Dragonoak (43 page)

She
paced back and forth three times, and not a single person spoke
up.

“I see,”
Claire said, nodding to herself. “And who here has been helped by a
necromancer?”

Ash
stood with her arms stuck firmly by her sides, intent on remaining
perfectly still, until Claire turned to stare at her.

Grinding
her teeth together, she hissed, “Oh, whatever,” under her breath,
hand shooting into the sky.

The
crowd wasn't stunned into silence, not exactly.

“What?”
one man called out. “But you told us about her in the first
place!”

Claire
and I both turned to Ash, who was busy cringing and shaking her
head, well aware that it was already too late to avoid a world of
trouble.

“Listen
to me,” Claire said, reclaiming their attention before the buzz of
conversation rose to a roar. “For almost a year you have helped me
keep Orinhal running. I have kept us safe from dragons and
Felheimish soldiers alike; I have liberated the few cities that
remain, and I have kept our soldiers clear of Rylan as his army
marches through the territories, lest he add them to his own
numbers; and all I am asking is for you to trust me one more time,
as you always have. I will not lead you astray. I would not invite
danger into the city. Rowan will harm none.”

Claire's
words came out strong but there was no agreement to be found within
the crowd. There was nothing but a hint of consideration within the
people gathered close together, as though numbers would protect
them from a necromancer, and Claire turned from them, not about to
waste her breath any further.

I didn't
know how to thank her. She hadn't once dismissed what I was; she'd
been upfront and defended me as she'd promised she would, years
ago. Everything within my chest was twisted and tangled from what
had unfolded with Kouris, but I smiled when I met Claire's eye, not
caring what Orinhal thought of me, so long as Claire was there for
me.

I was
about to say something, to whisper words that barely meant enough,
but the clatter of her cane drew an awful silence out of all those
around us. She'd caught the tip on the corner of a paving stone and
it'd slipped from her grasp, sending her tumbling down with
it.

A
collective gasp filled the air, and there Claire was – there the
Marshal of Orinhal was – flat on her face, unable to get up of her
own accord.

Sen
rushed over, and picked Claire up before anyone could be certain of
what they'd seen. One moment Claire was lying there, and the next
she was inside the tower, door bolted behind her. The crowd had
forgotten about me. Light slipped between my fingers, and with
Claire safe inside, safe with Sen, I took my chance to escape, mind
racing as my heart did.

CHAPTER XVI

I sat
out on the front step of Goblin's cabin, too frustrated to hide
away.

I
watched people pass and wordlessly dared them to approach me, to
say something, but they only walked faster when I didn't blink.
Claire's words had stirred something within them, and though that
something was enough to stop a mob from flooding the street, it
wouldn't last long.

I didn't
care. Let them come for me, let them say what they would. They'd
always be frightened of me, no matter how I fought to prove myself,
and so I might as well use that to my advantage. I'd lasted months
in my farmhouse, in the fields, and none had come for me. None had
dared to lay their hands on me, convinced they were safe, so long
as they kept their distance.

I rested
my chin on my knees, eyes fixed on the tower. Claire would be less
inclined than ever to leave its walls, and though what had happened
would never turn the Orinhalians against her, the fact that she'd
sided with a necromancer might. She was the whole reason I was
staying, and yet I couldn't bring myself to walk up to the tower,
to see if she was alright. I was too busy convincing myself that
she didn't need me.

Goblin,
having heard what had happened, brought me dinner, but I couldn't
make myself eat. I couldn't even bring myself to be angry at Ash
for starting this all, despite having absolutely no intention of
ever apologising to Ghost.

“Yrval...” a voice came, dragging me from my thoughts. Kouris
was stood over me, blocking the setting sun. “I'm sorry. I got
ahead of myself.”

I
grunted and she crouched in front of me, tilting her head to the
side in an effort to meet my gaze.

“I needed you, Kouris. It's been
hard
here. Everyone knows what I am,
and it's all happening again. And Claire, she's...” I paused,
exhaling sharply. “I thought I'd feel better, seeing her. But
everything with Katja's still right
there
and... and I needed you. You
marched in here, and you looked at me in exactly the same way as
everyone else always has.”

“I can't
begin to apologise enough,” she said, and I lifted my chin, not
about to avert my gaze any longer. “I got ahead of myself. I was
too wrapped up in what had been done, not the fact that you'd been
the one to do it. I know you, yrval. Of course you'd never want to
hurt the pane. You never want to hurt anyone.”

I let a
hand fall to the side, gesturing for her to sit next to me. No
matter what she'd accused me of, I needed to lean against
her.

“I'm
sorry. For what I said,” I murmured, burying my face in the side of
her arm.

“...
don't be. You were only voicing what I've thought plenty of times,”
she said, tensing in a way that said she was fighting not to put
her arm around me, uncertain of how much was too much. “Guess I've
got to be owning up to my past now and again.”

I wanted
to forgive her, but things still didn't feel right. She'd love Oak,
if only she'd meet him, yet I couldn't help but say, “You still
think I did something wrong, don't you?”

Kouris
shuffled, fingers knitting together.

“Can't
be saying I think it was the right thing to do, all things
considered,” she eventually said. “But I'm not holding it against
you, yrval.”

I sat
back up straight and Kouris said, “Claire told me about Kidira.
Told me she's still alive. I'm gonna be heading up towards the
mountains, towards Kyrindval. Word is, she left a month ago,
looking for another way to help. Now, I understand that you
probably don't want to be tracking her down with me, but come with
me, yrval. Come to Kyrindval. You'll be safe there. They're not
gonna care whether you're a necromancer or not.”

She was
leaving already.

She'd
been in Orinhal for a matter of hours, and yet she was already
moving on, off to find the woman she'd left alone for decades. She
was angry at what I'd done but not at me, which likely meant that I
ought to stop feeling nauseous, and as much as I longed for the
warm welcome Kyrindval would doubtlessly offer me, I couldn't go
with her.

“I need
to stay here,” I said. “For Claire.”

“Just
paid her a visit. Can't say she's in the most talkative of moods,”
Kouris hummed. "That pane of hers filled in most of the gaps in the
conversation."

“Sen,” I
said. “And I'm not surprised. I... don't know how to help her,
Kouris. I don't know how to help myself.”

Kouris
placed a hand on my back, rubbing between my shoulder
blades.

“It's
not all up to you, yrval. Just be remembering that.”

I fell
back against her side, and none dared to wander too close to a
necromancer and a pane. I understood why she felt compelled to
leave, but wished that she wouldn't; I wished that this was the end
of our journey, but more than that, I wished that Orinhal felt like
as much of a home as Mahon had.

“Are you
sure you're really wanting to stay here?” Kouris asked, rising to
her feet. I nodded, not forcing myself to voice the right answer,
and she swooped down, hesitating before kissing me atop the head.
“I'm sorry about what I said, yrval. Honestly. You know how much I
love you.”

The
corners of my mouth twitched into a faint smile, and I said, “...
Charley's alive, too. He's over in the stables.”

Kouris
grinned in earnest, fangs showing, and within a handful of seconds,
she was gone, horns no longer visible over the thinning
crowds.

I
decided that there was nothing for it but to pick at my food. I
took the tray inside, set it down on my bed, and ate a little at a
time, waiting for the thoughts that rushed through my mind to give
way to sleep. My head was full of flashes Claire and Kouris, and it
was late out – close to midnight – when it finally occurred to me
to sink beneath the covers.

I pulled
them back and there was a knock at the door. I ignored it, fell
down on the bed, but it sounded again, more urgent than before. I
listened out for sounds within the cabin, but it seemed I was the
only one around. I waited for a third knock before dragging myself
down the corridor and opened it, only to be met by Sen's worried
eyes.

“Rowan.
You need to... need to come with me,” she said, not taking the time
to apologise for coming at such a late hour. I was out of the door
before she'd finished explaining. “I, ah. Made the Marshal dinner,
but when I returned for the dishes, the doors were bolted from the
inside. It's happened before and I tried not to worry, but...
a-after today.”

I ran to
the tower doors and pulled on the handles myself. The doors rattled
in the frame, refusing to budge more than an inch.

“I don't
know what to do,” Sen admitted, eyes stained a pale
silver.

I beat
my fists on the door, calling, “Claire! Claire, open up!” but there
was no response.

I
stepped back, kicked the door for good measure, and rushed around
to the side. The windows were big enough to climb through, but
shutters had been pulled across from the inside. From where I
stood, I couldn't knock them off their hinges.

“Sen.
Break the shutters.”

“B-but—”

“Are you
more worried about Claire being angry with you or something bad
happening to Claire?”

I hadn't dared to think that something
had
happened, and saying it out loud
caused us both to freeze for the briefest moment. Setting her jaw,
Sen stepped forward and knocked the shutters clean through with a
single strike. Wood clattered against the floor and Sen helped me
climb through.

“Go. Go
home. I'll come find you once I know everything's alright,” I
said.

I didn't
think I was brave enough to head up the stairs if I knew Sen was
there, waiting, and she saw it in my expression. Bowing her head,
Sen stepped away, and I stared at the stairs, telling myself that
Claire was asleep. She'd wanted to be alone, locked herself in,
drank too much and passed out; that's all that had
happened.

I took
the stairs slowly, gripping the banister tighter than I needed
to.

“Claire,” I called out. “Claire, it's me.”

I was
going to find her in bed, sleeping. I'd worried for
nothing.

A single
candle burnt low on the table, casting just enough light for me to
make out the grain of the room.

Claire
wasn't sleeping.

She was
sat on the edge of the bed, grasping her dragon-bone knife between
both hands.

“Claire...” I said softly, not daring to blink, lest tears
spill out. “I came to see if you were alright. And I can see that
you're not, but that's okay. Can I have the knife?
Please?”

The
blade pointed at the ceiling, no more steady than the rest of her.
I stayed exactly where I was, glanced at the empty bottle rolled
halfway across the table, and Claire shook her head, over and over.
I took a single step forward and she clutched the knife harder, leg
trembling more than ever.

I could
wrestle the knife out of her hands, if I moved quickly enough. I
was confident of that much, but I didn't want to have to pry it
away from her. I held my breath, counted down from ten, and took
another step. She didn't flinch, and I took another, and then
another, until I could slowly kneel down in front of
her.

“Don't,”
she said, screwing her eyes shut. “Don't...”

“Don't
what, Claire?” I asked softly, doing all I could to keep my eyes on
her, and not the unsteady blade inches from my face.

“Don't
look at me, I...” she murmured, and once those words were free, the
rest clawed their way out of her. “By the time we found a healer,
it was far too late. But if the scars were fresh...”

My chest ached as though everything within it was too frail
to hold onto for much longer, and Claire released the knife with
one hand, reaching up to touch the burns across her face. I brought
my hands up, gently rested my fingers on her wrists when her hand
fell back into her lap, and she said, “Please. Please, I cannot—I
am
trapped
.”

“I can't do that, Claire.
You
can't do that. I want to help you, more than
anything, but this isn't the way to do it. I understand, I really
do, but you can't heal yourself by hurting yourself. Not properly.
Do you remember what you said to me, after you'd slayed that dragon
and returned to Isin? You said that sometimes, you expected the
scars to still be there. You'd look in the mirror and not
understand why you looked the way you did. It's not going to go
away, Claire. And if you do this to yourself... you'll never get a
chance to let it feel even a little bit better,” I said, brushing
my thumbs across the backs of her hands.