Chapter 10 #2
River’s voice floats around us like a spell of its own.
It thickens the air, a natural sedative.
Even the guards have grown quiet. It lets my thoughts wander and I collect all the half-ignored lessons of crude healing, stack those pieces of conversations together.
There aren’t a lot of them. When I get out, I’ll broaden my knowledge on ways to heal.
I hope I’m not lying to myself.
River grows hoarse, and I check Akilah’s pulse. Still slow, but steady. And a trace of colour has returned to her lips. I bow my head against her shoulder in relief, murmuring my thanks to the heavens.
A guard interrupts my thanksgiving. “Is he still infectious?”
I shake my head.
The redcloak lets out a relieved breath. “Visiting hours are over.”
River and I glance anxiously at our sleeping Akilah, and then we’re herded out of the cell and down the corridor.
It’s darker and damper than it was on our way in. Two masked men appear from the shadows, stopping us in the passageway. They’re haloed with metallic-scented magic, recently used. I choke on a whiff of blood and shiver. One barks, “Are these the ones?”
River grabs my arm so tight, his fingers are forming bruises. I recall the strange way the outer guards looked at our pass.
“Yes, sir,” a redcloak says.
River whimpers. I whisper in his ear, “What’s wrong?”
“Those masks—”
They pull and tug at our clothing until they find the beads and rip them off River’s belt. They look at one another darkly. “Lock them up.”
Sweating redcloaks snap their heels and push us back to Akilah’s cell, shoving us inside with rough hands. They ignore our protests and explanations, and as the metal bar grinds into place, a cold realisation settles over me.
We’re not visitors anymore.
The masked men are bad people, River keeps saying. The beads were supposed to be safe. Something must have happened . . .
Nursing Akilah is a distraction—so are the words I keep whispering to calm River: Silvius will come for us.
He will.
But can he?
I clutch my soldad.
What mess are we in? Is there any chance of salvation?
Or was that his blood I smelled?
My stomach twists and a sob tries to squeeze up my throat. I swallow it down. River looks up at me, eyes wide in the dying candlelight, and clutches my hand. His fingers are more delicate than mine, and very cold.
“Are we going to die?”
I don’t know. My breath shudders out and I pat the back of his hand.
River’s voice breaks. “I—I won’t regret it.
I’d have died on the canals anyway. You gave me another year.
” My throat hurts. “A good year. My best. I finally have a . . . family.” He smiles and it wobbles.
“I had a safe place to sleep, got paid for work. Silvius treated me like I was your little brother and he wanted to impress you.”
“River . . .”
“Do you think I was good enough to be reborn linea? Do you think I’ll be able to learn in the schools? Become a scholar?”
My whisper crackles. “That would be your biggest wish?”
“To learn. To become a great healer like you.”
“I’m not great.”
“You could’ve been. Maybe even I could’ve been.”
I sniff and hold his head against my shoulder.
It’s freezing here, but I’m warm—the only good thing about having my magic sealed is my internal heat is trapped with it. I pull Akilah and River closer, sharing my warmth. Until dawn, when Akilah stirs. “Cael? Why are you here?”
A ruckus comes down the dank corridor. Cell doors squeal open and slam shut; frightened shouts become muffled whimpers. Redcloaks swish into view, and our cell door opens. “We’re out of sacks,” one guard whispers to the other.
“Shove the last one on the youngest.”
River cries out, clutching me tightly; I pull him close. They rip him from my arms, gag us with scratchy linen cloths and shove the last sack over River’s head and his terrified eyes. Cold magic restraints bite into our wrists.
We’re dragged into blinding morning light.
The crowd is sparse today.
No one wails for us.
Megaera stands before the stage, alone, in black skirts with a sash the colour of blood. Her hood casts shadows over her face but I feel her eyes on me. She surges forward, yanking her hood back. Her face pales and her mouth forms my name.
She drops to her knees and raises her eyes. They’re dark. Darker.
I am the one who killed her father.
Magic seeps around her, black smoke. Devastated. How could I have done this? I was supposed to save him . . .
She sucks her magic inside sharply, twists on her heels and leaves with a heavy swish of her skirts.
Faces in the crowd blur until I see the face of my father, warning me what would happen if I continued using magic, if I didn’t understand; the teary glimmer in his eyes; the pleading in his voice . . .
River is crying.
Akilah whimpers.
I slam my eyes shut; my knees buckle.
River and Akilah are forced up the stairs ahead of me, trembling with fear, their every breath sharp.
They seem to know.
No one will save us.
Magic pins River’s head in place on the block. His small body writhes.
Just yesterday, he was humming lullabies. Last night, he was clutching my hand in the dark.
What have I done?
I’m choking on the gag, but I can’t even cry out. I lunge towards him. Magical chains yank me back. Pain blinds me.
Sounds squeal out of River, jerky. He’s trying to sing, trying to keep himself calm—
“HALT.”
My vision clears, and I swing my head towards the white-haired man striding up to the presiding judge.
Skriniaris Evander. He glances in our direction and his step stutters as his gaze latches on me.
His face darkens with a deep frown. He kneels before the judge and holds out the box I gave him.
“I have a copy of the magic pill that supposedly caused the death of former official Temenos. It is a fine spell indeed. Even a royal vitalian might have overlooked an adverse effect with such a rare herb as ippifras.”
The judge stares blindly ahead. “This case has been trialled.” He raises his bell.
White light shoots from the skriniaris’s hand as he blocks him from sounding the bell—the signal for the guillotine to drop. “I’d like to appeal.”
“You should have come to the courts yesterday.”
“I only learned about this last night.”
“Unfortunate. Ill-fated.”
“You’re condemning the innocent.”
The judge sets his small eyes on Skriniaris Evander and laughs.
He points across the courtyard to the great wyvern-embossed bell suspended over the well.
“The only thing that can stop this execution is the chime of the royal bell, followed by a decree from the king. As long as I have lived, that bell has never rung. Not for the most prestigious noble. It certainly won’t for an unremarkable commoner. ”
Skriniaris Evander pales and bows low. “Delay this an hour. You will regret—”
The judge rings his bell soundly and the guillotine drops.
The judge flicks his hand and River’s lifeless body and head are moved away.
I stare at the blood pooling on the wooden boards.
They come for Akilah.
I wrap my numb arms around her—
Magic whips down my back, once, twice, three times. I can’t feel the pain. I can’t hold on. Akilah is dragged through the puddle of River’s blood, sobbing.
Her head is forced onto the block. Her back heaves with uneven breaths and her eyes latch onto mine.
I can’t move. I can’t cry.
The judge rings his bell.
The blade falls.
My stomach rises up my throat—
Chimes ricochet around the courtyard, vibrating through the stage and into my bones. Bright magic zaps to the guillotine, freezing it mid-fall, a breath from ending her.
The crowd spins towards the swinging wyvern bell, awed. Skriniaris Evander remains on his knees, unsurprised, holding the evidence towards the judge, who has leapt to his feet in disbelief.
A voice booms. “A decree from the palace. All bow to receive it.”
As one, the crowd drops to their knees. Only two remain standing. The judge. Me.
“Prince Nicostratus Aetherion is a magnanimous soul,” the voice fills every inch of the courtyard. “In celebration of his upcoming birthday, the king reflects his brother’s benevolence onto the people: No executions during spring.”
I barely comprehend the words. All I glean from them is . . . Akilah is safe.
Safe.
Redcloaks pull her to her feet and we clutch one another amidst the chaos and confusion.
River’s blood is damp on her clothes and seeps into mine.
I blink.
The judge demands silence and bluntly orders us escorted from the city. Our commuted sentence: border service in the sacred forest, in the name of protecting the kingdom.
Skriniaris Evander rushes towards us, breathing hard. “I came as swiftly as I could”—he shakes his head—”too late . . . Why were you up there?”
I’m speaking, but I barely hear myself. “We visited Akilah last night. The bead pass we used—”
“Beads?” He looks surprised, confused. “Where did you get—”
“Back away,” a redcloak calls; Skriniaris Evander is forced back. He watches us go between their shoving shoulders.
Gravel crackles under rickety wheels. Cool wind slices between the bars and Akilah huddles close. Over the following hours, her condition steadily worsens. With no access even to worm truffle for temporary relief, all I can do is stroke the hair that curtains half her tears and her swollen wound.
“I just wanted to save you, Cael. You’re not supposed to be stuck with me.”
A weird little laugh leaps out of me. “I’m shameless. I want all the adventures.”
She buries a sob against my chest as we round a sharp corner. Rocky banks give way to rolling green pastures and boats moving along curving canals as we’re pulled at a brisk pace south.
“They’ll have to stop to water the horses soon,” Akilah whispers. “I’ll convince someone to let us relieve ourselves. Make a run for it.”
“You’re in no condition to run.”
“I’ll scream then. Hold him off while you get away.”
“Any more of that talk, and I’ll have to punish you.”
“Cael.”
“Shush.”
As predicted, we stop at a stream to let the horses drink. Akilah uses the last of her energy to complain loudly she needs a pee break. The redcloak approaches with dead eyes and flat lips. “Soil yourself. This cage stays locked until we reach port.”
He returns to the driver’s seat and whips the horses into a fast trot. We’re thrown so hard against the bars Akilah’s body can’t take it and she’s knocked out. I cradle her close. Her pulse is erratic—
Wind thickens around us, cold and heavy, yet I don’t even shiver. The horses whinny as they brace against the force of it. I clutch Akilah, stiffening at the strong metallic undertones. Not a natural wind. Aggressive. Insistent.
The cage rocks back and forth as the horses struggle to move a step. The redcloak cracks his whip again and again and—
A black-hooded figure spirals down to land on the cage roof. He’s a flash of movement as he jumps atop the redcloak. “Soil yourself.” He knocks him unconscious and drops him to the road. Wind dissipates as he takes control of the reins and swiftly urges the horses into a canter.
We take a side road east, bumping over rocks and releasing the scent of flowering weeds. When there’s a good distance between us and the abandoned redcloak, the hooded figure glances over his shoulder, gaze dark with relief. Our eyes lock and I take a strangely steady breath.
He came.
He returns his focus to the road and pushes the horses on.
We wend through narrow lanes, up over the hills and around forested cliffs.
At an empty hunting cabin, magic bursts the cage lock and Silvius carries Akilah, still unconscious, inside.
A sliver of sunlight sneaks in through dusty glass to reveal a stone fireplace, cobwebbed chairs, and a dented bench.
Damp wood and old soot and a glass jar of forgotten nuts surrounded by mouse droppings.
I sweep my cloak over the bench and Silvius settles Akilah atop it.
“Let me unseal you,” he says, and instinctively I laugh, shaking my head.
Silvius frowns. “It won’t cost me much.” He reaches up and thumbs my forehead. “I’ve more magic than most.”
I sidestep, laughing more vigorously.
I capture his thumb and hold tight, voice dancing, light. “Don’t. Father was right. Look what happened to Akilah already. To River. How dare I try to heal again.”
“You’ll leave your friend like this?” Silvius says.
I lower his fingers towards Akilah. “I’ll teach you how to help her.”
He searches my eyes, then inclines his head.
I scour the forest for herbs and make them into a tea. This should help against the infection, but it would be better if . . . I look over tendrils of steam to Silvius watching the pot. “Have you had iqi husk tea recently?”
His eyes lift to mine. “Every day.”
I can’t hold his gaze; quickly focus on filtering the tea. When it’s ready, he drinks the bitter concoction and I walk him through the steps. He calls up a green flame and channels it through her. When the flame is exhausted, I read her pulse.
Silvius touches my shoulder. “Will she be alright? Are you?”
I force myself to my feet, and my voice slides out merrily. “She’ll wake up soon.”
We move out into the fresh air, Silvius unsure what to say, where to start, as I skip towards an outcrop overlooking forest and farmland.
There are two ancient luminariums in the valleys, along with a dozen rivers and canals crisscrossing the land.
Our legs swing over the edge, and the freedom of it has me giggling. From the cage to this.
My gaze falls on the canal where Akilah and I had struggled to manoeuvre Quin’s boat, where vespertines attacked us, where Silvius saved the day and . . . where we adopted River.
“I’m sorry,” Silvius murmurs.
My fingers dig against rock as I laugh harder.
He shifts his arm in an awkward way that has my laughter turning into hiccups. I grab his wrist and read his pulse. He’s injured.
He pulls back. “It’s nothing.” I command him to summon thornwort to his palm and he curls his fingers closed. “Let me suffer.”
The thickness of his remorse has my mouth contorting into a strange smile. He wants to feel this pain. Needs to.
I shift and snicker at the snaking river far below my feet. “How did you do it? Arrange a palace decree?”
Silvius cranes his neck towards wispy clouds and a flock of dark birds. “I asked my brother for help.”
The granite rubs hard against my fingernails, a strange tickle coming with it. My laughter comes out so hard it sounds tinny. “Let me guess. I think I know who your brother is.”
Silvius lifts my hand that lies between us and blows on the scratched tips.