Chapter Eight De Nile is a River
At my admission, Draw took me by the elbow, escorted me out of the room, and shut the door behind me as if dazed. I thought our conversation had gone well and even toward the end, it seemed like he believed me, so I was surprised at his response. Maybe he thought I was lying again. Or plain crazy.
Or did he believe me and it was too much to take in?
But it’s not as if I told him he didn’t have a soul.
His reality was real enough to him and he didn’t know anything different.
At the end of it all, Draw would lead his life here—I knew he ended the series with a nice addition to his family estate in return for his services to the crown—and I would go home to Mayfair.
I managed to find my way back to the Maidens’ Chamber—which was empty—and crawled into bed. I slept soundly but woke with a clenched jaw. I relaxed my face and stretched in bed. Afternoon light streamed through the high, narrow windows.
It was then it hit me—I had gone to sleep in Landsome and didn’t wake up at home. Though by this point I believed Sorrel, sleep seemed like a natural time for her to return me. Plus, it was still in the back of my mind that perhaps I was dreaming.
My stomach was odd from whatever liquor Draw had given me in his room and I was truly hungry besides, so I meandered through the castle until I found the great hall where we ate last night.
It was mostly empty save a few groups of people talking, breakfast and lunch plates long cleared.
Perhaps they were strategizing in advance of tomorrow’s departure.
I sat in front of a sad half loaf on a wooden board and sawed a dry slice.
I chewed the plain brown bread and wished I had a book in front of me. I was self-conscious that people were watching me.
Suddenly, I felt alone.
It was the first time things stopped moving long enough that I could think and I found only uncertainty.
The work I’d done to correct the plot felt too small against the ghostwriter’s drastic changes.
I’d ruined things with the only person who was trying to help me.
I’d seen men get killed and the frenzy I’d talked myself into in Lord Draw’s chambers had made me question whether this place was actually fiction.
Besides, not even in a fantasy land was Ironclaw ever going to climb into bed and whisper about my beauty.
The thing was, I didn’t really want to go home either. I’d return to what? Getting fired by Sara’s uncle? Quiet nights in with Mom and Dad? A sister who had to move halfway across the country to find an interesting life? When was my life going to be interesting?
Those thoughts shrank me. I felt it immediately.
What kind of person got the chance to jump into a fantasy world and then didn’t have an adventure? I should be shooting arrows astride a horse or meeting a lusty stableman under a drawbridge. A lion should be giving me a friggin’ sword, for goodness’ sake!
Instead, I was doing what I always did: lunching by myself, skirting the sidelines too scared to do anything else, keeping a portion of myself secret from everyone around me. I had to find out how things went with Issa’s capture—I had work to do!
I dusted the crumbs off my hands and stood. Long strides took me to Queen Elthra’s solar—where I belonged.
I nodded at the guards outside the entrance as I imagined a queen’s confidante would.
Without a question as to why I was here, they thrust the wooden doors open and I walked in.
The room was much brighter than it was last night.
The glass mullion windows lining one wall shone with sun.
Queen Elthra sat at the head of a long table behind the large queendom map.
Even though he clearly thought me a nuisance, my heart quickened at the sight of Ironclaw, his long black hair collected by a leather thong.
Just as instantly, that lightness was replaced with dread when I caught Draw’s eye, mouth set in a line.
I didn’t know what or if he’d said anything to the others, but I couldn’t focus on that. I had a monarch to impress.
“At your service, Your Majesty.”
The queen beamed and rose from her head chair with her arms extended. Today her hair was left long and strands of ice-white hair mingled with long gown floats hanging from her thin arms. “Exactly who I was looking for.” She gave a weird kind of smile. “I nearly sent a hunting team.”
Her use of the word hunting felt charged. Was she upset?
“Well,” I said warily, “how can I help?”
“It would seem,” said Queen Elthra, “you haven’t been fully honest with us.”
I shot another look at Lord Draw. His olive eyes tightened and he gave a minute shake of his head.
“We received report that the Dark Mage Amédée is gathering his host at Spectral Peak,” the queen said. “Not in the northeastern forests, like you claimed.” She let her voice hang in the air. She always did seem dramatic on the page, and here she was, her ire turned toward me.
“Spectral Peak?” I was genuinely confused. “But the Dark Mage doesn’t turn there until his last retreat, after much of his forces have been decimated with the help of the valley lands. That’s where you’ll ultimately defeat him, but at no point does his entire host go to the island.”
Had my interference in stopping Ironclaw from going south done this? In one way, it was good news—it shortened the war campaign even further—but if Amédée brought all his might to Spectral Peak, he’d have a higher defensive advantage.
The queen knitted her fingers together and stared at me. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, or maybe just me. A chair scraped against the floor.
“Your Grace, this woman is not to be trusted.” My mouth formed an O as Ironclaw went to stand before his ruler and fiancée.
“She is clearly a user of dark magic. I found her wandering the halls late last night. She claimed to be walking while sleeping, but how do we know she wasn’t the one who let the Dark Mage’s apprentice in?
” I couldn’t help notice his elegant lips, even while they tore me apart.
He was the most handsome man in court—not a hard feat, as many of the other men looked like they’d gone decades without any proper skincare routine, but his hair—
“Lady Issa is gone,” he growled. “We should imprison the Mayfair wench before she can seed any other ill-founded plans.”
“Letting Issa get captured was the plan,” I spoke up angrily. “And you all were happy to jump on it as a way to get a spy in—”
“Us all? You mean me? Me and my judgment?”
I tensed and turned back to the queen. “I provided the information, and you decided, Your Grace. I’m only reminding Sir Ironclaw that all I do is in service of you.”
“But you said the timing is wrong for the Dark Mage to move to Spectral Peak. What value is your information if it’s shifting?”
I took a breath. “Everything shifts. Always. We can only try to keep up together.”
Ironclaw was still targeting me with a pointed glare, and I forced myself to meet his eyes. Wow, fabulous bone structure.
“It sounds like we need her,” Lord Draw said almost lazily.
I resisted nodding but most definitely agreed.
“As I understand it, Lady Mayfair doesn’t have direct communication with the witch.
Any kind of written prophecies”—he caught my eye—“could change. But she still has valuable information. We only need to temper her warnings against our own scouts’ updates.
” Draw’s eyes were intent on me, as were everyone else’s—everyone except the queen.
It was quiet as they waited on Queen Elthra’s word.
But she was watching Lord Draw.
Finally, she looked down at her hand. “The ring,” was all she said.
Ironclaw spoke low, for her only, “If you would permit me to take that ring and throw it in the fire, I would.”
She ignored him. Instead, she held her hand up for all her advisors to see. “Lady Dottie, what does green signify?”
She could have me dragged from the room. I understood this was my test.
I resisted squinting as I tried to recall what lime green represented, then realized I didn’t need the ring. I had seen it on her face, hadn’t I? Queen Elthra was always the most important woman in the room, and now everyone was arguing over me.
“Jealousy.” I swallowed. “Your Grace.”
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THE QUEEN COLDLY EXCUSED the lot of us to make preparations for the following day’s departure.
I had no tasks before me, didn’t even understand what one did as part of daily life in Castle Creneda.
I found my way to the wide courtyard, horses dozing in the shade, still haltered outside the charred stable.
The day had grown hot. One squat woman in a leather apron lifted a horse’s back hoof between her knees.
She clipped the hoof systematically before filing it smooth.
A litter of hoof clippings scattered around her in a U shape.
I found a stray patch of wall and leaned against it.
I felt a little self-conscious but enjoyed the bustle of the yard.
The afternoon sun was warm and before long I was sitting in the dirt, my legs stretched in front of me. I caught the occasional stray glance from curious folk and tried to ignore how thirsty I was growing—I knew where the well was, but I wasn’t entirely sure the water was safe to drink.
Someone tsked. I looked up to find Jerrald staring at me. He was wearing a tunic and loose pants that might have been linen. His face was free of grime and his cornrows were tidy. His black beard looked fresh as well. He clearly bathed here at the castle.
“Oh, I was looking for you, Jerrald.” I stood up. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me yesterday. I’m just waiting until the host leaves.” I gestured to the activity around me.
“Well, we’re not leaving today,” he stressed. “Are you going to sit in the dirt of the bailey until tomorrow?”
I shrugged. “I’m a visitor. What else am I supposed to be doing?”