Dragonoak Read online

  “I-I hope that's true,” Sen said, embarrassed. “... thank you, Rowan.”

  I held the doors open for her, and Sen thanked me far too much for that, too. We parted ways, Sen heading for the tower, but when I thought of returning to Goblin's cabin – to streets filled with humans – I couldn't bring myself to move. I sat down on her front step, not knowing what to do with myself, now that I had no work to attend to.

  I caught the attention of plenty of pane. Unlike the humans around Orinhal, they didn't stand there and gawk, whispering things about me to their friends. They smiled and waved, asking me if there was anything I needed. Asking because they wanted to help, not as a means of telling me that I had no business there. A few of them had yet to master Mesomium and fumbled over their words, grinning in pleasant surprise when I replied in Svargan.

  It was midday before Sen returned. Claire's day had got off to a slower start than usual, setting Sen's usual schedule back a few hours, and she looked down at me with concern she couldn't place. She'd just come from the tower; she knew Claire was fine.

  “Can I stay here?” I asked. I hadn't thought it through, but it felt like the right thing to do. “I'm only causing trouble at Goblin's, and Akela did tell me not to let you work too hard. I can help out! I can cook. Maybe not as well as you, but I can cook, and you have chickens, don't you? I know how to look after them and—”

  “Rowan,” Sen said through a smile, hand on my shoulder. “You can stay here. I'd like that.”

  The cabin only had one bedroom, which Sen apologised for profusely, but the sofa was more than enough for me. It was the size of most of beds I'd ever slept in, swamped in cushions and deer-skin blankets. The room was cosy by pane standards and far too big for me, and Sen truly had done all she could to make it her home. A mantelpiece ran over the fireplace, covered in yet more tiny wooden birds, and books were stacked on the shelves around the room. One was lying open on what I presumed was a low table – it came up to my hip – in the centre of the room.

  “Did you make all of these?” I asked, running my fingers along the mantelpiece, barely brushing away a speck of dust in the process. “They're really good. I know a friend who's always carving things like this and they'd definitely be impressed.”

  “I like birds...” Sen murmured, scratching the back of her head.

  “So does Akela!” I said. “She wants a chicken, actually.”

  “I know,” Sen said, brightening a little. “I was thinking, the next chicken I hatch, m-maybe she'd like that...”

  “Definitely!” I said, glad to see her beam.

  Remembering herself, Sen cleared her throat and said, “I'll find a step and you can help me with lunch. I-if you want to.”

  Claire was far from the only person Sen cooked for. There were a handful of younger pane whose cabins were left empty throughout the day, guardians working around the city, and Sen made meals for them, as well as a handful of older humans throughout Orinhal. I helped her prepare the meals, sizing down the humans' portions, and took to feeding the chickens and raven chicks while Sen made her deliveries.

  It was close to impossible to send a raven anywhere of worth without the Felheimish shooting them down, but Sen was convinced that there'd be a use for them, by the time they were grown.

  For two days, I was content in Sen's cabin. I wandered the streets freely, for I was the only human with any business in the pane district, and I visited Claire without warning, taking breakfast to her or stopping in between meetings for a few minutes. She wasn't resistant to seeing me, not exactly, but she wasn't always as welcoming as I'd hoped. Still, I knew I needed to be there, knew that shame and stress mingled within her, and did what I could to look beyond all that.

  “Do you want to have dinner with the Marshal tonight?” Sen asked as I peeled carrots with a knife that could've doubled as a short-sword. “N-not that I don't want to eat with you, ah. But you've been here the last two nights, and... do you think this is too much?”

  “It looks fine,” I said. It wasn't perfect; there was more than I could eat, definitely more than Claire could get through, but Sen was learning. “I think I'll go to Claire's. I'll take the tray and you can finally finish up that book you were reading.”

  Sen was getting a little better about taking time for herself, too.

  “It's getting to the good bit...” Sen said, grinning around her fangs. “The main character, she's trying to save her mother from...”

  A knock at the door make her ears stand up.

  “Sen! It's me!” Ash called. “You got Rowan in there?”

  I put the knife down at the sound of my name, carrot-half peeled, and left Sen to keep an eye on the stew. I hadn't spoken to Ash since the incident outside of the tower, and I found myself eager to confront her. I wasn't angry. I hadn't had the energy for that those past few days, but I burnt with curiosity. I needed to know what had led her to tell people about me.

  I pulled the door open and Ash sighed in relief.

  “Thank goodness! Been looking for you all over. Marshal's too busy to be bothered and Akela's off who-knows-where, but we got a couple of new arrivals claiming to know you,” she said, leaning against the door frame. “Now, we're not in the habit of turning anyone away, but I thought I'd check out their story and let you know they're here.”

  Atthis and Katja.

  When I was in Orinhal, I could forget about the war raging through the territories, but I hadn't been able to put Katja out of my mind. I'd spent so long dreading her arrival that I'd let myself believe that anxiety and apprehension had been the worst of it.

  “Sen,” I called into the kitchen, “I'm heading to the tower now. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Listen, Rowan. Wanted to explain about the whole—”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Down by the gates. But listen, I—”

  “Bring them to Claire straight away,” I told her, setting off, “Seriously. Right now.”

  There was still a good half an hour before dinner, and Claire was sat down with three soldiers, studying a scroll one of them had brought. I burst through the door and they all turned to look at me, soldiers scowling, and Claire furrowed her brow. I had minutes at most before Ash arrived with Katja and Atthis in tow and needed everyone but Claire out of there.

  “Sorry. Sorry, but I need to talk to you,” I said, eyes wide and pleading.

  One of the soldiers scoffed, no doubt aware of who I was, and Claire said, “If you could wait a few minutes, Rowan, I'm certain we'd all appreciate it.”

  “Please. It's important, Claire.”

  Claire held my gaze, and relented after a few seconds. She dismissed the soldiers with a tilt of her head, saying that they'd continue the discussion first thing in the morning, and each one of them glowered at me on the way out. I made sure the door was firmly closed behind them, as if that was enough to keep Katja out, and Claire rose to her feet, knowing I'd never interrupt her like that unless it was urgent.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Has something happened?”

  “No, I'm fine, it's just... Atthis and Katja are here. They're at the gate with Ash, and...”

  The way Claire was looking at me caused the words to dry up in my mouth. She wasn't glaring, nor was she scowling, but there was something deeply discomforting in her expression, as though it masked an anger that had never been spoken of.

  “Katja,” she said dryly. “Katja is here, in Orinhal?”

  “Yes? She was being brought here by Atthis. You knew that, you knew she was...” I paused, bringing a hand to my mouth. “You didn't know that.”

  Claire sat back down, clasping her hands together.

  “I thought she was in Canth. Imprisoned or escaped. I did not want to presume to press you on the matter,” she said in a frighteningly even tone.

  I'd assumed that Akela had told her, but a look told me how wrong I'd been. She stared at the centre of her desk, not blinking, and I was certain a word from her would knock me bac
k.

  “You can be mad at me later,” I said, glancing at the door, willing it to remain closed. “What's going to happen with her?”

  “I should like to execute her,” Claire said, words recoiling against my chest.

  Time was running out. Any moment now, Katja would be there. She'd be in the room with Claire, and after all she'd said to drive her blades in deeper, I couldn't stomach the thought of how she'd relish in what Claire had become.

  “Claire,” I said firmly. “You can't execute her. And even if you did, how would that look? Executing a healer to protect me. To protect a necromancer.”

  Claire's gaze broke away from whatever scuff in the wood had claimed her attention, and meeting my gaze, she said, “... there is room in the prison, I suppose.”

  Relief hammered in my chest. I barely felt as though I had my own freedom when Katja was denied hers, and I don't know how I would've endured knowing she was free to come and go as she pleased.

  It didn't take much longer for Atthis and Katja to arrive. I stood by Claire's side, wrist clasped behind my back as the handle turned, and Ash pulled the door open. She showed Atthis and Katja inside, and I stared between them, unable to focus on anything or anyone for a moment.

  I wanted Claire to see what a monster Katja was, but she was remarkably well put together. The signs of a journey wore on her, but there wasn't a smudge of dirt across her face; her hair was recently cleaned and braided back, loose strands framing her bright, cheerful face. She sat at the other side of the desk, perfectly attentive. Not once did her attention wander, nor did her lips twitch or her fingers rub against each other, as mine now did.

  “Ightham,” Atthis breathed, bringing a fist to his chest. “I can't tell you how glad I am to find you alive.”

  “The same to you,” Claire said, nodding politely. “Galal's been talking of nothing but your return for weeks. Where is he now?”

  “On duty,” Ash chimed in, “I've sent someone to track him down.”

  As if she hadn't heard Ash, Claire turned to Katja. She stared at her without a word, silently goading her to say all that must be roiling behind her perfectly placid expression. Katja leant forward, and folded her hands together in her lap. With a smile so effortlessly sincere that even I was at risk of being taken in by it, Katja took the initiative and began speaking her venom.

  “Sir Igh—goodness, I do apologise. It's Marshal Ightham now, isn't it? Marshal, in the weeks it took me and Uncle Atthis to travel through Kastelir, I believe we expected many things from Orinhal. Plenty of which we didn't dare to voice out loud, for fear that our hopes would desert us once we reached the city. I believe I speak for the both of us when I say we never dreamt of finding something this grand, this extensive. The city and the people within it are thriving, thanks in no small part to your efforts, Marshal. You've done Kastelir a great service.”

  She was still smiling at Claire. She actually dared to smile at her, while I went unnoticed. Try as I might, I felt nothing seep from Katja; her oily fingers didn't move unseen through the air, grasping for my throat, my chest, my wrist.

  “I do all that I can for the people of the territories,” Claire said flatly. She spoke as though Katja was a stranger; as though I hadn't tasted bile in my throat to speak of her. “If you're to reside within Orinhal, the first thing you'll have to accept is that Kastelir as you knew it is no more. The country has been disbanded.”

  Katja was startled by what Claire said, there was no getting around that, but nothing like outrage resounded within her. She took time to digest the news while Atthis strode forward, one hand clamping down on Katja's side of the desk. I looked away, unable to face him. After being forced from his own country for years on end, he'd returned to find himself nothing but the memory of a king long since presumed dead.

  “You have done what, Ightham?” Atthis demanded.

  “Marshal,” Ash corrected him from the door.

  Atthis ignored her and leant forward, while Claire remained perfectly calm.

  “You rend my kingdom into mere shreds and then tell me that I must accept it?” Atthis spat. “Who are you to do such a thing?”

  Claire kept her lips pursed together, giving Atthis a moment to stew in his anger. She meant to answer him, none of us doubted that, but Katja beat her to it. Pivoting in her seat, Katja clung to the back of the chair, eyes flashing with what could've been embarrassment at his outburst.

  “Uncle. Do you hear yourself? The Marshal has dedicated years of her life to protecting this land and its people, and you ask her who she is to make such a decision,” she said sternly. Atthis seemed to shrink from her, only then realising what he'd said. “Ask yourself this: what's more important to you, to all of us? Reclaiming your title of King or protecting the countless people suffering across these lands? Kastelir was in no fine shape before the dragons came. This is our home, and it is better that we allow it to divide itself, rather than see it fall to pieces.”

  Atthis rubbed a hand across his mouth, and nodded his head in slow, shallow motions. He wouldn't risk shouting at Claire again, not with so many people to witness his ignorance. He'd spent all that time in Canth thinking the world would wait for him; we all had.

  “I... apologise, Ightham. I have been away from my... from these lands, and understand nothing of what any of you have endured,” he said, hand clamping down on Katja's shoulder. “I should like to be brought up to speed, once I have seen my son.”

  “Reforging the territories was a decision made by the people, not myself. Kidira has been nothing but supportive of the notion,” Claire explained, for the sake of not letting Katja say it all. At the sound of Kidira's name, Atthis' face paled and Katja gripped the arms of her chair, leaning forward. For all Katja had done to me, to all of us, I didn't resent the relief that was bestowed upon her. Claire looked between the two of them, nodding in confirmation. “Kidira is alive and well. However, she doesn't currently reside within Orinhal. She left Kyrindval almost two months ago, in order to attend to other matters.”

  Katja had been controlled thus far. I knew it was a fleeting façade, engineered to make me look like a liar. She knew how I'd been forced to handle what she'd done, knew what I wouldn't have been able to help but blurt out to Claire; yet there she was, calm enough to see clearly when a King could not. More than that, she was defending Claire and all she'd striven for. How could she have done all I'd accused her of? The only genuine thing she did throughout that entire meeting was suck in a shaky breath, trembling as she wiped her eyes on her sleeves, overwhelmed by the knowledge that her mother was alive.

  “Thank the gods,” she said with a trembling laugh. “Oh, dear me. Listen to that. I really was in Canth for far too long.”

  Claire was far from moved by her open display of emotion.

  “Galal ought to be with us momentarily,” Claire assured Atthis, and turned to Katja, saying, “And as for you, Katja, the guards shall escort you to the prison.”

  Katja's expression didn't darken, but every tense muscle in my body unwound. Claire believed me. She'd seen Katja at her best and chose to believe me regardless.

  “Please, Marshal. My name is Kouris. Nobody calls me Katja,” she said calmly, forgetting the tears she'd just shed for her mother. “And might I ask why?”

  “You are more than aware of what you've done,” Claire returned.

  Sighing, Katja propped her jaw up on her fist and said, “Well, of course I am. I suppose there's no getting around that much; and indeed, there is no denying what I did, or excusing it. But I should like a chance to speak for myself, if I may.”

  “You might,” Claire said. Had she taken half a second longer to reply, I would've beaten her to it; I would've demanded to hear her out, desperate to know how she'd lie to defend herself.

  “It's plain to see how much you've endured in our absence, Marshal. Before returning to Asar, we didn't dare to imagine that you might be alive. We certainly couldn't have fathomed all that you've suffered through in order to s
urvive, and I doubt we may never understand the true extent of it. In the same way, you have no clear understanding of what I have been through.

  “I was forced to leave my home burning behind me. I found myself in a land without money, without connections; I didn't even speak the language. All I had was the constant, gnawing knowledge that those I loved – my mother, my friends – were dead, and that I ought to have remained behind in the same way they did.

  “Naturally, it got a little better, in time. I began to understand my surroundings, found people I considered family, and worked as a healer to pay my way. Yet all I knew was that the people of Kastelir, my people, were suffering. Suffering at the hands of Felheim; the hands of my fiancé's family.

  “Surely I should've been able to do something. I had spent plenty of time within Thule, and... and the last time I visited, Marshal, Alexander had seemed so distracted. Goodness. At the time, I thought he was having second thoughts, though he assured me nothing was wrong. But of course, it's so clear now; it was your absence, wasn't it? I never did get to meet the sister he spoke so fondly of.

  “I lost myself somewhere along the way, Marshal. Lost myself in the blame I'd convinced myself I deserved, and acted atrociously. Desperate times, and whatnot. I only ever did what I believed would help Kastelir—these four territories, rather. It has never truly been about me.”

  None of us spoke, none of us looked at each other. None of us took our eyes off Katja, and I knew of no way to scream that she was lying, lying, lying; every word she said was the truth. I didn't doubt that she believed every last syllable that slipped from her tongue. When I was chained to her stove, it wasn't about me, either; it was about what I could do, and how that power could be harnessed to save Kastelir.

  Claire's expression didn't change throughout any part of Katja's story. Not even when she mentioned Prince Alexander.

  “A touching tale, but you still engaged in torture,” Claire replied bluntly. “To speak nothing of murder.”