by Katharine
‘Oh, look, the dancers are returning!’ Lady Nyssa leans across, addressing us both. ‘Such a wonderful performance so far, wouldn’t you agree? I had no idea the flightless could be so graceful.’
The orchestra starts tuning. But I don’t know when I’ll have another opportunity, so I ignore Lady Nyssa and lean closer to Lord Hawkin. ‘It was obviously because of what?’
‘Well, not many people remember this – not many people have survived here as long as I have –’ he looks at me proudly – ‘but the king proposed to your mother. I mean, before he proposed to Rosa of Dacia, who became his first wife. But your mother wouldn’t have him. And then she ran off with your father.’ He nods. ‘Remember it like it was yesterday. Pity really – she’d have made a good queen.’
I stare at him open-mouthed. I knew my parents were devoted to each other; my father became a different person after my mother died. But I didn’t know the risks they’d taken to be together. And I didn’t know that my mother had had the chance to rule. That she’d had the throne in her grasp – the throne, and all she could have achieved there – and had given it up for love.
And my uncle … My gaze strays towards the front of the room, where the king has joined the group around the queen.
Did my uncle really love my mother?
Or was it always, really, about Atratys?
The king turns around in his seat, catches my eye, and smiles.
I don’t notice the rest of the performance. The next thing I’m aware of is applause – the ballet has ended. Lady Nyssa has already moved from her seat, and I see her on the other side of the room talking to Lucien, their heads close together. I turn back to Lord Hawkin, hoping for some more reminiscences, but he seems to have nodded off. I’m wondering whether I should wake him or let him sleep – servants are clearing the chairs away now – when Lucien taps me on the shoulder.
‘We’re returning to your apartment, Your Grace. Now.’
The anger in his eyes shocks me, and I obey automatically. We are soon back in my sitting room. Lucien makes sure Letya is absent, then turns on me.
‘By the Firebird’s blood, what do you think you’re doing, Aderyn?’ His voice is low despite his temper, as if he’s still afraid that someone will hear us. ‘Nyssa told me what you and Hawkin were talking about. Are you trying to give the king reason to take Atratys from you? Are you really that idiotic?’
‘I didn’t do anything!’ I speak under my breath, trying to match Lucien’s tone. ‘Hawkin was talking and I was listening, that’s –’
‘Hawkin’s an old fool. He’s too unimportant to be at any risk. But you –’ There’s so much scorn in his tone. He begins striding up and down across the soft-hued carpet. ‘To encourage him to gossip about the king, to repeat rumours about his relationship with your mother –’
‘I hardly encouraged him. But I want to know who had her murdered, Lucien. And why. And I want –’ My breath catches in my throat as I recognise the truth of the words I’m about to speak aloud for the first time. ‘I want to make the person who killed her pay. Someone should suffer, for what they did to her. For what they did to my father and me.’
He shakes his head in frustration and whispers angrily, ‘Don’t you realise how precarious your position here is? Especially after what happened last week. Any other hint of scandal or treasonous behaviour will undo everything I’m trying to achieve.’
I dig my fingernails into my palms. ‘And what are you trying to achieve, Lucien? All you’ve done so far is arrange endless meetings with –’
‘Most of the people you’ve met are state officers or members of Convocation. They could be helpful –’
‘Will Convocation stop the king forcing me into marriage? Will they help me fly again?’ Lucien doesn’t answer. I draw myself up, wishing (not for the first time) that he wasn’t quite so much taller than me. ‘It’s all very well for you, my lord. You have friends here. Nobody is watching you, or judging you. But the only time I’m able to relax is when I’m alone or with Letya. I spend almost every other minute wondering if the person I’m speaking to is going to try to kill me or take my dominion. While you seem to spend most of your evenings in some corner, flirting with Lady Nyssa –’
He stops pacing right in front of me, his handsome face marred by a sneer. ‘Nyssa? Is that really what you think is going on?’
‘What am I supposed to think?’ I hiss back at him. ‘I’ve seen how you look at her. You never even smile at me –’ I stop myself. I’m supposed to be a Protector, not a whining child. ‘She must be very fond of you, since she was kind enough to run to you and tell you everything Lord Hawkin had been saying.’
Lucien almost laughs. ‘Yes, she was being kind. She’s my cousin, and she wants to help me. And you, strangely enough. But while we’re on the subject: at some point in the future, if I survive, I’ll be the master of one relatively insignificant estate. I could not aspire to marriage with a Protector. And no ruler of a dominion would ever consider me.’ There is challenge in his dark eyes and he holds my gaze for a moment – but I’ve no idea what he expects me to say.
‘If you’re trying to warn me not to fall in love with someone inappropriate, you needn’t worry, my lord. I’ve seen no one here I could possibly consider marrying.’
His face flushes and he flings away from me, stalking to the other side of the room before turning back.
‘I’m doing my best, Your Grace. But I can’t protect you unless you at least attempt to curb this childish inclination to say and do whatever comes into your head.’ His words sting, despite the low tone in which they’re spoken. ‘You need to concentrate on trying to regain your ability to transform. And as for these romantic dreams of revenge that you’re entertaining, forget them. Your mother is dead and flown, and it’s about time you let the past die with her –’
I slap his face so hard my palm hurts. My fingers leave a red imprint on his cheek. ‘Has it ever occurred to you, my lord, that I’m also doing my best?’
Lucien is staring at me, breathing hard. He doesn’t reply.
‘I know you hold me in contempt. That you think I’m too immature, and that I shouldn’t be Protector.’ My voice is getting louder, but I don’t care. ‘I know you’re angry with your father for sending you here. But at least your parents are alive. And you are not the only one who loves Atratys –’
Tears spring into my eyes. Whether they are the product of anger or grief I’m not sure, but I know one thing: I am not going to let Lucien Rookwood see me cry.
Letya opens the door to the room. For an instant she stands on the threshold, eyes and mouth wide with astonishment. ‘What’s happening here? Aderyn?’
I ignore her questions, push past her and escape into the corridor beyond.
Six
I hurry along the corridors without any aim or conscious direction. My only thought is to get as far away from Lucien as possible. I suppose I’m trying to walk off my rage and hurt, but it doesn’t really dissipate, just settles like a leaden mass underneath my ribcage. Eventually I pause for breath and look around me.
I’m lost.
Nothing in this part of the Citadel looks familiar. I start walking again, slowly, trying to work out where, in the maze of passages and courtyards and towers, I’ve ended up. I’m on the point of giving in and asking for help when I see a staircase that I think I recognise – one that should take me back to the entrance hall with its emblazoned motto. Relief makes me light-headed. I pick up my skirts and dash down the curving, shallow steps until I finally emerge, not into the glitter of the hallway, but into blazing late-afternoon sunlight. Dazzled and surprised, I stumble, straight into the chest of –
Someone. A man, completely naked, but with a dark robe clutched in front of him. Beneath my outstretched fingers his skin is warm, tingling with power from a recent shift of shape. I can feel the insistent beat of his heart. The blood flames into my face as I lift my hands and try to back away.
‘I’m sorry –�
�
‘Careful!’ He grabs my wrist with his free hand. ‘Look behind you.’
I twist my head, and gasp, and my knees start to shake. I’m standing at the very edge of a sheer drop, hundreds of wing-spans above the fjord below. And I realise where I am: on the landing platform of the Citadel, a huge expanse of grass studded with trees and a lake, jutting out above the water. There are the leather-garbed attendants, hooded and gloved, waiting to hand robes to nobles who have arrived at the castle in their transformed state. And in front of me, looking as if he’s about to laugh …
‘I was lost.’ I can’t think of anything else to say.
‘And now you’re found.’ He grins at me. ‘I’m going to walk backwards. If you walk forward at the same time, we’ll find a safer place to have a conversation.’ Still holding my wrist, he guides me away from the edge of the platform. ‘There.’ I drop my gaze as he shakes out the robe and puts it on. ‘Now, we may be properly introduced. Siegfried Redwing, heir to the Dominion of Olorys, at your service.’
‘Aderyn of Atratys.’
He bows briefly. ‘Protector. I’m delighted to meet you. I must apologise for being so informally attired.’ He grins at me again, and I can’t help smiling back, a little.
‘I was trying to find my way to the main entrance.’
‘Luckily for you, I know the safest path.’ He offers me his arm, and leads me towards a pair of crude gates that open onto another staircase. Siegfried rattles on about his first time at court and how long it took him to find his way around. I’m not sure I believe him, but I appreciate his attempt to set me at ease. My discomfort has mostly faded when he asks me,‘So, how are you enjoying your visit so far?’
‘Very well, I thank you.’ I’m mindful of Lucien’s warnings, even though at that moment I hate my clerk. ‘Everyone has been most welcoming.’ Remembering Odette’s description of Siegfried, I glance sideways. He certainly is attractive: silver-blond hair, tanned skin and dark blue eyes. Not quite as beautiful as Odette, and not as handsome as Lucien, to my mind. But still, Siegfried and my cousin will look, at least, as if they belong together. ‘You are here to see my cousin the princess?’
‘To assist with the wedding preparations, supposedly, though I expect I’ll be in the way.’ He shrugs. ‘I don’t really mind, as long as they keep things traditional. A royal wedding should be traditional, don’t you agree?’
I open my mouth to tell him that I haven’t really thought about it, but he continues.
‘I was sorry to hear about your father. I met him, about six months before he died. He was a good man.’ He glances away briefly. ‘My mother died three years ago. I remember how it felt. If there’s any assistance I can render …’
‘Thank you.’ A kind offer, though perhaps only lightly meant. We’re back in the entrance hall now, so I stop walking and turn to face him. ‘Did you know my father well? I don’t remember you coming to Merl.’
‘He came to see us at L’Ammergeia.’ Siegfried tilts his head. ‘Did he never mention it to you?’
I hesitate. My father had secrets; I’ve always known that, and the revelation of another does not surprise me. But it’s bad enough having Lucien acting so superior. I don’t want this handsome stranger to think my father didn’t trust me.
‘Cousin …’ Aron is making his way across the marble floor. ‘A word, if you please.’ He acknowledges Siegfried with a faint lift of his brows. ‘Redwing.’
‘Your Highness.’ Siegfried executes a flawless bow and turns to me. ‘I hope to see you again this evening, Protector.’ He flashes me another brilliant smile, then winks at me. ‘Assuming you don’t get lost …’
When he’s gone, Aron murmurs, ‘So you’ve met Lord Seed-brain. He has a pretty face. And I suppose my poor sister must marry somebody.’
‘He seems pleasant enough.’
‘Hmm. Your waiting woman is looking for you.’ He glances down at me, curious. ‘You had a fight with Rookwood, apparently.’
Vexation – with Letya, for being so indiscreet, but mostly with Lucien – makes me clench my fists. ‘Nothing to speak of. But thank you for the message, cousin. I dare say I’ll see you at dinner.’ I bow and hurry back to my room, where Letya is waiting for me.
‘Aderyn, I’ve been looking for you all over.’
‘I’m sorry. After what Lucien said, and what I did … I had to get away. Where is he now?’
‘He stormed off. Possibly because I threatened to write to Lord Lancelin and tell him that his son’s been bullying you.’ Her lips twitch. ‘He knows I’ll do it too.’
‘Oh, Letya.’ Her care for me brings fresh tears to my eyes. ‘What would I do without you?’
‘Let’s hope we never have to find out.’ Her smile fades. ‘I don’t know. Maybe this place is bringing out the worst in Lord Lucien.’ She tugs on one earlobe. ‘It’s too big, and there are too many people. And those Dark Guards give me the shivers.’
‘Do you want to go home?’
Letya shakes her head. ‘Of course not. I’ll stay as long as you do.’ She grins suddenly. ‘That’s what Lord Lancelin is paying me for.’
‘Very well.’ I sniff. ‘But I think tonight I’m going to have a headache. We’ll tell Lucien that I’m too ill to come to dinner, and I’ll eat here with you instead. And after supper we can read and talk and play Battle, and pretend we’re back home at Merl.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’ My spirits lift a little as I contemplate an evening without courtly rigmarole. Without the royal family or any of the other Protectors. Without Lucien. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’
Letya and I have a pleasant evening, although I can’t stop my mind drifting back to Lucien’s words, to the mixture of shock and hurt in his eyes when I slapped him. Once I’m in bed I start wondering whether our relationship can be repaired; whether I want it to be repaired. I could ask Lord Lancelin to send me a replacement clerk. Someone who doesn’t argue with me or glare at me or think he’s entitled to tell me off. I could send Lucien away and never see him again.
The idea should fill me with joy, given the way he talks to me.
I fall asleep wondering why it doesn’t.
Lucien comes to my apartment the next morning, just after breakfast. He is wearing a long, loose robe, of the sort that Siegfried put on yesterday. Which means he’s either just transformed from raven to human, or he’s planning to shift the other way very shortly.
‘Your Grace.’ He bows. ‘I’d like permission to leave court for a few days. I’ve had word from Atratys, and there are matters at home that require my attention.’
That’s it. No apology. No reference to our argument. I suppose I wasn’t the only one lying in bed last night thinking about the future of our association.
‘I see. You’re returning to Hatchlands?’
‘Yes.’
I wonder what game he’s playing. Is he trying to prove to me how much I need him? Is his pride such that he cannot get past the fact that I struck him? Or is he abandoning me in the hope that I’ll fail?
‘You seem very certain that I’ll give you my permission.’ I gesture at his robe.
‘If my absence is at all inconvenient –’ His colour deepens. ‘I would not ask, if circumstances were not such as to …’ The tendons of his wrists are standing out from his clenched fists. He clears his throat, seems to master whatever is provoking his distress. ‘I trust you will remember my warnings and behave appropriately, Your Grace.’
Does he wish me to dislike him? ‘You need not remind me of my duty, Lord Rookwood. Take as much time as you require. Pray send my compliments to your mother.’ I turn away, too angry to watch him leave. Angry at Lucien for daring to upset me. Angry at myself for becoming so easily upset. Taking a seat at the window, I stare out at the glittering water of the fjord. Behind me, the door closes.
I stay in my chair, brooding – over Lucien’s behaviour, over the king and my mother, over the whereabouts of Deeks Flayfeather – until Letya comes in a
little later. She is tidying in the bedroom (she refuses to let the castle housemaids anywhere near my clothes and jewels) and I don’t pay much attention until I hear her exclaim in horror.
I look round. ‘What’s the matter? Is something broken? The clasp on my amber necklace seemed a little loose the other day, but I’m sure it can be fixed.’
‘It isn’t that.’ She comes out of the bedroom, holding something in her hand. ‘This was in one of the drawers …’
The object she’s offering me looks like a sort of doll, crudely fashioned out of coarse cloth with long black threads stuck to its head to represent hair. The face has been painted on: blue eyes, red lips. It’s obviously supposed to be me. A white wing feather – from a true gull, I would guess – has been bound to the doll with a length of narrow chain. And there’s something else …
‘What is that?’ I point to a disc of silver metal sitting about where the heart would be, if the doll were a person. Wordlessly Letya turns the doll over: the end of a long silver nail protrudes from its back.
My stomach heaves. ‘It’s horrible.’
‘It’s a curse, Aderyn, that’s what it is. An evil curse, meant to harm you –’ She’s shaking and crying and trying to mutter a prayer at the same time.
‘Letya, calm yourself.’ I get up and point to the chair. ‘Sit there, and put that thing on the table.’ She obeys, and I fetch her a glass of wine from the decanter that sits on the sideboard. ‘Drink this.’
‘But we have to destroy it, we have to burn it –’
‘And we will. But first we have to show the guest master.’ Though I’m not sure what he will be able to do. My skin crawls as I force myself to pick the doll up. It wouldn’t have been hard for someone to get into my room. Housemaids come in and out every day, and the boy who brings the firewood. And Lucien has a key …
I shudder and push the thought away.
Letya is still crying.
‘Don’t upset yourself so much. It’s just fabric and stuffing. It can’t actually do me any harm.’ Her face takes on a stubborn look, but I try again. ‘This is no more than superstition, that’s all. Honestly, what would Mistress Gleb say?’ Our tutor – my tutor, in theory, but I had insisted Letya join me for most of my lessons – had often chastised my friend for some ancient belief picked up in early childhood.