“Ryrick’s a blind old bat, and Cydra doesn’t employ me.”
Maybe I won’t have to rely on Berrel’s “good will” or selling scales after all. Hope radiates in my chest. “I’ll consider it,” I tell her. “And thank you.”
After she leaves, I poke my head into the hallway to make sure Cydra isn’t lurking in the immediate vicinity. All clear. I creep through the servant’s quarters, stepping lightly so I can dart out of sight. Two slumbering mongrels guard the door to the courtyard. The beasts’ ears twitch as I pass, but they do not awaken. Sunlight pours over my profile as I bend the creaking hinges of the wooden door. A lush floral aroma sweeps over me; I pause to breathe in the scent. Then I cross the courtyard. Reaching the wall closest to the forest, I hesitate. A nearby well often attracts attention; servants use it for bathwater. I peek around the corner. No one in sight.
This strikes me as unusual. The past two weeks have been a constant flurry of activity. Solitude in the courtyard, the absence of servants, baffles me. They must have all gone to the kitchen on the opposite end of the courtyard to get ready for lunch.
I’m just clearing the doorway toward the courtyard when Ryrick bursts through the green labyrinth. “Quickly,” he shouts. “Lady Celeste twisted her ankle in the forest and needs help. Find Patience and then report this to Lord Berrel immediately.”
“Lord Berrel? Why?” Shouldn’t I report it to the king?
“She’s his sister. I’ll see to it that the king is informed.”
Lord Berrel’s sister? I frown, reverse my direction and quicken my pace. Why didn’t Rhydian mention that Lady Celeste was his sister? She intervened on my behalf the day I arrived at the castle looking for work. And she’s the future queen. I’ve avoided Rhydian for enough time that of course I know which room is his. And Adom’s, too, by this point. You can’t actively avoid someone without digging into their personal habits and routines a little. And because of my ability to quickly memorize winding routes even in pure darkness, I’m able to figure out the fastest way of reaching the room without having ever been there before. At the door, I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and knock.
The door squeaks open. Berrel is shirtless, a drowsy smile imprinted on a sleepy face. “I’ve been expecting you,” he says. “Come in.” He widens the door and waits expectantly.
“Sir, I’m only here to report that your sister hurt herself walking in the forest. Ryrick found her, and he and the physician are transporting her back to her chambers now.”
“Celeste hurt herself?” He yawns.
“It’s just a twisted ankle. Nothing serious.”
He nods. “Thank you for the report. She’s remarkably resilient. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” He stands at the door and continues to stare. I begin to make up something about having duties to attend to, but then I realize I don’t. Cydra fired me. So where do I go now?
Berrel gestures to my uniform. “Are you really working or just dressing like a maid?”
“I was hired to work, so I’m working.” Or rather, I had been working until this morning.
“So they pay you?” He doesn’t wait for my response. “What do you plan to do with the money you’re earning? Are you keeping it safe somewhere?”
“What do I—?” I glare. “You want the money in exchange for your silence.”
His eyes dart back and forth down the hallway. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He grabs my arm and tugs me into the room. “We should discuss this discreetly.” Berrel closes the door before me. “You wouldn’t want anybody to overhear us, would you?”
Adom’s room is on a different floor, but I suppose Berrel is right. “Why would you ask about my money? And why have you been expecting me to come to you?”
He puts his hands between us and backs up several steps. “I wondered about your work, and I wanted to find out if you needed anything. And to report a few things that I’ve learned. Things I think you’d appreciate knowing. That’s all.”
I glance around the room. It’s a suite, similar to the room arrangement at the Volcourt Inn. The front room is a sitting room, and sliding doors lead to the bedroom. The bedsheets are chaotically splayed. Somehow, it brings me relief. Berrel is not a placid sleeper. He has a flaw. He’s not always a smug, slick businessman. “You said you would help me.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He grimaces. “Badly, so it would seem.”
“I need an audience with the king, and I need to ensure that Lord Malandre is not there.”
Berrel digests this. “Why? That isn’t a simple task.”
“Can you help or not?”
He stares at me for a long moment. “I might be able to arrange something for tomorrow night. The king is hosting a small banquet, just a few intimate friends. I could invite you as my guest.” He looks at the floor for a moment, and the tips of his ears turn red. “Celeste was supposed to attend, of course, but I’m not sure if she’ll be able to after what you said about her ankle. I’ll check on her today. Rumor has it Count Malandre’s leaving this afternoon to finalize business contracts with partners in the south. He should be gone for several weeks, at least.”
My heart chills. Adom is leaving? What are the chances that he’s actually going to Onyx Island to check in on the dragons? And if he does...Ona’s threats rings in my head.
There’s a knock on the door. Berrel and I glance at each other, sharing mutual terror for a fraction of a second before he composes himself, grabs hold of my arm, and guides me into a linen closet. “My deepest apologies,” he says, and shoves me inside.
“Who is it?” he calls.
“Count Malandre,” replies the voice from the other side of the door.
My stomach drops to my feet. I can just see Berrel’s expression from between the slats of the closet doors. The friendly countenance drops. I push open the door and motion for him to come within range.
He moves my direction and shouts at the main door. “I’m busy. Come back later.”
“This can’t wait,” Adom’s turgid voice answers.
“You have to warn him. Tell him not to go back to the island,” I whisper.
Berrel’s eyes widen. “What?”
“Tell him I’ve run away from home and if he goes back, my parents will attempt him bodily harm.” I swallow, hard. “Please. I’ll give you all my scales if you do this one thing.”
“And if he asks where you are now?”
“You saw me several weeks ago, but I’m long gone now,” I respond, concealing myself in the closet again as the Adom raps at the door more insistently.
Berrel sighs, loudly. “Very well. Come in.” He swings the door open.
Adom stands on the other side. “Lord Berrel. I trust you are finding the accommodations comfortable?” His eyes zoom beyond Berrel’s shoulders and for an instant they hone in on the linen closet. The corner of his mouth crinkles slightly.
My heart leaps to my throat as I peer through the slats. He knows!
Berrel gestures to his bare chest. “As you can see, I’m not quite ready to greet the world.”
“I’ll be brief. I’m leaving this afternoon,” Adom says. “But I wanted to speak with you before I left. Lord Darton mentioned you’ve been hawking your wares to the other nobles.”
“Hawking?” Berrel expels an irritated breath. “I’m expanding my business ventures. There’s no crime in that, and now is the perfect opportunity to meet with potential partners.”
“It isn’t the ‘perfect opportunity’ at all. Your sister is about to be married. Many of the people staying at the castle now are here for the celebration. It’s inappropriate for you to approaching the guests with your scheme.”
“Somehow I doubt you care much about my sister’s marriage, and frankly, I suspect this has more to do with the fact that I’ve been approaching your people.” Berrel folds his arms.
Adom’s eyes
drift toward the linen closet once more. “Darton’s lands are agricultural. Building a factory there would ruin the quality of the harvest, and would damage the livelihood and health of the people in the neighboring towns. Is that really what you want?”
“My goal is to make those people prosperous. To raise them out of their circumstances the same way I was raised out of mine. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“And I suppose it is even more incentive for you that this would also wound me financially? You know I provide the seeds, equipment, and transportation. And you know a percentage of the harvest goes to me at deep discount.”
Berrel smirks. “Yes. It is incentive.”
Adom steps closer. “I am fully aware of your plans against me, Rhydian. I’ve been lenient because of my fondness for your family, and for our shared history.”
“We don’t have a shared history, Malandre—”
“Lady Elanor told me all about your obsession with me. She noticed when she met you.”
“And just where is Lady Elanor right now?”
Adom clamps his mouth shut.
“You should know. Isn’t she your ward?”
Adom’s hands become fists, and his face blanches. Then he takes a breath and after a beat he is calm again. “That’s irrelevant to the conversation.” He slides backwards into the hallway. “As for Darton, you already heard from him about your scheme. Don’t approach him again.”
Adom melts into the darkness of the hallway, and Berrel slams the door behind him. He whirls around and thunders toward the linen closet. I open it before he reaches me.
“Why didn’t you warn him?”
“There’s more to your story that you told me, isn’t there?” Berrel growls. “I’m not a fool, Elanor. Tell me what’s really going on.”
“My business is my own. I told you I’d give you my scales if you warned him about my parents. You said you’d help.”
“You. Not him. And I don’t want your money.”
“You’re a businessman, aren’t you?”
“I have more than enough money. It’s not the kind of payment I’m interested in.”
“If you’re implying—”
“I’m not.” His eyes dig into mine. “If I was a lesser man, I might, but I prefer to take my payment in secrets. Obviously, I’m not at court for innocent reasons, either. I’m here for my sister, yes, but I have plans to act out a revenge on the man who destroyed my family.”
There’s a moment of silence between us. “Lord Malandre.”
He doesn’t blink. “Does that offend you?”
I have to think about the question for a moment. Berrel wants revenge. So do I. Even though Adom might have protected me in his own way all these years, there are things I can’t forgive. He held me prisoner when he could have let me go. For twelve years. Maybe I don’t want him to be torn apart by Ona, but he deserves some punishment for what he did to me. While I sat huddled in darkness, he clicked glasses of wine with snooty noblemen and women wearing fake hair just because. “No,” I say, finally. “He told me about your sister.”
Berrel’s eyes widen. His breathing quickens slightly. “He mentioned Siren? I would have thought he’d forgotten her by now. Did he tell you why she was ill? That my father imagined he saw her with a monster and poisoned her food to cleanse his bloodline?”
I can’t help but wince at that. How could a parent kill his own child? Then I think of Muuth and a shudder starts up my back. “Malandre said she had a fever.”
He sneers, shakes his head, and glares at the wall to his left. “He won’t admit his part in it.” His eyes seek out mine. “Siren was our middle sister. The favorite. Celeste adored her. Malandre courted her for political gain, and when he had what he needed from the Berrel family, he abandoned her.” He dips his head, his shoulders hanging slightly. “Siren was never the same. My father killed her because of his radical superstitions. That’s why I can’t go back.”
I touch the corner of my mouth with my index finger, thinking. After a moment, I ask, “Why take your vengeance out on Malandre? Why not your father?”
“Because Malandre distorted his mind. Has the man not talked to you about his changelings?” His eyes scan mine. “Ah, but I see he has. He had Siren convinced she was one of them. She wanted to leave home and live on an island with wild dragons. My father, he overheard them plotting to elope and put an end to it. But the seed of doubt grew in his mind. He became convinced that all of his children were changelings. After he killed Siren, my father tried to hurt Celeste and me. For her protection, I brought her to court. That’s how she met the king.”
I’m lost in my own thoughts. Adom must have believed that Siren was really a changeling. He would never have told her about Onyx Island and the dragon herd unless he was convinced. Was he wrong about her? I can’t imagine Adom making so massive a mistake. “Why tell me this?”
Berrel flattens the blond curls at the top of his head with his palm, but when he moves his hand the curls just bounce back into shape again. “Because I suspect you and I are working to the same end. I could tell at the party that you seemed an unwilling companion to Malandre. I can also tell that he has a greater interest in you than you realize.” His blue eyes flicker with indecision.
“You mentioned something like that already,” I respond.
“We can use that to our advantage.” His voice is soft now, almost a whisper.
“There is no we in this game,” I remind him.
“There could be if you would trust me.”
“I don’t. Rhydian, I’m not used to trusting people. I work better on my own.”
He smiles.
It unsettles me. “What?”
“You used my first name.” There is warmth behind the words.
“So?”
“That’s the first step in learning how to trust.”
I sigh impatiently. Berrel might want a friend he can connect with and bare his soul to, but I don’t need the mess and distraction of people. It will only get me in trouble, the way working for Cydra only caused problems. I think about the scales and remember that I no longer have a place to live. Then I remember Patience’s offer. I can’t burden her. I have to take care of myself, like I always have. “You said you wanted to help me before,” I say. “Well, I need your help.”
“Anything,” Rhydian says with conviction.
“I have a bag of dragon scales. I need you to buy them from me.”
He squints. “Where did you get dragon scales from?”
“It’s not important. Will you buy them or not?” I can’t quite look him in the eye.
“Will it help you financially?”
“Yes. And you can turn around and sell them for a profit.”
“I don’t normally buy the scales. I mine them. So I won’t make as much of a profit from yours as I would selling my own.” He studies me, a frown growing on his face. “What’s happened? Why do you need the money so urgently now? Aren’t you still working?”
“I have to leave the castle and I don’t have anywhere else to go. If you buy the scales, I’ll have money to pay for an inn.”
“And what about meeting with the king? You asked about that, earlier.”
I raise my chin a fraction. “I have inside information for him that could benefit his army of dragon slayers. I have an acquaintance, Lord Faigen, who joined the army to help prevent dragon scorchings. Then his village burned. I think my information could have helped.”
Rhydian frowns at me for a moment. “You want me to arrange a meeting between yourself and my sister’s fiancé…” he shakes his head, “…the king, to talk to him about dragons? Did I mention they don’t really exist?”
I offer him a thin smile. “Does King Siles believe dragons are scorching his farmlands?”
“Yes, but—”
“Doesn’t he hav
e an army of knights dedicated to battling the dragons?”
“They’re called Scalers. They don’t actually battle dragons. Probably because dragons aren’t real,” he digs. “They do, however, bring food and aid to people whose villages have burned. The sun is especially hot in the summer and fields spark and catch fire quickly.”
Laughter bubbles up out of my throat. “Count Malandre believes in dragons, too.”
His eyes narrow. “But you don’t want him there when you speak to the king. Why?”
My lips press shut. “I have information it’s best if only the king hears.” I know things about Count Malandre that would turn your blood to ice, I could add, but I choose not to tell Rhydian this. If he thinks his father is mad for believing in the existence of changelings, my words will not convince him.
He steps away from me and sags against the wall, his muscular arms crossed. “I’m confused. You obviously don’t want to hurt Malandre, or you wouldn’t have asked me to warn him about your parents. But you don’t trust him, even though you both entertain the idea that dragons are wreaking havoc on our land. And you don’t want him to know you are here in the castle. Why?”
You obviously don’t want to hurt Malandre. The words burn in my ears. I do, don’t I? Didn’t Adom kill my parents? Didn’t he keep me as a slave for twelve years? For some twisted reason, he protected me from the worst of the violence at Onyx. But he didn’t protect me from it all. There were plenty of horrors I had to face on my own. He could have freed me at any point—but he didn’t. So yes, I do want to hurt him for everything he’s done to me. I just don’t want Ona to do it. I swallow before responding, hoping the intensity of my emotion doesn’t come through.
“You said before that Malandre believes people can be dragons. That he tried to convince your sister that she was one, too,” I reply. “Stop and think a minute. If I have information on this subject, do you really think sharing it with Malandre in the room is safe?”
“No, I suppose not,” Rhydian answers after a moment. Then his eyes widen. “Wait. You aren’t saying that the scorchings… are somehow connected to Count Malandre? That he’s so delusional he’s burning whole villages to keep up this ruse that he’s a dragon?”
Slither Page 15
