Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 34
“Who’s there? C’mon, get the hell out of the shadows already. You ain’t no good at sneaking!” Varn called.
Taking slow steps forward to avoid being impaled, I held up my hands and couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.
“It’s nice to see you too,” I said.
Varn glowered at me as though she would’ve rather had her dinner interrupted by Gavern, sneered for a solid five seconds, then threw her spear to the ground.
“Your Majesty. Permission to punch North Woods in her stupid face?” she asked, not letting her posture slip.
“You may hug her,” Queen Nasrin said.
Varn settled for the middle-ground. Marching over, she slapped a hand on my back and rubbed her knuckles against my scalp, not relenting until I’d pulled her into a hug.
“My! I daresay this was unexpected,” Atalanta said, cheerfully leaving her bow on the ground as she rose to her feet. “Gods! It’s terribly good to see you, Rowan. How did—”
Atalanta had no need to finish her question. Yin Zhou and Ade stepped into what little light there was and the atmosphere quickly changed from one of surprise and wonder to that of stiff respect and formalities.
“Yin Zhou. Hashá,” Atalanta said, taking off her hat. She swept it in front of her chest and bowed deeply. “We had not thought to expect your company either, my captain. It is a true honour to see you in my homeland once again.”
“Atalanta, my dearest,” Yin Zhou said warmly. She gestured for Atalanta to rise, placed both hands on her cheeks, and kissed her forehead. “How wonderful to receive such a welcome.”
Varn, who had been burrowing her gaze through Ade, belatedly remembered to bow.
Queen Nasrin didn’t stop threading her fingers through Kondo-Kana’s loose, wavy hair. That was one of the things that stood out most about Yin Zhou: people felt compelled to find uses for their hands around her, in such dire need of a distraction that they restlessly had to create one.
“Aunt,” Queen Nasrin said. “What brings you here?”
Queen Nasrin kept her tone even and her eyes sharp. I doubted there were many other people who could’ve done the same in such company.
“Do not worry about that. Rowan has far more interesting matters to share with you.”
“I expect so,” Queen Nasrin said, glad that it wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait. “When I last saw you, Rowan, I put you on a ship to the home you so desperately wished to return to. It has been mere months, and yet here you are. You could not have spent much of that time on solid ground.”
“I…”
It was hard to speak, hard to tell the story the way I wanted to tell it, with Yin Zhou’s eyes on my back. Faltering, I was drawn to Kondo-Kana’s sleeping face, hoping to find some determination there.
“We shall wait inside,” Yin Zhou said. “We’ve heard enough.”
Queen Nasrin and Atalanta watched as Yin Zhou traipsed her way across the garden while Varn’s gaze remained fixed on Ade.
“Okay. It’s a bit of a long story. Ready?”
Over the last few days, I’d become proficient in telling tales of Asar. A few short months ago I was back on its shores, sharing stories about Canth. I sat in the long grass, legs stretched out, and told the story as best I could, from Ironash to my village, from Orinhal to Kyrindval to Thule. I didn’t mention the Bloodless Lands. Not in any real detail. That part was for Kondo-Kana and she was still half-asleep; she heard what she wanted to, but didn’t open her eyes.
There were plenty of interruptions, most of which came from Varn. She was determined not to believe in Oak until she saw him with her own two eyes. In her words, dragons were something Kouris had made up to mess with her.
“That was more interesting than some of Kana’s tales,” Queen Nasrin said, once I’d reached Canthian shores but omitted enough details for the leather folder in my arms to remain a mystery. “Well. Your new Queen has her Kingdom and you have a castle to call your own. What brings you here? Not that I object to seeing you, Rowan, but your report raises more questions than it answers.”
“Seriously, a Queen?” Varn whispered loudly. “Nice one. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Congratulations,” Atalanta said with polite sincerity.
“I, um. Thanks!” I said, glad it was too dark for anyone to see how easily my face turned red. “I’m here as an ambassador. I have a message from Queen Claire. About the alliance!”
Queen Nasrin tapped an impatient finger against Kondo-Kana’s shoulder, frowned, and said, “If you are being sent to collect some new debt I am about to learn my father incurred, I can only pay it in the form of carefully planned promises.”
“Actually,” I said, opening the folder. “She wanted to get rid of that bit about debt.”
Queen Nasrin had learnt not to hope long ago. She held out a hand and said, “Let me see those.”
I handed her the letters. Settling back against the bench, Queen Nasrin read them far too quickly to take in any of the details. She started again, and handed each page she’d read to Atalanta, to confirm she’d interpreted them correctly. Queen Nasrin’s face remained blank, ever unwilling to give anything away, but Atalanta’s eyebrows crept higher and higher until blinking was out of the question.
“Canth’s debt is considerable. It has been accrued over generations,” Queen Nasrin said. “What could Felheim possibly stand to earn from this arrangement?”
“Claire knows how much it is! But she thinks it’s more important to have real allies. For us to open up trade and travel channels,” I said, heart skipping a beat when Kondo-Kana stirred but didn’t wake.
“It is all written here, Your Majesty,” Atalanta said, tapping the pages she’d read against her palm.
Waving a hand, Queen Nasrin said, “When something seems too good to be true, that’s because it is. I will sign nothing until I have assurances that we will not be worse off than we are now. I will not have this debt taken from Canth if our dignity is to go along with it.”
“But—” I tried, desperate for her to realise that this benefitted us all.
“No more,” Queen Nasrin declared. She took the papers from Atalanta and rebound them. “I suppose I’d better not leave Yin Zhou unattended for too long. I rather like my head being on my shoulders.”
I didn’t miss the way Queen Nasrin’s gaze lingered on Atalanta, or indeed the way Atalanta pretended not to notice. She stood to attention, took the papers from her Queen and gestured for Varn to get to her feet. I bit the inside of my mouth to hold back all the arguments Queen Nasrin didn’t want to hear. She was well within her rights to be cautious. She didn’t know Claire and her only experience with Felheim was one of exploitation.
Let her sleep on it. Let her read the letters over and over, until she saw that there was no catch: only an offer of friendship.
“I shall leave Kana to you,” Queen Nasrin said. She was well-versed in extracting herself from beneath Kondo-Kana’s sleeping form. “Find us when you’re ready. I’ve no doubt that Yin Zhou has plenty to discuss with the both of us.”
Atalanta mouthed lovely to see you as she marched past and Varn bumped my shoulder with her own. I smiled at her back, hoping she’d frown without knowing why, and waited until they were out of sight to tiptoe over to Kondo-Kana.
She smiled as I approached, closed eyes creasing at the corners.
“Aejin yu ka Aejin,” she said, voice thick with sleep. It was like music. I wanted to reach out, to brush her cascading hair out of her face, but had never known myself to be so content merely looking.
Looking, breathing, waiting. All of them were remarkable, in her presence.
She stretched out, toes curling, and blinked her eyes open. She sat up, soft and languid, arms stretched above her head. When our eyes met, it was like my vision had focused for the first time in months. Her eyes were not the white of the Bloodless Lands; they were something purer, something truer.
I held out a hand to help her up. When she took it, I couldn’t let go. She didn’t mind; she didn’t pull away. It was the same for her. Her fingers dug into my wrist and she trailed the back of her other hand down my cheek.
“You have changed once more. So very much, and in such a short span of time,” Kondo-Kana said. She moved her hand from my cheek to my chest and splayed her fingers over my heart. I had wondered. I had wondered if it had really been destroyed when I fell from the mountain and oh, it had. My heart had been torn from me and something strange had blossomed in its place, but it didn’t matter. Her hand was on my heart and it didn’t matter. “I have barely seen a dozen moons since last you were here.”
“There’s so much happening. I have to keep up,” I said, pressing my lips together. I didn’t want to kiss her, it was just—
It was something so much more than that.
“Humans are this way. They believe they have less time than they truly do and occasionally, they are motivated to make the most of it,” she said, fingers fluttering away from my heart. “You brought interesting stories with you, Aejin. Kings dying, Queens rising from the ashes, Kingdoms rending themselves apart; these things happen. But Oak. Oak is different. I should like to meet him.”
“He’s… it was amazing. I could feel that there were gaps in his mind, and I wouldn’t be able to bring him back to life like I usually did. They were empty and gaping, and there were too many of them. Just bringing him back wouldn’t work, so I—I poured myself into him. That’s what I did, isn’t it? I don’t know how I knew to do that, or that it’d work. I just knew,” I explained as she entwined her fingers with my own. We took a trodden path around the gardens, moonlight guiding our way.
“Yes. Yes, I know the way of these things,” Kondo-Kana said, smiling wryly. For a moment, she was firmly in the present. She wasn’t trapped in the murk of a past that was lost to her. I knew then that so many of the things I had been told about the war were true; I knew she had risen and manipulated dragons and pane, knew that she had emptied herself into the holes driven into their heads. “Do not worry. Oak is different. Oak is you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. She didn’t hide her smirk.
Breaking her gait, Kondo-Kana stepped in front of me and tapped her fist beneath my jaw.
“You are a little lamb,” she said. “The person who hurt you. When you told me about her, she was right here in the palace. Your insides have been twisted and your mind turned against you, yet you never once thought to harm her. She was right there, Aejin. I would’ve broken her to pieces, if I thought it was what you wanted, but you only needed to know how you could move past this all. How you could trust your friends to understand that there was more to you than pain.”
I couldn’t stop frowning.
“So? It’s not like I could do anything.”
“You could. You could, but you didn’t. Your actions were not an absence of anything; you chose another path. That is all. If it was me, if someone tried to hurt me again, they would be on the ground before they could reconsider their actions. In the ground before they could be missed.”
“That’s not… listen. That’s not how it works. It doesn’t change what I can do. I mean, if you went up to someone, just a regular person and said… Hey, you know that person you hate? If you stab them, they won’t fight back. And you won’t get into trouble! Most people wouldn’t be able to do it, just because they could. Right?”
Kondo-Kana wrapped her fingers around my jaw and smiled softly.
“I am happy. Happy that the things you have been through have not changed you, Aejin. Nothing has been so terrible that the things you could never do quickly become the things you have already done,” she said, and let go of my face to continue walking. “Would you like to hear a story?”
Wrapping both of my arms around one of hers, I rested my head against her shoulder and said, “I came all this way to talk to you.”
“Very well,” she said, but did not start her story until we had rounded the palace.
I was not anxious. I was not eager to hear her tale. Around her, I was nothing but calm and content. Chandaran was alive with the falling night, the day’s heat forced to subside, and I watched the city’s lights flicker through the wrought iron bars.
“I was in love, once. Before Nasrin, that is. Long, long before her. I have been in love many times, I suppose, but it is like pain: so easy to forget, once you are no longer experiencing it. But I was young, and I was in love,” she began, eyes flickering and dulling. “Her name was… it is a Myrosi phrase. I would not like to tell you what it was, without you knowing my tongue. You would not understand. To you, it would be empty syllables. A sound as vast as a dying star. It would not mean what it does; and what it means is the feeling that thaws in your chest when you realise that spring is upon you, and winter is no more.
“But I loved her and she loved me. She worked in the temple I was assigned to. She was the only Priest – the only person – who did not think as much of me as I did myself. She taught me to be humble. That I ought to understand that Isjin had made me what I was in order to serve, not so that I might glide through life, expecting everything from everyone. When I was your age, when I was younger still, oh, I expected the world to bow to me. And it did, until I met her.
“And she knew that. They knew that. The people who sought to silence and control me when I gathered the courage to question the way of things, when I saw enough to realise that my fellow Aejin and I were being exploited,” Kondo-Kana hummed. Before I could interrupt, she added, “That is not a story for today. It would not serve you well, and I can only be expected to remember so much at once.
“When I raised my objections, when I fully understood the power within me, they took her. They took her because they knew there was only one way to truly hurt a necromancer. Five years by her side, with her in my arms, and when they gave her back to me, there so little left that even I could not bring life to the dark, wet pulp. Whether they burnt parts of her or used their blades or—” Pausing, she took a deep breath of the night air. “I do not know whether I have chosen to forget how they tortured her or whether I could not tell in the first place. It does not matter. Why should it matter? I was the reason it happened. They took her because of me.
“I knew that then, but I understood something more keenly than that: they took her. They chose to do the things they did to her. I did not force their hands. I wanted freedom. They… I did not make them do that. I thought I was a lamb once, Aejin. I believed that I was innocent and that my circumstances were beyond my control, but it was not so. Do you know what I did to the people who took her? To the ones who ordained it all?”
I didn’t want to know. It would change things. It would change what I thought of her. I knew that. I knew that, and yet—
“What did you do?”
“I took them. I took the man who returned those insignificant scraps to me, as though the dark meat in his hands was her, and I did not use my powers. I used what I could wrap my fingers around, what I could feel: rocks and blades and pieces of broken glass. He begged me not to do it. He said that he was thinking of me. He would be dead within hours or days and would be free to spend the rest of eternity in the Forest Within. But I, I would be haunted by it for all time. I would not be able to sleep at night. I would not be able to live with myself. I would become someone I did not recognise. And I looked at my hands, wrapped around blades and slick with blood that wasn’t my own, and I listened to him. I looked at my hands and reminded myself that they were the same hands that had held her, the same fingers that had traced impossible shapes across her skin with such love…
“And I laughed. I laughed and I laughed and I could not stop, even as I cut into him. What did it matter if it haunted me? Five years, ten years. A hundred years. I could live with that, so long as he experienced a fraction of the pain I had in his last moments. I would become the monster they wanted me to be, because I would live forever. I would be haunted, and then I would not. I would forget.
“And you, Rowan. You could do the same. All this trouble in Mesomia would stop with a word from you. Any who opposed you would fall, and though you would ache to your core, you would forget. Time would soften the edges.”
“You…” I swallowed. My mouth was too dry to speak. The words stuck in my throat and I looked up at Kondo-Kana, framed by the night sky. Things should’ve changed. She should’ve been someone else, and she was: hundreds of years had passed and it wasn’t me hearing the story that had caused her to change. She was not that person, but she was. All I knew was that I wasn’t afraid. All I knew was that I understood, and I wished I could’ve gathered so much as the desire to hurt Katja as she’d hurt me. “You said that we forget, but we don’t forget. That these things find a way to cling to us.”
“I did,” she said. The way she spoke made me certain a hundred years had drifted by since last we’d met. “There were sleepless nights. I cried. Sobbed. Hated myself and wished to trade every ounce of my power to travel back, that I might change my mind. I cursed Isjin, claimed that she was no god of mine. But it faded, as I knew it would. Now, it is only a fact of my life. I understand how deeply I once regretted it, but if someone were to hurt Nasrin…”
“You’d do it again?”
“The world would tremble.”
“If someone hurt Claire, I…” I began in a murmur. “I can’t pretend I’d know what I’d do. I thought she was dead once already, but if I lost her again, if I saw it, I’d…”
It was all there in my mind: another siege from Rylan. Fire falling from the sky. Claire’s already scarred skin turning black with burns, flesh disappearing in chunks, bone showing through—
“See?” Kondo-Kana asked, kissing the top of my head. “You cannot say it. You would remain yourself and your Queen would want you to.”
“And Queen Nasrin wouldn’t want you to still be you?”
“I do not change, little lamb. Nasrin knows what I am, and what I have done. A moment of peace does not change that. A lifetime of quiet will not, either.”
