by Sam Farren
I should've been there. Should've held myself together after I'd killed the dragon and gone back for her.
“It was Kidira who saved me. She pulled me from the rubble and took me to Kyrindval,” Claire concluded after a moment.
“Kidira? Queen Kidira's alive?” I asked, and she nodded. “Kouris and Akela... they'll be happy.”
Claire's lips parted, forming a silent oh, and she said, “They're... ?”
“They're alive! I came here with Akela, and Atthis and Kouris are on their way,” I said.
“That's... I'm glad to hear that.”
It was too much to take in at once. The burns made it difficult for Claire to smile, but she tried, lips twitching before slipping back into something more neutral. Any good news was negated by the years missing between us, and all I could think of were the long days she'd spent beneath that building, fire lapping at her skin.
“I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should've been. I wanted to find you, Claire, but...”
“What happened?” Claire asked, needing answers as badly as I did. “Galal said... he said he last saw you with Kouris, facing a dragon. I searched for you, Rowan. Once I was healed enough to move of my own accord, I searched for you, but it was futile. I went to every shelter that had been set up, every camp, and yet... we held a memorial, almost a year ago, for those we'd lost. I—where were you, Rowan?”
“Claire...” I breathed jaggedly, lengths of iron grinding between my ribs, piercing my lungs to know that all I had felt – the certainty of her death, the absence of her in the world – had echoed within her own chest. How heartless I had been to console myself by thinking I meant nothing to her. “Canth. I was in Canth.”
That was it. Two years reduced to a single word.
She repeated it, closed her eyes and brought a hand to her forehead. I smoothed my hands across her shoulders and belatedly realised the floor wasn't the best place to beat our hearts against. I rose slowly, holding out a hand, and Claire picked her cane back up, struggling to rise to her feet.
“Can we sit somewhere?” I asked, glancing at the chairs.
My legs were more unsteady than they'd been upon leaving Oak's back, and Claire tilted her head towards the staircase leading up to the next level. She went ahead, gripping the banister as tightly as her cane, taking them one at a time. She paused with every step, teeth grit, and though I could tell it was causing her pain, I could feel nothing of the injury she'd suffered. I'd been gone for too long and her crushed leg had settled into a new shape.
Claire had made her home on the top floor. A small table with two chairs sat in one corner with a bed opposite it, and on the other side of the room, a dresser and wardrobe were pressed against the wall. Her dragon-bone armour hung from a stand between them. The breastplate was scuffed, and while one of the hollow legs was crushed, none of it showed a hint of the fire that had rushed over Claire.
Books lined a shelf, and I thought of my bag with Claire's things stowed safely inside. I brought a hand to my shoulder but it was gone; left on the floor downstairs, most likely.
Gripping the wall, Claire lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, laying her cane across the covers. I paced back and forth, feeling her eyes on me, uncertain how I'd brought myself to look away. The light was rising and rising within me, no matter how seeing Claire ought to have extinguished all that raged within, for I could feel futile trying to find a way to make this all right was.
“Rowan?” she said when I didn't slow.
I shook my head and kept moving. I grasped for words and none of them were big enough. Nothing that came to mind could express all I'd suffered in two years, how I'd spent every day wishing I'd been stronger; wishing I'd gone back for her.
“Start at the beginning,” Claire suggested softly.
The beginning. Hours – minutes – after I'd last seen her.
“Goblin was right. He saw me and Kouris facing a dragon,” I said, staring at the spot where a mirror should've hung above her dresser. “But I killed it. I reached out and it died. I didn't know I could do that; I wasn't trying to do that. I just didn't want to die like that.”
“You killed a dragon,” she murmured, not surprised or sceptical; merely awed, as though she'd never done the same herself. “And then... ?”
“I wanted to go back to you. I wanted to wipe out the other dragons, but it was too much. I wasn't strong enough, Claire. It was like something in my head snapped. I remember bleeding and bleeding and passing out. I couldn't use my legs for weeks after that. Kouris carried me out of Isin, but no matter where we went, there were dragons.
“Akela was with us. We kept moving south, helping those we could, but... but then we were at the coast. There was nowhere else to go, and there was only one ship left, so we took it to Canth. We were only meant to dock for a few weeks, to wait it out, but...”
“But the Felheimish army closed the ports,” Claire concluded.
She tilted her head forward, eyes on the floor, and ran a hand through her hair, brushing it back. I let her absorb the information as best she could, not yet ready to tell her how I'd earnt our passage pack. My mind had been rent in two: on one side were my memories of Canth, of the adventures I'd had, the things I'd seen and the people I'd come to know, and on the other side were all the things I could express to Claire. Each half felt as hollow as the other.
“Queen Nasrin helped us back,” I managed. “I thought about coming back to Asar every day, Claire. I didn't know what I was going to find here, didn't know what I could do to help, but you have to believe that I wanted to be back, to...”
Claire looked up, catching my gaze, and shoulders slumping, I let myself be pulled towards her. I knelt in front of her, hands on her knees, and she placed a hand on the back of my head.
“I thought you were dead,” I whispered, resting my head in her lap. “I thought I'd never see you again, and I couldn't stop missing you, no matter what I did or where I went.”
She hummed softly, fingers trailing through my hair, I only moved to ensure my weight wasn't pressed against her bad leg.
“I spent a lot of time in Kyrindval, healing to the best of my ability. I have been Marshal here for almost a year. Much has happened, and I... I understand. I understand that it is not easy to reflect on, or articulate, but I understand.”
I lifted my head and she eased me up, guiding me to the spot on the bed next to her. I reached for her hand but she pulled it away, finger and thumb curling towards her palm. I gripped my wrist to stop my hands from wandering again, and Claire turned her head from me when she felt my eyes on her. With her head turned, I could see that her ear had been pinned back, fused to her skull with heat.
“There weren't any healers... ?” I asked weakly.
“No,” she said bluntly, teeth grinding together. “I don't suppose that you could—”
“I'm sorry. The scars are too old. I'd only make it worse,” I said, hands covering my stomach.
“Ah.”
An uneasy quiet gripped the room, whispering that we'd already said all there was to say. Inches and years divided us, and I knew that Claire wasn't the woman I'd once known; I wasn't the person she remembered. It wasn't fair. I had her back and it still wasn't fair. I wanted to claw the months back and make everything right, for what use was I to her now? My powers were worthless, my frustration even more so, and had I washed her scars away, I knew it wouldn't change anything.
I pressed my hands to the sides of my head, trembling.
“Rowan,” Claire said, still needing to repeat my name, to convince herself I was real.
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. She was still Claire, she was still Claire, I reminded myself; it was simply too much at once. I'd feel better in the morning. In a week. When I'd had time to sleep and understood all that had unfolded in my absence.
I reached up, brushing my fingertips against her hand. She sucked in a breath but didn't pull it back, remaining still and steady as I ran my fingers acr
oss knuckles that led nowhere.
“... you're glowing,” she stated, after a while. “I read something of the sort, but I took it to be mere metaphor. Is this the result of pushing your limits against the dragon?”
I tensed in her arms and she eased me back, trying to catch my eye. The truth would find its own way out, eventually. It wouldn't take forever for Katja to reach Orinhal, and all that had happened to Claire was so brazenly on display. She needed to know that I didn't want to keep things from her, not even after all this time.
“Someone hurt me,” I said, faced buried in her shoulder. “... Katja. But I don't want to talk about it. Not yet.”
It took all she had not to lash out with her words, to demand to know what had happened. She tensed, wrapped her arms tighter around me, and all I wanted was for it to all stop. For the world to still and for everything to tumble into the void, my thoughts included. In a sense, I knew that everything had been leading to this point, and now that I was here, I had no idea what my next step ought to be.
My eyelids grew heavy, and Claire's lips atop my head made it all the easier for me to slip away, trapped in a dreamless slumber.
*
I awoke with my head in Claire's lap. She ran her fingers through my hair as I stirred, disturbed by the sun filtering in through the window and feet stomping below. My vision was hazy but I could tell my skin had dulled, and the footsteps making their way up the stairs were impossibly loud. I scrunched my face up, trying to rid myself of the sensation of being held underwater.
“O-oh,” came a voice too soft to match the pounding of feet I'd heard. “I'm sorry, Marshal. I'll go, shall I? I'm sorry, I really am, I...”
I bolted upright, greeted by a pane staring down at the tray of food she'd brought. The first thing I noticed about her – the first thing anyone noticed about her – was the scarring across the right side of her forehead, where a horn ought to be. The other curled back, not quite as long as Kouris', though the pane was far taller. Bright red hair contrasted against her pale skin, and if pane could blush, she would've.
“I didn't realise you had company,” she went on to say, and the voice really was hers. It was verging on melodic, with how gentle it was.
“It's fine, Sen,” Claire said, reaching blindly for her cane. “Sen, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my maid, Sen.”
“Rowan... ?” Sen asked, repeating my name before processing it. I caught her eye and she looked away, fangs worrying into her upper lip. I took a step back, lest I was too close for her liking, and she dared to glance between me and Claire, eyes an unsteady shade of gold. “It's nice to meet you, Rowan.”
“You too, Sen,” I said, holding out a hand. The fact that I'd offered it made her skittish, and she reached out slowly, tentatively taking it in her own without looking directly at me.
A day ago, I would've been convinced that if I ever saw Claire again, nothing could tear me from her side. Now, I was ashamed of how eager I was to leave. I came up with a dozen excuses for her; she had things to attend to, and I'd only get in the way; she needed time to process this, as I too did; she needed to clear things up with Sen, to start making sense of it all; and I inched towards the stairs.
“I should find Akela,” I blurted out.
“Indeed,” Claire said, holding out an arm for Sen to help her up.
I watched as Claire grimaced to stand straight again, body aching with the strain of moving after having sat for so long, and I realised one thing hadn't changed.
She hadn't got any sleep.
I left without another word, found my bag on the floor, and snatched it up, feeling like a thief as I shouldered the doors open. I was a thief, taking Claire's things with me. I moved quickly, not stopping to take in my surroundings, and it didn't take me long to find Akela. All I had to do was follow the sound of an axe cracking something in two.
She was by Orinhal's wall, making herself useful. Dozens of logs were stacked in a pile, and Goblin sat atop one of them, watching Akela as she made short work of the wood. He caught sight of me first, tilted his head my way, and Akela lowered her axe to the ground and rushed over.
“It is true?” she asked. “Ightham, she is alive?”
“She is,” I said, hearing awe seep into my voice. “She's alive. Claire's alive.”
Akela beamed for me, but I couldn't fix my eyes on anything in particular. Akela's face and Goblin's face blurred together, and there were too many people around me making far too much noise. It roared between my ears and finally, I caught sight of the axe, blade glinting against stone.
“I want to help,” I said. “I want to help, so...”
Bemused, Akela took a step back and handed me the axe. She swept an arm out, proudly displaying the wood she'd already cut down to size, and I understood what I needed to do. I stepped in front of the log she was working on, lifted the axe above my head and gripped it so tightly that there was no room to tremble. With one swift, vicious motion, I brought it down, chopping the wood clean in two.
“Almost as good as the Commander!” Goblin cheered, and a curious sort of heat crept over me.
There hadn't been any relief in the motion.
I swung the axe again and again, not caring to cut the wood cleanly; not caring to strike it at all. The whole world could be splinters, for all I cared, and the thock of the wood being struck over and over was the only thing louder than the blood pounding in my ears. I brought the axe down one final time, blade getting caught in the wood, not releasing when I tried to pull it back. I stumbled, dully aware that someone had been calling my name with every swing of the blade, and landed hard against Akela's chest.
She pulled me close, murmuring, “It is alright, it is alright. Claire, she is alive,” as I trembled.
Staring down at the mangled log, I murmured something about having to use it as firewood.
CHAPTER XIV
Goblin's house was a modest building in the heart of Orinhal. He lived with his husband, but was more than happy to give me and Akela somewhere to stay, while we settled in. The room we were given was bare, save for a single chair, but Goblin had plenty of spare blankets and pillows to offer. Akela made a mountain of them in the centre of the room and I placed my bag beneath the chair. With that done, we stood, taking our surroundings in for all of a second.
“Northwood, you are not worrying,” Akela said, “In a week, I am building us a new house, yes? Or, I am being busy, and I am making beds, real beds!”
Not doubting her in the least, I fell atop the pile of blankets, flattening it as I stared at the ceiling. Goblin had insisted upon preparing lunch for us, and there was nothing to do but wait, and—
I bolted upright.
“Did you hear?” I asked. “About Queen Kidira?”
Elbows on the windowsill, Akela tore herself away from staring at the tower and smiled at me, bowing deeply.
“My Queen, she is alive. I am never doubting this, not truly,” she said. “Goblin, he is saying, that a month ago, they are hearing from Queen Kidira. But she is attending to business of her own, yes, finding some new way to help. When she is wanting to be found, I am not losing a second.”
I was happy for Akela, but that happiness was distinct from any news pertaining to Queen Kidira. I didn't wish her ill; I didn't wish anything on her.
Goblin didn't keep us waiting for long. An assortment of plain but well-prepared food was set out, two chairs pulled out for us, and Goblin's husband sat at the other side of the table, already eating. I hadn't expected gushing gratitude from him, but I'd expected some kind of acknowledgement. A wave, a tilt of the head. I would've settled for a grunt.
“Ghost!” Akela said, falling into her chair. “You are not seeing me for years, and you are sitting there, staring at your plate instead! What is so interesting that is hiding under your potatoes, hmm?”
Ghost looked up slowly, trying to conceal a smirk. If I hadn't known who he was, I wouldn't have recognised him; his face was far less distinctive when his skull wasn
't caved in.
“Sorry, Commander. Didn't expect company,” he said, putting his fork down. “Worked a long shift and thought I'd be able to relax.”
Akela laughed, and I took my seat, asking, “Are you a soldier, too?”
Without looking my way, he said, “I am a baker,” affronted by the suggestion.
Never mind, I thought. Goblin fussed with the cutlery, poured me a drink and sat down next to Ghost.
“We can't not take people in! And besides, they're hardly strangers,” Goblin whispered as he got comfortable. “So! Rowan. How are you finding things? I expect it's all quite the surprise...”
I hadn't eaten since we'd arrived in Benkor and Goblin's question caught me with a mouthful of chicken to work through. With all eyes but Ghost's on me, I hurried to swallow it down, mulling over an answer but only managing, “Right. Didn't expect to see any of you,” when it came down to it.
An expectant silence followed, but I could say no more. What did they want to hear from me? That I had thought Claire dead, not burnt; gone with Isin, not leading the survivors in Kastelir? I busied myself with eating, forks scraping against plates as Ghost drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
“Ah! Goblin, you are giving more thought to my offer, yes?” Akela said, rekindling the conversation.
“We'd be more than happy to count you among our numbers, Commander,” Goblin said, smiling. “Although we can't make you commander, just like that. You'll have to earn your place in our army, lest we fall back on Kastelir's unsavoury habits.”
Akela bit into a baguette, shrugging.
“You are giving me a week and they are having to invent a new title for me,” she announced, and no one in the room expected it to take a moment longer.
There should've been no shortage of things for us to say to each other, but the meal trundled on in uneasy silence. I was so eager to disguise the fact that I wasn't speaking that I didn't think twice about how much I was eating. I focused on dishes scraping across the table, cutlery being set down and picked back up, the sound of my teeth constantly coming together, and tried to drown the discomfort out in that way.
