Chapter 14
Monstrous Hedge
Taven followed the galvanized crowd to the edge of the forest, where they gathered to pay homage to a colossal maze stealing the horizon.
The only other maze he’d ever seen was the one in Termonglen, the one place in the Hinterlands not patrolled and guarded by the Medvedev.
It was the singular point of neutrality in a beautiful but hostile Reach.
All road travel from north to south in the kingdom had to pass through the Hinterlands, which covered the entire middle swath of the kingdom from sea to sea.
Travelers took respite there if they couldn’t make it to the next Reach before dark, but they never stayed long.
It was the air of the place, the towered castle, sitting upon what had once been a very active plot of land, its remnants bizarre and anachronistic.
The beastly topiary garden was one such relic. The maze had been another.
Taven had been a boy, alone and unwashed, oblivious to the dangers of the Hinterlands.
The voice in his head telling him where to go had not been overly detailed, and he’d ventured too far north on his way to Riverchapel.
He still remembered the way the tower blocked the noonday sun.
.. how he’d been able to look directly into the rays splaying from behind the stones, realizing he might have an actual roof to sleep under that evening.
Could still feel the cut of the topiary rabbits and elk-kind and birds, how he hadn’t even wondered how a place that was unoccupied most of the time was so well-maintained or by whom.
He never got a chance to sleep in the tower. The curious maze, just beyond the garden, had lured him by calling to his boyish curiosity.
It was morning before he’d emerged, sobbing and covered in scratches, briars stuck to his flesh.
He’d never expected to see another in his life, and having learned from Acheron what went on in the one at the base of the floral valley, he wondered if they were all made from the same malevolent source.
Despite the harsh, bitter winds that had kicked up, he couldn’t cool down.
It wasn’t only the fact Ellie hadn’t wanted him, though that was bad enough.
It was realizing he could leave, because Jesstin, of all people, would keep her safe, and he was no longer sure he could say the same for the people of Rivenholde.
The seam of his loathing for Jesstin Skylark and everything he stood for remained strong and untorn, but the two of them had slowly become unwitting allies, having just one thing in common, which was the only thing to Taven.
He didn’t need smooth-talking Acheron and his unruly mistress to tell him Elloven and Jesstin’s closeness was a problem though. He had to balance his faith in Jesstin’s single redeeming quality with vigilance for Elloven’s safety and well-being.
A bell rang, shaking the ground with a roar that vibrated through his bones. The gardens came alive as everyone’s fevered attention shifted to the maze. He pressed his ears when it rang a second time.
It was the final event of Cirque Calliope, and one he was told he “wouldn’t want to miss.” But he would miss it because he needed to find that little eunuch so they could start working on the plan to get Ellie out.
Several men went flying by, followed by an older woman who struggled to keep up. She huffed and puffed with an angry waddle. Taven brushed past her and almost missed her saying, “Outsiders shouldn’t even be permitted to challenge the labyrinth.”
She better not be talking about my Ellie.
“What did you say? Madam?” When she kept going, her messy skirt bunched in her hands, he called out louder, “Madam?”
The put-upon look she slung at him felt undeserved. “Didn’t you hear? The bloodless one said he was going to ring the bell. Better get yourself moving, you want any kind of view. Should be a quick fell.”
“Bloodless?”
Her eyes slanted in suspicion. “Not of the curias?”
He nodded. Froze. “You mean the Skylark boy?”
“Why should I know his name? Or you?” She hustled down the hill.
It had to be Jesstin. How many “bloodless” could there be in Rivenholde? The gleaming hubris of an unrepentant heathen must be a powerful intoxicant indeed.
But the woman’s prognostication was worrying. A quick fell. If those of the blood rarely survived, then Jesstin didn’t stand a chance.
Jesstin dying would resolve a considerable obstacle in Taven’s life, but it couldn’t happen as long as he was bonded to Ellie.
And they had bigger problems, one in more immediate need of solving.
Taven had sensed there was much more unsaid when Acheron had made an offhand remark about Ryquin’s interest in Jesstin.
The cousins didn’t have the same goals. If both had been in his head, neither could be trusted. Acheron seemed to want Taven to bond with Ellie as badly as Taven wanted it for himself, and while the man probably thought revealing that had been comforting, it was the opposite.
Could he have helped her sooner if he’d ignored them?
Was any of it true?
Jesstin might be the one person Taven could trust until he could decide the best course for Ellie.
His harried path took him down the hill, weaving through several rows of trellises and floral pathways.
Even at his height, he couldn’t see anything in the thick of it, but he followed the crowd’s direction and emerged in a small opening that offered a more direct view.
The maze’s hedges were too tall to see inside, but he spotted a tent just outside.
Underneath the canopy, a group of women were weaving large strips of leather around a man’s arms and legs.
Taven jogged down to the tent but was abruptly halted by the crossed spears of two guards. “Easy. Easy. I’m a friend of the bloodless.”
Jesstin’s head swiveled his way. “Oh, the fuck he—” His mouth hung on the end of his last word as Taven drilled him with an urgent look. He huffed out an aggravated, “give us a moment.”
The women tied their strips, exchanging looks as they curtsied at Jesstin and slipped out of the tent. Jesstin was flexing his arms, examining the bindings, when Taven walked in.
“What the hell do you want, Considine? Come to cheer my imminent demise?”
“No, I came to speak with you.” Taven would cheer the man’s demise when Ellie was safe. “If you’re here, where’s Ellie?”
Jesstin shrugged.
“You left her alone?”
“I left her in the middle of a goddamn storm of glass.” Jesstin gestured at a gash on his face. He dropped his hand. “Untwist your knickers. She was fine when I saw her last.”
Another chaos event. No, Ellie wasn’t fine, but she could handle herself until he talked the stupid man out of getting himself killed.
“They say it’s been over a decade since they had a winner,” Jesstin said. “Many seasons since someone was stupid enough to try it. I don’t think they were ready for me.” He laughed at his own words.
“What’s the leather for?” Taven asked. He wasn’t sure where to begin.
“To keep my clothes from strangling me when the branches come alive and drag me to the netherworld.”
Taven swallowed. “I’m sure that won’t happen.”
“Aw, you’re worried?” Jesstin’s mouth turned down in mock sorrow. “Or just sizing up the likelihood of me getting eviscerated by a million angry corpses?”
Few men could bring him to such rage with so little provocation. “If you die, Ellie dies.”
“You sure about that?”
Jesstin Skylark was an abomination, a bastard who didn’t have the decency to retreat into obscurity like the other unwanted children of the world, instead boldly flaunting his degeneracy by growing rich off the degeneracy of others.
But he also seemed ready to die to keep Ellie from a similar fate, and that was the reminder Taven needed in order to say, “You cannot do this, Jesstin.”
“Jesstin?” He beamed in amusement. “Boy, you really do want something from me.”
“No, that’s not true,” Taven said evenly. He rolled his hands into fists in his pockets. “But we want the same thing.”
Jesstin laughed. He gave the knots on his ankles a tug. “You also want to see yourself transformed into a heaping pile of shit, so your external form finally matches what’s inside? What are the odds?”
Easy. He’s not dealing with the same volume of wits you have. He cannot help acting like a base illborn. “We both want to protect Ellie’s well-being.”
Jesstin’s humor evaporated. “Get the fuck out of here and let me die in peace.”
“I’m serious.” Taven moved in front of Jesstin, who recoiled in disgust when he drew close. “She’s not safe here.”
“No?” Jesstin’s smug astonishment was almost enough for Taven to kill him right then and there, spare the maze the trouble.
“Golly, Considine, and here I thought she was home. Isn’t that what you and all these other cultish fucks keep saying?
That she’s home? That this is her blood? This is where she belongs?”
Say it. You can deal with his attitude when she’s safe. “I was wrong.” Another bell rang. Both men cringed at the deafening toll. There wasn’t time. “I don’t know what they want from her, but we need to get her out of here so I can assess what to do next.”
“Like you always have? Right? The only one who knows ‘what’s best’ for your Ellie?” Jesstin shook his head. “If you believe the words coming out of your mouth, why are you here, trying to convince the one person standing in your way to keep standing in your way?”
Taven almost laughed at the way Jesstin thought he was an actual barrier between him and Ellie. He was a detour was all, a bump in a road full of deep ruts. “She almost died tonight, and though you may find this challenging to grasp, I’m just as horrified as you. More.”