Chapter 25
With nowhere else to go tonight, I trudge back to the aviary on numb legs.
The hawks rustle when I push through the door. The scent of clean hay is comforting as always, but it’s far from enough. I betrayed Alaris’s trust for nothing. For a rock. A prop. And now I know the truth…
My father’s eternal summer is killing people.
I collapse onto the fur pallet and pull the blanket to my chin. The hawks watch from their perches, dark eyes catching starlight from the windows high above. One drops down and settles beside me, warm weight against my shoulder.
I press my face into the fur. It smells like cloves. I let tears leak into the bedding, hoping this ache heals by morning.
It doesn’t.
I wake stiff and hurting with my eyes half swollen shut. I want last night to have been a dream, but it’s not. Guilt pangs through my chest all over again.
The pretense is over. The hope of instant escape is over. I’m leaving this castle today, and I’m never coming back.
I pack up my bag, returning every belonging I came with to its place.
I hesitate on the pouch of lobell seeds. I never got to share these with Siro. After how well my lobellum worked on the people of Culdridge, I thought I might have a chance to give her a few and show her how to care for this finicky variety.
But Karns’s sister is smart. She’ll figure it out, even if a few bushes die in the process. I leave a dozen seeds on the bench in the center of a cloth so someone will notice them.
The hawks track me from perch to perch, heads swiveling. As I tie on my cloak, a few of them drop to the bench and the basin, whistling.
My throat tightens. I run my hand over the closest one’s wing, feeling its rapid heartbeat under sleek feathers.
“I have to go,” I whisper. “You’ll be fine without me.”
Their small cries follow me as I sling the pack over my shoulder and push through the door.
Outside, the morning air is bright and cold, so I squint and blink a moment before fully comprehending the figure waiting for me. Dashol is standing just outside the aviary, holding the reins of a mare. He lifts one hand in greeting, his usual smile a little slow.
“I heard you’ll be leaving us today,” he says. “I was told to prepare a mount and some supplies for you.”
The horse beside him is saddled and ready. Full bags bulge at her sides. A quick peek reveals food, water, a map, a leather pouch with assorted metal tools, a bedroll…everything I will need on the road, and more.
“Ah, and your wages.” He hands me a bag of coins. “If there is anything you are missing, he said you could provide a list.”
I don’t have to ask who “he” is.
I accept the clinking bag, feeling the weight of coins I earned with my own hands. With supplies and a better means of travel, I can focus on surviving the shadow that hunts me. Now my eyes are leaking again.
I don’t deserve any of this after what I’ve done, but I’ll accept it to get away from here.
I swing astride the mare. My riding lessons were so many years ago that even with my growing strength, the motion is awkward. But after a bit of wobbling, I settle into the saddle. Dashol passes me a pair of riding gloves. I slide them on, grateful for the extra warmth. “Thank you.”
He nods. “I’ll walk you to the front gate.”
The mare’s gait is smooth, making it easy for even an inexperienced rider like me. Dashol gives me directions to the main road flameward, and to the nearest inn. The creak of overloaded carts and low voices fill the air. Many of the townspeople crowd the area, readying their own horses.
The gate stands open. Beyond it, the road winds into morning mist.
Men and women work together to lash down crates. A man separates from the crowd, dragged by a dog trying to run toward another family. Near the wall, an old woman grips a young man’s face in both hands. She turns away, her shoulders shaking.
“Where will they all go?” I ask.
“They’ve all been assigned to houses with space or structures that could be fitted for the winter.”
Dashol guides the mare, threading through the carts. The dark treetops loom over the walls, hinting at miles of unfamiliar wilderness.
As much as the townspeople have lost, I can’t help but feel the slightest twist of something bitter…jealousy? They are all facing this horrible situation together, while I am facing the dark forest alone.
It’s ugly, and I do my best to shake it away.
I grip the reins and grit my teeth, straightening my back.
I’ve done this before without provisions or a map or a horse.
I wasn’t sure I could survive on my own the night I left the palace, but now I know I can.
I will find my way outside these castle walls.
Dashol stops at the edge of the gate. “Are you okay to ride from here?”
“Oh…yes.” I drink in a breath of the cold air. “Just fine.”
He nods, his big hand falling from the reins. “Then this is goodbye, Lyra. Sorry to see you go. Come back and visit us sometime, alright?”
I had no business being here in the first place, but Dashol never made me feel that way. My eyes sting, and it’s not from the cold. “Thank you again. For everything.”
I kick the mare into motion. I bounce badly in the saddle at first, but gradually I find the rhythm of her gait. The castle walls shrink behind me. The road ahead cuts through the pines, the dirt marked by the carts that left before me.
The morning passes in silence. Just as I remember, the road is long and straight.
I reach the point where the road narrows and pass what I explored on foot, but there isn’t much new to see.
With no turns to choose, the mare plods along without interference, picking her way around frosty patches and fallen branches while I focus on keeping my seat.
I eat one of the rolls from the saddlebag without stopping.
By midday, I finally reach a fork. The cold has settled into my hands and my thighs ache from the hard saddle.
I slow to a stop and swing off as carefully as I can.
Dashol told me to take my first right to get to the inn, but I want to make sure this is the right crossroads.
I guide the mare to the side of the road, offering her a handful of oats from the saddlebag.
I tug out the map and unfurl it. The sketch is detailed, with distances marked between towns and inns, and water sources circled in blue ink. One branch of the road curves flameward. The other, crossed through with an “X,” leads deeper into the shadoward reaches.
If you go, go flameward.
I trace the route I want to take with one finger.
I’ll go to the inn for tonight, and in the morning, I’ll pick another province to travel to.
Sophys is flameward, but still far enough from the capital to give me comfort.
Maybe the divinials of truth will help me breathe easier.
Maybe the air there will clear my mind of phantom shadows and unanswerable questions.
Absently, my eyes search for Culdridge. I find the looping name. There are at least three towns in between here and there.
Are they next?
Alaris is sending the people of Culdridge to settle in other areas, but how long will they be safe there?
From what I saw on the map, the wither has only overtaken small towns and border villages and remote islands that nobody in the capital has ever heard of.
But the lines are creeping inward. How long until a city falls? What lies would my father tell then?
I lower the paper.
I don’t know what Alaris is up to, but I’m certain he’s planning something to stop the wither.
Maybe I can help.
I shake the thought off and fold up the map. I ignore the twinge in my hip as I remount and guide the mare down the road toward the inn. But in only a few steps, I slow her to another stop.
This doesn’t feel right.
Everything I’ve done since I left the palace, I can justify.
The lies, the theft, the masks. I’ve done what I had to.
Desperation made it easy. Survival excused every audacious act.
I’m sure I can find another town, come up with another name, and I will survive there too.
Even if I have to steal again, even if I have to lie, I won’t feel bad about it because it’s what’s necessary.
But riding off while my father’s power eats the world feels different. It feels like I’ve stumbled upon something bigger than me and my survival, bigger than the minor inconveniences and lies I leave strewn upon my path as I run from my shadow.
This feels like running away from something important.
I’m not a governess from Delvos or a hawk keeper from Arastos.
I’m not whoever I’ll have to pretend to be at the inn tonight.
I’m a princess of the blood, and I grew up at the center of the eternal summer that is sapping the life from the edges.
I know my father, the palace, the court.
Even with my flamelessness, I know things about being ignarian no one outside those walls could.
I don’t believe I can do much with that knowledge on my own. But if Alaris already has a plan, maybe I can help. He didn’t get the chance to evaluate that before he let me leave.
Still, staying in one place terrifies me. Even if Drina wasn’t reporting on me this time, she certainly would if she found out who I am. Without the voidstone, I don’t have any solution but an endless race toward the horizon to escape from my murderer.
If I’m going to stay and help him, maybe I can get his help too. As Alaris said, trust goes both ways.
Maybe trust is too much to hope for at this point, but mutual benefit is still possible. He has the power I wanted to steal, after all.
He might reject me. The horse and the road might not have been optional. But all it will cost me to find out is one more day and a very uncomfortable conversation.
Should I just choose the inn? The thought of facing him makes it tempting.
The mare stamps, waiting for direction. I turn her back to the castle.
The ride takes the rest of the afternoon. My legs are trembling by the time the castle walls come into view. I can barely feel my fingers on the reins.
I ride through the gate, still open, though the people of Culdridge appear to have long departed. I steer the mare to the stable.
Dashol is crossing the courtyard with an armful of firewood. He stops when he sees me. The wood shifts in his grip. “You’re back!”
“Yes. I’m not leaving today.” I dismount. My legs almost buckle, but I grab the saddle and hold myself upright. I sling my bag around me, leaving the rest of the supplies. “Can you find a better use for this mare?”
I catch the hint of a smile. I turn away before it can spread.
I have a message to deliver.