by Anne Wheeler
Lights and voices inside an inn ahead caught my eyes. Early morning it might be, but at least some residents of Windersay were still up—likely ones who were celebrating their survival and drowning in ale their sorrows over Laurent’s escape, I hoped. Just . . . just not too much ale. I crept closer to peek inside, staying in the shadows of the alley. The magic, I hoped, would tell me if this was the place to make my appearance. It was difficult to tell through the fogged-over window, but it appeared most of the patrons were sailors and workers from the docks—though a few soldiers were visible in the corner, their uniforms obvious through the condensation dripping down the glass.
“What’s this?”
I started at the voice. It was a tavern worker who’d caught me staring.
“You look familiar.” He peered at me through the shadows, and I held my breath. “That Meirdrean girl! The one who—”
My legs acted without permission, and I darted toward the left, away from his grip. Suddenly, with my goal within reach, I was too terrified to follow through. I would have to run back to the inn, would have to find Laurent, confess my failure. He would forgive me, I was certain, but . . .
Would I forgive myself?
I froze at the internal question, my chest heaving. The man was beside me in two steps, and when his fingers curled around my upper arm, I didn’t fight back. I didn’t protest as he led me inside the tavern, my appearance stopping all conversation immediately. I had, apparently, found a group of Windersay residents who recognized me at once.
An officer in the corner rose, interest written all over his face. “Where’d you find her, Leontiou?”
“Skulking around out back.” He pushed me forward, into the center of the tavern. “Listening in who knows what. Probably trying to decide what dark magic to use on us next.”
“I wasn’t listening to anything,” I replied, rubbing my wrists in a vain attempt to calm myself. “I couldn’t have heard through the glass even if I wanted to.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked.
I shook off the tavern owner’s hand on my arm. “I have information for King Damir.”
The room fell silent, except for the distant calls of birds, disturbed from their nightly slumber by the rising sun near the horizon.
“What kind of information?” The officer circled around me, as though he’d discover the information just by staring at me. Looking through me. “Surely you can’t expect me to disturb His Majesty on nothing more than your word.”
“That”—I lifted my chin, if only to convince myself of my non-existent bravery—“is only for King Damir’s ears. If you know who I am, you will not risk arguing with me.”
A roar of laughter. It filled my mind, along with a certain sense of purpose I’d been missing since Thomas had pushed me onto that ship way back in Vistel. And suddenly, somewhere deep inside me, I realized Laurent and I had made the right decision by allowing this foolish endeavor. The map? Some other magic? My own soul, letting me know I was finally doing something right? Maybe it didn’t matter.
“Then by all means,” the officer said, gesturing me toward the front door, “let’s get you to King Damir.”
In the early morning darkness, the tower I thought I’d never see again was cold, even with the window closed. I paced from it to the door and back, sometimes counting my steps, sometimes simply walking, my mind elsewhere. Was it fear? There was some of that threatening to bubble up, but also a certain giddiness—Damir no doubt knew I’d turned myself in, which meant Laurent was safe for now. And the longer he waited to see me, the longer it took for him to debate my intentions and power, the closer King Marius and his army would be to Windersay.
A flicker of gilded sunlight appeared through the window as the sun rose, and I yawned despite myself. Sleep was tempting, but I knew I’d dream of Laurent if I could find a comfortable position on the stone floor, so I continued my pacing. No one came, not Damir, nor Thomas, nor any of the soldiers, and by the time the sun set once more, my stomach was growling.
But that was one much-needed day down. One day to allow Laurent to heal. To allow King Marius’s approach. Or had Damir ignored my message totally? Had he headed back into Windersay, searching each inn and private home for Laurent?
My eyes burned as I leaned against the wall and let my imagination take control. It was difficult to dream with the smell of salt on the breeze, but if I concentrated, I could feel Laurent’s hands on my skin. The earthy scent of horses in the Lochfeld stables. The breeze through the apple orchards outside Elternow. Would I live to experience them? Would Meirdre exist in another month? All of it was too much to think about, so I stood on the stone bench and tried to yank the window shut. It would make the tower room claustrophobic, but if I could only ignore the perfume of the sea, perhaps I could ignore the entire situation—especially since the door creaked open just as I hopped down.
“Are you planning on jumping?” Damir asked, closing the door behind him.
“I hate the smell of the ocean,” I replied. “It smells . . . rotten.”
“I doubt that, after what I witnessed last night.” He gave me a sullen smile. “You told my soldiers you had something to tell me?”
I took a breath. It would be the most difficult lie I’d ever told, and yet the most important. But the shadows of the tower embraced me as I swallowed, calming me somehow. Like they know my motive and were holding me in their own approval.
“I was wrong,” I said, keeping my voice soft. Disappointed. Not distraught, for I doubted Damir would listen to a distraught woman, no matter what information or powers she held. “Wrong to do it, wrong to run afterward. Because even after what I did, he—he didn’t want me after all.”
His eyes widened a fraction. “And you’re angry.”
Tears wet my cheeks, so easy. “I sacrificed so much for him, and he threw it all away, all because he was afraid of my gifts.”
Damir sank to the bench opposite me, half shrouded in darkness, half shimmering in the moonlight. Dusky circles under his eyes shadowed his expression, but the lines in his face had faded somewhat, like my appearance had been the answer to his prayers. A moonbeam hit the clasps on his cloak as he shifted, and a pair of dragons stared back at me, disappearing into the shadows as he leaned against the wall.
“I would not be,” he replied. “The power you showed last night is not to be discarded out of fear. Any sovereign worth anything would see that.”
“I thought you might understand.” I looked out the window, like I was second-guessing my decision. Rushing would seem suspicious. In truth, I was searching for wherever Laurent might be, praying he might send me some of his strength somehow. Was that silly? It felt like it, but something told me Laurent wouldn’t mind sharing. Not now. “And that means you deserve the power. Vassian deserves it.”
“Then you confess that you lied to me before. That you do have powers. And you were well aware of them when we last spoke.”
“I wouldn’t think I’d need to confess after what happened down in the village.” I gave him a choked laugh, one I didn’t need to feign. “But no. Until last night, I wasn’t aware that what I did there was possible. It surprised me as much as it must have surprised you.”
“Hmm.”
He studied me so long that the glint of moonlight drifted across the floor. Time was both my friend and enemy—the longer I sat here, the closer I was to losing my nerve, but the more chance Laurent and King Marius had of seeing things through. The very idea made me shake, the responsibility too heavy to bear.
“Then we shall see what else you are capable of,” he said, slapping his palms on the bench. “But not here.”
“Not here?” I stammered.
He smiled and pointed toward the door.
“Not here.”
Chapter Sixteen
The carriage Damir showed me to was as unlike the cart in which Laurent had ridden as possible. Though I hated to admit it, it could have been called more luxurious than the one in whi
ch I’d ridden to Iraela so long ago. If only I didn’t have to share with Damir and Thomas, it could have been . . . almost enjoyable.
But Thomas’s sneer had grown old long before we’d settled into our journey on the road from Windersay to Damir’s principal palace outside Heosta. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew my true motivation for being here, but he hadn’t said anything to Damir yet, so I had to assume I was safe—for a while, at least. I leaned my head against the side as Damir made small talk with me about the spring planting season, and I tried to ignore his voice as the sun came up and filled the carriage with an unwelcome warmth.
He had claimed, when we’d departed the tower, that the trip to the palace would take less than two days. By the way the driver was whipping the horses, I believed it. Still, I couldn’t help wishing he’d urge them on faster, if only because I couldn’t stand the idea of spending the night in a strange inn in Vassian, Thomas in a nearby room. But we came to a stop as the sun dipped low in the distance, outside a squat building built around what looked like a courtyard. Strange trees surrounded it—plain, brown trunks with a set of fanlike leaves on top. I’d never seen such a thing except in books, and despite Thomas’s presence, I couldn’t help staring at the exotic sight.
Damir jumped out of the carriage into the sand below, all silk and fine leather and unnecessary bluster toward the innkeeper, and I pressed myself into the velvet seat, hoping he would forget about me. But he motioned me out, Thomas at my side, and I trudged upstairs to a small, spartan room. The cracked window overlooked the road, enough that I could see anyone coming to my rescue.
But that was silly, for there was no rescue coming. I’d volunteered for this, hadn’t I? And I was succeeding—I’d tempted Damir away from Windersay. It was a waiting game now.
“We leave early in the morning for Heosta,” Thomas said before shutting the door. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I ignored him and deadbolted the door. Despite the dust from the road that needed to wash off, I curled up on the ancient bed, still in my stays and gown, and stifled a yawn as it creaked. I wanted Laurent’s arms around me, and I wanted to go home, so I closed my eyes and let sleep take me. If I couldn’t see either right now, at least I could see both in my dreams.
I woke to the sliding of the deadbolt on the inside of my door. I must have dreamed the intrusion before it woke me, for my heart was already pounding. I told myself it was simply Thomas come to wake me up to resume my journey—not that I approved of that familiarity of him entering my room at all, but it would have been a reason—but moonlight still cascaded across the floor when I opened my eyes and tried to focus in the darkness.
It wasn’t Thomas who’d entered, though. Damir stood there in the moonlight, but I could tell in an instant that his intentions were . . . well, not noble, but also not what I’d initially feared. The curiosity was simply too plain on his face.
“What do you want?” I clutched the blanket to my chest as he stood there, staring.
“I couldn’t wait until we reach Heosta to see what else your powers allow.” He took a step toward me. “I have to know now. Please.”
The desperation in his please threw me. Laurent had sounded that desperate once, back when I had thought little of him. Could Damir possibly have some compelling reason for wanting access to my powers?
I shook off the question. Pity was the last thing I needed to feel for him now. Even if the dragons of old themselves were raiding Vassian, his fate was not my business. Damir would deserve his scorched farmland, and even as a farmer’s daughter, I would be happy enough to watch.
“It’s the middle of the night,” I replied, drawing up my most regal tone, “and I would have assumed to be treated with more propriety than this. You couldn’t have waited until the morning, at least?”
He shook his head and took another step forward. I sighed and swung my feet to the floor. Maybe it didn’t matter. There was no magic floating through the inn that I could sense, so he was likely only wasting his time and my sleep. I padded along next to him as he led me to the courtyard, brighter than I would have expected in the moonlight. The fountain in the center bubbled as we entered, and I sank to the edge, letting the cool water flow over my fingers. Now that the time had come, it scarcely calmed the heat I felt in my soul.
“What exactly are you expecting from me?” I asked.
“I saw you call for the water, even if you didn’t know what you were doing.” He circled the fountain, his gaze never leaving mine. “Perhaps something with the fountain. What do you think? Is it calling to you?”
I jerked my fingers out of the water and wiped them on my skirts. Finally, it had to come to this. I had known when I’d left Laurent in Windersay that I was taking a risk—that he might not catch up to me once Damir’s soldiers had vacated the town, leaving Laurent safe. Nausea rolled through my gut. Damir was seconds from calling my bluff, and once he did—
“I don’t feel anything,” I said. “Maybe if you were in danger, I might. We should continue on the road to Heosta and see if anything changes.” Fear prickled a warning in my gut, but I couldn’t help issuing him an order. “If there are bandits, or a flood, or even a sandstorm, then perhaps that would put you in enough danger to—”
“I may be desperate for your power, but I am not a fool,” he interrupted. His leathery face smooth in the moonlight as he peered at me, then shouted over his shoulder, words I didn’t understand until three soldiers appeared in the shadows behind him. “I think you’ve been playing me, and now I want the truth.”
Fear.
I might not feel the magic that had sometimes inundated Lochfeld, but I felt raw fear now. It was the only thing I could sense, actually, and as the soldiers came closer, I made my decision. I’d saved Laurent this time, hadn’t I? If I died, he would be forced to remarry, and perhaps it wouldn’t matter if his next wife was a crownkeeper or not. Perhaps I’d only been fated to meet him to save his life in Windersay.
“I told Thomas the magic is limited to Lochfeld,” I whispered to my feet, “and I thought I had spoken the truth. But I was wrong. It’s the Kingdom of Meirdre it protects. Meirdre and her sovereign. I cannot serve you, even if I wished.” I lifted my head and met his stare. “And I do not wish.”
If he felt rage, I couldn’t see it in his expression.
“I see,” he replied, his voice level. “So, you have betrayed me.”
I knew I should stop talking before I made things worse. But then, could there possibly be a worse situation than the one I was currently in? I wasn’t escaping, that much was certain, and that meant—that meant Damir needed to know exactly how I felt about him.
I steadied my feet. “My loyalty was never to you, sir.”
For a long while, he said nothing.
“No? I suppose I should have expected nothing less from a Meirdrean peasant girl.” His lips twisted in a sort of cruel smile. “You have made your decision. You shall die as your husband should have.”
Before I could imagine how that would be, the soldiers grabbed me and flung me to my knees in front of the fountain. I screamed and kicked and tried to stand, but they spread my arms to my sides and held me, throat-first, against the stone. My fingertips clawed against the stone, but their weight and the position in which they held me was too powerful to fight. Images of the night the executioner had chained me to the whipping block in the dungeon of Lochfeld flooded my mind, but this time—this time I wouldn’t survive.
Damir pushed my hair to the side and stroked the back of my neck with his palm as he knelt beside me.
“Laurent is in pursuit, no doubt,” he whispered into my ear, drawing a chill down my spine. “And I will be kind enough to let him find your body here. Give him something to bring back to Meirdre and mourn—do not think I cannot show some mercy to him. Maybe, if he searches long enough, he might even find your head as well.”
I choked down a cry as the surrounding darkness grew. It didn’t make sense. The moon hadn’t set yest
erday until well into the morning, which meant it shouldn’t be gone now, so soon before sunrise. Was this what sheer terror did to a soul?
A breeze brushed over my skin as he stood and unsheathed his sword. I pressed my mouth against the stone to hide my sobs and closed my eyes as the shadows turned to a glittering gold brilliance. Finally, there was the sunrise that I’d prayed would bring hope. Moonlight or not, I wouldn’t die in darkness at least, and that was something. Executed on a clear night was a traitor’s death at home. Dying in the light, that I could handle. Laurent would be relieved when he learned how it had happened. He would understand what it meant to me—and to him.
“What is it they say in Meirdre?” Damir asked. “Godspeed into eternity? Well, it’ll have to do.”
It wasn’t what they said in the least, but I could scarcely remember what they did say, for the sun’s heat on my back had turned to fire as he spoke. I flinched into the stone, more at the hope welling up than at the sword I knew he’d raised above his head. I opened my eyes, and my breath caught at the familiar shimmering glow that bathed the courtyard in light.
The sword whistled through the air.
I tensed as my teeth slid against each other, my muscles so painful that death would be a blessing. But it was shattered metal, cool and smooth and tiny, that fell against the back of my neck like rain. What didn’t wind up tangled in my hair cascaded to the sand beside me. Glitter, like some of my visions had been. I turned my head to the side just as the hilt bounced harmlessly off my hip and landed on the ground. The glow faded as it did, leaving me with an aching head—but one which was still attached to my body.
