Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 39
“So do you. So does Akela, Claire...”
There was something almost dismissive in the way Kouris spoke. They must've met like this countless times, must've had a dozen conversations no one else would ever know of, for not so much as a single word of Kouris' to come out as anything but a plea for Kidira to stay.
“They weren't there. They were barely even born. I was there. You were there. Jonas and Atthis were there, but now only two of us remain,” Kidira hissed.
I wanted to walk away, but I was terrified the sound of my retreating footsteps would catch on Kouris' ears.
“Have a little more faith in 'em. They're gonna figure this out. You don't need me for that. You haven't needed me all these years. And I've got to go up to the mountains. I've got to make the pane do something. Anything.”
There was a pause, long and stagnant. I heard Kouris' clawed toes scrape across the floorboards, followed by a flurry of smaller footsteps.
“Heh. Y'know, I spent a long time thinking you'd sooner kill me than stand in the same room as me again. And yet...”
“I did kill you. I sent you away and they took your head,” Kidira said curtly. It put an end to anything else Kouris had to say. “Then you went to Canth not once but twice, and now you leave us again.”
“You met Reis yet? Thirty years I spent with 'em. Thirty years I should've spent with you. They were basically raised on stories of you, Kidira, but I can't wait around here on the off-chance that one day, you'll decide you can stand to be in a room with me in anything but secret. And it's not that I don't deserve it. Reckon I deserve a lot worse. I left you. I chose to stay away. But this is something I have to do, and I wouldn't do it if I didn't believe you could get through a war without me.”
“This is not about me. It is about Felheim and what remains of Kastelir. It is about ensuring that—”
“Kidira. It's alright for things to be about you, once in a while,” Kouris said in a soft rumble of a growl. “You had to deal with me being gone for all that time. You lost Kastelir. You lost Akela. You lost your daughter. Jonas and Atthis, too. You lost me. Again. But you kept on fighting. You didn't slow down once, and I reckon you didn't take a moment for yourself. So breathe. Stop thinking about the bigger picture.”
A pause. Things were drawing to a close. I had to move, and fast.
“… You sound like Akela. She says much the same.”
“Maybe you’ve got a type.”
There was movement within. A restless rush of fabric. I wondered if they’d so much as looked at each other, or found time to blink amidst the intensity which with they stared. There was no in between.
“Fine. Go. I have always found that my head is clearer when I believe you to be dead. Perhaps knowledge of your absence will have the same effect.”
If Kouris replied, I didn’t hear it. Finally willing myself to move, I darted down the carpeted corridor on bare feet and turned the corner in time for Kouris’ chamber door to swing fully open. I skidded to a stop, waited for a few seconds, and made my way back to Kouris’ chamber with my hands in my pockets. Kidira, heading in the other direction, caught my eye. I wondered if she’d ever shed a tear in her life.
I knocked on Kouris’ now-closed door. Inside, she wasn’t frantically shoving her belongings into a bag, as I’d expected her to. She sat in an armchair that barely contained her, fingers threaded together.
Reis was nowhere to be seen.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. Other than the impending army, anyway,” Kouris said, patting a hand against her knee. “C’mere. Missed you.”
I slid into her lap, rested my head against her collarbone, and forced back the urge to ask her why she was leaving. I didn’t know she was going because I hadn’t listened in on a conversation that wasn’t meant for my ears, and so I could say nothing of it.
“Not as much as Reis missed you,” I said. “I think they came all the way across the Wide Waters just to see you.”
“Nah. Reckon they wanted a break, too.”
And although Reis must’ve told her everything about my arrival and the journey back, Kouris listened patiently to my rendition of the tale. There was something different in telling her, compared to Claire; she knew the places I spoke of and had met the people I called friends. It was in no way better, and I took the time to appreciate the things each version of my journey brought.
“There’s something I should tell you,” I said, once I was done and Kouris had no more questions about the trouble Tizo was getting Tae into. “It’s, um. I moved. Into Claire’s chambers with her.”
Kouris’ ears twitched, uncertain if they wanted to fall or rise.
“That’s okay, isn’t it? I didn’t ask you before, but if I should’ve, that’s okay. I can talk to Claire!” I blurted out. “It’s not that I wasn’t thinking of you, or that I’d forgotten everything about Canth, because we—”
Kouris mercifully cut me off with a laugh that resolved itself as a kiss. I wrapped my arms around her neck and blinked up at her, confused and happy.
“Yrval. No need to be rambling on like that,” Kouris said, pressing her nose to my cheek. “Always knew you were gonna be shacking up like that. As far as I can tell, it’s not gonna make any difference to you and me, or me and Claire. No reason you can’t still be having sleepovers here, is it?”
“It’s just…!” I didn’t know what it was, beyond belated, misplaced guilt. “You and me. Claire and me. It’s different, but it’s the same, so…”
“It’s always different,” Kouris said, nose moving to my neck. “It’s always gonna be different every time you love someone, but that doesn’t mean it’s worth any less. We’re still living in the same castle, yrval. As far as I’m concerned, the only difference between you being in your own chamber and in Claire’s is that the pair of you are gonna be as happy as you deserve to be. Besides, I might not be the best at this whole domestic thing. Claire’s stepping in so I don’t disappoint you.”
I wanted to frown at how easy she made it sound, but she was kissing my neck and I couldn’t keep still in her lap.
“I love you. I love Claire. That’s just how it is,” I decided, gripping her horns. I sunk against her chest, felt her claws run through my hair, and did what I could to forget the rest of the world. I didn’t succeed. Unable to shake the shadow of a bad feeling, I muttered, “And we’re going to war, aren’t we?”
“Looks that way,” she replied.
“And we don’t have enough soldiers, do we?”
And Kouris, who had fought impossible battles and forged a Kingdom out of warring clans, could think of nothing more to say than, “Looks that way,” once again as we held each other tight.
CHAPTER XXI
As Varn and Atalanta were the only guards Queen Nasrin had cared to bring with her, their duties were long and tedious. Kondo-Kana was on bedrest, as per Queen Nasrin’s orders, leaving Reis as the only free Canthian. They were sincere when they claimed they were in Felheim for nothing beyond a break; they didn’t engage in talks of war and strategy, and left the others to hunch over a table and point at maps, scowling.
That was as much of the situation as I understood, anyway.
I wasn’t made for war and plotting, and couldn’t suggest how best to lead an army. One thing I could do was show my friend around Thule.
Reis had changed. They’d found something suitably Felheimish with Kouris’ help, and no longer looked entirely out of place with their loose shorts and thin, open vest. They’d been given breeches, a foreign concept to them, and they kept tugging on the collar and cuffs of their long-sleeved shirt. The pistol at their hip spoke of far-off shores, stopping anyone from mistaking them for a natural part of the castle and they liked it that way.
As fluent as they were in Mesomium, they made a point of speaking Canthian as we made our way through the castle, open streets fixed firmly in our minds.
“Weird to think that the people responsible for me are probably still around here. Heard they did their time and went back to their jobs, or something,” Reis said, casting a suspicious eye in all directions. “I coulda been here, if not for my parents having an ounce of common sense between ‘em. Can you bloody imagine it? Liege Reis, going to balls and reading dusty books and doing… whatever the nobles waste their time on.”
Reis was a pirate. In my mind, they’d been born for it. Starting life in Thule’s castle had been an unfortunate miscalculation that was soon set right.
“My birth parents could be right here. That could be ‘em,” Reis said, gesturing from one group of people to the next. “Or those two. Or them. Or them.”
“Now you’re just pointing at random white people,” I said.
Chuckling, Reis made their way out of the courtyard at a slow, comfortable pace. I’d promised to show them Thule, despite being barely qualified myself. I hadn’t spent much more than a few scattered days down in the city, and had yet to determine where the best places to eat were and which market squares should be avoided at all costs.
We were close to the castle gates when we were interrupted, and far from rudely.
“Good morning, Rowan! Captain Jones!” Eden said brightly. She was dressed for the impending autumn in a neat, light jacket, and had her hair arranged in a way that appeared dishevelled, but had likely taken a maid at least half an hour to style. “I heard from Kouris that there was to be a tour around the city. Would you mind if I joined you? I know an excellent tavern that’ll give you the most splendid lamb steak you’ve ever tasted, should you be able to best the barkeeper at an arm wrestle.”
“What’s a lady of the court know about arm wrestling and city taverns?” Reis asked, comfortably switching back to Mesomium. “Not that I’m objecting to the company, mind.”
“I was many things before I was a lady of the court, Captain,” Eden said with a smirk. “And a renowned arm-wrestler is but one of them.”
Reis tipped their head in acknowledgement, and Eden offered her arm for Reis to take. It wasn’t common practice in Mahon, but they picked up the custom quickly enough, and walked with Eden on one arm and their cane in the other hand.
We spoke about much of nothing and it was honestly a relief. The three of us talked about what was in front of us, from freshly painted signs being hung over recently renamed taverns, to groups of pane hesitantly moving in pairs through the streets. Eden gave us a thorough tour, pointing out tiny cafés hidden down narrow side streets and small, boxy establishments that became music halls and theatres, once the sun set.
We took lunch in a tavern at Eden’s recommendation. It was hardly the sort of establishment that Lady Hawthorne should be in, but to Reis, it was positively extravagant. It was already crowded, but we wound our way around the regulars and found a booth in the back corner. The table was only a little sticky.
I sat next to Reis and Eden settled opposite us.
“You have ale on this continent, aye?” Reis asked, eyeing the bar.
“We do indeed,” Eden said. “But if you intend to buy beverages for more than yourself, I’m afraid I do not drink.”
“Water, then?”
“That would be wonderful.”
“I’ll have the same,” I said as Reis planted a hand on the table to push theirself to their feet.
“You too?” they asked, glancing back like I’d betrayed them. “What’s got into you?”
“It’s, uh,” I began, scratching the back of my neck. “It’s Claire. She… I think it’s better if I don’t drink, because…”
I shrugged as I trailed off.
Slumping back into their seat, Reis said, “Oh, that’s how it is, aye?” and rolled their eyes.
Eden and I sat in uncomfortable silence. The anticipation of Reis’ judgement made me feel that it wasn’t something I should’ve shared with them, but they only huffed a breath and rubbed their chin.
“Aye, seen that problem plenty. Had it myself, in fact,” they said, and when Eden and I gave them the exact same look, said, “Not bloody like that. Bitterwillow was my vice. One day you’re chewing it ‘cause your bone’s splintered and stuck in the roof of a pirate ship and there ain’t a healer for hundreds of miles around, and the next you feel shitty if you don’t keep eating and eating it. Anyway. Aye. Water it is.”
Relieved, Eden and I set about picking out lunch while Reis leant against the bar, unaccustomed to being made to wait. When they returned with a trio of rather unexciting drinks, they informed us that they’d already told the barkeeper to cook us up whatever was going, and leapt back into our previous conversation.
“When’s she hacking that leg off, anyway?” they asked, taking a disappointed sip of their water. “It’s fucking mangled. Only saw it for a few minutes and I can tell that.”
“You can’t just go around telling people to cut their legs off!” I said.
“Aye, I can. It’s one of the benefits of only having one of my own bloody legs.”
“What are the other benefits?” Eden asked, both horrified and amused by the conversation.
“I get to take my bloody time. And this thing—” Pausing, they reached under the table to rap a fist against the wood beneath their breeches. “Looks more interesting than anyone else’s leg. I can switch ‘em over whenever I feel like it.”
“Really? Do you make them yourself?”
“Aye. Been working on ‘em for years now.”
“I admit I only caught a mere glimpse of the carving, but it was undoubtedly impressive. I had no idea you were a pirate and an artist!”
“Take a better look if you like. Didn’t make ‘em to be hidden beneath these damn things,” Reis grunted, tugging the fabric up towards their knee.
“Look, never mind that. Do you really think Claire should… that she’d be better without it?” I asked, interrupting them.
“You tell me. You’re the necromancer,” Reis said blithely, not thinking to lower their voice in a Felheimish tavern. I glanced skittishly over my shoulder, but if anyone had overheard us, they hadn’t caught enough of the conversation to be concerned. “How’s it feel to you? Good? Feel like it should be there?”
I sunk into my seat, hands wrapped around my glass. There was no point denying that I’d often mulled over how much better Claire would feel without it, but that was only considering the physical aspect of it. She had already lost enough; I couldn’t ask her to sacrifice more pieces of herself. She couldn’t look in the mirror as it was.
“Maybe you should talk to her,” I mumbled. “Might be better coming from you.”
Conversation died down until food arrived, prompting us to change the subject. I took in the sounds of the tavern, the glasses coming down against tables, chairs scraping, conversations going through spurts of droning and jeering, along with the bell above the door ringing every time someone came in.
We chatted easily as we ate, as though Eden had been in Canth with us, and having her there made me feel oddly proud of my friendship with Reis. In Mahon, I had been the latest person to know them, one in a line of hundreds, but Eden knew nothing about Reis. She had no assumptions and hadn’t heard any rumours; she learnt about them as we tucked into grilled chicken, and plenty of Reis’ stories managed to involve me.
Yet there was something troubling me. Something I couldn’t quite get my head around.
“What you were saying earlier, about how your birth parents were—” I started, only to be cut off by a great thud from the other end of the tavern.
A pane had walked in and one of the patrons had accidentally bumped shoulders with them and accidentally knocked them into a wall. I watched as the pane rubbed the back of his head, doing his best to smile through a wince. He wanted the staring humans to believe that he thought it had been unintentional, so as not to cause any more problems.
“It’s a joke,” someone whined. “Not even a week since they made us take that sign down and that’s the third one already.”
“I’m, um,” the pane began, dull, golden eyes darting from one accusing face to the next. “I only wanted a drink. I’m sorry, I…”
“Things were fine how they were!” a woman called out.
The pane took a step forward, but someone blocked the doorframe. He stuttered out an apology, but the crowd drew closer.
“Leave ‘em alone,” Reis called out, without bothering to stand.
Someone nearby asked what kind of accent they had, albeit not as politely, and the pane continued to apologise for what wasn’t their fault.
“I heard… I heard Queen Claire permitted this, but if you’d like me to leave, I—”
“Fuck the Queen! Her family uses their dragons to burn us, and all she gives a toss about is letting them roam in packs,” the same woman from before said. She was met with a general murmur of agreement. “Don’t trust her a damn bit more than I trusted her old man, and at least he had the decency to put ‘em to work.”
Reis, used to all sorts of aggression and loose tongues, darkened with anger. Their green eyes narrowed and I understood why. In Canth, the dragon-born were almost as revered as necromancers. Nothing Kouris had told them about Felheim had prepared them for how the pane would truly be treated.
With lunch forgotten, they got to their feet and used their cane to push through the crowd.
“Now,” they said, standing between what was dangerously close to becoming a mob and the pane. “Reckon we can solve this civilly. You lot, go sit down. All this lad wants is something to drink. Maybe some meat. Ain’t that right?”
“I—y-yes,” the pane stuttered.
“Bullshit. We got the right to be surrounded by our own kind,” the woman said. At a guess, she was a baker or a butcher. She was far from the pirates Reis was used to shepherding or subduing. Not that it mattered. Had she been a pirate, she would’ve recognised Reis and known better than to talk back. “Either they get out, or we show ‘em the door.”
Sighing, Reis pulled their gun from their hip. The pulsating crowd watched with more confusion than interest, having never seen anything of the sort before. Eden, similarly clueless, decided it couldn't be anything good. She gripped my wrist and I took her hand, though there was little I could do to reassure her.
