“We still have the changeling. The others will blame him for allowing you on the island, for putting our younglings at risk.” He raises powerful wings. “It’s finally time for a new Alpha.”
I throw hands over my head as a shower of wind and dirt blows against me. Sand scatters. Ona’s form fades to a pinpoint in the sky. My eyes water to clear themselves of grit. What have I done? Muuth protected me from the dragons, helped me escape, and this is how I repay him? I cross my fingers, hoping that once Ona sees the younglings—alive, awake and well—he’ll forget all about hurting Muuth. Or challenging Adom again out of anger toward me.
Foghum is a minuscule oasis buried in a field of dry grass. I peel off my satchel and search for a pair of sturdy mossacs. After donning the boots, I begin the long trek. The sun peers above the trees. I estimate I’ll reach the city by nightfall. I need to stay out of Adom’s sight—at least for the time being. If he discovers me, he’ll try to take me back to Onyx again. To my death, and very likely to his own as well. I can’t let that happen.
By noon I stumble across a small stream. The water is icy, perfect for a cool drink. It’s a good place to stop and rest. I take out the container of shriveled brown mushrooms and the jar of bruised berries I gathered the day before. Fall-apart blackberries stain my fingers red, and juice drips down my chin. Kicking off my mossacs, I dig bare toes into the cool, sandy ground.
After the meal, I strip off my clothes and plunge into the stream. I swim, moving my legs to stave off frost. The sun bears high overhead. An easterly wind blows pinecones off a nearby tree. I dip under the water. Chilly. I toss out my hair. Short, wet strands slap across my face.
A horse trots to the stream. Another icy shiver attacks me. I crouch low in the water.
“Lady Malandre. What a surprise.” Lord Faigen dismounts. “I’m giving Tonga a rest.”
I have an instinct to be shy. But then I realize it is Faigen who should be embarrassed, not me. He saw me, recognized that I’m bathing, and still he’s standing there with a crooked crack on his amused face. Pervert.
“Good morning, Lord Faigen.” I rise, dripping, and remove myself from the stream. Gooseflesh dimples my skin. I grab a garment from my satchel and step calmly behind a tree. My lip quivers. Then I curse, realizing I grabbed a “nightdress.” I pat myself dry, barely, and throw on the outfit. By the time I finish tying the sash, Lord Faigen has mounted his horse again.
“What brings you here?” he asks.
“I’m talking a walk,” I manage, grimacing inwardly at his surprise.
His jaw drops. “Foghum is a half day’s walk from here.”
“So? I got here in half a day. I can return in half a day.”
“A walk?” Lord Faigen repeats dumbfounded, staring at my attire. “In a nightdress?”
His shock does not bode well for me. I have no more explanations for him. Instead of attempting another watery excuse, I try another tactic. “What brings you here?”
Faigen’s visage brightens. “Glad you asked.” He tosses a hand to his forehead. “About week ago, I left Foghum to visit my mother.” A modest blush creeps into his cheeks. “She’s ill and not faring well. I’m only just returning from the visit.” He eyes the deserted plains. “Those horrible creatures,” he murmurs. “They ruined my hometown, Salcom. You were there once, yes?” His pupils dilate and the horse whinnies.
“Did dragons scorch it?” I picture Raina and the children playing in front of the inn. My heart stops. Are they all gone?
“They demolished it. All to get back at me for joining the king’s army.”
“Did anybody…” I choke on morbid images. “Did anybody survive?”
Faigen nods. “Half the village was saved. Count Malandre arrived in time to usher people to an underground safe place. But my mother breathed too much ash and her lungs haven’t recovered yet. She’s staying in a neighboring town at an inn run by another scorch victim, Sam Collum. The inn’s overrun with all the refugees.” Curiosity creeps onto his handsome features. “Do you want a ride back?” he asks then he holds up his hands. “Please, don’t run away again.”
My heart quickens. It’s too late now to shield my identity. Lord Faigen already knows me, and it will seem suspicious for me to ask him not to tell the Count of our encounter. Adom will probably learn of my presence because of this meeting, but as long as I avoid revealing my whereabouts, he can’t do anything without risking his identity and position.
“I won’t run. Just give me a moment to change.”
Lord Faigen smirks. “I like what you have on.”
“Then I suppose you can wear it.” I grab my bag and hurry to the nearby oak. Sorting through the garments in my satchel, I select a simple one. I step out from behind the trunk wearing my new attire—a magenta linen dress with pockets on the sides and a pleated skirt.
“About our first encounter,” I begin. “Thank you for not asking questions. We just married, you see, and I was homesick when I saw you that first time at the tavern. He didn’t know where I’d gone. When you mentioned his name, I thought you might tell him.”
Lord Faigen’s face softens. “Ah. High society life stifled you, and so you went searching for some deeper communion with humanity in a more… rustic setting.”
I shrug and don’t answer. It can’t hurt to let him think we’re kindred souls.
“He went looking for you,” Theodore mutters as he reaches down to hoist me into the seat behind him. My legs dangle on one side of the horse, and I grasp Faigen with both hands to keep from falling off. This isn’t how Adom positioned me, but it seems more dignified than hiking up my skirt and facing forward. “He came into the tavern in search of you.”
“He did?” That surprises me. I never questioned how Adom found me. He said the kidnappers left instructions that he followed. Did he search for me before they left the message?
Lord Faigen nods. “He was terrified for your safety, distraught.”
“Really?” My heart thunders. Why is my breath shortening so abruptly? It’s just nerves. Adom said he can track me by my scent. He followed his nose and found Lord Faigen at the tavern. Then he had to put on a concerned husband act for Faigen’s benefit.
“I told him you’d visited earlier, and a burly man by the door said he saw you run down an alley,” the young lord explains as the horse trots obediently.
“Well, we found each other and that night is long gone,” I murmur, shuddering.
The trip to Foghum doesn’t take nearly as long riding on the back of Faigen’s able horse, Tonga, as it would have had I chosen to walk the whole way. As we approach the city gates, I plot my next move. If Adom is still staying at Volcourt, I have to avoid that area. Where can I go that will draw me closer to Adom yet keep me safe from his sharp eyes and his keen sense of smell? It has to be some place I can figure out what he’s planning with the changeling recruits, and do something about it if he’s up to no good.
Why don’t you just run? a voice in the back of my head asks me. You’ve wanted freedom all this time. What business is it of yours what Adom is doing now?
But if Adom is building a changeling army to strengthen the herd, what does he plan to do next? Adom says there’s no point in revenge, but Ona killed the pair of dragons Adom considers his parents. Ona challenges Adom and tortures him routinely. Sometimes, it’s to protect me, but sometimes it’s just because Ona is an ass. For one moment, my mouth curves into a frown as I think again of the blood marks on the floor of the central cave. Then I shake it off. If Adom’s smart—and I know he is— he’ll use his changeling army to get rid of Ona and all the dragons who oppose him. Maybe it isn’t revenge. Maybe it’s strategic.
But then there’s still the threat of the king’s army. Unless his changelings can infiltrate the courts, as Adom has done. They could overthrow the king of Trana. They could rule Onyx and Trana. If that’s his plan, there woul
d be nowhere I could go to escape him. And Adom has always said that if I run, he’ll find me and kill me.
“Where’s Count Malandre now?” I ask, masking my concern.
“I spoke with my associates at the Volcourt Inn this morning. They reported Count Malandre would be hunting with the king all day today,” Faigen responds.
Hunting with the king, or for the king? He’d have the perfect alibi. “Take me to the castle,” I tell Theodore. “I intend to meet him there.”
Lord Faigen shrugs. “I’m at your service.”
My service? I like him more and more.
SEVEN
Lord Faigen’s metal gauntlet clicks and clanks as he leans into me. He doesn’t have a scratch or a stain on his armor, which makes me doubt his story about fighting the dragons in Salcom village. “I hope the sun isn’t burning your complexion. You’re used to carriages.”
He thinks carriages made my skin so light? Perhaps he should try living in a cave for the rest of his life. My amusement fades as we ride past the Volcourt Inn. The same window I crawled through to escape is now drawn with thick, navy curtains
“Do you want me to stop here, instead?” Faigen asks.
“No, thank you.” I grip him tighter. Adom isn’t there, so I shouldn’t be frightened. And yet, the bones in my back align one after another until I am stick stiff.
The first time I met Theodore, he was reveling in poetry at a tavern filled with drunks, completely unaware of the dark plans unfolding a block away from the place. I can’t help but wonder what ever happened to little Nathaniel.
Theodore kicks his horse’s flanks. “We’re nearing the castle.” He needn’t have spoken. In a moment it appears between buildings, a colossal, multi-tower vision of grandeur. It gleams in the sunlight with ivory-gold beams reflecting off walls for miles.
We clop through brick streets until at last we reach the gates of the castle. Guards cluster by the door, swords at their backs, a veneer of hard planes. Weathered creases curl around black, wary eyes. They are tanned men, seasoned by nature and hours of physical exertion.
“Who goes there?” the guard asks.
Theodore removes his helmet and lowers it to his waist. “Lord Faigen, servant of the king.” He gestures to me. “And this is the wife of one of the visiting lords.”
The leader seems to recognize Lord Faigen. “Another one?”
Faigen straightens, his chin reared in pride. “Another what?”
“Conquest,” responds the bold guard his lip curling. The men surrounding him tense.
“I’ll take your name.” Faigen draws to mighty proportions, his shadow casting darkness over the guards. “Count Malandre’s wife doesn’t deserve your ill treatment.” His voice lowers until it becomes a dangerous whisper. “She’ll have your heads served on a silver platter for this.”
Whatever bravery the guards exhibited only a moment before seems to vanish. Does invoking Count Malandre’s name cause that response everywhere? Is he that influential? It chills my bones to see these mighty warriors cowed by the mere mention of Adom.
The leader, realizing at once that he overstepped his bounds, raises a hand. “Forgive me, Lord Faigen. I meant no disrespect to the lady.” At last, he gestures for his men to move. “All clear, my lord. Come right through.”
Guards hurry to open the gate.
Faigen passes them and escorts me through the outer courtyard.
As we move forward, I rotate and witness the friendly smiles slip off their faces. Hard stares replace the admiring eyes. A couple of guards glare at Lord Faigen’s back, whispering hateful remarks that bounce off the walls of the gate and enter my ears. They don’t like him. In fact, it seems like they can barely tolerate him. I can’t help but wonder why.
The troubling moment vanishes the instant I see the splendor of the wonderland before me. Bushes trimmed to look like animals. Rainbow-colored flowers whose peachy aroma hits me like a solid force. Dyed parchment pinwheels whirl as wind blows.
While the rest of Trana burns, the castle grounds flourish. No wonder the guards have a dislike for someone like Lord Faigen, a hedonist who treats the dragon scorchings and poverty as something like a sport. For all his talk of work with the king’s army and the suffering he’s endured, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who would fearlessly dive into a battle.
We follow a wide, cobblestone road until we come to the front entrance of the castle. The outer courtyard stretches on for miles with orchards filled with every fruit imaginable—kumquats and huge gardens of exotic blooms. Beastly statues and marble fountains decorate the walkways.
The front entrance stirs in a flurry of action as servants dart in and out of an open door constructed of immense wooden planks and broad iron bars. I marvel at the size and girth of the door, boggled by the idea that mere men open and close it. But then I see thick iron chains wrapped around a wheel, and realize the castle doors are held open using complex contraptions. Brilliant! Has Muuth ever seen anything like this?
Beside our horse, twelve glistening black carriages line the cobblestone street. A man in black uniform steps forward as we slow. He’s a squat man, with graying hair, blue eyes and large jowls. “Welcome, Lord Faigen. May I take your armor? The footman will be here shortly to take your horse to the stables.”
“No need,” Faigen begins his speech, flourishing colored handkerchiefs. “I’m only here to deliver this lovely Lady to her family. You will take care of her, won’t you Ryrick?”
“Of course I will.” He extends a hand to help me dismount. “What’s your name?”
I ignore him and glance up at Theodore. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” He takes my hand. “Take care, fair lady. I will see you again shortly, I hope.” Lord Faigen bows low from the saddle and brushes his lips over my fingers before nudging the flanks of his steed.
As soon as he leaves, the servant spins toward the giant door and reaches for my satchel. “My name is Ryrick Siron, Butler of Callihan Hall. I apologize for the confusion; I can’t imagine what happened to our footmen, but I can show you to the drawing room to wait for your family.”
I stop mid-step and snatch the satchel. “I need to speak with the Head Housekeeper.”
He hesitates. “Is something the matter?”
“I’m no lady, just a simple serving woman.” My voice rises an octave. Now they will either stone me for my deceit or hire me for my courage. So long as they don’t send me away.
“I don’t understand. I thought you were here to see your family? I’ll need your name—”
“No, there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t have family here. I’m from the country.” Guilt gnaws at my throat. “I was traveling to Foghum on foot when Lord Faigen found me. He brought me into the city to find work. I’m one of the scorch victims, you see.”
Ryrick’s eyes flicker with compassion. “I see. Did you...lose anyone?”
“I did. My entire family.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Was it the Salcom village incident?”
It makes the most sense to name the most recent scorching. It also explains why Faigen was with me and brought me here. I nod. “Lord Faigen thought maybe I could start again here.”
“We don’t have any positions open,” Ryrick replies. He sounds apologetic. “Cydra hires the chambermaids, and only those on high recommendations from the Houses. I’m sorry.”
“I have work experience. I worked for Count Malandre once.”
“Count Malandre?” The man’s brows furrow. “What job did you do for him?”
“I was his housekeeper.”
“You managed staff?”
“I managed assets.”
“Which house did you keep?”
“His country house.”
“Which country house?”
I
swallow. Adom has more than one house in the country? “He took me from one house to the other. I also served as his personal assistant.” Even I think this explanation sounds feeble. Cursing myself for poor preparation, I prepare for the inevitable rejection.
“You were his estate manager?” The man seems paralyzed in disbelief. “Wait right here.”
I watch as he strides through the entrance. Now and then, servants stop to observe me. The pins-and-needles feeling grows. Impersonating a noble, and then impersonating a housekeeper? And using the names of important lords? The servants will find me out, and I’ll be killed. I break into a sweat. The heat of the summer day doesn’t help much.
Everything in me is telling me to run the opposite direction, but Adom said he has a plan for the changelings and I want to know what that plan is. Besides, even if I run, he’ll find me eventually. I’m not about to let him hunt me down like a fleeing prey.
A harsh clopping bounces off the marble staircase. My eyes follow the slimmest ankles I’ve ever seen to the angular torso of a tall woman in front of me, her gray hair tied back in a stingy, no-nonsense bun. The male servant from before is two heads shorter than the woman.
“I’m Cydra,” she barks. “You wanted to see me?”
My gut sinks. “I’m here to ask for a job,” I tell her. “Lord Faigen suggested I see you.”
“Lord Faigen doesn’t hold much weight around here.”
The male servant stands on tip-toe to whisper loudly in Cydra’s ear. “She says she used to be Count Malandre’s Head Housekeeper. And his estate manager.”
Cydra crooks her head at me. “Where are your documents?” she challenges. When she sees I have none, her smile grows. “You must have documents. Else you cannot work here.”
My heart slams against my ribcage. Where can I get documents? Do they hand them out on the streets? I straighten, preparing to leave and spare myself any further humiliation.
Slither Page 12
