“What?”
“My mother’s biggest mistake was underestimating you.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly give her much to go on.” I think of my conversation with Hope earlier. “I can’t really blame her for thinking me a little fool.”
“I never did,” he says. His eyes are clear and focused. Without his hair, you can see the planes of his face, fine and strong. His mouth looks wider.
“I know,” I whisper.
I hold his gaze, and the walls of the room start to feel smaller, the temperature somehow rising. Sweat prickles along my shoulders, my throat dry. I glance at the wine bottle and see we’ve finished it. My cheeks feel hot and Merek Belmis is still looking at me. It feels as if he’s looking through me. As my eyes move back to meet his, his tongue moistens his upper lip, and I find myself hypnotized by the motion, and then I mimic it, and his breath catches; I hear it.
Would it be so wrong if something were to happen?
I reel away from the thought as if it was a physical thing. “I’ll get more wine,” I say, breaking the spell.
“No. We have training in the morning. Hope asked me to work with you. We should probably get some sleep.”
It takes me a moment to understand he’s rejecting me, too. And to my surprise, it hurts.
“Of course,” I say in a too-bright voice, hauling myself to my feet and staggering in the process.
He reaches out a hand and steadies me, and heat rises again in my skin.
“I’ll see you in the morning, then.” I turn to leave, only for his hand to curve around my hip, urging me to turn.
“Twylla.”
There is a familiar twist in my stomach, but not one that’s ever come from Merek saying my name before. When I look at him, his pupils are wide in the dim light, his dark eyes fixed on mine.
“If you were less drunk—”
“I’m not—” I begin, but he continues talking.
“All right. If you hadn’t had anything to drink, and if I was a lot surer about what I think just happened, I would cheerfully pull you into my bed right now. I’ve wanted to for a long time, you know that.”
I swallow.
“You said once that if you came to me, it would be because you chose me. And right now I don’t think it’s a choice you can make.” He pauses, and then grins wickedly, in a way I’ve never seen him smile before. It’s so startling that I look down. “However, if you ever come to me sober, because you’ve decided you do want me, I will make it worth your while.”
I look back up at him to see his eyes blazing. His fingers tighten momentarily on my hip before releasing me.
“Because I still want you. And only you.”
I flee from the room before I do something we both might regret.
I manage to get up in time to see everyone off, but only because Nia makes such a Gods-awful racket as she packs in the morning that it’s easier than lying in bed, waiting for my headache to dissipate. When I arrived back at our room last night, she was already fast asleep, but Errin was awake, lying stomach-down on her pallet, a candle beside her while she scribbled on a piece of parchment. She looked up at me when I arrived back in our room, and raised her brows, and heat flooded me again, guilt at being caught. I saw her wrists and ankles were already bound, something I should have been in charge of. But she didn’t say anything, just smiled faintly and looked back at her work, while I crawled into bed and hid my face beneath the covers.
“So, you and the king. Missing the feast. Together. We all noticed. Ymilla was distraught.” Nia’s voice is rich with questions as she hastily stuffs her things in a bag, barely looking at them.
“We had plans to make. We’re about to go to war.”
“Is that what they call it in Lormere?”
“Nia,” Errin warns, sitting up and rubbing her eyes one by one with her bound hands.
Nia says nothing, suppressing a smirk as she finishes packing. I throw Errin a thankful glance and she gives me a nod of solidarity.
When I arrive at the refectory with Errin, Merek is already seated. I feel my skin start to heat, and mutter at Errin that I’ll see her later, as I turn to sit with Stuan, Hobb, and some of the other men instead.
The moment I sit, they all stand and bow, and across the room I see Merek’s mouth twitch.
“Gentlemen,” I say to the guards, imploring them to sit. “No need to be formal. I just wanted to thank you all for your hard work.”
Stuan and Hobb sit up tall and nod. And as I tear into my bread, I see Errin and Nia have joined Merek, along with Ymilla.
I look at Ymilla, younger than Helewys, older than I. Older than Merek, too, but what does that matter? She smiles at him from beneath her eyelashes and I wonder if he’d consider her. She knows court life, loves it, even. Of all of us here, I think she’s the one who misses it most of all. She’d be a good wife to him.
I stab at my bacon and glower at Hobb and Stuan when they exchange questioning glances. Forcing a piece into my mouth, I chew furiously. Why am I wasting time thinking about who Merek might marry when I have plenty to actually occupy me? Like a war.
I keep my head down for the rest of the meal, listening idly to the chatter of the guards, until they fall silent, looking beyond me. When I turn to see what caught their attention, I find Merek is standing behind me.
“Are you ready to practice?” he says.
I look up at him. “Are you able, with your injury?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you out there.”
He turns sharply away, leaving me watching after him. I can tell he’s trying to disguise his limp. Stupid boy.
* * *
I say a discreet good-bye to Kirin, Nia, Hope, and Ulrin—who has been sworn to absolute secrecy about where he’s going—making no more fuss than I would if they really were going on a spying mission. Kirin promises that he and Nia will be back within a week, that they won’t tarry at all, and that they’ll be careful, and Hope says she expects to not be much behind them. Despite that, they take rations enough for two weeks, causing Ema to eye us suspiciously.
When I step into the courtyard, Merek is waiting, leaning against the wall and seemingly staring at his reflection in his sword.
“You look fine,” I call.
His lips quirk. “If we’re exchanging compliments before blows, so do you. Sleep well?”
“Like a log,” I lie. “You.”
“Not so well. Disturbing dreams. Images in my head that were hard to ignore.”
I blink. “Pity. Perhaps you should go and rest. After all, you’re still recovering from serious wounds.”
“We’re at war. Twylla. No time to rest.” His smile is politic, not a smile at all.
“You’re right. We’re all very busy. Can we begin?”
He snorts, a kind of laugh, and bows. “As my lady so desires.”
I bow by return and then we begin to circle each other. After a moment, it becomes clear he’s waiting for me to strike, so I feign a blow. As soon as he moves to block it, I swing back and catch him on the thigh with the flat of the sword, delivering a sharp slap that makes him yelp.
“Really?” he says, the creases at the corners of his eyes blossoming. He swings his sword in an arrogant figure eight and then lunges at me. And the very moment I move to defend the blow, he taps my backside with his sword.
I glare at him. “If you’re not going to take this seriously.”
“You started it.”
I roll my eyes. I make a few thrusts, and he parries, but lightly. At first I think he’s taking care with his leg, and I try not to make him work too hard, fearful of hurting him further. But then I realize he’s not holding back because of himself, but because of me. He won’t fight me.
I work a little harder, moving faster, thrusting at him more often, and still he barely moves to block me, still he doesn’t fight back. It reminds me of when Lief and he fought, and how Lief played with him, made him think they might be equals, and it makes me
furious at the stupid games we all keep playing with one another.
So I attack.
I go against everything Hope ever taught me, slashing and hacking and moving so fast his sword is a blur as he blocks every strike. And I strike, and strike, and strike, because out of nowhere I’m full of rage and I don’t know why. I just need to keep hitting, and Merek keeps taking it; never once does he attempt to disarm me.
“Fight back,” I spit at him. “I don’t want your charity. Fight back.”
As I whirl my sword, I catch Stuan, Ymilla, Ema, Errin, and Hobb standing watching us. So many faces I know. Watching him doing so little as I give it everything I have, and the weight of the humiliation is crushing. I falter for a moment, lowering my sword. I look over at Merek and see he, too, looks upset, his mouth tight, his eyes darting between me and the crowd. When he finally attacks, I feel nothing but relief.
* * *
“How’s your arm?” Merek asks as I glower at him. Back in our rooms, Errin is patching me up. Merek looks wretched.
“Fine.” Errin finishes applying some kind of green paste to the shallow cut on my forearm.
“Your turn,” she says to Merek, and I stand, maneuvering past him as he sits down and presents his cheek to Errin.
My eyes meet hers as she applies the same paste to the graze there.
I didn’t mean to cut him. But I’m sure I see recrimination in Errin’s eyes as she attends to Merek.
Without saying a word, I leave them, moving swiftly down the corridor to the women’s wardrobe, to prepare to go into the mountains. I pull out pale brown colors that will blend into the mountain at winter. High above us the peaks are white year-round, reigned by snow and ice. But the water of Lor Mere, the namesake pool of the land, is perpetually warm, the ground heated by the hot springs beneath it, and that’s where we’ll find the yellow asulfer rocks we need for the Opus Magnum. I change into the tunic and breeches, pulling out a belt and cloak to match and putting my boots back on. My hair is wound against my head, and I dull it using a powder Hope showed me how to make from walnut and rhubarb, muting the red to a light muddy brown. I throw a thick brown cloak around my shoulders and then head off to meet Stuan.
But when I approach the doors, it’s Merek who waits for me.
“Where’s Stuan?”
“Guarding Errin. He doesn’t feel comfortable leaving her here without you or Hope, under the circumstances. So I offered to take his place.”
I scowl at him. He’s dressed similarly to me, muted colors, loose-fitting clothes. There’s a small messenger’s bag over his shoulder.
“I know where the mere is,” he says. “I’ve been often. So I won’t be useless to you.”
“What about your leg?”
“It’s fine.”
“We’ll have to climb.”
“I said it’s fine.”
I’m not going to win here. “Let’s go, then. I’d like to be back by nightfall.”
* * *
It’s not the first time I’ve left the compound under the watch of someone else, but it is the first time I’ve left it without Hope, Nia, or Kirin being there. I trust Errin and Stuan—in fact, I trust everyone. They’re not fools; they’re not going to run wild without my being there. But I feel guilty, as though I’ve left them undefended. Merek, to his credit, lets me brood on it as we walk the mountain paths, through the high meadow where the cows still graze, thanks to fortunate mountain currents, and along the goat-made tracks, occasionally coming across some of the strange-eyed, pretty beasts perched on rocks.
We pause at noon, the sun a pale gold blur above us, and Merek shares the water and food from his bag. Then we walk on, and an hour later we come to the mere.
Ever since I arrived at the castle, the queen talked of her mere. It’s supposedly the pool Lormere was named for. Lormere—the Lord’s Mere. Named after Dæg, and the golden rocks embedded in the earth around it.
No one told me it would stink.
The air is heavy with sulfur, thick and choking, a thousand times worse than in the baths, and I glare at Merek with streaming eyes.
“This was the fertility lake?” I gasp, burying my chin inside my cloak and taking a deep breath.
He nods, his own face covered so only his eyes peek over the top.
I shake my head, moving closer to the water. It’s warm here, and soon I have to choose between coming to terms with the smell or boiling alive in my cloak. I shed the cloak and leave it over a rock as I explore the mere, breathing through my mouth. There is the one large pool—clearly the bathing one—but small ones around it, like moons or courtiers, and these are much more active, alive, bubbling and belching and rushing, and surrounded by sticks bearing torn red flags. When I pull my gloves off and dip my fingers in one, the heat is almost too much; I have to snatch them back out and blow on them.
And when one of the pools shoots high into the sky in a roar of water, I scream and fall back onto the ground.
As the jet evaporates into the air and a cavern appears momentarily beneath where the water erupted from, I hear Merek laughing.
It stings and I scramble back to my feet, brushing golden dust from my clothes. “Thank you for the warning. Hilarious to laugh at the peasant girl who knows nothing. Pity your mother couldn’t have seen it.” His face falls instantly, but I don’t allow myself to feel bad for it. “We’re here to do a job, if you’ve had your fun, Your Majesty.”
He grabs my arm as I spin away and tugs me back around to look at him. “Forgive me,” he says instantly, no excuses, no explanations. Just remorse and the offer of a genuine apology. I’d forgotten that about him. “I should have told you what would happen.” He pauses, and I shrug an acceptance. “Please.” He pulls a little, asking me to go with him. And I allow it, letting him lead me to a few feet from where the water emerged. He stands behind me as I cross my arms, and leans down to speak softly to me. “Look,” he says. “It’s like the ground is breathing. You’ll know when it’s going to go, because it looks like it’s taking one final deep breath. Watch. In, and out. In, and out, getting deeper each time.”
I watch the water, and see that he’s right. The cavity beneath the pool is like a mouth, sucking in, pushing out, and the water ebbs and swells with it.
“It won’t be long.” Merek’s mouth is level with my ear, his breath stroking across the shell of it. I can smell the herbal paste Errin smeared over his cut, but before I can let my mind wander that way, the water explodes into the air.
I gasp and step back into Merek. His hands grip my hips reflexively, holding me, and we watch the water surge upward before it falls, tapering into mist and then vanishing.
“Let’s get these rocks and go home.” His voice is a rumble against my back, and I nod.
He releases me, and we begin to gather the stones, prying them out of the mud and adding them to his bag. We take a lot, giving Errin plenty to choose from. We work in silence, though every now and then I feel his eyes on me, and when I think it’s safe I steal glances at him, watching his long fingers turn over the stones, watching him chew his lip as he decides what to take and what to discard.
I pluck out one final chunk of yellow rock, all but inured to the smell of the water now. I toss it over to Merek and then sit back, wiping at my face. My hand comes away damp and grimy, sweat and steam and the powder mingling together, and I wipe my hand on my breeches.
“Do you think we have enough?”
“I’d say so.”
Merek stands, and stretches, and slings the bag over his shoulder. “Come on,” he says. He walks over, offering me a hand, and I grab it. He pulls me up, and I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. They’re hungry, dark, and his lips are parted.
And I know with sudden conviction I’m going to kiss Merek Belmis.
He grabs my wrists and becomes motionless. “Listen,” he breathes before I have a chance to be embarrassed.
I do, trying to hear beyond my own thundering heart.
Then
I hear what he somehow miraculously heard: voices, and footsteps. Distant, but still too close for comfort.
We move fast, ducking behind an outcrop of rock as I scramble to pull my cloak out of view. Minutes pass, and the voices get louder. Lormerian, male, and gruff. I can’t make out more than the occasional word. The tone isn’t urgent; it sounds like they’re grumbling. As it begins to quiet down, Merek turns to me.
“What else is near here?” he says quietly. “The children’s camp?”
I shake my head. “That’s a mile east of here, roughly, over the next pass.” I point to our right at the small ridge there. “There is a route directly there from the ground that’s much easier to climb.”
Merek looks after the men. “Maybe there’s some reason for them to use this path instead? Avalanche on the usual route? Landslide?”
“It’s possible.” I hesitate.
“Let’s follow them. Just to be sure of where they’re going. Anyone in the mountains is a bad sign.”
I nod and throw my cloak over my shoulders, he takes the bag of asulfer, and we track the men, climbing a little higher than them, and keeping our distance. There are four of them, wearing black tabards with the Solaris on them. Two carry large sacks, which, despite bulging heavily, don’t appear to trouble them too much. A third carries a thick canvas roll, which seemingly is heavier, for he walks slower and shifts the weight from one arm to the other, until the fourth man takes it from him. Merek and I don’t speak at all as we follow their path across the mountain, occasionally falling behind when we have to move farther up, or down, in order to keep following them. It soon becomes apparent that Merek’s hunch was right and that, for some reason, the men are using the path to the mere to reach the children’s camp.
As we get closer, Merek tugs my cloak and gestures for me to stop. “Where exactly are the children being kept?”
“There’s a cave system,” I whisper. “Three large caverns, and a few smaller ones, though we don’t know how far back they go. The smallest children are in one, and the men there have assigned the older girls to care for them. Come on—let’s get a bit closer and I’ll introduce you to our men on watch.”
The Scarecrow Queen Page 23