by Sam Farren
“They have an army,” I pointed out.
“What of it? I have slain dragons; people in plate armour present me with no cause for concern.”
“They have Akela.”
“—then perhaps we shall run all the way across the border.”
I laughed and Claire's arms dropped from around my waist, any disappointment negated when her hands found my hips. She was not yet smiling, but her face had softened, and there was nothing in the world I wanted to think about, other than the fact that she meant what she'd just said so deeply that nothing could've given me reason to doubt her.
I thought I might have the courage to bow my head and kiss her, but the sound of boots against the stone floor caused me to move faster than I ever had in my life.
Akela hadn't claimed the nap she deserved. She marched into the stables, axe at her hip, and she was so far from smiling that it was like looking at a stranger. There were guards behind her, half a dozen of them, and though they didn't have their weapons drawn, their fingers were twitching with anticipation.
“Northwood. Ightham. You are here all along, yes?”
Her eyes fixed on Claire. Barely any time had passed since she'd last seen me, and it was Claire who was really drawing her suspicion.
“We have,” Claire answered, not rising to her feet.
“I will give you this chance, because I am liking you both. And I am thinking you are both very smart, yes? You are coming with me, and you are not saying a word,” Akela said, “We are going inside the castle, and we are talking. Understand?”
I nodded my head more than I needed to, but Claire chose to push her luck.
“We're talking now, aren't we? Call off your guards, take a seat, and we can have all the conversation you desire. As you might well have noticed, neither of us are armed. You have us at a disadvantage.”
“I am not asking again, Ightham,” Akela said, and the guards stepped forward in unison.
Only then did Claire stand, putting a hand out in front of me, drawing the guards' attention towards herself. Charley whinnied, earning grunts from other horses, and Calais tried to move towards Claire, causing the door of his pen to rattle. One of the guards turned towards him, but Claire raised her hand, making him obediently back down.
“Tell me, Akela,” Claire said in a low, even voice, stepping towards her. “Whatever misunderstanding has arisen, I assure you, we can clear it up between the three of us. There is no need for this.”
Finally pushed far enough, I caught Akela's eye and realised it wasn't anger burning there. It was something else, something familiar; something I'd seen time and time again in the apothecary’s, when I hadn't been allowed to act quickly enough.
“King Jonas, he is murdered,” Akela hissed through grit teeth, “And you are coming with me, Ightham.”
PART III
CHAPTER XVIII
Akela punctuated each sentence by crashing her fists against the table in front of us, causing me to start in my seat every time. Claire didn't blink, let alone flinch. She was convinced of her own innocence, and felt no need to prove it to anyone. She answered all of Akela's questions as briefly as she could, arms folded across her chest as she leant back in her chair.
The room Akela had taken us to was the least welcoming one in the castle. The low ceiling made her seem taller and closer, and the window, despite barely being big enough to look out of, had an iron bar running through the centre. The one table in the room slanted to the side, and the chairs we sat on were less comfortable than the bare stone floor beneath us.
“Ightham, you are stopping this. No more saying yes or no. I am needing you to explain things,” Akela said, so frustrated that I didn't understand how Claire hadn't found herself locked in a cell, key thrown into the moat.
“I should hardly think you need me to repeat myself again,” Claire said, looking up at Akela indignantly. “I've told you all you've requested. Must we go over it again? Do you really believe Rowan or I murdered your King? You – we – ought to be out there, aiding with the investigation.”
“No—” Both of Akela's hands slammed flat against the table, causing it to rattle on uneven legs. She leant forward, baring her teeth at Claire. “I am not thinking that you are responsible, or that Northwood is capable of doing such a thing. But you are both from Felheim, yes? You are outsiders. The only ones in the castle! Queen Kidira, she is asking me to question you, and she is not asking me to be as patient or restrained as I am. But I am liking you both, yes? And if I am clearing you, then Queen Kidira, I know that she is trusting me. This is okay, Ightham?”
If it were up to me, we would've poured out every ounce of information Akela could possibly need, but Claire realised that it still wouldn't be enough. Akela was shaken. She'd lost one of her Kings, a man she'd worked closely with for a decade, and instead of mourning, there she was, interrogating us. Her questions had not been kind, but I didn't hold them against her.
“For the last time, Commander: Rowan was not out of your sight for more than half an hour. The stable-hands saw her enter, and they neither saw her leave nor re-enter, before you came to take us away. As for myself, I was with the Kings until an hour prior, and the stable-hands can corroborate the fact that I did not once leave,” Claire said, finally giving Akela an inch. “There is but one way out of the stables, and no shortage of guards, nobles and servants in the surrounding area. We would've been seen. What's more, if one of us was responsible, we would've had to change our clothing.”
Akela's fingers curled, nails scraping across the tabletop.
“But—”
She didn't want it to be us, nor did she want to take an easy way out; she simply wanted to know who had assassinated King Jonas, and I could sympathise with that.
Exhaling sharply, Claire stood up. Akela moved in a flash, reaching for the axe hanging from her belt, but Claire held her hands in front of her, reminding Akela that she was no threat; she was unarmed. We'd been searched for blades before had Akela sent the guards out of the room.
Akela didn't move her hand from her hip. Nor did she wrap her fingers around her axe. Slowly, Claire placed a hand on her shoulder, gripping it tightly.
“We will find who is responsible, Akela. Make no mistake of that. But you are wasting your time here,” Claire said firmly. “I have dealt with assassinations in the past. I was a bodyguard before I was a Knight, and a soldier before that. Let me help. Tell Queen Kidira that we pose no threat to her.”
Akela's gaze darted across the room, focus as scattered as her thoughts. She was on the verge of saying something when the door thundered open. It'd been locked from the outside, and the latch scraped against metal as it was near-enough knocked off its hinges.
Akela had been about to agree with Claire, but all that was forgotten.
“I am saying we are not to be disturbed,” she snapped, ready to draw her axe, but Kouris ducked through the doorway. Her horns scraped against the ceiling though her back was arched.
“... ah.”
Akela's hands bundled into fists and she tilted her chin upwards, meeting Kouris' gaze.
“Out,” Kouris said. “It wasn't them.”
“Queen Kidira, she is ordering me to—”
“Out! I am ordering you as Queen Kouris to get out,” Kouris roared, stomping towards Akela. I'd little doubt that Akela had never come closer to flinching in her life. “If Kidira's having a problem with that, tell her to come speak with me herself.”
Whether Akela recognised Kouris' authority or not was beyond the point; she was no fool. Stepping back, she held Kouris' gaze for longer than most would, wanting to believe that she was right. We were innocent, and she'd done all she could to ensure that. She wasn't letting murderers walk free. With a curt bow of her head, Akela left the room. The door rattled in its frame behind her, left unlocked.
None of us spoke, but something other than silence pooled between us. I could see Kouris trembling, could hear her ragged breathing, and beyond the chamber with
its steel-plated door, I could feel the rush of death swarming through the corridors, creating a trail from King Jonas' body, reaching out to me. How close did I need to be? My head was pounding, dragging me out of the room, out of reality, and I tried to run my fingers through the mist choking the castle without moving an inch.
Kouris stopped me from drifting too far. Her voiceless ache became a growl, and she threw her fists against the wall, horns scraping against stone as she tried to bring the whole castle down. Claire reacted faster than I could. Kouris' stature was never more evident than when she couldn't keep herself still, but Claire was far from concerned for her own safety.
She seized hold of Kouris' arm, fist on its way to the wall, and Kouris snarled, trying to throw her off. Grip tight, Claire pulled Kouris towards her and forced her to bow, putting them at the same level. They stared at one another, and Claire held Kouris' gaze, in spite of all the fangs bared at her.
“Kouris,” Claire said, “Kouris, I am sorry.”
“Weeks. I'm back here for weeks,” came Kouris' rumble of a reply, “And look what's happening. Should've never come back.”
“This has nothing to do with your return, Kouris. Do not blame yourself. It's good that you were here, in the weeks before his death.”
“Before his murder,” Kouris said, but she said it without any bite, as though Claire's words had been of some small comfort to her. “... always got the feeling Jonas would be outliving all of us. Even me. He always had everything sorted, even back before Kastelir was founded. The Old West, it was the closest thing to a functioning territory in its own right, and now... killed in his own castle. So much for any of that meaning a damn thing.”
Kouris stopped thrashing and growling, but I didn't put my arms around her, didn't offer any condolences. The way Claire and Kouris spoke to one another and the looks they shared put me beyond their understanding of the situation. The finality of their every word was misplaced, and the permanence with which they spoke was lost on me.
King Jonas was dead, but he didn't have to stay that way. It'd take a thought, only a thought, and I could drive death from him, as if striking a bargain I'd never have to fulfil. Under my breath, I murmured, “I could—” not meaning to be heard. Needing to remind myself of my power, more than anything.
Kouris and Claire turned, towering over me. I stepped back, bumping into the table, and they stared at me as though it was too late. I began to wonder if there was light crackling between my fingers, if King Jonas had risen in the corridors beyond.
“No,” Claire said bluntly. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” I protested. “I could bring him back! It wouldn't even be hard. I could bring him back and Kouris wouldn't have to be upset. And neither would King Atthis or Queen Kidira or Akela, or the rest of the country! We'd be able to ask King Jonas who killed him, and there'd be no worrying about what would happen to Kastelir, or who was going to take over, and...”
“No,” Kouris said. “Your heart's in the right place, yrval, it really is, but you're only going to be causing more problems than you're fixing. I want to see Jonas up on his feet, I truly do, but it's not going to be so easy as all that. There'll be no use in it all if we're only trading his life for yours.”
Trading my life for his. Did Kouris really believe that Queen Kidira would look upon what I'd done and demand I burn for it, even if King Jonas was returned to her?
“News of King Jonas' assassination won't remain contained to the castle. If half of Isin doesn't already know, then they will within minutes,” Claire continued. They were both adamant, talking down to me as though I didn't understand the consequences of my own powers. “Dozens have seen the body, and healers would've tried all they could to save him. There would be no doing this without anyone finding out, Rowan. Do you believe that Kastelir would accept a King raised from the dead? If Queen Kidira did not call for your capture, Kastelir would.”
Kouris narrowed her gaze at Claire, but as hard as her words were, they still didn't reach me. So what if they felt justified in King Jonas' continued death; so what if they were only trying to protect me? The fact remained that there was an easy solution to the problem presented, and they were both acting as though keeping me locked away was the only thing for it.
I looked at Claire, and then at the ground.
“But you said...”
She sucked in a deep breath, jaw clamped shut in Kouris' presence. Kouris' gaze shot between me and Claire, and bemusement gave way to understanding. Taking a wide step back, she gave Claire the space to draw closer. She tried to catch my eye, but my gaze slid back and forth like a pendulum whenever she moved.
“... as a last resort, Rowan. There is no need to put yourself in that sort of danger, unless there is absolutely nothing more we can do,” Claire said in a low voice, hand on my face. Still, I looked away from her. “Please, Rowan. Don't throw away all you've earnt for yourself since leaving your village. Let the King remain dead.”
I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, keeping hold of it when I only meant to move her hand away. The way they pleaded convinced me that my powers were beyond my control, and that even if I wanted to ensure King Jonas stayed dead, he'd rise up by virtue of me knowing he'd been murdered. My shoulders rose and I let go of Claire's wrist, clasping my hands together in an attempt to hold something back.
“Right. You're right, I won't do anything,” I said, knowing I couldn't ask Claire to leave Kastelir behind, now that she'd come this far. “I'm sorry. It's just not fair, and I wanted to be able to help, for once. I didn't speak to King Jonas very much, but he was really nice to me when he didn't have to be. Didn't even have to look at me.”
Claire gave me a smile that made me believe I'd be able to rein my powers in, no matter what, and dropped her hand as Kouris returned to the conversation. She stood before me for one reason, and one reason alone: because necromancy had saved her. Kouris understood why I wanted to bring King Jonas back. She didn't scorn necromancy in and of itself, but since returning to Asar, she'd told only me the truth, and for good reason.
They might think more of her in Canth, for having been brought back by a necromancer, but in Kastelir, they'd treat her like a shadow of herself.
“Suppose we'd better be getting to the bottom of this,” Kouris said, heaving a sigh. There were no chairs big enough to support her, and her legs were no longer up to the task. She sat down with a thud they probably heard on the levels below.
I moved to her side, putting my palms on the curve of her horns, checking for scuffs. There were scratches along the grooves of her horns, but they felt as though they'd been there for an age.
“It's alright, yrval. They might not be as tough as dragon-bone, but they're not far off,” Kouris said, and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Reckon the wall's in a sorrier state.”
I let her pull me against her chest, wrapping my arms as far as they'd go around her waist. Kouris tilted her head back against the wall, grey eyes closing, urgency seeping out of her, making room for misery. I couldn't take her in my arms, couldn't let her hide from the world by burying her face in my neck, but I could curl up against her chest, letting her know I was there.
“Do you think you might...” Claire began, trailing off. I heard her boots clip the stone floor, and when I looked up, saw that she'd sat next to Kouris. “The faster we act, the better a chance we have of getting justice for King Jonas. I know little, beyond the fact that he was assassinated. Is there anything more you can tell me?”
Kouris took her time answering. It was wise to get all the information possible out of her while the memories were fresh, but it didn't feel kind. Ear to her chest, I heard her heart beating out of time and over itself, leaving me confused until I realised there were two separate rhythms belonging to twin hearts.
“After meeting with you, Jonas went to deal with some agriculture matters, in the Old West. It's routine, as far as I can be telling. He meets with a couple of representatives, over on the second level. Th
ere were guards stationed at either end of the corridor, but it curves at a weird angle and there's some kind of blind-spot. Reckon he wouldn't have been out of sight for more than a few seconds. But, aye. That was enough.”
“And the murder weapon?”
“Some kind of dagger, most likely. Nothing left behind, though.”
Claire took her time digesting the information, more for Kouris' sake than her own, but mulling the facts over in silence wasn't going to help anyone. Once she was standing, she offered Kouris her hand. Kouris took it, though she needed no help getting to her feet.
“Shouldn't have been snapping at the Commander like that,” Kouris said. “Come on. Let's be making ourselves useful, then.”
Kouris and Claire both hesitated, fixing their eyes on me.
“I'll be fine,” I said, “Promise.”
I cut between them, opening the hefty door and ushering them out. I had no intention of bringing King Jonas back, but I wasn't going to let them shepherd me to my room, where I'd be of no help to anyone. I was convinced I'd understand what I was seeing better than them. I'd be able to read the body in ways no one else could.
The castle beyond was not the one I'd become accustomed to. Nobody was going about their own business, anymore. Word spread and there was only one thing on anyone's mind, guards, servants and nobles alike. They poured from their chambers, leaving their posts, filling every corridor and courtyard. The King was dead, that much they knew, but every group we passed had their own ideas about how it had happened.
An arrow had flown through an open window and struck him in the chest; someone had heard that there were Canthians in the city, a few days back, and anyone from across the Uncharted Sea was a grim omen in and of themselves; one of the King's guards had betrayed him; but no, no, it was an outsider, someone from Agados or Felheim.
The one thing they agreed on was that the assailant was still within the castle. Bells chimed from a far tower, either out of respect or as a warning, and with all the chaos sown throughout the castle, we had no trouble getting to the floor King Jonas had been murdered on. Nobody could agree where it took place, and so the guards weren't stopping people from coming to their own conclusions and heading in the wrong direction.