White Hart (White Hart series #1)

by Sarah Dalton

I inwardly cringe. We can make Cas look like an urchin, but he still sounds like a prince. We never thought about that before we entered the camp.

  “A flock of birds you say? The aciflights, perhaps? Were you burned by them?” Allerton asks.

  Cas nods.

  “Yes, nasty little creatures. They have a poison, which is a lot like what people in Cyne city call acid. It burns the skin on touch.” His eyes examine me, trailing over my face, looking for evidence, for scarring. “But I see you both healed well.”

  “I’m trained some in medicine,” I say quietly, forcing the words out. “I made poultices.”

  “Very clever,” Allerton says as he breaks open a bread roll. “Very clever indeed. And what else did you encounter in the woods?”

  He is testing us, trying to get us to open up so that he can fish for information. The more we talk, the more likely we are to slip up. He doesn’t believe our story and never has.

  “A wood nymph,” I say.

  “And yet here you are to tell the tale.” Allerton raises his eyebrows in over-exaggerated surprise. “Not many can say that after facing a wood nymph.”

  “No, she was difficult to reason with,” I admit, trying not to stray too far from the truth. “Luckily, Olef is strong enough to see through her… guise.” The irony of the words hit me as I say them. Allerton also notices, because the corners of his mouth turn up in satisfaction.

  “Imagine that,” he says, chewing on bread covered with preserves. “Now, youngsters. You haven’t eaten a single morsel, and yet you must still be recovering from your trials in the woods. Please, help yourselves.”

  I lean across the table and take a handful of yellow berries. It takes almost all my willpower to stop my hand from shaking. When I pop one of the berries into my mouth it tastes far bitterer than I had expected, and I force myself to chew on.

  Allerton lets out a chuckle, which sounds more like a feminine giggle. “Tika berries are not as delicious as they look, are they? But they are very good for the heart, so eat on, young Mim.”

  Allerton’s voice is very controlled and even. All of his mannerisms are the same. He moves in fluid motions, never straying from his target. When he chooses food, his eyes lock onto the thing he wants and immediately his arm swoops out towards it. He never lets his gaze move over the table, surveying the delights. He just seems to know. I cannot stop watching him, wondering who he is and how he came to lead the Borgans. When I think about what Sasha said and how the Borgans help the craft-born, bile rises in my throat. How can I think of any of that, when this man most likely killed my father? The tent suddenly seems stifling hot, and I want to be anywhere but sat next to this man.

  “You seem troubled, Mim. I’m sorry, I forget that we have company in the tent.” His gaze directs towards Ellen in her cage. Again, my stomach lurches. “Unfortunately the lovely young lady in the corner has been refusing to cooperate. I would love to release her, but, alas, I cannot for her own safety.”

  “Get knotted!” Ellen shouts from the cage. That’s very much like the Ellen I know and mildly hate.

  Cas stiffens next to me. He’s probably never seen the angry side of his future wife before.

  “What a charming young thing she is,” Allerton says with a heavy sigh. “And to think she is the craft-born herself, the one true saviour of the realm and most possibly more powerful than any of us put together.”

  “Why would you tell us that?” I find myself saying. “Wouldn’t you want to keep that a secret?”

  “I would,” he says. “If I thought it was true. You see, the girl in that cage could have escaped umpteen times over if she was the true craft-born. Not even iron can stop true craft. Some legends of old claim that it diminishes magic, but not for the craft-born—no, they are too powerful for that. No, sadly, it would seem that we have the wrong girl in that cage.”

  I shoot a glance towards Cas, but he is staring pointedly at his hands on the table, with a strange, frozen look on his face.

  “I told you,” Ellen says loudly from her prison. “I haven’t figured out how to use them yet.” She stares at Cas. She knows exactly who he is and why he is here. There is a note of desperation in her voice, one which suggests she is terrified that Cas will turn his back on her if he believes she is not the craft-born after all. “No one has taught me to use my powers. I just know that I have them.”

  Allerton rolls his eyes. “How very dull, my dear. It really is no fun when there’s nothing to play with.” He pouts. “And I have so very much to teach. Yet you won’t even try properly.”

  “Maybe you should start with the basics,” I suggest. “Is there some way to focus on the source of the craft? Where does it come from?” I try to keep my tone neutral, but inside I am abuzz with all kinds of emotions attempting to rupture. I have a desire to lunge at Allerton and wrap my hands around his throat, but at the same time I want to hear what he can teach me. Part of me wants to free Ellen right now, and part of me wants to run away from the tent, from the Borgans and out of the Waerg Woods, never looking back.

  “Well, I suppose I could tell her about how the craft comes from the elements—earth, wind, fire, and water.” He idly polishes a knife with the sleeve of his robes. “You have probably heard that magic was destroyed over the course of many wars throughout the realm, wars that began with humans against magical creatures, and ended up between warlocks and kings. For the most part, magic was destroyed in Aegunlund, but not completely.” He sets down the knife, clears his throat, and clicks his fingers. A tiny flame floats above his thumb. I gasp, and Cas starts. “Warlocks still exist, my dear, but they are not the same as the craft-born, oh no. Oho! No. That is something very different indeed.”

  “What is the craft-born?” I ask.

  “She is the embodiment of magic. Nature exists in all things, and therefore so does the craft. But only the craft-born—the talisman, if you like—can allow the magic to flow through all things. Without the craft-born, it remains clogged, caught in the throat of the world.” He shrugs. “Perhaps it is our curse for killing the Ancients.”

  “Who were they?” I ask.

  “Those who existed before us. Those for whom the magic simply was. Those who never needed a talisman, who were all craft-born.”

  “So how can you perform magic?” I say.

  “When the craft-born exists, warlocks are strengthened by the surge of power throughout the realm. When she comes to her full strength, the craft-born can use the four elements to bend to her own will. She can make nature do whatever she wants.” He leans in as he speaks, and I smell the hint of root vegetables on his breath, like sweet soil. His amber eyes glow bright. With a flick of his wrist, he gestures back to Ellen and snarls. “This creature cannot make anything bend to her will, nor can I bend her to mine. We are at an impasse. A pointless and predictable impasse. Halts-Walden ransacked for no reason; the prince lost for nothing. Just a silly little girl who lied to be queen.”

  Cas’s eyes widen, and I see him turn to Ellen. When he does, I try to catch Ellen’s attention, shaking my head very slightly. She has tears in her eyes, and if she allows herself to show weakness now, she will show Cas that she is not the craft-born after all, and I will have to admit to my lies. I can’t let that happen. Not now. Not after everything.

  When Ellen has composed herself, I turn back to Allerton. This time, my skin feels as though it is on fire. “What happened in Halts-Walden?”

  He flaps an arm, and his sleeves ripple. “Oh, a disaster. I sent my men in to retrieve the craft-born, only some idiot beggar man got in their way. I almost lost one of my guards, and they had to kill the man, as well as two of the prince’s bodyguards. It was a terrible mess.”

  I’m on my feet before Cas can clutch my arm. The guards step forward with their swords drawn. Allerton laughs in his hideous giggle, because he knows he has won. He knows he has revealed us for who we truly are. I don’t care. I can hardly see the room because of the mist that has fallen over my eyes. I see nothing
but fat Allerton laughing at me and laughing at the death of my father.

  “He was worth fifty of you.” The words come out through my clenched teeth. My fists grip the tablecloth.

  “Who, dear?” Allerton says. “The beggar we killed? Oh my, well, that would mean that you are not from Fordrencan at all, are you? Sit down, dear.” He dabs his mouth with a napkin.

  I want to wipe that smug smile from his face. He licks his lips and shuffles deeper into his seat, composing himself, waiting for me to sit. Well, I won’t. Eventually one of the guards forces me back into the chair.

  “So you have come to help your friend,” he says. “Such a shame you were found out.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “The first rule in trying to trick someone is to never underestimate your victim. It would seem you forgot that rule, dear Mim. Now, would you care to tell me your real name?”

  I do not speak. I’m half aware of Cas squirming in the seat next to me. I don’t know if Allerton knows he is the crown prince yet. Were the Borgans aware of us being together on the night they attacked our village? I’m not sure. I must keep my wits about me.

  “That’s a pity. I suppose I will have to call you Mim for now.”

  My hands tremble, not from fear but from the red-hot anger which is searing through my veins like a forest fire. It takes all the strength I can muster to stop myself lunging at him.

  Allerton stops smiling, and his features turn sombre. His eyelids lower as he speaks. “I see the resemblance now. You are his daughter. My dear Mim, I am very sorry for your loss. My instructions were quite clear. The guards were to take the girl and not harm the villagers, but I saw it with my own eyes. Dear, your father threw himself at my men like a madman.”

  His words paint the picture I never wanted to see. Now that I know what the guards look like, I can piece together the entire sorry scene. Tears sting my eyes. I won’t let them come. I won’t. I need to hold it together so I can finish this.

  “Why would he do that?” Allerton continues. “Why would he sacrifice his life for someone he isn’t even related to? The prince’s guards had a duty to serve, but why did your father die for that girl over there?” He gestures to Ellen. “It’s so strange.”

  I stare down at my hands, but I can see his golden eyes examining the side of my face. Of course Father died thinking he was protecting me, thinking that the men had come for the craft-born. I can’t tell if Allerton has figured this out yet.

  “So if you are not Mim from Fordrencan,” Allerton says. “Then who is this rather handsome fellow sitting next to you?” He points to Cas with a flourish, and I sense Cas sinking down in his chair. “Stand up, dear. Let’s get a look at you.”

  There’s a slow creak as Cas pushes his chair away. I see two pale hands gripping the edge of the table. I follow those hands to Cas’s ripped and muddied jacket. Despite its wear and tear, you can still clearly see the embroidery on the sleeve. We were fools to think we could disguise ourselves. No one from Halts-Walden would wear a jacket like that. When I meet Cas’s eyes, my heart sinks to see the stark look of fear in them.

  Allerton leans forward and places his chin on his steepled fingers. “You’ve clearly been living in the woods for a while. There is a most definite stench of mud.” He curls up his lip in disgust. “However, those clothes are rather fine.” His eyes narrow, and it is as though I can see the cogs of his brain working out our innermost secrets. I have to do something to stop Cas being discovered.

  I glance over to Ellen, who has her face pressed up against the metal bars with tears streaming down her face. She has the look of someone who has seen victory snatched from her at the last moment. I think of Allerton’s harsh words—saying she is unable to escape on her own. Well, she is not on her own anymore, and I’d love to see the look on his face when she proves him wrong.

  There’s only one thing I can do, one thing that might save us all. I have to let the circus animal out of the cage.

  Chapter Twenty-One – The Craft-Born and the King

  Allerton’s voice drones on as I quietly close my eyes. My head is angled down, looking at my hands so that he does not notice what I’m doing. With my eyes shut, I think of my dreams, those strange dreams where I found myself becoming one with nature. According to Allerton, I can control the elements, and I focus on that ability, that power. I focus on it with all my might.

  The tent falls silent. Next to me, Allerton lets out a small gasp.

  “The power,” I hear him whisper in awe.

  Then something rips through my body, a shudder like nothing I’ve experienced before. My hair lifts from the back of my neck. It flies before my eyes as a powerful wind sweeps through the tent, rattling the table and pushing us all back. I fall backwards, landing next to Cas on the carpeted floor.

  The wind picks up books, papers, and curtains, throwing them around the tent. The guards fall backwards, shielding their eyes from the force of the wind. Using my focus, I direct the wind towards Ellen’s cell and, with all my might, blow the door straight off the hinges. Ellen—a girl who never misses an opportunity when she sees it—stands up straight as she walks out of the cage. I move the wind back, so that it will not knock her over, and allow her to walk freely, with just her hair batting around her face. She keeps an expression of complete control on her face, playing the part well. She glances at me once, and I nod just a little to let her know that it’s me.

  When she has walked to the centre of the tent, I get onto my feet and pull Cas up. Allerton stands, and I force the wind back at him, knocking him against the tent wall, which unsteadies the structure. The tent is beginning to implode on itself, and we need to get out before we are stuck beneath the heavy sheets of canvas. This is our only chance to escape.

  “We have to go,” I say.

  Ellen reaches across and takes Cas’s hand. They run through the tent together.

  My powers are draining. This is the most I’ve ever used them, and I don’t know how long they will last. We burst out of the tent back into the campsite. In the distance, Ellen and Cas continue to run through the camp until I can no longer see them, and for a moment, I freeze. With a sick feeling, I realise that they have left me behind. They have left the camp together, without even checking that I’m with them. How could they?

  Allerton is not far behind me, making me all too aware of his presence. I feel his eyes on my back. I want to follow Cas and Ellen out of the camp, but the dagger burns next to my leg. It longs to be used, to be thrust into the gut of that fat, smug man.

  I turn back.

  I reach down and pull the dagger from my boot. Allerton’s eyes grow wide as he sees it. The wind circles us, sending his robe into a flutter of black, twisting my cape around my neck. I shrug it off. I step forward, clutching the dagger.

  “I know it’s you,” he says. “I knew it the moment I saw you. The others may be fooled, but I am not. They may think you are an average little girl, without anything special, but I see you for what you really are, and that is powerful.”

  I grip the hilt of the dagger. “I don’t care what you think. You’re a murderer!”

  Allerton shakes his head. There’s a hint of sadness in his shining eyes, a hint of regret. “No one was supposed to get hurt. I’m sorry about your father. I truly am.”

  The sincerity in his voice makes me falter. I steel myself and take a step closer. “This is a trick. You just want to live.”

  “The truth is that you need me,” he shouts through the wind. “You need me to help you control your power. Look around you. Look what you have done.”

  It’s only then that I see the hurricane ripping through the camp, tearing the roofs from the huts, knocking people from their feet. The shock staggers me. I try to focus on calming the wind, but it won’t. It simply carries on with its destruction.

  “Make it stop!” I yell. “Make it turn off!”

  “It’s not a switch, Mim,” Allerton says. “Your emotions are too high. You are letting your grief co
ntrol you and your power. You need to calm yourself deep within.”

  “I can’t.” My voice is drowned by the howling winds. “I can’t do it.” I turn back to Allerton and step forward. “It’s because I came here to avenge my father’s death. The only thing that will work is killing you.”

  A freezing cold sensation spreads over my skin, finally cooling the red-hot rage. I take two steps closer to Allerton, holding out my dagger. His guards are still trapped beneath the collapsed tent. The rest of the camp are too busy running for their lives to stop me. This is it. This is the moment I have been waiting for, the moment I promised to my dead father that I would fulfil. It is time to kill the man responsible for his death, to finally deliver justice. I move closer and place the dagger at his throat. Allerton’s golden eyes widen in shock, and he lifts his hands in surrender.

  “Mae!” A familiar voice jolts me out of my spell. Sasha stands behind Allerton, her red hair whipped up by the wind. “Mae, don’t do this.”

  “So your allegiance is to them,” I spit. “I thought you would turn on us eventually.”

  “No, Mae, it’s not. Don’t do this, because if you do, you will change. If you take a person’s life… There’s no coming back. I don’t want that to happen to you,” she pleads.

  I swallow and turn back to Allerton. His mouth is open in shock, and his forehead is lifted and wrinkled. His eyes beseech me. He has no weapon, and no way of fighting back. All around us, the wind continues to howl in a terrible wail of despair.

  This is not how I imagined delivering justice. This is not what I thought it would be like. I thought it would be heroic and passionate, not sleazy and pathetic. The winds howl louder, and I finally realise why. They are my tears. The wind is doing what I could not. It is grieving.

  I drop the knife to the ground. Allerton staggers backwards. My knees collapse from beneath me as I do the one thing I said I would never do. I can’t stop it. It’s like a force I have never experienced before, stronger than the wind ever was, and it hits me so hard that I’m on my knees in the soil.