I fully intended to ignore Xavier’s demands when I saw the soldier beside the exit. There was no way past him.
Unable to think of a way out, I stepped onstage, moving behind the curtain. Sir Raleigh and Prince Jori paced toward me, forcing me to walk backward until I bumped into the rear wall of the tavern, beneath the broken window.
I was trapped.
“Maggie! What did I say?” Xavier came behind the curtain and found our company. He set the pot inside the trunk, locking it, thinking they were thieves.
“Can I help you?” Xavier said to Sir Raleigh.
“Yes, you can,” Prince Jori answered. “I’m intrigued by your talents, Xavier. I’ve heard tale of a great Ambrosius, a truly magical being, and perhaps you really are the one we seek. You see, we’ve seen a great many pretenders in the Walled City.”
“We? Who are you?” I asked.
“Forgive me.” He passed me a knowing smile. “Let me first properly introduce myself. I am Prince Jori. By we, of course, I mean my father, King Umbert, and I.”
Xavier’s mouth fell open and he gave a stilted bow. “I—I—Well, I— Your Grace . . . I am the Ambrosius you seek. I can promise you that. What can I do for you?” He eyed his coin bag.
I gripped my skirts in my fists to keep my hands from trembling, and curtsied, pretending this was news to me.
The prince continued, “You and your lovely daughter will come to the Walled City to perform for the opening night feast of the Draignoch Festival.”
It wasn’t a request. It was an order.
Xavier’s cheeks reddened.
The Walled City held a special place in all Hinterfolks’ minds. Rumors spoke of food at the plenty. Fine linens for dresses. Hearth always burning. Music and dances around every corner. A place where happiness was not earned, but free.
I wanted to see such a place. But even more than that, I wanted to see the draignoch.
Xavier’s face broke into a grin. “You honor me, sire.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The prince touched my shoulder. “How is your hand?”
I pursed my lips, confused.
“Where the animal bit you, my lady?” He picked up my hand without asking my permission to do so.
I yanked it back. “It’s fine. He does it all the time. And, um, I am not a lady, sire.”
He slipped his hands behind his back, half smiling. “Take it as a compliment, then.”
I worried I’d offended him.
He turned back to Xavier abruptly. “I’m afraid I must leave straightaway, but rest assured Sir Raleigh will deliver you both to the city safely.”
“It will be done, sire.” Raleigh set his hands on his sword belt and stepped back, giving the prince room to advance.
“I shall see you both when you arrive, then.” Prince Jori gave me a warm, tilting smile before jumping off the stage. He walked with determination out of the tavern, with several soldiers following after him.
And yet, there were still more. At least fifteen of King Umbert’s soldiers, by my quick count. Where had they all come from?
“Can you believe our luck?” Xavier exclaimed to me. He spoke to Sir Raleigh. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll pack our things and prepare for tomorrow.”
Sir Raleigh shook his head in a slow, methodical way. “We’ll pack your wagon. We leave at first light, otherwise a three-day journey will take four. I’ve secured rooms. Food and drink will be brought up. Go now. Get some sleep.”
We were escorted to our rooms, making it impossible for Xavier and me to talk about what exactly had happened.
Once in my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about the draignoch.
She’d done something to me. It was the only explanation that made sense.
I had to find her. I had to figure out what power she had over me.
After a dinner of warm bread and hard cheese, I stood over a washbowl, scrubbing my muddy shoes, when someone knocked softly.
I slid the bolt and found myself staring at Prince Jori’s shy smile. “Excuse the late intrusion.”
“Sire.” I curtsied, only to realize I was standing before him in my shift. I grabbed the blanket from my bed and tossed it around my shoulders. “I thought you left.”
“Soon . . .” He twisted a flower stem between his thumb and finger. “I saw this and thought of you. It’s a wild rose.”
“Yes. It is.” I knew them well. Five red, delicate petals surrounding a brilliant yellow center.
“They grow near the barn,” he added, explaining where it had come from. He held it out to me, but I refused to take it.
It was the king’s flower. “They grow all over the Hinterlands. But, sire, it’s illegal to pick them.”
He grinned widely. “Not for me. Please, take it. I picked it especially for you.”
I should have been flattered. I awkwardly reached out for it. “Thank you.”
Our hands brushed in passing, eliciting a knowing smile from the prince. “Raleigh has assured me you will be well taken care of on the way back. You will have your own tent, away from the men. But rest knowing you will be heavily guarded too.” He must have seen my expression sour. “For your safety, Maggie.”
I didn’t like the sound of it. “I can take care of myself.”
Prince Jori pressed his lips tightly together, as if holding back a secret. “So I’ve seen.”
Ah, so he did recognize me from our encounter in the woods. I sniffed the delicate flower, trying to hide my shock.
“Sire? The men are saddled,” a soldier called.
“Very well.” He turned to leave. “I look forward to seeing you soon, Maggie. Safe travels.”
As soon as I heard the prince’s footsteps on the stairs, the guard pulled my door shut. I hid the flower beneath the washbowl, worried someone would accuse me of picking it, and crawled into bed, exhausted but unable to fall asleep. First, I pondered whether Prince Jori would’ve told Sir Raleigh that it was me who stabbed Moldark. If he had, why hadn’t Raleigh arrested me? Was he waiting to do that once inside the Walled City? But then, why wait? Why not lop off my hand now? I stared at my tingling palm. The power. It was still there, but what was it?
I sat up to reach the window, pulling the curtain back, and pressed my hand against the glass. A moonbeam no thicker than thread dropped from the dark sky, the end dangling like a dewdrop.
Full of wonder, I pushed open the window to catch it. Cold breeze rushed into the already chilly room. But for some mysterious reason, I wasn’t cold in the slightest. The moonlight traveled from my palm up my arm until it touched my scar, tracing it.
“Ha!” Incredible. The lines and dots glowed, twinkling in the darkness of my room.
I stared at the moon. “I don’t understand. What is happening to me?”
I crawled to the other side of the bed, stretching the moon’s thread until it was so thin it was barely visible, waiting, but for what?
“What is this?” I yelled at the moon, thrusting my hand in its face, feeling like an idiot.
The silence was infuriating.
I slammed the window shut, pulling the curtain so the moon couldn’t find me. I was immediately overwhelmed by a terrible sense of loss, my chest filling with a frigid dread. Shivering uncontrollably, I ripped the curtain back, feeling relieved, yet terrified at the relief. Whatever that draignoch did to me, I was never going to be the same.
Soldiers woke us at first light in a hurry to leave. On the chance that Prince Jori had said nothing of my identity to Sir Raleigh, I left my usual traveling clothes beneath the bed in the room and put on my costume dress. I never wore it except onstage. The old wool itched and if it got wet, I would smell like an old sheep as we entered the grand Walled City, but it was better than being recognized and losing my hand.
I slipped it on and stood far enough back to see myself in the little mirror on the night table. I was heading to the Walled City, to the festival to perform. I had to look like a lady, even if I didn’t fee
l like one. Throwing my shoulders back, I stood taller, and combed my unruly curls with my fingers, twisting a few around my face, leaving the rest loose and hanging down my back. I smiled sweetly at my reflection, feeling like a complete idiot. Ladylike I was not, but I supposed I could pretend to be.
I rode in our wagon with Xavier while Sir Raleigh and his men fanned out, some ahead and others traipsing behind. As soon as we hit open road, Xavier spoke in hushed tones.
“Maggie, the squirrel . . . the moonlight . . . ,” he started, then glanced up, perhaps looking for the moon, then around to make sure the men were out of earshot. Once satisfied, he added, “I gave this a lot of thought last night. And I need to know. Was it . . . you?”
I should have told him the truth, that I believed it was, but I hesitated. Any mention of the draignoch would draw the soldiers’ attention.
“No,” I said with conviction. “It wasn’t.” A second later I felt guilty for lying to him.
He glared at me. “I ran through every memory, every motion that led up to that event. Where my hands were, how the jewels were placed, when I touched the staff to the floor. But I never did touch the squirrel. That was you. Your hand.” His expression turned angry. His hot moldy breath gusted into my face. “You’ve found an instrument of real magic, haven’t you? You’re keeping it from me! Where is it? Where have you hidden it?” He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. “Give it to me! Give it to me now!”
The soldiers stared at the fuss he was making.
I’d only ever seen that look on Xavier’s face once before. It was the look of a man driven insane in the pursuit of something he could never have. Worse now, because he thought I’d found it and was keeping it from him.
“I have nothing,” I growled. “It wasn’t me!” I tried to push him away, but Xavier didn’t let go.
A few months back, Xavier had bought a serpent from a traveler who claimed it had the power to turn people invisible. Before nightfall, he spread it out on a long flat rock and sliced off its head. He drank its blood, howled at the full moon. He had then laid his arms wide and smiled at me, his teeth stained rust, with the same wild eyes.
If he thought there was even a possibility I had magic, he’d sacrifice me as willingly as he had killed the snake. Would he drink my blood?
“Is there a problem?” Sir Raleigh’s cool northern lilt snuck up on us. He rode his horse beside the wagon, slowing to match Dorn’s pace.
Xavier calmed, but didn’t let go. He sat taller and put on a pleasing expression. “No. No problem. Maggie forgot something back at the tavern, but I told her there was no turning back now.” Xavier patted my shoulder.
Fuming, I bit my lip to keep quiet.
“’Fraid not.” Raleigh tossed me an apple, then kicked his horse, trotting ahead.
“Thank you,” I called after him, oddly hoping he wouldn’t go far.
Xavier leaned over and whispered, “We’re not finished.”
I shifted, trying to keep my voice low. “I do not know what happened last night any more than you do. Maybe all the baubles you have finally aligned in exactly the right way. Did you ever think of that?” It sounded good to my ears.
His glare lessened, his face contorted, mulling over the possibility. “No. I hadn’t. But I suppose that would mean . . .” His anger flipped. His eyes grew wide with excitement, then narrowed with worry. “But how am I to do it again? If I don’t know exactly how I did it? And I must, Maggie. We are going to the Walled City. We are to perform for the king!”
“Practice. We have three nights before the performance. We can sneak off after they set up camp.”
That quieted him. He released my shoulder. I rubbed the place where his fingers had dug into my skin, leaving bruises that would stay for some time.
Within an hour of leaving the seaside village, we passed the tall stone marking the border for the South. Typically, with fall came rain, but not this year. We traversed through a river that only a year prior would have reached Dorn’s neck, but she was barely inconvenienced, sloshing through it as if it were a puddle. There was no sweet smell from harvested wheat to greet us in the fields. Only dried beds and cracked ground. The drought had hit the South hard.
At the sight of the first farmhouse, Sir Raleigh jerked his chin. His men dismounted horse and wagon and stormed up to the home.
“Why have we stopped?” I asked, pulling Dorn’s reins.
“King’s business,” Sir Raleigh said, twirling a grass stem that he had chewed on since the creek. “Collecting taxes.”
“Taxes? But the fields are devastated. Does the king not know of the drought that struck this summer? There’s been little water for months. This family likely can’t even feed their own!”
Xavier shushed me. “Sir Raleigh, please forgive her impudence.”
Raleigh walked his horse around the wagon until he was beside me.
“The East and West have already paid a heavy share this year. It is only fair the South give their part.” He stared at me as if he were trying to teach me a lesson, like an old man passing out indisputable worldly wisdom.
“I’m sure if you asked those in the East and West, they would forgo fairness this season so these southerners do not need to starve.”
Raleigh gave an amused smirk. “You are clearly too young to understand the way of things.”
“And you’re clearly too old to hear the truth!”
Raleigh reeled back. A crease formed between his brows. He spat the grass blade, then kicked his horse to a trot to move away from us.
Xavier whacked me on the back of the head. “I should’ve left you at the tavern working for Porchie. You’ll be the death of both of us. Now hold your tongue before they lop it off at my request!”
I rubbed the spot, more for show than anything else. It didn’t really hurt.
Raleigh’s men returned with a small basket of seed grain, probably all the family had to plant for next season.
“We passed through here a year ago. They took us in and fed us. The old man who was missing an eye, and his daughter? Have you forgotten?” I whispered harshly to Xavier.
“Yes, I have. Today I forget everything. We are the king’s guests on this journey and we must act as such.” He tore the reins from me. “Not another word.”
The next farm had nothing to show in produce from their fields, only two pigs in their pen. Sir Raleigh ordered both taken. When the old woman begged to keep one, a soldier struck her with an axe handle on the back of the head, leaving her unconscious and bleeding.
Xavier kept hold of my wrist, keeping me from jumping out of the wagon to help her. I wasn’t surprised by the king’s men. This was what they did. But Xavier’s ability to turn his back shocked me to my core. I’d always thought of him as compassionate. After all, he had taken me in—an urchin with nothing.
There were days when I was young I wished he were my father.
Now all I could think was that I was glad he wasn’t.
As the scene repeated many times over, I felt sicker with each farm we passed. I had seen soldiers pillage their way through the Hinterlands every harvest. Last year, in the East, I hid with other children in the woods, along with half their livestock, to ensure the winter shelves had enough to get through to spring. Xavier was there with me, and them.
But this was different. By all appearances I was with the soldiers. The burden of guilt weighed heavy on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I moved into the rear of the wagon, putting my back to the seat so I wouldn’t have to look at Xavier, and stared at the sky, searching for the moon. I found it too. Strange. I never noticed before how visible it was, in the day or night. A new moon, when it was invisible to the eye, yes, it would then be impossible to find, but now it was there, a thin strip, smiling down on me. A tingling on the back of my neck, my palm prickled too. A reminder of what had transpired in the tavern. A comfort too. I fisted my hand, wanting to keep that feeling forever.
Meanwhile Xavier conversed with the soldier
s as if he was their newfound best friend, asking about the Walled City and after the king and the prince.
Three soldiers dismounted at the last farm before the road inclined. The sun was setting. We were told we would make camp after this, which was good because I couldn’t stop shivering. The moon rose higher. A radiating warmth shot through me, relieving the chill.
I smiled. I hadn’t seen Xavier glance back at me.
“What?” Xavier snapped.
“Nothing.” I scooted lower in the wagon.
The farm looked deserted.
Soldiers kicked open the barn and returned empty-handed. “No horses. Only old hay in the stalls. Rats everywhere.”
“I’ll check the house,” the largest of them called. Yellow haired, with shoulders so square he had to turn sideways to go through the door.
Yet another returned, heaving a sigh. “Stys are empty too, Sir Raleigh. Shall we go?”
“There’s nothing, I swear!” a frantic woman cried from inside the house. “No. Not that. Please . . . !”
Square Shoulders returned with a loaf of bread. “I wouldn’t call this nothing.” He tossed it to another, who put it underneath the cover of one of their five bursting wagons.
A small boy came out of the house. His stomach protruding from starvation, he was so thin a strong wind would blow him over. “Give it back! The king won’t want it! It’s stale! Please!”
“Colin, come back!” His mother stood in the doorway, crying, too afraid to come out. Her skin was so thin her bones threatened to break through if she lost another ounce of weight. She needed to eat. And yet these soldiers were stealing their only food and I was sitting in the back of our wagon, letting them.
Colin rounded on the wagon. Laughing, the soldier kicked him in his stomach. The boy bent over, gasping and coughing. Then he hit him with the butt of his dagger on his forehead, sending him crashing to the ground. His head bleeding, he curled into a ball.
“No! Please . . .” His mother pressed her fingers to her lips.
Square Shoulders stood him upright. “There’s a river a mile off. Go catch yourself a fine fish.”
The Color of Dragons Page 5
