I sense that victory is near, can feel that she’s becoming desperate, and a fire lights inside me. I pull my arm back to put as much power as I can into my swing to disarm her.
And she plunges her blunt blade into my chest, defeating me as decisively as if she’d truly struck me.
I stop fighting at once, and lower my sword, allowing exhaustion to take over. Panting, I lower myself to the ground, a luxury of the way my armour fits. Poor Hope has to remain standing, leaning against the metal pole as she labours for breath too. She glances over at me and grins.
“Better?”
“You know I hate when you call me ‘Sin Eater’ and ‘princess’.”
“And you know I hate it when it’s not a challenge,” she says, smiling again. “You fought really well. But you need to learn to fight like that without being provoked into it.”
“Aurek is the chattering type,” I take a deep breath, in and out. “He’ll definitely want to taunt me.”
“Assuming you survive long enough to fight him.”
Her words are cold water over me, reminding me that what we’re doing is serious, and deadly. I feel my face fall, and I push up off the ground.
“Twylla,” she says as I turn to go back inside. “You really did fight well. You’ve come a long, long way.”
We smile at each other again, and I start to unbuckle the straps on my arms. A wash, I think, is in order. Then breakfast. Then plotting.
I’ve barely taken a step when Stuan comes flying into the courtyard, eyes wild.
“Come on,” he chokes, pressing his hand into his side. “Come on.”
Fear floods me and I do the buckle back up with trembling fingers, picking up my sword and following him. Hope is beside me, as grim-faced as I am.
We run down the corridor, and I try to control my heart; whatever it is, we will deal with it.
The front doors to the convent are wide open, against my explicit instructions, and I charge through them, eyes scanning the area. They light at once on a group of people approaching; mine, I recognize, and another man and woman. The man is limping, the woman helping him walk. More refugees.
No.
She looks up and stops dead, this woman, and I see her mouth open wide.
And then we’re running towards each other; she’s abandoned her companion so fast that he almost falls.
The distance between us closes rapidly, and then my arms are around her and I stagger back as she throws herself against me.
“Oh, Errin. Thank the Gods, thank the Gods,” I breathe into her hair.
Her stinking, revolting hair.
I thrust her away from me and look at her, something filthy wrapped around her wrists, smeared with unidentified muck. “Did you camp in a pigsty?”
She grins. “We may have hidden in one.”
At that I look over at the man she’s with, and it’s as though my skin is far too small for my body.
“I burned down the castle.” His head is shaved, his face pale. His bones are too prominent, and his eyes look as though they belong in the face of a much older man. But his voice . . . that’s still the same. And how he never smiles all the way. “So I hope you weren’t planning to move back in.”
“I thought you were dead,” I say.
“Try not to be too disappointed,” Merek says, and then – then – he smiles, and it’s as though the sun has come out.
A sob escapes my throat and I step towards him.
Merek, rightful king of Lormere and the man I almost married, faints.
Chapter 17
Errin can’t stop smiling as she tends to Merek. As soon as he came around, she had him peeling off his shirt and rolling his trouser leg up so could inspect, clean and dress his wounds. She keeps pausing in between every action to smile; she cleans around the puncture wounds carefully with strips of gauze and rose-scented water, then grins widely, wrinkling her nose. She rubs a salve into the bites, then beams over at me. Merek keeps shaking his head in amusement; it lights up his face, taking some of the haunted, hollow look from his expression.
I can’t believe he is alive. I can’t take my eyes off him.
My fingers itch with the urge to push Errin away and tend to him myself. Never mind that I wouldn’t know what to do. I want to touch him, to feel his skin under my fingertips. Then I might be able to believe this. Instead I fuss with the gauze, tearing much more of it than Errin could possibly need, just watching. Merek. Alive. Here.
Stuan and Ulrin, another former castle guard, carried an unconscious Merek ceremoniously through to the men’s dormitory and gave him a room to himself, which I think is supposed to be a mark of respect for his status. It seems Merek will be afforded every courtesy, including privacy – something none of the rest of us have.
I can hear that beyond the curtained doorway the corridor is crowded with people who just want to be near him, look at him when the curtain flutters aside as Errin moves between the table where her remedies lie, and her patient. The true king of Lormere, alive, and miraculously returned to them. After moons of living under Aurek’s nose, spying on him and aiding Errin, he burned down his own home and fled in the night to join the rebellion. There will be songs composed about Merek Belmis – Gods, I might even write one myself.
I lean against the wall, still in my leathers, watching Merek as he and Errin chatter back and forth about the treatments she’s chosen.
“Why not the lavender and ginger?” he asks.
“Because cloves also have pain-relieving properties. And garlic is more powerful.”
“It’s also smelly.”
“We slept in a pigsty two nights ago. You can’t get any smellier; it’s impossible.”
“You can’t talk to me like that any more, I’m important here.”
“Don’t make me decide this wound needs a salt bath.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She gives him a look that is pure Lief: eyebrow raised, smirk, and he rolls his eyes as my heart aches.
The way they talk, the ease of it, it makes me happy, sad, and more than a little jealous, all at the same time. I’ve never been that easy with anyone, not even Lief. Even now, trading insults and blows with Hope, it doesn’t have the same balance to it; we’re more mentor and mentee than equals. I want this. I want to be like this. As if he can sense my thoughts, Merek turns to me.
“Can’t you do something about her impudence?”
For a moment I can’t speak, as if I’m not all the way there. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say finally, and instantly feel stupid. Why couldn’t I think of something witty? But Errin grins at me again, and begins to bind Merek’s leg with fresh bandages.
“There.” She ties a knot in the top of the bandage. “All done.” The moment she’s spoken her face falls, as if she’s given herself permission to be tired. She sways gently, fatigue heavy on her face.
“What about you?” Merek speaks sharply, noticing her sudden weariness, and leans forward to take her hands, inspecting them. The familiarity of it makes my stomach jolt.
“I’m fine. Just tired. I fell over,” Errin explains to me. “We both got pretty bashed up,” she pulls her hands away from Merek. “But I really would like a bath. As I said, pigsty.” Her stomach rumbles tellingly. “I could eat, too,” she adds.
I need to find out everything that happened in Lormere. I need to know what they know of Aurek’s movements and plans. The urge to do actually something, after moons of planning and training, itches inside me, fire in my veins.
I need them to tell me everything. Everything about every moment since I last saw them both.
But I can wait one more night.
I paste a smile on my lips, one that becomes real when she smiles back at me. “Turn left, go through the courtyard, and the women’s quarters are in front of you. The bathhouse is at the far end.”
“Will there be. . . Can I get hot water from somewhere? I’ve been dreaming about a bath.” Her smile is rueful.
I grin.
“Go to the bathhouse, and you’ll see.”
She gives me a confused look, then shrugs. “I’ll find you after.”
“I might actually join you there; I’m a little sweaty from fighting.”
“Excellent. I’ll ask for enough water for two.”
She pats Merek on the foot as she leaves, the corridor instantly coming alive as she exits. I see half a dozen eager faces before the curtain falls back into place, and hear as many offers to “escort the lady wherever she’d like to go”.
I turn to Merek to smile, to find him watching me, brown eyes sweeping over me. He colours when I meet his gaze, and I find myself blushing too, without knowing why. Cursed auburn hair. Cursed treacherous complexion.
“Fighting?” he says, tactfully ignoring both of our red faces.
“I’m learning the sword. I was practising when you arrived.”
“That explains it.” He nods to the armour. “It’s good work.”
“I have good people. And I’m doing well. Although I don’t think I’m ever going to become a master swordswoman,” I add, the words stilted, hollow-sounding to my ears. I feel awkward now Errin isn’t here to balance us, despite the need to talk to him. Not that I was the life of the party when she was here.
“It wouldn’t actually surprise me if you did.” He looks me up and down again, his eyes lingering on every part of me, drinking in the breeches, the leather plates, the tunic beneath them. “You look good.”
I return his scrutiny, the bruises patterned across his chest, his ribs countable beneath them. “I wish I could say the same about you.”
“It’s been an interesting few moons.”
There’s an invitation there, to ask about what he’s seen, what he’s done. And I want to know. I pause, torn between staying with him and going to find Errin. But a timely cough from beyond the curtain reminds me half of the commune is out there, straining for every word. As if aware of it, he shrugs. “Perhaps now isn’t the time, though.”
“No. I’m sure Errin would advocate rest. Unless you’d like to look around? I could ask Kirin to show you where everything is.”
For a moment I think he looks disappointed. “No. Rest, I think. I have one question, though. Are you the Rising Dawn? Is that you?”
I nod, and his lips quirk in that familiar way.
“So, everyone here is part of it?”
“Every last one of us. You can meet them all as soon as you’re ready. Ema, our cook, has been looking for a reason to roast a goose for weeks, so I’ll tell her to have at it. We’ll throw a feast to celebrate.”
He raises his brows. “No need on my account. After the last few moons, bread I don’t have to pick the mould off of would be a feast.”
“I’ll make sure someone stays close in case you need anything,” I say, making my way to the doorway. I throw the curtain back, staring at the crowd, all of whom become incredibly and immediately interested in the walls.
“Don’t you lot have anything better to do?” I ask, shaking my head as they mumble excuses. “Go on. Away with you. You, Hobb, I know have at least a dozen swords that need sharpening.” The blond guard hangs his head and disappears immediately, followed by others who clearly don’t wish to be named and shamed in front of their king. But others loiter still, so I put my hands on my hips and address them. “That applies to you all. Breena, I heard you complaining this morning that you had arrows to fletch. As for you, Ulrin—”
“I just want to say hello to His Majesty. I was on his progress with him,” the giant, bear-like man says in a voice pitched like thunder. “Hello, Your Majesty,” he calls.
“Hello, Ulrin. I’m looking forward to catching up with you later,” Merek replies.
I let the curtain fall into place. “Now, His Majesty needs to rest. Please. Back to work.”
They nod their agreement and finally disperse, Ulrin’s massive form dwarfing Breena’s reedy one. The mutter of excited voices carries down the hall, though. Their sovereign has returned from the dead – as handsome and courageous as ever.
I stalk away from them, saving my sigh until I’m far enough away. I have no explanation for it, but I feel unsettled, and uneasy. I need a bath.
I stop by the kitchens, incurring Ema’s wrath when I help myself to a couple of apples and some cubes of cheese. When I reach the changing room for the women’s bathhouse I shed my clothes and my armour, hanging the panels carefully, less mindful of my everyday wear. I unpick my braid and let my hair fall loose, covering me as I walk into the bathhouse.
I scan the room, looking for a brown head peeping over the top of one of the baths. There are six baths down here, carved from red-veined marble, arranged like the points of a star. Each one is twice my height in length, and not much less in width and depth. And each one is filled with naturally hot water that bubbles up from the hot springs beneath the ground. The room is full of steam, and the smell of sulphur, which I’m long since used to. I peer through it, unable to see my friend.
“Errin?” I call.
“I’m not leaving here.” Errin voice echoes faintly off the low ceiling. There is a splash, and then I see her head emerge. She must have been lying down in the water. “Hot water. All the time. I cannot believe Silas grew up with this. I cannot believe he didn’t tell me.” She falls quiet.
I make my way over to the bath on her left and place the food on the rim. “Is he all right?” I ask as I step into the water, a delicious shiver racing up my spine.
For a long time she doesn’t reply. Then: “Yes. No.” I hear the sound of a slap against the water, and when I look over she’s hidden from me again. “Even if he’s all right now, he won’t be for long.” Her voice sounds far away. “Twylla, we have to get him out.”
“We will. I promise. I promise,” I repeat, then I too slide down and allow my hair to fan out around me.
Again she is silent for a while. “This is nice, though, this bathing. Relaxing. It’s hard to be terrified like this.”
“I know.” I speak to the ceiling. “Growing up we had a tin bath that we’d fill with well water, in front of the fire. Once a moon. At the castle it wasn’t much better, being at the top of the tower. You know, the queen used to wax lyrical about the water in the mere, and I hate to admit it, but she had a point. It’s heavenly.”
I roll on to my front and lean on the side of the bath, water dripping to the floor. Across from me, Errin does the same.
“Hello,” I say, smiling. “Apple?”
“Please.” I toss one to her and she catches it neatly, so I follow it with some of the cheese. There is a loud crunch as she bites into the fruit and then moans. “I missed you,” she says through her mouthful.
“Are you talking to me or the apple?”
“The apple.” She pops a cube of cheese in her mouth. “And also the cheese.”
“I missed you too.” I smile. “Are you all right?”
She doesn’t reply immediately, polishing off her food. I toss her the second one. “Yes. And no. There’s so much . . . so much I need to tell you. I . . . I don’t know where to begin.”
“It’s the same for me. I wish. . . Gods, Errin, I wish you’d been with me,” I say in a rush.
She smiles. “You have your army.”
“I do.”
“How do you have an army? And the Rising Dawn – that’s you? Wait. Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”
So I tell her.
I tell her of the flight from the Conclave, and meeting Kirin, which makes her beam at me across the bathhouse. “His fiancée is alive!” she cries. “She’s in Tressalyn. Oh, he’ll be so happy.”
But then I have to tell her about Lief, and the Sisters.
“You did that?” She stares at me, steam rising from her hair, her eyes wide; green, shaped like his. “But he said the Sisters did it. Two of them. He never said. He never even said he’d seen you.”
“Perhaps he was ashamed after being bested by me.”
“Perhaps. . .” She
doesn’t sound convinced. “I can’t figure him out, Twylla.”
“What’s to figure out?” I say, harsher than I mean to.
“I don’t. . . He’s done some horrific things, but at the same time he’s—”
“He’s chosen his side.” I cut her off.
She hesitates as though she’d say more, but instead shrugs. “What happened next?”
I tell her of our journey, and what happened in the woods – all of it, my grand announcement to the camp and how unimpressed everyone was, the chamber pots. Finally realizing what to do and how to win them over. The way the sun rose that morning, the rays reaching out to me like the hands of old friends.
And how we came here, to the House of the Sisters, in the East Mountains of Lormere. How we gathered up more people as we travelled, afraid and angry. How we – Hope, Kirin, Nia and I – founded the Rising Dawn as a way of sending a message to the captive Lormerians, and to distract Aurek from searching for me.
“So they’re in every town?”
“Every one. We have a network over the whole of Lormere, and we have chains of spies stationed and hiding across the country. We pass messages along that chain. A fair few of our contacts are his own guards.”
She crows. “He was afraid of that. How did you manage it?”
I beam. “Pure dumb luck. On our first attack, I was caught by a guard. He should have turned me over – but he told me to run. I should have known that loyalty born out of fear might not be loyalty at all. So once we were established here, I had one of my men, Gareld, seek out that same guard. He came over to us there and then, and told us which of the others felt the same. And then they told us of others they knew, and so on. They almost all have children, children he’s taken.”
Errin sighs. I tell her that we know every camp he’s holding them in, from the children of Chargate in the West Woods, to the children of Lortune, who are being kept not three miles from where we are now in a cave system in the mountains. And I tell her we’ve managed to find spies and followers in the villages that Aurek thinks he has under control. She’s impressed.
[Sin Eater's Daughter 3] The Scarecrow Queen Page 19