Authors: Kate Sparkes
The scowl didn’t leave Wardrel’s face as Dan helped me to my feet and quickly passed me into the waiting arms of a soldier.
I drew in a long, shaky breath and cradled my injured hand against my stomach.
“I still don’t trust her,” Wardrel said.
Dan studied my face. “No? We’ll see what happens. You two may meet again.”
Wardrel rammed the poker back into the coals. “I look forward to it.”
Dan escorted me and the soldier down the hall, around a dizzying number of corners, and into a small room containing a simple wardrobe, a washbasin, a table and chair, and a narrow bed with white blankets. The soldier set me down on the bed.
“I’ll have someone come in now to speak to you about starting work as soon as you’ve recovered,” Dan said, and left.
The soldier stood watch by the door. I didn’t bother speaking to him. A while later a beautiful young woman with hair the rich gold of honey stepped into the room carrying an array of bottles in her apron skirt. She dismissed the soldier and pulled up the chair beside the bed.
“My name is Sara,” she said, and her voice was as honey-like as her hair, sweet and smooth. I didn’t react to the name, or show I’d heard of her. She brushed my hair back from my face, and her hand was cool and comforting. “Look what they’ve done to you, poor thing. Let me see to that. We’ll talk about your skills tomorrow, after you’ve rested.”
She applied a sweet-smelling ointment to the burn on my face. She pulled hard on my finger to set the bone, and a few more tears squeezed out of my eyes.
“Sorry. Had to be done.”
“I know.” I immediately wanted to like Sara for her competent efficiency, but remembered Aren’s warning.
She applied another potion to the finger, this one a liquid that seemed to flow right through my skin and into the bone, burning as it went. “That’ll be uncomfortable, but it will make things heal better and faster.”
“Fyreflower?” I searched my mind for the correct ingredients, and found that it distanced me from the pain and panic. “Wortroot?”
She smiled. “And a hint of toad’s skin for added potency, plus a few more exotic items. You’re good at that.”
I forced a smile. “I have some experience.”
She pulled my eyelids back and frowned. “So red. Crying, or strain?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “That won’t cause permanent damage either way, but I can give you something to clear it up.” I nodded, and she placed drops of a cool substance in my eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened. I would have remembered your name, but I was with our king and couldn’t be excused. My assistant was left to sort through months-old paperwork.”
“Do they torture everyone who comes in?”
She smiled sadly. “Torture? That was just Wardrel getting warmed up. I suggest staying out of his way. Out of all of their ways, if you want to stay in one piece. Sleep now.”
My eyelids grew heavy as if on command, and I struggled against fog that crowded my thoughts. “Is it safe to?”
She smoothed my hair again. “It is. I’ll have my personal guard posted outside your door, and no one will trouble you. Rest, please. If you’re as talented as you claim, we’ll find a good place for you. All of this will be a nasty memory soon enough.”
The door’s lock clicked shut behind her. I was a prisoner, even if it seemed I’d be well cared for.
At least I’m in,
I thought, and drifted to sleep before I had a chance to do more than wonder why, exactly, sleep was coming so easily.
33
ROWAN
T
he camp was only truly silent in the smallest hours of the morning. After the arrival of the Belleisle folk, more had come from Wildwood. People had been up well into the night, talking or planning or setting up tents. It took hours for the night’s depths to subdue the last of us, for the gentle stars to drain the excitement and nerves, and for the chill of the air to send everyone retreating to their beds.
Yet even with the silence, even with the warmth of a heavy blanket and the comfort of knowing how many competent people surrounded me, I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts refused to settle, and instead of resting they chased their own tails through my mind, repeating the same questions and worries until I thought I’d go mad.
My family was safe. Things were settled with Aren, if not as I’d have wished, and I was learning to let go. My magic was coming along. But every step in getting those concerns settled was a step closer to the precipice of the future. Toward battle, perhaps. Certainly toward danger, and all of it shrouded in the fog of secrecy. No one seemed to know what the plan was, except to settle in and protect ourselves until Nox’s return or a breakthrough on Ulric’s part.
I punched the sweater I was using as a pillow, attempting to soften it and knowing it wouldn’t help me rest. After a few more minutes of blinking up into the darkness, I threw off the blankets, slipped into the sweater, laced my boots up to my knees, and stepped out into the night.
With all of the lights in camp doused, the stars overhead were fully visible, spilling across the sky so thick and bright that they looked like grains of sand on a beach. I imagined they were diamonds, and smiled at the thought of Ruby flying up to catch them to feed to her next clutch of dragonlings.
But there won’t be a next,
I remembered.
She wants to end it.
I couldn’t be sad about not having more dragonlings to contend with, but I also knew the world would lose something with Ruby’s death, however she chose to go. A wealth of knowledge, centuries of experience, a different way of thinking and seeing the world.
I walked toward the paddock, a rough enclosure of cut wooden boards and tree branches that held the camp’s horses. We had a good number now. Not enough for everyone to ride into battle if it came to that, but a good-sized herd. The challenge in the coming days would be feeding them. Victoria was already growing vegetables to feed the people, but the horses needed more. Taking them out to forage had already become a massive job for a few of Xaven’s people, and would only become more challenging if Ulric ordered us to stay within Ernis Albion’s defenses once they were finished.
I found Florizel beside the paddock, as I’d expected. She enjoyed the company of horses, even though they couldn’t speak to her, but disliked the business of large groups of humans. She watched over the mostly-sleeping animals now, seeming to draw in their calm and peace. I admired the starlight on her pale wings, which seemed to glow in the darkness.
She looked up as I came nearer.
“Is all well?” she asked.
“As good as it can be,” I said. “I can’t sleep, though.”
She glanced up at the sky. “Morning will be here soon.” She looked back at the horses. “I do miss that. Sleeping peacefully, knowing a leadmare was watching over me. I feel I must always be alert now, waiting for sunrise.”
We stood together for a while, and waited. The stars began to fade, and the chill of the early morning crept into my muscles. “Care for a walk?” I asked.
She fell in beside me, and we moved away from the crowd of tents. Florizel leaned in close, and her breath tickled my ear. “Are our walls up yet?”
“Not quite.”
She looked away and snorted. “The illusions are, though. I had to find the camp by memory. Couldn’t see a thing from above.”
“That’s good.”
Griselda and Maks, one of the Sorcerers from Belleisle, were in charge of that. We’d have Albion’s defenses up soon enough—a wall of magic that would shock and hold off anyone who tried to enter the area with ill-intent while letting our own people pass through unharmed. But until he was able to build that up and solidify it, Griselda had proposed a cloak of illusion to make the camp look like just another part of the forest. Setting up something so enormous had exhausted her, and maintaining it seemed to be causing some strain for both her and Maks, but watching her work had been an incredible experience for me. It made me realize what I might be capable of once I was fully in control of my power.
The illusion wouldn’t keep anyone out, but we hoped it would at least throw off scouts when Severn sent them out.
“This should be it,” I said as we approached the spot where I’d stood as Griselda wove her half of the dome-shaped illusion. It was invisible from within camp, leaving us with a clear view of the forest beyond—a fact which had only added to the challenge for Griselda, who had never before attempted such a thing. The only people permitted to step beyond were our sentries and watch-keepers, and anyone taking the horses out. Still, I stepped as close to the invisible barrier as I dared, and motioned for Florizel to stay back. Though sunrise was still a ways off, the sky had brightened while we walked, revealing the hulking shapes of the forest against a purple sky.
I looked up at the massive elm that marked this border of the illusion. The lookout posted up in the branches wouldn’t be able to see me, but I felt safer knowing there was someone up there.
The tree was empty.
I glanced down and bit back a gasp at the sight of a crumpled body lying at the tree’s roots, cloaked in dark clothing and only visible when I knew to look. I scanned the forest, but saw nothing.
And then I did.
Silent as a shadow, he approached. Bow at the ready, sword on his hip, dressed all in black and nearly invisible in the dark forest. He crept toward me, cat-like in the elegance of his movements. Another shadow moved behind him, deeper in the trees.
I slowed my breath, but didn’t dare move. He hadn’t seen me behind the illusion, but he would surely hear me. He stepped closer, until we stood almost nose-to-nose. He paused, perhaps sensing the faint magic of the illusion, or feeling a slight sting as he neared the still-weak defensive wall.
He held up a hand and made a soft clicking sound. The person following him stopped.
My body felt frozen, but I forced myself to step back slowly. I turned my head to see Florizel standing motionless save for the twitching of her ears and the swish of her tail. I held a finger to my lips and hoped the gesture made sense to a horse. She nodded.
I turned and walked away as quietly as I could, but the dead leaves on the forest floor rustled under my feet.
“They’re here,” whispered a voice behind me.
I ran, and Florizel followed. “Fly for help!” I ordered. “Tell Ulric and Albion. Wake everyone!”
Someone cried out behind me. It seemed Albion’s defenses were making themselves known, but a little shock wouldn’t hold anyone back for long.
I slapped the sides of tents as I passed, hollering for people to wake. We’d been found out, and there was no point trying to hide. Sleepy faces registered shock as people sat up and shook off their slumber, but I had no time to stay and explain the situation. I abandoned that task as the noise started waking everyone up without my help, and focused on getting to Aren.
He was already gone when I reached his tent, and nowhere to be found. I headed back to my own tent and collected the short blade that was all I could realistically handle. My arrows would be useless in the dark, and enemies wouldn’t be the ones carrying torches. Still, I grabbed the bow and arrows and slung the lot over my shoulder as I tucked the blade into my boot. I reached within myself to feel for my other weapon—one that hadn’t come to mind until after I’d picked up the physical ones. The magic burned strong and bright, but my heart thundered at the thought of releasing it.
Too bad
, I told myself, and ran back toward the outer edges of camp. My hands trembled, and I gripped the bow tighter.
I’d been in fights before, but never in a large group. Never a battle, or so much as a skirmish. I tried not to think about that, only to remember the training I’d had in archery and what Ulric had taught me about defending myself when we were imprisoned.
The sky had lightened enough to outline the bodies that moved around me, crowding and pushing. I didn’t see Florizel anywhere, but spotted Aren. Ulric held him back and said something. Aren nodded, but seemed displeased. When he turned and saw me, he hurried over.
“Stay back,” he said.
“I can fight.”
His brow furrowed, shadowing his eyes. “I know. Try to stay toward the center of camp, though. They’re coming from all sides.” His frown deepened. “Ulric doesn’t want us to lose more powerful magic than we need to, and that includes you. Be careful.”
And then he was gone, lost in the crowd.
I climbed onto the tall stump of a tree that stood next to the cook tent and tried to get my bearings. With so many unfamiliar people around I couldn’t tell who was friend and who was foe, and wondered how the others were managing it.
Small skirmishes had broken out all around as the intruders entered camp and met our resistance. To my left, a pair of men in black clothing raced into camp. A Sorceress from Belleisle ran at them, hands empty of weapons. Her slight form hardly seemed threatening, though the determination with which she moved would have given anyone pause. Mid-stride she transformed, human form disappearing, replaced in an instant by the hulking form of a massive blondish-brown bear. She landed on all four fearsomely clawed feet and kept running, letting out a roar that shook the forest. The two men skidded to a stop, but only one escaped the deadly swipe of her paw.
The forest filled with shouts and the sounds of weapons clashing. Still, this was no army that had attacked us.
Not a battle,
I realized.
A test.
Severn wanted to see what our defenses were, what magic we had at our disposal and how many fighters.
A mighty gust of wind ripped through the camp, toppling me from my perch. I landed hard on my left elbow as I twisted to protect my weapons, and cried out at the sharp, tingling pain. As soon as it eased, I climbed back up. The wind had died as quickly as it came.
I looked beyond the fighting and spotted a lone figure in black perched half-way up a tree, watching. The others Severn had sent were falling before the weapons and magic of our people, but he seemed unconcerned, and not at all interested in joining the fight. He had another job, I suspected. And if he were allowed to complete it, we’d all be in trouble.