by Aaron Pogue
"But—"
"I do not want a war," she said. "Now go. I must speak with my son."
Caleb wanted to argue with her further. I could see it on his face. But after a heavy handful of heartbeats, he turned smartly on his heel and left through the door. I saw my knights once again at their station outside the door. I sighed.
Mother caught it. She frowned down at me. "Taryn—"
"I'm sorry, Mother," I said, meek enough to cut her off in absolute astonishment. "I acted like a child, I made a fool of myself, and I embarrassed you before the king. I harmed your reputation out of selfish pride. I'm sorry."
She didn't answer. After a while my curiosity won out, and I raised my eyes to hers. There were no easy emotions to read. I'd hoped to find sympathy, forgiveness. I'd feared to find anger, disappointment. She only looked tired.
I hated to see her like that, and this time it was my doing. The shame was sharp-edged and swift. Somehow, I would have to set it right.
"I'm sorry," I said again.
She shook her head. "You are, and for all the wrong reasons. I care nothing about the esteem of King Timmon."
"But you were just defending him. You said Father was dedicated to him."
"Daven fought for the kingdom, Taryn. Not for this king. No, your father fought for the kingdom despite this king. I tried to warn you earlier. I suppose I should have spoken more clearly. You did act as a child, but perhaps it is only because I've treated you too much like one."
I hung my head at that. She pulled me into a hug and held me against her for a moment in silence. "The king does not like us," she said. "Your...performance today played only a very small part in that. He has never liked us."
"But Father did so much—"
She nodded against the side of my head. "He did. And everything Daven achieved made him seem more a threat to King Timmon. Every success, every sacrifice, every dragon slain increased your father's popularity and frightened the king further."
I thought about it for a moment, and my breath caught. I had to swallow before I could speak. "You said...he called it insurrection."
She nodded.
I shook my head. "No. He really thinks that was Father's plan? Oh, Haven's name, he called me the heir!"
She nodded again. "You called yourself the Dragonprince."
"I just...I wanted to impress him."
"And in so doing, you confirmed every jealous fear he has ever felt about this place. About your Father. About us."
"I can...apologize," I said, but it sounded weak in my own ears.
"No," she said. "No, these are things he has believed in defiance of proof and reason for fifteen years. You will not sway him with an apology."
"But.... Is there going to be a...a war? What will he do to us?"
"He will grace us with his presence for the span of three days," she said. "It is somewhat customary. We will treat him to every courtesy and provide him a tour of our lands and an accounting of our current developments."
"That doesn't sound so terrible."
My door opened, and Caleb joined us again. The emotion he'd shown earlier was gone now. He was himself again, still and dark and distant as a thundercloud and just as deadly. Mother glanced at him, but when he kept his silence she returned her attention to me.
"It will be very polite," she said. "You may even enjoy some of it. There will be feasts in the great hall, and there will be songs and stories."
I shook my head. "No. I'd just be a reminder."
She gave me a frail smile. "He has requested your attendance, and there is little left to gain from hiding you away."
I hung my head. "I've made myself into a fool. Anything I do or say will only make things worse. Let me hide."
"The king has made his request," she said. "It would be unwise to refuse it."
Caleb grunted. "It might well rouse his suspicion and make things worse."
I hung my head, defeated.
Mother held her hands out to me until I gave her mine. "Do try to enjoy it. I'm sorry tonight went so badly for you, but you will have three days to enjoy the feasting."
Behind her, Caleb raised his eyebrows. "He's only staying three?"
There was hope in his voice at that. But Mother's expression only turned more grim. "Yes. We get three days."
The hope died in Caleb's eyes. "And then?"
"Then the king will return to the City. And...he has invited us to join him. To spend a season at Court."
I caught my mother's arm and asked, "Well? Are we going?"
Caleb growled, "Of course you're not going."
"We are going," Mother said. "All of us."
I felt a flash of excitement at that. I had grown up in a fortress crafted of pure sorcery, surrounded by an army dedicated to my family's legacy. It was a special destiny. Yet I had never been outside the walls. I had never seen a true city. I had heard stories of the capitol, though—of the soaring Halls of Justice and the gold-wrought palace gates looming tall over the courtyard where the FirstKing had accepted fealty from the last of the cruel kings of men after he burned storied Chantire to the ground.
I would visit the City. I would go with Mother, to be presented at Court. For a season, at least, we could get away from the heavy burden of this fortress and its people.
But, as always, Caleb sought to thwart me. He stomped toward my mother. "You're not going. I can find you a way out."
I jumped to my feet and squeezed in front of Mother to face him down. "We are! You do not make the decisions around here!"
He didn't even glance at me. He stared right over the top of my head, eyes still locked on Mother's.
She said, "He's right, Caleb."
"No. It is on my honor to protect you—"
"And you can," I said, pleading. "That's why she asked you to come with us."
"Isabelle," he said, "I swear to you, I can find a way to get you out." His eyes flicked down to me, and his nose wrinkled. "Both of you. Safe."
"I believe you," Mother said. "I do. But you could not protect the people in the courtyard. If we run—"
"Then stay," Caleb growled. "Stay here. The king has only moved a fraction of his army inside our walls. Give the word, and I'll vouch that not another man will pass, magic gate or none. Do not underestimate the courage of your people, Isabelle. We have fought the king to an impasse before."
"You?" I asked. "No. That was my father's doing."
Caleb growled over the top of my head. "Would you shut him up?"
Mother sighed. "He's not wrong. How strong are you really without Daven's help?"
Caleb staggered back a step. She might as well have slapped him. Anger and hurt and helplessness seared across his expression before his eyes turned cold and hard again. "We can do something."
"We can," she said. "We can go with the king."
"No," he said. "What about your white—"
"Caleb, hush." Her voice was soft as a summer breeze and solid as a mountain. "We will go with the king. Anything else would compromise my husband's legacy."
Fury flared like an inferno in Caleb's eyes. His jaw clenched until ropey muscles stood out on both sides. I saw his fists were clenched just as hard. I drew myself taller, trying to shield my mother.
But Caleb did not strike. I watched the heat in his eyes dissipate and the strength go out of him.
He raised a hand to plead instead, but I shook my head. "Why would you stop us, Caleb? This is a good opportunity for my family, whom you serve."
A new anger flared in his eyes, but it too passed. "This is not an opportunity. This is a judgment."
"A judgment?" I laughed. "He's taking us from the end of the world back to the heart of civilization. He's taking us to the court. It's an honor!"
"No," Mother said behind me. "Caleb's right. Think it through."
Caleb shook his head. "He can't grasp it. He's too excited at the thought of seeing a playhouse or buying a round in a tavern. The boy's heard too many stories."
"The d
ragonswarm is over!" I said. "Mother has spoken much of the kingdom, but as much as anything Father's goal was to save civilization. To save those kinds of luxuries and entertainment. Isn't it so?" I held his gaze, breathing a little heavy and waiting for him to object.
He stuck out his chin, but he didn't deny my claim.
I felt a smile touch my lips, but my words still tasted bitter. "And here, at the heart of his great plan, we've been free of dragons for ten years. Yet we still live encased in walls of stone. We still march and scout and train. We live like prisoners. Like refugees. Life should be soft and gentle and pleasant. Isn't that the point?"
He sneered at me, but Mother gripped my shoulders with both hands and pulled me back against her. She kissed the back of my head. "Oh, Taryn," she said. "It isn't over. The fight isn't won. There are graver threats than the dragons."
Caleb chuckled and shook his head. "He shares his father's blindness."
"Stop it!" I shouted. "Stop talking over my head. If I'm so ignorant then tell me. What is it I can't see?"
Caleb exchanged a glance with Mother. She released my shoulders and moved around to stand beside Caleb. "There are nine cities," she said. "Nine that we know of. Cara. Whitefalls and Tirah. Most of Pollix. Three port towns on the northern coast. Dorion in the Northlands. And the capitol."
She stopped, as though that were some kind of explanation. I knit my brow, trying to grasp it. After a moment I gave up. "What of them?"
"That's all," she said. "Across more than a thousand leagues, the great sprawling empire the FirstKing built, all that remains of the old kingdom is nine cities. That is all the government in the world. All that's left of civilization, as far as we know."
"But not all that's left of humanity," Caleb said, his voice ominous. "Mankind has persisted by doing what it does best."
I didn't want to ask it, but I had to know. I swallowed hard. "What do they do best?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Survive." He said no more, but his eyes spoke of endless horrors. For a moment I imagined the atrocities man might be capable of, living under the constant terror of the dragonswarm. Robbed of civilization. Surviving. I trembled.
"We are not just waiting here in the fortress," Mother told me. "We have never been. We're working hard to fix a broken world."
Caleb nodded. "We are rebuilding order. That requires dedication and sacrifice."
"Precisely," she said, bending his words back against him. "And that is why we must do what we must do."
"Hm. Then who will carry on Daven's work?" Caleb asked. "Who will protect these people?"
"The king will," she said. "That is his responsibility, after all. He is leaving a garrison here, and a steward to manage things in my stead."
Caleb snorted his disapproval, but he was finished fighting her. "Are you sure you want me along?"
"I would not go one step outside the walls without you at my side," she said, sincerity warming her voice until it glowed. "But I will not order you to come."
"You would not need to," he said. "I must go where you go. How many can I bring with me?"
"The king has approved Taryn's knights," she said.
"Good. And?"
She bit her lip. After a moment Caleb sighed and nodded. "Very well. I shall make preparations."
He turned toward the door, but she stopped him with a light touch on his arm. "Thank you, Caleb."
Caleb only shook his head. He gave her a humorless smile, then pulled gently away. He left us alone. For a while after he left she only stood there, staring at the door. I left her to her thoughts, because I had troublesome realizations of my own clawing at the back of my consciousness.
My excitement at the thought of visiting the capitol had pushed aside the things we'd discussed before, including the dark suspicions of the cruel king. But in that light, I had no wish to leave. For the first time in years, I cherished the quiet security of my home. Too much was changing, far too fast.
When she finally turned her attention to me, she looked wilted. Her fine dress looked too big, too heavy for her shoulders. She raised a hand to wipe away a tear I hadn't seen in her eye. Then she blinked at me with a hollow smile. "His loyal dedication can be quite a burden at times."
I held her gaze. "It is not an invitation." She shook her head. I nodded. "We are not guests of the king." Again she shook her head. Again I nodded. "We are his...prisoners?"
Now she nodded. She wiped away another tear, then straightened her shoulders and came to meet me. She looked proud and tall again. Strong enough for anything. She tipped my chin up. "I imagine he shall find us some astonishingly comfortable cells."
She wanted me to laugh at that. I couldn't. I sighed. "I did this."
"No," she said. "The king did this. Or if we blame anyone else, we must blame us all. You. Me. Caleb. Your father. This moment is the price we pay for fifteen years of doing the right thing."
"Will he...what will he do with us?"
She sniffed lightly, shook her hair back, and smiled. "He will give us rooms in the palace and Green Eagles to watch over us. He will give us a pension to keep us in luxury. He will invite us to feasts and send us to plays and probably eventually take you along on foxhunts and marry you off to some courtier's pretty little daughter."
She straightened my collar, and smiled more genuinely.
I eyed her askance. "Comfortable cells indeed. Why would he—"
"To keep us close," she said. "He doesn't need to kill us, Taryn. He doesn't need to lock us up. He needs to keep us away from our people and to show the world that we are his."
"Oh." I chewed on my thumbnail for a moment, thinking. It did not sound such a terrible fate. But something in Caleb's sharp defiance, in Mother's sad resignation, told me there was worse to this.
And then I understood. "Prisoners," I said. "The lady and the heir. That works if we are the threat. But if Father's still alive, if he ever turns up—"
"Then we become hostages," she said. "Against your father, until the king is satisfied."
I swallowed and met her eyes. "Satisfied?"
She stared at her fingers for a moment, then said, "We have a long journey ahead of us. Make your preparations."
"We could still ask Caleb to find us a way out of this."
She came two paces back to me and kissed me warmly on the forehead. "All will be well, Taryn. Just...be ready. You have three days."
And then she was gone.
4. Travel Plans
I did not enjoy my last three days at the Tower of Drakes. Every meal was a feast in the great hall. Every day featured parades or spectacles. Every evening there were stories and songs. But they could not touch me.
Everywhere I went for three days, the king was there. I did make a formal apology, and he accepted it with a smile and a laugh, but nothing changed. For three days I watched him watch my mother. I watched him survey the great fortress my father had built like some run-down country estate he intended to acquire. I watched him appoint the stewards who would govern in Mother's absence and the soldiers who would protect my father's people.
I watched him assert his ownership—of my home and of my family. I had set it all in motion. I spent three days feeling the full weight of that fact. And I could do nothing to stop it. On the night of the third day I went early to my bed. I lay in the darkness staring up at the ceiling and listening to the frantic tremor of my heart.
I did not sleep.
Well before dawn on the fourth day, I heard a single knock on my door. I turned in time to see the door thrown open. Caleb came in, Jen and Toman one pace behind him. I squeezed my eyes shut an instant before Caleb spoke the word of command, and my father's fire lit the room.
"Today," Caleb said.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and blinked against the light. Outside my window the sky was still dark.
"Your things?" Caleb asked. He needn't have. My bags lay in the bottom of the open wardrobe. I nodded once, and he nodded once, and Jen fetched the bags for
him. She held them open while Caleb peered inside. He checked all three in a matter of moments, then grunted.
"Come on." He jerked his head toward the door. I stamped my feet into my boots, buckled on my belt, and followed him out into the corridor with my knights trailing behind me.
Caleb headed toward the stairs. I caught at his sleeve and fought against a yawn. "Can I speak with Mother before we go?"
We rounded the corner and headed down the outer stairs before he answered. "You aren't going anywhere with these bags. You wouldn't make it two days on the road. I should have checked on you sooner."
I scowled at his back. "What am I lacking?"
"Common sense. Understanding. Patience. Discipline. Flint and steel."
Behind me, Jen chuckled. I did not look back at her, but Caleb tossed her a quick glare. Then we left the stairs on the fourth floor and wasted most of an hour moving through the stores. Caleb stuffed my packs to bursting, choosing things apparently at random.
While we were doing that, the tower woke up around us. Servants scurried in the corridors. The huge cook fires were stoked in the kitchens below, and soon the smells of bacon and bread rose up to us. As we approached the central staircase I could hear the sounds of breakfast in the great hall below.
But Caleb walked right by the stairs. I tried to catch his sleeve again, but he jerked his arm angrily away before I even reached it. "What?" he growled.
"Are we not going down to breakfast? Mother will be expecting me."
He rounded on me and glared down. "You've never been outside the walls. You don't know what you will need—"
I raised both hands in surrender. "Perhaps, but we couldn't stuff so much as a sewing needle into any of my packs at this point. Unless you want to find me another bag...."
He weighed it for a moment. "No," he said at last. "Even so, I fear you will have to do without breakfast today. The king expects us to be mounted and ready by morning bell, and we have much to do."
"We do? What?"
He scowled. He almost didn't answer. "As your Mother explained, the true hope of this land rests on the plans we have for the people of the Tower. There are long-term projects that must be maintained in our absence."