‘You don’t say.’
The kindred around the clearing tensed at her terse remark. It was rude of her. She shouldn’t have said it, and with everything Allehra was trying to do for her …
The queen smiled, however, waving the kindred away and leaning both spears against a nearby tree.
‘Come with me,’ she said, beckoning Bleak to follow. ‘Your services are not required,’ she told the kindred guards.
Athene started after them. ‘Allehra, Your Majesty, please. At least allow me —’
‘Your services are not required,’ the queen repeated, and pulled Bleak into the depths of the forest after her.
They walked downhill, Bleak slipping on loose rocks despite the leather boots she’d been given. After a time, they came upon a small creek and walked alongside it. The queen had put the leather pouch back around her neck, and so all was quiet but for the running water beside them. Bleak turned to the queen.
‘You really trust me that much,’ she asked, ‘that you don’t need your guards?’
The queen laughed. ‘I have a guard, child.’ She flicked her hand casually at the creek beside them, and Bleak frowned.
‘Look closer.’
Bleak squinted at the water, ignoring her own grubby reflection. Above her, the sunlight streamed through the canopy. And then she saw her. Perched on a branch, amidst the leaves directly above them, was Henri.
‘She would be on you before you could blink,’ the queen said, not unkindly, ‘but for what it’s worth, I do trust you. There’s something about you.’
‘Is it because you think I’m … a mist dweller?’
The queen shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, and offered no more than that. Bleak was yet to have a chance to question the queen on that term. Every time she heard or said it to herself, a shiver of unease flooded through her. She tried to push it from her mind – now was not the time. As they continued to follow the stream through the forest, Bleak watched Henri’s reflection in the water. Besides their hair, the way they moved was the first real similarity she’d seen between the two queens. Mother and daughter moved with a fluidity Bleak had never seen before. Perhaps all the kindred moved like that if they’d been training from such a young age.
‘We need you to get a handle on your magic well before you go to the capital,’ Allehra was saying.
‘Just what do you think I’m going to be able to do to help Henri? She doesn’t need me,’ said Bleak, glancing back up at the canopy.
‘No, but she will be summoned because of you. Do not disrespect the risk she took for you.’
Bleak nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’ The words felt strange in her mouth. It had been a long time since she had uttered them to someone.
‘Don’t be sorry, just try harder. You can do this.’
They came to a small pool at the end of the stream. The water was so clear it looked like glass, and the flowers around it seemed even more vibrant than the rest of the forest. The queen sat down beside it, her flowing skirts billowing out beneath her.
‘I knew someone who used to like coming here, to think,’ she said.
Bleak sat down beside her. ‘Who?’
The queen shook her head, and lifted the pouch from around her neck over her head. She placed it carefully on the emerald-green grass, and then ran her fingers through the water.
‘Use your magic,’ she said. ‘The answers you want so desperately are all up here.’ She tapped her temple with her wet fingers. ‘Take your time.’
The buzzing voices started immediately; Bleak could only identify single words out of context. It was like a swarm of Allehra’s thoughts circling her, disorientating her, making her head pound. She took a deep breath. If Bleak could get a handle on this, she could only imagine what she might discover. The most powerful ruler of Valia was opening her mind up to Bleak, willingly, with no distractions. She closed her eyes and focused. She realised that all the voices were Allehra’s at different ages, from different points in her life, experiencing different moods, different emotions. Usually, Bleak could hone in on a core thought in the present, but not with Allehra. Bleak opened her eyes; Allehra was sitting incredibly still, staring into the pool before them. Wisps of silver-and-midnight hair danced in the breeze, but she made no move to brush them from her eyes. Bleak repositioned herself, crossing her legs underneath her and turning to face the queen front-on. She refocused. Her instincts were telling her to dig, no – sift. She needed to sift through the Mother Matriarch’s thoughts; she needed to acknowledge each thought and go from there. She repeated this process. Each time, it was as though there was one less voice in the crammed space that was Allehra’s mind. One by one, she sifted through what felt like decades’ worth of thoughts, quieting the younger selves, brushing away the everyday observations until there was but one word shimmering before Bleak’s eyes.
‘Sahara,’ she breathed.
The queen smiled sadly and turned to face her.
‘That’s enough,’ Henri’s sharp voice said as she landed softly on the ground beside them.
‘Henr—’
‘No. You’ve already said too much.’
Bleak hid her surprise as Queen Allehra bowed her head.
‘Today’s lessons are over,’ Henri said, without looking at Bleak. Bleak waited for Allehra to object. She didn’t. She looked from mother to daughter, neither saying a word. Bleak didn’t need telling twice. She got to her feet and began to follow the creek back up towards the keep. Henri rounded on Queen Allehra well before Bleak was out of earshot.
‘You think she’ll have answers for you?’ Henri yelled. ‘Sahara is dead. And she died long before she walked out into that mist.’
Bleak quickened her pace. The last thing she needed was Henri catching her eavesdropping and throwing her out of Valia before her training had barely begun. Plus, she had a date with a flask or two of Valian wine. Mind whispering was thirsty work.
Later that night, Bleak sat with Luka by the fire as a wild boar roasted on the spit, and thought about her lessons with Allehra. Sahara. Who was she? Why did she have such a hold on both Valian matriarchs? Henri hadn’t looked in Bleak’s direction since. And Allehra. Allehra had locked herself in her tower. If Bleak continued to train with Allehra, she may get the full story yet. There were many secrets here, and Bleak was a naturally curious person, among other things. She was so busy analysing the events of the afternoon that she started when someone pressed a goblet into her hands. Wine. She could smell its fruity, smoky aroma, the same as the night before. She cupped the goblet like she would a new lover’s face, greedy with anticipation. She tried to look casual as she raised it to her lips. She stifled a moan of pleasure, of relief. Tension drained from her whole body. She savoured the first mouthful, swirling it around with her tongue, but as soon as she had done that, she drained the goblet. She needed more.
‘Thirsty?’ Luka said, smiling.
Bleak shrugged. ‘It’s been a long couple of days.’
‘I’ll drink to that.’ Luka raised her glass and threw Bleak the wineskin.
Somewhere around her fourth goblet, the wild boar was carved and dished out generously. Bleak ate with her hands, having tasted nothing so good in years. Wine and wild boar went well together. It felt like it had been a long time since Bleak had had a belly full of food. She sloshed more wine into her goblet, filling it to the brim, slurping and then filling it once more. Gods, it was good. She was beginning to feel like herself again. So what if she was in the Valia Forest and the queens of Valia were at each other’s throats because of her? No one here hated magic. She twirled the dagger she’d stolen from Captain Fiore between her fingers as she mulled over things. The last week of her life had felt so out of control. Horseback riding, attacks, training. She missed the sway of the sea, the waves spilling across the decks, the pull of the wheel beneath her hands. But she felt different here, like she finally had something to give, if only she could figure it out.
There was a shout, and a man’s voice
swore. Athene and Tilly emerged from the trees; Athene was holding a knife to a man’s exposed throat, while Tilly steadied a white horse by its bridle.
‘What is this?’ Henri demanded from the other side of the fire.
‘We found him wandering through the Sticks. Says he’s trying to find you,’ Tilly said, nodding to Bleak. Bleak focused on the person panting between the two women. Sun-streaked hair was swept back into a short ponytail; a white shirt gaped half-open at the front, revealing a broad, tanned chest covered in fair hair. The man edged his throat away from the knife, and grunted as Athene dug her knee into his back, forcing him to the ground. Bleak stood slowly, her world spinning, dropping Fiore’s dagger to the forest floor. She took two steps forward.
‘Bren …?’
Chapter 13
Henri watched Athene bury her fist in the man’s stomach in a sharp, upper-cut blow. He doubled over, wheezing. She gave Athene a nod, and her first-in-command hit him again, this time in the soft part just between his lower ribs. Across the fire, Bleak swayed as she spoke the man’s name.
‘Bren …’ She rushed forward to him. ‘Don’t hurt him!’ she begged, gripping Athene’s arm.
Athene looked to Henri.
‘Take him to the pits,’ Henri said, turning back to her plate. She’d had enough drama for one day. Whoever this man was, he could wait.
‘No!’ Bleak said, holding onto the man’s arm.
‘They’re just underground holding cells,’ Athene said, trying to peel Bleak’s hands away.
Henri shot her a sharp look. She’d had enough of Athene’s sympathies. Athene didn’t meet her eye.
‘Take her with him,’ Henri said, thrusting her chin in Bleak’s direction.
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
Athene hesitated, and for a moment Henri longed for the challenge. If she had to put Athene in her place, she would. It seemed like it’d been too long since her little sparring match with Commander Swinton and she could feel the restlessness building up in her muscles, along with the need to be slicing her katars. But Athene nodded to Marvel and Petra, and they took Bleak by the arms, albeit gently, and followed Tilly and Athene away from the fire, towards the pits.
‘What are you doing?’ Bleak yelled. ‘We haven’t done anything wrong! I’m supposed to be a guest here —’
Henri rolled her eyes, cursing the moment she’d decided to save the orphan girl. Nothing but trouble. And now she had to deal with another Angovian as well? How did he find them? It had been years since an outsider had breached their keep. Henri shook her head and called for ale. One of the younger kindred rushed to her side with an overflowing mug of amber liquid.
While Henri’s elite kindred attended the Angovian youngsters, Henri watched the rest of her people. Athene’s daughter, Luka, was surrounded by other trainees, waving her hands wildly as she told a tale. The others listened, utterly rapt in the story, loud bursts of laughter exploding from them. Henri envied them and their friendships. She’d never been able to have that; she had always needed to keep her distance, to draw the line somewhere. She was Matriarch of Valia first, friend second, which meant there was a limit to how deep her friendships could run. Luka caught her eye and smiled cautiously. Henri wanted to return it, but as always, something stopped her. She got to her feet and left them. She needed to be alone.
Henri took to the canopies again, slipping away from the crowd, and crossed the bridges to the outskirts of the forest, past the Sticks. Years ago, she’d had a training circuit built for only her and her finest elite kindred. Formal intensive Valian training was officially complete after the age of twenty, because most kindred had duties that kept them fit anyway, but Henri continued to train. She hated the idea of not being at her best, and relished putting her body to bed tired and aching.
Straw boxing dummies, weights and bars welcomed her as she stepped out onto the platform among the treetops. She unsheathed her katars and unstrapped her daggers and trinity stars, placing them on the bench beside the dummy. First, she did some breathing exercises. She inhaled deeply through her nose, feeling her lungs expand, and then exhaled through her mouth. She did this several times, attempting to calm the questions and objections that had hounded her mind during the day. Even though she was training alone, it was never wise to go into a fight with a heavy mind. She stretched, revelling in the pull of her muscles, in her own limberness. Then she turned to the dummy and unleashed hell upon it. Each blow had the precision of a knife, slicing through the air and finding its mark – clean and direct. She always made sure she was just as strong from her left as she was from her right, which meant putting her left side through several more sets. She worked her legs, striking the dummy in the head time and time again. She didn’t sweat – this wasn’t an effort for her.
Mist dweller. Henri had only heard the term once or twice before. After Bleak had left her and Allehra earlier that day, Henri had demanded that Allehra explain it to her. As always, her mother had been infuriatingly cryptic, and Henri had walked away still not fully understanding the term. She recalled the stories of the invasion that had happened forty years ago – when mist dwellers had set foot in the capital somehow. There had been a supposed battle between them and the King’s Army. It was the battle that had seen Caleb Swinton knighted for saving the king. The legend of Sir Caleb’s knighthood claimed that the mist dwellers were vicious creatures, not people, covered in strange, dark markings. Surely not? Henri pictured the malnourished Angovian girl she’d just sent to the pits. What was the danger in her? She could hardly walk straight, let alone threaten anyone.
Henri had no doubt that these ‘mist dwellers’ existed, whatever they were. But how did they survive it? The mist was deadly, so what made these … people immune to whatever toxins settled upon the skin? Though Allehra had stated the term calmly (not that Allehra was prone to panic), she had not explained herself. Surely the reigning Queen of Valia was owed an explanation when a mythical force was suddenly in her keep?
Henri put her legs through several more sets of drills and pondered on the revelation further. Fine. Allehra could keep her secrets, as was her habit, so long as it didn’t come back to bite them later. She bristled. So much for clearing her thoughts. The dummy was in shreds, its straw stuffing poking out at all angles and its base nearly unhinged from the spring.
Henri moved onto the weights, curling them up towards her body and then down again. As she worked her arms, she focused on her katars on the bench. The one thing she hadn’t yet mastered was using her abilities without her hands. She knew it was possible, as Allehra and the matriarchs before her had been able to do so, but so far, she’d failed. She kept her hands busy, but focused on the weapons. All she wanted to do was lift one into the air and place it back down on the bench. Not a large task at all.
Nothing happened.
Henri heard the bridge groan behind her. Dropping her weights, she flung her hand towards the katar and sent it flying. There was a soft thud as it embedded itself into the tree, next to Athene’s head. Athene didn’t even flinch.
‘One day, that’ll find its way into someone you care about,’ she said.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said.
Athene shrugged, setting herself under a set of weights. ‘Same as you.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Henri.
But Athene was already on her back, lifting the heavy weights. And so for a time, Henri pretended that she wasn’t there. Henri came here to enjoy her own company, to absorb the rare silence. She focused on the other katar, willing it to lift into the air, just a fraction. Nothing. It didn’t budge. Was she missing something? Had Allehra left out some key instruction? Henri felt Athene’s eyes on her.
‘Yes?’ she said.
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘You know I hate that. You’ll say it eventually. Don’t run me ragged trying to get it out of you.’
Athene sighed. ‘Why don’t you like her?’
‘
Her?’
‘Bleak.’
‘I don’t not like her.’
‘You just sent her to the pits.’
‘She was interfering with a prisoner.’
‘He was obviously a friend of hers. Can you blame her?’
‘I can blame you. Why are you questioning every command of mine?’
‘Command?’
‘Yes, Athene, command. You are the leader of my kindred, but you answer to me.’
Athene’s shoulders dropped and she shook her head.
‘What?’ Henri said, perhaps a little too sharply.
‘It’s just …’
Henri waited, despite her patience being at breaking point. They’d shirked this issue for far too long. Perhaps it was time everything bubbled to the surface. Athene got up from the weights bench and moved towards her, hands outstretched.
‘Don’t,’ Henri said, taking a step back.
Athene took another step forward, and brushed a hand down the side of Henri’s face.
‘Henri,’ she said, her voice softer.
‘No.’
Athene took another step forward, resting her forehead against Henri’s.
‘You ask too much, Athene.’
‘Henri, please, this is me. You … You can trust me. You can let me in.’
Henri’s stomach swooped. She could feel Athene’s breath on her face, her mouth just inches away.
‘I told you,’ Henri said, stepping back, ‘I can’t do this.’
‘This? You’ve already done this! What do you think will change?’
Henri glared at her. ‘Everything,’ she said. ‘It’s already changed.’
Bleak had made her see it. It was Bleak’s arrival that had shown Athene’s true colours. She would stand by Henri through anything, unless that something was part of her maternal instincts. She was loyal to Henri, but what had happened between them had shifted their dynamic, their roles and power. Henri couldn’t have that. There was no room for questions, not in her kindred.
‘I’m sorry.’ Athene clasped Henri’s hands in her own. ‘I’m sorry, alright? It won’t happen again.’
Heart of Mist Page 13