Chapter 15
Atlas looked at me and then at Torgrin. Nobody was talking, and no-one was making eye contact. The humiliation I felt over the afternoon’s events was making me sick. It was only what was left of my pride that brought me to the barracks for the evening meal.
Bethel and Torgrin were lovers. I assume Atlas knew all along. I remembered how he had become uncomfortable when Bethel had asked if Torgrin was training with us. Bethel must have felt threatened by my interaction with Torgrin at that morning’s training, and sought to put me in my place.
Their affair must be a secret because she was engaged to King Hared’s son. I thought her an idiot. She had risked outing Torgrin and herself with that stunt – she did not know that I wouldn’t report what I saw to her father.
I pushed my plate away and left without a word to either captain.
The people here knew the rules of a game I didn’t know how to play.
I suddenly wanted to leave Murus altogether, to go home and see Iain and our little forge by the Red River.
The cool night air washed over me, and I paused, taking a deep breath to shake off my homesickness.
‘Caris.’ Torgrin had followed me outside. Ignoring him, I started towards the fortress entrance and the safety of my room.
‘Stop.’ He headed me off, standing before me and forcing me to a halt. I tried to go around him, but he grabbed my forearm in a powerful grip.
He released my arm immediately when I pulled it away.
‘What do you want?’ I demanded.
‘I want to talk.’ His black eyes glinted.
‘Well, I don’t.’ I folded my arms across my chest and looked over his shoulder.
‘She means nothing to me.’
I snorted. ‘Are you telling me this so I don’t run to her father? Because if so, you needn’t worry. It’s none of my business.’
Torgrin moved towards me, and I stepped back, tripping over my clumsy feet. He reached out and pulled me close to him. My hands came up between us, pressing against his chest. His breath fanned over my face and my traitorous heart leaped.
‘I don’t care if you tell Lord Warwick,’ he growled.
‘Then why are we standing here in the dark discussing this?’ I studied his face, trying to decipher his expression. We were so close that anyone who saw us might think we were about to kiss. It was the image of where his mouth had been only hours ago that had me stepping back.
‘Are you and the blacksmith together?’ Torgrin’s question was unexpected. Why does he unnerve me like this?
I had to stall so I could think. ‘Cillian?’ I tipped my head to the side, looking into Torgrin’s impassive face.
Cillian was honest and direct with how he felt about me – a complete contrast to the man who stood in the dark with me now.
‘He makes me feel safe, and I trust him,’ I said truthfully.
‘Then he is who you need,’ Torgrin announced as if his permission was required.
‘What I need? I don’t need anyone!’
‘Yes, you do.’ Torgrin took a step back and then another. ‘See you at training, and don’t be late.’
Stunned by his abrupt behaviour, I stood unmoving as he disappeared into the night. He had wanted me to know he felt nothing for Bethel, but in the same breath, he encouraged me to be with Cillian. I gave myself a mental shake and headed to the fortress entrance.
Back in my room, I felt restless and far from sleepy. Seeking a reprieve, I immersed myself in the room’s contents.
I flipped through the books left behind by the room’s previous owner.
Picking up the half-read book of fables, I turned the pages until I found the drawing of the woman again.
Her black hair whipped around her, surrounded by smoke and ash.
This time, I noticed writing on the bottom right corner of the illustration in cursive letters: Hecate.
I shivered, despite the room’s warmth, and put the book down as if the pages might singe me.
I went through the papers and books on the desk and found more artwork.
Some were done with charcoal, some ink, and some even had colour.
The artist was very gifted. But who did they belong to?
There was one drawing of a horse that looked like Nightmare – it was just a few charcoal lines, and yet I could see the command and grace of my mare captured in the likeness.
Other drawings were purely from imagination, with winged gods sitting on clouds holding lightning bolts.
The detail of the wings was so exquisite I could almost feel how soft the feathers would be.
My favourite drawings were the landscapes, which were all done with washes of colour.
Some places I recognised – like the little stream just outside Murus that I used to bathe in when working in the forge.
Many of the drawings were of snowcapped mountains, which I loved the most. There were no snowy mountains in Pedion, so perhaps the artist had been to Ephemeros.
All I knew of Ephemeros was that a reclusive monarch, King Goa, ruled there, and it was a cold and mountainous kingdom that had once been an enemy to Pedion.
Something told me that this artist had seen it with their own eyes.
The jagged edges of the mountains, the biting cold contrasting with the beauty of the rising sun, or a lone tree hanging on the side of a rocky outcrop.
I placed the drawings beside the bed so I could look at them when I woke up and before I fell asleep.
?
I soon fell into a routine at the fortress.
In the mornings, I would train with the soldiers.
There were no more one-on-one sword fights with Torgrin, but he didn’t let up when I was in his group practi sing my swordsmanship.
I showed Atlas the manoeuvres Iain had taught me to escape from, such as headlocks and other holds.
I even helped Tomas train the soldiers with the bow.
After breakfast, I would spend time with Webber, helping with the horses.
Sometimes Meg would join us and tell stories of Atlas and Torgrin as boys.
They had once stolen a drunk captain’s horse, which earned them time in the stocks.
Webber had travelled to look after the boys, giving them water and food until they were granted freedom.
Every other day, I would take Ania and Wolfe out of the fortress. We would sometimes travel beyond the city to spend time in the meadows and dangle our feet in the cool water of nearby streams.
The fortress’s inhabitants were no longer anxiously waiting to hear from Capita that the Warwick family must return. It had been weeks without news, and I began to wonder if Bethel and Goodwin would ever be married.
I visited Cillian when I could. Being at the forge was a break from all that was happening inside the fortress.
I avoided Bethel and Torgrin, only seeing the captain when I had to at training and mealtimes.
Ignoring him wasn’t easy for me. My eyes would find his sometimes, and I would have to get up and leave the table.
Poor Atlas found himself in the middle, trying to rebuild a friendship. So far, his attempts had failed.
I had not increased my intimacy with Cillian. He would pull me in for a kiss goodbye with a question in his eyes every time I left the forge. Something was holding me back from taking that final step with him, and I knew he would not wait for me forever.
I was in the stables with Webber when the message came. I had been observing as he checked the health of a foal born during the night. The foal, with its gangly legs and big eyes, was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
The soldier handed me the message. It was from Dana, a close friend of Iain’s, who he had met soon after he had fished me out of the river.
It was Dana who had encouraged me to leave the Red River forge.
I didn’t want to leave her caring for Iain alone, but she had refused to let me stay, her words giving me the final push I needed.
‘You are twenty winters old, Caris. Iain has kept you isolated for long enough, and it’s time you spread your wings.
’ She had promised to send a message to the blacksmith in Murus if anything was wrong.
Cillian must have told the messenger where to find me.
I read the words, my stomach sinking.
Come home. He doesn’t have long.
Dana.
The message would have taken two nights to arrive, and it would take me another two nights to get back to them. I left the stables and headed straight to the fortress. ‘Where is Lord Warwick?’ I asked the first servant I saw.
‘He is in his counsel room upstairs,’ she said with a bob. The moment the words left her mouth, I sprinted up the stairs.
I knocked on the door and waited until I heard Lord Warwick’s call to enter. He wasn’t alone. Bethel was seated, and it looked like she had been crying. She didn’t look up from her lap as I entered.
‘Good morning, Caris. Is there something you wish to speak to me about?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Yes, my lord.’ I glanced at Bethel, not wanting her to be privy to my request.
‘That will be all, Bethel,’ he said, seeming relieved that he had an excuse to end the tearful meeting with his eldest daughter.
She rose quickly and without a word. I saw a hint of fear in her eyes when she looked at me.
I ignored her probing gaze, and her fear turned to a scowl before she left me alone with her father.
Lord Warwick grimaced at me as the door closed behind Bethel. ‘It seems she is eager to return to Capita.’
I moved to stand before Lord Warwick, surprised by this revelation.
‘Bethel is worried Goodwin will retract his proposal to her and offer it to another while we are here in Murus,’ he said with a sigh.
‘Doesn’t she know why you came to Murus?’ It perplexed me that Bethel was a willing participant in this arranged marriage. Surely, the suspicious demise of her mother would be a concern for her?
‘Yes, but you see, my eldest has ambitions,’ he said warily, shaking his head.