by S E Wendel
She had to trot to catch up with Gaetien, who threw his scraps into a trough just inside a pigpen. Adena mimicked him, finding the snorting pigs charming.
She lifted her face to smile at him, but his nervous eyes roved the courtyard around them, searching for dangers. His shoulders tense, Gaetien wordlessly led the way to the far side of the courtyard. He nodded tersely at two guards posted at a small gate cut into the castle wall.
Adena kept her eyes demurely on the stones beneath her feet as they passed through the gate, not reacting when the guards’ lewd jokes followed her out into Scallya. In truth, she barely heard them, having to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Her heart raced, seemingly drawing the blood from her lungs and spreading it to her flaming cheeks and trembling fingertips.
The closeted alleyways Gaetien led her down threatened to overwhelm her senses. The stones were thick and cold, dripping from a misty rain. Dogs chased scurrying rats across pools of human excrement. The scrape of her wooden-soled shoes seemed deafening to Adena’s ears. She fought the rising panic, keeping her eyes on Gaetien’s back.
He moved quickly, carefully, like a panther through the brush, and she followed dutifully, hoping his home was close. She heard bawdy laughter explode from a building nearby, and Gaetien’s shoulders tensed. They waited at the mouth of the alley, watching a drunk man slump along the wall of a tavern and come to rest on his backside with an unceremonious thump. The harlot with him quickly divested him of his coin purse and left him laughing in the street.
“Come on. It’s just up ahead.”
Adena didn’t know how Gaetien ever slept with so much noise just outside his door.
They slipped up the street to a ramshackle door that Gaetien opened, waved her through, and closed all in one movement. Inside was a single room with a sooty hearth on the far side, two cots laid against the north and east walls, and a chair resting before the hearth. A young woman sat in that chair, but she swept to her feet at the sound of the door opening.
Lyda looked very much like her brother, Adena thought. Same coppery curls, same brownish skin dotted with freckles. Lyda should have been softer looking with her rounded, feminine cheeks, but instead, she seemed to Adena to be sharper. She knew Lyda to be the younger sibling, but her eyes held a wariness that Adena had seen throughout the matrons of the Highcrestan court. She had learned Lyda’s past in small snatches from Gaetien, knew she’d once walked the streets to support them. Gaetien had taken the position in Larn’s kitchens to get her off the streets.
The young women stood assessing each other as Gaetien set about locking them inside. Finally, Lyda took Adena by the hands and drew her close to the modest fire, then gently pushed her down into the chair. Her large brown eyes raked across Adena’s face, now lit by the firelight.
“You’ve not eaten,” she said, throwing her brother a hard look. Lyda pressed a cold heel of bread into Adena’s hand. “Eat. You won’t get far on an empty stomach.”
Adena did as she was told, content to catch her breath. When she felt a cough itching her throat, she did her best to keep it in.
Lyda put her hands on her hips. “I hope you’ve got a plan to get her out of the city.”
Adena swallowed hard, the bread scraping against her throat on its way down. “I’ll go to the Lowlands with the army.”
“And how d’you think you’ll do that? You’re too skinny to be a camp follower—besides, someone might recognize you.”
“I’ll enlist. They’re taking new recruits, yes?”
Lyda and Gaetien exchanged a look.
“Yes,” Gaetien said slowly. “You might pass for a boy. But they won’t be taking just anyone.”
“I remember how to use a sword.”
“You could try getting on with the supply caravan,” Lyda suggested. “They won’t expect the cooks to be good fighters. D’you know how to cook?”
“No.”
“I do,” said Gaetien. “She’ll stick with me. We’ll do all right. They don’t eat fancy on campaign.”
Adena’s eyes flicked to Gaetien. “You don’t have to come with me.”
“Yes, I do.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but instead he closed it with a click and shuffled his feet.
After looking between the two of them, Lyda shook her head and said, “I think it’s daft, but she needs to get out of Scallya. The Lowlands’ as good a place as any, I s’pose.”
“She thinks her sisters are down there.”
Lyda turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You think they’re in Rising?”
“Yes.”
“But they could be…” Gaetien didn’t have to finish; dead or worse was implied.
But Gaetien didn’t know Ennis, and Adena didn’t know how to explain to him how she knew, deep down inside of her, that Ennis was all right, was waiting for her.
“Then we’ll get on the supply caravan,” Lyda said after a moment. “But Adena will need to become a boy.” She looked her up and down, saw how her face had lost its feminine softness and how her breasts were barely more than nubs of flesh on her chest, and said, “It shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll have to cut your hair. Could probably sell it for a few extra coins.”
Adena only nodded.
“Gaetien will go tomorrow and get us enlisted. You’ll stay hidden in here until you absolutely have to leave; the less people see you, the better.”
Again, Adena nodded, satisfied to leave Lyda in charge. She’d just met her, but the young woman, with her steely brown eyes, seemed competent. Adena supposed she had to be, to have survived the streets.
Lyda sent Gaetien back into the night to procure some boy’s clothes that would fit Adena, for his scant extras were much too big. When they were alone, Lyda began turning Adena into a boy. She gave Adena’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before setting her scissors on the Courtnay mane.
The scissors snip, snipped, Lyda’s hands gentle on her head. Adena didn’t know how she did it, but Lyda exuded comfort. Not a motherly comfort; she was too sharp for that. But somehow, Adena felt safe in this young woman’s warm, strong hands.
Adena closed her eyes, let the rhythmic snips and the cool air against her neck lull her. She was so very tired. She was coming down off the excitement of her escape, she knew, but the weariness seemed rooted in her bones, her very marrow.
Which was why she had to leave. Now. She had to get to Ennis before the blood consumed her. She had to hold her sister in her arms one more time before she let go of this life. She just needed a little more time.
Forty-Nine
Ma’an was often jealous of his brothers’ oceans and rivers, wondering why their domains should be so vast. Finally, one day, his jealousy became too much and he blocked the Great North River from where it met the sea. Balan and Adain demanded Ma’an move, but their Brother Mountain refused. Balan and Adain fought Ma’an, raising their waters to try and scale the mountains, but each time Ma’an reached into the earth and pulled his spires closer to the sky. Balan sent his waves to crash against the mountains again and again, but Adain, clever Adain, let the water seep into the mountains. His rivers sunk below the earth, carving channels and caverns. And beneath the mountains, the water turned brackish, for the brothers had found each other once again.
—The River Always Meets the Sea
In the long stretches Manek had lain in bed waiting for his skin to seal shut, he thought of little else other than saddling Oren and escaping. He longed to wade into the icy Morroley and feel its slick stones beneath his feet. To walk into the forest and lose himself in trees so tall surely it was Mithria herself who’d put them there. To ride out into the surrounding farms and run his fingers through good Lowland wheat. To mount that glorious wall’s ramparts and walk its catwalk, taking in the view.
But not anymore. Not since Ennis had left three days ago and never returned. As the days wore on, he felt something far more painful than his healing wound breaking across his chest. The bodily hurt he could understand and m
anage—it was tangible. But this new ache festered far deeper than muscle or bone.
Perhaps she’d fled to the north after all. She’d been so sure of him when she’d left, her eyes warm and kiss warmer, but perhaps it had been an act. Perhaps she’d gotten to the Haven and realized her luck. Perhaps she was even now out of his reach.
He chased the suspicion away, ashamed and angry at himself. But still the doubt whispered in his ear, driving him to his wit’s end. Why had she not come back to him? Each day he told himself she must have a reason, and every day, desperation and dread sucked at his innards, keeping him immobile. If he didn’t go down to the Haven, there was a chance she was still there—but if he went, he’d know for sure, one way or the other. The fear of her not being there trapped him in a safe unknowing.
But Manek hated not to know.
“The butter, Manek, please,” said Kasia, hand out expectantly.
Manek dutifully passed the small butter dish, listening to his parents’ morning chatter with only half an ear. That was, until a name caught his ear.
“It is odd,” Kasia agreed to something Kierum said. “I haven’t seen either of them in several days. Ennis or Lora. Ennis I suppose I could understand, but Lora? She’s been so dutiful.”
Manek stopped chewing, swallowing the tasteless mouthful of sausage so he could say, “Lora hasn’t been here.”
“Yes, dear, we know. It’s odd is what we’re saying,” said Kasia, shooting him a small frown for obviously not paying attention.
They were both gone. To the north? Would Lora have gone too?
Pausing only long enough to shove his feet into boots, Manek ignored the surprised looks his parents gave him.
“And where are you going in such a rush?” Kasia asked.
“To the Haven,” he said as he strode towards the door.
Kasia raised an eyebrow, but Kierum just grunted, “Good.”
The door shut behind him, cutting off his mother’s protest that he put on something more substantial than the linen shirt on his back.
One of the stable boys helped him saddle Oren, halving the time it took. It still wasn’t fast enough, and the moment Oren was ready, Manek jumped up and drove his heels in, no matter how his side prickled.
He heard people call out greetings as he rode past, but he didn’t stop. When the Haven finally came into view, his pulse began drumming in his ear.
What struck him first was that none of the Sisters were outside; usually there was at least one tending the garden or praying before the outdoor altar. The Haven stood deceptively quiet. Had they all left? His mouth went dry.
But no, there was a voice from inside. Shouting. He frowned, directing Oren to the eastern side.
Yes, there was definitely shouting. Most of it seemed to be coming from the front room on the second level. With a start, he realized it was Ennis shouting.
“Ennis!” he called in a voice that was much surer than he felt.
The Haven fell silent. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears.
And then there she was in the window, looking down at him with surprise and relief. He wore an expression to match.
When he’d recovered from the giddy shock of seeing her there, Manek took a moment to regard Ennis. Her golden hair was unplaited and tumbling haphazardly down her back. Her eyes seemed sunken and creased, as if she hadn’t slept, and her face looked sallow and wan, as if she hadn’t eaten. Her hands were red and raw, her voice hoarse when she said, “What’s taken you?”
He smiled to hide the growing unease bubbling in his chest. Something was wrong. He wasn’t sure what, but it made hot, angry things flit through his mind to think she was in danger.
Misunderstanding his silence, she said, “You thought I’d gone.”
Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, he said, “I was starting to fear it, yes.”
She frowned. “I wouldn’t abandoned you. I gave you my word.”
“Then what—?”
“Now that I’m free, Renata’s graciously decided to lock me up!” She spat the last part over her shoulder.
Manek’s face fell. “What?”
“Since she won’t be my Lady Sister anymore, she’s decided instead to be my jailer. I’ve been locked in here three days.” Her voice fell quiet then, so only he could hear when she said, “I would’ve come to you otherwise.”
“I know.” Dismounting, he added, “I’m coming up,” and crossed to the front of the Haven, his frustration and annoyance and immense relief quickening his steps.
When he tried the door, he found it locked. Huffing, he banged his hand on it for a good long minute. He could hear raised voices on the other side somewhere, but still the door remained closed.
He sucked in a breath and apologized to his wound. But just as he stepped back to kick the door in, it flew open, a flushed Lora on the other side.
She blew a strand of bedraggled hair off her face. “This’s quite the mess,” she said, beckoning him in.
Behind her, two Sisters retreated up the corridor. When he crossed the threshold, he noticed Lora’s disheveled dress; it was slightly out of place, a sleeve ripped. Three angry red welts on her shoulder looked suspiciously like fingernails…as if she’d fought her way to the door to let him in.
He looked at her in surprise, but she only shook her head, waving for him to hurry and follow her down the corridor.
“Renata’s out of her senses over this,” she told him as they walked. “She says Ennis won’t come out or eat until she sees reason and takes her vows.”
“And the others just went along?”
“They’re terrified of her,” she said, beginning up the stairs. “I’ve managed to hoist her some water and bread at night, though. She asked me to go to you this morning, but they’ve kept me in the Haven and threatened to lock me up with her.” By the time she finished the painfully odd tale, they’d almost reached the end of the hallway on the second floor.
All the Sisters were there, clustered around the last door on the left. Renata stood at their center, a defiant gleam in her eyes as she watched Lora and Manek approach. Manek met her gaze with a glare, clasping his hands behind his back to keep his temper in check.
“Really, Lora, it isn’t enough you keep encouraging her—now you’ve let him intrude on something that doesn’t concern him,” hissed Renata.
“Ennis concerns me a great deal,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. He didn’t want to force the key from Renata, wherever it was. But he would if he had to.
“I’ve warned you before to let Ennis Courtnay alone. You’ve only caused trouble for yourselves and this Haven.”
“Like I give a damn!” came Ennis’s muffled cry from the other side of the door.
“She’s an impetuous child who needs the firm, guiding hand of the Mother,” Renata said, her icy blue eyes trained on the door.
“The Mother’s, or yours?” Lora said.
Renata turned up her lip, and Lora lifted her chin.
“You will let Ennis out now, Sister,” Manek said. “You’ve gone too far.”
“You cannot command me in my own Haven! You go too far.”
“Ennis is free now. She can go wherever and do whatever she likes—you’ve no say over her.”
Renata sneered at him. “Yes, you’ve freed her. To be your whore. How very kind of you.”
“She’s free now. She can do whatever she likes,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “But mark me, she’ll be no one’s whore. She’s a respected woman in Rising—perhaps you’d understand that if you ever left this Haven.”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t freed her because you want her.”
“Of course I want her,” he spat back. “I want her for my wife.”
There were a few audible gasps from the Sisters, and from the corner of his eye, he spied Lora’s exasperated, if pleased, smirk. The room on the other side of the door had fallen silent too, until he heard Ennis say, “Truly?”
“Let her out of there
, so I can ask her properly.”
Renata sneered, but it was Ennis’s sister Irina who stepped forward, her eyes wild. “You can’t marry her!”
His eyebrows rose in surprise, and beside him, he heard all the air escape Lora as she hissed, “Irina!”
“She can’t marry him. She’s already taken her vows. And once a woman’s done so, she can never take a man.”
“What!” Manek and Lora cried at the same time.
The banging on the other side of the door began again in earnest. “Irina! You know that’s a lie!” He heard a particularly loud thud and thought Ennis must be kicking at the door now too. “Manek, she’s lying! She’s lying! I wouldn’t—”
“It’s true,” Renata said, her face slipping into a cool, even mask. “She’s taken her vows. You can’t have her.”
Under Renata’s steely gaze, each of the Sisters stepped forward to confirm what Renata said, letting Irina slip back into the group with a downcast, guilty face. When it was Lora’s turn to speak, Renata fixed her with a hard stare.
But Lora shook her head in disgust. “How dare you?”
“After everything I’ve done for you, Lora, you’re still loyal to her?”
“I am grateful, Sister,” Lora said, her voice threatening to break with anger. “But this isn’t right. You rule the Haven in your name, not Ceralia’s. This Haven isn’t a kingdom, and you aren’t its queen. I won’t stand for it anymore.”
“Wretch.”
Manek took a step forward, his hands still clenched behind him. “Sister, I’ll only ask you once more.” When Renata’s nostrils flared in defiance, he continued, “Rising is grateful to you for what you do, but they’re loyal to me. And to Ennis. If they know she’s here against her will, they’ll gladly help me tear this Haven down to get her.”
“You’d desecrate a Sacred House?” she said in alarm.
