Dragonoak (41 page)

“What is
it?” she asked, doing what she could not to let curiosity get the
better of her.

“I went to Praxis. To the place where you kept your things,”
I explained, fingers hovering over the straps of the bag. “I know
they were
your
things and I shouldn't have gone through them, but I
thought... you know what I thought. I hadn't planned on going
there. That's not why I kept the key. Having something of yours, it
just... I'm sorry. Here.”

I pushed
the bag over to her, but she didn't take it. Not right away. She
brought a hand up to the collar of her shirt, fingers dipping
beneath the fabric, and fished out her necklace, phoenix wing
pendant swaying on the chain.

“I
understand,” she said, and I blinked hard, every memory of the
Phoenix Festival claiming me at once.

She let
the necklace rest over her shirt and carefully opened the bag,
taking the knife out first. She turned it in her hand, ran her
thumb over the carvings, and smiled at the memories it brought with
it. Placing it on the table, Claire smiled briefly up at me, and
eased the box out of the bag.

It
clipped against the table, and Claire placed her hands on her knees
as she stared down at the top of it. The corners of her mouth
twitched and she said, “A gift from Queen Aren. I take it you've
seen the contents. It once belonged to a noble family who claimed
the phoenix for their sigil. They fell on hard times and out of
memory some centuries ago, but this was amongst the possessions
used to repay their debts to the Royal Family.”

“Do you think they're real?” I asked, unable to contain
myself. “They
look
real. They're just like the pictures in the book.”

Claire
ran her fingertips across the edge of the box, laughing softly to
herself.

“I was
absolutely convinced, when I first received them—the day I was
knighted,” she said. “If I didn't have the slightest amount of
faith in their authenticity, I likely would've left them
behind.”

She
couldn't resist opening the box a fraction of an inch and peering
inside. From the way Claire's eyes fixed on the bones, I could tell
she had more faith in them than she let on, and I knew that I'd
done the right thing in bringing her possessions to her.

“The
rest of your things are at my house. We can pick them up once the
territories are back in order,” I said, and she met my gaze,
smiling.

“I never
did get to see inside, last time.”

Claire thumbed through the pages of
The Sky Beneath The Sun
, skimming
over passages and reacquainting herself with the images, and I told
her about the copy Atthis had bought for me, how I'd studied it
over and over again on the ship, fascinated by every diagram. Both
of us were surprised by the sound of the tower doors unlocking
below, and when Sen made her way up to the room, Claire's first
question was, “What time
is
it?”

“M-midnight, Marshal,” she said. “I thought you'd be done by
now. Shall I come back later...?”

“Don't.
I should probably be going! I didn't realise it was so late,” I
said, getting to my feet before she could argue. “Thanks for having
me over, Claire. And thanks for dinner, Sen. It tasted even better
than it looked.”

Sen
smiled bashfully and knelt down to pick up the plates. Claire
didn't rise to see me off and I understood why well enough, but I'd
gathered courage enough to duck down and kiss her on the cheek. She
didn't flinch. Her fingers brushed against my wrist, and she smiled
more than she realised she was, saying, “Should you ever care to
come over for dinner, I always eat at the same time, and Sen always
makes far too much. You won't have to give prior notice; there'll
be plenty here for you.”

I left
with the biggest grin on my face, in no rush to get back to the
cabin. I walked with my hands in my pockets, enjoying the warm,
still night air. I was far from the only one outside. Most of the
candles within cabins had been snuffed out, but the taverns were
still serving those who'd only just finished work, and soldiers
patrolled the streets. I smiled at those I passed and they nodded
politely, bidding me a goodnight.

Goblin
and Ghost's cabin was in sight when I walked into someone who
wasn't wearing mismatched-armour. I could've sworn he'd come to a
halt outside the cabin, but at the sight of me, he carried on down
the road. I stepped to the side as he approached but he stopped and
stared down at me.

I was in
too good of a mood to be intimidated.

“Can I
help you with something?” I asked.

“... you
Rowan?” he asked, curling his upper lip.

I
nodded, hands slipping into fists, but that was all he wanted. He
hummed, shoved his hands into his pockets, and kept on walking. I
stared at his back as I went, certain I didn't recognise him. Then
again, I'd met a lot of people today. He could've been someone from
the farm, or perhaps he'd been working at the stables when I was
there the day before.

Either
way, I put it out of my mind, tiptoed through the cabin, and
stepped back over a sleeping Akela.

Over the
next week, I had dinner with Claire three times. I didn't wish to
make a nuisance of myself by never giving her an evening free of
me, but I found it increasingly difficult to stay away when I knew
how close she was; when the alternative was eating alone in mine
and Akela's room, in order to avoid any run-ins with Ghost. Claire
and I didn't talk as much as we had that first night, but even when
we had nothing to say to one another, it was nice to be able to
spend time together. I moved from telling her about Canth to
talking about work down on the farm, though I couldn't help but
notice the way she never said anything of the past two
years.

I didn't
push her. I knew there was little good to speak of, and the
resistance's problems were ever at the forefront of her mind.
Still, I think she was glad of my company, for it meant getting to
focus on something other than Prince Rylan's next move or the
whispered Agadian threat for a short while.

Akela,
as she'd predicted, had managed to move up through the army's
ranks, and had convinced one of the smiths to craft an axe to her
exact specifications. I spent my days down on the farm, working
until my back ached pleasantly, muscles soon smoothing themselves
over. In the evenings, the first thing I did was check for word of
Kouris, aware that she couldn't be far off. I focused on her
imminent arrival, rather than Atthis and Katja's.

If Akela
was around, I made dinner with her, though increasingly often, she
was busy helping Sen out after her shifts. It wasn't until my ninth
day in Orinhal that the sense of safety I'd built up in the
beginnings of a routine was torn from me.

I headed
out at dawn, as I always did, and greeted the other farmers with a
sleepy wave. I was too busy stretching my arms above my head to pay
much heed to the lack of good mornings I received, but once I was
done scrubbing my eyes, I couldn't miss the way they were looking
at me.

They
were gathered close together, shoulder to shoulder, each one of
them fixing their eyes on me, waiting for someone braver to say the
words burnt into their minds and branded on their tongues. But they
didn't need to say anything. I'd seen this before; I'd been here
before. My village had gathered together in the very same way,
silently passing their judgement, passing a sentence I'd never get
the chance to defend myself again.

“What's
wrong?” I asked in spite of all I knew to be true, desperate to
believe I was wrong.

It
couldn't be happening again.

“We were
just thinking,” one of the men started, gripping a shovel between
his hands. “Maybe it'd be best if you weren't working here. Around
the food. Around children.”

It
couldn't, it couldn't.

The
small group nodded in agreement, hardly daring to blink.

“What?
Why?” I said, stepping forward.

The
crowd flinched, moving two steps back for the one I'd
taken.

“You are
Rowan Northwood, aren't you? From Felheim?” an elderly woman asked,
protectively clutching the shoulders of the boy I often shared my
lunch with.

“I am,
but...”

But
what? I wasn't the one they'd been warned about?

“We
don't want any trouble here,” the woman went on to say. “Go on.
It'd be best for everyone if you left the work to us.”

Again,
they nodded in unison, as though the same thoughts ran through all
of their minds. They weren't just angry; they were frightened.
Frightened of what they imagined I could do and what they didn't
yet know I was capable of, frightened of all that I'd surely
subjected them to in the time they'd spent around me. And how could
I argue my case without scaring them further; how could I explain
that I'd used my powers to kill, but only because I'd convinced
myself it was my only choice?

I backed
off.

I took
wide strides out of the farm, fighting not to sprint. Everything
behind me faded into nothing, torn from my hands the moment I had
it. Stolen from me, as everything eventually was. It was all I
could do to keep the light within me.

I marched back to the cabin, not crying – not giving them
that satisfaction, not like I had back in the village – and
shouldered my way through the front door. I didn't care if I ran
straight into Ghost; I
wanted
to confront him, to know why he'd done this. What
he'd said to who. There was noise coming from the kitchen and I
stomped into the room, hands still balled into fists.

Goblin
was sat at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, and I
walked right up to Ghost at the counter, before he could greet
me.

“Did you say something about me?” I asked, and Ghost stared
down at me, blinking. “Everyone at the farm
knows
, which means everyone in the
city's going to know soon, if they don't already.”

“Slow
down,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I didn't say
anything. Why would I?”

“Because... because you
clearly
hate me, you've made that
much obvious enough.”

Goblin
rose to his feet, about to interject, but Ghost closed the gap
between us, more offended by the suggestion that he'd been
responsible for spreading rumours than in acknowledging the fact
he'd gone out of his way to make me as unwelcome as he possible
could.

“Rowan. I'm hardly the only one acquainted with your...
condition, and what's more, letting people know wouldn't be
in
my
best
interest,” he said bluntly. “I'd only have to explain how I came to
know of it.”

There were dozens of ways I should've defended myself, but my
thoughts were swirling within my head, forcing the room to spin
along with them. I gripped my hair, unable to make myself say that
I'd brought him back to
life
, that it wasn't some dark
secret he ought to be holding onto, but in the end, all I could do
was escape the kitchen and throw myself onto my bed.

I'd lost
it all. It didn't matter that Claire and Akela knew what I was and
didn't care; it'd spread through town faster than dragon's breath,
then I'd be on my own again, locked in my room, trapped in my head.
Goblin and Ghost were arguing in the kitchen, but I didn't want to
hear it. I wrapped my pillow around my head, determined not to
cry.

It
didn't matter how far I'd come, what I'd been through. Two and a
half years on and there I was again, terrified of the people who
made me out to be a monster.

I had to
go to Claire, had to tell her what was happening. This was her city
and she needed to know if there were going to be yet more problems.
I was determined to leave the room, but it grew dark around me and
my stomach growled, to no avail. It took me hours to bring myself
to stand, and I didn't know how I was supposed to march to Claire
and tell her I'd made another mistake.

That I
had to leave.

It was
ten o'clock when I stood at the tower doors. Sen would've come and
gone with dinner by now, and Claire would be up in her room. Not
sleeping. Reading, maybe. However she passed the long hours when
work no longer consumed her. Expecting resistance, I tried the
handle and the door swung open easily.

I ducked
my head in and found Claire sat behind her desk. One temple was
rested against her palm as she scrawled furiously across a map,
murmuring something under her breath. She didn't hear me when I
closed the door behind myself, and I look slow steps towards her,
wondering why her head kept slipping from the heel of her
palm.

“Claire... ?”

Her head
snapped up, and instead of belatedly realising that she ought to
have been paying attention to her surroundings, she narrowed her
gaze and pulled her eye patch up. It became caught in her hair and
she shook it off her fingers once it was free, leaning back in her
seat and blinking up at me as though I couldn't possibly be
there.