Castle of Lies

by Kiersi Burkhart

  “Of course. Aren’t you?” I tear one of the wood arms off the chair at her vanity, tossing it into the mouth. As it chews, the smile grows wider. The mouth has grown in size. It wants the rest of the chair.

  I heave the whole thing over my head as Thelia shouts, “Parsifal!” The chair goes flying. The stones part so the mouth can open wider and wider, until it’s almost as big as the wall itself. Inside the gaping maw the chair goes. The teeth slam down, chewing, scattering splinters everywhere.

  Thelia and I look at each other. “What is it?” she asks, breathless, as the mouth shrinks, leaving behind only a plain stone wall.

  I remember what Sapphire said about the Magic spillage and everything becoming coated in it—including us. “It’s the castle,” I say. “Magic has brought the castle to life.”

  Bayled

  “A drink?” Red asks, pouring a glass of dark alcohol.

  “If you insist.” I’ve never been a big drinker like Thelia and Parsifal, but even with a fire in the sitting room hearth, I wouldn’t mind the warmth in my bones.

  He puts the glass in my hands and sits down across from me. “Now, where were we?”

  Baron Durnhal has always been a little too clever for his trousers. I frown and say, “Hm, I don’t know—what about you cutting down my prisoner? Or how a cratertooth tried to have me killed? Or perhaps we could start with how you deserted us in our time of greatest need?”

  The Baron gives me another inscrutable look. “Where are the others? Tell me, Bayled, where are the other lords who responded to the King’s call and sent their men off to join his army? Where are they now?”

  I hate rhetorical traps. It’s just the sort of thing Thelia does. “I don’t know,” I finally admit. I hate how childish I sound. “Nul se Lan seized the army and left as soon as the elves captured Melidihan. They’re gone.”

  “Ah,” Red says, his face still betraying nothing. He sips his drink. “You have always been too trusting. I expect that’s how you ended up in this situation.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I certainly never thought you’d turn out to be a man of such poor character.” I won’t let him deflect the conversation from his own crimes.

  He sighs. “When the command came to join up, I knew what I had to do. Not for the Kingdom, but for the Crimson Woods.”

  “You knew the punishment.”

  “I’d rather risk that than let my people be fodder for King Hindermark’s harebrained plan.” He sets his drink back down with a clink. “His tactic hasn’t changed in a decade. Hurling soldiers into battle like rocks, thinking that the more of them you throw—even if your aim’s shit—the more damage you’ll do.”

  I’m reminded of the thousands of men we picked up along the Low Road, carrying nothing but pig knives or rusty swords, none of them trained for war. Pebbles in an avalanche.

  “We could’ve won it,” I say. “If I hadn’t left my army to come after a deserter—”

  Red shakes his head. “No human army can win against The People. The oldest living creatures on Helyanda? You’re as much of a knob as the King if you believed that.”

  I had to believe it if I was going to lead. “You’re a traitor,” I say. “Why should I hear this as anything other than an excuse for betraying us?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe to you I’m a traitor. To the people of the Crimson Woods, I’ve kept us alive.” He stands up and walks to the fireplace, poking a log to scatter the ashes. “You should do the same.”

  Only his people, his barony, matter to him. I’m disgusted by his indifference to the rest of us.

  “No.” I get up and join him where he looks into the flames. “I have to get to Melidihan.” And find Corene.

  Red chortles, as if this is all just a game. “There’s no point in playing at heroism when The People are involved. If they have truly taken Four Halls, you don’t have a chance. Go home.”

  “That is my home.”

  “No,” he says. “The Northern Republic.” I shake my head. I don’t know that place anymore. It’s where I’m from, but it’s not who I am now. “You’ll be safe there.”

  “Safe?” What a pointless word. “And abandon everyone I care about? Go back to a country that I don’t remember—that doesn’t remember me—without the woman I love?” I turn to face the Baron. “I’m going to do what I can to salvage the Holy Kingdom. That’s my duty.”

  “Stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” he says into his glass. “You’ll die.”

  I shrug. “Dying was a distinct possibility when I led the Kingdom into war.”

  Calmly, he says, “The Holy Kingdom doesn’t care about you, Bayled Vasha.” It’s supposed to hurt, and it does. I don’t let it show. “You’re a foreigner. The King never intended to actually pass the crown to you. You do realize he’s just been using you this whole time? He saw you as a path to the vast riches and commerce of the Northern Republic. He made you his heir because he thought it could lead to wealth, and perhaps to annexation.”

  It’s so hard not to laugh. “Annex the Northern Republic? The Republic crushed the Kingdom in the war.”

  “As if that could stop a man that greedy from scheming. You’ve always just been a pa-chi-chi piece on the King’s board—and a much easier one to move around than Hareed and Nella Vasha.”

  “My parents?” I ask. “What do they have to do with—”

  “Didn’t you ever think it was odd?” Red asks. “After all the times your father put out a candle to make a welcoming home for Magic, it only caught fire when you were out riding with your friends?”

  My mouth bobs open and closed, but I can’t put the words together.

  “But when Hindermark saw he could annex the Klissen much more easily,” he continues, “he dropped you for Nul se Lan.”

  I shake my head. This is horsefish. It has to be. “He’s been like a father to me,” I say, but it sounds pathetic.

  “Has he?” Red asks. “Making you keep the Kingdom’s ledgers, solve his problems, clean up his messes?”

  It hurts too much for me to go down that road now. I shut my eyes, try to tamp it down, and say, “He doesn’t matter. My people are the ones who need my help.”

  “I’ve tried to tell you it’s pointless, Bayled. No mortal can win this fight.”

  “Is that why you left Four Halls last spring?” I demand, white-hot anger coursing through me. “Because you knew the elves were coming?”

  He startles. “What? Don’t be ridiculous. There were rumors that The People were gathering their forces, but everyone had heard them.” He turns to me, and the reflection of the flames turn his eyes red. “No, I left for . . . personal reasons.”

  “Corene said that you left to get away from Thelia, that you’d found a more suitable woman for marriage,” I blurt.

  The Baron snorts. “There are no other women, I assure you. There will never be other women. Thelia was my exception.”

  “Exception?” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and my face flushes. “Oh.” Corene probably didn’t know this about him. Why would she tell me something that wasn’t true? “Then why did you really leave?”

  “I was warned,” he says, watching me carefully. “Someone told me I would regret marrying Thelia.”

  “What did they say?”

  “That her mother is an orphan from the Midland Hills,” he says, swishing his liquor around. “That she’s descended from Magickers. That her blood is cursed, like her ancestors’ was. That she’s been trained in every art a woman should never be trained in—in kroga, in the sword, in manipulation and trickery.”

  My heart grows heavier and harder, like stone. It sinks into my stomach as he speaks. He’s not wrong. He’s just also not right. “That’s what drove you away?” I ask. “That she can’t control who her parents are, and she can protect herself?”

  The Baron laughs and returns to his comfortable chair. “Is that supposed to be a joke? Everything she said only made me like Thelia more.”

  She?

  Red
digs a hand into the thick, plush fabric. “Except for the last thing. She insisted that everything Thelia ever told me was a lie so she could marry me for my title and wealth.”

  I can’t believe it. Not after what Thelia told me about her feelings for the Baron. “The word of one person was enough to outweigh everything you felt?”

  “I had no reason to doubt. Why would the Princess want to sabotage her own cousin’s love life?”

  The Princess. I try to find words, but I don’t have any. Corene, sabotage Thelia? I search my memory for a reason. Could she really have thought she was protecting the Baron? From her own best friend?

  “Corene said she knew Thelia didn’t love me,” Red says, “because Thelia loves you.”

  My mouth falls open. The idea is so preposterous that I burst into laughter.

  “Are you mocking me?” Red asks quietly.

  “No!” I take a deep breath to stop cackling. “It’s just . . . impossible. Thelia doesn’t even like me.”

  “How do you know?”

  I remember the morning she told me about the Baron like it was today. “I’ve known Thelia since we were children. She never had one crush. She didn’t like anyone touching her—certainly not me. She was in love with you.”

  He stares at me, and in his open face I see an opportunity. Thelia is a gaping sore spot for this hardened man, and I can use that, if I place my stones right.

  “She told me so in confidence,” I add. “And I believe it was the truth.” I have him now. Thelia would be so proud.

  “But how . . . how can you be certain?”

  “She let you touch her, right? Kiss her?” Red’s face goes, well—red.

  “Many times.” He stares into the flames flickering inside the fireplace. “It was always like a little thunderstorm.”

  I feel sick to my stomach. Red truly loved Thelia, and Corene spoiled it. She must have meant well, but—I need to finish this. “Then you left,” I say, pressing him. The Baron turns away and grimaces. “You could’ve taken her with you, to your safe little fortress guarded by all your clever traps. But you didn’t.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.” I put my glass down on the table. “I won’t try. Your romantic problems aren’t my concern. It’s time I be off to bed. If I’m going to ride back to Melidihan, I’d better get started early.” I pause for effect. “So I can save the woman I love.”

  Red’s still staring at the hearth. “Good night,” I say. “Thank you for the hospitality.” I let the door fall closed behind me.

  Chapter 13

  Parsifal

  We hear the sound of the Magic barrier unsealing and opening as Sapphire appears silently in the doorway. But they stop in their tracks when they see Thelia sitting on her bed, reading a book. For once, their expression isn’t guarded.

  She’s beautiful—I know. Her new short hair shows off a sleek neck and a proud, square jaw. Her shoulders are strength and elegance.

  When Thelia looks up, Sapphire’s eyes dart away. They finally notice me watching them, and I know how to get what we want.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I say to Sapphire, sidling up to them. They take a matching step back, eyeing me. “Last night, you know . . . it shook us up. Particularly my cousin.” I walk over to Thelia, who’s giving me a perplexed look. I put an arm over her shoulders, avoiding her wounds. “She desperately wants to see her family. To know that they’re alive.”

  Sapphire glances between us, their icy-blue eyes hard to read. I think they’re nervous. “Not my decision.”

  But it was their decision to sneak us outside, so I know Sapphire has at least some sway—maybe not enough to bust us out of here, but enough to shuffle us around a little.

  “I miss my dad,” Thelia says, glancing at me. Saying what we discussed. “His health isn’t great. I don’t want him to die and not get to say good-bye.”

  Sapphire’s reaction is so slight that I almost miss it—but there it is, the flash of sympathy. “They’re so close. Don’t you have parents, Sapphire?” I realize I don’t actually know the answer. Do elves simply grow out of the ground?

  Sapphire looks at me like they’re trying to parse my intentions, but the cultural barrier is just thick enough. “I do.” Their indifference falters for a moment, and I can see it: affection. Nostalgia.

  “Wouldn’t you want to know whether your own parents were alive or dead?”

  The elf lets out a great sigh. “Fine. We will go, now. I can give you only minutes, so be quick.”

  Usually I’m not interested in thanking Melidia for things like these Holy Kingdom folks do—I mean, she’s never done much for me—but right now, I do.

  The castle is silent and dark and frigid. Winter has come while we’ve been locked inside. The tiny pink wisp leads us once again, occasionally doing loops in the air past our heads. Thelia squeaks as it gets close to her face, but I feel only a gust of fresh air as it passes, chittering like a rodent.

  In South Hall, guards dressed in gleaming silver stand in front of the doorways, a pike against one shoulder. They don’t look bored. Do long ears even get bored? I’d be bored.

  My hand finds Thelia’s. I didn’t intend it but now we’re holding hands, afraid of what we’ll find.

  Sapphire stops in front of Thelia’s old suite. “I brought visitors,” they tell the guard. “Authorized by Commander Valya.” That’s a lie, and Sapphire’s telling it for us.

  Wordlessly, the guard taps the pike once on the floor before stepping aside. With a zzztttt, the blue, oil-sheen glow around the door starts to peel off, fading and darkening, until it’s gone. Sapphire twists the doorknob.

  Inside, there’s a fetid smell. Trunks lie open, spilling out their contents. Random objects lie scattered around. The table’s covered in dirty dishes. Where’s their Magic food cart?

  Morgaun springs up from the table. Not the first person I’d hoped to see. Duke Finegarden staggers to his feet much more slowly. “Thelia. Parsifal.” For the first time I can remember, his voice shakes.

  “Daddy!” Thelia goes straight for the Duke and wraps her arms around his stiff body. At least Sapphire, who’s watching this unfold, will believe the story I told to get us here.

  Duke Finegarden drapes his arms over his daughter’s shoulders and, after a heavy breath, squeezes back. “We thought you were dead.”

  “Not so much.”

  “Your hair,” he whispers.

  She ducks her head. “I know. It’s a long story.”

  I peer around the suite, and when I don’t find what I’m searching for, I step into the adjoining room. Our trunks are still here and the bed’s been slept in, but it’s like my parents have turned invisible.

  “Where have you been?” Morgaun’s asking when I return to the main room.

  “We’ve been locked up in North Hall,” Thelia says.

  “Where are Mom and Dad?” My voice comes out strained. My mother, already frail, and my father, who can never keep his mouth shut. The Duke looks away, but Morgaun’s lips curl up on one side like he’s relishing what he’s about to say.

  “Oh, they were the first to go.”

  That smile—twitching, growing on his filthy ratlike face. I could rip it right off him, and his appending throat, and any organs thereafter. Perhaps Thelia would help me do it. I take a step forward, squeezing my hand into a fist. He’s stronger than I am, but maybe I can make him hurt before I go down.

  Duke Finegarden steps in front of his son and places a hand on my shoulder. I believe it’s the only time he’s ever touched me. “I’m sorry for your loss, Percy. I really am.”

  I gather myself and look up at him. “What happened?”

  The Duke’s shoulders fall. He can only show sympathy and humanity for my parents in their death. “Your mother wouldn’t eat and died within days. When they came to collect the body . . .” He turns his head away. “Antonin wouldn’t let her go. It came to blows.” His gaze travels to Sapphire stan
ding in the doorway, and his gray eyes harden into marbles. “A weakened, hungry, grieving man—they slammed him to the floor, right here. His spine snapped like a twig.”

  Thelia reaches out to comfort me, but I shake her off. I spin on Sapphire. “How could you let this happen?”

  Before they can answer, Morgaun stomps across the room toward them. “What’s this long ear still doing here?” Sapphire’s gaze follows him, but they don’t move. “Get out!” Morgaun shouts. “I should get to talk to my sister without your disgusting ears listening.”

  The elf looks startled and reaches for their sword. “I cannot—”

  “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to beat those creepy eyeballs right out of your head.”

  Sapphire glances from Thelia to me—like they’re asking, Will you be safe if I leave? I can’t even look at them right now.

  “It’s fine, Sapphire,” Thelia says. Morgaun’s head whips to her. Sapphire makes an expression I can’t decipher and leaves the room.

  Thelia

  “Oh, so the monster listens to you?” Morgaun snarls at me. “I bet you’re fucking, huh?”

  The one thing I’ll say about rotting in squalor down in a dungeon—there was no Morgaun. I want to two-finger slam him right in the abdomen. Unlike the armpit slam, which shocks the nervous system into temporary paralysis, the abdomen slam bursts the organs. Your skin doesn’t break, but you’ll still bleed to death inside.

  “Morgaun,” our father snaps at him. “Sit down. Now.”

  Morgaun yanks a chair out from under the table and sits down hard. “I’m just saying, if she got between an elf’s legs, it would come as no surprise to me.”

  Daddy leans forward. “If you say another word, I’ll hang you out the window myself. You don’t talk about my daughter that way.”

  He has a particular way of saying my daughter, like I’m a possession. Is that all I’ve ever been to him? I think it’s something I’ve always known, but pretended not to.

  I don’t know if Parsifal’s listening as he picks through his parents’ possessions. This must be how he’s felt all these years living at the King’s mercy—like an object with no control over his life. And now he’s all that’s left of the Bellisares.