61. Harper
61
Atalisman of courage, Harper thought, squeezing the reassuring weight of the dagger. She swallowed. She might need to be stronger than she hoped. It pained her to think of her companions, wherever they were. Former companions, she reminded herself. With a deep breath, Harper tried to fill herself with Brand’s immovable strength, Ragnar’s steady faith, and Erika’s unflinching boldness. Last of all, she turned to Aedon’s optimism. I can get through this, she told herself, repeating the mantra until it gilded her with the pretence of truth.
“Are you ready?” Dimitrius asked.
She opened her eyes with a start. “Yes.” And she half believed it. One more step. One at a time. If she could win each one, then she could proceed—and there was hope. She belted the dagger around her hips, where it proudly bounced off the fine fabrics as she strode beside Dimitrius with more outward courage than she felt. If nothing else, the dagger would be a scrap of the familiar in a world where she knew nothing.
The king was nowhere to be found in the great hall. His throne stood there, empty and cold, with only an elf standing at its foot. At the lack of the king’s presence, Harper’s growing anxiety cooled a little. Even so, she had no idea what to expect.
The man turned as they entered. “Lord Ellarian, the king requests her presence in his personal study.”
Dimitrius frowned. “And myself?”
“Your presence is not required, Lord.”
Dimitrius paused. “Very well.” He turned and nodded to Harper, his expression inscrutable, but she was certain she saw a flicker of fear, swiftly covered, that did not aid her own confidence. “I will be with you in spirit,” he spoke into her mind. “Do not fear. You are not yet beyond my protection.”
His protection. It sent a thrill of something she could not identify through her. She supposed fear, that she needed it, and relief, that she had some lifeline. She had no choice but to follow the king’s man, with Dimitrius left waiting in the shadows of the great hall, staring after her.
The king’s study was surprisingly small and cold. The minute fire in the grate did nothing to warm Harper’s limbs and the chill that slowly crept through her.
“Your Majesty.” Harper bowed as low as she could.
“Sit.” His voice was abrupt, and as cold as his surroundings.
She took a seat obediently, sinking onto the hard, wooden chair but not daring to recline against the back. Her gaze flicked from the king to the floor, uncertain where she ought to look. She settled on the floor, picking a small spot between the stone slabs to meticulously examine.
Toroth remained standing, prowling around the space like a wolf waiting to pounce. Harper felt like a rabbit, frozen and trapped in his baleful glare. “You are not from Pelenor, are you? You do not speak Pelenori, and your Common Tongue holds a strange accent.”
“No, sire.” At his silence, and his expectant glare, she continued. “I am from Caledan.”
“That is very far away. How did you come to be in Pelenor? Surely your failure to learn our tongue hinders you.”
“The way an orphan does, sire,” she replied, as Dimitrius had told her, for they had fleshed out a back story in anticipation of any questions. “I have travelled to many places, most of which I do not know the names, until I arrived here and Lord Ellarian took me into his employ. I have worked for him since.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why you?”
“I—I don’t know, sire. I only know that he spotted me and I fit the task he wished me to complete?—”
“Which was?”
“To follow a man, unseen, and report back.”
“What sort of tasks do you complete for him?”
“Following people, reporting, sending messages and retrieving them, infiltration…”
“Infiltration of?” Toroth asked sharply, circling closer.
Harper sat up straighter. “I blend in wherever Lord Ellarian requires me. In this case, a thief and his outlaws.” It was easier not to call Aedon by name, to be as cold as the king. If she thought of them too much, she was sure she would crumple and all would be lost.
“Tell me everything. I want to know precisely how you charmed the criminals that have eluded me for so long.”
Harper wet her lips nervously and forced her shaking hands to lay flat upon her knees, though she longed to fuss with them. Her clammy palms fused to the fabric.
“Keep going, Harper,” Dimitrius’s voice floated into her mind, and she saw his disembodied smile. “You’re doing brilliantly.” At his words, the tension building in her shoulders relaxed just a little.
“Yes, sire. Lord Ellarian tasked me with recovering an item of great value that was suspected to be with them. I followed them for days, to be sure that they did indeed have the item—your item. I used one of my stories to gain their trust. I pretended I was far from home, lost, and without means to provide for myself. They took me in?—”
“So easily?” Toroth interrupted sharply.
“No, sire. Some were deeply suspicious, but I ingratiated myself with the weakest of their members, those most susceptible to my story.” It made her heart hurt to speak of them so. As though it had all been a lie. Despite everything, they had taken her in, and she would not have survived without them. “It did take a couple of weeks to fully gain their trust, travelling with them, listening to their conversations, giving them small favours and reason to include me in their business. I did not get far, but far enough.”
“Then you took it?”
“Not quite, sire. Lord Ellarian was most insistent that I could not afford to fail. It was of utmost importance I not act too soon for fear of spooking them and losing your treasure forever. Besides which, I have neither magic nor strength to overcome the elf and his companions, some of whom are fearsome warriors.”
The king scoffed at that.
“When they fell soft on me, charmed by my vulnerability, I wormed my way into taking the night watch. After a few nights,I took the stone from under their noses and brought it to Lord Ellarian at once—or tried to, but the city guard intercepted me.”
The king laughed, a cold, mirthless bark. “I would not have thought it possible a scrawny thing like you could retrieve a treasure not even my entire Winged Kingsguard could find, yet here you are. Well, let it never be said that I do not reward those who are loyal to me. I have a gift for you, girl.” Toroth nodded to a servant, who walked up with a bundle in his arms.
Harper stood to receive it, awkwardly juggling the item in her arms.
“Open it.”
Harper unfolded the soft, grey fabric to reveal a thick cloak of a quality wool and weave, lined with delicate fur that would keep out any winter chill. The finely crafted silver clasp was a sigil matching her tunic—a mountain over trees and under stars.
“It is beautiful, sire,” she said in a hushed voice, not sure what else to say.
“I thank you for your boundless generosity. I am unworthy,” Dimitri whispered into her mind. She repeated the words to Toroth, who seemed satisfied at her humility.
“Do you know what the crest you wear means, girl?”
“No, sire.”
“You ought to know what you wear,” he said, frowning. “I shall have words with Lord Ellarian, who obviously does not educate his people properly.”
Harper winced, but Dimitrius’s voice was cool. “Don’t worry. I’ve been in worse trouble. I’ll be fine.”
Sorry, she thought, hoping he would hear it.
He pointed to the crest. “This is Pelenor, throughout time, and I. We are the mountain—strong and unyielding, born of the earth and reaching for the sky. We are the tree—life and vitality ever thriving. We are the stars—everlasting in our magnificence and power, always enduring.” Toroth stood tall, filled with his own esteem.
Harper dithered. Am I supposed to say something?
“Stoke his ego,” Dimitrius replied with a sigh—to her relief. “Tell him how strong and powerful he is and always shall be, or some such useless sentiment.”
“You are all of those things indeed, sire,” she said dutifully to the king. “I am honoured to have an audience with you.”
“Yes, you are. Perhaps we shall speak again.” She did not like how his eyes, his cold, dark eyes, fixed upon her with a hunger that had not been satisfied, but he turned away after a second, leaving her containing a sigh of relief. “You are dismissed. I have more important business to attend to.”
It was clear from the way his gaze had lingered that he did not wish to finish with her then, but she was glad for the interruption of his next business. She bowed and was escorted out. When she returned to the great hall, Dimitri met her with a tight-lipped smile of relief.
“Come,” he said coldly, then turned without another word. The hall had started filling with others—lords, ladies, and every manner of servant. Harper stared after him for amoment, wondering what she had done to earn his coldness, before hurriedly dodging through the throng before she lost him amongst the bobbing heads. She chased his long strides all the way back to his quarters, down cold galleries and passages, which would have had her lost in a heartbeat, until she espied the familiar door with relief.
Dimitrius closed it behind them and leaned against it, his eyes closed. Harper waited. He finally sighed and opened his eyes, looking at Harper with tired relief. “You did very well, Harper. Just as I planned. The king is placated, though I sense he is not done yet. We shall deal with him as it arises.”
She watched him. He was so hard to fathom, his mood as slippery as water.
He raised an eyebrow at her blank stare. “I apologise for being so cold, but you must understand. Out there, I have a fa?ade to present, a reputation to uphold.”
“But you’re sweet and kind behind closed doors?” she added with a bite of sarcasm.
In a flash, he was upon her, backing her to the wall. His hands crashed to the stone at either side of her head as he leaned in close, his eyes flashing and his mouth twisted in a snarl. “Do you not realise how hard I’m working to keep us both alive right now? You would already be ashes without my intervention. We balance on a precipice, Harper. Do you want to die?”
With Dimitrius suddenly so close, Harper felt a swoop of surprise, fear, and something unfamiliar—exhilaration—overtake her as his sweet, citrus scent surrounded them both. Her fingers bunched in her cloak with the shock of his advance and the sensory assault of his nearness. That tart, alluring scent wrapped around her as his gaze captured hers and refused to let go. He breathed so heavily that every warm breath ghosted over her skin, and this close, his violet gaze consumed her.
“You have no idea of the danger we are both in, Harper… from all sides. We do not leave the palace because we are not permitted. I am not permitted.” His nostrils flared. She could not look away.
“If even the slightest whiff of any of this escaped, we would be worse than dead. So I will act however I damn well need to in order to make sure I survive, as I always have. You’re welcome to your freedom once this is done, but for now, we have an act to play. So be done with playing the innocent, na?ve girl and start running with me. Stop being so open. I can read you like a book. You might not know this court, but I do. Learn how to play; otherwise, we will die.”
He stormed away, leaving her pressed against the wall and blinking after him. Harper had stopped breathing. Dizziness passed over her. She gulped in a deep breath before letting it whoosh out.
This place is full of secrets, lies, and games—with people’s lives. How do I survive it?