Chapter 36 The Capital
My dragon form pulses under my skin, rage shivering in my veins.
The primal, uncontrollable need to protect what's mine, to kill anyone who would dare to harm it—him, Marton—boils inside me.
I am going to kill them all. It is Cherry's grip on my wrist that brings me back to my human body.
My human senses.
Only a momentary respite, but long enough that I meet her eyes, notice the speaking look she is trying to give me.
When I look back at Marton, I am rational enough to see that he is unharmed.
The blade does not touch him. He sits by the fire with a bowl of porridge still held in his lap, as if he were interrupted in the midst of an ordinary breakfast. My lip curls back in a snarl that I try to restrain.
Rationally, I can see that it would be best to not let these knights know that I am a dragon.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Marton meets my eyes. His are brown in the morning fog, a light rain still misting the air around us, making damp hair curl at his brow.
He does not look afraid, but gazes at me with every confidence in his own safety.
He believes we will make it out of this situation unharmed.
He trusts me.
Vakhrin stands a few feet away, another knight's blade at his throat.
He looks not far from violence himself.
"What is the meaning of this?
" asks Cherry. "This is a public road, and we are breaking no laws.
"
She is a better liar than Marton and I put together.
Her tone is all indignance, her manner that of any law-abiding citizen being treated unfairly.
"This is a public road, aye, but a private wood.
You are trespassing on the king's lands.
"
"Since when is the Royal Wood closed to the public?
It has always been open to the people, for them to hunt or travel on.
"
The knight squints at her, face visible beneath the raised visor of his helm.
If he meant for this to end in violence, he would have lowered the visor.
I try to take comfort in that fact.
"These woods have been closed for nigh on seven years.
Where have you been, missy?"
Locked in a tower, I think.
Hidden from everything going on in the kingdom.
To the list of the king's other crimes, I add that he has deprived Cherry of the chance to know her land and people.
These knights don't even recognize their princess when she stands before them.
She wears a tattered second-hand dress, pink hair in a lank braid.
Limbs long and thin, so different from the plump child she used to be.
"We'll be on our way then," Vakhrin speaks up in his deep voice.
"We didn't mean any trouble."
"Can't let you do that, I'm afraid," says one of the knights.
"All trespassers are to be taken into custody on suspicion of poaching.
That's the new law," adds another.
"Poaching?
" asks Marton. "We have no bows or arrows.
No materials to set a snare. We are not hunters.
"
If they could have seen the wild boar I gobbled whole in my dragon form yesterday, they would laugh at the bald lie in that statement.
But technically, all that Marton has said is true.
The knights' gazes take in our camp, noting the lack of hunting supplies.
The one next to Marton lowers his sword.
Something inside of me relaxes. My dragon, I think.
"Still," says the lead knight.
"The law is the law. We had better take them in to the capital.
"
"We are bound for the capital already," says Marton with unfailing friendliness.
"Perhaps we can travel there together, without threats and drawn blades.
"
"You will have to pay a fine for trespassing.
"
That draws a protracted moment of silence from our group.
We haven't two copper coins to rub together between the four of us.
All our supplies are gifts from the Trove or things we have scavenged.
"Of course," says Cherry finally.
"We understand. We did not know the law and broke it.
The fine is fair."
The knights are satisfied with that.
The last of them sheaths their blade, and the flinty look in Vakhrin's eye fades.
"Pack up your camp and we'll all be on our way," says the lead knight.
I take the opportunity to duck my head, shuffling off to fiddle with one of the packs.
The guards have barely glanced my way, and of course that is the reason that none of them have noticed anything.
..odd about me.
Humans are always afraid of me, even if they don't know why, if their rational minds can't explain it.
The scholars of the Academy were jittery and uncomfortable in my presence.
Even other protectorkin like Vakh feel wary when they first meet me.
The danger complex, as Master Albertson called it.
And mine is high.
I stay silent as we break camp, the four of us shouldering packs that are normally harnessed to Vakh and I in our protector forms. Marton takes one of the larger packs from me, carrying it himself.
I suppose it would look strange if I carried it instead of he.
If we were both human, he would be stronger than me.
We set out on the road heading south to the king's palace.
Walking, our half day's flight just became a two day hike, and the knights have only horses enough for themselves.
We are quiet as we walk, and I begin to feel the prickling eyes of the knights upon my face and hands and back.
They are looking for what it is about me that unsettles them, casting me sidelong glances from the safety of horseback.
Marton takes my hand, interlacing our fingers and swinging our joined hands casually as he walks.
As if by magic, the knights seem to lose interest in me one by one.
I am just an ordinary girl to them now, with a human boy who holds her hand and doesn't think she is a monster.
I rest my cheek on his shoulder, briefly, a quiet thanks.
He kisses the crown of my head.
The day crawls on, and we walk.
We enter the capital as the sun begins to set the following day.
The knights have been vile and obnoxious for most of the trek, making crude jokes or looking lasciviously at Cherry half the time, and the other half throwing their weight around and acting as if they have the right to order us all about.
It is only Marton's constant contact with me that keeps me from lashing out at them as a dragon, and I have to imagine it is also his presence by my side that continues to disguise my otherness from them.
Whatever the reason, this last leg of our journey draws to a close mostly without incident.
We reach the city, passing the outskirts where the beggars and paupers camp beneath the eaves between buildings and barefoot children run in the street.
We make our way into the business district, where bakers, butchers, weavers, and blacksmiths alike are all doing booming trade in the last of the day's light.
Beyond that are the homes of the wealthy, merchants and courtiers and emissaries from foreign lands.
The first ring wall is here, separating the poor businesses from the richer ones.
It is to a guard tower set into the wall that the knights lead us, intent on having us pay our fine for trespassing before we can pass the gates.
I look to Cherry with raised brows.
If she had a plan about how to get us out of this situation without paying our fine, now would be the time to implement it.
Cherry meets my eyes with a hint of wildness stirring in her own.
I half expect her to shout Run! and take off sprinting for the gates, where even now a steady stream of wagons and pedestrians are entering and exiting the city proper under the watchful eyes of the city guards.
Instead, I watch as she draws herself up to her full height.
Her chin is tilted up, shoulders back, arms held regally at her sides.
The air of the average citizen falls away and is replaced by the bearing of the princess.
She tosses her hair.
I almost have to smile, seeing how effectively she put on her princess airs, clad as she still is in rags and traveling dirt.
But it occurs to me what she means to do and dread curdles in my stomach.
She opens her mouth to speak at that same time as I take a step forward, instinctively moving to shield her from the words she is about to say.
A commotion at the gates draws the attention of the guards.
A man with a loaded donkey cart covered by a tarp is raising his voice and angrily gesticulating as the guards try to turn him back the way he came.
Two of the knights with us beeline to the gates to intervene.
Another two have already entered the guard tower ahead.
The lead knight, Sir Hugh, is the only one still standing here.
I lock eyes with Vakhrin over the knight's shoulder.
If we are going to move, now is the time.
I see that knowledge reflected back at me in his eyes.
What we are going to do, I don't know, but we have only this moment to decide.
Otherwise Cherry will speak, and our element of surprise will be gone.
"Will this cover the fee?
" I hear Marton ask.
He is holding something out to Sir Hugh, something small and wrapped in a handkerchief.
Sir Hugh takes the offering, blinking in surprise as he pulls back the fabric.
I see a flash of red before the knight flips the kerchief closed, grinning.
He pockets the offering, giving Marton a nod.
"Aye, that will do nicely.
Just a quick form to fill out and then you lot can be on your way.
"
He disappears into the guard tower, and I turn to Marton.
"What was that?"
He shrugs, affecting nonchalance, but I see the way he tugs at his cuff and shifts.
He is uncomfortable. He is also keeping a secret, which is not something I've known Marton to do.
Sigh Hugh returns with a roll of parchment and has us all sign our names on a list of offenders who have been cleared of blame.
I don't know what the others write, but I scribble the name of the neighbor who lived next door to my mother when I was a child.
Yara Benoe. It is the first name I think of.
Sir Hugh is in a very good mood as he bids us goodbye, wishing us luck in the city as he sees us through the gates.
Inside, I look around at the tall, clean buildings, the tidy shops, the multiple story homes.
The capital is the nicest city in Ithyma.
This is only the second time in my life I have set foot on these neatly cobbled streets.
In the center of the city, invisible from here, squats the palace like a toad keeping watch over its pond.
I know from experience that as one draws closer to the city's center, the castle's turrets and towers become visible.
The four of us stand frozen for a moment in the wash of pedestrian traffic.
Cherry swallows audibly.
"I have not seen it since..."
Nine years, now.
It has been nine years since she last set foot in this city that should have been her home.
Nine years since I set foot in this city that should have been only a distant dream to me.
Vakhrin takes a deep inhale through his nose.
It wrinkles. "This city smells of fear."
I frown, sniffing the air.
I smell baked goods and leather and horse shit that lies on the cobbles for only a moment before a man with a cart comes and scoops it up, taking it away to be burned.
"Fear? You can smell things like that?
"
"Can't you?"
I shake my head.
"Don't worry, dragon. Your eyesight is better than mine.
"
"I'm stronger, too."
"Slower," he comments.
I scoff. "Fast enough to best you.
"
"Ha! You think—"
"Alright, enough," says Cherry, tossing her hair in irritation.
Her princess guise is still partially in effect.
"I know it's been ages since the two of you sparred and you're both itching for a fight.
Why don't you save it for—" She cuts off.
We all know what she was going to say.
"Should we go on?" says Marton, gesturing into the city.
"Find a place to rest for the night?"
"We don't have any money," I remind him, thinking of the thing in the handkerchief he gave away.
Cherry blows out a breath. "Straight to the palace it is."
The palace gates are open, the draw bridge lowered.
A slow trickle of citizenry can be seen exiting the palace at intervals.
Two city guards are posted on the battlements either side of the gate, with another four stationed one at each corner of the drawbridge.
Still, it is like we are being welcomed right into the belly of the beast.
When Marton stops a passerby to ask what's happening at the palace, the woman tucks a strand of hair into her bun and hitches a sack of groceries higher up her shoulder before answering.
"Grievances and petitions," she says. "The king is holding court today.
"
"Holding court?" I repeat, looking to Cherry.
I cannot remember if this is something the king did before, holding court to hear the concerns of the people, but it does not fit with the image of the evil basilisk we have been cooking up.
"The first day of every month," says the woman.
"But you had better hurry if you want an audience with the king.
The gates shut at nightfall."
Nightfall is minutes away, the sun even now creeping its way behind the horizon.
There is no time at all in which to decide what we will do.
No time to scrape together courage or talk through contingencies.
We have naught in our arsenal but a story told round a campfire by children.
The way to defeat a basilisk.
The woman moves on.
By silent consensus, we delay a moment. Cherry grips my hand, and I find myself reaching for Marton's.
On Cherry's other side, I see Vakhrin thread his fingers with hers.
We all stand, silently linked, looking at the palace.
"I love you," I whisper.
I don't know who I say it to.
All of them. Each of them.
Marton squeezes my hand.
Cherry speaks softly, almost too low to be heard, "For Ithyma.
"
She releases my hand, stepping forward.
Vakh and I flanking her, Marton behind, we make our way down the drawbridge.
The guards pay us no mind as we pass.
The palace gates swallow us.