“Am I a prisoner?” I ask.
The guards exchange a glance. “No,” one ventures after a moment, though he doesn’t sound sure.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Captain Vastel asked us to make sure you were attended,” the same guard replies.
“Did he?”
They both nod.
“What are your orders?”
“We’re to accompany you around the castle, and keep you from harm.”
I glare at the men, but there’s no humor in their words. Fools.
“Has Captain Vastel mentioned anywhere that might be … particularly unsafe?” I ask.
“We’ve been asked to keep you from the north tower—that is, the Tower of Victory—and the Tower of Valor. You’re permitted everywhere else, so long as we’re with you.”
The Tower of Victory—the former north tower, which Merek told me was originally used for the Telling and funerals—is where Aurek keeps his chambers. The south tower—the Tower of Valor—was where the Lormerian royal family lived. Though I can’t be sure, I’d be willing to bet it’s where Lief’s quarters are, and where my mother is, too.
“Why am I not permitted to go to the Tower of Valor?” I test them. “What if I need to see my brother?”
The second guard, silent until now, finally speaks in a firm tone. “If you need to see him, you’d better ask us to send word to him.”
So not both fools, then. This one knows it’s not my safety anyone is worried about. “Of course. May I ask your names, if you are to accompany me everywhere?”
The men silently confer again, and then the chattier one shrugs. “I’m Crayne,” he says. “This is Thurn.”
“Well, Crayne and Thurn,” I say. “I need to go to the library.”
I don’t speak again, turning away and sweeping down the corridor as best I can. My breath is visible, white in the chilly air. I’m wearing another dress of Twylla’s, green this time, heavy cotton. It’s less tight than the red one, and marginally thicker, but still exposes my ankles to the bitter air, and makes me wary of breathing too deeply. As I round the corner to the library, something falls to the ground, just missing me; I look down and see ice. There are icicles hanging from the unlit candelabras. I glance at both men to see if they are shocked, but their faces are carefully blank, and when I look closer I see the fur lining their cloaks. When we arrive at the library I step inside, and to my horror, Thurn steps inside with me, jamming his foot into the door as I try to close it.
“I’d like to be alone,” I say.
“Captain’s orders are that outside of your tower, one of us is to keep you in sight at all times.”
“But I’m perfectly safe in here.” I throw the door wide and gesture at the empty room.
Thurn says nothing, stepping past me and taking up a position by the door. When I scowl at him he reaches out and pulls it shut, raising his eyebrows at me.
I turn my back on him and walk to the shelves, shaking with rage. I keep my back to him and thumb through the books, as if looking for a specific one. I need to tell Merek what I learned last night at dinner, and what Lief said this morning, but he won’t be able to linger here with a guard listening in. Especially one who seems less dim than usual. Merek is confident that no one here knows who he truly is, sure his altered appearance, and the fact he was only back in the castle for a moon before Aurek came, means he’s unfamiliar to everyone here. But I was able to recognize him, and I’d rather he didn’t risk it with anyone else. Especially now that Lief is here. Merek has to stay away from Lief.
I pull a volume from the shelves and take it to the table, leaving it there on the pretense of looking for something else, trying to think. I need to see Merek. With my lovely new guard, it seems the only place I’ll be alone is in my rooms, but will they insist on accompanying a servant in? I need a reason for him to stay longer than it would take for him to deliver or fetch a tray. I pull another book down and add it to the first. I keep doing this, pretending to choose books that I need, all the time racking my brains for a way to get Merek to return to my rooms and keep him there for at least five or ten minutes. Enough time to tell him my suspicions about the golems, and the simulacrum; that’s all I need.
Thurn coughs pointedly, and I shoot him a sharp glance, which he returns levelly. So I add another book to my stack and drag a stool over to the shelves in the corner, standing on it and looking at the dusty spines of the books there. One catches my eye and I pull it out. The cover feels familiar against my fingers, and yet strange at the same time. It’s less tattered and stained than the book I knew, as would befit being kept in a royal library.
The Sleeping Prince, and Other Stories.
It might have something useful in it. There’s supposedly a kernel of truth in every fairy tale.
I place it on the top of the pile and lift it, staggering over to the amused-looking Thurn. “Here.” I shove them into his chest hard, forcing him to react instinctively and grab them. “Bring these to my room.” I pull the door open and stride out, biting back a grin that feels like a stranger to my face.
* * *
Back in my tower, I sit at the bureau and wait, flicking through one of the books without seeing the words. I pace, and I pick up a new book and attempt to read it, but I can’t concentrate. I can’t stop fidgeting, either. Merek said Twylla would spend whole days up here, leaving only to pray in her temple, and I have no idea how she managed it. What did she do up here; how did she keep from going mad? No wonder she was so quick to fall for Lief; he must have been the first exciting thing that had happened to her in years.
I build a fire and sit in front of it, waiting. Sooner or later, someone will come with food, and I just have to hope that it’s Merek this time. Hopefully, in the brief moments he can be here without making the guards suspicious, I’ll be able to tell him what I know.
But when Merek does come, with a tray of food and a goblet of maybe water, maybe wine, he shakes his head ever so slightly as he enters, giving me a split-second warning before Thurn appears in the doorway behind him. I look at him, my heart sinking, and then to Merek.
“Thank you,” I say. I reach out to take the tray, but he doesn’t pass it to me, instead lifting the bowl and the goblet from it and placing them on the bureau beside the pile of books. If I wasn’t watching, I would have missed the tiny piece of paper that fell from his sleeve into the bowl. He places the spoon atop it, and bows.
“I’ll return in an hour for the tray, madam.”
“No bother. We can bring it down,” Thurn says. He walks over to us and lifts the goblet, sniffing it. “Very nice,” he says, peering at it as he puts it back down.
A cold sense of dread starts to build as he examines the tray, and when he reaches for the spoon the note is hidden beneath, I speak. “Then you can fetch my milk posset when you do. And tell the kitchen I want lavender in it. I’m not sleeping well. A hot pan for the bed would be nice, too.”
He releases his grip on the spoon as he sneers. “Of course, my lady. Whatever you say, my lady.” He turns to Merek. “Did you get all that? Milk and a pan. Bring them.”
Merek nods and leaves me, and I sit down at the bureau and lift the goblet. Thurn is still watching me, and I feel a stab of anger toward him. I stare at him. “Did you want something else?”
He smirks. “Let us know when you’re finished,” he says, and makes to leave.
The moment his back is turned, I scoop the note out and hide it beneath the lip of the bowl, so when he pauses in the doorway and looks back, I’m lowering the spoon and chewing on my tongue. I sit and eat, pretending to read until I can hear him walking away. I make enough noise with the spoon against the metal bowl to reassure anyone listening, and use my left hand to unfurl the gravy-soaked note. The ink has started to bleed, and there are only a few words written on it. I’ll be back. Play along.
Play along with what? And when?
I finish the food for want of something to do, and then,
despite the early hour, I pull one of Twylla’s thin robes over my dress and take the book of fairy tales to the bed. When I hear footsteps on the stairs, I arrange my face into a scowl, expecting one or both of the guards. I’m half-right; it’s Thurn, and Merek is with him, a hot pan in one hand and a mug in the other. He walks around the bed, holding the mug out to me.
“Your posset, miss. There’s no lavender, I’m afraid.”
“Of course not,” I say. “That would have been too much to ask for.”
He ignores me. “And your hot pan,” he says. Then he drops the cup, gasps loudly, and swings the pan high over his head.
As Thurn shouts and springs toward him, and I scream, Merek smashes the pan onto the floor by the bed. It springs open, the hot coals inside flying out, scattering across the room.
“Rat!” Merek bellows, pointing to the pan.
And sure enough, beneath the pan is the body of a rat.
There is a moment of silence when we all are still, Merek pointing at the rat, Thurn looking furious as Crayne storms into the room and looks at us all, trying to understand what’s happened. I can smell the coals burning the rushes, and I look at Merek. He winks. I don’t know what is meant by the wink, but in a fit of improvisation, I execute a perfect faint.
* * *
They arrange me carefully on the bed and I lie very still while they argue about what to do. Merek goes around the room, extinguishing the coals—I hear the hiss as they burn out—all the while insisting that someone go to Aurek, to warn him that the Rising Dawn may have infiltrated the castle. Crayne agrees with him, but Thurn points out that it’s just one rat, and that it is an old castle.
“I’ve been working here for two years, and I’ve never seen a rat inside the castle before,” Merek insists. “The stables, I’ll grant you. But the smell of the dogs normally keeps them out of here.”
“It’s winter—they’re bound to come inside,” Thurn says. “And it’s not like the dogs come up here.”
“True,” Crayne says, with no indication of who he’s agreeing with. Thurn gives him a filthy look.
“With all due respect, I believe His Grace would want to know about this,” Merek says. “I’m sure you heard about the incident in Lortune town … At the sheriff’s home …”
Thurn looks uncomfortable for the first time.
“Look, I’ll go to him if you’re frightened,” Merek says. “You stay here with the lady and make sure she’s all right—ladies are often, erm … ill after they’ve fainted—and I’ll go and tell him I saw a rat, and I killed it. I’ll make it clear to him it was my action, and my decision to tell him. You won’t be blamed. I’ll tell him you wanted no part of it.”
I don’t need my eyes to be open to know Thurn will be wearing an ugly expression at Merek’s words.
“You will not.” I hear the dark edge in his voice. There is silence for a moment, then: “I’ll go to His Grace with the vermin and tell him it was killed in here.” I notice he makes no mention of saying who did the killing. “Crayne, stay on that door. She doesn’t leave. No matter if the room fills with rats. And you”—I assume he means Merek, and have to fight to keep my eyes closed—“you’d better clean this up and keep an eye on her.” There is a pause, and then he says, “Problem?”
“No,” Merek says in a voice just the right side of sullen. Clever, clever Merek.
I hear Thurn leave, and wonder how Merek plans to get rid of Crayne.
But he doesn’t need to.
“I’ll wait outside,” Crayne says. “I’m not much of one for illness.”
On cue I sit up and begin to retch loudly, leaning over the bed until I’ve heard the door swing shut.
“That was disgusting. Talk fast,” Merek says.
“That was brilliant,” I say in a low voice. “Where did the rat come from?”
“I found it in the stable earlier, already dead. I hid it in my breeches; I was terrified it would fall out halfway up the stairs. I had to walk on the side of my foot.”
“Brilliant,” I repeat. “Listen, Lief thinks Twylla is in Scarron; he’s heading there himself to find her.”
Merek shakes his head. “He’s wrong. She couldn’t coordinate the Rising from there.”
“On that, Aurek is suspicious it might be some of his own men, turned traitor. Helping her.”
“Is he?”
I nod. “He believes it’s the only way they could be so coordinated. Merek, she might be in Scarron. It’s possible. She’s known there; the people would protect her, I’m sure. It would make sense for her to go there.” I take a breath. “But there’s something else. Aurek was preoccupied at dinner—and he mentioned an incident—two in fact—one in Chargate, and one somewhere else. People died, and said he’d have to put something down.” Merek looks puzzled. “I think he means the golems. That they started to act without his commands. He’s mentioned something along those lines before, but I didn’t pay attention then. But I think the golems in Chargate went rogue and had to be stopped. I think the longer they exist, the more independent they become. Eventually, he can’t control them, so he has to destroy them.”
Merek stares into the distance, frowning. “It would explain a lot. Why he hasn’t made an entire army of them. Why he’s recruiting men instead …” He turns his focus on me. “Wait. Is it possible the simulacrum works the same way?”
I lean forward. “I’m sure of it. He came racing in here last night, not long after he got the news, to get more blood. I think he needs to keep it fresh to maintain control over me.”
“This is perfect, don’t you see? It means you can leave. We can go and find the Rising.”
“If he’s just replenished it, it’ll be at its strongest. I’d need to wait until it starts to wear off at least before I run, and even then—”
“How long will that take?” he interrupts me.
“I don’t know.”
“Errin, we can’t afford to wait. I won’t let anything bad happen, I promise. I won’t let you put us at risk.”
“You weren’t there, in Tremayne,” I say. “It was my fault. I underestimated him, and he used it against me, and hundreds of people I knew died because of it. Besides”—I finish what I was trying to say—“I can’t leave Silas.”
“Don’t you think he’d want you to stay—”
“And my mother is here. Lief brought her back with him. I think she’s in the Tower of Valor.”
Merek swears.
But before he can say any more, we hear voices, male, echoing up the tower stairs.
Merek steps away from the bed as the guards return, and to my absolute horror, my brother is with them.
Merek instantly lowers his head, bending into a low bow, shrinking away as though he truly is the servant he’s pretending to be. Lief doesn’t even look at him, fixing his one eye on me.
“Have you ever seen a rat in here before?” he asks.
“No.” I keep my voice quiet, trying to sound weak.
Lief peers around the room, his eyes raking everything, and my heart stops when his eyes seem to linger on Merek, still bent over in submission. Lief walks to the bureau and opens the drawers.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking for droppings,” he says, rifling through some old papers. I see pictures of flowers on the pages before he closes the drawer. He looks at everything: the drapes, under the bed, in the closet, watched silently by me, the guards.
Finally, he turns back to me.
“You fainted?”
“Briefly. A moment, nothing more.”
“Because you saw a rat?”
“It was a shock.”
“I’m sure it was. I believe it’s common for a lady to experience a fainting fit after seeing one.”
Merek becomes utterly still.
“I hope you feel better now,” Lief continues. Then he turns to Merek. “Clean the mess up.”
Merek nods his still-bowed head, and Lief frowns. But he says nothing else, sweeping from the room,
the guards following him like dogs.
I look at Merek and find him staring after Lief, his lips parted.
“What’s wrong?” I mouth.
“We’re so stupid,” he says in a low, flat voice.
“What?”
“Where did you grow up?”
My heart begins to race as realization washes over me: I grew up with my brother on a farm.
There are a lot of rats on farms.
Merek says nothing, instead bending down and gathering together the now cold coals scattered across the floor.
“That was too close,” I say as he tosses them into the fireplace. “If he’d paid any attention to you …”
He remains silent, still bent, seemingly examining his blackened hands.
“You have to go. Now.”
He looks up at me, his eyes wretched. “I know.”
Merek leaves, pale-faced and grim, and I can’t rid myself of the feeling that we’ve made a serious mistake. There is a weight in my stomach, churning and lurching, as though I’m falling. Stupid, stupid idiot. Why don’t I ever think? We used to see rats every day; we lived on a farm, for Oak’s sake. When I was perhaps five, I tried to tame some of them. Lief knows that—he laughed at me for it. I thought I was so clever; I might have ruined everything. Story of my life.
I try to sleep, but the pitching sensation keeps jolting me awake. Every sound is footsteps coming to arrest me, or Aurek coming to force me to jump from the window. I fret for Merek, imagining him being dragged from wherever he sleeps and interrogated, beaten, tortured. Killed. Dying as a servant in the castle his family built centuries ago. I put the chair under the door, but it doesn’t help. I knot myself up, inside and out, tangling my legs in the sheets, sweating despite the cold. What will Lief do?
I must have fallen asleep, because I’m woken by pounding at the door, and shouting. I open my eyes and sit up in the same moment, blinking through the haze in the room. My mouth is suddenly as dry as a bone. This is it.
“Open the bloody door!” one of the guards—maybe Thurn—screams. “Open the door, you silly cow, unless you want to burn to death.”
I realize then that the haze in the room isn’t from sleep but from smoke, but even then, I don’t put it together, looking to my own fireplace in confusion, expecting to see it ablaze, or the candles guttering. I even glance at the floor to see if the rushes are alight, if maybe Merek missed an ember of coal and it’s caught. But no … that was hours ago—
The Scarecrow Queen Page 12
