Chapter 18
évandre
Sleeping where I do on the tallest remaining section of the wall, I am the first to sleep but the last to wake. As soon as the light dips low enough behind the trees, I blink open my eyes and stretch out my wings, shaking out the stiffness of the day spent as stone.
The princess is gone.
Raban and Corvin are already searching every nook and cranny in the castle, but I don’t need to search. I could tell from the way she bid us sleep well last night what she had in mind.
I don’t blame her. Of course she wants to return to her home. That’s only natural. I fear that once she finds the place she used to call home, she may find it no longer feels like a good fit, however.
If she ever makes it through the woods.
I’ve never been beyond the castle, but I have watched the woods grow up to swallow the fair lands that used to surround Havenrock. I do not know how far they stretch, but it’s further than I can see from the tops of the walls.
Once upon a time there were well worn roads leading out in every direction to lands far away and towns nearby. The people who lived here would trade and communicate with peoples from all the lands surrounding us. Now we stand alone amid the monsters, the last bastions of that forgotten time.
“She is gone,” I call to the others.
Raban passes his hand across his face in disbelief. “Why would she leave?”
Corvin snorts. “She probably stole the treasure and left while we were sleeping.”
A jolt of alarm spears through me, and I spread my wings and float down to the courtyard, hurrying to the hidden trapdoor where we store the gold and jewels rescued from looters.
I was right about her, though. The treasure is untouched.
I breathe a sigh of relief, though I hardly know what we are keeping it for.
Tradition I suppose. For a sense of purpose. What else are we good for any longer?
“I told you she was not a thief,” Raban says to Corvin hotly. I can see he had already grown attached soon after we found her. It wasn’t lost on me the way he tripped over himself in answering her questions or the way he looked longingly at her form in the water.
At first I thought it was excitement in finding a new princess to care for, a renewed sense of purpose. But the way he gazed at her lithe body and womanly curves had nothing to do with caregiving and everything to do with a different sort of desire.
“Well she’s a fool. What business has a princess traveling alone through the woods?” retorts Corvin.
“We shouldn’t have let her go.”
“It was her choice to make,” I tell Raban gently. “We could not have stopped her.”
He sighs. “You’re right. But I hate to think of her out there alone.”
“She can’t die,” says Corvin.
“There are worse things than dying.”
Time to distract them or they’ll end in an argument.
The two see the world very differently, and now that there are only the three of us and the hounds left, it’s often up to me to come between them when they disagree.
“Come, we have been lax lately. A visitor has reminded me that it has been an age since we did any work on the place, and there is stone to be cut and drains to be maintained and wood to collect.”
“What’s the point?” Corvin sighs. “It may be another hundred years before anyone else comes along and by then we’ll all be rubble.
“We can’t think like that, or we may as well turn to rubble now.”
“I will fetch the wood,” Raban says helpfully.
“Good. Then I will cut the stone, unless you had rather do it?” I say to Corvin.
He rolls his eyes. “I will unclog the drains. I know you don’t like to get your hands dirty. But I want you to know I see the way you manipulated me into volunteering for the nastiest task.”
“I will gladly do it.”
“You say that, but last time I let you do it, you whined for a week about the dirt under your nails.”
I hold my hands out to inspect them, but they are fastidiously clean. “It’s only that claws do not get dirty so easily.”
Corvin only rolls his eyes, but he gets the brush we use to clean the drains and soon is occupied with his task. Raban whistles for the hounds and they follow him to the gates, noses down, sniffing the ground. They are missing our visitor too, I think.
I try to put her out of my mind, but it is impossible. I wish we had more time to ask about her story. Where did she come from? How did she end up in the forest alone?
When I have cut six of the eroded stone slabs down into smaller bricks, ready for use, I stack them aside out of the weather and leap to the top of the wall to check on Raban.
When I cannot see him straight away I frown, squinting into the darkness beneath the trees.
He must have gone right to the edge of our boundary, stretching against the ties that bind us to our place.
Perhaps there was not much kindling to be found.
Hours later, when he still has not returned, I give up on the stone and go to help Corvin with the last of the drains. The green sludge already collected in the bucket is an indication of how long it has been since we did proper maintenance around here.
I grimace. “Can I help?”
He straightens to his knees and slops the mucky brush into the bucket, dislodging another lump of algae. “You have impeccable timing. That is the last of it.”
I should feel more guilty, but at least his sour mood has lifted. Sometimes he needs a distraction. “Has Raban returned yet?”
Corvin frowns. “I thought he must be helping you. What could take so long?”
I have been thinking the same thing.
I fetch water for Corvin to wash his hands, and we both set out beyond the walls.
As soon as we go more than a few feet from the structure, the pull begins, a tug in my chest, making each step feel weighted as if a rope tethers me to the castle on a pulley.
After many feet the resistance increases, and eventually it becomes impossible to go further.
“Raban!” I call. “Are you out here?”
There’s a bark and Knochenwolf bursts through the trees, carrying a large stick in his jaws.
He grins at me around his prize, drool dribbling from the sides of his mouth.
A moment later the others appear. Raban looks a little sheepish.
“Oh, I thought that was you calling. Is it nearly dawn already? I lost track of time.”
I give him a knowing look. “Is that right?”
He lifts the stack of wood in his arms. “Slim pickings tonight.”
The ground is covered with perfectly good sticks, but I let it drop. We all wish to know what has happened to the princess, but I doubt he will find a trace of her anywhere within our reach.
We’re all quiet as the night ends. I don’t ask what the others are thinking of.
I know it is her. If only we had another chance, perhaps we could show her life here with us would not be so bad.
Of course, the castle is in poor condition and there are piteous few of the creature comforts a princess like her would be used to.
I cannot blame her for wanting to leave.
All the more reason to redouble our efforts to put the place to rights.
There may not be many more opportunities, but I have to hold out hope that there might be at least one more visitor, one more chance for us to fulfil our true purpose.