ale flowed from barrels, and though I had hoped to see the last of the celebrations unfold, I could sense purpose in Claire’s every step.
She walked faster than she should’ve, but the certainty in her stride told me tomorrow’s suffering would be worth it. Haru-Taiki flew ahead of us, glancing back every few seconds to ensure that he was heading the right way, and every servant, noble and scholar stopped what they were doing to stare.
From the sheer number of guards stationed outside of it, I knew the doors we stopped at led to Queen Aren’s chambers. Claire ignored their crossed spears, pushed past their barricade, and pounded loudly on the door. One of the Mansels answered, but before she could spit out What do you want? Claire splayed a hand against her chest and pushed her back.
“Mother,” she said, and made a demand of it. Listen to me, she meant; not Your Majesty. Only Haru-Taiki and I followed her into the room.
“What is it?” Queen Aren asked from behind her desk.
Marching over, Claire pressed both hands flat against the desk and leant towards her mother.
“Let me see my father,” she ordered. “Let me see my father, or I shall tell all of Thule that you are responsible for the dragon attacks. That you have always been responsible for our misfortunes. Let me see my father, or I will ensure the people hear me. I know they will believe me, and they will rally behind me.”
CHAPTER XI
“We aren't stupid,” one of the Mansels said. Like Haru-Taiki and myself, they had been relegated to the corridor, while Claire faced off against her mother. “That's why we're out here with you. Already know too much.”
“I'm guessing the Queen doesn't trust you to know the rest,” Kouris said, one ear raised and twisting, tunnelling sound from beyond the door the Mansels wouldn't let her lean against.
“Like Emma said, we're not stupid,” the other – Amy – said. “Between the two of us, we know enough secrets to line our pockets for a lifetime.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked and stepped forward, only for Emma to shove me away from the door. “Go betray the Queen and use the money to move to Canth. You'd like it there. Everyone's always looking to start a fight.”
Amy barked a laugh and said, “Tempting, but I'm fond of Felheim. We became Knights for a reason, and we still want what's best for the Kingdom. The Queen's not perfect – not that you heard it from me – but she's been here all this time, keeping everything under control, and she's not a drunk. So: we're not stupid. We know how this might go. And should it go to complete shit, I want you to remember that we were only being loyal. Only doing as our Queen ordered.”
“Nice,” Kouris growled. “Swearing loyalty and preparing to double-cross one Queen, all while belittling the one that's gonna end up on the throne next.”
They shrugged in unison. If it came to it, I knew we'd find a use for their blades, if not a liking for their personalities.
It'd been minutes since Queen Aren had demanded to be left alone with Claire, and my skin crawled at the thought of how she was turning this latest development against her. Kouris could hear something through the door, but not nearly enough, and she jumped as much as I did when it swung open.
Claire was at the door. Queen Aren wasn't.
“He isn't in the castle,” Claire said, staring straight ahead. “No wonder we could not find him.”
The door swung closed behind her, and her entire body tensed when I put what was meant to be a comforting hand on her back.
“The manor by the lake,” she muttered. “That's where he is.”
The Mansels glanced at one another, uncertain whether they had what it took to brave the Queen after her defeat. I did not think for a minute that Queen Aren hadn't planned for this possibility, or that she wouldn't find some new way to keep Claire under her thumb, but we'd taken one of her better weapons from her.
“You sure you're wanting to go now?” Kouris asked, following Claire down the stairs. “It's been a long day. Last night's news, being out there in the festival... It's getting late.”
“I'm going now,” Claire said, taking heavy steps down.
“You could sleep on i—”
“I'm going,” Claire repeated. She gripped the bannister tightly, lest her knee buckle. “And I would rather I had you with me, Kouris, but I will not tolerate being talked out of it. Not when that will give my mother time enough to send the King far from Lake Lir.”
Ears dropping, Kouris caught my eye and took hold of Claire's elbow.
“Aye,” she murmured. “Was just thinking of you, that's all. You know I'm with you in this. Always.”
I headed down backwards, eyes fixed firmly on the doors. The Mansels took their places either side of them, and I heard nothing from within. No outburst of anger, no calling for guards to stop Claire leaving the castle.
Lake Lir was further than it had looked, from Claire's window. We had to pass through a courtyard and out of the castle grounds, and that alone was enough to draw the attention of half the castle. Word of Claire's speech was already rippling through Thule, and though the city stood by her, the same could not be said for the nobles milling around to catch a glimpse of her.
There was something dishonest about them. There was no loyalty to be found amongst those Queen Aren had spent the last few decades keeping in her pocket. Uncertainty jittered between them, as though they feared the tide was turning, but could not tell if it was too early to publicly side with Claire.
They looked at us, and then away. If they had any idea where Claire was heading, they might've jumped ship there and then.
Lake Lir was in the heart of the forest, a little to the east of the path we'd taken with Eden upon arriving in Thule. While it was the royal family's land, it was outside the castle gates. Soldiers patrolled the lake, lanterns in hand, and as we drew closer to the mansion, they marched over, meaning to dismiss us. Once the lantern light flickered over Claire's face, they pressed their lips tightly together and stepped back, apologetic and uncomfortable.
“He's in there,” I said, manor house in sight. There was another fence around it, and the guards unlocked and pushed the gate open for us. A gravel path led up to an enormous pair of front doors. Had the manor house not been in the shadow of a castle, it would've been an impressive building, but I found myself unable to think of anything like architecture. The King's disease, his healer's bane, was palpable. It was thick and sticky in the night air, as if it was responsible for turning the sky black, but more than that, I found myself nauseous. “There are healers, too.”
“Healers?” Kouris said, lifting her chin to take in all of the building, as though she might be able to pick them out through the walls. “Wanna stay out here, yrval?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. It was too late. If I could feel them, they could feel me. They might not understand what I was, but in time, they'd confide in each other. In time, they'd put the pieces together, as Katja had. “I want to go with you. If that's alright, Claire.”
Claire didn't answer. She was staring at the far end of the building, to a room on the upper floor, where a light burnt within. I moved closer to her side, placed a hand on the small of her back, and banished the ache so much walking and standing had spread from her leg, outwards.
“Please,” she eventually murmured. “Both of you.”
The manor house was full of rich carpets, beautiful portraits and intricate ornaments, I was sure, but I took in none of them. I knew the way without knowing the building, spurred on by the rot that was so close to consuming the King. There were healers there: why could they not cleanse it? I could see it, dark, sodden threads in my blind spot, drowning out my vision. The first hint of it set my heart racing. It was as though the disease wanted light to spill from my skin and rise from my eyes, for it was a battle not to rip it clean out of the King.
But I wouldn't. Not until Claire told me to.
The King's room lured me towards it. Claire reached for the door as it was pulled open, and two men – the healers, from the way my stomach turned – filled the doorway. They didn't stare at Claire, at their Princess, but at me. They stared as though they were looking straight through me, and it wasn't until Kouris stepped forward and towered over them that they remembered how to focus on anything else.
