Chapter 8 #3
The gravelly voice returned, anger lining his throat that had her rolling her eyes as she sipped nonchalantly from her own drink.
‘Of course they’re underneath that castle!
Where else would they have gone? Hadalyn was where the dragons spent most of their time – the gods, too, back when they walked the earth.
If there’s anywhere in Hadalyn to hide, it’s beneath the palace and Hadalyn’s people know it.
They deserve to die for keeping them from us. ’
Arla’s chest was tight, her knuckles turning white where they gripped the tankard.
‘The dragons served us all – every kingdom,’ the soft-spoken man from before continued.
‘Just because they resided in Hadalyn’s meadows long ago doesn’t mean they only cared for that kingdom.
The books and journals from back then say they were always in other kingdoms and aiding anyone who needed them.
I don’t believe for a minute that Hadalyn’s people claimed them for themselves.
They wouldn’t be suffering from the same poverty that’s plaguing our own kingdom if they had the favour and aid of the dragons.
Besides, no one can get inside the tunnels.
There’s no entrance, so how could a beast the size of a dragon get down there? ’
She’d heard enough. Since she’d first stepped foot in this kingdom, all she’d heard was rubbish about gods, and dragons, and magic. Utter nonsense. Kastonians were delusional.
But one thing was clear, the people were not happy.
She lurched in her chair as a hand slammed on the table before her, all gnarled knuckles and broken skin. ‘Now, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?’
Arla looked up at the man, his back bent with an unhealed injury and desperation in his eyes that had Arla palming the blade at her waist.
‘The same as you. I want to win something.’
‘And what have ya to offer?’ the man asked.
She was reluctant to reach into her jacket and hold up the silver chain, but it was all she had to bargain with. It had been a present from Cyrus for her fifteenth birthday.
‘You win, you take the silver. I win, you answer any questions I have and you never speak of me to anyone again.’
The man blinked at her, perhaps evaluating what would be the best way to take the chain and run. In the end, he decided against it and slumped into the chair opposite.
‘I take it ya know your cards, girl?’
Arla smiled.
* * *
‘I don’t know where ya learnt to play like that, girl, but a deal’s a deal.’
She could have won in the first three moves, but had let it play out to at least give him the sense of a game.
She needed to keep him sweet if she wanted answers, and if she made a fool of him then he might not tell her what she wanted to know.
Arla pocketed the chain, relieved not to have to part with the gift.
‘Thought I had you at first, but you won, fair ‘n’ square. How’s about you start askin’ those questions o’ yours?’
Worth swallowing her pride, then; she’d known it.
‘My first question,’ she began, rocking back on her chair and dragging her attention from where it had strayed to a deal over what she was very much afraid was a human heart.
‘How come the King is so wealthy whilst the rest of the kingdom has been reduced to running underground markets just to stay alive?’
The man looked at her, all black teeth and wiry hair. He reminded her of Brik. ‘Not from round here, are ya?’
‘I’m asking the questions,’ she said firmly.
His eyes flared slightly, as though he couldn’t believe the impertinence being flung at him from a girl young enough to be his daughter.
‘Sommat’s wrong with tha’ castle. You ’ear all sorts down here.
Dark magic, sacrifices. Doesn’t stop ’em all from trippin’ over ’emselves to get a glimpse o’ the King though, does it.
Or his lad, for that matter. Always ’ated the place, meself.
Sure, the gold’s nice to look at and we find ourselves drawn to the place as if sommat’s possessed us. But nah, sommat off about it.’
Of course. It always reverted back to magic, didn’t it?
‘I don’t believe for one minute that you believe magic exists, let alone that there are whisperings of it in the palace. And it doesn’t explain the riches, either.’
The man shifted under her gaze, the threat of who she really was ready to blow her cover as she tiptoed along the line of impatience. ‘He took everythin’ after the war. Had them slaves from Hadalyn for a while, too. Reckon ’alf of ’em never made their way back.’
She was over the table and gripping the front of his ragged shirt before she could consider the consequences of her actions. ‘Hadalyn’s people were freed. Every single one of them. The treaty was signed. Your King can’t have slaves.’
He had the common sense to tremble beneath her grip.
‘I ain’t saying that. But ’e made good money off ’em back then, I ’eard.
Maybe it’s pure greed, but none of us folk know why he keeps the gold for ’imself.
Mark my words: there’s rumours of odd things in that palace, girl.
Things none of us ought to be meddlin’ in. ’
She released his shirt, shoving him backwards into his seat. She hadn’t come here for more rumours of magic and the fantastical suspicions of an oppressed people.
The man took a long look at her before bowing his head and disappearing into the throng of the market.