Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 28
But I said none of that, convincing myself it was childish to give a voice to what I only knew to be true when every fragment of my mind was working against me. Things were clearer in the morning, and that was not necessarily for the better.
“I shouted. I said things I shouldn't have,” I said, burying my face in the crook of my elbow.
“So your answer is to run away?”
“It's not running away. I just—I wanted to leave. I still do. Just... just not now,” I mumbled and felt, in a way, that I had betrayed myself. Last night, I would've sooner clawed my own skin off than stay in Felheim a moment longer, yet now my throat became thick with guilt at the mere thought of leaving. I did not want to be gone; I wanted the things that sought to drive me away to disappear, as though they'd never held any sway over me.
Go. Stay. I would be haunted, no matter which direction I ran in.
“Look, yrval. You had an argument. I'm not gonna pretend that fighting is something that makes you stronger, because I've seen both of you this morning,” Kouris said. She held out her arm again and I didn't brush her off a second time. “But look at everything that's happened. Everything's so much bigger than you, bigger than all of us, and we're all bound to crack. Remember those horrible things we said to each other? Didn't let that defeat us, did we?”
“I should go apologise,” I said, pressing my face to her chest.
“Both of you need to take a minute to breathe and realise there's a whole lot more worth blaming than each other. Look at her, yrval. Her dad just died and she can't mourn properly because of the person she discovered he was. Her brother's trying to steal her throne, and her mother—gods, you've met her. She's faced with people who've known her forever, but remember her for who she used to be. Who they wanted her to be. And you, you don't need me to tell you what you've been through.”
I hated that she was right. I hated that it was what I wanted to hear.
“I got scared. I was... I was stuck in my head,” I mumbled. “I lost her once, and I'm so scared it'll happen again that I want to make it happen now, so I don't have to deal with any of this later. It's my fault. I'm...”
“You're up against what feel like impossible odds. I know that. Claire knows that. And we'll both fight for you, so long as you let us.”
Taking a deep breath, I nodded and said, “I'll take a bath. Then I'll go talk to her.”
Had I tried to say anything else, I would've broken down in tears.
“That'll clear your head,” Kouris agreed, clasping a firm hand against my shoulder.
I stayed with her as the birds began to sing, and imagined Haru-Taiki flying through the castle corridors and courtyards, outshining them all.
Support Claire, I thought. That's all I had to do. It was unfair of me to expect her to take me from my old home and find a perfect one for us, just waiting; we both had to work towards making it perfect for one another.
Yet I was too ashamed to face her. Ashamed of the way I'd shouted at her and accused her of not caring, when she was in so much pain she couldn't stand. How long had she sat there after I'd left, stranded in the centre of the piano room, alone?
Too long. Too long.
Eventually, I made a noise which Kouris took to mean I was ready to go. She hoisted herself to her feet, blocked out the sun, and held a hand out to me. Looking up at her, I remembered how new I'd been to the world when we'd met; more than that, I recalled the way I'd been so scared of everything, of every looming shadow and rustling bush, but had chosen not to be afraid of her. It'd only taken a handful of hours and my heart had stopped thundering in my chest, because of who she was.
I wrapped my fingers around two of hers, let her pull me up, and barrelled against her stomach. I wrapped my arms as far as they'd go around her and said, “I love you. And I'm sorry I was going to leave without saying anything.”
“Love you too,” she said, splaying a hand across my back. “And you weren't gonna leave. Not really. Reckon you just needed to get something out of your system. I'm just sorry you ever felt the need to leave this place.”
We returned to the castle hand in hand. It was more alive than ever, as if the inevitable rumours of Aren's confinement were enough to allow everyone to move freely once more. There was such a blur and a buzz to it that I could not tell between the nobles and servants in spirit alone; in the same way, I could not discern between those organising Claire's coronation and those planning the King's funeral.
“… Breakfast,” I said, not yet brave enough to face the future Queen. “Let's get breakfast first.”
If I ever saw Kondo-Kana again, the first thing I would ask was how she had grown so content in her hunger. I could not imagine it abating, for I had barely gone a day without food and my stomach was clawing angrily at me. Kouris agreed that food would make me brave, but we didn't get the chance to turn towards the nearest kitchens.
“Rowan!” Alex said, hooking his arm through mine and leading me in what I was sure was a very important direction. “Just who I was looking for. Might I borrow you for a moment? Just an hour or two?”
“I think you already have,” I said, glancing back at Kouris.
She saw us off with a cheerful wave, deeming her work done, and had far more important matters to attend to.
“What is it?” I asked Alex. I didn't point out that he was in a rather good mood after recent events, because it was nothing but a tactic to push away the thoughts he couldn't dwell on any longer.
“The coronation, of course! There's so much to prepare and so little time. As I'm certain you know, my dear sister wishes to, I quote, get it over and done with as quickly as possible. She claims to have more important things to worry about than decorations and invitations, when she knows as well as I do that failing to invite someone convinced of their own importance will cause horrific problems down the line.”
There was something different in the way people were looking at me. They no longer saw me as just a farmer: they were trying to gauge how best to earn my favour, and how useful getting on my good side would be in the future.
“I thought planning parties was your thing. I'm not sure how helpful I'm going to be, unless you want the coronation to look like something out of a portside tavern.”
Laughing to himself, Alex said, “No, no. That isn't it at all. As I said, my sister claims to be far too busy for trifling matters such as what to wear. It is down to me to find something suitable, and since the two of you are involved as you are, I thought you might like to offer me some insight.”
Talking about Claire was enough to feel guilty, never mind going along with things as though I hadn't been shouting at her last night. Still, I dove headfirst into an excuse to postpone the inevitable.
“Alright,” I said, forcing a smile. “What were you thinking?”
Apparently, Alex was thinking of every shade of fabric and every type of cloth. There were plenty of royally-appointed tailors living and working within the castle walls and dozens more had come to the castle in the early hours. We visited them all before the morning was out. Each boasted that they had been thinking of nothing but this event for years, and that they had dreamt of Claire's dress mere nights before she announced she was to be Queen.
I spent hours running my fingers across what was supposedly the finest fabric in this Kingdom or any other, and Alex hummed, asking me what I thought of this cloth, and would that shade draw too much attention away from the proceedings?
“Alex,” I said, pulling him aside as yet another tailor toyed with a tape measure, convinced they had already been given the job. “You said Claire didn't have time to talk about her dress, right?”
“Yes. She was far too busy for any of it,” he said, distractedly eyeing a pile of sample fabric that probably would've made a half-decent pair of curtains.
“No. Listen. She didn't want to talk about the dress, did she? You said that to her—that you wanted to get her a dress.”
“I... yes,” he said, creasing his brow as he realised he was missing something.
“Claire's burns, they aren't just...” Lowering my voice, I started again. “Why do you think she's always wearing high collars and long sleeves? It's summer! Her burns are everywhere, Alex. Not just on her hands and face, where you can see. It's not that she can't be bothered to pick a dress. She doesn't want one.”
Alex's face paled. Letting out a heavy breath, he rubbed his fingers against his lips and looked anywhere but at me.
“She always loved dresses so very much that I just assumed...” he murmured, but shook his head. Without meaning to, he said, “It’s all so very much, Rowan. I am so out of the loop. Every time we speak, Claire has some other awful news to impart. She told me about Kouris. About the truth of her.”
I did not know what he meant: that Kouris was the Kouris of legend, or that she had truly been beheaded.
I found myself forgetting that only I knew her as Katja far too often.
“Oh,” I said, wanting to speak of nothing but textures and hemming. “You didn’t know she was still alive, did you?”
“It was a relief, for all of a moment. Which was inevitably followed by guilt. What sort of man is daunted to hear that his fiancée is alive? Former fiancée, that is. From what Claire has told me – and she was clear, though not explicit, I assure you – the underlying sense of unease I always felt around her was more than justified. It’s simply that my mother was so eager to see me happy… or married, one or the other, that I pushed it aside. I know the agreement was always political in nature before it was anything else, but…”
“She’s not a good person,” I told him. I almost didn’t feel as though I was lying. “And you are. You deserve someone who’s not just manipulating you to get to your country.”
“Thank you,” Alex said, smiling. He put a hand on my shoulder, spun on his heels, and said, “You! Tell me, what options can you offer in the way of suits?”
The rest of the day unfolded in much the same way, though Alex turned his attention to me. He had already chosen a tailor for Claire's coronation suit when he asked me which one had been my personal favourite. I shrugged, picked one that stood out from a sea of much the same, and the next thing I knew, I was the one being fitted for new clothing.
Alex didn't notice the way I dragged my feet, or how I bristled at every mention of Claire's name. I was almost thankful he had his declining family situation to focus on, and did all I could to play the part of a distraction.
When I finally gathered something close to courage and set off to find Claire, partly motivated by Alex's attention being demanded elsewhere, I didn’t have an easy time of it. After a solid five minutes spent working myself up to knock on the door, I found that she wasn’t in her chambers, and half-relieved, set about wandering the castle aimlessly on the off-chance I might walk into her.
Again, people were taking notice of me. Some went so far as to bow their heads or smile politely. The servants gave me a wide berth, rather than weaving around me at the last moment, and the voice in my head that wasn't mine but wasn't anyone else's said it wasn't going to last. Sooner or later, they'd find out what I was.
I tried Eden and Kidira's chambers, but had no joy with either of them. I was unfamiliar with much of the castle, and came across no fewer than two libraries, four pantries, five dormitories, and a single ballroom on my journey. It was Akela's laughter that led me in the right direction, after an hour spent hoping the entire day would be taken up by fruitless wandering.
I followed the warm, familiar explosion of sound to a set of doors that looked more important than doors had any right to. While they were not so decorative as the doors outside of Kyrindval’s great lodge, there were plenty of carvings to take in. They were all words, from what I could tell, and swirled together to form an image I was too close to see.
I could've stepped back to figure out what it was, but I'd wasted enough time. Akela had only just stopped laughing, and now was as good a time as any for me to make my entrance.
The door creaked on its hinges. Whatever argument had been brewing found respite in my interruption.
There were a dozen people in the room, but only Claire, Akela and Kidira numbered amongst those I recognised. When Claire looked at me, she did not look through me. She was not angry, but she was not relieved, either. She met my gaze, and it was like the first time I'd seen Sir Ightham without her helmet all over again.
The unknowns, likely people with more political sway than I could imagine, glanced at Claire and waited for her to handle the matter. When she said nothing, Akela slumped in her seat, scooted under the table, and kicked one of the chairs on the other side out.
“Northwood, you are sitting and you are listening to this,” Akela said. With no one else offering any suggestions, I took my place around the unremarkable oval table. “This man, he is saying he is Lord Aldonai, and he is inheriting his title from his mother who is doing something very innovative with crops, yes. This man who is never holding a sword, he is thinking he is having the right to be saying I am not being the commander of this Felheimer army.”
With her hands planted on the arms of her seat, Akela pushed herself back into a respectable sitting position and folded her arms across her chest.
“But you are going to be commander again, right?” I asked.
“She is,” Claire informed the room.
“I am not doubting Ayad's credentials,” the exasperated Lord said. “I am merely saying that a matter this grave ought to be put to a vote, and that with all due respect, Your Majesty, you are not Queen yet.”
“The King is dead and the Queen consort no longer has a say in matters. Prince Rylan has an army a mere two months out, and we have a respected, capable Commander sitting in our midst, willing to lead us to victory. I will not put it to a vote. As she has so rightly pointed out, you do not have any military experience,” Claire said sternly. “There is no one else to make these decisions. The coronation is a mere formality. Do not presume to hold power over me until then. Does anyone else object to Akela Ayad's instatement as Commander of the Felheimish army?”
Several others in the room clearly did. She was a Kastelirian with the remnants of an Agadian accent, and they had never seen her do more than pat the axe at her hip. Unlike Lord Aldonai, they weren’t so willing to speak up. They sat there, forcing themselves to bide their time. No doubt they already had treason in mind, even if not a single one of them possessed the will to actually go through with it.
It was a time of great unrest and change. War loomed on the horizon. No wonder everyone was so tense. From what I could read in Claire’s features, she took absolutely none of their hesitancy or resistance personally, and her only action against them would be to prove herself over and over.
“Wonderful. First things first, of course, I am letting everyone in this room suddenly decide that they are happy for me, and are wanting to buy me a drink,” Akela said, clasping her hands together. “Secondly, I am having to wear the colours of Felheim? I am thinking, gold and green, they are not really my colours, yes?”
“You will look fine in them,” Kidira said, eager to hurry things along.
“In that case! Yes, yes, of course, I am wearing these colours proudly. They will be working for me, I am certain of this.”
The rest of the matters they had to discuss weren’t as interesting or elevating. It all boiled down to taxation, loans, the houses currently in power, and those that had driven themselves into debt. There was much talk of numbers and the rest was metaphor I tuned out. Between the lot of them, they managed to drag it out for another two hours. Akela broke the tension whenever it arose, and Kidira assured it didn’t remain banished for long.
She had been Queen for thirty long years. She knew all the tricks the council members and politicians would try to pull.
When matters were attended to for the day and people began to filter out of the room, I wished for another dull hour of accounts. Akela squeezed my shoulder on the way out, always knowing when she needed to wish me luck, and Claire continued to read endless documents as though she was alone.
“Claire,” I said weakly, when she turned yet another page rather than look up.
“You didn’t leave, then,” she said, eye fixated on some meaningless number.
“I didn’t. I wasn’t going to. I was just angry and afraid. I’m still afraid,” I said, ducking my head to catch her eye. “Every time someone looks at me, I’m terrified they’ll know what I am and that it’ll ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for.”
“It’s fine,” Claire said briskly. I sat in silence, allowing her a moment to gather her thoughts. “We have been through more than anyone should ever have to in a lifetime, and yet no matter how it has changed us, we cannot rightly compare what we have suffered. The result might be the same, but the reality…”
Shaking her head, she finally met my gaze.
“Things will get worse before they get better. That is the only thing I can say for certain. I can, however, promise that I will do all I can to ensure you are not driven from Thule. The castle will never again be my home, if you are not here. But understand that you should not let me bind you to such a place. If you will be safe in Canth, if you will be happy there, then I will not force you to stay.”
“Claire, I—” I started, but she was not done.
“It will not always be like this. Have you ever thought to yourself: I cannot do what tomorrow demands of me? Have you ever gone to bed and found yourself unable to sleep because you are so fixated on how you do not have what it takes to fulfil impossible, future tasks? It may seem obvious, but it is because you are tired. Exhausted. Because the day has already demanded enough of you. If you were to say to yourself: well, I shall not do it, and retired to sleep, you would awaken the next morning renewed, and it would no longer be such a monumental task.”
