Pointy nibbled his lower lip. “I want to believe you. Please, Nathaniel. Let’s not waste nine more years on this.”
Nathan hung his head. “I swear, I haven’t used anything. I want to, but I haven’t.”
“You still want it, even now that you’re with her?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Nathaniel.” Pointy’s eyebrows pulled together. “I realise you’ve seen and experienced some things that have been difficult to handle. I haven’t been around, and neither has the apothecary. That changes now. From here on, I’m always available. You come to me, and you talk to me about these things whenever you need to. Just don’t shut me out. Let the people who love you help you.”
Nathan nodded, but the heaviness remained clamped around his stomach. “What if she hates me for this?”
Pointy snorted. “Carabelle won’t ever hate you. She loves you, stupid. I doubt she’d abandon you over this. The people, however. They’re a different story altogether. You hurt our queen, and you’ll have an entire nation hate you.”
“It won’t ever happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
Nathan grasped Pointy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.”
Pointy’s mouth curved up. “So am I.”
They were quiet as Nathan tended Pointy’s other wounds.
This had gone better than he’d expected. Pointy was angry, but at least he hadn’t shouted that much. Yet, there was something terrifying in the quiet anger that still seeped from him.
He took this as a personal betrayal, and he was right. Nathan had sworn and broken too many oaths.
Would Cara shout, or would the same still fury cause her to resent Nathan?
“When—” Nathan cleared his throat. “When are you going to tell Cara?”
Pointy pursed his lips, then shook his head. “We can tell her in the morning. She’s so looking forward to the festivities tonight, but you can’t be there with the smoke and substances.”
“We?”
“You’ll be there.”
“Thank you,” Nathan said.
“I don’t know that you should thank me.” Pointy laughed. “We’re talking about a woman who basically gouged out her enemy’s eye last night.”
Nathan sat on the bed while he waited for Pointy to get dressed. “She told me she wishes she’d pulled the trigger.”
“I got that idea.”
“I’ve never seen her this confident.”
Pointy smiled, and his pale eyes lit up. “She’s becoming a queen. The world will bow to her.”
Or the crown would crush her. Cara hadn’t wanted this fate—she’d said so hundreds of times. Then, that morning, she just changed her mind? What had happened to her in the castle to change her so much?
Maybe Nathan should have asked her about it, maybe he should have let her share her hurts and experiences, instead of seducing her.
The guilt pressed on him from all sides. He’d used her to soothe his own demons, and that after she’d specifically said she’d wanted to stop. After all she’d been through. She still hadn’t spoken about that night in the valley, not to anyone, as far as he knew. She’d escaped only to be force-fed a highly addictive drug so her brother could control her. Then, Nic. She’d been coerced to let him touch her, kiss her, also against her will.
No wonder she’d lost so much weight—it had nothing to do with the sedative.
Cara was still in shock. She’d even bloody said so during surgery.
Nathan should have listened. He’d been no better than Frank.
Eventually, what had happened with Celestine would catch up with her, and then what? Would she crash? Would she break down?
He had to do better by her. He had to help her and let her help him. They were in the same position.
“You’re finally getting it, aren’t you?” Sweat beaded on Pointy’s forehead. “She needs you more than ever.”
Nathan touched his fingers to Pointy’s cheek. The skin was too hot, red with something other than anger. “How long have you had this fever?”
“About an hour, but I don’t know that I can trust you to get the medicine I need.”
Nathan nodded. “You can, but I’ll prove that to you over time. I’ll send Marc.”
The boy’s head popped into the tent. “On it.”
“While we wait,” Nathan said, “maybe you should tell me about this torture? Are you all right?”
“I’m Jacques Du Pont. I have to be.”
“Not around your best friend.”
“I’m afraid I might lose my best friend. He’s got this habit, you see. It tends to tear him from me.” A vein bulged in Pointy’s forehead. Fresh tears fell onto his knees. “I thought I was going to die.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“You tended the wounds, didn’t you?”
“There’s more to what happened than the physical side.”
Pointy shuddered as he lay down on the table. “The torture was bearable. The threats were bearable. I’ve been trained for that. What sent me over the edge was when Celestine told me what she was planning to do to Carabelle.”
Chapter 46
Sparks rose from the enormous bonfire the Dvarans had built in the middle of camp. They’d moved a number of tents to make space, and now danced around the flames to songs in their native tongue, barefoot and buzzed. They’d braided bright ribbons into their hair and had changed out of their armour into plain-hued linen tunics and trousers.
Cara sat with Vendla, just on the edge of the dancing area. The firelight coloured the scene in oranges and reds and scented the night with smoke.
The bears, some of them also decorated with ribbons, feasted on fish to the far side of the bonfire. Whenever people passed the bears, they bowed. A handful of bears were absent, Vendla had said. Pregnant ones, or new mothers with their cubs. Would travelling with cubs be difficult?
“The ribbons are for Vanadis,” Vendla said. “Goddess of fertility.”
Cara nodded. Strange how light her head felt now, how easy it was to nod. Were her actions exaggerated because she no longer had to move the weight of her hair?
Nathan had promised his hands in her hair, but he and Pointy were taking their time. What kept them?
All day, an odd heaviness had entered her stomach whenever Pointy had glanced her way. Almost like guilt, as though she’d done something wrong. But she was just worried about him. Obviously. He’d been through so much.
Illuna was no more than a sliver of light, a day or so away from new moon, but Lusina was still a thicker sickle. The stars shone brighter than usual, and Cara lost herself in their sparkling depths. Soon, she’d return to Aelland, to the swirling and twisting Mantle.
How she’d miss the sky.
“There’s Olaf.” Vendla waved to the left. “He’s starting the final preparations for the night. Once his body is covered in runes, we’ll begin.”
Olaf’s white-blond beard was the only part of him not painted in blue. He walked around, naked and blue, and periodically added a black rune to his skin. The leather cord around his neck, and the string of wooden charms it carried, were splotched in paint. He held a paintbrush in one hand, and a bundle of smouldering grass and dried herbs in the other, and raised it high, then brought it low, then high, then low, so the smoke danced with the people.
Where Olaf passed, the people inhaled the smoke, smiling, laughing.
“Look.” Vendla pointed at a group of instrumentalists.
Some banged on drums, others blew into long, wooden instruments that made a low-key buzzing sound. Men sang along in deep, thrumming voices, and a woman with a blond braid hanging over each shoulder sang a countermelody in a voice so clear, it seemed impossible.
“That used to be my favourite song.” Vendla closed her eyes and drummed her fingers to the beat. “It’s about young love. My husband sang it to me on our wedding day.”
Cara smiled. “You should teach it to me one day.”
Ven
dla’s gaze was keen. “So I shall.”
Olaf passed by Vendla and Cara, and the sweet-smelling smoke caressed her cheeks. The edges of her vision softened.
The corners of Vendla’s mouth flicked up. “Some advice, dragonling. Hold your breath until Olaf is well past. If you inhale too much of the smoke, you’ll get drunk on it and have a terrible headache in the morning.”
“Everybody else has been inhaling it,” Cara said. “You do.”
Vendla nodded. “We have bears.”
Cara frowned.
“The bears are the messengers of the gods,” Vendla said. “When we breathe the herbs, our minds clear enough that we might understand the will of the gods, and by touching our bears, we can enter their halls, and see what the future holds for us. Once the bear breaks contact, we return to our bodies, and can share what it is we learned from the journey.”
“That sounds incredible.”
Vendla’s eyebrows twitched. “You continue to surprise me. Your brother thinks so little of our religion and customs.”
Cara hugged herself and rubbed her arms. “Frank didn’t used to be like he is now.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He was wild.” Cara smiled. “Passionate. Always ready with a joke. He was one of those people who could light a room just by entering it, who could inspire you with a few words. Once, he even dreamed of becoming a farmer.”
“A farmer? Francois.”
“It was all an act, though. Tailored specifically for me. His innocent baby sister. I think he’s always loved playing and manipulating.” She shuddered, then rubbed her arms. “And lately, I think Sera knew he couldn’t be trusted, but tried on my behalf.”
Vendla put a hand on Cara’s back. “How are you at the game?”
“Sera taught me, but I’ve never really had the opportunity to practice.”
“You’ll practice on me.”
“I thought Dvarans didn’t play,” Cara said.
Vendla snorted. “I hate the game, but every other ruler in Ehrdia plays at court. I’d be at a loss if I didn’t know the rules, don’t you think?”
Cara smiled. “I suppose.”
“Here comes Olaf. Big breath.”
He approached on halting feet, with a few more runes added to his paint.
Cara inhaled and held her breath until Olaf had passed.
Vendla’s expression softened, and she blinked a time or two. She smiled when she met Cara’s gaze.
“How does it feel?” Cara pulled a chunk of hair behind her ear.
“Like a dream.” Vendla tilted back her head. “Like a time when all was right in the world.”
Cara could use some of that. Her nape tingled, and her stomach was tight. This dream would be short-lived. How would Frank react when Cara walked out of Collinefort with the Dvarans behind her? Not well. He was probably livid after her letter. He’d strike back.
“You’re worried, Carabelle.”
“I’m afraid of what Frank will do.”
“Tonight is not for worries,” Vendla said. “We’ll have enough of that in the near future.”
“All right.” Yet the tightness remained.
Vendla became more relaxed each time Olaf passed, and the night grew darker and colder, but the fire’s radiance kept their faces warm. The people danced and sang, the instruments played, and they shared bread and ale and vegetables.
Sven threw back his head and laughed when Cara had her first sip of Dvaran ale and could barely swallow the sour liquid.
“Just like Ylva.” Tears streaked Sven’s face. “Blessed Ehrd, I miss that girl.”
“As do I, boy.” Vendla’s eyes reflected small fires. “As do I.”
That was the second time someone had likened Cara to Ylva. Was it her face? Her personality?
“You have a million questions in your expression, Carabelle of Mordoux.” Vendla rolled up her sleeves. “Ask me while you can. Tomorrow, I’ll be a grumpy old hag—yes, even more than usual—and I’ll bite at anyone who comes near me. Talk while the smoke brings me joy.”
Cara toyed with the ends of her hair. “Why do people keep comparing me to your daughter?”
One of the tears hovering on Vendla’s eyelid slipped away and plopped onto her tunic. “You look like her. Not the face. No, she resembled me, just prettier. Less worn. Her eyes were big, like yours. Doe-eyes, in deep silver. That and the golden hair she got from her father.
“But she was small, like you. Moved like you. Graceful and fluid as an octopus. Her every move was a dance. She was compassionate like you. Always bringing some or another animal back from the brink of death with herbs and poultices. And when she smiled”—Vendla touched Cara’s chin with her forefinger, and Cara smiled—“the world lit up.”
“Was she your youngest child?”
Vendla nodded. “My baby—which is why she died. Her siblings protected her, not like my other daughters, who were as big as the boys, and could wrestle as well as the boys. Ylva grew, but we kept her an infant. Never forced her to learn how to fight like the others. She could have wielded a knife instead of an axe, but no. We were there to protect her.” She shook her head. “Until we weren’t.”
Cara took Vendla’s hand. “How did she die?”
Vendla’s hand went rigid in Cara’s. “The emperor’s men had their fun with her. We couldn’t even save her body.”
If they’d done to Ylva what they’d tried to do to her— Cara’s heart fossilised. Nobody deserved to die like that.
“I wasn’t always hard,” Vendla said. “You wouldn’t believe it, but I used to dance wildest of all around the fires, used to sing loudest. We had a happy home. The throne of Dvara wasn’t for me, not with my brother ahead of me, so I was able to focus on being a mother. I was a good mother. A good wife.
“I can’t even say I became hard when the butcher came. Daiki, he was called. One of Sanshouo’s generals. Gutted him like a fish in the end, but by then I’d already become what I am now.
“Maybe that’s why I like you so much, Carabelle. You remind me of a time when I was bright and warm and had eyes full of questions. Like Ylva. Maybe I can help you become a queen who remains that way. One who doesn’t need to harden her heart to survive this bloody war. I wanted that for Varda, but it’s too late for her. She’s already cut herself off, like she saw me cut myself off.
“I lost her today.” Vendla’s mouth went slack, and she breathed hard. “I knew I would, but—”
Cara shifted closer and put her arm around Vendla.
“I love that girl, but she’s always been too stubborn. We both are. We had to become this way to survive, but I wonder if it was worth surviving without each other.” Vendla wept awhile, then sighed and dried her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Cara said.
“Ah, sweet girl. This is our divine fate. Mother against daughter. Sisters against brother. This is why I had to harden my heart. I’ll be your shield, so you don’t have to.”
Cara lowered her head onto Vendla’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’re hard.”
Vendla chuckled. “No? Wait until tomorrow.”
“You’re like Magnus,” Cara said. “You don’t smile as much—except when you’re drunk on smoke. But you’re open, like him.”
“You love this Magnus a great deal.”
“I never had a father, not until I met him.”
Vendla pulled Cara’s head into her lap and caressed her hair. “I’d like to meet him.”
“I think he’d like that.” Let him be alive. Let him be safe.
Memories of Magnus flooded her: his voice, his blue eyes, his tobacco scent. The warmth of his hugs and the deep vibrations of his voice. Her father. Maybe being with Vendla this way was what it would have been like to have a mother.
If Magnus was Cara’s Monolith, Vendla could be her Mantle.
Where were Nathan and Pointy? The niggling feeling she’d had all night waved its arms and shouted for attention.
Cara squashed it down. At s
ome stage, she’d have to stop doing that, and deal with the turmoil hidden beneath ideas of dragons and queens and fire. Once they reached Aelland and she’d warned Sera—she’d deal with everything then.
Olaf passed by again, now completely covered in runes. He hurled the remainder of his herbs into the fire and lifted his hands to the sky.
The wind picked up, hard and cold, and far on the horizon, a band of pale light seemed to twist and move.
“What is that?” Cara pointed at the lights.
“Fox fires,” Vendla said.
The bears moved away from the area where they’d gorged themselves on fish and paired off to mate. They slipped in behind the tents, and their keening sounded from all over the camp.
“In the wild, this happens differently.” Vendla covered a yawn with her fingers. “They are solitary creatures, and vicious. Males will kill and eat females and small cubs. They have to build trust, and mate for up to a week once that trust is built.
“The pairs that form tonight will also continue to mate for about a week, but since they have all been tamed and trained in the ways of the gods, they don’t need all the precautions they’d have taken in the wild.”
“How many will have cubs?”
“About a quarter, but they always have twins. Skjold will have three.”
Skjold was still in the area where the bears had waited, but a male came closer, sniffed her.
“Ah, of course it would be Asger.” Vendla shook her head. “The elders of the group. Neither will mate again. I doubt Asger will live to see these cubs born.”
“Did you see three cubs in a vision?” Cara asked.
Vendla nodded. “In that vision, I also saw my alliance with you. That’s the vision that showed me you’re really a dragon.”
Cara shuddered and drew her shoulders together. The wind had turned vengeful. It had to be about three o’clock, but she wanted to stay, to see the visions. The fox fires crept closer, now green and pink and purple, ribbons of light that reached up and down, up and down, like Olaf and the others had danced around the fire.
If ribbons symbolised the goddess of fertility, maybe the heavens danced in divine benediction.
Vendla regarded her with a warm smile. “More questions?” She was so different under the smoke’s influence. So calm, willing to chat.
A Trial of Sparks & Kindling (Fall of the Mantle Book 2) Page 36
