by Grace Martin
My wings still burned, so I called for Caradoc. I looked around, but there was no dark falcon anywhere to be seen. I called for him again, but he didn’t come. I had to land. I was in too much pain to sustain a bird shape.
I landed clumsily on the cobblestones, hurting my legs as I crashed to the ground and falling forward. A moment later, I was back in my own shape with nothing but Caradoc’s cloak to cover me. I cast it away, because if he was going to abandon me, then I’d rather be naked than wear his clothes. My whole body trembled as I began to feel the full effect of the burn. I rolled onto my belly ‒ my whole back, my arms, my legs, still felt as though they were on fire. I probably passed out for a little while.
When I woke up, Caradoc’s cloak was over me again and the burn was gone. I wasn’t in the street anymore. I was in a small room. Caradoc himself sat by me, a neat fire burning not too far away in a grate. I shied away from it.
‘Are you an animal now, afraid of fire?’ Caradoc asked, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.
‘What do you expect, when I’ve been treated like one?’
His face was very stern. ‘I’ve never treated you like an animal, Emer.’
‘No, not you.’ I spoke quietly. ‘You made me feel like I was your equal. No one has ever treated me like that before.’ I swallowed hard. ‘Why did you come back for me? You were long gone.’
‘I never left you, Emer. I flew to my rooms. I brought my pack. I brought you some clothes, too.’ He gestured: they were there in a neat little pile, a lovely blue leather tunic folded on the top. ‘I knew you had powerful magic, because you used it while you were still in the featherskin. You should have been right behind me.’
‘Oh.’ I sat up, careful to keep the cloak around me. Caradoc looked away to save my modesty. Oh, to laugh. Still, I said, ‘Thank you.’ I still wasn’t in a mood to be nice to him, so I added, snarkily, ‘I suppose these belong to your lovely fiancée?’
‘These are yours, Emer,’ he said. ‘I had them made for you.’
All I could say was what I’d just said. ‘Oh. Thank you.’ And yet I was unbelievably touched. He’d thought about this. What had he thought? What had he imagined would happen when I lost my feathers? What had he hoped for? It occurred to me that this was the first time he’d ever seen my face. What did he think? Did he like how I looked?
I was a damn fool for letting myself get so sentimental. I stood up, keeping the cloak around me. Caradoc stood up too, and for a moment we were face to face, and it was so different without the feathers. He smiled at me and reached out to touch my hair.
‘Pretty,’ he said and I would have thrown my arms around him if it wouldn’t have meant letting go of the cloak. I took a step back.
‘Where can I get dressed?’ I asked.
Poor Caradoc. His skin was so pale, when he flushed he went as red as a tomato. He took a step back too. ‘This way,’ he said.
‘Where are we?’ I asked as we went down the narrow corridor to the bedrooms.
‘This was one of our safe houses during the rebellion,’ he said. ‘I was staying here most of the time. Because people could recognise me so easily, I could only come and go in the small hours, but being in the city meant I could direct the rebellion better than I could when we were hiding out in the forest.’ He pointed to a small window at the end of the corridor. ‘See that statue out there? It’s the Umbra, when she rode the lightning back into the past, when she appeared on the lightning strike as a baby in a basket.’
He left me alone to change, but he lingered before he left and by the time he left I was blushing as red as he had. The clothes he’d brought me were lovely ‒ dark trousers and blouse and a long, leather tunic that flared out at the waist and came down to my knees.
There was a comb on the dressing table, so I did my hair, wondering what Caradoc thought of it. There were no pins or ribbons, so I wound the hair around my hand and pulled it into a bun that held itself together, low on the nape of my neck. Some loose tendrils hung around my face, but there wasn’t much I could do about them.
I went back out to the common room where he was sitting by the fire. I twirled like an idiot.
‘What do you think?’ I asked.
From the look in his eyes, he thought a great deal and thought now was a fantastic time to tell me about it. He stood up.
A heavy hand pounded on the front door. ‘Open up in the name of the Empress!’ a man shouted. Caradoc and I looked at one another.
‘How did they find us?’ I asked.
‘Quick,’ Caradoc said. ‘There’s a back door. We can get out.’
We didn’t even have a chance. The guards smashed the door in and caught the pair of us even before we’d made it to the corridor. They took us back to the palace, to the cells, deep in the darkness beneath the castle.
Chapter Eight
I felt sorry for Caradoc in the next cell. Prison was uncomfortable, but it was nothing new after my time in the featherskin. I had a stone bench to sleep on. That was ‒ literally ‒ a step up from my place close to a dead fire at night. We had a little food at night, and again a little food in the morning. When I ate, I didn’t get feathers up my nose. It’s the little things.
In the morning, they took us before the Empress. She was so happy to see Caradoc before her in chains, she was nearly squirming on her golden throne. I don’t think she even saw me. After the fight that I’d put up, the guards held me very tightly, and four or five of them crowded around me, blocking me from the Empress’s view. A dozen of them circled Caradoc.
‘Proud Caradoc,’ the Empress drawled. ‘Finest of the Camiri. Not so very fine today. Not so proud.’
That brought Caradoc’s head up. The Empress knew how to touch a nerve. Caradoc, for all his kindness and compassion and care for others, was still as proud as the morning star. ‘I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of!’ he announced. I remembered that voice from his betrothal ceremony. It still rang from the rafters.
The Empress stood up and started down the stairs from her golden throne. ‘Still so proud in your chains, Caradoc? Were you willing to risk everything for a featherskin? Not only your life but the lives of your people? Your mother, your father, your brothers and sisters… all will die because of this featherskin. Tell me, was she worth it?’
She looked at me for the first time, reaching out a hand to lift my chin, so she could look mockingly in my eyes. Then, her whole demeanour changed. She gasped, a sharp snatch of breath that sounded like it hurt. She breathed out on a sob, then gasped again, her fingers drawing tight against my chin until she was pinching.
‘Oh, Emer,’ she whispered. She shoved the guards aside, shouting, ‘Get away from her, you fools!’ Her fingers gentled on my face. She brushed the hair away from my eyes. ‘Oh, Emer, how old are you?’
‘Eighteen.’ I wanted to pull away from those caressing hands. My skin crawled where she touched me. I could have borne blows. I was prepared for an assault, but this kind of gentle stroking was more than I could stand. I held myself rigid.
‘Emer, you’re so young,’ she crooned, stroking my hair now, running her fingers through the length of it from the roots to the tips. ‘And look at your hair, so dark and so pretty!’ She looked me up and down like she wanted to devour me. I closed my eyes.
When she took both my hands in hers, I couldn’t help the tears that slipped down my cheeks. ‘Oh, stop it, please, stop it!’ I cried. I jerked my hands away and brought them up to cover my face as I wept. I heard a commotion beside me as Caradoc struggled to get free, but the guards held him tight.
The Empress pulled one of my hands away from my face and slapped me hard across the cheek. ‘Ungrateful girl!’ she snapped. ‘What do you suppose I could do to you that hasn’t been done before?’ She stepped back and went up the steps to the throne again. ‘Neither of you know how lucky you are,’ she rapped out. ‘Caradoc, you are fortunate. Emer is the one person in the land who could have saved your life today. Guards! Take them both t
o Caradoc’s room and lock them in. If either of them escapes, I will tear the flesh from your bones myself.’
One of the guards grabbed my arm to turn me around. Before either of us could move a muscle, the Empress had pointed her finger at him. A streak of lightning shot towards the guard and killed him on the spot. She smiled, like a nasty cat.
‘Whoever lays a finger on Emer will die. Emer is my… favourite, my own. Anyone who hurts her is dead, no second chances. Emer, my darling, I’m only putting you under guard for your own good. I’ll have a room prepared for you, the finest in the castle. Only be aware, my dear Emer, my own, if you try and escape, I will kill you too.’ She smiled. ‘If I can’t have you, then nobody will.’
The guards took me and Caradoc to his room and locked us in. They were very careful not to touch me, but a locked door is a locked door, and I was every bit a prisoner now as when I was in the featherskin. When the door closed behind us, I went straight to the window. I touched the glass and sprang back, crying out in pain.
My fingertips were burned where I’d touched the glass. Caradoc was immediately next to me, examining my hands. The burns felt like they went all the way to the bone. Caradoc’s hands, cradling mine, started to glow and the healing warmth slowly drew the pain away.
‘She’s made sure I can’t go out the window. Caradoc, what am I going to do?’ I went into his arms like I’d been doing it for years.
‘I won’t let her hurt you. I promise,’ Caradoc murmured, but he was tense.
‘What does she want from me? How does she know me? I haven’t even been born yet!’ And so what if my laugh was a bit too hysterical? I pushed my face hard against his chest to muffle the laughter. ‘I swear to God, Caradoc, if she touches me again, I’m going to kill myself.’
His arms tightened around me and I felt him tremble. ‘Emer, don’t say that, please.’
I didn’t say it again, but I didn’t take it back.
The guards came to fetch me in the afternoon, three in ordinary uniforms, one with extra braid that marked him as a captain. Servants had brought a midday meal so sumptuous it made me feel sick. ‘Lady, Emer, if you please, your room has been prepared.’
Caradoc and I exchanged glances. ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, I don’t want to go. Caradoc‒!’ I reached out for him but the guards, careful not to touch me, dragged him away. They forced Caradoc’s hand against the burning force-field that filled the window. Caradoc howled in pain and strained against the guards. They held him against the window until I smelled burning flesh.
‘Come with us and he won’t come to any more harm,’ the captain threatened. They let Caradoc fall to the floor. He ended up on his hands and knees, clutching his burned hand to his chest, his head bowed and his hair falling around his face as he gasped in pain.
‘No,’ Caradoc said through gritted teeth, but I couldn’t bear to see him this way.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll come.’
That was the moment I realised I was in love with Caradoc. It wasn’t that he was willing to sacrifice himself for me, but that I was willing to sacrifice myself for him. The only person I loved more than Caradoc was Elisabeth and that was just because my Sparrow was my self.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked out another window I couldn’t get through. When the door opened, I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t help the hitch in my breathing. ‘What do you want me to do?’ I asked, my voice even and controlled, like I was asking if she wanted anything while I was down at the shops.
‘I just wanted to talk to you.’ When I recognised Aine’s voice, I nearly cried. I turned around to face her. She was already dressed for the banquet in a silver-grey gown trimmed with white fur. The window was behind me, so she probably couldn’t see my face clearly and when she came close enough to see me properly her eyes went wide. ‘Emer, your face!’ she cried. ‘Without the feathers, you look…’
‘There’s no need to be rude about it,’ I quipped.
‘But you look just like… well, like us…’
I’d been bold with Caradoc, telling him I was from the future, but I wasn’t going to tell just anyone. ‘Maybe we’re cousins,’ I suggested. She was still examining me and I was getting uncomfortable.
‘Or,’ she said, ‘we might be sisters…’
‘I think you would have noticed me before now if we were sisters.’ I turned away and went to a nearby table. On it was a dozen colourful stones about the size of a plum. I picked one up so I could fidget with it and when I touched it, it made a noise like a bell. Aine moved around until she was facing me across the table.
‘Our birth mother died when Aoife and I were born,’ she said. She picked up another of the stones. ‘Father disappeared. It happened that Mother ‒ the Empress ‒ she was Countess of Cairnagorn at the time and she was visiting while they settled the peace treaty between Cairnagorn and Meistria. Apparently, she and our birth mother were friends from the moment they met. And when they became friends there was peace for the first time in a hundred years. Such a shame there aren’t more friendships like that in the world.’ She rolled the crystal from one hand to the other. ‘Mother found us, newborn and too weak to cry on the bed with our dead mother. She never had children of her own, so she raised me and Aoife.’
I was glad she didn’t meet my eyes because I wanted to throw up, and I’m pretty sure it showed on my face. ‘How did your father disappear?’
‘No one knows. No one ever saw him after that night. He and our birth mother quarrelled the night before she died. Maybe he felt guilty.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Maybe he was guilty. Mother never said exactly how the Queen died.’ She looked up at me. ‘But what if me and Aoife weren’t twins?’
‘It’s pretty obvious you’re twins,’ I replied. I put the stone back on the table and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if the sigh I heard came from Aine or from the stone. ‘You’re identical.’
‘Yes. But what if we were triplets? What if Father took one child with him when he left? What if you were born first and he took you and fled and didn’t know there were more babies? How old are you, Emer?’
‘Eighteen.’
Aine drew in a sharp breath. She came around the table and took my hand in hers. I wanted to pull my hands away, but her face was shining and I couldn’t do that to her.
‘Emer, we’re all eighteen!’
I thought of the Empress with her hands in my hair, that adoring look on her face and I relaxed so much it was a wonder I didn’t fall over. I even felt like my knees were weak. It wasn’t desire I’d seen in her eyes ‒ it was affection for a family member. It’s not like I’d ever experienced that before. I’d spent my whole life only counting on Elisabeth, only loving Elisabeth, that it never occurred to me that other people would one day enter my life.
But it was a lie, wasn’t it? I knew I wasn’t their long-lost triplet sister. I wasn’t even born yet! Could I take advantage of a lie?
Oh, to laugh. Of course I could!
And who was to say it wasn’t true? I’d spent my life in hiding ‒ what were the creepyguardians hiding me from? Even I didn’t know. What if I had been taken away from my mother at birth? Kept in secrecy because I really was the long-lost daughter of a King?
And Elisabeth? What were we now, quadruplets? While my Sparrow and I weren’t identical, we were still the same age and physically so similar that we had to be related. When I thought about my Sparrow, the whole thing started to fall apart, but it was such an attractive idea that I wasn’t willing to let it go.
If I was dubious, I wasn’t going to tell Aine that. Not if it got me privilege, luxury, even a family. I was going to play this for all it was worth.
Aine still held my hands. I gripped hers tighter for a moment and pasted an eager look on my face. ‘No!’ I cried, meaning ‘Yes!’ ‘Do you really think it might be true? I mean, we do all look so alike!’
I didn’t want her sudden embrace, but brand new-born Princess Emer would welcome it, so I let her throw her arms around
me and hold me uncomfortably tight.
A knock on the door made her pull away. Aoife stood in the doorway. ‘How touching,’ she said acidly. ‘We’re all supposed to go in to dinner together. It will be exciting for the people, apparently. Hurry up.’
She turned, swishing a train of red velvet behind her.
It certainly did create a stir when the three of us entered the banquet hall together. Whispers and gasps ricocheted along the tables. The Empress had a smug look on her face. She drank in the sight of the three of us, all alike enough to conceivably be identical triplets.
‘My dear daughters!’ the Empress began, rising to her feet and opening her arms. ‘My princesses who are nearly as dear to me as my own flesh and blood. And Emer ‒ our salvation and my dearest of dear ones. My people, welcome Emer into the constellation of stars in the heavens above you. Emer, my dear. You have spent your life so distant from your family. Now you are here with us again, my Bach Chwaer.’
If I’d thought the gasps and gossip that ricocheted along the tables was remarkable the first time, this was something else. People gasped so loudly that I was surprised they didn’t all pass out. Aine was standing next to me, holding my hand. She jerked her hand from mine and turned to stare at me.
‘What?’ I asked. ‘I think I’ve missed something.’
‘You!’ Aine was looking surprised but it was Aoife who spoke. She was livid. ‘Who do you think you are? No one has even seen your face before today! What makes you so special?’
‘What?’ I asked again. ‘What does Bach Chwaer mean?’
‘It means that our mother has named you as her successor! You will be Empress when she dies.’ She made it sound like that wouldn’t be long if she had anything to do with it. ‘You! A featherskin!’
‘I’m not a featherskin anymore!’ I flashed back. I hadn’t realised how much I hated it until I heard the word on Aoife’s lips.
