He had called me an angel. He was hallucinating.
I was so distracted by my thoughts that it almost escaped me that Dylan’s hands were still on my shoulders, his face just close enough to be too close.
“You have silver eyes,” he said in awe. The perfect corners of his lips curved upward, teasing me with the hint of an irresistible smile. From this close, I could see that his were a warm hazel, another eye color I had never seen before. I wished I wasn’t mesmerized. “I thought maybe they were blue-gray… but they’re not. They’re silver. I’ve never seen silver eyes. Is that normal where you come from, or do they find you just as unique as I do?”
Pulling away, I broke the spell. “Yes, its normal.”
It was evident that Rune wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. I might as well have my “tour guide” show me around so I could get a better handle on how to escape. I knew that there was a good chance that if I set my mind to finding home, my luck would take me just the right way to avoid trouble, but the stakes were high and I didn’t want to mess things up. I’d have to be very careful.
“We can go now,” I said, moving to leave the room. I stole one backward glance at Rune, but he lay unchanged.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Dylan said brightly, following me out.
* * *
Breakwater Keep was the strangest structure I’d ever explored. The Axton brothers weren’t the only people who lived in it, though they were the only ones who resided in the topmost story. A relatively small handful of keep workers, cooks, maids and guards, lived in apartments on the third floor so that they were close at hand. Dylan kept me well away from certain corridors, and I could only speculate they were areas that a stranger like me was barred to trespass.
He did make a point of showing me to the kitchens, the dining hall (which was something like the one in my school, only much nicer), and the games room that was only open to keep personnel. He was kind enough to leave the cells in the bottom of the keep off of our tour. I had already seen them, and didn’t care to again.
I asked Dylan if he would show me around Breakwater, but he said the shops had already closed for the evening and that he was more than happy to take me through town the following morning. It was better than nothing.
With sunset barely sustaining itself under the smothering embrace of night, the most impressive place to show me was the observatory. It bubbled up atop the fourth floor in a glass dome. The brass telescopes that filled it were like metal, many-limbed trees. Most of their eyes were facing out over the sea.
Dylan led me out through a side door that took us to the roof. The last of the light resisting nightfall threw breathtaking arcs of red, pink and purple across the sky. The colors blazed behind a silhouette of towering mountains. They were my mountains: the infallible range that surrounded Haven Valley. Home was just beyond them. I could feel it.
My thoughts drifted to wondering what my parents were doing. Had Ruby and Kyle already given up looking for me, chalking it all up to my usual flightiness? I missed them so much, and it had only been one day. My vision blurred.
“I know it was a bit extravagant, but I didn’t want to make you cry,” Dylan muttered guiltily.
My attention broke from the light receding away from me, touching my home more than it was touching me. I wanted to chase after it. I wanted the sunset to take me with it, just as far as Rivermarch. How weird a concept was that?
When I looked down I noticed two things for the first time: Breakwater at night, and a picnic laid out for us on the roof.
From this height and in the darkness the town didn’t seem too different from Rivermarch. All the details were obscured save for the cheerily glowing street lights, cottage windows, and lanterns that bobbed from the prows of reed gondolas.
The thick blanket laid out with cushions and the stool topped with a large platter of covered food was a much more unusual sight than the city below.
“What is this?” I asked, wondering if I had been better off in the cell than overwhelmed by Dylan’s attentions.
“It’s the only thing I could think of to make sure you’d eat something. The door we came through is locked and we’re not going back in until you’ve eaten,” he said, jingling the iron key in his hand. “Maybe the cold will be a motivator. It only gets worse. But there’s a shawl for you if you want it.”
I glared at him for trying to force me to eat, but it was true that I had avoided everything that was offered to me when we passed through the dining hall. I wished that I could defy him and my hunger, but I was feeling weak and shaky. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right, I needed to eat.
Being alone at night on the rooftop with a guy I hardly knew was plenty enough to make me feel uncomfortable, not even counting the fact that I was a prisoner and far away from home. In more ways than one, Dylan’s charms made him seem more like a storybook prince, and less of a creepy stranger, and that distinction was the only thing that held me back from throwing myself against the observatory door and screaming for help.
If he had wanted to do anything terrible to me, there were plenty of chances before this one. I was under his watch all night and all day, and he had only treated me with courtesy.
I relaxed a bit as I considered everything and forced myself to sit on the blanket beside the food.
His smile looked a little overly smug for my taste. He was clearly too pleased with himself to be phased by the icy lance of my continuous glare. He was ridiculously gorgeous, and well-mannered too, but his cocky attitude infuriated me. It was like he decided he had won some great battle when I finally gave in to sitting down.
Dylan gingerly unveiled the steaming food, and the aromas were enough to make my mouth water. There was a soup, a spiced white meat that looked like chicken, gravy, fresh herbed bread sticks, a vegetable I didn’t recognize, and a little round cake. Beside the food sat two plates, two bowls, and utensils.
He poured my bowl of soup first. I didn’t wait for spoons. I lifted the little bowl right up and drank the thick broth. It tasted like delicious, creamy potatoes. When I saw the shock on his face, it was my turn to smirk. I ate the rest of my meal with my hands, pausing only to lick my fingertips and double-dip the breadsticks in the gravy cup. He looked utterly disgusted by my absolute lack of manners. Mission accomplished.
“Good chicken,” I said around a mouthful.
“It’s goose, actually,” he replied, frowning and poking at the plate he prepared for himself. He seemed to have lost his appetite.
“Napkin please?” I asked politely. He very gladly handed one over to me. “Earlier you said something I didn’t understand. Margrave. You said that Rune was a Dragoon for the Margrave. What is that?”
He began to chuckle, but stopped when he realized that I was serious. “Alright then. If you insist that you don’t know. I told you that my brother is Common-Lord of Breakwater. If my brother Brendon governs, it’s the Margrave who rules.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, perplexed, busily wiping my fingers off with the napkin.
Dylan sighed and shifted in his seat. “For every village, town or city there is a Common-Lord that governs the people there.”
I nodded. That much made sense. The Common-Lord must have been like a governor or mayor.
“But there are also Installments in every town. The Installments host the Margrave’s soldiers: the Commanders and Dragoons. The Margraves are overlords, and there is one for each region. Commanders take charge of each city when the Margrave isn’t present, acting out his will. What they want, they get,” he explained carefully. “Above the Margraves are the Princes. The Prince of the North and our Prince of the West are fighting. Thus, the war.”
“I still don’t understand. If the overlords and their Commanders are in charge of the cities, why are there lords too? Shouldn’t they be the same thing?” I asked, confused. Was there one government here or two?
“No. Not exactly,” he said, losing some of the carefree light in his
eyes. “The Margraves and the Princes, they aren’t human. Not anymore. The Commanders are hardly any better.” Quietly, he added, “We do all the work, and they take whatever they want from us. They stop at nothing. If they’re the wolves… we’re the sheep.”
It was all starting to sink in. The towns of regular people were being controlled and oppressed by these Margraves and their Princes. If they weren’t human anymore, what were they?
“Wait a minute,” I said, as a very unsettling thought dawned upon me. “You said the Dragoons are their soldiers?”
“Yes,” Dylan said looking evenly into my eyes. He knew why I was asking the question. Rune.
“Are… are Dragoons human?”
“Yes, of course they are. They’re our best,” he said, and I caught a bit of bitterness in his voice. “That’s why they take them away from us, to keep us weak. The Commanders though… if a Dragoon makes it to being a Commander, that’s when they start to change.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what “change” meant.
“It sounds terrible. Why don’t you get rid of the Margraves?” I asked.
Dylan’s face drained of color. “It’s one thing explain all of this, but it’s another to speak of freedom. What you’re suggesting is treason. Don’t ever say it again.”
“But the militia is yours, right? You have your own fighters. It seems so wrong to let them-”
Dylan cut me off. “Let? We don’t let them do anything. They take what they want and let us live. Yes, the Common-Lord commands the militia, but we’re only even permitted one because of the Lurcher attacks. Some cities aren’t even allowed a militia, and ours is escorted by Dragoons and closely watched by the Commanders who report to the Margrave. An uprising would be suicidal.”
“What about the Dragoons? You said they’re regular people until they’re taken away for training. Why don’t they help?” I persisted.
“Pawns, Katelyn. They’re pawns.”
Young Lord Axton might have been despairingly handsome, but he was no fool, and while I struggled to understand the complexities of the outer world, I made quick note of his intelligence.
“But you said they were the best,” I insisted stubbornly. An image was being rendered in my mind. These Margraves, Commanders and even Dragoons, were the bad guys. I couldn’t imagine Rune being evil. He talked about sacrifice. He was good. I knew he was.
“Do you have any idea how powerful a Commander is, let alone a Margrave? No, you can’t know,” he said, leaning forward to pour me a glass of cider. “Hold the glass please.”
I was confused by his request, but I did what he asked.
For a moment nothing happened. And then I could hardly believe what I was seeing.
Cider began, very slowly, lifting out of the cup and floating into the air. Free from the constraints of my glass, it took on an oblong shape, wobbling this way and that as it drifted. A few smaller bubbles of liquid separated and began going their own way.
“What is this?” I breathed in wonder.
“It’s me,” he said, seeming mildly amused by my awe.
“You’re doing this? Y-you’re making it float?” I stammered in disbelief.
“I’m not making it float exactly. Let’s just say I can loosen gravity’s grip on things, just a bit. Hold out this napkin,” he said handing me another.
I put my empty glass down, opened the napkin under the floating cider, gravity resumed, and cider splashed downward. Startled, I caught the liquid in the napkin and saved my clothes.
“That’s… amazing,” I said, staring down at the soaked cloth.
“Not really,” he said dismissively. “I have what they call, ‘The Lift.’ But I can only lighten small objects. A lot of people are born with Abilities, but mine wasn’t powerful enough to be of interest to the Margrave. The people with real skill are recruited as Dragoons. Knowing that, imagine that even the most powerful Dragoon can hardly stand up to a Commander, and a Commander hasn’t the slightest chance up against an actual Margrave. As for the Princes, well, they’re incomprehensible.
“So now you know the pecking order. Get used to being on the bottom. That’s just the way it is. And don’t ever say anything about an overthrow ever again. Not to anyone,” Dylan said sternly, with undisguised concern. “They’d kill you.”
I stared at him in horror. Kill me? I’d come from a peaceful valley where the worst sorts of violence were bar fights and good spirited wrestling matches. No one was ever killed by anyone else. What was happening to me? I’d been on the outside for two nights, and I’d already suggested something that wouldn’t probably just involve a fight, but a war where people would die. Surely, that is what it would take to uproot the Margraves, and that didn’t even sound possible.
None of this was my problem, and I was grateful for that, but it made me miss home all the more. I wanted nothing to do with this violent world. I had to get back.
I thought of Rune. How stupid I had been, in not bringing him home with me instead of here. He would have gotten help. I’d face the consequences of home any day. Nothing could be worse than this.
“Dylan,” I asked. “What is Rune’s power?”
He groaned and shook his head. “He’s a Dragoon. His Ability is powerful and dangerous. What does it matter?”
My curiosity was overwhelming me, but Dylan was close-lipped on the subject. I got the distinct impression that talking about the powers of Dragoons made him feel inadequate.
Powerful and dangerous was all I got. I had a difficult time imagining my injured friend, who was so vulnerable when I met him, being dangerous.
“When I spoke to Rune, he said that if they didn’t take him, they’d take everyone. What did he mean by that?” I asked, pulling the shawl around me for warmth.
“Every year or two, the Margrave himself comes to Breakwater to survey the children,” Dylan explained, sounding entirely detached. “Talents, like my useless one, start to develop between the age of ten and thirteen. If the Margrave senses a powerful ability, he demands to take the child and make them a Dragoon. Of course, being a Dragoon means severing all connections to your life. No family, no friends.”
“Being disconnected from all of that makes it easier for the Margrave to control them,” I said, putting the pieces together.
“It’s more than that. Dragoons obviously aren’t allowed to have relationships of any kind, let alone marry or reproduce. Population control. What the Margraves have are entire cities of hostages,” he told me. I noted bitterness in his voice, but strangely, it was directed at the Dragoons and not so much the Margraves. “If a parent dare try to stop the Margrave from taking their child, or if the chosen child clings to its family, the Margrave seizes all of the children. It’s the Penalty.”
“They would take all the children away?” I asked aghast, pulling my shawl closer around me.
“Every last one,” Dylan said, leaning back. “It has happened. The children with weaker abilities, the ones who can’t be Dragoons, they never come back. Then there is the quota. If too many Dragoons die in battle and their number dips below the minimum requirement of soldiers for the region, a Margrave or Commander will perform mandatory recruitment to recoup their numbers. Again, if any of the children’s families protest…” Dylan snapped his fingers to make his point. I flinched.
In that terrible instance, I could understand what Rune meant back in the cave. He had to be a Dragoon. There was no other choice. It was to protect the other children. How young was he when they took him away? What kind of a life did he have to lead now?
I felt sick.
“Can’t you do something? Can’t anyone do something about this?” I asked, searching Dylan’s face for any kind of emotion, but I found none.
“You’re doing it again Katelyn. Be careful what you say,” he told me severely. “This is just the way things are. As long as we provision the Installments and do what the Margrave asks, they let us live our lives.”
“They take children!”
“Katelyn,” he said as if my concern was endearing. “Some things can’t be changed. There’s a balance to everything. Dragoons have power, and no life. We have no power, but we have life.”
He reached a hand up to brush the side of my cheek. His words didn’t console me. The knots in my stomach only tightened. This place was so wrong. I pulled stiffly away from him. The smile he gave me was a patient one.
If Ruby knew I had leaned away from a guy as attractive as Dylan, she would have smacked me. The thought stung. I didn’t belong here. I belonged in Rivermarch with my friends, worrying about homework, not sitting atop Keeps, imprisoned by handsome Lords and talking about oppression and revolutionary wars.
I got up and stood facing the darkness beyond Breakwater, where I knew my mountains were. Dylan followed me.
“Now,” he said amiably. “I’ve answered your questions. Some of them could have gotten the both of us into big trouble if we weren’t alone on the rooftop. So answer mine. Who are you and where are you from?”
“I’m Katelyn Kestrel,” I said, meeting his gaze as steadily as I could. “And I’m tired. I’ve held up my end of the deal. I ate. Can I go back to my room now?”
Dylan sighed, but kept his word.
“You’re going to have to tell me eventually you know,” he said, unlocking the observatory door. “I’ll give you tonight to think about it, but when my brother returns, you won’t have any other choice.”
As I stepped into the warmth of the observatory, it was even clearer to me that despite his kindnesses, Dylan was my jailor. There was still only one person I knew I could trust.
Chapter 16: Dylan Axton
It was another two days before I was able to see the outside of the keep again. Dylan had been called away for his duties as Common-Lord and that left me under lock and key once again.
The first day of my solitude was a blessing. I spent it in my “guest” room trying to dissolve the information I had learned the night before and come up with some semblance of an escape plan. Every possibility led back to talking to Rune. I’d gone stir crazy by the second day, and any ideas that didn’t involve him evaporated. Finding some way to reach him was my only immediate goal.
Haven (War of the Princes) Page 10