To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five)

by Hartoin, A. W.

  I snorted. “He means you, weirdo.” I slipped my hand under his covers and found the master secretary’s knife at his hip. I took it and put it in my pocket.

  Rickard fell into a deep sleep and we left, hustling down the long aisle, jumping over patients and avoiding the galen. We found Gerald in the hall with his nose deep in a book that probably weighed more than he did.

  “Come on,” I said.

  He didn’t look up.

  “Gerald.” Iris poked him hard.

  He hissed at her, “What’s your problem?”

  “You. Come on.”

  Gerald tried to show me the book. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “I can tell. We’ve got to go back to my room,” I said.

  “You won’t believe what I found out.”

  “I’m pretty sure I won’t care. Come on.”

  Iris and I pushed him and his ginormous book through the corridors to my room. Nobody was guarding it. That was a good sign. Iris opened the door and a couple of servants came around the corner, carrying trays.

  Darn it. So close.

  “Excuse us,” said one. “Ruffiano sends this late lunch since you missed lunch earlier.”

  “And he sends his apologies for involving you in any way in our family troubles,” said the other.

  I took a tray from him that made my mouth water. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry. “We’re not involved. Hopefully, Ruffiano will get Giacomo out of the duel.”

  The servants flushed and their wings spread out. “It’s a matter of honor. Giacomo must honor his obligation.”

  “But Ruffiano thinks he’ll get killed,” said Iris.

  Their wings slumped. “He will. That is true, but honor must be upheld.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. Giacomo was pretty stupid, but I didn’t think he deserved to die for it. Iris took the tray and Leanna opened the door the rest of the way. “I heard,” she said, tearfully. “Can’t we do something?”

  We carried the trays in and set them on the bed. Horc lunged at my tray, but I managed to nab him before he landed in the middle of it.

  “So hungry,” he moaned.

  “You’re always hungry,” I said, handing him a bowl full of fly legs. Fly legs don’t seem like they’d smell, but they do. Horc plopped down and began scarfing down legs. His stink was unbearable. I had to give him a bath before we left. Fidelé and Rufus scampered to the end of the bed as far from Horc as they could get. I gave Fidelé a dish of lavender honey and Rufus got a round pepper that he ate like a squirrel eats a nut.

  Iris picked up a bowl of pomegranate seeds. “I’ll take these to Victory.”

  “I already fed him. I got some fly from the kitchen,” said Leanna.

  “And she wouldn’t give me any,” said Horc, his teeth full of feet.

  “I gave you a thorax.”

  “That’s hardly anything to a growing spriggan.”

  I closed the door and had Iris take a listen. Nobody was out there. Ruffiano might know what I was, but he wasn’t decisive about it. He was probably distracted by his son’s impending death. That worked out great for us.

  Leanna made plates for us all and we sat on the bed, eating the wonderful fruit. I sipped a glass of sweet lemon juice and lay back on the fluffy pillows to tell Gerald and Leanna everything that had happened.

  “So your wing’s better?” asked Leanna.

  “A lot better, but if I can avoid flying for a few more days, that would be good,” I said.

  “We don’t have a few more days,” said Gerald. “We have to go. These fairies are crazy.”

  “Giacomo is. Everyone else is okay.”

  “No, they’re not.”

  I finished my juice and set the glass on the wobbly tray. “What makes you say that?”

  Gerald put his pointy nose in the air. “Are you ready to listen to me now?”

  Listening to Gerald was one of my least favorite things, but sometimes, it couldn’t be avoided.

  “Okay. What’s so important in that book of yours?”

  Gerald jumped off the bed and got another book off the window. “I got this earlier. You have to read it.” He gave me the book and I read the title out loud. “The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.” I gave it back. “How’s reading a play by a human going to help us get out of here?”

  Gerald pushed the book back into my hands. “Trust me. It will help you help us.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then—”

  “I just know,” said Gerald.

  I groaned and opened the book to the first page of the play, scanning it quickly.

  Gerald tapped the book. “It’s a play. You have to read it out loud or it won’t work.”

  “What won’t work?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” I said and then I began to read.

  Two households, both alike in dignity,

  In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

  From ancient grudge break to new mutiny.

  I rolled my eyes. “We know all this stuff. They’re having a feud. So what?”

  “Just keep reading,” said Gerald.

  “Fine,” I said and began again.

  Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

  From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

  A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;

  Iris cuddled up next to me. “There wasn’t a real Romeo and Juliet, was there? Nobody killed themselves, right?”

  “Wrong,” said Gerald, so excited he was hopping. “Keep reading.

  I began again.

  Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows

  Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.

  “But it didn’t end,” I said. “They’re still fighting.”

  “I know. You have to read the whole thing,” said Gerald.

  “Because you know it will help?”

  “It will. I swear.”

  So I did. I read the whole play, all 118 pages of it, and it was pretty good, but a bit confusing. The Montagues and Capulets were still fighting. The suicides didn’t help, like in the play.

  “I didn’t like it,” said Iris.

  “Really?” asked Leanna. “It’s about love.”

  Iris snorted. “I know love. It’s my thing and that’s not love.”

  We all stared at her. I was pretty sure it was about love.

  “Real love doesn’t happen that quick,” said Iris. “How long was it before they killed themselves? A week?”

  “Four days,” said Horc with his spriggan’s mind for numbers.

  “That’s it?” I asked. “Who kills themselves after knowing someone for four days?”

  “No kidding,” said Iris. “I don’t like Shakespeare. He makes light of love.”

  “I don’t think that was exactly light.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Then it was silly.”

  Gerald got the ginormous book he’d been reading earlier and heaved it into my lap. “Here. Open to page 672.”

  “Ouch,” I said. “That’s heavy.”

  “Read it.”

  “You’re getting bossy.”

  “Hurry up,” said Gerald, once again vibrating.

  “Fine.” I read the book’s title embossed on the cover, La Storia Eroica della Famiglia Montague. “This is a pretty big history.”

  “That’s volume one,” said Gerald.

  “I’m not reading this whole thing.”

  “You don’t have to. Just a few pages are important.

  I read through the pages Gerald told me to and then read them a second time. I wasn’t sure how it helped, but it was kinda interesting.

  “So the suicides started the feud instead of ending it.”

  “Yep,” said Gerald proudly.

  “I don’t know how that helps.”

  “I get it,” said Leanna. “You have
to find a way to end the feud.”

  I heaved the history into Leanna’s lap. “You read it and see if you find a way.”

  Leanna did read it and she didn’t find a way. “It doesn’t say why they killed themselves.”

  “But,” said Gerald, “They were engaged. Romeo and Juliet were supposed to get married.”

  I rubbed my eyes. After a couple hours of reading, they were tired. “I’m not going to end the feud. It’s been going on forever.”

  Gerald wasn’t happy, but we planned our escape. Leanna had found out that the duel was the next morning at dawn, so Rickard was right. We had to get out that night. We would go to the banquet. Hopefully, there would be drinking and when nobody was paying attention, we’d sneak away up to the ramparts, get the dragons, and fly away. It sounded simple, so something had to go wrong. I didn’t care. We were going. I’d make sure of it.

  The banquet started a couple of hours later. We straightened our well-worn clothes and followed the servants to the dining hall. We were all invited, including Horc and Victory. Iris had gotten Victory from the dragons, shined his shell, and put him on her shoulder. He hunkered down and looked like a big, black mole on her skin.

  Horc was much more excited. The servants said there’d be pork. That’s all Horc needed to get on board. I would’ve skipped it, if I could’ve thought of a way without being rude.

  We walked into the hall to find it packed. Servants squeezed through the crowd with trays piled high with vegetables and fruit. Some trays had meat, pork and beef. Scogliera weren’t strictly vegetarians. They ate meat on special occasions and this was a special occasion. I thought it would be somber, but Giacomo’s send-off was a party. Bottles of prosecco were passed around, filling glasses with bubbly liquid. Everyone wore bright silk clothing and outlandish hats that, if you weren’t careful, would hit you in the head. They laughed and toasted, saying things like “Merry met, and merry part, I drink to thee with all my heart,” and “Speak of the devil and he appears.” These were met with cheers, like Giacomo getting stabbed to death was really not so bad.

  I leaned over to Gerald. “Do you get this?”

  He shook his head. “I should’ve researched more.”

  A servant gave us plates and piled them high with bread and fruit. Horc got a plate of pork. There were no flies or stinkbugs. Maybe that was considered to be too gross for the crowd. About an hour into the banquet, Ruffiano stood up on a dais at the end of the hall and gave a tearful speech about Giacomo. There were stories about his childhood, his intelligence, and whatnot. No mention that he would be getting killed the next morning for nothing more than honor and idiocy.

  Iris tugged on my sleeve. “How long do we have to stay? I’m tired.”

  “Another hour. They’re not drunk enough.”

  Leanna tapped my shoulder. “Look at that.” She pointed at a somber scogliera pushing his way through the cheering crowd to the dais. He had a rolled up parchment in his hand. He waited for Ruffiano to finish and then whispered something in his ear. Ruffiano looked surprised and pleased and then rushed off the dais and out of the hall.

  Iris clasped her hands. “Maybe it’s good news. Maybe the Capulets don’t want to kill Giacomo.”

  We looked at Gerald, who was holding Horc and getting sprayed with bits of pork and spriggan slobber. “They have made some attempts at reconciliation over the last four hundred years.”

  “What went wrong?”

  He grimaced and flicked a piece of pork loin off his cheek. “Somebody took something as an insult and there’d be a duel.”

  “They sure do like dueling,” said Iris.

  “Yeah, they do. The pope even said they couldn’t duel anymore, but they keep doing it.”

  Leanna brightened up. “Maybe I can help. I could take away the fear and they wouldn’t be so angry anymore.”

  I looked around at the room full of cheering Montagues. “Do they seem afraid to you?”

  She slumped down. “No. They’re happy. What’s wrong with them?”

  We didn’t have time to find out. We ate until we couldn’t eat anymore. Once we got out of the Montagues’ fortress, who knew when we’d eat again. Leanna did try to nanny Giacomo. She hugged him and tried to take away his fear, but she didn’t find any. Giacomo thought he was going to win. It didn’t matter that his whole family was toasting his death. He was dumb enough to think he could become a sword master overnight with no practice. Bentha had tried to teach me to be a master of the sword and it was hard. I could use a sword, but I didn’t really have the talent. With years of practice, I’d be okay, but nothing more. If the only talent Giacomo had was making golden roads, he was in big trouble. Oliverio didn’t look like the type to kill him quickly either.

  When Horc began yawning, we slipped out the side door. Ruffiano wasn’t in the hall and nobody noticed us leaving. Iris listened in the hall to make sure no one was missing us or saying anything about our dragons. They weren’t, so we went back to my room. It was my turn to carry Horc. He’d eaten so much pork, I think he’d gained a whole ounce.

  Before I got to the door, Iris grabbed my arm. “Someone’s in your room.”

  She was right. My door was cracked open. We’d left it closed.

  “Who is it?” I mouthed to her.

  She shrugged. “Not talking. What should we do?”

  “Go in.” I gave her Horc and flung open the door.

  At the window seat was Ruffiano. He had my bags: Grandma Vi’s bag, my traveling bag, and the Austrian jewel case. A glowing stiletto lay beside the shattered remains of the broken lock on a velvet box. He held the enameled tiara in his hands. “It’s time for the truth, Principessa.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I CHARGED ACROSS the room and snatched my tiara out of his hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Following my instincts, Your Highness,” said Ruffiano.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I carefully put the precious tiara back in its case.

  Ruffiano pulled a rolled parchment out of his pocket and held it out to me.

  I didn’t take it. Fidelé and Rufus writhed and hissed on my shoulders and I soothed them instead.

  “Recognize this?” asked Ruffiano

  “No.”

  “You should. It’s about you.”

  I said nothing, so he unrolled the parchment. “Her Imperial Highness, Empress Marie Karoline, has the pleasure of announcing the betrothal of Her Royal Highness, Matilda, Princess Royal, to her son, His Imperial Highness, Emperor Max—”

  “What’s your point?” I said. “You got a letter, so you can rifle through my stuff?”

  “I got a Bann of Marriage from the Austrian Imperial family.”

  “I didn’t know you were that close,” I said.

  “We’re not. Verona belongs to the Republic of Venice. This parchment is a copy of the one the doge received, portly fellow, friendly and cunning at the same time. I think you know him.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  He pulled out another parchment. “Because this parchment came with the Bann of Marriage from the doge. Would you like to know what it says?”

  “Not really. I’m tired. Can you go now?” I asked.

  “It says that Princess Royal Matilda escaped from the doge’s loving care and is now on the run with her siblings and a couple of servants.”

  Just great. Fantastic.

  “Does it say why this princess was being held prisoner by the doge?”

  Ruffiano smiled. “I asked the same question. There are no answers in the parchment. Only the order that Her Royal Highness must be found and returned to the doge’s loving care in Venice.” He rolled up the parchments and tucked them away in his tunic. “You are that princess.”

  I sighed. “And you’re going to force me to return to Venice. Great.”

  Ruffiano shrugged. “I will have to…eventually.”

  “Eventually?”

  “You see, the doge has a treaty with the emp
ress. You’re our ally.”

  I pushed past him and closed my bags and replaced the tiara box where it belonged. “Yeah, that’s really working out for me.”

  He tapped my shoulder and I turned. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention.” Past Ruffiano, Iris, Leanna, and Gerald had big eyes.

  “You are our allies, so you are obligated to help us.”

  I glanced over at my little family. Iris was wringing her hands. Not good. I crossed my arms. Anything that was making Iris that nervous wasn’t good for me.

  Ruffiano touched my shoulder and squeezed. “My son doesn’t have to die. You can save him.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” I said. “You said yourself that it wasn’t our problem.”

  “You’re our allies. You have to do it.” He got out yet another parchment, this one fat and old. “It says right here that Austria has to help when the Republic of Venice or its territories is in jeopardy. You have to save him. Your dragon can fight without it being an incident, international or otherwise.”

  No. It would only be murder. Forget that.

  “Aren’t the Capulets part of the Republic of Venice, too?”

  Gerald grinned behind Ruffiano’s back. It wasn’t often that he thought I was smart. I liked it.

  “The Capulets are a splinter group. They don’t obey the doge or the Vatican. They’ve been trying to undermine us for centuries by taking patients that are delivered to our care, kidnapping the galen, and interrupting trade.”

  “Who would steal patients? That’s stupid.”

  “I agree, but the Capulets know no sense. Patients have died in their care. I know that’s important to you.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Hercule thinks you are a healer. The empress left that out of the Banns of Marriage. She left everything important out, like that you’re a kindler, the only one in the world. You can save Giacomo yourself. Just set fire to Oliverio and it will be over.”

  “And you think that’s fair?” I asked.

  Ruffiano’s face hardened. “I don’t care about fair. I care about my son.”