Chapter 5 #2
Tiernan takes over pulling the wagon, his free hand wrapping around mine.
We follow the Verge residents toward the courtyard where various logs, haybales, barrels, and other objects form makeshift seats.
On the platform, Dayfyd stands a head above a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair and tan leathery skin.
Dayfyd is revered and renowned in the Verge; everyone greets him with sincere enthusiasm during the day.
But he’s also unassuming—one of the people.
Chief Lyon Badeaux, however, is someone I’ve only heard about.
He’d be considered the equivalent of royalty within this haven.
Chief Lyon’s smile is warm, deep lines forming at the corners of his thin lips and small eyes.
“Welcome,” he says, leaning heavily on his ornate walking stick.
A plump man to his left translates the word into signed language.
My cheek twitches, but my smile is hindered by my fears about this announcement.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’ve been called here on such short notice. It is my displeasure to bring you news from Outside.” He pauses, as if for dramatic effect.
As I stare at the translator’s hands, everything seems to move as though we’re suspended in honey. The queen is dead, as is the heir to the throne. The words sink into my heart, numbing my body. Beside me, Tiernan tenses, his hand suddenly holding mine, squeezing tremulously.
Panic erupts around us. Dayfyd and Chief Badeaux wave their arms, trying to capture the attention of the crowd while people stand and pelt the platform with questions.
Taig begins flapping his arms, clearly distressed, but my limbs feel too heavy, and I find myself unable to move to comfort him.
Chiyo reaches into the wagon to unstrap him as my vision blurs.
The words can’t be true. I don’t want to believe them.
Things can change at the drop of a coin, but …
I close my eyes against the rapidly building pressure in my head as a dull throbbing spreads from my temples to the rest of my face. My chest tightens before I hear Tiernan’s voice in my head. “Durvla?”
I turn my gaze to him. I didn’t even feel his hands on my face before, but now it pulls me back to the present where everyone is still in an uproar.
I replay the rest of the news in my head: All of Erleya is under the duress of a military coup.
My breathing grows shallow as I try to focus on our surroundings. That proves to be unhelpful; people seem to be shouting over each other, some clinging to their loved ones as though it could protect them from the truth.
Chief Badeaux’s knuckles are white on the head of his cane. His face remains a mask of serenity as he methodically addresses one person at a time—as the uproar continues. I’ve never been so grateful that I can’t hear.
Tiernan quickly motions, “Let’s get back to the house.”
I rise on unsteady feet, making eye contact with Chiyo who nods and passes Taig to Tiernan. Together, we maneuver our way through the panicking crowd.
By the time we get to the house, my head throbs in time with the hammering of my heart. My legs take me straight to the bedroom where I drink a small vial of tincture for my headache and sit on the mattress to gather my composure.
A military coup.
Carys, dead.
I close my eyes and clasp my shaky hands together.
She can’t be dead. Grounding myself in the present, I breathe in slowly through my nose and out through my mouth.
In and out until my heart rate slows and my mind stops racing.
I turn my thoughts to Carys, trying to find even the smallest thread of her presence.
Some proof that she’s somewhere in this realm.
She has to be.
I sit there until the throbbing in my head resurfaces despite the tincture, and my limbs start to fall asleep.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
When I open my eyes, Tiernan is leaning against the closed bedroom door. He steps away from it, signing to me, “Anything?”
I shake my head, tears welling. “I was certain she would escape Paramount,” I say.
“So certain, I would’ve wagered my own life on it.
That dream I had … the … goddess.” I remember the song of Sunlagh that gave me the extra boost of willpower to daywalk to Carys.
After swallowing a few times, I say, “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
I keep trying to daywalk to her but …” I slowly shake my head again.
Tiernan sits on the bed, facing me. His hands are clenched in his lap, his jaw so tight that a muscle twitches in his cheek. My eyes trail the silvery scar that goes from his collarbone up the side of his neck. The scar he’s not wanted to discuss.
Back in Paramount, I’d dreamt of him bound in a dark room, a man looming over him.
My blood chills at the memory of it—at the very tactile fear that exuded from Tiernan and the tormented look in his eyes.
It’s similar to the look in his eyes now.
He’s always trying to comfort me; always the calm presence when I need him to be. But what about when he needs comfort?
“Do you know anything about this new sovereign?” I ask. “Chief Badeaux said he’s the commander of the Royal Brigade?”
His throat bobs before he nods. “Yes, I reported directly to him when I was still in the ranks,” he signs. “He’s someone who uses fear tactics to gain power.”
The hair stands up on the back of my neck.
“Carys—” I begin, my throat immediately constricting. “Do you think he would’ve killed her to take the crown?”
The color rushes from Tiernan’s face. I slide my hand into his surprisingly damp palm.
“I don’t believe he would’ve killed her,” Tiernan says after a few heartbeats. “I believe he’d want to use her.” He releases my hand suddenly. “We should get Taig ready for bed.”
I blink at him and nod as tears sting my eyes. He gets up without another word and stalks out of the room, leaving me behind to ruminate over the horrifying uncertainty of everything and the odd feeling that he’s keeping something important from me.