19 #4
“Who is he? Who is doing this?” Vawn hisses. “How could you join them? Why would you turn traitor against your own kingdom?”
“I’m not. I still serve Belavrin. Just a different one than you’re thinking of. One liberated from the tyranny of monarchs.”
I snort a laugh. “The Exemplar is just another kind of tyrant.”
“Who is he?” Vawn presses the sword tighter against General Centune’s throat, until a thread of blood appears on her skin.
“He is everyone and no one,” she rasps. “His name is not important.”
“But you know him,” I theorize. “It’s not easy to turn a longtime general of the King’s army into a traitor. You know this person, and you trust him. Why?”
But the general clamps her lips shut and fixes her eyes on the ceiling. Silence fills the hallway, punctuated by the distant sounds of conflict outside the castle.
Just as Vawn is about to press her again, there’s a shout from a nearby corridor, and the sound of running feet. People are approaching, and I can’t be sure whether they’re friend or foe.
“We have company,” I warn Vawn. “Do you want me to finish her?”
“She was going to kill you, so she deserves death,” he says grimly.
“But we need her as a witness to what happened here. Perhaps the Lord and Lady can get some information out of her.” He looks down at the general.
“For your sake, I hope you were telling the truth, and that they’re alive. If I find out you killed them—”
“Vawn!” someone shouts from the end of the hallway.
Several figures are running toward us. I step between them and Vawn, assuming a fighting stance while my eyes flick over the oncoming group, identifying each one. Lord Kaenan in his dressing gown. Lady Kaenan in an embroidered robe. The rest are castle guards by the look of their clothing.
My posture relaxes a bit, but I stay alert even when they’ve reached us, and I keep track of Severin’s exact position by the wall in case we need to leap onto him and escape.
Lady Kaenan pulls Vawn to his feet and checks him over. “You’re safe, thank the fates.” Then she spots General Centune on the floor, and her expression turns livid. “She did this.”
“She’s paralyzed,” Vawn says. “But it won’t last much longer.”
Lord Kaenan beckons to his men. “Take the general to a cell. And see that the guards who lost their lives here are laid out in the west hall, with the greatest respect, until their bodies can be seen to.”
His people surge forward to obey, and I step back into Vawn’s room, out of their way. I take advantage of the spare moments to run to my closet and don a loose shirt, a pair of pants, and the boots my father made me. It’s a relief to feel them on my feet again.
While I’m sitting on the floor, lacing the boots, I keep glancing at the dead, riderless wyvern.
Its long neck lies halfway across the floor of the room, its blood saturating the fluffy rug.
Its head is turned aside, and a thick, slimy tongue spills from its jaws.
One of its wing joints is jammed into the window frame beside its neck, like it was trying to crawl through, even though it obviously couldn’t fit.
Stupid creature. That wedged joint is keeping it stuck, preventing the limp carcass from sliding out of the window and crashing to the ground.
The sounds of conflict outside have faded, which hopefully means the Redeemers’ attack has failed. But they’ll come again. We must be gone when they do.
Lord Kaenan pokes his head into my room, and his eyes widen. “Well. There’s something you don’t see every day.” He raises his voice. “My dear, there is a dead wyvern stuck in the window.”
A faint curse comes from the hallway, and seconds later, Lady Kaenan hurries in. “By the fates, that is a sight. The rug will have to be thrown out.”
“Are there any more wyverns outside? Any more attackers?” I ask.
“I believe they have been killed or driven off,” says Lord Kaenan. “The sky should be clear, and the castle is secure. Still… they got too close.”
“And they may try again.” Lady Kaenan tightens the belt of her robe with all the determination of a captain gearing up for battle.
“I will tell the kitchen to prepare a very early breakfast, something hearty and fortifying, and a great deal of strong black tea. Then we’ll send the prince on his way earlier than planned. ”
“I’ll be part of the escort.” I keep my tone firm and calm. No room for argument.
The Lady exchanges a significant glance with her husband, as if they’ve already had a conversation on this very topic. He shrugs and leaves the room, patting my shoulder as he walks by.
Lady Kaenan takes a gold case from the pocket of her robes, plucks out a cigarette, and lights it with the ignition glyph on the smallest nail of her left hand.
Her silence unnerves me, because she has the authority to keep me here. Despite Vawn’s status as the king-to-be, she holds the real power in this castle.
I need confirmation from her, so I repeat my decision. “I’m going with him.”
Her lips pucker around the cigarette, and she blows out blue smoke with a knowing half-smile. “Of course you are.”