Lord Pierce scoffed, “Well, what else is adolescence but a time for wanton behaviors and mistakes. If we were to judge everyone based on the actions of their youth, I’d wager none would look favorably on you, Lord Adwyn.”
“So long as those mistakes won’t follow into your reign.” Lady Liola pinched her leathery lips together and patted her graying hair.
“I understand your concerns.” Silvano held his hands to the side in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “But I can assure you that exile had changed me in more ways than one. I truly have the best interests of our people at heart, and I am prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure a future for our people.”
Olielle smiled demurely. “I think you’ll find that our Miestryri has matured beyond his years, and he will prove to be the greatest leader Crystalmoor has ever known, but he can’t do it alone. I’m sure he would be grateful for whatever guidance you are generous to offer.”
“Hmm.” Lady Liola preened from the praise, then turned a skeptical eye one him. “In that case, perhaps I could stop by the castle so we could discuss some ideas I’ve had about—”
“That sounds wonderful,” Silvano said through a fake smile. “In fact, you should speak to the small council. I have the utmost confidence in their ability to solve whatever problem you have.”
“I should certainly hope so. There are so many injustices that must be righted immediately.” She pulled a scroll from her handbag and shoved it at his chest. “This is a list of grievances I’ve compiled against my neighbor. Not only has he installed the most abominable eyesore in his front lawn, but his vile children trampled my prized lavender. I demand recompense.”
“Flowers and a fountain? That’s what you’re upset about?” Silvano asked, exasperated. Olielle covered her mouth with her hand to cover her laughter, but nothing could hide the shaking of her shoulders. “Madam, we have very real problems in Crystalmoor that take priority over petty squabbles between neighbors.”
“Well, you could hardly expect the womenfolk to have a head for important matters, my boy!” Lord Pierce chuckled, and Lady Liola swelled like a bullfrog.
“Yes, yes.” Lord Adwyn handed a plate of prawn shells to the closest servant and dabbed his lips with a cloth napkin. “You gave quite a stirring little speech, but we both know there was little substance.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“All that bit about the disparity between the classes and whatnot.” He waved his hand in the air. “You were just giving the people what they wanted to hear. Cleverly done!”
“I can assure you it was genuine,” Silvano replied. He felt Lord Pierce’s appraising eyes on him.
Lord Adwyn spluttered. “But that’s preposterous. The disparity between the classes is what keeps our country strong.”
“And what keeps the coin flowing.”
“Exactly!” Lord Adwyn snapped his fingers, completely missing his sarcastic tone. “You need to understand that our way of doing things, from business to our social order, is perfect as it is. It’s the way things have been done for generations because it works. You’ll see I’m right.”
Silvano opened his mouth, ready to launch into a proper debate, but Olielle squeezed his arm and interrupted. “Thank you, gentleman, my lady. I think it’s time we mingled with some of the other guests now.”
Without another word, she led him away. Silvano didn’t relax until they were out of earshot, and then it felt as if his body was melting. “Well, that was a disaster.”
“Hardly.”
He gave her a side-eyed glance, baffled by her cheerful expression. “Did we just participate in the same conversation?”
She rolled her eyes. “If you’d been paying more attention to what wasn’t spoken to what was, you’d understand. Lord Pierce was quick to defend you against the others, and he despised your father, so he will be the easiest to win to our side. He’s halfway there already. Furthermore, he had an iron hammer pinned to his lapel, which means he recently entered into a trade agreement with Aravell. Find out what, exactly, and how you can help him. And did you notice Lord Adwyn’s doublet? It’s practically frayed through at the collar, and his boots are in desperate need of repair. Interesting, for a man of wealth, isn’t it? What you didn’t know is that a dozen of his combers were lost in a hurricane six months ago, and fewer workers are willing to work for him when they can collect sea glass for free and sell it themselves. He might not approve of you or your ideas, but perhaps he would be more open to the idea if you were to offer assistance.”
“Interesting,” Silvano said, already thinking of the ways he could use this information. He couldn’t force people to work for Lord Adwyn, but perhaps he could make it illegal to collect and sell sea glass without a permit. And Lord Pierce… what trade agreement could he have made? “And Lady Liola?”
“Is irrelevant. She likes to think herself important, but she’s already turned over the majority of her holdings to her son, Ambrose.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“And why is that?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “About five years ago, I had hosted a party on my pleasure yacht. Ambrose fell overboard, and I might have… left him behind.”
“Oh, Sil, you didn’t!”
“It was low tide,” he said defensively, “and it wasn’t my fault that he swims like a one-legged goose.”
Olielle closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I can only hope he has a short-term memory; otherwise, you’ll have a lot of work to do.”
As they approached the other group, Silvano saw a flash of black out of the corner of his eye. He did a double-take, and caught sight of someone familiar—Mikkal’s sister, Michelle. Guilt flooded his body as he remembered why Mikkal had been bribed in the first place. Visiting her should have been the first thing he’d done when Silvano returned to Crystalmoor. Well, late was better than never. He turned to Olielle and extracted his arm from hers. “Forgive me, but there’s something I need to do.”
“But—”
“Thank you for handling this in my absence,” he said, and hurried away before she could protest.
7
Wearing a nondescript cloak, Silvano weaved through the slums in the far reaches of East Rock. Small, stucco houses squatted together as if bracing against a hurricane. An occasional potted plant and brightly-colored doors and windows added a splash of color to the otherwise monochromatic palette, but not even a dozen layers of paint could mask the poverty he saw. A year ago, he wouldn’t have glanced twice at the suffering. Though he’d been a dreg all his life, he’d grown up pampered behind the castle walls, sheltered from the horrors of reality. But time and circumstance have a funny way of eroding rosy filters.
He forced himself to look, really look, at the crumpled bodies hunched on the road with empty tins at their feet. At the woman desperately trying to trade a strand of shells for three eggs. At a quick-fingered child who was lucky enough to pilfer a fish from a basket and ran off before he was caught.
How could his father have let things get so bad? He’d seen his share of poverty during his exile, but he’d always compartmentalized it as ‘other’, comparing it to the prosperity of Crystalmoor. What if things had always been this bad, and he’d just been too blind—too privileged—to see it?
And yet, the people didn’t seem downtrodden or broken by the hardships. There was a charge in the air, as if they were waiting for something to happen—expecting it, even. It felt like hope.
His stomach grumbled, and he realized he had missed the midday meal. When he’d caught a glimpse of Michelle at the top of the cliff, he’d been so preoccupied with seeing her that everything else faded into a background of unimportance. She deserved an explanation. It was his fault that Mikkal had left Crystalmoor in the first place, and it was his fault that she would likely never see him again.
The overpowering stench of human waste slapped him in the face, and his boot squished in something suspiciously soft and wet. Perhaps the small counci
l was onto something with their ambitious plans for indoor plumbing. He made a mental note to approve their plans at the next small council meeting. His cry of dismay at the state of his boots drew the attention of too many passersby, and he tugged down the hood over his forehead. It didn’t matter if he dressed like a peasant. If someone caught a glimpse of the sea glass, it would identify him immediately and cause… complications. Despite his best efforts, the majority of the lower-class had not been swayed by his demonstration and, if his suspicions were correct, still supported Arianna.
Footsteps thudded behind him, and he peeked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t followed. He let out a huff when he realized it was just a fisherman returning home from the docks, then chuckled at his own paranoia. It wasn’t like he was alone. His guards followed at distance, trying to be inconspicuous. Jax had insisted that they accompany him, though their presence was a threat in and of itself. If anyone recognized them, they’d wonder why the Miestryri’s personal guards were wandering the slums.
He walked up to the tiny hovel and knocked on the rotting wooden door. He frowned. Clearly, his father hadn’t held up his end of the bargain with Mikkal. Or maybe it had taken all twelve gold coins to pay the Healers for Mikaela?
In Tregydar, Opal had recognized Mikkal immediately from her visions, and as a result, he’d been forced to confess the true nature of Silvano’s banishment. He still couldn’t believe it was true. The day before he and Mikkal had left Crystalmoor, the Miestryri had approached Mikkal with an offer. Mikkal’s niece, Mikaela, had been deathly ill with a growth in her brain. Without Healing, it would have eventually claimed her life. In exchange for breaking his vow as a Shield and killing Silvano, the Miestryri would pay him twelve gold coins—enough to pay an entire team of Healers.
As hurt as he was over the betrayal, he wasn’t sure he would have made a different choice. If their roles were reversed and it were Lucinda…
Silvano swallowed. He’d had no idea how sick the girl was, or how desperate his Shield had been. If Mikkal had only told him, Silvano would have ensured they’d have enough resources to take care of the girl. No, he couldn’t blame Mikkal. The Shield had been bound by an oath of silence. The fault, in truth, lay with Silvano. He should have paid more attention instead of going out, partying and wasting his life away. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened. Then Mikkal would still be by his side, where he belonged. Instead, he was too caught up in cultivating his image and making plans for when he became Miestryri. It was his fault.
And he’d cast aside his Shield like refuse.
Somehow, he’d have to make it up to Michelle.
The door opened, and a woman with long, dark hair filled the doorway. She twisted a stained towel in her hands before brushing the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Michelle.”
“Can I help you?”
Silvano glanced over his shoulder at the near-empty street before pushing the hood back to reveal his face.
Her eyes widened, and she backed up a step, pressing a hand to her throat. “Miestryri,” she said, bowing her head—whether out of respect or simply so she didn’t have to meet his eyes, Silvano wasn’t sure. She glanced over his shoulder, her eyes darting around the street. “Is Mikkal…?”
“No, he’s not with me.” Silvano grimaced. He was so eager to speak with her, but now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say. “He’s… well, it’s a long story. May I come in?”
She hesitated for a moment, long enough to make him wonder if she would refuse him. Then she opened the door wider and stepped back so he could enter. “You may.”
He flashed her with what he hoped was a friendly smile, then stepped inside the one-room home. “I’m glad you could make it to my demonstration this morning.”
“I was looking for Mikkal. When I heard you had returned, I had hoped to see him again. But he never came for a visit.”
Silvano’s nose wrinkled at the dirt floor, the bucket of water in the corner, and a wood-burning stove that would provide heat and fuel for cooking. There were no decorations. No trinkets. Nothing that would suggest this barren room was a home. It wasn’t enough. How could she live in a place like this?
Michelle folded the towel and leaned over to set it down by the bucket, then seemed to think better of it. She straightened back up and started twisting the towel again. A thousand questions flitted through her eyes. “I’m surprised he isn’t with you.”
He glanced at her briefly before he continued taking in the sparse interior. The castle was well-furnished beyond anything he’d truly need. Perhaps he could send his men with proper beds and furniture, at least? It wouldn’t be much, but it would make their lives more comfortable. His eyes paused on the single pallet, shoved up against the wall. Only one? Belatedly, he realized that Michelle had asked him a question. “Hmm?”
“Mikkal. I thought he’d be with you.” Her knuckles tightened on the rag, and she refused to meet his gaze.
Silvano tugged at his collar and focused on the pallet, finding it equally as difficult to look at her. “Oh, yes. Well, he and I had a bit of a falling out.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “You know then. You know what he did.”
“Yes, I know.”
She reached a hand out and braced it against the wall to steady herself. Taking a few deep breaths, she closed her eyes as if to steel herself against the news. “Is he dead?”
“No.” Silvano debated if he should offer her comfort. She seemed so on edge that even the smallest contact might break her, but at the same time, all ships needed an anchor in a storm. Before he could talk himself out of it, he crossed the small room and took her hand in his. “I couldn’t. Not after everything we’d been through together.”
Her shoulders slumped, and Silvano could almost imagine the tension flooding out of her body. He felt guilty for getting her hopes up, but she deserved to know the truth. “He’s… I couldn’t let the betrayal go unpunished, so I banished him from my side.”
She tore her hand from his and pressed it against her mouth. Silvano marveled at her reaction. Surely she knew that the punishment for treason was death and mere banishment was a mercy.
“I’m sorry. Truly I am. I realize now that I may have… overreacted.” Silvano held his arms to the sides, hoping she would listen to him.
“Why are you telling me this?” Her face grew cold.
“I thought you should know what happened to him. Believe me, if I could go back and do things differently, I would.” And that was the truth. No matter what deals his Shield had made, Mikkal had stayed true to the end. If only it were possible to go back and retract his harsh words.
“If you’re looking for forgiveness, you won’t find it here. Mikkal gave up everything, his whole life, to protect you. He would have followed you anywhere.”
“I know… I—”
“Why are you here?”
He swallowed. “Mikkal told me why he did it. No matter what oaths he had to swear, his family would always come first to him. I understand that. Some might say that it made him weak, but I believe that bond made him stronger. When he took that deal, he knew that it meant his death, and he did it anyway. He was willing to die in order to save his niece. In order to protect you.”
He waited for her to say something, but she kept her lips pressed shut as she stared at him with judgmental eyes. His eyes darted to the single pallet again. “I had hoped to see Mikaela. To see how she is doing.”
Pain flashed across Michelle’s face. Then she deflated. She nodded slowly and said, “I’ll take you to see her.”
***
Silvano knelt beside a tiny grave outside the city. It was under a tree, next to a shallow stream that twisted playfully through the countryside. A pair of speckled warblers sang nearby. Michelle set down a potted daphne and a trowel. After they’d left her home, she insisted on visiting the market first to buy the sweet-scented flowers. When he’d asked again where Mikaela was, her demeanor had seem
ed evasive. Now he knew why.
Michelle knelt beside him, stroking the grass over the grave as tears trickled down her cheeks. “She was only nine, you know. So full of life, even as death came for her.”
His heart clenched painfully. Nine. The same age as Lucy. “I don’t understand. What about the Healers?”
She shook her head and picked up the trowel. She gently cut into the soil, heaping the dirt to the side. “Hours after you and Mikkal left, three of the Miestryri’s guards burst into our home and took the money Mikkal had given us. They said that Mikkal had stolen it, and they threatened to throw me in the dungeon as well. There was nothing I could do. I sold everything I could, but there was nothing left to pay the Healers. It wasn’t enough.”
Rage welled inside Silvano. It had been the perfect plan. His father would have told the people that Mikkal had gone rogue. Then, when Silvano’s body would have inevitably shown up, his father could have denied any involvement, blaming it on the actions of a single man. A dog turned on its master. His death wouldn’t have been traced to the Miestryri.
“She lived two more wonderful months before she went to sleep and never woke up again.” Her voice broke and she stared off into the distance.
Silvano carefully pried the trowel from Michelle and took over digging. “Why is she here? Why wasn’t she given to the sea?”
“Mikaela never felt the call of the sea. No, this was her favorite place. The sea is too violent and full of power, but her spirit was gentle. Since she was a baby, I would bring her here as much as I could and lay her on a blanket by the stream. She’d spend the whole day playing with the water if I let her. Then, she got sick. She tried so hard to be strong for me and hide the pain, but the sickness was a thief, stealing the light from her eyes. I brought her here one last time, the day she died. By then, she’d lost the ability to speak, and the shakes were so frequent I was afraid she’d hurt herself. But the moment I laid her by the stream… It was like her whole face filled with joy, as if it were the only time she felt truly alive. This is the only gift I can give her now.”
Miestryri Page 6