Chapter Seven
You don’t belong here, Katherine, but if you let me, I can help you find somewhere you can.
Master Hale’s first words echoed in my mind frequently, but never more so than when I’d made a mistake.
A simple offer as he crouched before me on the worst day of my life. The strange, tall man who should have scared me, but something about his size, the calmness in his voice and the honesty in his eyes that reminded me vividly of my father.
On that day, I’d needed my father more than ever and he wasn’t there. He never would be again, so I clung to Master Hale, foolishly hoping he wasn’t like all the others.
He had never disappointed me. It turned out I was the one who had become the disappointment.
I couldn’t rid myself of the guilt. Not even as I stood beyond those Council chambers to wait in the hall. I would have returned to the portal and Blackthorn Manor, but I didn’t know the way, not from the mages, entrance and I didn’t fancy trying to talk to Clerk Roberts again.
So, I wandered the small reading area just beyond the Council Chamber.
Finding little interest in the modest collection of poetry on the back shelves, I occupied myself by studying the painting framed above the grand fireplace. The violence depicted in vivid oil paints on the large canvas. The night King Balin the third was beheaded by his wife, a suspected sorceress and fey sympathiser.
Stories said the King had built temples to the Old Gods beneath his castle, paved with fey bones, and drank ancient creatures, blood in sacrifice to the darkness. How he’d met his end, driven mad by the dark he worshipped and by the tip of his wife’s sword.
The world was supposed to heal under a Queen’s rule, fey set free from the mines and liberated, only for her to be drowned in the west river as a Verr witch, and for her son to take the throne, leading us to the mess we were in now. To that Mage King that had ruined my life. Taken everything so easily. Who had carried on his father’s vile practices. Only to be overthrown by the Council, whom I finally understood were no better.
I wondered if it was the murder of his father that had fuelled him, or simply the madness of the darkness beneath. Had it fuelled all the others? The bloodshed and tyrannical reign of all the Mortal Kings before, who desired magic enough to forfeit their souls?
Something strange moved across my shoulder blades, sharp eyes digging into my spine.
I turned, only to see a passing of shadow at the end of the hall as the morning sun seeped back through the clouds.
‘Katherine,’ came the breathless greeting from Master Hale, as he hobbled through the chamber doors, his smile bright, shoulders pushed back with pride.
‘You did excellently.’ He grinned, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. ‘How has Alma settled?’
‘She changed again,’ I sighed, finding some relief in admitting that worry.
‘Bird?’ He frowned.
‘Cat,’ I half-winced, knowing I should be grateful. Alma as a bird left a mess everywhere; at least as a cat she had more control.
‘I’m sure her nerves will settle.’ He rummaged in his pocket before pulling out a small tin of chocolates, Alma’s favourite from the southern markets. ‘I picked these up on my travels. I’m sure they can entice her back.’
‘Thank you.’ I smiled, turning them over. If anything could convince Alma to come back, it was chocolate. I ran my thumb across the metal tin, thinking of how Alma secretly kept each one, like they were precious treasures, never having received a gift until she’d met Master Hale.
‘Blackthorn is delayed.’ He rummaged in his robe pocket again, pulling out that key and handing it over to me. I took it gingerly, and felt that it was warm from his touch. The silver was intricately carved with the swoop of knowledge runes.
How long I’d wished for such a thing, and how easily Blackthorn had handed it over. It was something even Master Hale couldn’t grant me.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered, despite knowing I was speaking those words to the wrong person as I curled both hands around the key. Unease lingered at just how quickly Blackthorn had accomplished such impossible things. Especially here.
‘I have so much I wish to tell you.’ Hale took my arm to guide me further down the hallway and away from the chamber. ‘However, you have important studies to be getting on with.’
In his usual guiding manner, Master Hale showed me the way to the mages’ doors, pointing out Blackthorn’s – the one we’d come through.
He was talking about the records halls, the libraries, the sections that might best interest me, but all I could taste was the bitterness of failure as Blackthorn’s words about the rebellion came back to haunt me.
The churning unease in my gut after seeing the Council’s hateful stares stayed with me. No matter the weight of that key in my grasp, all I could see was the empty fey quarters above, the sheet-covered body in that stairwell and how everything had fallen apart so easily.
‘I’m sorry it didn’t work,’ I whispered, trying to release some of the guilt gnawing at my bones. ‘That I wasn’t enough.’
Hale turned abruptly to face me, a solemn expression on his old face, his frail hand coming to rest on my shoulder. ‘We cannot see a decade of peace as failure, my dear.’
Peace for whom? I wanted to argue, but bit my tongue. Master Hale was trying. He was trying and that had to count for something. No matter how small his own rebellion was.
‘I have more meetings this week that I’m confident about. Peace Agreement amendments that should have happened sooner.’ His tone was soft but I could see the depth of his frown, the shadows beneath his eyes and how his old shoulders bowed under the weight of it all.
‘Was Blackthorn right about the rebellion?’ I asked, unnerved at just how unruly the world beyond these walls continued to be.
‘He would know better than me. The Blackthorns had a closer connection with the rebellion during the wars.’
That answer only troubled me further. Most who worked with the rebellion were taken care of as radicals after the wars, exiled in the name of peace to the far islands in the west. Others went underground to build up the fey rebellion again. One that was supposed to be dead.
‘If the rebels attack, Montagor and the Council won’t hold back,’ I whispered that truth, knowing I shouldn’t speak it at all. Not here.
‘If they attack, it’s because they seek a war as ardently as he does.’ Hale sighed with defeat.
‘Innocents will pay the price,’ I noted darkly. That’s all that would come from another war, the fey in the far lands suffering, being further oppressed and punished for crimes they hadn’t committed. Seen as rebels for merely possessing magic.
‘That hasn’t bothered either side before.’ Hale’s tone was clipped with irritation. I understood why, as he leaned heavily on that cane, breath rattling weakly in his chest. All the time he’d put into saving this world and it still wished only to tear itself apart. ‘Now you can help them in your own way with your partnership.’
‘You trust him.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘I do.’ He nodded without hesitation. ‘I would have called on him sooner but he’s a hard man to track down. A ghost, some would say.’
I thought Blackthorn was more than just a ghost, but I was better keeping those fears to myself as we came to the grand doors that led to the libraries reserved for mages.
Master Hale patted my arm, only the mirth in his smile didn’t distract from the regret burdening his gaze. ‘Make the bastards pay, Katherine.’
Then he left me there. I should have been excited or filled with wonder, but as I turned that key over in my hand and looked up at the grand curved arches of the library, a strange sadness consumed me.
I’d imagined myself here a hundred times. Lured by the smell of the old records, the harsh bitter scent of spelled pages. Only it wasn’t exactly as I imagined it. No, because I’d never imagined myself standing here alone.
Despite it being that way for so long, I always thought things would be different. Maybe the mages would see my potential. Maybe a paper would pique their interest, make them change their minds. Maybe allow them to see past my blood, see all the potential I possessed.
Hopeless stupid wishes that had gotten me nowhere.
I turned that key over once more before pushing it deep into my pocket. A gift I needed time to process. I had other things to work on, was the lie I told myself as I made my way back to the portal doors, not quite able to breathe until I was back in Blackthorn’s entrance hall – until I locked eyes with the annoyed feline perched on the stairs. A relieved breath huffed between my lips, suddenly exhausted.
‘I’m alive.’ I held my hands out at my sides in a show of surrender.
Alma gave me a bored blink, jumping from the third stair, tail high as she led me down the hall to a stone staircase that headed down into what smelled like the kitchens.
The clattering of someone at work and a cheery hum greeted me, as well as the delicious smell of fresh bread. William stood before a large stove, stirring something before Alma’s meow announced our presence.
‘You’re back.’ He straightened to dry his hands on his apron, flour clinging to his red curls. ‘Take a seat, I’ve just finished with lunch.’
He didn’t give me a chance to answer before he pulled a cloth away that covered a still-steaming pie, a bowl of roasted vegetables waiting next to it as he started to plate up some food at the wooden table that dominated the centre of the small brick kitchen. ‘Did you enjoy the halls?’
I slid onto the bench at the table, grooved from all the people who had sat there before. One of the planks rose so a glass of water slid until it was before me and the board returned to nail itself back down.
I noticed Alma’s saucer of water and a small fish on the table, she too a guest.
‘I hadn’t expected it to be as lonely as it was.’ I sighed, letting my finger trace the small gouges in the wood, worn so smooth with time it practically gleamed.
Alma leapt onto the bench next to me, distracting me as she pawed insistently at my bag.
I laughed softly. ‘Master Hale sent you a gift but you can’t have it until you’re back.’
Her tale swished in irritation but I petted her head and returned my attention to William.
‘Did Lord Blackthorn return?’ I asked, suddenly ravenous, remembering I’d missed breakfast as William slid a plate towards me.
‘He’s been called away on business again. You’ll find it happens a lot.’ His smile dampened as he sat on the opposite bench with his own plate.
‘I’m sorry if you got into trouble for my wandering last night.’ I sighed, hoping Blackthorn wasn’t too harsh with him.
‘Trouble?’ William laughed, shaking his head. ‘I haven’t had a telling-off from Emrys since I was ten and let a lost goat into the study. It ate his Pervanthus herb collection.’
‘He had Pervanthus herbs?’ I choked on my water. They were mythical herbs, some scrolls claiming they had immortal properties. Although, it was how young William must have been then that surprised me most. Mages didn’t take on apprentices or assistants until they were twelve.
Which made me wonder as to William’s story and just how he’d ended up here, but I shook away the thought. Those things weren’t mine to wonder about as I let my gaze drop back to the table, where I saw the stack of books to his side and papers piled next to them.
‘You’re reading about the Bracken theories?’ I asked with excitement, seeing the title of the top tome.
‘I’m trying to create a more powerful variation of the Abatrox nettle.’ He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Can I see?’ I asked, watching excitement light his eyes as he quickly picked though his notes to hand me his most recent work.
‘If you could help me understand his footnotes in section nine, I’d be eternally grateful,’ he half-pleaded, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Of course.’ I turned the papers around, reading over his first lines, seeing where he’d lost his way. Able to forget the horrid morning with the warm cosy air of the kitchen and William’s honest enthusiasm as he scribbled down my interpretation of the pages. Knowing I was glad to be here. Mad lord or not.