All these thoughts had been jumbled up in Tiberius’ mind, so he hadn’t thought of trying to discover exactly what was happening with Earl Marcus. He opened himself up slowly and felt nothing but coldness. The palace was drafty and not well heated. The fires burned coal, since wood was so scarce on the craggy mountaintop fortress. But the cold Tiberius felt was not simply a lack of heat; it was darkness, the presence of some foul entity that Tiberius could detect but couldn’t identify. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling the earl or something else.
“Perhaps tomorrow we can talk again,” the earl said, standing up suddenly.
“Of course,” Tiberius replied.
“Good. I have returned your belongings. My steward will show you back to your room.”
Tiberius bowed, hoping that the earl didn’t notice how tense he was or the hairs that were standing straight up on the back of his neck as he left the room. Tiberius stepped closer to the fire, suddenly feeling cold. Something was happening, but he had no idea what it was. Part of Tiberius wished they had never left the Hoskali. He suddenly missed the freedom he had to explore his magic and the laid-back lifestyle of the nomadic tribes, but he also felt a responsibility for what his brother was doing. King Aethel had not been a great king, but he was the rightful ruler of Valana, and Tiberius had no doubt that Leonosis had used some foul trick to worm his way into becoming king. Still, he didn’t know if he should risk his life trying to right his family’s wrongs or just find a place where he and Lexi could live out their lives in happiness.
The servant who had escorted Tiberius to meet the earl returned, and Tiberius gathered up his staff and Rafe’s long sword. Tiberius made sure there was no one in the long corridor, then he asked a delicate question.
“What have you noticed about your earl since he returned from Sparlan Citadel?” Tiberius asked.
“Many things,” the servant said in a conspiratorial voice. “He seems distant, angry, and refuses to eat in front of anyone. He was always a nervous man, concerned with providing for our people, but now he just seems angry. He no longer wrestles with decisions, shows no compassion for his family. Something happened in the capital, but he won’t speak of it.”
“Could it be that he resents being passed over for the kingship?” Tiberius asked.
“That might make him angry and sullen, but His Highness isn’t just resentful. He seems…” the servant lowered his voice to a whisper, “… changed. He was always a good man, but now he’s like a wolf. Nothing but cold hunger and ferocious power.”
Tiberius wasn’t sure what to say. He realized that the servant had just described the earl perfectly. But Tiberius found it strange that the earl’s steward would speak so strongly against his lord to what amounted to a perfect stranger. He couldn’t help but wonder if the entire meeting had been a ruse. Tiberius didn’t know what the earl hoped to achieve by such a display — perhaps a reason to keep from helping Tiberius or worse, to have him thrown in chains. The earl knew Tiberius was a wizard and he said that things were changing, but perhaps he’d been given instructions to help Ti reach Sparlan Citadel and was looking for an excuse to disobey that order. It had flabbergasted Tiberius that the earl had seemed so nonchalant about his use of magic. Could it be that the earl was trying to entrap him?
“Well, I’m sure that the earl has his reasons,” Tiberius said. “He seemed perfectly cordial to me.”
The steward looked at Tiberius with a strange look, but he didn’t speak. Instead he finished escorting Tiberius back to the room he was sharing with Rafe and Olyva. Once there, the steward took Tiberius’ arm.
“The earl has ordered me to prepare another room for you,” he said softly. “There are rooms deeper in the palace that are more appropriate for your station.”
“No,” Tiberius said. “I would prefer to stay with my friends.”
“I thought as much,” the steward said. “I’ll have the room next door prepared.”
“Thank you,” Tiberius said. “That’s very kind of you.”
The steward bowed and left. Most of the visitors had left Rafe’s room, as well. Only Olyva’s mother and one sister remained. Rafe was sitting at the table. Tiberius went to his friend and handed him the rapier.
“Thanks,” Rafe said, taking the weapon.
“How is she?” Tiberius asked.
“The same. I fear she’s waiting to die.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Tiberius said.
“It’s true. Her breathing is shallow, and her skin looks almost gray.”
“She just needs sunlight,” Tiberius said. “I’m sure of it.”
Rafe looked down, and Tiberius nudged his leg under the table. When Rafe looked up, Tiberius made a gesture with his hand. When they were children, they had come up with a way to communicate without words. It was a way to keep them entertained during the long, boring dinners where they were forced to sit and be silent for hours. It wasn’t a sophisticated system, and they only had a dozen or so gestures, but one was a way of communicating danger. They had settled on the gesture for danger just in case they ever needed to rise up and defend the city or Tiberius’ father. It had been just another of their games, and Tiberius hadn’t used the gestures in well over a decade, but Rafe saw the sign and looked up at Tiberius without saying a word. They didn’t need to speak to know that they were in trouble. Both men knew that coming to Hamill Keep had been a risk. Now Tiberius had confirmed it, and he knew that no matter what happened, his friend would be ready for it.
Chapter 28
Rafe
Tiberius had left without saying a word, leaving Rafe alone with Olyva, her mother and youngest sister. But what bothered Rafe the most was the sign of danger that Tiberius had made. Rafe had been busy answering Olyva’s mother’s questions all afternoon. He hadn’t even realized Tiberius was gone at first. Now, Tiberius had left again, leaving his friend with a simple warning that they had used as kids. When they’d first developed the language, they had grandiose plans of being heroes and saving the city of Avondale or even the entire kingdom. When they had gotten older, they’d used the danger sign to indicate that someone was angry, usually Leonosis or Brutas, and looking for someone to bully. But Rafe had no idea what Tiberius had meant this time.
He moved closer to the fire, which was really just an excuse to move closer to the door. Night fell slowly, the gloomy gray of the day slowly fading to night. Rafe lit a brass lamp that was set on the small table and cast a soft golden glow around the room. Olyva’s mother sat holding her hand until a servant came with food for Rafe.
“The earl is requesting your presence,” the young serving girl said to the older woman as she put the tray down on the table.
“Thank you,” Olyva’s mother said.
The young girl bowed and slipped back out of the room. Olyva’s mother looked at her younger daughter. The girl was only twelve or thirteen years old, but she took her mother’s place with a knowing look. Then Olyva’s mother stepped close to Rafe, who was sharpening his sword with long, steady strokes of a whetstone.
“Thank you for bringing my daughter home,” she said softly.
Rafe wasn’t sure what to say.
“No harm will come to you this night,” she said. “I promise.”
Rafe still didn’t know what to say, but the older woman didn’t wait for a response. She left quietly, and Rafe sat staring at the door for a long time. Eventually he heard weeping and turned to where Olyva lay, suddenly terrified that she had died. Her sister was crying, and Rafe went to her. He could see Olyva’s chest slowly rising with each breath. He laid a hand on her forehead, but she didn’t feel feverish.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
The girl wiped the tears from her cheeks and nodded.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” the girl said. “Haven’t you heard?”
“Heard what?”
The girl — her name was Desyra — told Rafe about the King and about Leonosis’ marriage to Princess Ariel.
Rafe sat in stunned silence when she explained that the earls had been unanimous in their support for Leonosis’ coronation.
“Your father told you this?” he asked.
“No, not Father. The shipmaster and his mates heard the news when they were resupplying in Spartan Citadel for the return voyage.”
“What did your father’s steward say about it?” Rafe asked, knowing from experience that the palace servants usually knew as much or more than anyone in the city.
“They didn’t say anything, because none of them returned,” the girl said.
At first, Rafe thought that perhaps the girl was just exaggerating. It wasn’t unusual for young people to blow things out of proportion. But the more she talked, the more he realized she was telling the truth. And Rafe knew that if Leonosis was now married to Princess Ariel, then odds were he knew about Tiberius and they wouldn’t be safe in any of the nine cities.
“Father isn’t well, that’s what Mother says, but he came back different. He scares me.”
“Nothing will happen to you,” Rafe said. “You’re the earl’s daughter. No one would dare lay a hand on you.”
“The earl would,” the girl said. “He looks at me as if I’m not even there. And he hurts our mother.”
The girl bowed her head and cried. Rafe wasn’t sure what to do and he wished that Tiberius was there so they could talk. He put his arm around Olyva’s sister, and the girl wept against his shoulder. Rafe’s only consolation was the hope that Tiberius was doing something. Rafe couldn’t imagine why his friend had left unless Tiberius had a plan for getting them out of the city safely.
“We should eat,” Rafe said.
“I’m not hungry,” the girl said.
“Eat anyway,” Rafe said. “When you’re facing trouble, it’s best to eat when you can and sleep when you can. You may not have a chance later.”
Rafe’s warning didn’t seem to help ease the girl’s fears, but she ate, and the food seemed to settle her down somewhat. She asked how Rafe had met Olyva and wanted details of their secret romance. He had expected people to wonder about their trek across the blighted lands, but Desyra didn’t care about that. She was much more interested in their romance, so he told her about showing Olyva the city walls in Avondale, then guarding her as she explored the markets around the city. Then he described their secret meetings. Stolen moments only long enough for a single kiss. Desyra was enthralled, but as the fire burned low, she grew sleepy and stretched out beside Olyva. When Rafe got up to look out the small window, Desyra fell asleep.
The night grew cold, and Rafe did his best to stay awake. He pulled the straw mattress from the narrow frame and made a bed for himself next to the door. He was relatively certain there would be nothing to worry about in the night — Olyva’s mother had promised him that much — but he preferred to be safe rather than sorry.
He stayed awake as long as he could, then lay down beside the door with his sword on the narrow mattress beside him. The next thing he knew, it was morning, and light was flooding into the room. The little window in their room had shutters; he’d locked them before going to sleep, but someone had thrown them open, and the room was very cold.
Rafe sat up and rubbed his face, and to his surprise he found Olyva standing up by the window, basking in the sunlight and oblivious to the cold. She wore nothing, and Rafe got quickly to his feet, his face flushing with embarrassment. Desyra was still asleep, huddled under the blankets that Olyva had cast off. Rafe grabbed one of his blankets and wrapped it around Olyva’s shoulders.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
“The sunlight, Rafe — it is so glorious.”
“Great, I’m happy for you. And I’m really glad you’re feeling better, but you really should put some clothes on.”
“I want to go outside,” Olyva said. “I want to drink up this glorious sunshine.”
“Okay, but we need to find you clothes first,” Rafe said.
“I thought the sun was glorious in the blighted lands, but this is so much better,” Olyva said. “The sunlight is so pure, so rich.”
“And you are so exposed, my love. Do you even know where we are?”
“No,” Olyva said, obviously unconcerned. “Where are we?”
“We’re in Hamill Keep,” Rafe said.
Olyva’s hands, which she had held out from her body, suddenly dropped. Her face, radiant and smiling, turned suddenly serious, and she looked around the small room. Her gaze came to rest on her sister.
“You haven’t been well,” Rafe said, finally letting the relief he felt seeing Olyva awake and recovering wash over him. He went to her and embraced her. “I thought we might lose you.”
“How long was I asleep?” she asked.
“Several days. I forget how many exactly.”
“How did we get here?”
“I carried you,” he said simply. “Tiberius is with us. Lexi stayed below with the horses.”
Olyva wrapped the blanket around her body, and Rafe thought she looked like an exotic queen, tall and proud. He began to wonder why he’d been so worried about the change she was experiencing from the Hosscum grove. She looked more beautiful than he even thought possible as the sun lit the edges of her dark hair so that they looked golden in the morning light.
“Why is Desyra with us?” Olyva asked.
“She stayed with you last night,” Rafe explained. “Your mother sat with you all afternoon. They’re worried about you.”
“My mother was here?” Olyva said. “Something must be wrong.”
“Look, I explained what happened. They seemed understanding to me.”
“No Rafe, you don’t get it. My mother has never nursed one of her own children. I would be willing to bet yesterday was the first time my mother has ever stepped foot in this room.”
“Seeing your child sick is difficult for anyone,” Rafe said. “Perhaps your mother—”
She cut him off. “You don’t understand. When I was Desyra’s age, I came down with spotted fever. I almost died, and my mother never came near me.”
“Spotted fever is contagious,” Rafe tried to explain.
“Unless you’ve had it before. My mother has, she just didn’t care.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Rafe said. “Some people just have trouble showing affection.”
“Trust me, I know my family. My mother wouldn’t be here just for me.”
Rafe wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to alarm Olyva and he didn’t know why Tiberius had warned him of danger, but he didn’t want to keep things from her.
“Well, I don’t know what is going on, but Tiberius warned me of danger.”
“What did he say?”
“That’s just it — he didn’t say anything. Yesterday was crazy. All your sisters showed up. And then your father sent for your mother, and she said nothing would happen to us last night. I don’t know what to think.”
“Why did you say that Tiberius warned you of danger?”
“He did. He flashed me a sign, sort of a gesture,” Rafe showed Olyva what he meant, making the sign with his hand. “When we were kids we made up secret signs so that we could communicate even when we were supposed to be seen and not heard. We haven’t used the signs in years. But he was gone yesterday — I’m not sure where. I was preoccupied with you and answering your mother’s questions. He didn’t stay here with us, but I’m not sure why.”
“Is he in trouble?”
That thought hadn’t even crossed Rafe’s mind. If the earl found out that Ti was a wizard, they could be in serious trouble. But Tiberius had brought Rafe his sword. He wasn’t under duress. It was more of a warning than a cry for help.
“I don’t think so,” Rafe said.
“We need to be ready for anything,” Olyva said. “Including getting out of the city. Where are my clothes?”
“The servants took them. It rained on us, and your clothes were wet. I undressed you and covered you with blankets. The servants said they w
ould return them.”
Olyva went over to Desyra and shook her sister gently. Desyra’s eyes opened, and for a moment she just looked annoyed. Then she realized that it was Olyva who was waking her up. The young girl squealed and hugged her sister.
“You’re better!”
“Of course I am,” Olyva said. “Rafe knew exactly how to help me. But I don’t have any clothes. Can you see if any of my old dresses are still around?”
“Cassandra took your clothes. She had them tailored, but you can probably still wear some. You’re taller now — you could even wear Mother’s gowns.”
“Don’t bother Mother right now,” Olyva said. “I want her to be surprised. But I need something to wear until she can see me.”
“Okay, I can get you something. Cassandra will still be sleeping anyway.”
Desyra hopped out of the bed and hurried to the door, where Rafe was picking up his bedding. Once he was out of the way, Desyra slipped out.
“Let’s hope she can find something without my sisters knowing I’m well.”
“Why?” Rafe asked.
“You didn’t have siblings, Rafe. You don’t know how hateful and competitive they can be. My sisters would be overjoyed to taunt the fact that I was exiled. And they wouldn’t think twice about reporting every move we make to my father in hopes that I might get into more trouble.”
Rafe sighed and looked down. He didn’t know what to do. They had come to Hamill Keep in hopes of finding help for Olyva, but now she no longer needed help. And they had planned to go to Sparlan Citadel in hopes of getting a pardon, but with Leonosis wearing the crown there was little chance of that. And, if Rafe was being honest, he didn’t know that he wanted a pardon. He couldn’t imagine going back to Avondale and standing watch on the walls day after day. He wanted more than that now. He just wasn’t sure what he really wanted in life, but he knew there was more to the world that just nine cities hidden behind tall walls.
“There’s more you need to know,” Rafe said, then went on to explain about Leonosis, Princess Ariel, and the king’s death.
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