Caeden shook his head. “No,” he said quietly.
Karaliene looked at him in silence for a while. Gone were the hard, disapproving glares from their earlier meetings. Now she just seemed… curious. “I saw you,” she said eventually. “I saw you move toward them. You were so fast. And graceful, like…” She shook her head at the memory. “You were almost a blur, even compared to them.” She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
Caeden shrugged. “It’s the same as what happened with the Shackle. I have these… other abilities, when I need them. I can’t control them, though. That’s one of the reasons Taeris wants me to get my memory back—so I can understand those abilities, use them against the Blind.” He hesitated. “He thinks I may be an Augur.”
Karaliene nodded. “That sounds about right,” she murmured, almost to herself. She bit her lip. “So what do you want?”
Caeden stared at her blankly. “Want?”
Karaliene made an impatient gesture. “For saving me. We both know you didn’t have to do it.”
Caeden frowned. “Of course I had to do it. Those men would have killed you.” Taeris had said much the same thing, but he couldn’t understand it—leaving Karaliene to the Blind had never been an option, and the idea that anyone thought it had been was vaguely offensive. “It wasn’t for some sort of reward.”
There was a long silence as Karaliene continued to stare at him like a puzzle in need of solving, until Caeden began to grow uncomfortable.
Finally the princess leaned forward. “So you knew that being caught outside the palace could end in your being thrown in prison. You knew I’d followed you. Despite that, you fought off five men, then carried me back here—not just to the palace, but to my own rooms.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you want nothing for this?” Her face was impassive, not giving away even a hint of what she thought of the concept.
Caeden hesitated. “Not being thrown in prison would be nice,” he said cautiously.
There was another long silence, then Karaliene gave an abrupt, disbelieving laugh.
“You’re serious.” She gave a rueful shake of her head, eyes shining for a moment as she looked at Caeden.
He smiled back, a little dazed. “So… you’re not angry?”
Karaliene stared at him, a half smile on her lips. “No.” She brushed a stray strand of blond hair back behind her ear. “It seems I have misjudged you,” she added, sounding as if she rarely made such admissions. She glanced toward the door. “Have you seen much of the palace?”
Caeden shook his head.
The princess stood. “Then perhaps I should show you around.”
Caeden stood, too, noting the still-dark sky outside the window. “At this hour, Your Highness?”
Karaliene gave him an amused look. “I would like to continue this conversation,” she said, still smiling, “but I’m not sure that the two men outside your door would believe that was what was happening in here if we stayed much longer. They don’t need to accompany us, but they will certainly be more comfortable if we’re not locked away together.”
Caeden gave a nervous laugh, trying not to look flustered. “Then lead the way, Your Highness. I’d be honored.”
Karaliene snorted. “And no need for the formalities, Caeden. You saved my life. In private you can call me Kara.”
Caeden ducked his head, still a little bemused at the turn of events. “I will.”
They walked to the door. Karaliene opened it and immediately she was cold and formal once again; to Caeden’s eyes she grew six inches, somehow seeming to tower over the muscular bodyguards waiting outside.
“You may leave us,” she said in a peremptory tone. “I am going to show Caeden around the grounds. Your presence is no longer required.”
The shorter of the men gave her a nervous look. “Highness, if I may suggest—”
“No.” Karaliene cut him off with a slicing gesture. “No discussion. I know my father and uncle worry about me, but I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
The guard opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Karaliene silenced him as effectively as a slap to the face. Caeden tried to hide his amusement, but he still got a dirty stare from both men as they wandered off, their expressions sullen.
Once the men were out of sight, Karaliene relaxed again, and they began walking—not aimlessly, exactly, but at a companionable stroll, chatting about small things as they went.
Caeden’s nervousness soon faded away. The princess was easy to talk to, even charming now that she had dropped her formal facade, and Caeden found himself enjoying the conversation. At certain points, though, he had to remind himself of their respective positions. There was a warmth to Karaliene’s expression now when she looked at him, and she certainly showed no signs of wanting to be elsewhere… but she was still the princess. He knew that this newfound friendliness was nothing more than her expressing her gratitude.
Even so, time passed faster than Caeden would have credited, and it felt like only a few minutes later that they came to a balcony overlooking a wide-open courtyard, the now-midmorning sun bright in the sky. A squad of soldiers trained below, their swords flashing sporadically in the light. Caeden and Karaliene just watched for a while, the pleasant mood of the conversation lost as the reality of what was coming set in. The men below wore grim expressions; no one laughed or joked as they worked.
“I wish I could understand why these men have been acting so carelessly,” said Karaliene softly.
Caeden glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
Karaliene sighed. “General Parathe has been reporting to my father that they have started to just… take days off. Drinking and carousing, presumably. One day they fail to report for duty; the next day they just turn up and act like nothing is wrong. Parathe disciplined them at the start, but the problem is so widespread now that he cannot afford to. If General Jash’tar cannot stop the Blind, we will need every man we can get.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Caeden.
Karaliene turned to him; he felt his heart skip at how close she was standing. “That’s what everyone else is saying, though—and that’s why I’m worried,” she said in a low tone. “My father, the Houses—they’re so confident that our advantage in numbers is all that matters. And until last night, I might have agreed with them, but now…” She shivered, shaking her head. “I know Laiman Kardai and my uncle have been preparing the city for a siege since the first day they heard about the Blind, so I suppose we at least have that. But aside from those two, everyone else just seems to think that this invasion is a chance to play politics.”
Caeden glanced across at her; Karaliene’s tone was bitter. “How so?”
Karaliene hesitated, then grimaced. “Thanks to my father’s… instability, I’ve heard rumor of at least two of the Great Houses planning for the possibility of ruling. Not planning to rule, of course; that would be treason. But making sure that if there is an empty throne in the near future, they would be nearby to sit in it.” She shrugged. “And I’m a complication to those sort of plans, as you can imagine.”
Caeden looked at her in disbelief. “Surely they wouldn’t risk making things even more unstable. Not now.”
“You really haven’t spent much time around men of power, have you?” Karaliene said with wry amusement. “Take last night. In your place, half of the nobility would have demanded a heavy reward for saving me, and the other half would have just let me die.” She smiled, though with a hint of sadness.
Caeden looked at her with horror. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “That must be hard.”
“Don’t misunderstand, Caeden. I’m a princess; there are plenty of benefits, too. I don’t have to face many of the everyday trials that most people go through.” Karaliene’s smile faded. “But at times like this? Yes, it can be hard.”
They watched the soldiers for a while longer, then Karaliene said, “Who do you think they are?” She made a vague gesture to the north.
C
aeden paused to think. “I believe what Taeris believes,” he said after a moment. “That these men have been sent by Aarkein Devaed.”
The princess nodded. “There was something… wrong about that armor last night. It made me feel sick just being in contact with it.”
“Then you believe, too?”
The princess shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. It all still seems so surreal. A bedtime story brought to life.” She looked at him, expression curious. “Why do you believe?”
Caeden shrugged. “I just know,” he said quietly. “Somehow, I know that he’s not just a myth. When I think of him, I think of someone to be feared.” He sighed. “I seem to know a lot of things that no one else does, though.”
Karaliene considered. “Perhaps that’s why your memories were removed,” she suggested. “Perhaps you found out too much about Aarkein Devaed?”
Caeden rubbed his forehead. “Maybe.” It was similar to Taeris’s suggestion—it could certainly explain why the invaders seemed to be after him—yet he didn’t think it was correct. But then, he couldn’t even give a reason as to why he thought that. It was all very confusing.
Karaliene saw his disconsolate expression and hesitantly reached out to lay a hand on his forearm. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you will get to the bottom of it.”
Caeden’s breath caught and he froze, as if Karaliene were a bird he could accidentally scare off with a sudden movement. The princess didn’t remove her hand straight away and for a long moment they just stood there, watching the soldiers.
Then there were footsteps behind them and Karaliene turned smoothly, letting her hand slip to her side again.
Caeden turned as well, cringing to see Aelric striding toward them. With the possible exception of the king or the Northwarden, Aelric was the last person he’d wanted to see him with the princess. He’d heard the young swordsman talk of her often enough over the past month or so to know that he was hopelessly in love with her. The black expression on his face as he looked at Caeden did nothing to dispel that notion.
“Your Highness,” said Aelric stiffly, bowing to Karaliene. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Your uncle was most upset when he discovered you had dismissed your guards—especially to wander off in the early hours of the morning with a servant.” He shot an accusatory glare at Caeden. “I thought it best to find you before he did, lest he start taking too close an interest in who it is you’re with.”
Karaliene hesitated, for a moment looking as if she was going to protest. Then she gave an exasperated sigh. “Very well.” She turned to Caeden. “I’m sorry, but I really should go.”
Caeden smiled. “I have no doubt you have more important things to do, Your Highness. I’m honored to have received as much time as I have.”
Karaliene smiled at him warmly. “I hope we can talk again,” she said. “Soon.” With a final, irritable glare at Aelric, she walked back toward the palace.
Aelric made as if to follow, then stopped, frowning. He turned back to Caeden. “What was that all about, then?” he asked. There was nothing untoward in the question or his demeanor, but Caeden could sense the underlying tension.
Caeden gave an awkward shrug. “The princess offered to show me around the palace.”
Aelric scowled openly now. “That’s not what I meant.” His eyes narrowed. “Yesterday she could barely stand the sight of you. Now she’s talking to you like you’re her best friend?” Caeden breathed a sigh of relief. It at least sounded as if Aelric had not seen Karaliene’s hand on his arm, however brief the contact had been.
Caeden gestured, indicating ignorance. “I don’t know why she changed her mind.”
Aelric stared at him for a few seconds in silence. “Very well,” he said eventually, “but let me make this clear.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “If I find out you’re using some sort of Augur power to influence her, I will end this.” He looked conflicted. “I have no wish to see you harmed, Caeden. I believe that there is something… special about you. But if it means protecting Karaliene, I won’t hesitate to tell Elocien and the king about you.”
Without anything further, he spun on his heel and stalked off, leaving Caeden to stare after him worriedly.
Chapter 44
Davian’s stomach rumbled as he walked into the tavern.
The smell of stewing meat dragged him forward, despite his knowing he didn’t have enough coin in his pocket to pay for it. He’d covered a lot of ground over the past week and now he estimated that at the same pace, he was only a few days away from Ilin Illan itself. Fortifying his body with Essence had given him stamina he’d once only dreamed of; whenever he began to tire, he simply drew more from the world around him. He’d slept twice since leaving Deilannis, both times only briefly, and more because he was worried about the effects of staying awake for so long than because he needed to.
The one thing Essence hadn’t been able to do, however, was stop him from being hungry. His stomach growled again, sucking at his insides. He glanced around. The village was small and so was the tavern; there were only a few patrons tonight, mostly farmers from the looks of them.
“Evening, friend.” A pretty girl planted herself in front of him. “Can I help you?”
Davian winced. He knew how he looked—disheveled, clothes ragged, a pack on his back that was clearly empty. More like a potential thief than a customer.
“I’m out of coin,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to work for a meal. Anything you need doing. You don’t have to feed me until after I’m done, but—”
“That’s fine.” The girl’s expression softened. “We’ll work something out later. You look exhausted. Take a seat and I’ll see what Cook has to spare.”
Davian gave her a grateful smile in return. The girl was striking, with long legs and green eyes that shone in the firelight. For a second she seemed almost familiar… though he couldn’t say of whom she reminded him.
He collapsed into the nearest chair, relieved to rest despite knowing he didn’t need it. It wasn’t too long before the serving girl was back, placing a large plate of steaming meat and vegetables in front of him.
Davian looked at it in astonishment; at the few places that had been willing to trade food for work, the meals had been stingy at best. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” he said sincerely.
“Times being what they are, we can all use a little help.”
Davian nodded, his expression serious. He’d heard about the invaders at the first big town he’d come across after Deilannis, and had pushed himself hard ever since. He had abilities now—a way to help Wirr and the others, help fight whatever was coming from the Boundary. He had to get to Ilin Illan before it was too late.
“Any word on the invasion?” he asked between mouthfuls.
“Folk are saying King Andras has sent out troops, but… a lot of people are getting out of the city.” The girl flashed him a pretty smile, sliding into the chair opposite him.
Davian paused in midmouthful, suddenly aware of just how attractive the girl was. Her tight-fitting outfit showed off her full figure to good effect, and he forced himself to focus on his plate as she leaned forward.
“That’s good the king is sending troops,” he said, a little distracted. Then he remembered his vision, the one from Deilannis, and grimaced. “Hopefully.”
“Hopefully,” agreed the girl with an easy smile, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’m Ishelle. You can call me Shel.”
“Nice to meet you, Shel. I’m Davin. Davian.” Davian shook his head, flushing as he corrected himself. His mind was sluggish.
Ishelle’s smile changed, and she looked… sad. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Davian frowned. He opened his mouth to ask what she was talking about, but suddenly his tongue felt thicker than usual, and the only sound that came out was an odd gurgling. He tried to focus on Ishelle’s face, but everything was blurry.
With a rising panic, he realized the expression on her face
had not been one of sadness. It had been one of guilt.
He tried to stand, but the hard wooden floor of the tavern rushed up to meet him.
Everything faded.
* * *
Davian shook his head, then groaned at the motion.
His skull felt as though it were about to split in two, and movement only made matters worse. His mouth was dry and his eyelids gummed, but when he tried to move his hands to rub his face, he found that they were tied to his sides. He turned his head, looking around blearily from his position on the bed.
The room he was in was nondescript. The bed and a couple of chairs were the only pieces of furniture that he could see; the timber floors and walls were bare. A small window provided what little light there was, the illumination clearly originating from a street lamp, indicating that it was still night.
Vaguely he began recalling the events of earlier in the evening. Ishelle had clearly drugged him with something—why, he had no idea—but if she believed she could keep him tied up, then she was going to be surprised.
He closed his eyes, reaching out with kan. There were sources of Essence everywhere—including people—but he chose to draw it from the fire that burned in the kitchen. He needed only a little, not even enough to extinguish the flames.
He solidified the Essence, made it razor sharp, and then sliced through his bonds, grimacing as he remembered where he’d learned that trick. Once free he stood and stretched muscles stiff from disuse, feeling almost casual as he surveyed his surroundings.
Absently he realized he had a Shackle around his arm. It made little difference to him—it stopped him only from drawing Essence from within, something he couldn’t do anyway—but it was an irritation. He concentrated for a moment, intrigued. The Shackle was just a layer of kan, containing Essence within the body. Of course. He pushed at the metal on his arm with kan for a few moments, experimenting. The Shackle suddenly retracted, falling to the floor with a clatter.
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