“Wonderful. What are the others going to think when they see this?” I say. “They’re already terrified. How will it look when I emerge with white hair and eyes?”
“Can’t we play up the Daunen angle?” Errin says, as Stuan once again gazes at me with open disgust. I meet his eyes, and he immediately looks away. “Can’t we imply it’s something to do with that? Some sign of favor?”
I look at Merek, who, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. “It’s possible …” he says.
“But?”
He takes a breath. “I always swore I would do things differently from my mother. I’m not going to push the Gods on people. If the people want to believe, that’s their choice, but for me, implying we’ll be victorious because of a living Goddess is counterproductive. I want the people to choose for themselves where their faith lies.”
I smile at him, and he holds my gaze. Warmth blossoms in my stomach.
Errin clears her throat pointedly. “Well, let’s discuss this again in the morning. Everyone should be in bed now anyway. It’s late. Or rather, early,” she says, dousing her fires and tidying the ingredients away. Merek turns to help her, and I look at my reflection again.
“I think it’s best to keep covered, for now,” I say. “There will be too many questions, and everyone is already on edge.”
“Your helmet,” Merek says as he passes a flask to Errin. “We’ll have some mesh put over the eye slits.”
I nod. “That’ll work. We’ll have to keep me away from the children, too.”
“It’ll be a nice surprise for Aurek.” Errin turns, grinning. “When you descend on him, white-eyed and gnashing your teeth.”
I narrow my newly pearlescent eyes at her.
“That’s exactly the look you should go with,” she adds cheerily.
“Well, as long as it has some use.”
They finish their tidying swiftly, efficiently, and Errin places the Opus Mortem in a small wooden box, which she cradles in her arms before looking at me expectantly.
“I suppose we’d better get some sleep, then,” I say.
There’s an awkward pause, when no one knows quite what to do, or where they ought to go. Errin breaks the moment.
“Come on, Stuan, time to tie me up for bed.”
He splutters furiously, and Errin tips me a wink as she sashays out of the room, him trailing behind her like a puppy.
“Come on,” Merek says to me, holding out a hand. It feels natural and unnatural all at once to take it.
We walk slowly down the corridor of the women’s quarters, not speaking. We see no one, hearing the sounds of slumber from behind the other curtains. When we reach my—our—room, he holds the curtain aside and I enter, remembering at the last minute that Nia is back, and expecting to see her there. But the room is empty, and a hollow weight fills my stomach. We’re alone.
Merek follows me, and I feel oddly present, more in my skin than I’ve been aware of before. Usually, he works so late in the lab that I’m asleep when he comes to the room, and I see him only when I wrench myself from my nightmares. When I hear the curtain rustle again, I think he’s left me, and turn, panicked, only to see him reenter with a candle, lit from the torch in the corridor.
He places it on the table by his bed and looks at me. And in the bright glow of the flame, his eyes are hungry.
“If you’d rather I left, I understand,” he says.
I shake my head, my mouth too dry to speak.
“So you don’t mind if I sleep here?”
I shake my head again.
“Twylla …”
“I don’t mind if you stay,” I manage to say, in a voice that sounds aeons older than I am. Then: “I want you to stay.”
A shudder runs through him, but he stays still, watching me.
“Unless you want to go?” It dawns on me that he might be asking for permission to leave. That he only meant to walk me here and then leave. “You can if you want.”
“That’s not what I want.” His voice is low, intimate. A bedroom voice.
When I hold out my hand, he comes to me, taking it, pressing it to his chest, then his cheek. Gently, I move it away and reach for the bottom of his tunic, pulling it over his head. He raises his arms to help me, and I drop the garment to the ground. Then his breeches; I loosen the belt and the ties until they slip down his narrow hips, pooling at his feet, and he steps out of them.
It’s his turn, then, to pull my tunic off, to unlace my breeches. We uncover each other with gentle haste, fingertips brushing lightly over skin, but never lingering, never seeking. When he drops my undershirt to the floor, we look at each other, naked, our skin gleaming faintly in the dim candlelight.
He takes my face in his hands and presses one kiss against my lips, holding it there, the skin of his chest a whisper against mine. Then he takes my hand and leads me to my bed. He climbs under the covers and I follow, molding myself around him as he lies back, my head on his shoulder, one of his arms under my back, the other over my waist. I rest a hand on his chest, feel his heart beating beneath it, tangle my legs between his. Without speaking, we lie down together and curl around each other like kittens. I can feel that he wants me, and I want him, too, the ache low in my belly, my heart thrumming like a harp string. But neither of us does anything more. The hand on my shoulder rises to stroke my hair, and he turns his head, kiss after kiss landing softly against my brow.
I turn and kiss the hollow where his neck and his shoulder meet, breathing him in.
Then, for the first time in four weeks, I fall asleep and stay peacefully asleep, in the arms of the king of Lormere.
* * *
When I wake I’m alone, and I sit up so rapidly that I make myself dizzy.
Merek is fully dressed, and seated on Nia’s—his—bed, a cup in hand, steam spiraling out of the top. He looks over at me and blinks, momentarily startled by my eyes, but then his gaze moves lower, and the way he smiles sends a shock wave of feeling down my spine.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Good afternoon.”
“Is it? Oh Gods …” I pull the sheet up over my chest and swing my legs off the bed.
“It’s fine, Twylla. Everything is under control. Hope, Nia, and Kirin have been up since a little after dawn, and they’ve arranged everything according to your instructions. The scouts and support have been sent out to their stations. Kirin has a list of people who are going tonight, and it’s a sizable group.”
I blink at him, a sharp pulse of irritation crackling through me. “I should have been there.”
“A good leader delegates.” He puts his cup down and walks over to me, the bed dipping as he sits, tumbling me into him. “And you did. And it worked. Congratulations.”
I tamp down the annoyance and raise a small smile. “So who is going tonight?” I ask.
He runs his thumb along my collarbone, goose bumps rising along my arms. “Kirin, Hobb, Breena, Ema, Ulrin …” He reels off a list of names. “Stuan, and me.” He kisses my shoulder.
“Stuan isn’t staying here with Errin?”
“No.” He pauses. “You are.”
“What?” I shift away from him.
“Listen, I told Hope about your eyes—don’t look at me like that, I had to warn her because—”
“You went to her while I slept, to discuss me?”
“Twylla—”
“Shut up, Merek,” I snap at him, and he flinches. “Are you telling me after everything that happened between us before, you went and arranged things without me? Again? You climbed out of my bed to go behind my back and make a plan with my army?”
“Twylla, please …”
“Get out!” I shout at him. “Go.”
His eyes widen but I don’t care. With the sheet still wrapped around me I stumble from the bed and search for my clothes, my fury mounting when I see them folded, placed on the bureau.
“Why are you still here?” I round on him as I reach for my undershirt. “I told you to leave.”
>
And he does.
The underarm of my tunic tears in my haste to yank it over my head, and I rip it off and throw it into the corner of the room, reaching for another, almost tearing that one, too. As soon as I’ve pulled my boots on, I fly from the room like a storm, blazing down the corridor, looking for Hope, and Nia, and Kirin. Those traitors.
My footsteps thunder through the stone passageways, warning anyone in my path to move as I head for where I know they’ll be, ensconced together, plotting without me. So they think they don’t need me now? That I’ve played my part? I throw open the doors to the strategy room and find them all in there, the whole group going to liberate the camp tonight. Even Errin sits with them, and they all turn as one to stare at me as I stand in the doorway, seething.
“If you think—” is as far as I get before they all start bellowing.
“Her eyes! Her eyes!” I can hear Breena moaning.
“Her hair!”
“What’s happened to her?”
“She’s like him!”
“Silence!” Hope’s voice rings through the room.
They immediately obey and Hope looks at me.
“Merek told you, about tonight?” she asks.
He flinches when I meet his eyes. “He extended me that courtesy,” I spit.
Hope looks between us, her expression thoughtful, then around the room at the others, and I follow her gaze. Everyone save Errin and Stuan is staring at me, mouths turned down at the corners, hands balled into fists, unable to conceal their revulsion. Their fear.
“You see now one of the reasons why it’s not a good idea for you to be involved in the liberation of the children,” she says quietly.
And I do. Nothing could have demonstrated it more.
“I could wear a helmet,” I say. But I know it’s too late.
“What the bloody hell happened to you?” Ulrin asks.
“We had an accident in the laboratory last night,” Merek says. “We were making some healing potions and she was splashed.”
“And that turned her hair and eyes white, did it?” Ema asks. “Changed the color of them? Give over, Your Majesty. We weren’t born yesterday.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t an accident in the laboratory,” I say, anger spiking again when she looks back at me and winces. I tamp it down; it’s not her fault. “I can’t tell you what happened, because it’s not really my story to tell. But if you truly don’t want me to come with you tonight, I won’t.”
“It’s not us, lass, it’s the children.” Ulrin speaks for them all. “If they see you … If this brainwashing thing is true, it’s going to be hard enough to convince them we’re on their side. I don’t imagine a white-eyed woman is going to convince them we’re not the bad guys here. How long is this … accident going to last?”
“I don’t know. I believe it’s permanent.”
They start to mutter again, and Stuan shifts his weight menacingly. I feel a rush of affection for him.
“It’ll put the fear of the Gods into the Sleeping Prince, though,” Hobb says finally, echoing what Errin said last night. “If you go at him the way you flew at us in here, he’ll hand you the crown and fall on his own sword.”
A few of them smile, Ulrin laughs, and I know it’s over. That’s it. I’m not going tonight. I’ll wait here, like an anxious princess waiting for her prince to come home. Like before.
I want to bolt from the room before I lash out and hurt someone. I want to go into the garden and bury my hands in the ground. I want to go and hide in Hope’s cottage and cry until I’m wrung out.
I want to pluck Merek Belmis’s stupid brown eyes out of his head so he can’t gaze at me with that sorrowful, pleading expression.
But I do none of those things.
“Tell me the plan.” I leave Stuan and take my place at the head of the table, making sure to meet everyone’s eyes with my white ones, not looking away when they flinch. “Talk me through the whole thing. I want to know every detail of what you’re going to do.”
The relief is palpable as everyone draws together around the table and Kirin begins to speak.
Merek remains by the door, but he can take himself through it and walk into the ocean for all I care right now.
* * *
With half of our people now moving stealthily across the country to be in place for the final battle, I decide to move everyone remaining to the women’s quarters, freeing up the men’s for the children. The rooms will be crammed tight, but they’ll be better here with us than in the mountains. As everyone leaves to move their belongings, I return to my table and look over the map once more.
“Where shall I sleep?” Merek appears at my side, his voice low.
“You can sleep where you like. I honestly don’t care,” I reply, not bothering to keep the volume down.
I can feel him watching me, and I fix my attention on the West Woods, clamping my teeth together to stop myself saying any more.
“I’m sorry,” he says before he moves away, leaving the space, where he was, cold.
I look up to watch him leave, and catch Errin’s eye. When she raises her eyebrows, my own pull into a scowl and I look back at my map, forcing myself to focus on routes we’ve planned.
* * *
We come back together, all of us, later in the evening, and without planning to, we head as one into the kitchens and put supper together, chopping vegetables, passing spices, cutting bread. We behave as a family, and when it’s time to eat, I sit with Errin and Stuan, wedging myself between them and refusing to acknowledge that Merek is there at all. I make him the black sheep of us, and soon everyone is turning a little away from him, understanding that he’s lost my favor. Hope’s words in the cottage come back to me, about how they would choose me, but I take no pleasure from them now.
I know I’m being childish and that we have much bigger issues to contend with, but I can’t put out the fire inside me. Of everyone, I trusted him, and Errin, the most. Of everyone, I thought he knew me, understood me. And in the end he did exactly what Lief did, what the queen did, what my mother did. He made a decision on my behalf.
He robbed me of the chance to be there at the start of my own plan. He issued orders to my people, sent out the parties without even bothering to check with me. He assumed control. At this moment, I can’t forgive him for it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.
Once the supper is over, once the last of the gravy has been mopped from the bowls, they all leave to go and put on their armor, the large room emptying quickly. Merek lingers, attempting to catch my eye, but I plant myself in the midst of them all, laughing and jostling with them. I move amongst them, helping tie buckles, passing padding and gauntlets when I’m asked. I hug them, pat shoulders, even kiss Stuan’s cheek. In the corner, Merek puts on his armor alone; like everyone else’s, it’s mismatched and cobbled together from scraps of armor, and whatever else we could find. But on him it looks saddest of all; whether that’s because he’s the king and should be clad better, or because he’s on the outside of this, I don’t know.
Finally they’re ready. Everyone falls silent at the same moment, looking amongst one another.
“Good luck,” I say. There’s nothing else to say. “Come back safely. All of you.”
Stuan, Kirin, and Hobb all bow, and the others nod. All of the camaraderie has gone, replaced with focus, and fear. The faces of the people before me look both younger and older all at once—when Nia smiles at me from inside her already dented helmet, I can see her as a girl, and how she’ll look as an old woman. They turn to leave, and Errin and I follow them, right to the doors.
As they start to disappear into the night, I call Merek back without ever fully planning to do it.
“Merek. Wait.”
He stops, and turns, looking at me cautiously. Errin melts back into the commune, leaving us alone. I walk toward him, and he toward me. We meet in the middle. For a long moment I look at him, unable to find the words I need, half tempted to slap
him and then send him on his way.
“I’m still furious with you,” I begin.
“I know, and—”
“Will you let me finish?” I say, and he nods, hanging his head. “I’m still furious with you. You left me out of my own plan. You should have woken me so I could be included. So I could be the one who gave the order to go. I worked so hard for their trust, Merek. You have no idea.” At that he raises his head, questions in his gaze, but I don’t allow him to ask them. “I know you’re the rightful king of Lormere, but here and now, this is mine. My kingdom. My people. Weeks of preparation and training and risk went into making this plan. And you took control of it, from me, without a second thought.”
He nods, but keeps his eyes on mine. “I am so very sorry, Twylla. I would give anything to earn your favor again. To right this wrong.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” I say. “And to that end, I insist you come back in one piece, so I can make the next few days an absolute misery for you because of it. Do I make myself clear?”
He looks momentarily confused, and then smiles. A real, true smile.
“You’ve got a lot of making up to do, Merek Belmis,” I say. “So I’ll see you back here by morning. All right?”
“As you command, my lady.” He sweeps into a bow and smiles again before jogging after the others, who’ve very sensibly not waited for him.
I watch until the gleam of his armor fades, and then close the doors.
There is no one in the refectory; Bron and Dilys, and assumedly Ymilla, too, have gone to bed. I make my way down the women’s corridor, heading to my room. Errin isn’t there when I enter, and I’m too restless to sleep, so I leave and walk back to the kitchen, fetching some wine and two goblets. I take them to the laboratory, sure that’s where I’ll find Errin, and as I get closer, I can hear her muttering to herself. Despite everything, I start to smile.
But my smile dies when something in the room breaks, and she cries out. “No, please. No.”
Panicked by the terror in her tone, I pick up my pace and run into the room.
The Scarecrow Queen Page 27