Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
“W hat the fuck were you thinking?” I demanded, glaring at Moll so hard it was a wonder I didn't burst a blood vessel in my eye. I’d sent the little girl home a few minutes before and all but dragged Molly inside, but so far, she hadn’t said a word in her own defense.
Even now, she wouldn't meet my gaze as she made a big show of wiping some non-existent crumbs off the kitchen counter.
“I don't know what you expect,” she finally mumbled. “I'm locked in the house like a prisoner all day. I tried to stay busy by cleaning and making the place look nice—not that you noticed—but sometimes my thoughts start to swirl, and I just needed to—he’s just so close, and I—” she broke off and stopped fussing at the kitchen counter, shoulders slumping.
I knew what she was thinking, but didn't want to say out loud.
As someone who struggled with my own dark thoughts, I couldn't blame her for letting hers spiral. She'd been through something terrifying, and I’d left her alone—again—a few hundred yards or so away from where her attacker lived.
The anger left me in one fell swoop, leaving behind a deep well of sadness for my friend.
“I get it Moll, I do. At least tell me you didn't talk to her the whole time she was here? Cause we can just say that it was me talking when I got back, and the kid was mistaken, or that you had one slip-up or something.”
She turned to face me, and by the mulish tilt of her chin I knew...
“Oh, Molly,” I whispered, a wave of nausea rolling through my belly. This was bad, so fucking bad.
“It wasn’t on purpose.” She jerked a thumb at a bowl of purple berries sitting on the table. “I didn't think I'd run into anybody, I saw the bushes out back and thought I could surprise you with a pie. When I went out there, the little girl came up behind me and heard me humming. She asked what song it was, and the words came out before I could stop them. But don't worry,” she said, holding up her hands before I could respond, “It’s going to be fine. I told her that I was under the spell of an evil Whisper who had made it so that only special children could hear my voice when I spoke, but if those special children told anyone, the spell would turn me into a frog like that story you told me one time. She totally bought it, and she likes me a lot. She definitely doesn’t want me to turn into a frog.” She smiled, as if she’d really done something great, and didn’t just potentially fuck us both over.
I folded my arms over my chest and squinted at her. “So basically, worst case, she tells someone and we bring suspicion down on us both. And best case, you told a six-year-old girl that you were cursed and if she never sees you again—scratch that— when she never sees you again, she’ll think you got turned into a frog because of her?”
She stared at me blankly in silence.
I ran my hands over my hair. “What were you thinking, Moll? We’re already in a terrible position, so why not drag some local children down with us while we’re at it?” I dropped down into the nearest chair at the kitchen table and leaned forward to rest my head in my hands.
Her eyes flashed with rare fury. “You know what, Ella ? You knew what you were getting when you decided that you wanted to be my best friend,” Moll said, suddenly indignant, raising her hands like she was on a stage. “I hate being alone. I need people, and they need me. I'm like a star, beaming golden light all over everything around me. It’s a beacon people are drawn to. I can’t help it. I'm doing my best here to stay quiet, but it’s hard .”
I stared at her. She was indeed my best friend, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t flawed. “You know what else is hard, Moll? The edge of the axe that will separate our head from our necks if we get caught.” I slapped my hand on the table, and she jumped.
Damn it. I pressed my fingers to my eyes and took a slow breath. She wasn’t wrong about the way she drew people to her—it was the Gods’ honest truth. But a darker truth?
We were on borrowed time. If I didn't get us out of here, Molly was going to get us both killed.
I scrubbed at my tired eyes and nodded. “Just…promise me it won't happen again. If the little girl comes around, send her away. We need to buy ourselves a couple more days.” I stared at my friend, her eyes were wide and maybe a bit fearful, and I felt bad for that with everything she’d been through. But better for her to be afraid than dead. “I’ll explain it all when I get home later, but I think I found our way out of here. I've got to go and meet with Bertrand. You stay here and work on your pie. Do not leave the hut…Pinky swear?”
Molly nodded, looking relieved to be off the hook. “Pinky swear.”
We went through the motions, and then I made my way toward the front door, hesitant to leave even for a moment, because I knew her. I knew her penchant for drawing too much attention. But I had no choice.
Between my run-in with Duncan and my meeting with the O'Donnellys, I’d already been through the mental ringer. Seeing Moll outside with that little girl had put me perilously close to losing my mind.
I took my time heading to the falcon's mew, where Bertrand would be waiting for me. By the time I reached the large stone enclosure, I'd managed to calm my racing heart and mind down—at least a little. It was important that the old falconer saw me as capable and trustworthy, not freaking out on my first day with him.
He stood just outside the open door as I made my way toward him, up the beaten walkway.
“Good morning, Bertrand,” I called with a wave. His bushy brows furrowed, and he glanced up at the sun. “Good to see you again and finally meet you formally.”
“Hardly morning now,” he said, glancing up at the sun, “but apparently only some of us are required to work a full day.”
Not a great start.
I cleared my throat as I closed the distance between us. “Prince Duncan was kind enough to allow me a bit of time to get my affairs in order and all our stuff stowed away at the hut, but I'm yours for the rest of the day, so feel free to hand off all the dirty work.”
I gave him my most charming smile, which clearly didn't register because he turned his back on me and headed inside the mew without a word. I followed and tried not to take his obvious disdain to heart. If someone was trying to take my job, I probably wouldn't be too thrilled either.
“This is the mew,” Bertrand said, waving a hand around the open space.
I let out a low whistle as I took in my surroundings. It was massive, bigger than any house I'd ever seen in The Hollow, with various nests and birdhouses dotting the space, tucked among the rafters. There were bowls full of meat, as well as posts for the falcons to sharpen their beaks on. What was notably missing, though, were the birds themselves. Not a single falcon roosted in the mew.
Fetch pecked at my hair, and I almost wondered if he was asking me the same question I was about to pose to Bertrand myself.
“This place is great. But where are all the birds?”
Bertrand rubbed at his nose and then let out a sigh. “Working right now. Everybody’s got to earn their keep,” he added pointedly. “I'll call them in shortly for you to meet them.”
“What sort of work are they doing? Hunting?” It seemed strange to call it work if it was indeed a hunt.
Bertrand gave a low grunt. “Let's just call it communications and leave it at that.”
I frowned, wondering how I was expected to learn about falconry within the palace if he was unwilling to share things with me. I forced a smile and tried to keep my tone light.
“Interesting. Are they carrying messages?”
“That, among other things,” Bertrand acknowledged, clearly put out at my pressuring him. He made his way over to a roughly hewn oak desk tucked in the corner. There was a large leather-bound book square in the center, along with a jar of ink and a feather quill pen.
He tapped the book with a dirty thumbnail.
“If anything should ever happen to me, this has all the information you need. The names of the birds, the commands they respond to, what they prefer to eat, any illnesses they've suffered, and some notes about their disposition as well. It's also a record of all the correspondence I’ve sent and received through the falcons.”
I raised my brows in surprise and true interest. “Wow, that's amazing.”
“It is quite a feat.” He looked like he didn't want to say more, but I could tell by the note of pride in his voice that there was a part of him that wanted to share his accomplishments. “You might as well take a look. You're going to have to see if you can read my chicken scratch eventually anyway,” he mumbled as he tugged the cover of the book open and flipped to a random page.
He tapped a finger at the top line. “So here you can see that Shira was sent out in the morning to do a recon mission to see if there were any flying mantises within a certain distance of Alabaster since the recent attack. She would’ve come back with warning cries if she spotted any.”
“But how would you know where they were?” I said, blinking in confusion.
“Of course you know that the sorcerer is a Whisper?”
I nodded.
“He has the ability to communicate with animals in some sense, among other things.”
My heart skidded to a stop as I stared at him open mouthed. “Relyk can talk to animals?”
I’d seen plenty of Whispers before, even in the palace the night of the ball, but someone with that magnitude of power at their disposal was the stuff of children's stories or centuries long past. He could heal wounds as grave as the king’s, and speak to animals? It seemed unfair that he would have so many abilities.
Bertrand grimaced. “I’d say ‘Talk to animals’ is overstating it. He can…exert his control over them in some way, and sense what they’re thinking and feeling. I myself have a strong affinity with the falcons. Do you not have that with yours?”
“Sometimes I think we can read each other's minds,” I said with a nod, relieved that Relyk didn’t have some pack of talking bird spies out on the hunt for Moll. I was already worried about her interaction with the neighbor girl. If we had to be on guard even amongst the bees and the birds, I’d be a nervous wreck from sunup to sundown.
Fetch scuttled along my shoulder to poke at my hair again.
“Go ahead, scope the place out,” I said, following the words with a short, sharp whistle. He launched off his perch on my shoulder, and flew straight up into the rafters, circling the massive space around us, getting the lay of the land before parking it on a thirty-foot-tall pole with fake branches made to look like a tree.
I did a slow turn, taking it all in. “I gotta be honest, this is nicer than most people's houses.”
Bertrand agreed with a low hum. “They're a good lot though, my birds, and they earn their keep. Come on, I’d say it's time you meet them,” he said.
He made his way towards the door, and I followed behind. He let out a series of whistles in varying tones and then one longer cadence whistle that sounded more like a part of a song. I cocked my head and studied him.
“What was that last one? Is it special?” I asked.
His cheeks went ruddy and he cleared his throat. “Aye, that one's for Bonnie. She's a Gyrfalcon with a bit of an attitude problem. If I just call to her like the others, she'll play coy. I have to sing a sweet song to her like some young buck courting.” He let out of harumph and then wiggled a pinky in one ear. “It's a bit ridiculous if you ask me. But again, she earns her keep, so I work with her.”
We stood in silence for over a minute and I was about to start babbling when the familiar sound of wings flapping reached my ears. I looked up to see one, two, three then four birds coming from all directions.
The first to reach Bertrand's extended arm was a peregrine falcon, similarly colored as Fetch. Creamy belly flecked with spots, with a bright yellow beak and legs. She landed on Bertrand’s arm lightly, a graceful and deft flier. “This one here is Shira. She's one of two peregrines, but she's the one with a scar on her beak. Eamon is also a peregrine, but a bit plumper. They did the exhibition.” As if he'd heard his name called, a similarly speckled falcon landed beside Shira, landing much more clumsily, bumping her to the side to her squawk of dismay.
He introduced me to the others as they came, one landing on his left shoulder, one landing on his right. There were four so far, but none were named Bonnie. I asked him about it and he let out a snort.
“She'll take her sweet time, that one. I'll probably have to call her again.”
Part of me liked her already, maybe because she reminded me of Moll.
“Let's bring them in and introduce them to Fetch. We'll come back and try again for Bonnie in a few,” he said. He walked into the mew and the falcons instantly sensed Fetch's presence as they looked up almost in unison.
“Go on then,” Bertrand said, lifting his arms and encouraging them to meet their new friend. The birds flew around the space and Fetch joined in. The easy camaraderie between them made me feel guilty for a moment that I'd never managed to find Fetch a partner in crime. Then again, like everything else, falcons were in short supply in The Hollow. As far as I knew, I was the only person who had one.
Bertrand stuck his head out the door of the mew and repeated Bonnie's song, only this time she didn't delay.
A big, beautiful, snow-white falcon came soaring towards us, and her beauty took my breath away. She was making a beeline for Bertrand, but then seemed to slow in mid-flight as she caught sight of me, and, just before she reached his extended forearm, she veered right and landed directly on my shoulder.
I craned my neck to look up at her, and got lost in her keen, onyx eyes. For a long moment, the bird and I just stared at one another until Bertrand's grunt broke that spell.
“Fickle fowl,” he muttered under his breath before stalking back into the mew.
Apparently Bertrand knew how to hold a grudge, because his attitude didn't change over the next few hours. Of course, it probably didn't help that Bonnie barely left my shoulder, except to flit off and get her share of some entrails he'd laid out for the birds, then for a scant moment to meet Fetch.
I was glad to see that Fetch didn't seem to harbor any feelings of jealousy towards her, because it would have been a very long day having to deal with two grumpy old men.
As it stood, my back was sore from cleaning every hidden nook and cranny of the mew that I was pretty sure hadn't been cleaned at any point in Bertrand's lifetime. By the time the sun started to set, I'd spent the vast majority of my first training day scrubbing bird shit with Bonnie heavy on one of my shoulders. I only hoped she would get over her crush soon.
I'd probably wind up scrubbing Bertrand's toilets if she didn’t.
“Apprentice. I'm done for the day. You can finish up there and head out too,” the old falconer said, the most he'd spoken to me in hours.
“Thanks,” I set down my scrub brush and met his gaze. “Bertrand, I'm sure Bonnie is just trying to make you jealous or is curious about the new kid in town. By tomorrow, she'll be over me, like most people I meet,” I tried my wide smile one more time.
“Probably.” He glanced down at his watch. “I need to go. I've got to give my wife her medicine.”
I blinked and wondered if maybe his shortness with me had nothing to do with Bonnie, and more to do with worry over his wife. “Is she…ill?”
He raked a hand through his sparse white hair and shook his head. “Chronic back pain, something between the bones. There's not much even the healers can do, but young Prince Duncan sends a salve that helps. We can only put it on once a day, but it eases Marjorie’s pain. The rest of the time, though…” he trailed off and then snapped his mouth shut as if he caught himself saying more than he'd meant to.
Moved by his clear concern for his wife, I instinctively reached out and took his hand. My father had suffered at the end, and it had been…the worst thing in my life up till then to see that happen to the person I loved best. “I'm so very sorry she's suffering, Bertrand. That must be terrible to watch.”
He lifted his head and eyed me before nodding. “I actually believe you mean that. See you tomorrow bright and early this time. Make sure you latch the door behind you when you leave.”
He reached for his coat and hat and waddled out of the mew. I finished up the corner I'd been scrubbing as instructed, and then turned to look up at Bonnie, still perched on my shoulder and staring at me intently.
“Well, Miss Bonnie, it's time for us both to get some rest. But it was very nice meeting you.”
She leaned in and touched her snow-white beak to my nose. If I didn't know better, I would think it was a kiss.
“Oh, you're a charmer, aren't you?” I whispered.
She didn’t reply, but she did fly off into the rafters as if she'd understood everything I'd said. Bonnie was as smart as she was beautiful.
As soon as she vacated my shoulder, Fetch fluttered down to take her place, far lighter, which was greatly appreciated. “Hey there, buddy. Did you have a fun day with your new friends?” He wobbled his head back and forth and made a low chortle deep in his throat. “Good. Me too. Or, at least it ended better than it started.”
Once I was sure all the birds were inside, I closed the door of the mew and latched it as Bertrand had told me to do. Sudden footsteps behind me had me wheeling around in surprise.
Had he forgotten something?
When I looked up, it was to find a young servant girl from the palace standing there. “Oh, hello there. Bertrand is gone for the night.”
“Good evening,” she said with a pleasant smile. “The king will be going on a hunt in the Northwest Forest tomorrow, and I’m to tell you that you’re to accompany him.”
My scalp tingled, and my face went hot. The last thing I needed was more time near the king. Alone was even worse.
“Me? Are you certain?” I stammered. “I’m brand new and don’t even know the grounds yet. I don’t think I’d be much help to him on a hunt.”
She shrugged and held out a note. “Sorcerer Relyk said King Heinrich requested your presence by name, it is written here. Ella the Falconer Apprentice.” I glanced down at my scrawled name as she frowned and cocked her head. “Is that a problem?”
Fuck me.
“Just the two of us? Is that the norm?”
Understanding dawned on her young face and she shook her head. “No, no! The king doesn't hunt alone and especially won't be doing it, or anything else, without guards, given the recent attempt on his life. Prince Duncan will be there with Sir Crispin, along with Bertrand, and Sorcerer Relyk, of course.”
Of course.
I held back the full body sigh of relief and managed a wobbly smile. “Alright, then. What time?”
“They will meet you here at dawn.”
As I made my way back toward the hut a short while later, the nausea that rose with the possibility of going on a hunt alone in the woods with Prince Heinrich faded, but quick on its heels came a whole other sort of nervousness.
Why had he requested my presence at all? How did he even remember my name? He wasn’t supposed to notice my existence, never mind invite me personally along to an event of any sort. I was trying to lay low, but it clearly wasn’t working. Not to mention, I would also have to manage Prince Duncan and the attraction between us.
The attraction wasn’t the worst part though, not really. Every time I was around him, two thoughts had me in a constant state of suspended fear.
Why had he kept my secret so far?
And what if he decided to stop?