38. Inside these Walls
~ GRACE ~
From the moment we left the Keep, we flew for days, until the pairs of riders and dragons began to blend together.
After each flight of five or six hours, we’d land, be given enough time to relieve ourselves and eat a hurried meal, only for another dragon to appear, accompanied by a man, dressed in the strange, plain leathers with no pin or banner, or even a king’s colors, walking with a dragon.
Each poor creature dull and spiritless, though a strong flyer.
It took the first two flights late into the dark of night on the first day, and a third, difficult attempt at getting me on board the dragon without use of my arms—both men tying me around the middle and hauling me up—for me to convince Breckon to tie my wrists in front of me so I could assist myself in mounting, and at least catch myself if I fell.
When he untied me, my shoulders ached horribly.
So horribly, I almost couldn’t bring my hands forward.
But he yanked them to my front and looped that belt around my wrists.
Over the course of the flight, I worked my shoulders, rolling them enough, that they only hurt when I moved, and at last I had some use of my hands.
Still, it was only with Koa’s help that I made it through those days of travel.
She was horribly distressed by the dragons, but to my surprise, not confused.
She showed me image after image of other dragons like this—seemingly defeated.
Subdued. Fearful—or worse, lacking any spirit at all, and apparently devoid of the single-mindedness of her, and Kham, and all the dragons I’d met in Vosgaarde.
‘Are they hurt? Sick? Drugged?’ I asked her while we flew, and I kept doing my best to work my wrists, shoulders, and hands to keep the blood flowing through them.
‘No, Firebird. They are… taken away. From their self.’
I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but the more of these creatures we met, the clearer it became that something was wrong.
Yet, Breckon was extremely comfortable with them.
Not the dragons themselves—he very obviously had no idea what thoughtful, intelligent creatures they were. But he was comfortable with the men who rode them, and in using them to travel this way.
“Did you find me this way?” I asked him on the second day, when we were on the ground and eating a hurried meal of dried fruit and bread.
“Never you mind,” he said tonelessly.
If only he’d be as heedless of my presence as he was of my words. But he never left my side. Never released my hands. And never allowed me to bathe.
For days.
~ VOSKI ~
Each interminable hour was a tragedy. Each meal a stage, my mother in its spotlight. Our audience, the servants.
While we pretended affection, she’d pointed out the very first day that the servants would be required to assist us in this endeavor, and there was little point hiding the scheme from them. Though she insisted on discretion about the child, as she referred to it.
Accustomed as they were to her antics, none of the servants would be shocked that I’d come to her for help in absconding with a noblewoman.
Though their unease that we hadn’t discussed where I’d been for over seven years, or why they’d been told I was dead, was plain.
But they took their cues from her and remained silent.
When she was pleased, they all breathed easier.
No one in the house was prepared to overturn that particular apple-cart.
Except me.
The first day, my queries about the next step were met with a shooing hand and airy excuses about my welcome home feast.
The second day, she’d let me think we were progressing, urging me to join her in the office once more, and peppering me with questions regarding Grace’s upbringing and family, what I knew of the Fyrehold Court, and details on our interactions in the castle.
I was wary from the first. My mother had walked in Courtier circles since before I was born. Even if she didn’t know all the players personally, she’d already admitted she was familiar with Breckon. And had certainly visited Fyrehold more than once in her life.
I assumed she was testing me, attempting to gain purchase on how much I knew, after my threats to reveal her to the queen. So, I told her anything that anyone with access to the castle in Fyrehold would know of Grace, and held the rest back.
Mother’s eyes had grown sharp when I voiced doubt about her lack of action. But she assured me she worked, whether I saw her progress or not.
I gave her a day. Which meant another night sitting in that blasted, black bed, staring at the dying flames and listening to the groans and creaks of the house, barely sleeping.
At some point I grew so unsettled, I slipped out, into the house to search the hidden passages, servants’ stairs, and cubbies I’d historically used to sneak up on visitors, or eavesdrop on my parents. And to flee.
All still existed, though most were dusty enough to make me believe none of the servants had learned of them. And eerily, nothing in the house moved. No servants sneaking to another’s bedchamber. No shadowy visitors for my mother. Nothing.
This house, which had always been dark, though bustling with life, was now dead.
The cold, silent shadows unnerved me, but my searches of the residential wings turned up nothing. No guests. Nothing hidden in the secret spaces. Nothing.
By the third night, the only place in the house I hadn’t searched was mother’s office. And her dungeon. Neither of which I’d ever located a secret passage into, which left me only traditional routes. Unless I could find something now that had escaped my notice when I was young.
I knew she held records on every powerful Lord and Lady across the territories—most of them dusty tomes that were rarely opened. But some full of the notes gathered by her spies and agents across the continent.
There had to be something in there about Breckon. Or, perhaps even Grace’s family.
I would find them.
Yesterday, working on two hours’ sleep, and still no talk of a firm plan, my nerves had been stretched to breaking point. But on Kham’s advice, I kept it to myself to see if Mother would offer anything.
But today, after learning that there’d been no messengers to or from the house in the past forty-eight hours—Kham was watching for them—I’d decided she was intentionally dragging her feet to cause delay.
An effort to keep me close, and on edge.
Though one I didn’t understand, because I’d warned her this fuckwad would kill a bastard child, rather than be embarrassed by raising him.
And while my mother didn’t know that Grace wasn’t truly pregnant, driven as she was to create a family legacy, I couldn’t understand why she’d take the risk.
And so, here on the fifth day since my arrival, I would not be diverted. Either she would begin moving, or I would move alone.
I sat in noble finery I suspected Mother had refashioned from my father’s clothes, which I hated, one booted foot propped on the other knee, leaning my elbow on the arm of the unnecessarily grand dining chair, and glowered at her.
She pretended not to notice.
But I would not be put off.
Still glaring, I waved the servants away as soon as they’d set the food before me.
Mother sipped her soup, and took dainty bites of the meat, that blade-edge smile on her face as she thanked Mrs. Voss for selecting such lovely meals to welcome me back, while generally ignoring my presence.
But when it came to making my mother pay, I had the capacity for great patience. And I knew her tricks. She believed I wouldn’t want to reveal my weakness by voicing far more pointed questions in front of the servants.
She was wrong.
She was halfway through her beef when I spoke.
“When do we travel?” I asked casually, letting the edge of my tone match her smile.
Her brows rose, but she finished chewing and gave a pretty, one-shouldered shrug. “We cannot move until I’ve smoothed the path. And the pieces aren’t yet in place.”
“What path?” I snapped. “Call off your lackey, tell him not to marry her. That is the path.”
“Come now, Vane. Surely you’re a man of the world enough to know that these matters aren’t that simple. Enjoy your lunch. Let us pamper you and help you refresh from your travel. My messages have been delivered. I expect to receive word within days.”
“What messages? You haven’t sent anyone out for three days.”
She didn’t react to the news that I was watching her messengers, but the fact that she didn’t respond was enough signal for me to smile.
“If this particular prey is beyond your reach, you can admit it, Mother. I will not condemn you. But I will handle it myself.”
“If you touch a hair on a Lord’s head, I will remove your ability to procreate,” she said with a smile, before taking a bite off the beef and showing me her teeth.
I snorted. “First of all, no you won’t. And secondly, since when do you dance carefully around a rich noble? If he dies, his wealth will be disbursed and—”
“There will be no further discussion on this. You came to me for help, which I offer freely—”
Freely, my ass.
“—So your role is to wait until I have my pawns in place to deliver what you cannot. Death is the last resort.”
“Not always,” I muttered.
Her eye glittered. I let mine reflect the sentiment.
But my mother was the consummate strategist, and had taught me well in the ways of keeping your opponent off-balance.
She flashed what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, then deftly changed the subject, forcing me to either back down, or escalate the conflict, knowing either course would shift power in her favor.
I refused to give her the satisfaction, and ruminated on how to turn the tables back on her.
“Have you replaced your beloved Athos with an equally admirable steed? And, if so, what is his name? I assume you only ride studs these days?”
The servants all looked straight to me, their eyes widening at her boldness in raising the unspoken.
Fire.
My false death.
The killing of my favorite horse.
I kept my expression blank. “I didn’t come by horse. I was offered a ride.”
“Oh? My men saw no one on the road the night you arrived—and none came to the house with you.”
“I wasn’t with friends. I walked the final stretch.”
She didn’t need to know that stretch was from the field alongside the manor, not on the road.
My mother’s nose wrinkled and she sniffed. “I do not understand your willingness to accept the inconveniences of a common life, when so much more is available to you.”
I grinned. “The common life is a great deal more fun than noble society.” I winked at one of the serving girls lined up against the wall. Her cheeks colored, but she didn’t meet my eyes.
Mother ignored my games. “That can’t possibly be true.”
I broadened the smile and leaned forward, rudely placing my elbows on the table, either side of my plate. “Why, Mother, I’m shocked. In this, at least, it appears my experience exceeds yours.”
The room went silent as she raised her eyes from her plate, to meet mine. A warning simmering in her cold gaze.
I only smiled more and leaned even closer, over my plate, to press my advantage. “I came to you for ease. If you cannot provide it, I will move ahead on my own, as I am fully capable of doing.”
“If you were fully capable, you would have done so,” she said simply.
I shook my head and laid down the gauntlet, ignoring the servants’ shocked inhalations. “If my baby is lost, it will be on your head, and there will be none to follow it. I am not taking another man’s seconds.”
The fury that rose in her gaze when I mentioned the baby in front of the servants gave me a burst of satisfaction that should have shamed me. But I would beg God’s forgiveness later.
She needed to be humbled, and if she insisted on playing these games in front of the servants, then I would remove any confidence she might have in my desire to save face.
I didn’t give two shits if they knew why I was here.
“Unsurprisingly, Vane, you still need to develop more patience,” she said.
“I have been immensely patient, Mother. My patience nears its end.” I would have cursed at the smile she offered then, but I didn’t want any of them to see my agitation.
So, I smiled in return, picked up the napkin laid across my lap by a servant, tossed it to the table, and rose.
“Tell me when news arrives. If I’m still here. ”
Then, I walked out, the servants’ gazes following me, heating the skin on my back, and raising the hair on the back of my neck.
Yet, I did smile as I walked back through the house toward my chambers. I’d angered her—but that would fuel her. And now the whispers would begin.
At worst, the moment anyone from this household had contact with the servants of another noble home, the others would hear about Vane’s bastard, growing in the belly of a desirable noble.
Someone, somewhere, would reach Breckon’s circle, and that meant Grace would hear me coming.
‘Hold on,’ I sent out, stretching my mind to its capacity, though I knew I couldn’t possibly reach her. Even Kham had stopped trying to reach Koa, knowing we were too far for any link. ‘I’m coming, Grace. Hold on.’