24. Maddy
Chapter 24
Maddy
I could lie about why I asked Kain to watch over me while I use my memory magic. Or I could be honest with myself and admit that it's because I want him to see more of me.
The way he looked at me when he saw me use it before is now something I crave. I want to dominate his thoughts the way he's filling mine. Anything I can do that impresses him, or makes me stand out, I want to do it.
I don't really know where to start, and I'm probably in the gallery for about an hour before I find a memory that has any mention of ships. It's a memory of an emissary talking to my mother, and I'm over in the corner, listening on her instructions, so that I can record everything that was said.
He's delivering a small chest to my parents. It's mostly full of scrolls and a couple of sparkling things I can't see from where I'm pretending to sew. I spent a lot of my formative years pretending to sew or standing behind curtains.
I concentrate on what the emissary is saying when my mother asks him how his journey was.
"Very comfortable, thank you, my queen," he answers. "The Shadow Court's royal ship is really very well appointed. I doubt it can be bested in finery."
My mother straightens, and I see competition flare in her eyes. "I'm sure our royal boat can compete," she says silkily.
The emissary nods and smiles, placating her. "You have a new ship, do you not?"
"Indeed. The Fjardviggr is the talk of Yggdrasil shipbuilders," my mother answers.
I lean forward inside the memory. Come on, tell us what the old ship was called. Tell us what the ship before was named when the vault was created.
"Yes, well, Fjardbroga was in need of replacement," the emissary says.
A thrill of excitement goes through me.
I repeat the name: Fjardbroga .
I wait a few minutes more, to see if the emissary mentions the Shadow Court ship name. He doesn't. He does, however, mention Orgid's family name.
The emissary keeps talking, and it doesn't take me long to realize that Orgid's father is clearly an eminent lord. This doesn't explain how Inga came to be friends with him, but it is interesting. I've never brought myself to search for Orgid's family. Maybe I have dirt on them in here somewhere, something I could use?
For a beat, I want to look, but I stop myself.
I'm going to beat Orgid and Inga with my own strength, the way Thyrvi and I fight, not the way my parents use information as a weapon.
I think of Freydis in the mirror and what she asked me to look up. It would take me seconds. Then tonight I could go back to the mirror, open it up, call Freydis, and tell her exactly what she wants to know. I could try to make her happy.
But the fire in my belly leaps and roars at the thought, as though in protest.
I won't help them. I won't let them use me anymore. I can't.
And I won't use that same power against my own enemies. I don't want to be strong that way.
It's a blessedly easy decision to make, and I head to the sculpture room without a whisper of regret.
I commit my last few days' learnings to memory, creating two new sculptures, one containing all of the interesting things I've learned about archery and bow design, all of the rooks, their val-tivars , and everything else I can remember about them at that point.
Once the two new statues are made, I return to the Battleyard and reality, and I'm pleased when I see that Kain isn't watching the pathway leading up to the Battleyard.
He's watching me instead.
Thyrvi's still prowling around in her protective circle, so I imagine he didn't think vigilance was particularly required. He moves back over to me slowly as I stand.
"How do you do it?" he says.
"What do you mean?" I ask. "You see how I do it."
"No, I mean, how do you store memories? How do you access memories? How does it work? What do you do all that time inside your head?"
I was away for some time, and my sitting still for more than an hour must seem strange to him.
I hesitate. But having now told Thyrvi and Sarra since getting here what happens inside my mind, the block is somewhat lessened. And besides, I've already let him in. Why shouldn't I tell him now?
"It's like a gallery," I say.
"A gallery," he repeats.
"Yes, a giant ice sculpture gallery. And I have a sculpting room with jets of water, and I relive the memory, and the jets move, and it's sort of like a dance I control with my hands. And then at the end, there's a statue made of ice."
He's staring at me, soft flames flickering in the bottoms of his irises.
"And then the statue gets stored in an endless, icy corridor. When I want to recall something, I think about it, and the statues appear before me. I touch them, and I can see the memory stored inside."
He says nothing, just continues to stare at me. After a while, his intense scrutiny makes me feel slightly uncomfortable.
"I found something," I say, mostly to bring it to an end.
He raises his brows, his only movement.
"A ship name." I swear his shoulders tense, which isn't the reaction I was expecting. I thought I'd see some sort of relief. "The original Ice Court ship."
He nods sharply. Again, not really what I was expecting.
"When do you want to go and try it? Shall we wait until we have all the ship names?" I ask. Part of me wants to go scurrying about in the catacombs with him. Any time alone with him, especially at night, is something I crave.
As though reading my mind, he takes a step back. "When will you look for another?" he asks.
I swallow, because I'm not sure. Right now, Kain feeds the fire that has sparked to life inside me. When I'm around him, it roars higher, with hope and strength and confidence. All things I associate so strongly with him now.
The version of Kain that I know is fierce and slightly violent, perhaps, but not murderous.
The image of Branka flashes into my head, but I force it away. That's not murder. I already came to terms with that.
But there is a side to him I know I haven't seen, and I will be forced to face it when he has what he wants. I know he's promised me that he won't use the helm until I get my wings and become a full Valkyrie. And I'm still trying to convince myself that I can find out what he is seeking revenge for, and try to talk him out of it.
But the truth is, we both know there's no way this ends well.
"I'll look for another one tomorrow," I find myself saying. I have no idea why I've just committed to this, other than the fact that I want to spend more time with him. I want him to want me, to need me. It's dangerous and I know it, but I can't help it.
He nods. "I'll see you here, same time tomorrow."