12. Cassiel
Iride back to Caerthalen with the rest of the knights, barely speaking a word to anyone. Most of the party is quiet, as it happens. I think they’re embarrassed about how easily they were tricked.
You weren’t, I want to tell them. The trap was for me, and I fell right into it.
I don’t feel embarrassed, though. I’m not entirely sure how I feel. Annoyed that she used magic on me again. Mortified to share the same space with her. Unnerved by her existence in general.
And maybe, worst of all, just a little bit hopeful—if her proposition is real. For all that my mind tries to convince me it’s another trick, that she can lie, that she isn’t to be trusted… I don’t think she’s lying about that.
Dain keeps close to my side as we ride through the gates, saying little until we get back to my room. I sit down at the table, the ghost of her louder than ever. It’s like she’s here, sitting opposite me. It’s like she never left.
Dain stands next to the space where she sat. “What happened in the forest?”
I inhale shakily. “I saw her,” I tell him. “Well, not saw, obviously. But… she was there.”
“You spoke with her?” Dain inches closer.
I nod.
“What did she say?”
“A lot,” I manage, as Robin places his head on my knee.
“Can you summarise?”
I swallow. “She said she thinks she can give me back my sight.”
Dain inhales, slow and sharp. He lowers himself into her chair. For a long moment, he doesn’t speak.
“How?” he asks eventually.
“She couldn’t give me all the specifics, but it would take some time,” I tell him. “The man in Caldrin was her doing, it appears. She… she wants me to go into the woods with her. Wants to show me something, apparently. She didn’t ask for anything else.”
Dain goes quiet again. “When do you leave?”
“I haven’t decided whether or not to—”
“Yeah, you have,” Dain says. “Of course you’re going to go with her.”
“I can’t leave—”
“You can,” says Dain. “It’s not like we’re in an active war situation, there’s no visiting dignitaries, no one to offend with your absence. If you don’t go, you’ll spend the rest of your life—in the dark—wondering what would have happened if you went.”
I sigh. Dain is, unfortunately or otherwise, quite right. I have to go. I’m only dithering because I want there to be another solution—one that keeps me here, on my own turf. Her ghost is a lot easier to contend with than her person.
“I’m supposed to meet her tomorrow at dusk at the border of the forest,” I tell Dain.
“I should come with you,” Dain says.
“I’m fairly sure I’m supposed to go alone.”
“Let me rephrase,” Dain says, “I should pretend to go with you. I’ll accompany you to the border, then disappear for two weeks. I’ll meet you again at the Rosey Duckling when the time is up.”
“Angling for a holiday, Ser Hollowbrook?”
“One could argue I’m due one, Sire.”
He’s right. He’s right on both accounts. Taking Dain with me will lend some legitimacy to my cover story, whatever it is, and he really could do with a break. At the same time—
“If something goes wrong, you’ll be blamed. People will demand to know what really happened—”
“I don’t think Wren’s going to hurt you,” he says, with far more confidence than he should. I hate the way he says her name. I ought to have banned it. “Besides,” he adds, more breezily, “If you don’t come back, I’ll just say you got eaten by a troglodyte.”
“Troglodytes don’t eat people,” I tell him. “They’re reptilian. A common misunderstanding. They only eat—” I stop. “Which, of course, you know.”
I’m fairly sure Dain is grinning at me. “I’d come up with a more convincing story in the event of your tragic demise.”
“Make me brave, Hollowbrook.”
“No other way to describe you, Sire.”
The words warm my chest, but I try not to give them weight. “Fetch Niora for me,” I tell him. “And step outside when she gets here.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” he says, although there’s a trace of hurt in his voice. I’ve never kept secrets from him before.
This one, I will, though. He must know that if I go missing on his watch, he’ll never be allowed to be a guard again.
His knighthood will be forfeit. He’d never ask for it, but I need to make sure he’s taken care of in the event of my demise.
I can ensure he has a pension and a place to go, at very least.
Niora arrives in a few short moments. I tell her a very condensed version of the truth—that I’m going away for two weeks on a mission that I hope will restore my sight.
She does not, of course, like my plans, and makes every attempt to dissuade me.
But I’m the regent. There’s no higher authority than mine while my mother sleeps.
“Niora, my mind is made up,” I tell her crisply. “I do not want to hear a word against my plans. I merely wish for you to negate the risks.”
I swear, I can hear her purse her lips. “Very well, Your Excellency,” she says tartly.
For what it’s worth, she approves of my appointing Aunt Imogen as regent in my absence. While she’s not directly related to the throne, she holds her own title, and is well-liked by the court. In the event of my untimely demise, I’ve no doubt she can hold the throne until Runara comes of age.
I run my hands down my face. I don’t want this for Runara. I don’t want this for myself.
Dain packs for me. We don’t speak much. I spend most of my time in my study with Niora and Aunt Imogen, giving instructions, settling affairs. I don’t have much time.
But more important than any plans for the kingdom… I have to speak to Ru.
I set off with no one but Robin, knocking softly on her door. “Come in,” she says.
There’s a rustle of papers as I enter. She’s sitting at her desk, I think.
She bounds over as soon as I cross the threshold, leaping into my arms. I pray she never gets too old to do this, and yet a part of me hopes that she does, if it means I get to watch her grow, to be beside her until she’s too old to be a child.
I scoop her up and take her over to the bed, holding her tightly. Of everyone I’ve told my plans to, she’s the one I’ve dreaded speaking to the most. I know what this will mean for her.
“Ru,” I say softly. “I’m going away for a while.”
She stiffens in my arms. “How long?” she whispers.
“Two weeks,” I tell her.
Her little hands ball into my clothes. “Where?”
“The Duskfen Forest.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It is.”
She swallows. “Who’s going with you?”
“Robin,” I tell her. “And… Wren.”
It’s been weeks, months even, since I said her name aloud, but Ru doesn’t seem to mind it. She softens in my arms.
“All right,” she says.
“All right?”
“Wren will keep you safe.”
I hate that she seems so sure of that. She’s a child. She doesn’t understand what Wren did, that she isn’t to be trusted—
But if it brings her some comfort, I’ll take it.
“Don’t tell anyone that I’m with her, all right?” I ask. “Aunt Imogen and Dain know. But no one else. You can speak to them if you need to.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she assures me. “I promise.”
I kiss her forehead, and swear to the Saints themselves to do everything in my power to make it back to her.
Whatever I have to do.
Dain and I ride out to the Rosey Duckling together as planned, not long before dusk. We grab a meal together that neither of us really eats. I’m fairly sure Robin gets fed almost all of both portions.
“Want me to come with you to the edge?” Dain asks.
Yes. “No,” I tell him, because I know I’m supposed to go alone, and I want to spare Dain having to see her again unless necessary. He must have his opinions of her, his own questions. “Robin can get me there.”
“Right you are, Sire.”
He hands me my bag of belongings and sees me to the door. He hovers awkwardly around me, like he isn’t sure what to do, or where to put himself. “Take care,” he manages.
I nod. I click with my tongue for Robin, and we head off down the path towards the forest. It’s painfully, desperately quiet. For a moment, I’m afraid Wren won’t come at all. For a moment, I’m afraid she will.
Robin barks. Friend.
Someone leaps out of a tree. I recognise the sound of her breath and the scent of her wildflower skin.
“Evening,” she says. There’s no smile in her voice. “Are you ready?”
No. “I am,” I say, because I refuse to let her see any weakness.
“Did you bring the totem?”
The totem I can’t bear to touch, but that I’ve had Dain move around a dozen parts of the castle as a precaution, not knowing what could be done to me if it fell into the hands of my enemies. It’s wrapped up in my backpack.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She bends down and rubs Robin. His tail thumps against my leg. “He’s a lovely boy,” she tells me. “Beautiful colour.”
“Oh, is he?”
I’ve actually never asked what colour he is. It hardly seemed to matter. He was a soft, good boy. Everything else was irrelevant.
“What’s his name?” she asks, when the pause stretches far too long.
I hesitate. “Robin,” I tell her.
“Robin?” There’s something like a smile in her voice. I hate it. “Did you replace me with a dog?”
“He came with the name,” I snap, though the irony isn’t lost on me. “Dain found him for me. He used to be a companion dog for an elderly blind woman. I think she named him.”
“I see.”
She clears her throat, straightening up. “Shall we?” she says. “I’ve got a place for us to stay, about an hour away on foot.”
I groan. Walking alone with her through the forest seems like a kind of torture, but this is what I’ve signed up for. A whole two weeks of it.
This better be worth it.
“All right,” I tell her, “lead the way.”
I’ve been on countless walks with Wren during the time she was with me. We’ve never done them silently. She’s never walked so far apart from me. I used to insist on taking her hand, insisting, at first, because I needed to, when all along it was because I just wanted to touch her.
I don’t want to touch her now.
The walk is long, but easier than I imagined. We seem to be following a straight path. There’s little in the way of undergrowth to climb over, which surprises me. I don’t remember there being a road here.
“Are you making a path?” I ask her, curiosity overruling distrust.
“No,” she tells me. “The Duskfen is.”
“It parts for you?”
“If it wants to.”
I swear there have been times it’s parted for me, too, but that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve been trying to harm it.
Eventually, the solid earthen path gives way to something damper. Running water sounds close by. My cane bangs against rock.
“Nearly there,” Wren says.
She leads us into a cave. It’s tall enough—just—to stand in, although my hair brushes the stone ceiling in places. I reach out with my hands, finding crates, barrels, some kind of bed, and paper pinned to the walls.
“Careful,” Wren says. “They’re well ordered.”
“What are they?”
“Maps, mostly,” she says. “Star charts. Not much else.” She hovers beside me for a moment. “There’s a spare bedroll to your left,” she tells me. “You should take that one.”
I want to argue with her that I’m not tired, but I am, and I want to sit down.
The cave walls are uncomfortably close. I lower myself to the bed roll and pull a fur around my shoulders.
It’s cold, in the cave. Robin sits beside me while Wren builds a fire in record time. Flames are burning in seconds.
She must have used magic.
“When do we begin?” I ask her.
She sighs. “Can I have the totem?”
I push over my pack, giving her free rein to investigate it. There’s nothing personal there, nothing she can hold over me. She locates the totem and sits back.
“The first step… may not be pretty,” she tells me.
“Because it’s been such a picnic so far.”
She says nothing for a moment. Good. That was supposed to hurt.
“I have to warn you,” she says, “The man in Caldrin—he didn’t have a spell on him. There’s a chance this might not work.”
“I figured as much.”
“I’ve been looking for a way to break the connection between you and the totem for weeks,” she explains. “Unfortunately, it’s keyed to Moira, the original caster, or one of her bloodline.”
“Great.”
“I can weaken it,” she tells me, “but—”
“But?”
“We need to pull out the pins,” she tells me. “That’s the first step. However we do it, it’s going to hurt.”
I was prepared for the possibility of that. It made sense. I’d had Edwin look at the totem before, wondering if my eyesight could be restored simply by pulling them out. Edwin said I would likely do more harm than good, that I’d still be left with ruined eyes at the end of it. But now…
“I pull them out, and you give me a cure?”
“It’ll still take days, weeks even—”
“But that’s the first step?”
“Yes.”
I’ve grown used to pain. I can handle it.
I grab the totem and find the pins.
“Cassiel—” Wren shouts.
It’s already too late. I’ve yanked them free. They ping against the stone floor.
Something drips next to them. It takes me far too long to realise it’s my blood.