by A. E. Rayne
Amma’s boots would not move, but Tanja’s did. Having been offered a chance to leave, she was keen to take it, so grabbing Sigmund out of Amma’s arms, Tanja left to find a corner where she could hide and try to stop his tears.
Left alone, Amma felt exposed, and as Draguta made herself comfortable on the throne, snapping her long fingers for a slave to bring her guest something to drink, she realised that she had no choice but to go to her.
‘Do you know me?’ Draguta wondered, narrowing her eyes, watching as Amma crept closer, realising that the girl was wearing nothing but a nightdress. ‘Have you all been talking about me in Andala, I wonder? Planning what to do with me?’ She smiled, sensing Meena shaking by the entrance. ‘Girl!’ she barked, her face hardening. ‘Come and join us and we can all share our stories about Jaeger!’
Meena edged forward, eyes down, avoiding looking at Amma Furyck.
Amma was too busy trying to remember everything she had heard about Draguta to notice. ‘I...’ She wasn’t even sure if Draguta wanted her to speak. ‘I... I have heard about you.’
‘Well, I would hope so! I didn’t imagine that Jaeger would have a cloth-headed fool for a wife.’ She smirked at Meena. ‘No, a Dragos king needs a clever wife. A woman acutely aware of her place. One who knows what is required of her. A Dragos wife and a Dragos mother.’ Draguta’s eyes drifted down to Amma’s belly.
Amma’s eyes widened, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. It was so warm in Hest that she didn’t feel cold, though she did feel exposed and embarrassed to be standing there in her nightdress. Although neither of those feelings were as demanding as the terror she felt of not knowing what Draguta planned to do to her. Or where Jaeger was and what he would do to her too.
‘Jaeger?’ Draguta mused, reading her thoughts. ‘Jaeger is not here.’ She could see the instant relief in Amma’s brown eyes. They were blinking and twitching like a rabbit about to have its neck wrung. Her nostrils were flaring too. Such a timid creature, she thought with a smile. ‘Jaeger will return soon, and his absence gives us a wonderful opportunity to prepare you for your new role. By the time he arrives, my dear, you will know exactly what is required of you. You will know everything you need to do to please your husband. And Meena, here, will help you.’
Meena cringed, finally forcing herself to look at Amma, who appeared even more terrified than she was. And realising that, Meena tried to smile encouragingly at her, but Amma promptly burst into tears, sobbing just as loudly as Sigmund.
Evaine had not been out of bed in days.
She was bereft. Unable to think or act. Unable to see a path forward.
It was all so pointless without her father. Without Morana.
Without Eadmund.
She lay in the darkness, the unbearable, muggy darkness of her bedchamber, trying to remember when Eadmund had last looked at her with desire. When his hands had been on her body, holding her, touching her with need.
He had loved her. He had loved her.
But now?
She rubbed her eyes, wondering what time of day it was. Her servant, Elfwyn, was cooking. Perhaps that meant breakfast? Or supper? Evaine didn’t know.
Stretching her legs, she ran a hand up her thigh, imagining that Eadmund was there, lying beside her...
The knock on the door was not loud, but Evaine frowned, annoyed to have been brought back into the present. ‘Tell them to go away!’ she barked moodily. ‘Whoever it is! I want them to go away!’ And she dragged a fur over her head, not caring to even guess who had come to her door.
Evaine turned over at the sound of a cough, staring at Brill whose long, thin body stooped awkwardly in the doorway. ‘What do you want?’
Brill wrinkled her nose at the rank smell of the chamber. ‘My mistress wishes you to come. To the castle.’
Evaine rolled back over. ‘Well, I don’t care what she wants. I’m not going anywhere. Why should I? She took Eadmund from me! Turned him against me! Why should I do anything Draguta says?’
Brill sighed, sensing that she was going to have a lot of trouble with Evaine. ‘Because your son is here,’ she tried. ‘She wants you to come for your son.’
Evaine blinked. In all her grief for Eadmund and her father, she had forgotten all about Sigmund.
Her son with Eadmund.
And smiling, she rolled over, pulling back the fur. ‘Tell Draguta I’ll be there shortly.’
4
Else shuffled down the busy pier behind Dragmall whose eyes were fixed on the palatial castle commanding Angard’s square. Memories bubbled up of a happy childhood spent following his father across the cobblestones as he traipsed from the citadel to visit Wulf Halvardar, who had demanded his presence with great regularity. Dragmall had always felt a charge visiting the castle. It was bright and luxurious, filled from floor to ceiling with gold and marble and noise. So much noise. The citadel had been a place of darkness and solitude and study. A dull and depressing place to be as a child, though Dragmall had had little choice but to stay there with his father, being motherless from the age of three.
Hearing a barking cough, he spun around as Morana crept up to his right, her eyes on the armoured guards striding towards them, two of whom aimed for their small party, the rest walking towards their helmsman and his crew.
Dragmall stiffened, feeling Else grip his arm as they waited for the guards to stop.
‘And you are?’ the younger of the two asked imperiously, hand on his sword.
‘Here to see the queen,’ Morana snarled. She was cold and tired and impatient to get into the castle. Draguta would no doubt be watching, and she wanted to get to safety quickly.
The young guard looked her over, barely suppressing his disgust. ‘And why would the queen want to entertain a party of beggars?’ he wondered. ‘You’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for handouts!’
Morana shook her black-and-white hair, chanting under her breath, and within a heartbeat, both guards were stepping away, out of their path, leaving them free to head for the castle.
Dragmall and Else didn’t move, though, not certain what Morana had done and not sure they wanted to go into the castle with her.
‘What choice do you have?’ Morana grumbled, spinning around. ‘No choice! None at all. Now hurry up before Draguta is breathing down our necks. We need to get inside that castle!’
The thought of Draguta was more terrifying than anything Else could imagine, so she stumbled forward, hurrying after Morana. And with a heavy sigh, Dragmall picked up his feet and followed her.
Jael watched Ayla out of the corner of her eye. She was looking over the shields with Entorp. As well as tending to those who had been wounded in the barsk attack, he was also supervising the application of symbols onto every piece of equipment and armour they were taking.
Marcus was helping him.
Despite all that had befallen the fort, Marcus looked lighter. The heavy weight of worrying about Hanna had been lifted. She was still bedbound but getting stronger by the day. Astrid was caring for her, and he had a lot of confidence in her broths, which, despite their foul smell and unpleasant taste, had strengthened Hanna considerably. She was desperate to get out of bed, and Marcus could see no reason why she wouldn’t be walking within days.
Turning her attention away from Ayla, Jael tried to pick up the conversation.
‘These are the most protective symbols Edela and I can think of,’ Entorp sighed wearily. ‘But whether they will do anything against Draguta and her creatures...’
‘I’m not sure that’s why we need them,’ Jael said, running her finger over the freshly engraved symbol in the shining boss of her new shield. ‘I don’t think we can stay safe from whatever Draguta is planning, but we want to protect ourselves from the Followers, wherever they are. Not many have tattoos for protection, so hopefully, these symbols can help us.’
Marcus nodded. ‘And it’s not just Draguta we need to worry about. There’s Briggit too. She will have a role to pl
ay. Her and The Following.’
‘Well, according to Edela, Draguta’s sent Jaeger and Eadmund to attack Helsabor.’
That surprised both men.
‘It makes sense,’ Marcus said, chewing it over. ‘They are a threat to her. Perhaps an even greater threat than you. The Followers need the Book of Darkness to bring Raemus back. And they require Draguta for that.’
‘Why?’ Entorp wondered. ‘If they can take the book, use it themselves, why do they need her?’
‘There is a page that describes the ritual to bring him back. It was torn from the book. I imagine Draguta knows where it is.’
Jael frowned. ‘Perhaps they will welcome Draguta’s attack, then? It’s an opportunity to defeat her and take the book.’
‘I would say so,’ Marcus mused. ‘But whatever the case, it will keep both Draguta and Briggit busy. Hopefully, too busy to worry about us for a while.’
‘That would be good,’ Jael smiled, watching Ayla walk away from Isaura. ‘Keep going with the symbols. We have to do what we can. And don’t forget the helmets. Swords too. Keep going!’
Entorp nodded, turning back into the smoking armourer’s hut, slightly daunted by the task that lay ahead of them all.
Marcus stayed outside, his eyes on Jael, trying to think of anything else that would keep her safe while she tried to kill Draguta.
If only they knew where the shield was.
Morana watched Briggit Halvardar as she perched on the edge of her golden throne, dressed as though she was entertaining guests at a grand feast. Her gown was an eye-catching deep-red, embroidered with golden flowers that blossomed over an ample bosom. Her ebony hair shone, hanging simply past her wide face, resting on a pair of olive-skinned collarbones.
Morana scowled, not liking the look of Briggit Halvardar or the equally over-dressed women who stood on either side of their queen, peering at her as though she were a pig, turning on a spit.
Vanity, in Morana’s experience, was an indulgence of the foolish.
The weak.
And there had always been far too much vanity on display in Angard.
Varna had taken her and Morac to Angard when they were small children. She had visited the city again as a woman, meeting Neera Halvardar and her daughter, Briggit. Liking neither of them. They were self-absorbed creatures, overly obsessed with their status as members of the ruling family. They professed to follow Raemus, to seek his return, as the Hestian and Tuuran Followers did, but Morana had always suspected that the only people Neera and Briggit were loyal to were themselves.
‘Our mothers are dead.’
Morana blinked, irritated by the preening queen who stared at her, dark lashes fluttering over golden eyes.
‘They are. And we do not mourn either of them.’
Briggit laughed, motioning for Morana to come closer.
Else and Dragmall had been ushered into the castle, left in the entranceway, happy to hide in the shadows, far away from flaming candles and mind-reading dreamers. So far Else had been unable to close her mouth. She had always imagined that Hest was the greatest kingdom in all of Osterland, with its majestic stone castle and its busy harbour, once filled with an impressive array of ships for war and trade. The Dragos’ had always been keen to show just how rich and powerful they believed themselves to be, but this?
Angard’s castle, though similar in size to Hest’s, differed entirely in its interior. There were no dull grey flagstones lining the floor, no rough, plain walls that needed to be enhanced with colourful velvet tapestries. Briggit Halvardar’s castle was made of marble, gleaming and light, and Else couldn’t stop staring as she peered around, whispering in Dragmall’s ear, hoping the queen would be content to speak to Morana and not request their presence at all.
Briggit’s cat-like eyes held Morana’s dark gaze. ‘No, we do not mourn our mothers. They were useful for a time, but ultimately, weak. In the way. Obstacles to be removed so we could reach our one true goal.’
Briggit spoke like a true Follower, and Morana shook with pleasure to hear it. Vain, beautiful, but perfectly succinct. ‘Agreed. And now we can, with my help.’
Briggit laughed, her freckled nose in the air. ‘Your help? And why do you think I require your help, Morana Gallas?’ She turned to Sabine who stood to her right, encouraging a smile from her pretty face. ‘I appear to be sitting upon a golden throne, in command of a wealthy, powerful kingdom, while you are grovelling before me in need of a bath.’
Morana straightened her spine, shaking hair out of her eyes. ‘I know Draguta. I know Eadmund Skalleson. I know Jaeger Dragos. And all three are coming for you.’ She flapped a filthy hand in Briggit’s direction. ‘Dismiss me if you wish, but we want the same thing. I have spent my life fighting to be here, at this moment, as have you. Why not help each other get what we both want? I can be of use to you. I can help you stop them all. I can help you claim the Book of Darkness.’
Briggit frowned, leaning forward. Morana looked like a beggar witch, but she knew of her reputation.
She curled a finger in her direction.
Morana edged towards the throne. ‘I have touched it. Used its spells. I have attacked with it. Maimed and killed with it. I know that book better than anyone here. Anyone in your kingdom.’ Her eyes were on Lillith, who was a girl, just as Briggit was a girl. Neither of them understood Draguta and the book as she did.
Briggit’s eyes were aflame as she leaped out of her throne, striding towards Morana. ‘Yes, you have, haven’t you? So why did you leave it behind? Why are you here, in my kingdom without it? Has Draguta sent you? For me?’
Morana laughed, ready to fall down with exhaustion. ‘Draguta? I doubt she could be that clever. No, she imprisoned me, hoping to torture me for the rest of my life. I escaped.’ She jerked in anger at the memory of being imprisoned in her own body, staring at that door, day after day. Unable to speak, eat, lift a limb on her own. ‘Draguta made a mistake not killing me because now I can help you kill her. And then we can do what she was meant to. We can return Raemus to his rightful place. Together. We can bring him back.’
Briggit’s eyes lit up as she studied the snarling creature before her, black-and-white hair sweeping the ground, her body twitching with rage. Briggit could feel it. She could see what Draguta had done. How Morana had been trapped in a chair, force-fed like a child. ‘You seek revenge?’
Morana was dismissive. Impatient. That was not the point! ‘I seek Raemus. Now. Everything else is just wasting time. And if we don’t kill Draguta, we’ll have no chance.’
Sabine and Lillith glanced at Briggit, neither of them liking the look of Morana Gallas, but the queen turned back to her guest with a beaming smile. ‘I couldn’t agree more!’ She tried not to inhale as she motioned for a servant to come forward. ‘I shall have Tilda find you somewhere to stay. A comfortable house, I should think, Tilda. And the baths. You shall ensure my... guest is given some soap. We will speak this evening, Morana. Discuss our plans. For your sake, I hope you’ll have something tangible to offer, otherwise, I shall have to send you straight back to Draguta, and, after your little escape, I doubt she’ll make the same mistake twice.’ And striding back to her throne, Briggit left her servant to remove the ragged woman from the hall, wrinkling her nose as Morana’s earthy scent lingered.
Meena was struggling to control her thoughts. They kept escaping, flipping away from her like a slippery fish. She couldn’t grasp hold of them at all.
Once she had been jealous of Amma Furyck. Now she was supposed to befriend her. Help her.
She couldn’t speak as she opened the door to Jaeger’s chamber, holding out her hand, motioning for Amma to go inside.
Amma didn’t want to go inside.
She remembered this place; what it had felt like when Jaeger had dragged her up here on their wedding night.
It didn’t feel real.
She kept thinking about Axl, trying not to cry again.
Seeing that Amma wasn’t moving, Meena walked ahead of
her, into the chamber. ‘You have to come,’ she mumbled, growing even more uncomfortable.
Amma didn’t know what to make of the strange woman. She only caught sight of her face occasionally as Meena shook her hair, bent over and twitching as she moved.
Amma didn’t trust her. In Hest, she was sure, she couldn’t trust anyone.
Meena realised that she would have to stay elsewhere. She was grateful for that, remembering the chamber Berard had given her; wondering what Jaeger would think when he returned. Turning to Amma, she could see the fear in the girl’s eyes as she stood there not wanting to look around. Not wanting to see the memories of her time in Jaeger’s bed.
Meena felt much the same. ‘You must stay here now,’ she tried. ‘This is where you belong.’
Amma blinked, biting her lip.
Meena looked away, noticing her cloak on a chair, and she hurried to pick it up. ‘I will leave you, and... send someone. I will send someone. You must have a servant. A maid. Someone to... help.’
‘Wait.’ Amma didn’t want her to go. ‘Do you live here?’
Meena twisted her cloak around her fingers. ‘I... I... no. I... yes.’
‘Oh. So you and Jaeger...’
Meena stared at the floor.
‘I don’t want to be here!’ Amma panicked, hoping she could find an ally. ‘I was taken. Those men took me. I don’t want to be here!’ Her eyes filled with more tears, and she dropped her head, shuddering.
Meena dragged a hand away from her cloak, wanting to take Amma’s, to comfort her, sympathise with her. Then she saw a flash of Draguta’s displeasure, and she flattened her hand back against her cloak. ‘You belong here,’ she muttered. ‘This is your home now.’ And hurrying past Amma to the door, she didn’t look back. ‘I will send someone. They will help you.’
