Isadora

by Charlotte McConaghy

  ‘More will be coming,’ he breathed, and I could hear an alarming wheezing in his lungs. ‘We cannot go through the castle.’

  ‘The window,’ Ella said and I knew she was right – if someone could enter through the window then we could escape through it.

  But Erik had slumped to the ground and was struggling to breathe. I pulled open his tunic and undershirt to see that his chest was bruised and swollen.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ Sadie asked, her panicked voice pitched high.

  ‘His lung has been punctured,’ I replied. ‘Lock that door and find me something sharp.’

  Sadie went for the door while Ella dashed to search through drawers until she found a letter opener. ‘Will this do?’

  ‘Yes, quickly.’ My kit was in my room, but I couldn’t risk going for it. Not when there were more soldiers coming.

  ‘Go,’ Erik wheezed. ‘Forget this.’

  I ignored him and took the letter opener, using my fingers to feel between his ribs for the right spot.

  ‘Roselyn,’ he gasped, struggling terribly to get any air.

  ‘Hush.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ he uttered, and there were tears in his eyes and I knew that he knew, he knew and he was looking at me with such pain that I couldn’t bear it, and I had to drop my gaze to the task.

  I pressed the tip of the letter opener to his flesh.

  ‘Rose,’ Sadie whispered, kneeling on his other side. ‘You’re crying.’

  I lifted a hand to discover my cheek was wet. Impatiently, I dashed the tears away and swallowed.

  Above the rib. It had to be just above, for below there were nerves and an artery, which would kill him if I hit it. I made a small incision – my tool wasn’t sharp enough and made a mess, but I managed to get it in and turn it sideways so air could fill Erik’s lung. How fragile, this flesh.

  He took a mighty gasp that rushed so quickly to his head that he passed out. Oh gods. I covered the incision and then tried to rouse him, but he was out cold, probably from a concussion received earlier. I glanced at the girls, unsure what to do.

  ‘He was protecting us,’ Ella said. ‘He comes.’

  I nodded. But how? I couldn’t carry him – certainly not out a window. I was no good at solving problems of this nature.

  ‘We’ll use the sheets!’ Sadie exclaimed. ‘Like the cinder girl in the story – she ties bed sheets to the window and climbs down them.’

  ‘He can’t climb down anything,’ Ella pointed out.

  ‘No, I mean we’ll wrap him in one and use others to lower him down.’

  I let out a breath. ‘Clever girl.’

  We hurried to strip the beds and tie the linen together. We wrapped Erik – a rolled up sheet beneath his arms and around his waist – then slid him to the window. Even with three of us we couldn’t lift him, so Ella climbed out onto the sill and hooked one of the sheets over a thick branch. This we attached to Erik’s harness so we could heave him up and over. The girls both gave a squeal as he swung, suspended over the drop.

  Footsteps and voices approached along the corridor.

  I started lowering Erik, wedging my feet against the wall and wrapping the sheets around my palms so I wouldn’t drop him. The soldiers in the hallway were storming through the rooms on either side of us and hammering on our door – they’d be inside soon. I quickened my pace, arms trembling with fatigue.

  Ella and Sadie both scampered easily down the tree branches until they’d reached the ground. They waved at me, motioning to lower him further but there was no more sheet. The lock on the door was about to give out. I made a choice, and dropped him.

  Then I leapt onto the tree branch, turning to close the window behind me so the soldiers might not realise at once how we’d escaped. I edged my way down, terrified of falling and counting loud and fast in my mind to make it stop, to banish this poisonous fear –

  The scent of rum on his breath was still in my nose. I was saturated in it.

  I finally made it to the ground, where panic and adrenalin helped me drag Erik behind some trees. ‘Don’t worry, he’s still alive,’ Sadie assured me and I sagged in relief. My body hurt and I’d been too panicked to think of grabbing cloaks or shoes for us. Foolish, foolish woman, I cursed myself. It would be my fault when we froze to death.

  I shrugged out of my robe and tore it into strips, which I wrapped around Ella and Sadie’s feet. Ella protested that she didn’t need it, but I replied that now wasn’t the time to argue. The rest of the material I wrapped around their heads and shoulders.

  Now I had to find us somewhere safe, somewhere warm. To hide and wait for Thorne and Ambrose. Where were they? Why had they not yet come? I hardly knew Vjort; I had been through its streets but once this evening, inside a carriage. The same carriage would now offer at least a little shelter and anonymity. And the only place I knew about was – ‘The temple,’ I murmured. Finn had told me about it a thousand times. ‘Our carriage is in the stables. We’ll use it to find the temple.’

  We crept through the castle grounds, slowly dragging Erik along as quietly as we could. My feet were numb from cold and my hands had turned blue. I kept having to clench my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering ferociously. If only Erik would wake.

  The carriage was at the far end of the stables and after I’d painstakingly harnessed our horse I used some of the carriage’s upholstery to drape around me like a cloak. I would need it to hide my hair colour, and as relief against the frigid air. I was frightened I’d gotten too cold, that the chill would never leave my bones. This was how you died in the north: by forgetting for a single second, by lowering your guard and allowing the freeze to slip inside.

  The sound of my beating heart seemed to drown out even the racket of the wooden wheels against the cobblestones as I drove the carriage. My mind wanted away, to hide from all of this, to simply distract itself and flee into the safety of imagination. My body wanted warmth and rest, badly. Or, failing that, to be forgotten entirely. Discarded like a snake’s skin and left behind, used up. But I had not earned those things yet. There would be no stopping or slowing. My body no longer had anything to do with me, except as a means of protecting the children. I must get them to safety. That was what life meant. That was what it was for.

  It sounds like a beautiful life you’ve led. It sounds like it means something.

  Erik was right when he said that. My life did mean something: it meant the love of my son, and of these two girls. It meant more than anything any man could do to me. For the first time in my life I felt an iron fist take hold of my heart. I felt the steel of the Sword curl around my spine and straighten it.

  It was close to dawn by the time we reached the temple. We’d been hiding and searching and evading for hours. I’d lied my way past those who stopped our carriage to question us – and I had never lied so well. Before tonight, I’d barely known how. Necessity was motivation for anything. I staggered from the carriage to find the twins still wide-awake and overwrought – but profoundly courageous. Erik was thankfully still breathing. Inside the temple it was cold and empty. But we called out and were soon met by an old couple who’d risen from their beds in the cottage attached to the main building. I explained who we were and they were so kind – just as Finn had described them – that I felt my soul swept out in a tide of weariness.

  They took us into the basement, where they said no one would think to look for us. They gave us blankets and water and promised they would hide us as long as we needed. But I knew we could only stay so long – if my son didn’t come for us here, then something was very wrong and I would have to get the girls out of the city myself. The old man – I had already forgotten his name in my delirium – helped me get Erik inside. We covered him and I checked him once more, determining that he would either wake or he wouldn’t and there wasn’t any more I could do for him. A spirit had to fight to survive, had to want it very much.

  Once the girls were wrapped up with warming bricks for their poor little feet,
I sank to the ground nearby. It was mere moments before they both moved to lie on either side of me, tightening their arms around me.

  I struggled against tears. For their sweetness and their courage. For their strength.

  ‘You’re safe,’ I whispered to them in the dark. Dawn was not far, but we wouldn’t know it down here – there was neither door nor window, only a dusty trapdoor beneath a rug.

  The longest night of my life. The coldest. But not the worst. No, it was not the worst.

  ‘Of course we are,’ Sadie replied.

  And Ella said, ‘We’re with you, Aunt Rose.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Isadora

  I’d spent time in the shadows, listening to snatches of conversations, until I was sure the Mad Ones had no suspects for the Palace Massacre, as it was being called. Which meant I was safe to return to the palace. I couldn’t face it now though – I’d go tomorrow. Tonight I would tint my hair and body, and try to leave my mind behind. I’d failed in everything I’d attempted so far, but I wouldn’t fail again.

  The way home took me through the abandoned cliff streets, past dead or dying trees and empty houses with salt-rimmed windows. It was dark and silent; I felt like the only creature left alive in this whole, desolate place. It wouldn’t be the case for much longer. The last attempt I made on Dren and Galia would surely see me dead, too: it seemed naive to hope I’d escape the palace a third time.

  As storm clouds rolled in from the sea and snatches of lightning lit the dark, I wondered what was in store for my soul. I didn’t believe, as most did, in the Gods. I didn’t believe in an underworld or a kingdom of endless glory, as the Pirenti folk did. I wasn’t sure what would become of me beyond providing food for worms. Justice should exist in this world, in our flesh and bones. Or perhaps that was simply my hope, because if there was an underworld waiting for us then surely a woman such as I would find herself condemned to its very lowest pit.

  I was imagining this when I felt him.

  I stopped walking. A tingling, thumping, throbbing.

  No. Not tonight. I was so close.

  His heartbeat drew near, hunting me.

  Fear spiked my blood, that animal urge to run, fight, kill. I closed my eyes, seeking calm. Perhaps after he died I would live long enough to return to the palace. Would I have the strength for that? There were half-walkers who did, but was it the love they felt that kept them alive?

  I would soon find out. Falco was coming for me, and I’d made a vow.

  Falco

  For two weeks we’d been working in the fish storage building to widen the drainage hole. The tunnel grew each day, but I knew we were running out of time. As Finn had pointed out on about eight thousand occasions, she and Osric could have blasted through the rock if only they’d been able to use their magic. This comment aggravated the diggers, to say the least, who toiled day and night.

  I didn’t help them. They believed it was because I didn’t want to dirty my hands or bend my back. I let them believe that, easier than explaining the truth: I had been spending my days and nights clearing the dead bodies. Carrying them one after the other from their homes to their burial because I couldn’t bear the thought that a single one might go to ground without a prayer whispered for their souls. For two weeks I lived among the dead, carried their bodies with trembling hands and tried to take the burden of their passing upon myself. I kissed their hands and I loved them and, because I couldn’t return them to the sea myself, I imagined the Goddess wrapping them in her feathered cloak and delivering them to its depths for me.

  I didn’t move the bodies of the warders with the tiny birds cut into their foreheads. Not because I didn’t pity these twisted men and women, but because their gruesome presence bolstered the hope and the fury of my remaining people. Loyalties were shifting, from a dethroned Emperor who’d left them to a rebellious Sparrow who fought.

  When my back ached too much to continue I went home for the night to wash the smell of death off my skin. Ava and Osric sat at the kitchen table, drinking whisky after a long day of digging. ‘The tunnel is nearly done,’ Ava said. Dirt streaked her face and hands.

  ‘Well done,’ I said, sinking into a chair beside them.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Os asked me.

  ‘Just walking.’ I looked at Ava. ‘If we smuggle people out, could you receive refugees?’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I’m more concerned about getting such a group safely to Pirenti.’

  ‘Sounds like a job for the mighty Pirenti army.’ I unrolled a map of the two countries.

  ‘Where did that come from?’ Ava asked.

  I shrugged. ‘I drew it.’ My finger traced the expanse of land, from Sancia to the safety of the Pirenti border. ‘It’s a long way. Do you think they can manage it?’

  She met my eyes. ‘Pirenti warriors have been fighting Kayan warders for centuries. If anyone can make the distance safely, it is they.’

  I nodded. I didn’t point out that they’d also been dying in battles against warders for centuries. ‘Will they come, if we ask?’

  Her eyebrows arched. ‘If their King would like to remain married to his wife, they will come. What of the other cities?’

  ‘Limontae is under warder dominion,’ Osric said. ‘And we know nothing of the southern regions.’

  ‘Sancia is our priority,’ I agreed. ‘We must focus on evacuating people from under the shadow of Dren and Galia’s power. I won’t attack and turn this city into a battleground while it is filled with innocent lives.’

  ‘And us? What do we do while the women and children flee?’ Osric asked.

  ‘We find a way into that palace to kill the Mad Ones.’

  He shook his head. ‘Impossible. There are too many within those walls, their magic too powerful. They know the trace I left when I jumped us from the palace, and would destroy us the moment I tried to enter.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I told him. ‘I know someone who can kill them.’ Before they could question me I cleared my throat. ‘I need you both to promise me something.’

  Two gazes remained unblinking, one a rich violet, the other a milky, streaky green.

  ‘If I die, I need you to carry this plan to its completion, or do whatever you must to free Kaya.’

  ‘You’re not going to die,’ Osric snapped.

  ‘I may. So promise.’

  ‘Of course,’ Ava said.

  ‘And then?’ Osric asked, clearly frustrated. ‘Who rules Kaya then? It certainly can’t be left to the bloodthirsty hands of the Sparrow.’

  ‘My only living relative inherits the throne,’ I said, looking at Ava. Her eyes flashed sky blue. Her thoughts were obvious: ruling here meant leaving her husband and splitting up her family.

  ‘I cannot rule two nations.’

  ‘No,’ I agreed, ‘you cannot. So I’ll try my best to not die.’

  Finn traipsed into the kitchen and leant mindlessly against the bench, clearly dead on her feet.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Mmph,’ she replied, or something to that effect, running a dirty hand through her dirty hair.

  ‘Have you seen Isadora?’ I asked. Finn shook her head. ‘Do you know where she is?’ Another head shake. ‘You wouldn’t keep it from me?’

  Finn sighed. ‘When you come to know Isadora, you’ll understand that no one truly knows Isadora. She comes and goes as she pleases like a wraith in the night. I haven’t a clue how she spends her time and if I were you I wouldn’t hope to find out.’

  I would find out, and soon. The pounding urgency to see my mate had been growing by the day, and I no longer had any desire to ignore it, even if it was pulling me swiftly to my death.

  Isadora

  I deliberately maintained a steady pace home. Blood rushed in my ears; I could taste rust in my mouth.

  I went straight to the balcony to watch the wild ocean. With my face to the wind, tiny drops of rain spattered my eyelids and lips, and the scent of its approach
filled my nose. My favourite smell, I realised. I had never thought to have favourites before had never taken the time to think about what gave me pleasure. But here it was, my favourite smell: rain. And this was not the thought of someone hardening herself to kill a man.

  I gripped the edge of the wooden railing with knuckles turned white. Waves crashed below, black as tar and far more savage. I pictured my pale body falling to smash against those rocks; churning ferociously beneath the surface, no way out or up or free.

  Stop it.

  My mind and heart were not under my control, but they had to be, now more than ever. I needed pain, like in the dreams. Pain to tether me to reality. The dagger on my wrist lay flat against my skin until I turned its edge to my flesh. Blood bloomed and the pain was white hot.

  It vanquished both the falling image and the pleasure of the rain. I walked inside, away from the smell and the sight. Pleasure was too weakening. Hatred too raw, and too close to love. So do it with detachment. He wouldn’t be long; I could feel him approaching.

  My hands traced the knives strapped to my body. Perhaps they would feel the hatred and the pleasure, while I felt nothing. Perhaps they would kill him, instead of me.

  He was so close now. He doesn’t have power over you, I told myself, screamed at myself. This bond has no power – you will give it none.

  The door banged open and there he stood.

  Instinct demanded I close my eyes, keep them shut until I died. But I believed in the butcher or the meat, the hunter or the prey, so I forced them open and refused to blink. I gazed at him with all the fire of twelve years’ torture, with the bars of a cage and the bones of sparrows, and a wasted life, a wasted heart, a useless endless sea of waste.

  He was an outline in the doorway, lit from behind by the flash of lightning. How often he was obscured, how rarely I saw his face. It was so easy to mistake him for someone else. But maybe that was my fault instead of his, my eyes that looked at him and so often saw a stranger. I would look at him now, honestly and unburdened by indecision. I would see him: it was my last chance.