Chapter 10 Calder
CALDER
Toftlund City, Treland
When Calder and Aura enter the Toftlund City dungeons the following morning, the sun just begins to warm the city's crushed shell walls. A heavily armored city guard sleeps outside, his feet propped up on a wooden bucket half-filled with murky water.
Calder curls his lip in disgust, smacking the man’s legs into the bucket, splashing the filthy water, and rousing the guard.
“Where is Isabel Kilton?”
“Who is asking?” The man grumps.
“The Iss Drengr,” Calder growls.
The soldier jumps to his feet and leans back to take in his appearance. “Briny’s Balls!” He runs his hands through his hair. “And Miss Aura, too.”
“Please let us speak with the prisoner.” She masks her frustration with a lovely dose of patience.
He nods emphatically. “Of course, Miss.” He gestures for them to follow down a long set of steps. Luckily, the three guards inside are awake and sharpening their blades.
“Did they find anything interesting on Isabel when she was apprehended?” She whispers.
Their guard nods as they stride through the first section of the jail. “A letter the King is investigating, a handful of coins, and,” he hesitates, “a braid of dark auburn hair, Miss.”
She tenses at his side.
“Any of the guards can assist you from here, Miss Aura, and,” he gulps, “Sir.” He bows low before scurrying away like the rat he is.
“Must you frighten everyone?” Aura nudges him with a grin.
“Fear keeps them in line.” He returns the smirk.
The back section of the jail contains three holding cells. The center one contains Isabel, slumbering on her wooden cot.
Calder kicks the cell door, loudly clanging the metal. “Wake up!”
She stretches almost catlike as if this were a typical day and she was not facing a public execution. Her head pivots to assess the two, and a broad, twisted smile appears on her lips.
“Gods above, Aura. You do not look well.” Isabel stands, leaning her hips against the corner of the cell, crossing her arms.
“Says the woman imprisoned.” She hisses.
“I already spoke with your unhinged father last night.” She yawns. “What more have you come to interrogate me about?”
Aura grips the bars, nearly snarling at the creature behind them. “Why torture me?”
Isabel inspects the cuticles of her nails.
“Consider the poetry of it.” She sweeps around the tiny cell, as if lost in thought.
“You, the daughter of Sigvid and Avina, while I, the wronged daughter of King Rendel.” A sneer tugs at her lips.
“Ah, I see by your unmoved expression that your parents have already shared my teeny little secret. Did the Kilton surname finally give me away?”
Aura’s shoulders heave as muscles clench in her jaw. “Your father was a monster. The things he did to my Mum…”
Isabel waves her off. “There are two sides to every story. My mother was raised from nothing to become Rendel’s favorite mistress. The only one who gave him a child.”
Aura throws her head back, cackling. “Surely, a bastard girl holds little weight to a Manchineel man. Those who banished the Redwood line and discriminated against women in power would see you as a menace.”
Interestingly, this stings Isabel, who lunges at the bars. “My path is more important than a minor feud between the Timber and Salt Provinces. I bow to one power, and they promised me everything for my loyalty.”
Aura’s face scrunches in confusion, but thundering boots barge into the room before she can question her further.
“I have more fucking questions for you,” Sigvid bellows before stopping beside Calder. “What the fuck are you doing here? Wait.” He sighs as if to compose himself. “Kid, what are you doing here?”
“Uh,” a flash of fear crosses Aura’s features as she fidgets with her hands.
Behind her, Isabel leans against the bars with her arms crossed. “May I answer, Papa Sigvid?”
The King of Treland’s head slowly twists to glower at the prisoner. “I can accomplish your torture without your limbs.” Sigvid snarls, then grabs Aura by the scruff of her collar, dragging her out of their chamber into the hallway leading to the first part of the jail.
Calder flinches as Sigvid removes her from his sight. He clenches and unclenches his fists, focusing on controlling himself.
Sigvid is her father.
Not only is he entitled to speak with her, to pull her away from anyone he wishes, but Calder has no claim to the Princess. No matter his feelings, she remains just a young woman who has seen only twenty winters and has been blacklisted from the Drengr by the same man who trained Calder.
That does not stop him from straining his ears to hear the conversation.
“What did we discuss?” Sigvid’s gruff voice echoes back at them.
“We haven't been properly introduced.” Isabel rests her arms on the bars, her forearms dangling outside.
He ignores her.
“How intriguing that the great King and Queen trust you, considering your past, Iss Drengr.” She says ‘great’ with more sarcasm than Edmund has ever uttered.
Calder remains silent even as he squeezes his fists, wanting nothing more than to smash her head against the bars.
“Lavinia writes often. I fear she still hopes you will deliver her latest request.” Isabel sneers. “I daresay the other Jarls are chomping at the bit to deliver their willing sacrifice. Guy, in particular, wants to test out that sweet pussy first. Too bad I beat him there.”
Calder whips around as she withdraws her arms through the bars, but he is quicker.
To her utter horror, he grabs her wrist through the bars and pulls it back.
He applies a small patch of ice to her skin.
She shrieks and struggles as it fades, leaving the shape of a blackened snowflake against the inside of her wrist.
Isabel recoils.
He makes an eerie tisking noise. “It appears you do not have long to live, Miss Kilton. Four months at most.” He rubs his hands together while she focuses intently on the black seidr mark. “Your body will die as the frost creeps through your organs and veins, freezing you from the inside out.”
“And they called my father an Abyss spawn!” She tightly clutches her wrist while placing distance between them.
“Then you should know what kind of demon I am.”
Aura and Sigvid return, both looking worse for wear.
“I have questions about the letter we found on you.” Sigvid crosses his arms, giving Isabel a savage glare.
Her gaze does not leave the black snowflake frozen into her flesh, nor does she react to his question.
The Lord Commander continues asking her variations of inquiries related to the cryptic letter she had on her.
“Tell us about this J.R. who sent you these strange instructions. A friend? Timber Lord?”
When she shows no signs of responding, he throws up his hands in defeat and ushers Aura into the main room.
Calder gives Isabel a final warning look before following them out.
“I meant what I said,” Sigvid scolds his daughter, who looks as if she is ready to rip him in half. “You need to be more careful about the people you spend time with.” He gestures to Isabel.
With a nod to Calder, the King leaves the jail.
“We should go.” He gently places a hand on her lower back.
She remains silent as they step into the now cloudy morning of Toftlund. Once they turn the corner onto the cobblestones and head toward the gate leading to Blackwood, she spins around and gazes up at him with tear-filled eyes.
“I was kidnapped as a child. I don’t remember the incident, but my parents were never the same.” She looks away. “Father didn’t welcome friends of mine unless he interrogated everyone they ever knew.”
I knew Sigvid was strict, but this is a new level, even if it is slightly justified. He gently rubs her back, encouraging her to continue.
“Connections with others became cumbersome,” she strokes her arm as if reassuring herself.
“My father favored my time with those close in age who had Drengr parents, like Kjarton. Anyone else was subject to his intense scrutiny.” Her shoulders slump.
“It has been easier not to engage deeply with another person.”
His heart sinks at the sight of her pain. In a rare, comforting gesture, he gently brushes her curls behind her ear.
“I never truly loved her.” She whispers.
“I cared deeply for Isabel, but I never let myself get close enough that Father would interfere…and now I wish I had. When she offered to help me train for the Trials, I knew this was how I would find my way.” Her hands ball into fists.
“How was I foolish enough to allow a Manchineel to manipulate me?” Her hands quiver, and the skin of her neck fades to a deep crimson.
“I apologize for dragging you into this mess. Not when you are here because Father asked.”
He tilts her chin so she blinks up at him. “We won’t have to worry about that bitch for long.”
“I fear my father will never allow me to forget my mistake.”
“Sigvid’s love has always been rough, Princess. Nothing you have done should lead to his disapproval.”
She wraps her arms around his midsection, her cheek pressing against his leather armor, freezing the Iss Drengr on the spot.
“Thank you for your support.” She whispers against his chest.
He returns the embrace, burying his massive hand in her soft copper curls. As he watches her eyelids flutter to a close, a pang thumps in his heart. A faint smile lifts her full, pink lips. It is as if the sharpest peaks of his frozen resolve soften ever so slowly at her touch.
Does she realize no one has ever touched me in such a way?
He does not move for fear of ruining a moment he does not deserve with a woman he can never claim as his own.
She steps away first. “It is a lovely day. Perhaps we should-”
Her sweet little voice, poised to suggest time spent exclusively with him, is abruptly cut off by the arrival of one of the Jarls of Skalor.
Jarl Rolf’s dark gaze sweeps from Calder to linger on Aura. He halts his progress toward the jail and redirects toward them.
“You must be Princess Aura.” He inclines his head. “The descriptions of you match that of your father.”
Calder senses the tension in her before she even speaks. Her nostrils flare, and she straightens her shoulders, regarding Rolf with cool indifference.
“Then your stories must be fictional, sir, as my father saw fit only to pass along his rage.” She lowers her voice.
The corner of Rolf’s lips twitch at her spitfire reaction. “My apologies, Princess. I have yet to meet your parents in the flesh.”
“My father is more than his braid.” A warning lingers in her tone.
Rolf leans back, smirking just a little. “I would never reduce Sigvid Thordsson to a mere beast, Princess. He manages that all on his own.”
She launches at Rolf in time for Calder to pin her to his chest. However, he refuses to contain the curses and spits issuing from her mouth as if she were a feral cat.
“Ho, ho!” Rolf chuckles as he steps forward. “Looks like the Queen was right about this one.” He addresses him in a tone so soft that he is sure she missed it amidst her struggles.
“If you will excuse me, I fear one of my men caused a ruckus in the street, and I must release him.” He gestures to the jail.
As he enters the prison, she ceases to fight.
He is a sad excuse for a Jarl. “I do not trust him.”
“What do you know of that man?” She twists her head to look up at him.
“As any Jarl in Skalor,” except myself, “his circlet and shield were gifted to him by his father and his father before him. He is protected that way. Queen Lavinia relies on him to carry out her orders.” Calder strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Fortunately, he fears me.”
Aura appears taken aback. “Did it have anything to do with the village? The one you froze.”
He flinches, hating that she had heard any of his sins.
“Yes… and no. To assume the Jarlship of Kaldrgataness, I needed to challenge my predecessor to a krone–a fight to the death for his circlet.” Forever burned in his mind are the numerous moments of cruelty that earned him the moniker ‘Iss Drengr.’ They parade behind his eyes, taunting him.
“Rolf and several other Jarls tried to exploit my youth and power for their benefit until I stood my ground.”
And I punched the bastard for throwing a flagon of wine in my face.
“I have heard of your tales.” She whispers as if it is all a secret. “What led you to stay in Kaldrgataness, to take the Jarlship?”
He focuses on her intent gaze, with her plump pink lips parted. The Princess does not judge or express terror at him.
She genuinely wants to connect with me.
“My mother.”
“Your mother?” She shakes her head. “Is she in Skalor?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you leave? Or kill her?”
Spoken like the true daughter of Sigvid. I dare not express that sentiment, for her fury is too comparable to his.
“I am saddled to my Hold as their Jarl. She helped ensure it was difficult for me to leave.” He runs his hand through his beard. “I have imagined every way of ending her life. She has stymied me at every turn.”
She hesitantly places her hand on his arm. “There is always a way out.”
And more than anything, he wants to believe her. But it will take the death of a god to return him to Treland.