Chapter 34 Wren #2
The door opens again, and in comes one of Evander’s knights. I’ve sparred with him before. Riverspire, I think. He’s foregone the armour today, dressing more like a traveller.
“Sire,” he says, giving a short nod of the head instead of a bow. He’s clearly trying to remain inconspicuous. “The mark has returned.”
I smirk at Evander. “Just here for the bard, hmm?”
“Another time,” he says, getting to his feet. “Would you accompany us? You’re off duty, of course, so feel free to refuse—”
I’m terrified that it could be another fey they’ve cornered, someone even more innocent than Garron, but I have to follow. I don’t want Evander doing anything dangerous if I can alleviate the risk somewhat. Cass would be devastated if something happened to his brother.
“Of course.”
He nods. The three of us slip out of the tavern and head around back. Magda keeps a series of huts here that she rents to passing travellers. A light burns in one of them.
Evander indicates for Riverspire to cover the back. There’s only one door, but a window could be used as an escape route in a hurry. Riverspire slips from his side. Evander draws his sword, and I follow suit.
He tries the door. It’s unlatched. It pushes open easily.
“Halt,” he says, “In the name of the Queen.”
The single occupant shrieks and drops down to her knees. She’s small and light, her hair a brownish grey, the rest of her appearance beyond ordinary.
But the glamour marks are all over her, a faint golden ripple, like sunlight through water. She looks this way on purpose.
Evander stares her down. He senses something amiss, too.
“Are you fey?” he asks.
The woman trembles. He brings his blade towards her. “Yes,” she whispers.
My heart sinks. If only I could tear out my ability to lie, and give it to her, lie on her behalf—
“Remove your glamour,” Evander demands.
Her disguise falls away like a gossamer curtain. Underneath, a reed-slim stately woman emerges. Her skin is ice-blue, her eyes pure violet. Four long wings uncurl along her back, faint and membranous, like a dragonfly’s.
Evander sucks in a breath. Is he horrified, or does he find her as beautiful as I do?
“What’s your purpose in these lands?” he asks her.
Her eyes dart to a satchel on the nearby table. Evander follows her gaze and gestures to me to investigate it. Knowing that there could be all manner of items inside, I approach it carefully, but it only gives off the faintest whiff of magic, the type that I might feel inside—
An apothecary. The satchel is filled with herbs and vials. Feverfew, willowbark, yarrow, valerian, silverleaf…
“Healing supplies,” I announce.
“I’m a healer,” says the fey woman.
Evander doesn’t loosen his grip. “And what do you ask in return for your services?”
“Only that which people can give,” she says. “A little coin, if I need it. Food, equipment. Some pay me in blood or dreams if they have nothing else. I have a gift. I believe I am duty-bound to share it.”
The steel in Evander’s eyes dissipates, just a fraction. Skepticism remains. “Why leave the forest?” he asks. “You know the penalty.”
“Have you ever lived inside a cage?” she asks him. “The Duskfen is a vast one, but it is a cage nonetheless. I have wings, Your Highnesss. I was made to fly.”
Evander sighs. His face is tired and grey. This woman is nothing like Garron. She has done him no wrong.
Please, I want to beg him, don’t do this.
I’m trying to calculate a way out, a distraction I can cause. Maybe some of these potions, if I accidentally knock them together, might cause a distraction—
Cassiel would know.
I do not.
“Do you know who blinded Prince Cassiel?” Evander asks.
The fey shakes her head. “No.”
“Do you have any cures for blindness?”
“None that Your Highness has not already tried.”
I frown at that, but Evander says nothing. He looks around the rest of the humble hut. There’s no danger here, nothing that paints her as a criminal.
That shouldn’t matter to him, of course. She’s a fey out of the forest. Her very presence is criminal.
“One more thing,” Evander says. “Do you know any secrets that would benefit me to know—anything that could threaten me, or my family?”
Slowly, she shakes her head. “I do not.”
“Put your glamour back on,” he tells her.
“What?”
“Your glamour,” he repeats. “Put it back on.”
She shoots me a look, as if waiting for the trick. I don’t think she recognises me for what I am, but she’s appealing to me anyway. Does he mean what he says?
I nod.
Her glamour washes over her again.
Evander sheathes his sword. “There’s nothing to see here,” he says. “Our intel was wrong. Just a harmless healer, passing through. Come, Thornvale. We wouldn’t want to ruin the rest of your night off.”
I don’t tarry longer. I cast her a fleeting look, and head back outside. Riverspire meets us at the door. I’m not sure what he’s seen or overheard.
“Sire?” he prompts.
“Nothing to see here,” he tells him.
A light smile dusts Riverspire’s cheeks. “Very good, Sire.”
We head back into the tavern. Riverspire goes to order a round of drinks. I wait until he’s out of earshot.
“Why take me?” I ask Evander.
“Come again?”
“Why ask me to come with you, if you knew that there was a chance you’d let her go? You could have ordered me to stay behind.”
“To be honest, Wren, I didn’t think you’d listen.”
I smile. I’m not sure he’s ever used my name before. “Is that the only reason?”
“I suppose I wanted to see what sort of person you really were,” he says.
“And now I know what sort of person you are.”
“Indeed.” Evander takes his tankard from Riverspire as he returns. “And what do you think of me now, Thornvale?”
I glance at Riverspire, unsure how much I’m allowed to reveal in front of him. “You may talk plainly in front of me,” Riverspire says. “I know everything and nothing.”
I smile at that, too. “I didn’t think any of the royal family would be sympathetic to the fey. Especially after—”
“The fey have power,” Evander interrupts.
“The sort that we will never wield. It’s natural to be scared of anything with that kind of potential.
But humans can do awful things too. I cannot hate all of them.
And, of course, uniquely—they cannot lie.
I could not, in good conscience, execute a harmless healer.
I daresay they’ll accomplish far more good in the world than I will. ”
I wonder if his father thought the same, or if his mother is anywhere close to sharing his beliefs. My grandmother has never shared the specifics with me about my father’s demise, only that the late king killed him, and that he was a good man who posed no threat to him.
She can’t lie, so it must be true.
“I’m sorry about your son,” King Leonitus said before my grandmother killed him. “I took no joy in his demise.”
I think my grandma took joy in his, or at least satisfaction.
I think of the question Evander asked the healer before he let her go free.
Do you know of any secrets that could harm me or my family?
My father could have had all the good intentions in the world, and still have failed that question.
“Do you truly think that?” I ask Evander. “That a healer can do more good than a king?”
Evander smiles into his drink. “I’m not king yet,” he says. “And I hope not to be one for many more decades.”
“Will you change things, when you are?”
He pauses for a moment. “I hope so,” he says. “I’m not sure how, exactly. I know I would like to.”
If I told him what I was, right now, would it do any good? Could I get him to parley with my grandma, to work with us towards a common goal—a future where fey and humans live together?
Or would he be appalled at why I was sent here to begin with? Would he banish me, execute me, imprison me?
Would he drive me from Cassiel’s side?
In any case, he isn’t king yet, just like he says, and I can’t defy my grandmother’s orders. There’s far too much at stake.
Evander looks across at me. “You won’t tell my mother, will you?”
I smile, glancing down. “Your secret is safe with me.”