by Aaron Pogue
"Can you convince Caleb?"
"Hah. I have about as much chance as you. But there's another way."
I moved closer still. "What's that?"
"Convince your mother. If she orders it, he won't defy her."
I chewed my thumbnail while I considered. "Do you really think she'd agree?"
Jen shrugged. "Depends how convincing you can be."
"But I'll be arguing against Caleb."
Jen shook her head. "I'll take care of him. If you can find an opportunity to speak with your mother, I'll make sure Caleb is distracted."
"So...I just need Mother's blessing? That's it?"
"That's half of it. You absolutely cannot be spotted by the king anywhere near your mother. Do you understand? If you escape from us, that's your crime. But if Timmon thinks Isabelle helped you escape..."
I nodded. "I understand. I'll have to find some way back out of the citadel—"
She rolled her eyes. "Well, I can probably help you with that, too."
I almost didn't ask it, but I had to know. "Why? Why are you suddenly ready to help me?"
Her gaze smoldered, but she gave a shrug of perfect disinterest. "Perhaps I'm just anxious to be rid of you."
"Oh."
"Right. Go with that one. Come on, little prince, before they lock us out."
We caught up with Caleb and Toman barely halfway to the gates. The four of us rode in tense silence for a while. I settled on staring at the fortifications atop the hill to avoid the strange looks Jen kept directing at me.
After a while I frowned. "Um. How are we going to get in?"
Caleb threw a glance back at me, then shrugged. "Through the gates."
I growled my irritation. "But there are guards—"
"Of the Lord of Cara," he said, cutting me off. "They will not be a problem."
"You plan to fight them?" I asked.
He shook his head. Jen chuckled under her breath. Toman only frowned. And I got no more answer than that. We crossed the city in silence while the sun went down.
The guards on the main gate did indeed wear a different livery. And they looked less hostile than anyone we'd encountered in the king's train. One of them ducked his head to Caleb in greeting while another slipped away inside the guardhouse. A moment later a sergeant came out to meet us.
He met Caleb's gaze for a long moment, then flicked a measuring eye to each of the rest of us. To the weapons we wore. To the saddlebags we carried behind us. When he was done he sniffed and nodded. "You only just made it. We should've closed the gates already."
"They won't have noticed in the citadel," Caleb said. "They're rather busy right now."
The sergeant chuckled. "Fair enough. Fair enough. Come on in with ya. John! Get the horses."
Caleb swung easily down. He took his saddlebag and slung it over a shoulder as one of the guards hurried forward to take the reins. I hastened to follow Caleb's example.
There was something of a courtyard inside the walls, but it was barely more than an empty lane between the walls and the inner keep. Heavy iron-banded doors loomed over the courtyard, closed fast and guarded by another complement of the Cara guards, but Caleb and the sergeant headed off down the lane to the left. I followed on their heels.
"Where is she?" Caleb asked.
"Third floor, west wall, with an empty suite next door." The sergeant passed Caleb a heavy copper key that disappeared a moment later.
"The Eagles?" Caleb asked.
"They're in our barracks on the ground floor," the sergeant said. "Just now settling in. And we'll have the honor of sleeping in the courtyard."
Caleb showed no sympathy. "Hm. Not long. The king is in a hurry to be out of here."
"We've heard rumors that...that something attacked the king's camp."
"Just rumors. But the king is anxious to be back in the seat of his power."
The sergeant walked three paces in silence. Then he said, "He will find no enemies here."
The words had undertone. I suspect he'd meant them to come out a warning, a threat that we should behave, but instead they sounded like a question.
Caleb grunted. "The king is safe enough. For now. And where are his quarters?"
The sergeant hesitated, then looked away as he said, "Second floor. West wall. He and all his retainers save the lady."
"Good," Caleb said. The sergeant stopped at a narrow door into the keep. It was unguarded, but no less secure than the great doors on the east wall. There was as much iron as wood to the little door, and it took three keys from the sergeant's chain to open it. He glanced in, nodded once to the liveried guard standing still as a statue across the hall, then stepped back.
"There are servants' stairs—"
"I know my way in your keep," Caleb said, dismissive, but then he seemed to catch himself. "Thank you for your help. I will do nothing to make you regret it."
"The Lord himself—"
"Will never have to know you helped us. You have my word. Thank you."
The sergeant hesitated a moment longer. Then he nodded once, and Caleb led us through the door. The sergeant closed it behind us, and keys ground in the lock to seal it fast.
True to his word, Caleb led us straight and sure to a plain, narrow door that opened on a steep spiral staircase. He took the stairs three at a time until he reached the door on the second floor. There he slowed, stalking in perfect stealth, and we followed his example. There were no sounds from beyond the door, though, and he made one turn up the stairs then sprinted for the third-floor door.
Again he showed as much care as he had at the lower landing. He crept to the door and tilted his head against the wood. He opened the door a crack and peeked through. For a long moment he stared out into the bright corridor beyond. At last I saw him relax. He straightened and tensed his muscles to pull the door open—
And stopped at the sound of voices. My mother spoke in hushed insistence, "No, I assure you, it is no matter to me at all."
"Ah, but your high honor must suffer to be so segregated," the king answered. The words were slick and smooth, but his tone was sharp with irritation.
"I am but a humble servant," Mother answered easily. "And as I understand we are only here for one night. We have all suffered far greater hardships than this, have we not?"
I could just see through the gap in the door, between Caleb's knee and the landing floor. They were no more than shadows against a stripe of brightness, but I saw Mother and the king stop ten paces down the hall.
They were silent for a moment, then the king cleared his throat. "Very well. But I would at least honor you with two soldiers from my personal guard to stand on your door."
Caleb growled. His shoulders tensed, and a hand drifted down toward the hilt on his belt.
But Mother answered quickly, with a conspiratorial shyness, "Please, Your Majesty. The Lord of Cara has been a great friend to my family. I would grant him the honor—"
"Have I not been a greater friend?" the king demanded.
"Oh, certainly. Without question. And you have extended me the opportunity to show my gratitude at some length in your home, while I have only one day beneath this roof and scant opportunity—"
"Fine, fine," the king said, bored. "Keep your country guards. It matters little. My men will stand watch on every door below. I would not risk any threat at all to my loyal retainers."
"We may never find opportunity to repay you sufficiently for your generosity," she said. "But please forgive my frailty. We are not all men of war, and a long day on the march has left me tired."
"Of course it has," the king said. "Of course. Sleep well. We sail for the City at morning bell."
Then he turned with a rustle and stomped off down the hall, the heavy footsteps of two or three guards hurrying along after him. Caleb barely waited until they'd turned the corner at the end of the hall before he jerked the door open and darted through.
There was already a Cara soldier stationed by the door—one who had clearly heard the kin
g's dismissive "country guard," and this one, too, seemed to know Caleb on sight. The soldier threw one nervous glance down the hall after the king, then jerked his head toward the still-open door. We poured through into Mother's room, quiet as a breath of wind, and the guard shut it behind us.
We were in a sitting room, comfortably appointed with thick rugs and heavy tapestries. A narrow door and wide windows on the outer wall showed a stone-wrought balcony that looked out over the sea. To my right, a pair of lattice doors opened into a bedchamber, and I saw Mother standing over a proper bed with a tall mattress, her back to us. She was shaking.
I wanted to go to her, but Caleb did not move. My knights did not move. I restrained myself, and after a long moment she drew a ragged breath. "You were not seen?"
"Not by any of the king's men," Caleb said.
Mother nodded and turned to us. The tracks of tears stained her cheeks, but she held her gaze steady. She glanced over the four of us and nodded. "You have a key to the other room?"
Caleb raised a hand, the key from the sergeant dangling between two fingers.
"Good," she said. "Take the knights and get comfortable. I would speak with Taryn."
Caleb opened his mouth to object, but Jen caught his attention and mumbled something under her breath. I don't know what lie she told him, but it worked. He jerked his head toward the door and led the knights away, frowning all the while. Jen pulled the door shut behind them.
I looked across, meeting Mother's eyes, and now that I could go to her, I suddenly discovered I didn't want to. I was here to say good-bye. The full weight of that hit me all at once and settled in my gut like a block of lead.
My chin rose, and I felt my gaze grow cold. "I saw you with your dragon," I said.
I could not have explained why the statement came like an accusation of betrayal. Not in words.
I didn't have to. She winced as though she understood. "I saw you as well. Sleeping alone. Doing the camp work like all the other soldiers. Your father would be proud."
"You really believe he's alive?"
"I always have, Taryn. He has to be."
"Then why are you spying on me? Shouldn't you be spending the dragon's time on that?"
She smiled at me, clearly a little confused at the direction of the conversation. "Snezynka's not entirely comfortable leaving me in the king's company. She comes back to check sometimes."
I shrugged. "I suppose I should be grateful, or I never would have known about her at all. Did you know I tracked her all the way from the camp?"
"I watched you all the way. Even when you wanted to run away, and you came after me anyway. I've never been more proud. I saw you when you fell."
I nodded, remembering. "You cried out for me."
She shrugged.
"But you did not cry too loudly," I said. "You did not come to me."
"I could not," she said. "The bond with Snezynka is...incomplete. It is strange, and she is skittish. I could not risk—"
"So many good excuses." I turned my face into the chill breeze from the balcony doors. "You both have so many good excuses. For keeping me in the dark. For keeping me locked up. For keeping me away."
"Taryn—" she tried, but I shook my head.
"I wanted so badly to see you," I said. "Just to be near you. Just to talk...." I felt the sting of childish tears behind my eyes and snapped my jaw shut. I forced three calming breaths then lowered my head. "And now that I have the chance, I can't...."
Emotions bubbled behind my breastbone, hot and angry and weeping. Another little gust off the sea rippled the curtains. The winter air felt soft on my too-hot skin, and I chased that small relief. I slipped through to stand on a narrow balcony high over the pounding surf. The roughly-carved stone of the railing felt cold under my hands, and I gripped it until my fingers ached.
This wasn't going right at all! I was supposed to be walking away, not pressing a complaint. But...I wanted an explanation. I wanted an apology. I took another slow breath and focused on my responsibility.
She didn't leave me alone for long. She was barely more a rustle than the ocean wind, but I felt her come close behind me. I expected her to catch my shoulder, to comfort me, but she just stood there, silent. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, and she offered me a small sad smile, but she said nothing.
Still staring at the sea, I did what I had come here to do. "Mother...I know I've done foolish things. I know. I've betrayed your orders. I've damaged your honor and mine. I've made this situation worse for all of us."
She took my hand in both of hers. "You take too much of the blame. I've been thinking about that ever since you discovered Snezynka. I think every mistake you've made was because of the things we've kept hidden from you."
It took more courage than I'd needed to chase a dragon into empty darkness, but I kept my emotions from my face and turned to meet her eyes.
"I don't need apologies," I lied. "The truth is, I shouldn't be meddling in your schemes at all."
"That's not true. You're my son. You belong—"
I raised a hand, warring desperately with my emotions. "I thought so, too, but these are hard times. We must...we must make hard choices, Mother."
She blinked at me, then frowned as though she were just now hearing everything I'd said. She licked her lips. "What do you intend?"
"I need to go back to the Tower."
Pity and guilt flashed in her eyes. "Oh, Taryn—"
"No!" I snapped. "Let's both be realistic. I can sneak away, and then you won't have to worry about me. Caleb won't have to keep track of us both. I can take care of our people at the Tower. I just need you to—"
She wasn't listening. She tried to put her arms around me, but I shoved away.
"Don't feel sorry for me! You've done that already. Don't comfort me. Don't make me promises. All I need from you is a convincing explanation."
She said immediately, "I'll give it. I already promised. Stay with me, and I'll tell you everything we've kept secret."
"No! No. That's not what I mean. I need you to convince Caleb."
"Caleb will do as I command," she said. "We only have to keep you hidden from the king. If he finds you with me, we will have no time to talk."
I squeezed her fingertips and waited for her to stop talking so I could correct her. But the words died on my lips. Did I really want to correct her? This was what I'd been wanting since we left the Tower. This was more. She was prepared to fight to keep me close. She was prepared to tell me everything.
It didn't change anything Caleb had said. I knew that. The right choice was still for me to leave. But I ached to be close to my mother once again.
"Why didn't you do this all before?" I groaned.
"Oh, Taryn, we've been working for years. We've been remaking worlds. And just yesterday you were my little boy—"
"No. Yesterday I was marching to my own captivity."
My tone was more resigned than angry, but still she flinched. "I'm sorry. Too much has happened too quickly."
"And it will happen more quickly when the king is not busy coordinating an army. And more quickly still once we are safely installed in his palace, I expect."
"It will run as slow as ages, then," she said. "But still, you're right. Hush. You're right. I'm sorry. I'll have Caleb explain—"
"No. I'm sorry, Mother, but I need you to explain. I need you to tell me all your plans so I might help you instead of hindering. I need you to tell me everything that's at stake or I can't afford to stay."
She said nothing for a time, only staring into my eyes. Then she smiled. "You're so much like him at times."
I tore my gaze away, but she raised a hand to brush the hair back from my face. "He thinks much the way you do. But he never could speak his feelings. He barely even let himself feel them."
"Wait. Do...do you mean Caleb?"
Her smile twitched. "I mean your father. You wouldn't know it, but there were times he could've taught Caleb lessons in self-restraint."
I felt suddenly a long way away from the conversation we'd just been having, and Mother was further still. I reached up to catch her hand, and she curled her fingers warmly around mine.
"I need your word," I said. "One way or another. Make Caleb send me away, or promise me you'll explain it all."
"I promise. We'll talk tomorrow. We should have the opportunity once we're on the ships."
"But tonight—"
"Tonight we all need rest," she said firmly. "We have done more work than the king's army over the last few days, and we have more adventures still ahead. Let us sleep while we may."
"I can rest here," I said, "There's a couch."
But she shook her head. "There's a room for you and Caleb. It's just next door. I told you, you mustn't be caught here. It would raise too many questions."
"What questions? Caleb is your retainer and I your son. We came to join you—"
"And the king would love to know how," she said.
"Caleb found a friend down at the gate," I said, and then I stopped. I sighed. "Oh."
"Remember that Timmon suspects your father—that he suspects us—of something very near to treason," she said.
"And he would not look well on the city guard of Cara standing with us."
She nodded, approving.
I thought of the guard who had let us into Mother's room and sighed. "Or keeping our secrets."
"We should not make them pay for the kindnesses they've done us."
"No." I sighed. "I understand. I will wait with Caleb and join you in the ship tomorrow."
She smiled, lips tight. "Good. Thank you. And I will begin to repair the damage that I've done between us."
I nodded, satisfied. Then I threw my arms around her in a tight embrace.
She grunted in surprise but squeezed me back every bit as fiercely. "You make me proud," she said, barely more than a breath in my ear. "You grow so fast."
I pushed back so I could show her my smile, then I swallowed hard. "I should go."
She nodded in silent agreement and pulled the curtains aside just in time to reveal the outer door swinging open. In the hall beyond, the king waited.
I had one moment of perfect clarity. The king stood with the Cara guard and two of his own Green Eagles, his attention not yet turned my way. I saw the anger in his eyes, the dark victory, the certainty he would catch my mother in some betrayal. I saw another disaster that would be blamed on me, another setback to my mother's plans and to Caleb's desperate attempts to protect her.
