by Casey Odell
“They’ll have my head if they found out I just gave ya a horse,” he said softly, shifting from foot to foot as if he were afraid to be heard.
“Tell them I stole it then.” She was growing impatient. The hours of the night were fading away. If she didn’t leave soon, she would have missed her chance.
He still looked a little apprehensive.
She rested a hand on her dagger, letting a flash of her mark show. “Or I really could steal it. You may have heard rumors of who I am.”
He just raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. Perhaps he hadn’t then.
Her hand fell limply back to her side. She really needed to work on this intimidation thing…
“Even though I know ya couldn’t steal a horse from me, I don’t want any trouble.”
Claire sighed. This was taking longer than she had thought it would.
“But ya do seem like an important guest of His Highness…”
With a little more convincing, and a few sips from her wine flask— a provision she had stressed heavily to Marla— the young man finally agreed to saddle a horse for her. A mare, plain brown, solid, but with a calm disposition, was the lucky choice.
“Thank you,” Claire said after the lad helped her up into the saddle. She gripped the pommel hard. The horse stood patiently beneath her, unmoving. This wasn’t so bad.
“Not as terrifying as it looks, eh?” He rubbed the horse’s head.
Claire shook her head, trying to look calm.
“Her name is Azra,” he said as he stroked her mane with a rather fond look in his eyes.
“Azra,” she repeated, admiringly, looking down at her lone companion for the journey ahead. Already the responsibility sat heavy on her shoulders. She took a deep breath, trying not to let the panic rise inside of her. One step at a time.
He handed her the reins and helped her tie her pack to the saddle, then led her a little ways towards the door to the courtyard. “Getting past the guards will be your task, I’m afraid. And if anyone asks, you stole it. Gotta save my own skin.”
Claire nodded. She adjusted in the saddle. Surely it would become uncomfortable after hours of riding. Wherever she was going. She watched quietly as the young man pulled open one of the doors, the courtyard beyond quiet and dark. Fear roiled deep in her gut. She could do this.
She summoned up her brief knowledge from all those years ago and gave a slight kick to the horse’s sides. The horse lurched forward. Claire gripped the pommel tighter, her body tensing. She squeezed her legs tighter in the saddle, afraid to lose her balance, and the horse’s stride quickened.
Panic filled her as the horse increased her speed. The stable boy shouted out to her, but she couldn’t make out the words. She grasped the saddle tighter, afraid to move her hands from the pommel to pull back on the reins. She was almost to the door, the stable boy dodging out of the way, when a hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her from the saddle.
She crashed hard into a pile of hay, flailing around until she got her bearings.
“You—!” she cried when she finally saw who her assailant was. Or should that be savior? Her heart still pounded in her chest.
“My lady, you should hold on tighter to the saddle.” Farron laughed.
“You are not funny!” She grabbed fistfuls of hay and began to throw it at him.
He threw up his hands in defense, only laughing harder.
“I could have gotten hurt, you know!” Steam rose in front of her eyes. She grabbed another handful of hay and chucked it at the elf. “Stop laughing!”
“You would have gotten hurt if I didn’t,” his laughter faded. “It seems my lady is missing a few riding lessons.”
Claire crossed her arms. He was right, though she wasn’t going to admit it. Deep down she was actually grateful to be off the horse. To be saved by him once again, well, that was another matter. How did he know where she was? In any case, her escape plan was blown.
She looked back over her shoulder. The stable boy had gone after the mare, who’d escaped out into the courtyard. The sound of hooves on stone echoed loudly. Soon the whole palace would know what she’d been up to.
“Why are you here?” She turned back to him.
He leaned back on his arms casually, though his expression was anything but. “To stop you.”
“I don’t think that’s any—”
“I know where you were going,” he said, sharply. “Or at least trying to go.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but then realized how obvious it was. To him, anyway.
“It could be a trap,” he said.
“It might not be.”
“Even so, there’s no guarantee that she’ll even be there, Claire.” He ran a hand over his head, his eyebrows drawing together. “Not only that, but there are still people out there looking for you. Have you forgotten about that?”
“I know!” It was her turn to be short. She hadn’t forgotten, but other worries had pushed it to the back of her mind. “I know… but I have to—” Her voice faltered.
“Have to what?”
“I have to try,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Maybe I could see her just one more time before I… run out of time.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Don’t say that.” His eyes fell to her right arm. “Why didn’t you tell me, Claire?” he asked, his voice soft. Hurt.
“Because it’s none of your concern anymore.” Anger started to brew inside of her. “Why are you even still here? I thought you’d have left by now.”
He flinched and then his mask slipped into place, cold, expressionless. “It’s nice to know how little you think of me.”
She sat up on her knees, hands clenched into fists. “Why did you have to go and do that anyway? Pledging to those men! That’s not—!” If he’d just left like she’d planned, then he wouldn’t be trapped in the Council’s grip. He would be free from them. From his brother. From her. She could feel her anger melt, turning into a deep sense of guilt. She collapsed back to the ground, the fight in her now gone, leaning forward on her hands, her head slumped low. “…what I wanted.”
“Claire—”
“You shouldn’t be here, Farron. I don’t want to be the person responsible for trapping you here.”
“Is that what you want? For me to leave?”
“Yes,” she lied. She looked at him, trying her best to control her expression. “As I’ve said, you aren’t responsible for me anymore.”
“You really want to get rid of me that badly?” He gave a short laugh, but it wasn’t happy. “So bad that you try to run away in the middle of the night, without any guards, knowing that there are people out there searching for you.”
When he said it like that, it did sound extreme. But still… “Let me go, Fare.” She played with a piece of hay to help distract her a bit. “Like I said, nothing good will come from being with me.”
“I can’t,” he said softly. “I still care for you, even if you push me away.”
Claire remained quiet. She really didn’t know what to say to that. Of course, she could lie, but she wasn’t sure she could make it sound convincing. Besides, she’d caused the elf enough heartbreak for one evening.
After a few moments, he said, “Let me see it.”
She straightened, knowing what he meant without asking. He looked at her steadily, his mask failing, worry showing through the cracks. “You’ve already—”
“Please, Claire.” There was too much sorrow in his voice for her to argue.
Slowly, she shrugged out of the small jacket. The night air was brisk against her bare arms. She held her right hand out to him. Even in the dim light, the mark showed dark, climbing past her elbow almost up to her shoulder.
He took her hand in his and circled his other hand around her arm, just below her elbow. For a few moments he just looked at it, quiet, his eyes following the lines, then he bent over it, low enough to press his forehead against her skin. “Why does it have to be you?” he whispered, so quietly
that she almost didn’t hear him. He peered up at her. “Is this why…?”
“Fare, please.” She withdrew her hand from his grip. Never before had she seen him so fragile. It made her heart crumble. But if it was this hard now, it would only grow harder in the future. He had to see that, didn’t he? “If I said yes, then what?”
He leaned back, a series of emotions playing across his face. A tiny spark of hope among them. A dangerous spark. One she had to quash.
“As strong as you are, not even you can help me with this.” She held her arm up in front of her.
And just like that, the spark faded. “I suppose you’re right.”
“In truth, I don’t think anyone can help me. You have to know that.”
“At least let me help, Claire,” he said. “I’m sorry about the attacks. Believe me when I say that I had no idea…”
“I know.”
“If I hadn’t left, then perhaps they wouldn’t have resorted to using those beasts.” She could hear the remorse in his voice.
“It’s not your fault, Farron,” she reassured him. “Not any more than it is mine.”
“But I do feel responsible for it. At least let me help make up for it. It’s better than me running away again.”
She studied him. He was going to come whether she liked it or not. He was as stubborn as she was, even more so at times. “Alright,” she relented. A part of her relaxed, knowing he would be there. Even if she couldn’t have him any longer, it was nice to know he would be safe, away from the Council. And it would be nice to see a familiar face, even if it was his. Not to mention he was as capable a guard as any the king or Council would give her…
He gave her a sad, almost hopeful, smile. “And to think you almost missed the ceremony tomorrow.”
That gave her pause. “What ceremony?”
“The one I was coming to tell you about when I noticed you missing from your room,” he said in a more serious tone. “They’re not going to send me off without a formal resignation of my soul.”
“Do you have to?” Again, guilt stabbed through her chest.
“It’s done, Claire,” he said, with finality, putting an end to that discussion. Though she still didn’t have to like it. “And you have to give both the king and the Council your word as well. They aren’t going to let you go so willingly. I wish you’d never agreed to anything with them or my brother. But I guess that hour has passed.” He sighed. All of a sudden he looked tired, worn. “We’re both in neck deep now, whether we like it or not.”
That, she knew, was the truth. A hard one even she didn’t want to accept.
Five guards knelt behind her. The most intimidating of which had an eye patch. Captain Hamza Bahadur, knelt next to her. He was rough around the edges, middle-aged, but could hold his own with men half that. At least, that was what she’d heard from the whisperings of the servants waiting just outside.
The sun was barely in the sky when Marla had awoken her. It was her last day as a free woman, or somewhat free, she should say. She hadn’t even bothered changing out of her clothes for the few hours’ sleep she was able to get. Then she’d been rushed down to the throne room, escorted by two palace guards, only having time to re-braid her hair. The whole palace, it seemed, had gathered outside the throne room, more curious than invited.
It was there that she’d met Captain Eye-Patch. “Let’s hope you’re tougher than you look, girl,” he’d said by way of greeting. He had dark looks, similar to Razi’s, but no accent.
Claire sighed. She liked this one already. Aeron’s light-hearted silliness was going to be sorely missed on this journey. He may have been exasperating at times, but he’d helped to take her mind off the more serious matters that had troubled her. She sensed no such relief from this man, however.
“Come,” he’d said, and they had entered the room together, the rest of the guards already inside. They stood on either side, falling in line behind them as they approached the dais.
People crowded onto the balconies at the rear of the room. Who they were, she couldn’t tell. Her eyes focused on the Council members standing to either side of the throne. In the light of day, they looked as feeble and harmless as any old men. But she knew better now. Wolves in sheep’s clothing, that’s what they were. King Líadan sat in the middle on his throne, looking as glorious as ever. But even in all his splendor, he hadn’t turned out to be any better than the men standing around him.
Her jaw clenched tighter the closer she drew. The sooner she was able to get away from here, the better.
A few feet from the platform, the Captain knelt. Claire followed suit, falling to one knee. And there she knelt while the soldiers swore their loyalty to king, country, and Council. She wondered, though, which side each of these men were really on. Something that only time would tell, surely. If they helped her to achieve her goal, then she supposed it really didn’t matter.
The talking had faded, and it took her a moment to realize that all eyes were now on her. She looked at the Captain, then to the king. What was she supposed to do now?
“I said rise, my lady,” demanded king Líadan. The annoyed tone in his voice meant he was still mad at her, for getting Farron involved in all this. Or simply that he didn’t like to repeat himself…
Slowly, Claire rose to her feet.
“Come,” said the king as he did the same, stopping at the top of the steps.
Claire tottered to the bottom of the dais and looked up at him. He looked too elegant too early in the morning, rested and refreshed, platinum blonde hair falling smoothly over his shoulders. She was sure dark circles showed under her eyes. The Council all wore matching white silk robes, but each had a different colored shawl draped around their necks.
At the end to the right, Claire spotted the old man she’d run into in the halls several weeks ago, looking as harmless as he had then, in his voluminous white and blue robes. She scanned their faces quickly, wondering which one the gruff voice from the Council Room belonged to. Not that she could do anything, but it would be nice to put a face to someone she hated. It made it easier.
“Do you so swear, before the eyes of the kingdom, your service, and loyalty, to me and the good men of this Council of the Twelve Kingdoms? To fulfill your task at all costs?”
Claire swallowed hard, peering up at the king. His face was cold and emotionless, waiting. The whole room grew quiet. What she wanted to do was run. Away from here, from the king, her responsibilities. The thought of swearing anything to these men frightened her to the core.
But it was the price she had to pay. “Y-yes,” she choked out.
The king then held his right hand out. A solid gold ring gleamed on his middle finger. He looked down at her, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
A little hesitant, Claire climbed the stairs, guessing what she had to do next and hoping she wasn’t just going to make a fool of herself in front of the whole palace. On the step below the king, she stopped and carefully took his hand and bent over it to lay a soft kiss on the ring. A beast strikingly similar to the Maelin she’d fought was embossed onto the surface, gripping a fern-like plant in one claw and a spear in the other, a pair of wings outstretched. She raised her head in time to catch the flash of satisfaction cross the king’s face.
She didn’t have time to ponder it because just then hushed whispers filled the room. King Líadan looked up past her and scowled. The members of the Council seemed to stir to life, a few of them smiling.
Dread filled her before she even looked, knowing who it was already. She released the king’s hand and slowly turned on the steps. Everyone’s focus was on the black-clad elf stalking towards the throne.
Dressed similarly to when he had left on his mission all those weeks ago, light armor, weapons and all, Farron looked every bit as intimidating as when they’d first set out from the forest. Perhaps even more so. It was his expression that scared her the most, though. He fixed his brother with a deadly stare, his mouth set in a hard line. She could almost see t
he hatred emanating off of him. Whether it was for the king or the Council, or perhaps both, she couldn’t tell.
The kneeling guards quickly rose to get out of the way as Farron drew near. None of them wanted to be in his way, and she couldn’t blame them. She even found herself taking a few steps back. The tension in the room grew so sharply, it was suffocating.
Farron stopped at the foot of the dais and knelt, his movements taut, careful.
Claire’s heart crumbled, knowing just how much this was costing him. After all these years, to finally submit to the men he despised the most, it was too much. And it was all because of her. A lump grew in her throat, making it hard to breathe. Why was he willing to go so far for her?
But as much as she wanted to scream out, to tell him to run, she wanted him to stay even more. It was selfish, she knew, but she needed him. The realization had hit her hard. He was the only person she had at the moment, and he’d been there for her when she’d needed someone the most.
“I am at your service, my lords,” Farron said, bowing his head.
A low chuckle sounded from behind her and echoed through the quiet room. “So, the Silver Dog has finally been tamed,” said a cool, low voice.
Claire turned sharply on the steps to look at the Councilmen. Each one wore a smug look of satisfaction. Finally, they’d gotten him. The king’s expression was less happy, however. Rage was veiled thinly behind his azure eyes.
Farron hadn’t moved and was quiet, but she knew the comment had been a blow to his pride.
“Now, my fellow lords,” said a man towards the middle in green. “This is an auspicious day.”
“Indeed. We have been looking forward to this day for quite some time,” said the Councilman in red. His back was hunched and he leaned heavily on a staff.
The Councilman in green stepped forward onto the step just below the king, and he was about to take another step down when Farron quickly drew one of his daggers. The old man paused and the whole room seemed to hold its breath. A few of the guards stepped forward, their hands on the hilts of their swords.