Chapter 33
She’d always been a light sleeper, but even for her this was ridiculous.
The ground dug into her back like miniature mountains, and the bedroll she’d packed was worn and bearing the strain of over two weeks of travel.
She wished for a blanket, not this useless scrap of a cloak she had picked for fashion and stealth rather than as a practical garment for sleeping on forest floors beside a bloodstained rock.
She’d laid out her bedroll as far from the group as she could, but now she gave up trying to sleep and scrambled off the floor, dragging the useless bedroll behind her.
The dark humps of bodies slept soundly, their silhouettes rising and falling with each breath. At least none of them had died.
She threw the scrap of fabric down beside the fire, a body she reluctantly identified as Hark on her other side.
Now that she was warm, sleep danced at the edge of her mind, teasing her with the oblivion she so needed after the day she’d had.
She lay there, arms crossed over her chest, listening to the soft breathing of Hark’s crew.
There was nothing to light this dark corner of the world besides the stars blinking their protest against the night, and the softly glowing embers of the fire.
Arla smothered a scoff at the thought that Kase’s hair was perhaps its own light source.
But her amusement was short-lived, and she didn’t know how long she lay there, staring at the sky, twisting the dragonhart brooch in her fingers before a rough, smoky voice spoke.
‘People once believed they could use those to communicate with the dragons.’
She didn’t turn to face him, unsettled by the feeling in her stomach after hearing his voice thick with sleep. She didn’t think she could stomach looking at him, his hair tousled, his eyes that searing blue, the colour that reminded her—
Stop it, Arla!
‘Another fiction,’ she whispered, ignoring the pulse of warmth she swore she could feel radiating through the brooch as she held it against her chest.
‘Is it? You didn’t believe in magic until recently.’
She sighed. ‘I’m still not sure I do.’
‘Aren’t you?’
Silence settled, thick and heavy, with the reality of what they were going to do.
She was edging closer to him before she could stop herself.
‘I just want them to be safe. Even knowing that I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for is worth it if I know they’re safe.
If my people don’t have to go through it all again…
’ She paused. For Halos, who feared the resurgence of slavery, for her children, and for the rest of Hadalyn’s people who were at risk… ‘It’s worth it.’
Hark was silent for long seconds, and the quiet that stretched between them was far easier than it had ever been.
‘What’s the bloodstone?’ she asked then.
Hark chuckled softly. ‘People used to use it to honour the gods. They’d cut their palms and place them on the rock in some sort of payment or a thank-you, I guess.’
‘Is that how he’s trying to take their power? By using a bloodstone?’ She didn’t know why she said it. She hadn’t really given any real thought to how Elrod was attempting to access their magic. The thought of it made her sick.
Hark’s voice had a faraway tone when he finally spoke.
‘He’s been trying to infuse their blood with his.
It’s dark magic, forbidden even in ancient times.
There are dozens of books in the royal library detailing how dangerous it is and how it goes against everything the gods stood for.
Some think that to try and infuse one’s blood with that of a magic draws on the power of a fallen god – one who was banished for his cruelty and need for power. ’
Oh, none of it was sounding good. The worst part was she was finding herself starting to believe it.
‘I think someone’s helping him. Orson’s been mightily interested in Elrod’s rituals and sacrifices. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d been researching it to try and help him.’
The thought of it brought bile to the back of her throat.
Orson. Hadalyn’s ambassador.
If he was involved then…
Gods, she didn’t have the capacity to imagine Cyrus being involved in something as abhorrent as this.
Her chest was getting tighter. And the trembling in her fingers was becoming downright uncontrollable as she thought on it.
She’d been so fucking blind.
Hark reached across, his hand bruising hers gently and sending sparks skittering down her spine.
‘I know I’ve been cruel, but you’re an excellent assassin, and your heart is bigger than it should be.
Kastonia nearly broke you and you’ve found it in yourself to save these people, not knowing if their blood runs grey or scarlet.
I think that’s enough to tell you that everything will be okay. The gods won’t abandon you, Reinhart.’
For the first time, she didn’t object to the mention of the gods. And had the world not been so cruel, she might have believed in them.
* * *
Perry had told her he would take her into the town today. It had been too many weeks since she’d seen another child, and she was bored of wandering empty halls, looking at the same portraits, playing the same notes on the piano that Cyrus had taught her.
It hadn’t taken her long to stray back down to the lower levels of the castle when Perry hadn’t shown at her rooms. She had positively stomped down here when a grey uniformed soldier had appeared to tell her that Perry was occupied with the king, and that there wouldn’t be time to go into the town today.
Arla missed her parents.
She missed their little cottage by the river and she missed them all swimming together.
She missed the feeling of never being alone, of always having someone to nag her to brush her hair.
The air smelt funny down here, like sulphur and secrets, and the walls were made of a rough stone that felt nice on her fingertips.
There was a huge wooden door, too, and Arla knew she should turn back towards the upper levels of the castle or even the kitchens.
But she heaved her tiny body against it anyway, hissing between her teeth when the door didn’t budge and her shoulder ached enough to tell her it was bruised.
Sighing, she bit her lip against tears as she dragged herself back up the steps towards the comfort of her rooms.
* * *
A gentle light was turning the inside of her eyelids a soft orange. It was a soft, warming thing that encouraged her to wake properly. There was a heavy cloak draped over her, trapping the little heat there was against her skin.
Hark must have been frozen last night, but he had given up his cloak anyway, and she had slept well for it. Her head was clear, and the job she would have to do today seemed straightforward and uncomplicated compared to how she had felt last night.
Despite the pale, dawn light breaking through the boughs of intricately woven branches above her, the air felt damp and smelled of rain.
It would be a miserable day, but she would endure it to save the people who had been shackled and chained together like livestock at an auction. It ended today. All of it.
‘Good morning,’ a low, smoky voice came from behind her.
She tipped her head up to see Hark Stappen leering over her with a steaming mug of tea.
How they’d managed to fit the leaves inside their packs and keep them dry, she didn’t know, especially when half those bags were still attached to the horses Jack had led with him when they’d freed the slaves yesterday.
She wondered where they were now, and if they’d made it without being hunted and killed. Hark hadn’t divulged where exactly it was he was sending them, but she hoped the slaves weren’t exchanging one prison for another.
‘It’s going to rain,’ she grumbled, pulling herself up off the floor and stamping some feeling back into her toes.
‘It is, and with the temperature so low it’s likely to freeze before it hits the ground. If it rains too hard, the border will be too difficult to pass and we’ll have to hide them in the mountains,’ Hark said, running a hand through his hair and twisting his lip between his teeth.
‘Then let’s get them out before it snows.’
She hated working as part of a team, but for something like this, she might appreciate the extra eyes at her back.