Chapter Ten #2
“They sent us a decent amount of supplies in the beginning: food, clean water, soil to place over the infertile land…” Tansy says, bitterly twisting her boot in the mud.
“But when we tried petitioning the royals to send for sorcerers or scientists to investigate further and find a cure, the provisions they sent started to become scarce. There were pathetic excuses at first. Accusations that we were ungrateful and hostile, as if it was our fault that we were angry about our livelihoods being destroyed. Eventually, they ignored all our requests, and the professionals in the citadel we contacted were more focused on the king’s health.
No one was listening. We had no choice but to resort to something more drastic. ”
I can understand their story, but—
“Simon,” I breathe.
The girls exchange a flash of guilt.
“Was that the guard’s name?” Pigeon asks quietly.
“Y-Yes—” I stutter, struggling to untangle the threads of who knows what, of what I can and can’t say. “Yes. He—He was twenty-three years old. His mother asked for orange marigolds at his funeral. He—”
I break off. The heaviness of the clearing sinks deeper into my bones. Pigeon places her palm flat against the chipped white bark.
“This talisman we make, it’s for him too. It’s for you too, Simon,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
All eyes fall to the battered oak tree. Pigeon’s lost friends and family are remembered here. Simon is remembered here. Like the bouquets I put together, this tree holds his memory and mourns him.
I step forward to squeeze Pigeon’s arm.
“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through,” I say. “I’m sorry you’ve lost so much. It’s not right that they didn’t listen to your petitions. But Pigeon—the captain of the guard, I know her. She’s reasonable and fair. She’ll hear you out. I’m certain of it.”
Ava said she feared for the safety of the royals if a meeting was arranged, but if she came herself, if she spoke to Pigeon, I’m sure they could come to an understanding.
Pigeon gives me a small smile, a small shrug.
“That’s kind of you to suggest, Fliss, but I don’t think all in the citadel have your good intentions. ”
Tansy checks a strange contraption on her waist.
“We should get going. It’s almost time,” she says.
Time for what? Is there more I can do? Is there more I can say?
“Pigeon, please,” I urge, “be careful.”
“Don’t worry. The explosives are only to slow them down. No one needs to get hurt.”
“People have already been hurt!” I remind her, thinking of the cuts and burns I saw in the castle courtyard the other day. Thinking of Simon.
“It’ll be fine. We’ll be in and out in a blink,” Pigeon assures me.
Tansy bows her head goodbye. Pigeon starts to follow but thinks twice. Stepping close to Will, she wraps a hand around his forearm and peels up on her toes to reach his ear. A few whispered words later, he flushes bright red. Wait—
“Take care, you two,” Pigeon says, and hurries back to the path. “Oh, and Will, maybe take the coastal route back to the citadel, just in case. It would be inconvenient to accidentally frame you.”
Will snorts. “Get out of here.”
Pigeon waves and scampers after Tansy.
Are they—? Does he—? I mean, Pigeon can get through the wards. How long have they known each other? What did she say to him? I’ve never seen Will blush like that. I mean, I’ve only known him a few weeks, so I don’t really know him—
I don’t care.
Nope. That’s a lie.
Oh my gods, I care.
“Coming, Princess? I would very much like to leave this tree as far behind as possible,” Will says.
I try my best, but I can’t quite fix the smile on my face. It’s the knowledge of Pigeon’s rebel identity. It’s the fear of what she’s running off to do and the hurdles that await me back at the citadel. It’s this frustrating knot Willoh Vane has my head in.
No. It’s this place.
The immense gravity forcing my feet farther into the barren earth, the twisted broken squeeze in each breath. The grieving twists of rope. It’s too much.
“Do I need to carry you?” Will asks. He’s trying to joke, but it doesn’t ring true. Not here. Not in this clearing. “Come on, let’s get this filled up with flowers.”
He takes the basket out of my limp hands and gently guides me back to the path. Each step I take away from that tree is easier, lighter. Eventually, I chuckle and rub my eyes to shake off the lingering feeling.
“There we go,” Will says, and smiles down at me. “That place will do that to you—especially to anyone with magic. It’s best to avoid it.”
“You felt it too?”
He doesn’t glance back. “More than I care to admit.”
I don’t know if I should dig further. I don’t know if I can handle any more harsh truths today.
From the way they were talking back there, the rumors that blame Will for the tree’s death seem less and less likely, but the only way to know for certain is to ask.
And if he wasn’t at fault, then where did those rumors start?
“What happened to it? The tree?”
For once, it’s not me who takes a long time to answer. A shadow falls over Will’s eyes, and I instantly regret asking.
“Ego and desperation. That’s what happened.”
“It feels like death.”
“It does.”
“Was it dark magic?”
“Yes.”
These short answers are most unlike him.
“Did anyone try to restore it using magic? Like the king or someone?”
He attempts a laugh. “I did, actually. Several times. Clearly, I was unsuccessful. A few people who lived nearby tried too, to no avail. It’s a spell that cannot be undone. Only time will tell if the earth will recover.”
Does Bash know that? That Will tried to heal the tree? It doesn’t seem like a topic Will wants to talk about….
I chew my lip. “Do you think Pigeon will be okay?”
“Most likely.”
“Is she from Mithian?”
“No, she’s from Oxburg. It’s a small village in the forest a short walk in that direction.
No one lives there now though.” He sighs.
“Most of the spell’s impact is kept to that clearing—that’s the epicenter—but over time, the dark magic bled out to the surrounding areas.
A few months after it happened, a nearby village noticed rot in their wood.
Then their harvests started to sour, and the soil became too acidic.
Some people fell sick. I think most places within a half hour walk of the tree were affected badly, while the rest of the forest saw minor damage.
Pigeon’s village was one of the worst hit. ”
That’s awful…
“It sounded like she was going to attack the trading wagons again,” I say. Meaning I could get back home to find an injured friend. On either side of the conflict.
“Let’s stay out their way, then, shall we?” Will says. “I prefer my days guard free.”
I anxiously rub my fingers down the pleats of my skirt. I actually agree with that. Especially one guard in particular.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt….”
When I look back up, Will grins at me, and any hint of my sorrow is flung to the wind.
“Anyone? Worried about me too, Princess?”
I fold my arms with a scowl.
Not at all.
“I decline to answer that question.”
Will laughs and it’s sweeter than any fruit I’ve ever tasted.
“As you wish, my lady.”