The King's Questioner

by Nikki Katz

He looked behind him again.

  “Can we buy you a drink?” Kalen approached Jules and Kristoph as they walked nearer. “Cider will warm you quickly, I’m sure.”

  Kristoph took a deep breath and tore his cap off his head. He glanced at Kalen and then Cirrus. “Foreigners, ay?”

  They nodded.

  “I met them earlier today,” Jules said, tilting her head in thanks at Kalen for the distraction.

  “Why not? Anywhere but there—” Kristoph’s eyes cut to the inn a few doors down. Brightly lit windows showcased patrons dining on food.

  Kalen slipped off his glove and reached out to put his arm around the large man as they walked toward the tavern door. He knew the second he touched Kristoph’s skin he’d dive into his thoughts, and the recent memories would be readily available, nowhere near enough time to be locked away. He only needed a few seconds, and it was easier to do it with a quick contact than to ask for permission.

  Kristoph wouldn’t even know what had happened.

  Bare fingers brushed the back of Kristoph’s neck, and Kalen’s mind latched on. Kristoph was seated at a table at the inn, telling his friends his fears of taking care of his family when the baby was born. Suddenly anger blanketed his every thought. How did this happen? Now I’m stuck in Servaille forever. I will never make enough money to support the family, and it’s all her fault.

  Kristoph rose from the chair and walked out, barely glancing at two girls arguing at the counter. One of the girls had her hands fisted at her sides, and her chest shuddered as if she forced deep breaths. Auburn hair plaited into a loose braid, freckles dusting pale skin, a loose wool sweater draping low to show jutting collarbones—

  Kalen tumbled out of his thoughts as Kristoph sped ahead to walk single file through the door. Pinpricks needled into Kalen’s forehead as the sights and sounds came into focus, but he hardly even felt the pain.

  Reign.

  She looked drastically different from the vision in the catacombs. Chaos and melancholy versus order and anger. It was absolutely the same girl, though, and she was even more stunning now than in Gabriel’s memory. Her face had filled in a little, and she had a healthier glow to her skin. Her hair looked soft, even pulled into the braid.

  And she was here.

  Kalen turned to Cirrus. “I’ll be right back.” He was sure he looked panicked, like he was out of his mind, but he had to go. Now. “Buy Kristoph here a drink and keep him company.”

  And he took off at a sprint toward the inn.

  He shoved his hand into his glove as he ran, his only focus on the wooden sign that hung from the awning: SNOWBOUND INN. He shoved at the door that led directly into the dining area, stumbling into a room heavy with the warmth from the hearth and deep conversations as the evening neared its end.

  Eyes darting to and fro, Kalen searched for Reign, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  He grabbed at a serving girl as she passed by. “Excuse me, I’m looking for someone. Auburn hair, freckles—”

  “Reign.”

  “Yes, Reign.”

  The girl sneered. “She’s gone to cope is my guess. She’ll be back for the morning shift, I’m sure. Or maybe not.” She shrugged one shoulder. “One can never tell with her sort of crazy.”

  Shift.

  “She works here?”

  The girl glared at him. “Yeah, how else would she earn her keep? Nobody stays at the inn for free, you know.”

  She started to walk toward the kitchen.

  “Are you sure she won’t return tonight?” Kalen called after her.

  A toss of dark hair. “Not when she’s had an episode.”

  The door closed behind her.

  “Thanks for your help,” Kalen muttered.

  He shoved his way back out into the cold. In the few minutes he’d been inside, Servaille had started to clear out. Most of the storefronts darkened, all the footprints dulled as the wind caught the loose drifts of snow and swept it over the street. Strings of flickerfly light bounced off the white—dusted road, snowdrifts, pale buildings, clouded sky—refracting and reflecting until it seemed Kalen walked through a foggy haze of a dream.

  Kalen hurried to the tavern, where he found Cirrus, Kristoph, and a red-cheeked Luna enjoying freshly poured mugs of ale. Jules had retired for the evening once she’d ensured Kristoph was no longer a danger to himself or the townspeople. He appeared in a much better mood, but Kalen was ready to return to the monastery. They needed sleep and to return to the inn first thing in the morning.

  He tilted his head to the door. Luna threw down a couple of coins, and they excused themselves.

  “Where did you go?” Cirrus asked Kalen as they exited.

  The wind whipped along the street, and they hurried their steps. Kalen filled them in on what he had seen in Kristoph’s mind.

  “Reign was angry, and Kristoph felt it. The entire crowd seemed on edge. I went to the inn to look for her, however they said she wouldn’t be back until morning.”

  “We should head there first thing,” Cirrus said as he stepped over an errant log. He extended his good hand to help Luna after him.

  “Were you able to follow Nero?” Kalen asked her. He trudged ahead, picking up the pace in an attempt to keep warm.

  She shook her head. “This town has too many alleyways and vertical climbs. I did find some entrances into what appear to be the catacombs, but I didn’t delve too deep, because there was no sign of footprints.” She shivered in the cold air. “I did find out where he lives, though.” She pointed up and to the left. “Farther up the mountain, on the same elevation of the monastery but on the other side of the woods, there is a cluster of homes.”

  “And he wasn’t there?”

  “No.”

  Nero and Reign both missing. It was too much of a coincidence. They had to be together.

  But doing what?

  CHAPTER

  17

  “We need to find a safer light source today.” Kalen yawned and didn’t bother to cover his mouth.

  Cirrus had been unable to fall asleep the night prior, what with the darkness of the room and the interior walls blocking out most of the moonlight, so he’d gone in search of candles. After collecting a dozen or so, he’d clustered them on the table closest to his head before promptly dozing off. The brightness, and the fear that the room would catch on fire, jolted Kalen awake every hour or so. He wasn’t exactly well-rested.

  “Either that or I need to get inside your head.”

  “A light source would be great, thanks.” Cirrus, on the other hand, acted downright chipper.

  “Seriously. I would only do it once. I’m not going to invade your privacy,” Kalen said.

  “No way, no how.” Cirrus tugged on his cloak, taking care with his injured arm. “Let’s get some food.”

  “Let’s get on the road, we can eat at the inn,” Kalen said. He donned his gloves and rapped on Luna’s door. Before the second knock, she had thrown it open and slid out beside them. Then it was back into the frigid brightness of day. The sun taunted them with a false sense of warmth, but every gust of wind sent tiny pinpricks of ice crystals down Kalen’s neck and up his sleeves.

  More snow had fallen overnight, making their progress slow as they trudged along the path to the main thoroughfare and into town. They passed the apothecary on their way to the Snowbound Inn, which looked somehow more foreboding in the light of day.

  The building was thrust slightly forward and stretched longer than some of the other storefronts, probably owing to the necessary space for rooms. Narrow windows stretched floor to ceiling in reflective stripes that mirrored the trio and the landscape behind them. A series of three wide steps led to heavy double doors. Kalen strode ahead and opened them. They stepped into a lobby that seemed bent on contradictions. Ornate gilded molding lined the ceilings, while a stained chaise rested in the corner, lopsided pillows stacked against the arm. Newer flickerfly bulbs rested in polished brass holders, a sharp contrast to the massive, rugged landscape
painting hung in the middle of the wall. The half-naked cherubs, with their bulging eyes and exaggerated features, were almost the size of Luna.

  A small bell rested on an empty desk, and Cirrus reached over to give it a shake.

  “One moment please,” a husky voice answered from one of the hallways leading to either side.

  Kalen’s chest tightened as he recognized Reign’s timbre and realized he would finally see her, in person. A curtained doorway parted, and out stepped the princess. Her hair was loosely piled on the top of her head, and her freckles stood out against her pale skin. Soft lips were parted, and she breathed heavily like she’d just completed a chore. Heavy skirts enveloped her hands as she wiped them off and stepped forward.

  “Will you be needing a room?”

  Luna stared openmouthed at the girl before turning to Cirrus. “She looks just like you.”

  He inhaled a sharp breath. “She looks just like my mother.”

  Reign edged closer and tilted her chin to look up at Cirrus, who stood almost a head taller. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Cirrus.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I think I’m your brother.”

  “I don’t have a brother. I don’t have any family.” She stared past Cirrus at Luna, like she couldn’t even be bothered with this discussion.

  Cirrus stepped sideways and blocked her view. “Yes, you do. You have to have a family.”

  “My family abandoned me.” Reign reached out with one hand and pushed him to the side, dismissing him.

  Kalen couldn’t stop staring at the scars that circled her wrists, wondering what had happened to her, if she had been shackled. The heavy weight of sadness settled over him, and he tried to shrug it off, tried to tell his mind that it was only his reaction to Reign and her magick. When he finally tore his gaze away, he realized silence had descended and they were all staring at him expectantly.

  “Did I miss something?” He rubbed at his neck with his gloved hand and tried to look anywhere but Reign’s wide eyes.

  “She told us to leave,” Luna said, her voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

  “No!” The word was nearly a shout. Kalen exhaled slowly. “We need to talk to you. It’s imperative that we talk to you.”

  Reign closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her hands were clutched in her skirts. “You are strangers and know nothing about me, and you also don’t know the consequences of pushing me to do something I don’t want to do.”

  Kalen shuddered as a wave of anxiety crested over him. Cirrus took a full step backward as if he’d been punched in the gut, while Luna stood there, a look of disinterest curtaining her features.

  His gloved hand extended, Kalen tried to battle Reign’s emotions with a calm of his own. “We know more than you think, and we might be able to help. Please. I promise you we mean no harm. Is there a chance we might sit and talk? We’ll order tea.”

  “Breakfast even,” Luna said, her expression deadpan.

  “Yes please. I’m starving.” Cirrus gripped his stomach.

  Reign took a deep breath, her eyes closing for more than a second as if she were trying to calm herself. She tipped her head toward one of the doorways. “Follow me.”

  They arranged themselves around a small round table, Luna and Reign to either side of Kalen, with Cirrus opposite. There was only one other table occupied in the dining hall. It was located near the front window, and the girl Kalen had spoken to the evening prior was assisting them. As soon as she was done, Reign waved her over. The girl looked at Cirrus appraisingly.

  “Who is he?” she asked Reign, not seeming much to care for Luna or Kalen.

  “I’m not sure, Sasha. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Cirrus grinned at her. “Can we please get some tea?”

  “Why sure, I’d absolutely love to get it for you.” She sashayed away.

  “Pastries, too, if you have them,” Cirrus called after her.

  Sasha tossed a smile over her shoulder and disappeared.

  “So.” Reign suddenly sounded tired. “What is it you want to tell me?”

  Kalen leaned in, his eyes on her pale ones. “We came to Servaille specifically in search of you.”

  “Why? So you could study me? Make fun of me?” Her eyes narrowed in a glare at him.

  “Not at all.” Kalen retreated. “We came to take you home.”

  “This is my home—”

  “How can you even say that?” Cirrus interrupted. “This place is colder than Kalen’s parents. And that’s saying a bloody lot.” He looked at Kalen. “Sorry, but it’s true. Your mother was once able turn a room to ice just by opening her mouth.”

  Kalen shrugged in answer. He wasn’t going to take it personally.

  “It’s cold,” Cirrus continued, “and it’s not even your country. It’s not your home. Mureau is.”

  Reign’s fingers laced into one another, then released and relaced. Sasha burst through the door, a tray held aloft in her hand. With a flourish, she settled a pot of hot water into the middle of the table and arranged cups at each seat. Warm rolls were placed in front of Cirrus, along with a board of nuts and dried fruit. The last dish was a bowl of boiled eggs, which Luna immediately dug into. With deft fingers she peeled the shell and popped the entire egg into her mouth.

  Kalen poured himself a cup of tea, and they waited for Sasha to occupy herself elsewhere, out of hearing.

  “Home is wherever I want it to be,” Reign said.

  “Let’s cut to the chase,” Luna said after she chewed and swallowed. “He”—she waved her hand at Cirrus, who was now licking his fingers after picking through the dried fruit—“shockingly enough, is the prince of Mureau. You”—she pointed at Reign—“are his sister.”

  “I’m not a princess.” Her hands unclenched. “I’m a gutter rat, an orphan, a menace to the village, and a witch.” She ticked off each item on her fingers. “Among other things.” Her fingers curled into fists again, and her voice rose. “Royalty is not one of them.”

  Kalen suddenly reeled away as a wave of anger and anguish pulsed over him.

  “Enough.” Cirrus scraped his chair back, and his teeth ground together. “You’re coming with us.” His words sounded strangled and his tone foreign.

  “You can’t just take me. I won’t go with you. I don’t even know you.”

  The voices at the other table picked up in volume, and two of the patrons began to argue.

  “Please, just leave,” Reign said.

  Another pulse of anger.

  Kalen’s own emotions, his interest in Reign, and his excitement at finally finding her were tamped by this frustration. It made him antsy, made him want to run and take out his anger on something.

  Reign stood and brushed past him as she headed toward the kitchen. “Sasha.” Her voice was strong yet distraught. “Can you please send for Nero? Have him meet me as normal.”

  The trio rose and followed close behind her.

  “Where are you going?” Kalen asked as she wound her way through the small kitchen and out the back door. They spilled into an alleyway that stretched behind the buildings.

  Reign didn’t answer, only picked up her pace and dashed down the narrow path. “Leave me alone!” She hurled the words behind her, along with another pulse of emotion. Kalen tried to shove it aside, tried to reject the notion of anxiety and flight.

  “Reign, wait. We are trying to help. We need your help,” Kalen yelled up to her.

  She turned and disappeared into the face of the mountain. Kalen reached the corner and was the first to see it, an entrance carved into the stone. Darkness spilled out from the tunnel beyond, and he wondered where it led. He stalled for a brief moment and then charged into the darkness.

  “I can’t do it. I can’t go in there,” he heard Cirrus say.

  Bulbs lined the tunnel at irregular intervals, not a lot of illumination but enough to go by. “There’s light,” Kalen called out behind him, hoping Luna could convince the prince to enter but not s
topping to do it himself. It probably wouldn’t hurt Cirrus to get a little distance from his sister’s emotions anyway.

  The tunnel twisted and turned, branching and forking. Kalen kept seeing glimpses of Reign as she flew down one corridor and then another. At one point he paused and had to listen for her footsteps before continuing. There was no way he would make it back out on his own.

  Finally, he spilled into a side room of the catacombs. He looked up, where he assumed the monastery must be right above him, before taking in the small space. The room was dominated by a gilded table tomb. The top featured an ornate sculpture of a couple lying on their sides, facing one another, limbs entangled.

  Reign stood on the opposite side of the tomb, in the vaulted opening to the main hall, facing away from him, her body heaving. Her hair, a darker red in the catacomb’s shadows, had come loose and tumbled over her shoulders.

  “Reign?” He spoke softly and stepped closer, not wanting to scare her or cause her to run again. After he reached her side, he recognized the space and the room beyond as the one she must have slept in. She drifted over as if in a trance and sank into the pile of rags in the corner. Her fingers played with one of the strips of fabric.

  “What do you want with me?” She looked up at Kalen, her eyes swollen with unshed tears. “Everyone always wants something. What do you truly want?”

  Kalen felt the urge to scoop her into his arms, run his fingers through her tangled hair, and hold her close to his chest. He squatted down a few feet away. “I want to help.”

  Her mouth opened in a sort of half laugh. “By taking me away?”

  “We would never force you to go, but you belong there. At least give it a chance. Your father is there.” Although Kalen wasn’t sure how welcoming the king would be. “And your brother needs you. Your people need you. It’s your kingdom.”

  She shook her head. “Nobody needs me. They always send me away. And how can I believe you anyway? How do you know I’m the princess?”

  Another smaller pulse of anxiety washed over Kalen, and he felt a heaviness weigh him down.

  “You fit the description for starters,” Kalen said, trying to figure out a way to make her see. To alleviate her fears. “But I could ascertain the truth by delving into your memories. Cirrus has a particular one that involves his sister. She was an infant at the time, but if you have the same recollection…” His voice trailed off, and he figured she could make the obvious inference.