Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 66
Varn concluded the conversation in her usual way. She wandered off without a goodbye, leaving me to head back to mine and Claire's chamber. I supposed I'd better prepare for the evening. There had been plenty of feasts to attend since the castle had come back under our control. Some of them hadn't been entirely awful, but I knew that tonight was different, and not purely because it was the start of the Winter's End festival.
Claire knew that cancelling feasts and balls and plays would do nothing for the people's morale, and had gone to great lengths to ensure that Winter's End wasn't simply an excuse for the wealthy and landed to do nothing all month. Everything had been designed with helping those in need in mind. Tenfold the food we would be eating was donated to those who had fled Kastelir, and all those lucky enough to attend had earnt their place by donating gold and supplies to those Rylan's campaign had hurt the most.
On my way back to my chambers, three separate willowy, self-important people asked if I required help preparing for the evening. Their implication was that I did. Ever since Claire had made it abundantly clear to all of the castle staff that I was not some passing whim, some of the more stiff-lipped members had made it their personal mission to see me recreated.
If she was only a farmer, it'd be a different matter, I heard them lament, as though they'd been so accepting of me before knowing I was a necromancer. Plenty of people had resigned from their position over the matter but there were plenty more eager for work spread throughout Felheim. Some of the newer staff would grin my way and tell me they'd heard all about what I'd done to drive out the Agadian army.
It was the veteran members of the castle, those who'd served Claire's parents, who pestered me in the name of propriety.
I didn't bother poking my head in when I reached my chamber doors. Claire wouldn't be there. She was as busy as a Queen was wont to be, and festival preparations took up more of her time than planning a war had. I spun on my heels, headed straight for Eden's chamber, and was surprised to find her alone.
“Rowan! Good afternoon. Excited for tonight?” Eden asked from her dresser, where she was rummaging through a jewellery box. In the far corner of the room, a selection of dresses I'd never seen before were hung over a screen.
“It's just dinner, right?” I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“Dinner with the most important people in the Kingdom,” Eden returned. “But do try not to fret. Remember, Rowan: you count amongst them, now.”
“Doesn't feel like it,” I said, perching on the arm of a chair.
“Well, of course it doesn’t. Your life has taken you a great number of places in a short span of time. You remember what I said about my past, don't you? The courtiers were not eager to accept me at first, not even when Claire and I were officially together. Now they act as though my blood is as established as any baron's. Give them time, Rowan. One day they will find it novel that you have not always lived in the castle. Now,” Eden said, and held up two near-identical pairs of earrings. “Gold or silver?”
“Silver,” I said. “And I know I have to give it time, but... I don't know. Maybe they're right! About some things, anyway.”
“Which things might they be?” Eden asked, laying the earrings I'd chosen next to the box.
“I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know which nobles outrank which, who to call what, which fork to use at dinner...”
“Neither did I, when I arrived. It won't happen overnight, Rowan.”
“Michael's already got the hang of it,” I grumbled. “And he's only been here a month. And then there's my dad. Atthis has already taught him everything!”
“Your brother has read too many novels. He goes too far,” Eden said. I caught her grin in the mirror. “It doesn't matter if you use the wrong fork, Rowan. You're seated next to the Queen. Snooty nobles can say what they want. They won't be able to take that away from you.”
I held out my hands, not certain what point I was trying to make.
“But...”
“You do like living here, don't you?” Eden asked, turning in her seat. “It is your home after all, Rowan. I'd hate to think there'd been something wrong and I hadn't noticed.”
“No, no,” I said, waving my hands in front of myself. “It's just a lot to get used to. It's these events, with all these people. I... felt better in taverns, surrounded by pirates who'd knock me out if I looked at them the wrong way. I don't want to be anywhere Claire isn't. And Kouris is here! Akela, my dad, my brother, Sen, Halla, you. Even Kidira. I guess I expected to feel completely okay once everything was over. But every day I just feel more and more out of place.”
I shrugged.
“You're not a prisoner here, Rowan. You're allowed to visit Canth whenever you please,” Eden said. Her mouth twitched at the corners and after a pause, she said, “In fact, I was considering visiting myself.”
She didn't hold my gaze for long. She turned back to the mirror, but couldn't hide the way her eyes dropped over a sheepish smile.
“Me and Varn were talking about that. A few months here, a month there. It might work,” I said, nodding to myself. Eden picked up a brush and started idly running it through her hair. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and said, “I'm nervous. I think that's all it is. Everyone else knows what they're doing or can at least pretend, and I just feel...”
I ran a hand through my unruly hair, tugging at it.
“Maybe I should make some effort. Look the part. I've got more clothes than I know what to do with, but...”
“Ah!” Eden said, hopping to her feet with a delighted grin. “Now that is something we can deal with immediately.”
Eden ushered me into a chair, wrapped my shoulders in a clean towel and asked that I trust her. She fetched a bowl of warm water and a pair of scissors, and I swung my feet as she got to work.
“I used to always cut my own hair,” Eden said, combing my hair through. “I never did trust my fathers.”
“Reis cut my hair, once. They said it was getting too heavy and was making them hot to look at,” I said. “They were drunk but it almost didn't look bad.”
Eden laughed. I closed my eyes, certain that if she could get used to this life, I could too. After an hour of tugging and combing and snipping at my hair, Eden brushed the back of my neck with a towel and sent me on my way to wash and get ready. I hurried back to my chambers, abruptly aware that I'd wasted too much time, but couldn't stop running my hands through my short, neat hair.
I rinsed myself off, changed into one of the brand new suits the castle tailors had plied me with, hoping to win Claire's favour. The breeches were simple and the shirt was forest green with silver stitching, and as I buttoned up the high collar, a maid popped in and cleared her throat to let me know I was running late.
I slipped into the banquet hall that no longer bore any resemblance to the base of operations it had once been and told myself that being late would do no more damage to my reputation than being publicly known as a necromancer had.
Long tables laden with mountains of food were laid out across the hall, filling it with so much noise, so many smells, that I didn't know which way to look. The people were dressed in their finery and there was no quiet corner of the room to be found.
The Queen's table was at the centre of the hall and she sat in an ornate chair with an arched back. Haru-Taiki perched behind her, happily accepting food from passing servants. There was an empty seat next to Claire, between her and Kouris. Reis sat next to Kouris, wearing a dress made from the reddest fabric Felheim had to offer.
Alex had taken his place on Claire's other side, and my brother, father and Atthis sat down from him. The Canthians sat opposite, Queen Nasrin dressed exactly as anyone would expect the Queen of Canth to, while Kondo-Kana had gone to no unusual lengths with her outfit. Atalanta was wearing a dress that put everyone else in the hall to shame and Varn hadn't buttoned up her shirt as neatly as Atalanta would've liked. Eden had found a place opposite Reis, and Kidira and Akela sat next to her, with Halla between them. Sen, Goblin, Laus and Ash were the only other people I recognised at the table. The rest had donated a ridiculous amount to have the honour of sitting at the Queen's table.
I placed a hand on Claire's shoulder to let her know I was there, hoping to slip in as quietly as possible. Claire turned from the conversation she was caught in with someone further down the table, smiled up at me and stood. She did so with more effort than ever before, but with less pain, too. Through the fabric of her trousers, the shape of her leg spoke of something that fit; of something new, there to help her, rather than remind her of all she had lost and punish her for it.
“Hey,” I said, warming as she kissed my cheek. “Everything looks great.”
“It's only the first day of Winter's End, and the Queen's personal feast,” Michael sighed from down the table. “No need to be prompt, Rowan.”
I was glad my family were with me, but Michael was who he was.
“You’re here thanks to your sister’s generosity,” my father said. “Try to remember that.”
Michael muttered something about only wanting to do what was good and proper and went back to discussing something thoroughly uninteresting with someone across the table.
“You look wonderful,” Claire said. I realised her eyes had been fixed on me all along.
I ducked my head, rubbed my hair and said, “Eden did it for me.”
“Not bad, Yrval,” Kouris said, elbow propped on the arm of my chair as she grinned at me.
“Thanks,” I said, and tugged the front of her white, ruffled shirt. “I like this.”
Kouris bowed her head graciously and said, “Can’t take any credit. Akela’s idea.”
“If you are to be seen in public with me, you are having to look your best,” Akela said blithely.
Getting the gist of what was being said, and having picked up a handful of Mesomium throughout her stay, Varn sunk in her seat and said in none too formal Canthian, “So let me get this straight. Kouris was married to Kidira and then for whatever stupid reason, she ran away to Canth for a hundred years. Then Akela swoops in, hooks up with Kidira, and Kouris comes back. Kouris feels like shit, blah blah blah, and somehow, these two become best fucking friends?”
“Technically, we’re still married,” Kouris said, taking a thoughtful sip of her drink. “Maybe. Reckon getting a divorce would’ve meant Kidira would’ve had to talk to me. Then again, with Kastelir destroyed, the old laws and unions don’t have to mean much of anything. Could take it to mean that we’re not married anymore, aye.”
Reis passed a quick interpretation of what Varn and Kouris had said to Akela, and she spread her arms in a wide, cheerful shrug.
“If Kouris is my wife-in-law, I am being most honoured!”
Kouris almost spat her water everywhere. She said, “I don’t think it works like that,” but Akela was too taken with the idea to listen to a word anyone said.
She propped her chin on her hand and held Varn’s gaze, saying, “Is there anything else you are curious about, hm? Anything at all?”
“Oi. Tell Akela to stop making eyes at me,” Varn said to me. “Kidira’s right there, you know.”
I hadn’t noticed Akela doing anything of the sort but shrugged and said, “Varn’s worried about you and Kidira. Or she’s worried about Kidira.”
Akela placed a hand across her chest, wounded. Her voice raised in the way it always did, booming at the whim of something other than alcohol, for there was no wine or ale at any of the tables. She spoke passionate words Varn didn’t understand.
“Varn! You are wounding me, yes. You are suggesting that my heart, it is a cake. I am giving one slice to one person and then it is gone. Depleted! But it is no cake, it is—it is a stew! And this stew, it is endless. I am ladling and ladling and still, it is not running dry. There is plenty for whoever is wanting some.”
Kouris, Reis and I scrambled to translate Akela’s heartfelt words as faithfully as possible, but it ended in a mess of laughter and pointed looks from nobles further down the table. Claire watched with quiet amusement and Atalanta whispered something in Varn’s ear that turned her bright red. She scowled and slumped into her seat, trying to disappear under the table and never be heard from again.
“Do tell Varn that Akela is far too much of a handful for me to deal with on my own,” Kidira said. “She is doing me a favour. Honestly.”
Doing so earnt nothing but flustered spluttering from Varn and I said, “I told her, but she’s still scared of you.”
“Good,” Kidira said, popping a piece of meat into her mouth.
Dinner continued, light and cheerful, and music played from a balcony at the far end of the banquet hall. The room was full of chatter and cheer, enough to make the room feel more than full, but not enough to deafen us to the conversation around us. I took Eden’s advice and dug into my meal without caring which fork I used.
I chose the wrong one for every dish and the world didn’t end.
I kept a close eye on Halla but needn’t have bothered. Akela made sure she was ever a part of the conversation, and never let her feel out of place. It was easy for Halla to trust someone who hadn’t been able to live freely until she’d left Agados.
A woman who was supposedly a countess, whatever that meant, swapped seats with someone to speak with Claire. She leant close, as if intending to whisper, but spoke loudly enough for us to all hear her.
“Are those two here for protection?” she asked, gesturing in mine and Halla’s direction. “A novel way to intimidate usurpers?”
Halla didn’t need to see the woman pointing her way to know she was being spoken about. She sat straight in her seat and jabbed at the meat on her plate but missed, metal scraping against porcelain.
“We’re here for dinner,” I said, not bothering to swallow a mouthful of potatoes. “The dragon’s for scaring people off.”
“These are my guests. Do treat them as such,” Claire said, and the woman hid behind her glass when she could not force a laugh.
If this was to be the worst of it, it was as nothing. Even Halla wasn’t shaken for long. Kidira placed a steady hand on her shoulder and she was smiling again soon enough, leaning over to ask what it was that smelled so good.
“They forget me so,” Kondo-Kana said, slouching against the table.
“As you wish them to,” Queen Nasrin said, jabbing her in the arm with a thin fork I’d mistakenly used for my main course.
The banquet went on and on, and I drifted between one conversation and the next, certain nothing could pry the smile off my face. Not with two necromancers so close and Claire and Kouris next to me.
A young woman leant down the table and said, “Lady Kidira,” to catch her attention. Kidira looked over and the woman bowed her head politely and asked, “Is your daughter not joining us tonight? I had rather hoped to speak with her.”
Everyone’s conversations trailed off awkwardly at the mention of Katja. Kidira put her knife and fork down, pressed her hands together and said, “I’m afraid she was feeling rather under the weather,” leaving the woman bemused but not brave enough to inquire further.
It took a while for the conversation to pick back up. I busied myself with cutting up food I had no intention of eating, certain everyone’s eyes were on me. Claire placed a hand on my knee under the table. Forget speaking of her in history books: it had already started. Katja was the hero in the here and now, far more palatable than a necromancer. The castle was a prison to her, and I knew there was nowhere more secure for her than under Kidira’s watchful eye, but she lived there. She was in my home.
It wouldn’t be forever but that didn’t matter. I felt her through the walls every day.
Seeing his chance to be heard, an unfortunately rich merchant loudly opposed to taking in any more Kastelirians cleared his throat and said, “I see the Queen Mother is not in attendance, either. I heard she was feeling under the weather as well. Still, the pair of them are not missing terribly much.” He paused to frown at the juice in his glass. “I do wonder what manner of celebration this will be without any wine. What were the planners thinking when such decisions were made? A mere oversight, I expect.”
There was no point in Claire telling him that Aren had declined the invitation, and that she would not force her mother into the public sphere if she insisted on doing nothing but mourn both Rylan and her loss of power. That slight was quickly forgotten: it was the remark about wine that gripped everyone’s attention. Everyone knew why wine and ale weren’t being served and the man was no exception. Even Varn, who’d intended to drink herself blind, had the manners not to comment on the water she’d been given.
The man waited patiently for Claire’s reply but it was Reis who spoke up.
“Well, lucky for you, you’ve got the rest of the evening to find out,” they said. “As for me, I’m sat here wondering what a banquet without you yammering on would be like, but I ain’t never gonna find an answer to that, am I?”
Akela pressed her lips together tightly but Eden didn’t mask her amusement quite so well. A laugh slipped out and she cleared her throat to cover it, murmuring, “Oh, do excuse me.”
The man muttered something about mingling with pirates, and another person I didn’t recognise said, “I’m rather happy with it. Too often discussions during Winter’s End are marred by too much alcohol, leading people to discuss things that don’t matter and make promised they have no intention of keeping.”
Claire nodded in agreement, shot Reis a grateful look, and continued eating with all the grace expected of a Queen.
“Rowan?” another woman called from down the table, taking advantage of the sudden lull. I caught her eye and she tipped her head respectfully, clearly a little uncomfortable referring to me as nothing but Rowan. Plenty of people had tried to call me Lady Rowan, but I’d put a quick end to it. “As the royally appointed… Thaumaturgist, I was wondering if you had any plans you could share with us?”
She smiled encouragingly, perhaps only to bolster herself. Many people were trying to swallow the idea of having a necromancer in the castle, even if they couldn’t use the word, but I didn’t mind her clunky effort. She was trying. One step at a time.
