by Katy Haye
“Hmm.” Father turned away, striding to the window and staring out, deep in thought. I wanted to speak again, to layer more arguments on top of those I’d already made, but I knew well enough to hold my tongue. If Father was to change his mind, he’d want to be able to convince himself that he’d made the decision. To be persuaded by a woman would make him appear weak in his own eyes.
I held my breath and waited.
“I can see this is something you feel strongly about, daughter,” he said at last, turning back, his boots creaking as he crossed the polished floor.
I kept my gaze on the floor, my eyes respectfully lowered. “It is, Father.”
“Justice is something that I feel strongly about.”
Because I was looking down, I got almost no notice of his action, the sudden shift of air my only warning before he’d grabbed me by the throat, walking me back until my spine hit the wall and I could go no further. “As is obedience,” he hissed, eyes glinting fury. “How dare you question a punishment I have given? What does the Surran scum mean to you? This is the second time you’ve begged on his behalf. You’re obsessed with the boy. Was my dragonette all he took when he was in the palace?” His contorted face was so close to mine spittle landed on my cheek as he spoke. “Did he steal your virtue, too?”
I gasped, although even as my heart beat in fear I felt my skin flushing with the memory of Lyo’s kiss. But a kiss was a different matter to what Father was suggesting.
“Well?”
He actually needed an answer. “No, he didn’t. I will be a virgin on my wedding day,” I promised, my voice half-choked by his grip as well as my roiling emotions.
Tears cascaded down my cheeks. I had come to state my case, hoping my father would treat me as a queen. He’d treated me like a queen, all right – like his own wife, who was ignored and humiliated. I’d said I was here to argue my case – Lyo’s case – and not to beg, but begging was all I was left with.
“Please, Father, let the boy go. I swear, I’ll bring honour to Muirland, I’ll be the most devoted wife King Zalar could possibly want, if you’ll only set him free.”
The slap my father gave me sent me crashing to the floor.
“How dare you, girl?” he roared. I curled into a ball, but although his hands clenched reflexively, he didn’t strike again. “I don’t need to give you a gift to ensure you’ll play your part. You will do so because I command it, and because your husband will beat insolence out of you. He’ll break you like a horse if you don’t bend to his will, and I wish him good fortune in the endeavour.”
He was panting as he glared down at me. “The boy deserves death, as do you, girl.” I went cold. His face changed as he glared at me and understanding flooded through me. He knew it was me who’d taken the dragonette. I didn’t know how, but he knew I was behind it. “You deserve no gift, and refugees will see what happens when they bite the hand that feeds them.” He shifted his weight and again I curled away from him, afraid of a blow. But he simply turned his back and strode from the room.
It was five minutes before I stopped shaking enough to stand up.
~
“What is the matter with you?” my mother hissed. “Why would you argue with your father? You cannot possibly win.”
My lungs squeezed. “I will soon be a queen. I want my people to remember me for kindness, not bloodshed.”
I hadn’t thought my mother would understand, and I’d been right. She pushed me away. “Fah! Your people won’t remember you at all. As soon as you leave our borders you’ll be nothing. Everything will depend on your new husband. You must be a good wife for him.”
Heat rose in me. A good wife, like my mother had been a good wife to my father – who walked all over her in thanks. “I shall be a good wife if he is a good husband,” I told her.
“Why do you fight?” Her eyes sparked, glowing with fury. “Why must you always fight, daughter? Even when Mage Redmor—”
“You mean when you told Mage Redmor to enchant me, to remove my spirit and make me as feeble as you, Mother?” Her jaw slackened. I wanted to laugh, but I was too angry for that. “Don’t worry – I’m well aware of what you and the mage tried to do. What a shame that it didn’t work – a shame for you, I mean!”
She advanced on me, walking me back until the back of my knees hit the bed. I tried to stay on my feet, but with Mother leaning over me I had no option. “Where does this rebelliousness come from?” she hissed.
I didn’t think she wanted a reply, but I gave her one. “Maybe it comes from my magic. Resisting Mage Redmor’s magic was easy, because his magic is weak.” I looked my mother in the eye. She knew my secret. Or had she forgotten? Would she denounce me if I reminded her? At that moment, I hated her so much I didn’t care. “Whereas mine is strong.”
“No, daughter.” She shook her head, eyes squeezed shut as though the sight of me pained her. Her voice hushed. “You’re a fool.” Her eyes flashed open once more. “You must be biddable.” She slumped, grabbing at my bedpost to hold herself upright. It was as though her anger had burned out, and there was nothing else left, nothing to keep her going.
I still had enough anger for both of us. “Why? What use is it to be biddable and obedient? What good has it done you all these years?”
She surged to her feet. “It’s kept me alive! You’re going to marry the Surran king who has already killed one wife. You must stay safe. Don’t give him any reason to hurt you.”
Him hurt me? She had a nerve, when she’d allowed Mage Redmor to perform magic on me, when she’d forced me to wear a bracelet that had helped him. And before that – throughout my childhood she’d never held back a beating whenever I’d challenged her rules. “What do you care?”
“Because I couldn’t bear it!” Tears welled in her eyes, brimming over and slipping down her flawless cheeks. She grabbed my hand, clutching it between both of hers. “I only ever did what I thought was best. I only ever wanted to keep you safe, and now you’re going to Surran and I won’t be able to help you there.” She sobbed again, then bit back her emotion. “I’m afraid of what will happen to you when I can’t protect you.”
“Protect me? You’ve never protected me.” Injustice burned in me. All through my childhood, my mother had been the worst, always first with a slap, or to send me out of her presence when I displeased her. Was she really going to claim that she cared now?
She shook her head, her eyes full of pain. “I’ve always protected you, Relle.”
I tried to yank my hand from her grasp, but she held tighter. “Wait. Where is your bracelet?”
“I took it off.”
She felt up my arm for something that wasn’t there. “You must wear it at all times, it will hide your magic. It will protect you.”
“I don’t want to be protected, not your kind of protected if it means I must live half a life.”
“Half a life is better than none! Don’t you see that, Relle?”
“No! I don’t see that. I’d rather be dead than condemned to the kind of life you have!”
She went pale, as though I’d struck her. “I did it to protect you.” She looked up and a little of her customary fire showed in her eyes. My stomach lurched, glad to see it. “I sacrificed everything to keep you and Jaran safe. If I could see that your father was becoming angry with you, I’d send you to your room before he could act. If I slapped you, it was because I knew my blows would be softer than his.”
“You hit me to protect me?”
“I only ever wanted to keep you safe.” Her face held an expression of such tenderness my heart tore. I wrenched my gaze away. I didn’t want to soften. She’d spent my whole life beating any kind of tenderness out of me, she shouldn’t be surprised when I had none to spare now.
“Why didn’t you teach me to fight?” I shook my head impatiently. Mother couldn’t teach me to do something she was incapable of herself. “Why didn’t you let me fight back? I would have found my own way.”
“I didn’t want you
to fight. If you fight, you give them an excuse to break you, and I couldn’t bear that.”
“You nearly broke me, Mother.”
“I’m sorry. I had to stop you fighting. You had to learn.” Her expression was sad, even though the tears had dried. “You can’t win, not when men like your father have stacked everything in their favour.”
“I can’t win if I give up,” I told her.
“No! You must learn to bend. That’s what I was trying to teach you. Bend, before you are broken, the way they broke me.” Her voice broke on a sob.
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
“Swear to me, Relle. Swear you’ll be a good, biddable wife.”
Tears burned in my eyes, because what other option did I have? My shoulders sagged. “Of course, Mother. King Zalar will have no cause for complaint.”
“Good girl. And you must wear your bracelet, especially when any of the mages are around. It will subdue your magic. There will be nothing for anyone to find.”
I understood her intention, but suppressing my magic was her desire, not mine. I was just starting to appreciate how much I valued it. A lie slipped out easily. “I will, Mother.”
Thinking I’d relented, she wrapped her arms around me. I breathed in Mother’s scent and tried to relax. It was the first time I could ever remember my mother touching me with kindness.
A shame it was years too late.
She left me alone, but I knew there would be a guard at my door. I was trapped, always trapped.
I stood beside my windows and stared at the view into the forest. On the far horizon I could make out the shape of the Firethorn Mountains. With Lyo imprisoned, would the dragonette ever reach them? My fists clenched. I remembered his demand that I not marry the Surran king. I remembered as well the offer he’d made: that his sister would help me escape my fate.
He could have no idea how much I longed to defy my father.
Heat burned through me. I was weighed down by the demands my parents placed on me. The cage they’d set around me was suffocating, tighter than before. I wanted to break free. I wanted someone to let me out, the way I’d released the dragonette.
And yet, there was no one left to rescue me. I was trapped, crushed between my father and the Surran king.
My breath burned, my lungs tight. No one could rescue me … but myself. I looked out at the forests and the shadow of the mountains. I had magic, I could run to the fae. I could fight my way out of my cage. Determination welled inside me. I’d do it. I’d find a way to set Lyo free, and we’d escape to the mountains and I would never be trapped again.
Lyo – Spoiling for a Fight
He was reduced to the activity that had filled his days in the previous weeks: watching palace guards.
The first pair had a nice sideline going, charging for admission to see the Surrana, like he was a wildcat or a newly-caught dragon. Apart from that, they ignored him.
When the next pair came along, he noted that their shifts were six hours long. He tried to stay awake to assess any weaknesses, but sleep dragged him down before he’d figured out even one way to get the key from the hook on the opposite wall and into his hands.
The next pair obligingly marked the shift change by smashing a metal baton against the bars of his cell to ensure he was wide awake. When they saw how it made him jump, they grinned and beat a rapid rat-tat-tat against the bars before sitting at the table to eat their breakfast.
A volatile pair. That could be useful.
He waited for them to start eating, then called, “Nothing for me?”
It took three tries before they responded. The one who’d made use of his baton answered without looking at him. “No point wasting good food on a corpse.”
“Your king won’t want me to faint on the way to the scaffold.”
“We’ll drag you.”
He clicked his tongue. “Pretty dull, watching an unconscious man get the chop.”
“We’ll wake you in time for the show,” the guard promised. “Until then, shut your Surran face!”
“I was hoping we might chat. I’ve got to befriend one of you lot – I need someone to send a message to my poor old mum back home.”
The guard with the baton slapped his hand against the table, wiped his mouth with the back of the hand still holding the baton and got to his feet, stalking towards Lyo’s cell in a manner he probably thought was menacing. Since he was doing exactly what Lyo wanted, he didn’t find it particularly threatening.
“You will shut your mouth, boy, or I’ll come in there and shut it for you.”
“You could try.” Lyo stood in the middle of the cell, neck stooped since the stupid cell was built for short Muirland criminals.
The guard sucked his teeth, his hand flexing on the baton. He was spoiling for a fight. Lyo just needed to push him a little further. And once the door opened he had to be ready.
He raised his hands, rattling his manacles in the guard’s face. “Tell you what, I’ll make it fair and only use one hand.” He put one hand behind his back, chains clanking.
The guard twisted, his eyes finding the key on the far wall.
Lyo jutted his chin, silently praying that the guard would give in to his desire for violence.
But the gods couldn’t hear his prayers through stone.
“Leave it,” the other guard said. “Don’t be stupid. Do you want to end up on the grid?”
The guard with the baton glared at him, nostrils flaring. Lyo thought he was considering whether a punishment might be worth the satisfaction of beating him.
He crashed the baton against the bars, then turned back. No.
“Aw, come on. Are you sca—?”
The guard turned far enough to smash the baton on the bars again, drowning out his words.
“Like that, is—”
Another clang cut him off. He tried a couple more times, but the guard was more patient than he’d given him credit for, responding to every noise he made by setting the bars reverberating. Lyo fell silent in the end. He wasn’t going to get satisfaction from this pair, so he might as well save his energy.
17 – Languishing in the Cells
I had made my decision, but I was running out of options, which left me trying to force a solution from the handful of nothing I had. Lyo was trapped in the cells. That would only be a problem until midday the following day. Once noon struck on market day, he’d be dead. I couldn’t let that happen, but I had no idea how to prevent it.
There was just one plan that kept circling my mind. I had magic. I could change my face with it when I needed to slip out of the palace. What else could I do with it? My talent had to have a use, a proper use that could achieve something worthwhile. Magic had to be able to get Lyo out of his cell: unlock the door, or control the will of the guards, or … something.
If I was Mage Redmor, I’d be able to free Lyo with a snap of my fingers – or some irritating chanting. But Mage Redmor had spent dozens of years developing his abilities. I had this afternoon. And since I could never breathe a word of what I could do, I had no one to teach me.
But perhaps…
My father’s library was situated in the top of the westernmost corner of the palace. It was almost in the attics, a sign of how much my father regarded books and learning.
But it was full of volumes, it was kept clean by the maids, and it was empty of anyone who might spy on what I was doing and report back to my parents.
When I reached the library, I scanned the shelves, seeking anything to help me understand the magic that lay within me. Through the narrow windows that cast light along the shelves, I could see into city square, and the mages’ tower on the other side, opposite the palace. I’d bet their library held everything I could possibly need.
But I wasn’t there, and couldn’t get there. There must be books on magic in this library. My father might not use the room, but he had a compulsion to possess the finest things the country had to offer. He would want it to be the best in the land. Finally, I found
a volume named Dragon Magick. I pulled it out of the shelf. Magic came from dragons, so this book might contain some of the information I needed.
I ignored the fact that my own magic had nothing to do with dragons and set the book out on one of the desks that marked the ends of the shelves.
I flicked through the pages, searching for a description of magic that might be able to help Lyo, and a minute later I’d fallen helplessly into the book.
“What are you doing here, sis?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin when Jaran spoke at my shoulder. He’d crept into the library without me noticing. Instinctively, I half-covered the pages with my arm, but that only succeeded in drawing his attention to what I’d been reading.
“You might need training if you intend to become a dragon-hunter,” he drawled.
“I don’t want to become a dragon-hunter,” I snapped, then coloured at my boldness. I didn’t want Jaran to start to wonder why else I was reading a book about dragons. “I was just interested.”
It was too little, too late, to divert his curiosity. Jaran pulled the book towards himself, flicked through a page or two, then slammed it shut. “You’re courting danger, Relle.”
“I want to learn about magic.” I straightened my shoulders. “There’s no harm in that.”
He watched me steadily. “There’s a great deal of harm in it. You aren’t stupid. What do you want to know about magic for? You aren’t a mage. Leave it to the experts.”
Jaran sounded bored, rather than angry. I looked sidelong at him. I shouldn’t trust my brother, but somehow I did. Recently he’d seemed different from our father, when once I’d assumed they were the same.
I turned to face him fully, ignoring the book. Jaran might be able to help me. He could persuade Father. He might be able to order the guards without Father finding out until too late. “I need to get Lyo out of the cells,” I told him.