by Sam Farren
The back legs of her chair scraped as she rushed to her feet.
“Eos!” Svir said loudly from the entrance hall. “Gods, woman. We were just talking about you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Castelle made it to the doorway in time to see Eos grab Svir by her collar and charge across the length of the entrance hall in search of a wall to throw her against. Eos’ hair had come loose, dirt covered her face, and Svir’s poison dart was the last good night’s sleep she’d got.
“Hak!” Svir said, followed by a string of Y’vish Eos could barely keep up with. “—the sling, the sling! Don’t you see the sling, Eos?”
Eos tightened her fists in Svir’s collar and slammed her against the wall again.
“I found you,” Eos breathed.
“Oh, well done,” Svir said, shoving Eos with her good arm. “You found me at my house, which you have visited hundreds of time. Bravo, sweetheart.”
Eos sneered, not letting go.
Eos had killed King Mykos. She’d taken a blade to a royal throat and she hadn’t spent a moment regretting it. She’d washed the blood from her hands and sailed away to Fenroe, accepting her punishment. It’d been worth it. She’d killed the King, killed a distant relative.
Castelle didn’t recoil at the sight of her.
Eos hadn’t changed. Eos was Eos, and the truth of her hadn’t been realigned when Castelle learnt something history had already set into stone.
Brackish glowed at Eos’ hip. Fear didn’t rise in Castelle, only the soft realisation that Eos was her way out, and she’d never once held that over her head.
“Where is she?” Eos asked, voice quiet and hard.
Svir tilted her head to the side with a sneer.
Eos’ grasp loosened as she looked Castelle’s way. Castelle placed a hand on the doorframe and didn’t forget how to speak, how to call for help, but knew she didn’t need to. Her lips parted, but she said nothing as Eos let go of Svir’s collar, pushed her against the wall, and crossed the hall.
“Eos,” Castelle said.
“I—” Eos started, only to be interrupted by a soft meow.
Rhy gathered all his courage to scuttle out between Castelle’s feet. Eos knelt down, held out her hands, and the cat hurried into them.
Picking him up, Eos said, “Hello, Rhyolite. Have you been behaving?”
The cat trilled, rubbing the top of his head against Eos’ jawline.
The tension between Svir and Eos fizzled out. Pushing herself off the wall, Svir approached the pair of them, and Tanen finally pulled theirself away from their lunch.
“Hey, E,” they said, slinging an arm around Eos’ shoulders and ducking down to kiss her cheek. “You know your boy Rhy’s been good as gold. Me, though, gods, I ain’t never keeping out of trouble.”
They pointed between theirself, Svir, and Castelle. Eos frowned, but didn’t push them away.
“Tanen,” Svir said, without any real bite behind it. “Take Castelle back to her room.”
“Don’t,” Eos said. “Let her leave.”
“Don’t do this to me, guys,” Tanen said, hopping back and holding their hands up. “I love you both so much. Don’t make me choose between you.”
Castelle couldn’t take her eyes off Eos. She stood amongst the turmoil, cat in one hand, unfazed by Svir standing behind her. There was so much of the world Castelle didn’t understand, but this was chief among them; now that Eos knew she was safe, Castelle had never seen her so calm.
Eos had always frozen at her touch, yet she’d let Tanen wrap an around her and kiss her face. She’d relaxed into it.
“Many thanks for the sympathy and careful-handling, by the way. I took an arrow to my shoulder, but never mind that,” Svir said, walking between Eos and Tanen. “Come. I suppose it’s come down to this, hasn’t it? We’d better talk.”
Svir headed for a living room, curtly asked its current inhabitants to find somewhere else to laze around, and Tanen followed her in. Not wanting to be left out of anything that revolved solely around her, Castelle hurried after them.
She didn’t get far.
Eos grabbed her hand, stopping her.
“You are safe?” Eos asked. “You are not hurt?”
Castelle faltered. She had more questions than ever for Eos, but none rose to the surface.
All she could do was squeeze Eos’ hand and head into the living room.
Svir had taken an armchair and Tanen was on the floor, arms folded across a low coffee table. Castelle sat on one side of the sofa opposite them and Eos sat at the other, Rhyolite kneading her lap as he got comfortable.
“Are you really not going to say anything about this?” Svir asked, pointing to her shoulder. “I’m hurt, Eos. Physically and emotionally. I’ve known you your entire life, and yet there isn’t a single word of concern.”
“You are fine,” Eos said. “Also, you used a tranquiliser on me and left me in the dirt. I am not particularly sympathetic, right now.
Tanen turned to Svir, mouthing something along the lines of what the fuck is wrong with you? Svir shrugged and settled into the chair, clicking her tongue every time she tried to use her injured arm.
“I see we’re at something of an impasse. You abducted the Princess and wish to take her to—Yarrin, wasn’t it? For a heart-warming family reunion and whatnot,” Svir said. “And I abducted the Princess, fair-and-square, for financial gain. Not quite as sappy, but certainly far more practical.
“Had I not been shot in the shoulder, I would’ve concluded business and we wouldn’t have this problem. Instead, I was forced to return home, prize in tow, and here you are. Did I ever mention what a terrible inconvenience being shot in the shoulder is? Have you ever been shot in the shoulder, Eos?”
“No. I can still use both of my hands,” Eos warned.
Svir rolled her eyes.
Tanen, chin rested on the backs of their arms, looked to Castelle for a reaction. The way Svir spoke of her had turned her tongue to ash. She was a commodity, something to be traded back and forth; whosoever had stolen her held all rights to her.
She knitted her fingers together. At the other end of the sofa, Rhyolite was fast asleep in Eos’ lap.
“I think I see the problem here,” Svir said.
“I think we all see the problem here,” Tanen said.
Eos waited for Svir’s explanation.
“You’re upset. I stole Tanen from you, and you resent that,” Svir said. “And now I’ve taken the latest stray from your collection.”
“You didn’t steal Tanen from me. I am glad they’re here. You keep them sober,” Eos said.
“Eighteen months,” Tanen added, punching the air.
“I am surprised. I thought you better than this, Svir,” Eos continued. “You have always made your way as a thief, but the people you have hunted have always been genuine criminals. They have always stood trial. When you came to Llyne in your search, I thought you motivated by some morals. That this was personal to you, that you thought there was justice in it, no matter how wrongly. But it is all about money.”
“First of all, I resent the suggestion I have morals,” Svir said, listing the points on her fingers. “Secondly, it’s absolutely about money. Have you seen this house? Do you know how many people I have to provide for? I have a score of people living here at any one time, I have my wife, your cat, your Tanen. Thirdly, I thought you would understand this better than anyone. Exchanging one life to provide for many others. That’s your whole thing, isn’t it?”
Eos gripped the arm of her seat.
“It isn’t the same,” was all she said.
Svir’s eyes flashed, something brilliant and cruel burning behind them, and Castelle found her voice again.
“It’s beyond unsettling to be spoken of as though I’m not here. Or worse still, as though I matter so little that anything can be said in front of me. You and Eos clearly have a history. I don’t think it’s wrong to call you friends. Surely there’s some sort of agree
ment you can come to, Svir,” Castelle said.
Svir nodded and said, “You’re right. I owe Eos a lot. How about this: if Eos leaves quietly, and/or stays out of my way, I won’t have Tanen kill her where she’s sitting?”
“Yeah, uh, boss? I ain’t doing that,” Tanen said.
“Svir. Listen to me,” Eos said. “When you came to Fenroe, you did not know more than a dozen words of the language, yet you joined the rebellion. You knew which side to fight on, and you risked yourself for people who weren’t your own. For people who scorned Yricians. You may be a thief, you may have killed, but I never thought you the sort to wilfully involve yourself in human trafficking.”
Groaning, Svir said, “It sounds so dirty when you put it like that. But what else am I to do? I did this for you, Eos. You do realise that, don’t you? The Princess of Fenroe, the last Greyser heir, set to throw the archipelago back into disarray—and there you were, travelling with her. Gods, woman. I thought her one and the same as all the other Greysers, as those who called themselves our rulers. I believed she must have tricked you, must have been an actor of frightful standing, but then—
“Oh, then I met her, and knew I couldn’t go through with it. And if word of this leaves the room, I shall not be kind to any of you. I have a reputation, Eos. I cannot let her go on a whim, and I really do have a household to run. I have no intention of selling Castelle, for she does seem to be a sweet girl. I was hoping that if I stuck to my plan, I would stumble on a better one. I can’t just give her to you. I didn’t get shot in the shoulder for nothing, Eos.”
“Anyone else get the feeling Svir might’ve been shot in the shoulder?” Tanen muttered.
Eos pressed her lips together. Rhyolite stirred in her lap and she rubbed the back of his neck, deep in thought. She wouldn’t have barged into Svir’s house without a plan.
Only Eos could act, could get her out of this. Castelle hadn’t even picked up that teapot and smashed the window. She hadn’t tried. When it came down to it, she’d helped Svir up and carried her into the city, choosing to step into her house. She’d made that decision. She could’ve left her on her doorstep, if all she wanted was the truth, but she didn’t know what to do without someone pushing and pulling her.
Brackish was dull at Eos’ side. It wasn’t her spirit pushing the thoughts through Castelle’s head, the bile into her throat. She hadn’t tried! She’d gone where she was told to and she’d curled up in the first bed she’d seen.
What would she have done, had she got out of the window? Where would she have gone? She had no money, nothing but the clothes on her back, and they’d been bought by Eos. She’d never had to navigate the world on her own. She’d spent her life in carriages, surrounded by soldiers, on horseback, following carefully constructed paths. She’d never wandered anywhere of her own accord, had never followed a map.
No wonder her chest had tightened when she’d seen Eos. No wonder she was so willing to let go of so much of her bloody past.
She couldn’t go anywhere without her. She’d never get to Layla, without Eos’ help.
That’s all it was.
That’s all it was.
“Here,” Eos said, reaching into her shirt.
“If that’s a knife, that’s incredibly dirty,” Svir said.
Eos had no hidden blade.
What she retrieved shone in the sunlight speared through the window.
A white-gold chain hung from Eos’ hand, and a diamond surrounded by two-dozen emeralds twisted at the bottom of it. Svir snatched it from Eos before she understood what it was.
Castelle pressed a hand to her chest. Eos mouthed the word sorry to her.
“Gods, woman. You’ve really been holding out on me, haven’t you?” Svir asked, snapping her fingers.
Tanen hit their knee on the coffee table in their hurry to get up, understanding the gesture well enough to run from the room, slam several cabinet drawers, and return with a loupe to inspect the jewels.
Eos had taken more than Brackish from the temple. That’s what she’d said. So much of what her fathers had collected were trinkets from the surrounding settlements, taken under the guise of gifts freely given in honour of the Princess’ birthday, or to commemorate the day she arrived on Laister.
They’d brought things with them from Torshval, the rings on their fingers, the chains around their necks, but this was different. This wasn’t theirs.
It had belonged to Ava Greyser, commissioned to celebrate her coronation. Her entire outfit had been designed around the piece, and a dozen portraits by a dozen painters hung in the castle, all of them centring on the necklace.
But as it so often was with Greysers, Ava Greyser had lived a long, healthy life, and she’d been adorned with hundreds of pieces of jewellery, each more extravagant than the last. In contrast, the necklace Eos handed Svir held little more than sentimental value.
Castelle’s mother had given it to her on her tenth birthday, after showing her each and every painting dedicated to it. Castelle wore it every day. Marigold poked fun at her, saying it would lose what made it special if she wore it to every piano lesson and informal family dinner, but Castelle didn’t care.
Her family’s history was in that diamond. She grasped it tightly whenever tensions ran high in the castle, whenever she couldn’t sleep. Her father always chuckled, saying she had no real idea what it was worth.
She’d been wearing it the day of the massacre. She’d fled the castle in it, and as the fires burnt around her and people called for noble blood, she’d learnt it was worth nothing at all. It hadn’t protected her, hadn’t shielded her. It was nothing but empty stones, another weight around her neck.
“I’ll tell you something for nothing,” Svir said, still inspecting the diamond. “I’ll get more for this than any Greyser heir. Are you sure you don’t want to sell it, Eos? You could buy yourself an island and live with your cat and a hundred sheep.”
“What would I do with a hundred sheep?” Eos said. “I assume you’d be willing to trade it.”
“For the Princess? Most certainly. I might even throw Tanen into the bargain. Some things are worth taking an arrow for. So? Do we have a deal?”
“That is not up to me. It is not my choice,” Eos said, tilting her head towards Castelle.
It wasn’t a choice. What good would letting Eos keep a stolen necklace do, only for Castelle to be taken by Svir? It wasn’t Eos’ necklace, wasn’t hers to give away, and she never should’ve given Castelle any part in the bargain.
It was Castelle’s necklace. Ava Greyser’s necklace. They’d looked so alike, her mother had always said. So much of her family’s heritage had been razed, so many heirlooms taken as trophies after the slaughter; that necklace may as well have been the last of the Greyser bloodline, cast in emeralds and gold.
Castelle’s hands curled into fists, and light so faint, so brief, no one else in the room noticed ran along Brackish’s blade.
The necklace wasn’t the last of their trinkets, their decorations.
The necklace was hers, but Castelle hadn’t worn it in well over a decade.
It had been locked away, placed in some box or drawer, no good to anyone, hoarding what it was worth. The gold it’d bring would keep Svir’s household running for years. Decades, if she was smart with her money. That’s all her family had ever done: store away their wealth, refusing to help the masses, all so they could have something shiny, something no one else had.
It was her necklace. It was her choice to make, no one else’s.
Clouds of anger cleared. They’d only formed to mask the utter relief guilt compelled her to hide.
“Take it. It’s yours. Do whatever you please with it,” Castelle said.
Svir placed the necklace in her shirt pocket and said, “I was going to, but thank you so much for the belated permission.”
Svir left the room in an excited flurry, after three failed attempts to pull herself from her chair. Tanen trailed after her. They gave Eos a mock salute an
d a look that said she’d better not go far; they weren’t done with her.
The tension dissolved into a silence that wouldn’t be banished as easily. Castelle stared at her hands. A dart to the back of her neck, days on the road, wrists bound, an arrow to a shoulder, a man murdered, the certainty the rest of her dwindling life was going to be spent passed from one person to another with no say in where she went and what she did, and it was all over.
All it’d taken was a tiny trinket, small enough to fit in a shirt pocket.
Rhyolite purred as Eos stroked him, and Castelle felt eyes on her as she traced the lines of her palms.
Days spent wishing Eos was there, certain she’d rescue her, that she’d understand, and she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to breathe in a way that wasn’t intrusive.
“You had that on you all this time?” Castelle asked.
“I did,” Eos said.
“Well, that—that worked out for the best, didn’t it? Look at that. I was worth less than some metal and shiny stones,” Castelle said, gaze moving from her palms to the window.
“I understand that it might feel like a betrayal, but when I took it, I did not know you. There was nothing to betray. I had intended to give it back to you, but did not know how to start that conversation.”
“I’d say that was an adequate way to return it,” Castelle said, forcing herself to look at Eos. “You came for me, didn’t you? Gods know where I’d be without you, and I don’t mean in terms of this situation alone. I should be saying thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m sorry, Eos.”
“Do not apologise. It has been a difficult time for you,” Eos said.
“And for you,” Castelle said, mouth quirking into a smile as she gestured at Eos.
Eos furrowed her brow.
“Here. You’re covered in dirt,” Castelle said. She reached over to point out the worst of it, but froze. She could not make the same strides with her body that her mind had, in their time apart. Eos didn’t miss her hesitance. She took Castelle’s wrist, stopping her from pulling back. “What happened to you?”
