by Jenny McKane
***
Avalon held her breath, listening intently at the door.
“She had a visitor today, you say?” Her father was saying.
“Yes,” said her mother. “A handsome young man. A Grey Guard, who she worked with in the Far North.”
There was silence for a moment, then her father resumed speaking. “I might try to speak to this young man,” he said. “Persuade him to marry her. Offer him enough money to make it worth his while. It is dangerous, letting her continue to go off, fighting. She may start to remember who she really is.”
Avalon’s eyes widened. What was he talking about?
“But we have raised her properly,” said her mother. “There cannot be any of the old memories in her. She was only a baby when you took her.”
Her father scoffed. “She is a warrior,” he said. “We could never stop that, no matter how hard we tried. You know that the old woman she was found with turned out to be one of their Queens, who were always great warriors. Perhaps she has it in her, as well? The more that she fights, the stronger it will become. And we cannot risk that.”
“No,” agreed her mother. She sighed, deeply. “I tried so hard! I brought her up as a Jarle girl. I tried to instill in her all the values.”
“I know you tried,” said her father. “I tried, too. But blood will win out in the end. She is a threat to the security of the whole realm if the memories return to her.” He took a deep breath. “I have been too lenient with her. It stops now. I will speak to her as soon as she gets back.”
Avalon could barely hear anymore through the loud beating of her heart. She turned and crept softly back down the hallway, still trying to make sense of what she had just heard.
It couldn’t be true, could it?
And yet, she knew that it was. It made sense—of everything. Why she had felt different all her life. Why she had struggled against them. They weren’t her parents. She wasn’t a Jarle at all.
But, who was she? And how could she ever hope to find out?
Chapter Fourteen
Avalon did not light the torch in her bedroom. She worked swiftly, grabbing items and stuffing them into her bag. Then she turned, quickly unlacing her gown. It fell to the floor, landing in a heap. She kicked it aside, then her fingers turned to the laces of the corset, trembling slightly.
Slow down, she told herself. Take a deep breath. Usually she had someone to help her out of a corset, if she was ever unlucky enough to have to wear one. Now, she had to twist her hands behind her, trying to unlace it herself. It was slow going, but she had no choice. She could not be wearing it when she got into the palace. She had to be able to move freely.
She held her breath, her fingers stilling. Was that footsteps coming down the hallway? Yes. She quickly scooped up her abandoned gown with one arm, and her bag with another. She flung them under the bed, then crawled under, peering out at the door.
It opened, just a fraction. She could see her father’s black boots, and behind him, the hem of her mother’s gown.
“No,” her father said, walking into the room. “She isn’t here. You thought you heard noise?”
Her mother walked in, as well. “Yes,” she replied. “But I must have been mistaken.” She crossed to the window, pulling the curtains closed. The little light that had pooled in the room from the moon was suddenly gone. All was dark.
“She is late,” said her father crisply. “Do you know where they went?”
“I did not even know they were going out,” said her mother. “You know she rarely tells me anything.” Her mother laughed, a little bitterly.
“She is too independent,” her father said. “But that is all going to change. We must clip her wings, once and for all.”
They left the room, closing the door behind them.
Avalon let out her breath and crawled out from under the bed. She had to get going. She could think about all of this later—when there was time. The revelation that she had been taken by her father, that they were not her parents…still shook her, but she put it firmly out of her mind.
She had to get out of this corset. She quickly twisted her hands behind, grabbing the laces, but it would not budge. She did not have time for this. She grabbed her dagger from her bag and swiftly cut the garment in one long movement. It broke in two, and she grabbed it, flinging it onto the bed.
There. She could breath, again. She quickly dressed, grabbing her bag. She stared down at the mutilated corset, lying on the bed. What should she do with it?
Avalon smiled. She would leave it, exactly where it was. They would come back in, at some stage, and see it there. They would know. The corset was almost symbolic –ripping apart the constrictions of her old life. Beginning anew. She kept staring at it, hate coursing through her. Yes, it represented everything that she had been fighting against, ever since she could remember.
They had tried to control her. They had tried to change her, but it had been doomed to failure. She had been born a warrior.
She opened the window. It wasn’t far down, and she had done this many times. A chill breeze floated around her. She jumped down, landing softly on the ground, and then she ran off into the night.
She did not look back.
***
Avalon crouched in bushes in Grey Park, opposite the palace. It was well lit; torches flickered everywhere. She could see guardians patrolling the walls, and high up, two on watch in the tower.
She closed her eyes for a moment, visualizing the way to the Control Room. She had made sure to memorize it when they had left it. She opened her eyes, then turned and hid her bag behind a shrub. Hopefully, if she succeeded, she could come back for it, and then make her way to wherever the prison camp was located.
She stood up, hiding her dagger underneath her top. She fingered her sword, safely sheathed by her side. She had dressed carefully in her official Grey Guard uniform. Her plan was to walk into the palace, pretending to be a regular palace guard on duty for the night. She had to act confidently for it to work. Hopefully, no one would question her, and she would be allowed access. Once she got in…well, she would have to figure that out.
She could be arrested immediately, of course. She had no idea what their protocol was, but she had weighed it up and decided it was a better chance than ambushing. There were simply too many guards on the perimeter of the palace for her to kill them all. The alarm would be raised immediately. She was only one against many.
Once inside, she knew that there would be less guards. She could handle them as they appeared.
She straightened, taking a deep breath. It was now or never.
She walked slowly to the side gate that the guardian had taken her to this morning. A guardian stood outside it, softly blowing into his hands to fend off the cold. He turned and looked at her as she approached, taking in her uniform.
Avalon smiled. “Hail Agnor,” she said, saluting.
“Hail Agnor,” replied the guardian. His eyes flicked over her. “Where are you going?”
“I am on duty inside,” she said casually. “Cold night, isn’t it? Are you stationed here all night?”
The man nodded. “Most of it,” he said slowly. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”
Avalon nodded, smiling. “Yes,” she said. “My first guard!” She turned to open the gate, but the guardian put his hand on her arm, stopping her.
“I will need to see your identification,” he said. “You should know that.”
Avalon laughed. “Of course,” she said, reaching into her pocket. “I am so nervous! I forgot.” She rummaged in her pocket. “Here it is.”
He studied the identification carefully. Then he opened the gate.
“Enjoy your first guard, Guardian Lund,” he said.
She smiled at him then walked swiftly into the grounds. Don’t look back, she told herself. She heard the gate closing behind her then let out the breath she hadn’t even known she had been holding. So far, so good.
It had worked that tim
e, but she knew that she couldn’t afford to be complacent. She had to move quickly. The guardian at the gate could talk to someone else and mention the new guard. Any of them might grow suspicious.
She walked into the palace, back into the foyer she had been taken to this morning. All was silent; torches lit the way at some points, but most of it was in darkness. She put her hand on the door to enter the ballroom, then stopped. She could hear movement inside. Agnor was entertaining. She would have to find another way.
She wandered down the dim hallway, trying to remember the path toward the Control Room. She hesitated for a moment. Agnor had led her through the ballroom, and they had come out of it through another door. Was it left, or was it right?
She turned right, swiftly walking down another hallway. She was sure this was the way.
Yes, she could see the doorway they had exited the ballroom approaching. Her heart sank. A guardian stood outside of it. He turned and looked at her, as she approached.
“Where are you going?” he said, staring at her. She could see his hand reach automatically to his sword, sheathed on his right side.
“I am on duty,” she said. “Near the Control Room.”
The guardian frowned. “There is already a guardian there,” he said. “And he is not due to be relieved on his post until the middle of the night. What is your name? I haven’t seen you before.”
Avalon smiled at him, her heart thudding. “No, I don’t suppose you have,” she said. “It is my first guard. Perhaps you have the times mixed up. I was told to be there at this time, and I am already late. Good night.” She went to walk past him, but he stopped her with an outstretched arm.
“I asked you your name,” he said. “Guardian.”
She took a deep breath. “Guardian Avalon Lund,” she said. “And I really must insist that you let me pass. I will be late, as I have said.”
His eyes flickered over her. “The Guardian Lund, who was commended this morning?” he said. “Why have you suddenly been assigned to sentry watch at the palace?” He stared at her, frowning again. Avalon watched as his hand reached for his sword. He was going to draw it.
She quickly grabbed her dagger, pressing the tip of it into his neck. “I wouldn’t do that,” she hissed.
He ignored her, continuing to draw out his sword. He pushed against her. She had no choice. She swiftly stabbed him in the stomach, dragging him backward as she did so. She could see a vacant room in darkness on the other side of the hallway. She dragged him to it, laying him carefully on the ground. Then, she bound his mouth.
He stared up at her, his eyes filled with hate. She could see blood seeping out of his stomach. He might live, or he might not. She didn’t have time to contemplate it. She walked out, swiftly closing the door behind her. She knew that she didn’t have much time now. The guard—if he lived—could crawl out of the room, or anyone could notice he was missing from his post.
She ran down the hallway, her heart thumping wildly. It looked different in the dark. She opened doors to rooms, frowning, before closing them again. They all looked the same. What was the way? She had to get to the narrow staircase that led to the bottom of the palace. That was where the Control Room was located.
She turned down another corridor. Yes, she was certain that this was the way. She could even see the top of the staircase in the distance.
She could hear far off noise from the ballroom. Musicians had started playing a traditional Agnorian song, one that she recognized from her days with the Grey Youth. She had once loved that song, and even now she couldn’t stop the words from playing in her head. The lyrics were about how the Jarle look after the Stromel, protecting them from harm. She shook her head, trying to dispel the tune. Lies. All lies.
She almost felt sorry for the guardians protecting the palace. They were just like she had been. They had been brainwashed from a young age and had no idea of the truth. She thought of Skyresh, telling her about a mighty spell that had been cast over them all to make them forget.
But some didn’t. Some remembered and were rising; they were determined to put a stop to this evil.
And then others—like the man and woman who claimed to be her parents—knew the truth. They were a part of the regime; that was obvious. They hadn’t been brainwashed. They knew that the Jarle had conquered this realm, and they had been a part of that conquest. They had been part of the regime that had slaughtered her real family, whoever they were. A deep sorrow filed her at that thought, but alongside that came an intense anger.
She would find out, she vowed. And she would avenge them.
She reached the top of the staircase. This was it. She drew her dagger, hiding it in her sleeve. She needed to be prepared for anything and to be able to act quickly.
Slowly, she climbed down the staircase into darkness.
***
Everard hadn’t left for Headquarters when he said farewell to Avalon that afternoon. Instead, he had wandered the streets of the city, lost in thought. He had a lot to think about. He wrestled with his conscience, trying to decide. Eventually, he had turned back, retracing his steps.
He walked up the road, leading to her house. It was the best part of the city. The houses were huge, looming into the sky. He had never imagined that people could live in such luxury.
Her house was at the end of the road and was—without a doubt—the most magnificent. It was three stories and surrounded by a large stone fence. He recalled how amazed he had been by the opulence when Avalon’s mother had led him inside. It was a far cry from the house that he had grown up in, out in the country.
He scaled the fence easily. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He only knew that he had to observe her. Despite what she said, he knew that she was deeply troubled. It wasn’t just exhaustion, as she claimed. Avalon was different.
He had crouched behind a large tree, gazing up at the house. She would be inside by now. What were her plans for the evening? She had claimed that she needed to rest.
He studied the house for a half hour, but there was little movement. He was just about to leave and head back to Headquarters when he heard a noise. Someone had jumped from a window, landing on the ground. He peered into the darkness, trying to see. The person got up and ran swiftly past him.
It was her. And she had changed. She was no longer wearing the grand dress that she had been earlier. Instead, she was dressed in her Grey Guard uniform, and she carried a small bag on her back.
Everard felt his blood run cold. What was she doing? He knew that she wasn’t setting off on a new mission, and even if she had been, why would she climb out a window and sneak off?
He followed her at a safe distance. She wove through the city streets, never once glancing back. She moved quickly, so quickly, at some points, that he thought he had lost her, once or twice, but then, he would see her again. She finally entered Grey Park on the side wall of the palace.
She crouched in the shrubs, staring at the palace. He watched her hide her bag and secure her dagger. Then, she turned and strolled toward a side gate, approaching the guardian.
Everard held his breath. The guardian talked to her for a moment, then let her into the palace, shutting the gate firmly behind her.
Whatever she was doing, it was not authorized. He knew that. She was pretending that she had access, and it had worked so far. But for what purpose? Why was she intent on getting into the palace?
His fists clenched into balls of frustration. He should have made her tell him what was wrong with her. He had known that she was different. Perhaps he could have dissuaded her from doing this. Because it was obvious, now, that Avalon was planning some treachery against the realm. There could be no other explanation for why she had done this.
It made no sense. Avalon was one of the most loyal and devout people that he had ever met. She had been unswerving in her faithfulness, almost parroting the Grey Book. Her passion to become a Grey Guard had matched his own. Something had happened to her, and he suspected that whate
ver it was, the rebel group that had captured her had something to do with it.
He recalled her reluctance to talk about them, and particularly about the leader, Gwalen. And yet, she had led them all into a trap quite successfully. She had done her duty and been commended for it. Why had she decided to suddenly become a traitor?
Everard felt like punching his fist into the tree. Impotent tears of rage sprang into his eyes. He loved her. He had wanted to marry her, and now she had signed her own death sentence. There was no way that she would be able to get out of this alive. The palace was teeming with guardians, and she was acting alone. One warrior against an army of them.
What was he going to do?
Taking a deep breath, Everard stood up. He couldn’t let her walk to her death, without attempting to stop it. He would have to get in himself, find her, and try to talk her out of whatever madness she was planning. Appeal to her loyalty to the realm. It must still be there, somewhere, deep inside of her. She just needed reminding of it.
Perhaps, they could get out, and no one would ever be the wiser. He knew that it was a long shot, but what choice did he have? It was either this—or walk away and leave her to her fate. They would be merciless. He knew what happened to traitors, especially Jarle traitors. They were treated worse than captured rebels.
The woman he had fallen in love with was still there, inside her. He just knew it.
He walked slowly to the entrance, his heart thudding.
***
Avalon reached the bottom of the staircase and pushed open the door to the Control Room.
It was still. The flames from two torches flickered on a wall, casting shadows over the long table in the middle of the room. Today, when she had come in here with Agnor, it had been teeming with people. Now, there was no one. She frowned. She knew that there should be at least one guardian down here. It was an important place, after all. The heart of the palace, as Agnor had said.
Where was the guardian?