Clearwater Dawn (6 page)

“Highness…”

“You are testing my patience, tyro.”

“Highness, the alarm is sounded.”

And in her look, Chriani caught a sudden uncertainty.

“What of the alarm?” she said, her voice the same but something changed in her manner where she watched him.

“The alarm is sounded,” he said again because he didn’t know what else to say. He felt the dark emotion in him already slamming down around his ability to think, had to focus to find the words. “The Bastion is locked down, and the Princess Lauresa is not in her chamber. I am here for you.”

She hadn’t recognized him. He felt the anger flare around that, spread like the hiss of flame across kindling stoked from dying embers.

“I am on orders from Barien, who is your warden,” Chriani said. He took a step closer to her, made sure to keep the required five paces between them. Of all the guards of the garrison, he’d been the exception to that rule once, a long time ago now. He brought his own blade level with hers.

“Highness, I am a warrior of the guard and adjutant to your warden, and on his orders, I am here to escort you to your chambers and ensure your safety there.”

“You sword belt is on backwards and upside down, warrior of the guard.”

Chriani glanced down despite himself, felt the scabbard prod his leg again where he saw she was right. He felt an unfamiliar burning in his cheeks.

“You will accompany me, highness. I have my orders.”

“You will get out…”

The princess faltered. Chriani saw the flick of her eyes, the gleam of blue catching the light as he twisted to follow her gaze. He’d left the dark door open behind him. In the faint light of the corridor, his eyes caught the ripple of shadow that meant movement in the distance. Footsteps, almost silent.

“You fool,” she whispered.

Chriani wasn’t listening, sheathing his sword with effort as he turned for the door, made to call out to whoever was racing toward them. No idea what he was supposed to say, but he was fairly certain that begging for mercy would be a large part of it.

Then the princess was moving behind him, one hand across his mouth even as the other brought the dagger up, close to his throat as she dragged him back. Chriani was startled, as much at being grabbed at all as he was at the strength in her arm. As he stumbled back, though, he felt instinct override any uncertainty. Her blade was a hand’s-width from him, more than enough space to go for her wrist. No room to get a decent strike in with the other hand, but her flank was vulnerable and in easy reach, or the soft muscle of her thigh, one sharp blow that would drop her.

But even through the instinct, through all the memory of all the hand-to-hand training he’d done at Barien’s side, he knew he couldn’t do it.

No idea what any of this was about, but he couldn’t hurt her. Not anymore.

He went for the dagger, though. No point in having his throat slit, by accident or otherwise. But even as his hand clamped around her wrist, Lauresa sang.

Close to his ear, barely a whisper, her voice unleashed a sudden pulse of blood and uncertainty that pounded in his head. A twisting cascade of sound slipped through him like wind through the bare branches of winter trees. He didn’t understand the words, didn’t know the melody, but it hit him hard.

It was the voice he remembered, all the imperious tone gone like swiftly shed armor. The echo of a childhood he’d been trying to not look back to anymore.

At the doorway, the first figures pushed in, but they weren’t the robed stewards he’d expected, fists spouting fire and lightning like every carefully retold tale of the tower had warned. It was the regular garrison, attack dogs released first, balisters dropping in the doorway behind them. But even as they did, the gleam of the guttering candle twisted, a sudden fountain of darkness erupting. Across the room, a roiling wall of black eclipsed the light like a silent storm, Chriani frozen for the moment it took Lauresa to pull her hand from his mouth, breathe a single word into his ear.

“Move…”

Where his wrist was still around her dagger hand, she pulled him, the clamor of voice and movement loud beyond the shadow. Chriani heard the familiar shunt of crossbow fire, four bolts spraying past them, fired blindly. He heard the dogs fall back with an uncertain yelping, the sudden fall of unnatural black a thing they wouldn’t enter.

Two strides beyond the table, tall windows loomed, black-framed and locked tight. The princess was still singing, Chriani realized, not noticing her start again.

Then he blinked, and the one window she dragged him towards wasn’t locked after all, Lauresa kicking it open somehow as she leaped to the ledge. Chriani’s momentum pulled him up behind her even as he clutched at the frame, trying to slow himself, but her hands were tight in his tunic now, no time to break her grip as she pushed off. His hold on the window not enough to support them both, his weight tipping into hers.

He felt her arms go around him. She was singing, still.

He forced himself to look down. He saw his own death beckon from dark stone below.

A frozen moment of time.

He felt the freezing wind of the sea below the city against his face, felt his feet slip from the ledge to empty air. Then they were falling, the Bastion outwall a dark blur below them.

He felt the urge to shout, not from fear but from anger at what he knew Barien would call a fool’s death when they found his body. A stupid way to die, he thought. The princess he’d been charged to protect, dead beside him. All the questions that would be asked. All the answers he would have liked to have heard himself.

He felt her body against his, her hands at his neck and the small of his back. Her face was close, Lauresa shorter than him by three hands but pushed up against him as they twisted, still upright somehow. Their legs would shatter first, he knew, an endless moment of pain to herald the shock that would ultimately kill them.

A frozen moment of time. He felt her breath trace his cheek, the song still spilling from her in a whisper.

And without knowing he’d even done it, Chriani found himself kissing her. His mouth pressed soft to hers as he drank in the song, felt it fade with the sharp intake of her breath.

He changed his mind suddenly. This was a good way to die.

And then, even as he recognized the timeless stretching of that last moment, he became dimly aware that the moment was somehow stretching even further than it should be. His mouth was still locked to Lauresa’s, her lips impossibly soft against his, and as he hung onto that sensation, he realized that in his being able to be aware of that sensation, he was somehow still alive and kissing the princess long after they should both be dead.

He risked opening his eyes, saw the stone of the walls slipping past at what seemed like a remarkably slow pace. He felt the impact as they landed, a sharp jolt in his knees that made him stumble, but no more than he would have expected from a badly timed jump over the orchard wall. The orchard was off-limits to all but the prince’s family and invited guests, so he’d done his fair share of badly timed jumps in and out of it when he was younger, generally one step ahead of the dogs that patrolled there in summer.

Where he staggered back against cold stone, Lauresa was still in his arms, shorter than him now, the embrace broken where they both found their footing. She stared at him with a look that was partly surprise and partly something else he couldn’t name. He could feel his heart pounding hard as he leaned down to kiss her again.

The princess hit him, then, a backhand blow coming so fast that even he didn’t see it. Chriani felt the imprint of knuckles and rings rising on his cheek where his head snapped back and took a moment to right itself. She flexed her fingers, didn’t seem to feel it. In her look, the surprise and whatever else it had been was gone.

“Move,” she said again, then she was running, racing eastward along the dark outwall above the training grounds. Where Chriani followed, he could hear voices from above, didn’t have to look to know that the garrison would be at the window, searching for the bodies that weren’t there. Dimly, he wondered where the guards were who should already have been racing to intercept them where they stood, regular patrols walking the Bastion perimeter beneath the lights of the prince’s quarter above. Then he remembered the alarm, the garrison mustered inside the Bastion, perhaps. He didn’t have time to wonder why.

Lauresa slowed suddenly, dark shutters ahead that were unlocked somehow where she pulled them open. From behind them came the sound of something hitting the stones, light swelling as the guards above tossed evenlamps down to the wall, but the princess had already dragged them both back inside, running left down a corridor Chriani didn’t recognize. Somewhere in the depths of the kitchens, he guessed, dark for the night.

A hundred paces down the corridor, Chriani heard movement ahead of them, tugging at Lauresa’s sleeve where he pointed. She pushed a window open quickly, a narrow ledge beyond, her hand locked to Chriani’s again as she hauled him out. Through darkened glass, he saw figures pounding past as she led him carefully into shadow, the Darkmoon obscured where it had already dropped beyond the western walls, the light of the Clearmoon in the opposite sky thankfully dim through low cloud.

All around, the keep was coming alive, a storm of light and voices carrying where evenlamps burned on all the outer walls now. And where he recognized the light of the stables across from them, Chriani managed to orient himself, realizing where they were even as he saw Lauresa stop, peering up to the underside of the tower. Her balcony loomed above her where she clutched the corner of the Bastion wall.

“Climb,” she said, and then she was gone, hands and bare feet clinging to rough stone as she ascended. Chriani kicked his boots off, stuffed them clumsily inside his jacket as he followed her. He found purchase easily in the weathered walls, but even at his best speed, Lauresa hit the balcony well ahead of him, climbing up and over with an unnatural grace. As he pulled himself after her, his scabbard scraped stone, still pushing the wrong way.

Inside the princess’s chamber, he shut the balcony doors behind him, remembered that they’d been locked from the inside before. He saw Lauresa padding silently for the curtained alcove and the door to the corridor. His feet and hands were already numb, his boots fumbled on.

Slowly, Chriani approached.

“Princess…”

His voice was loud in the silence, Lauresa turning back to hold a hand up in warning. He felt his heart beating fast, felt the loosening grip of an elation and a desperation that he hadn’t had time to realize he was even feeling. He tried to judge the time that had passed. Only moments since they’d jumped from the tower window, the princess running from a garrison who would have answered to her orders over anyone but her father’s.

There must be an explanation, he thought. It would all make sense once she explained it.

“Will you tell me why we are running?” he said, quieter now. Lauresa was pressed to the outside door. “Will you tell me how we survived?”

She glanced back to him sharply, as if she might have forgotten he was there.

“No,” she said.

Lauresa slipped through the main chamber and covered the glow of the evenlamps with shrouds of grey cloth, speaking softly as she went.

“The hall is clear but it won’t be for long. The door still standing says they haven’t been here yet.”

The last light was covered, the room in shadow where the glow from the bed platform filtered through its scrim of white lace. Where the Clearmoon broke beyond the window behind Chriani, its pale light caught her eyes, sharp as she stepped close.

“When they come, you will challenge them. Confirm their identities. You were on guard outside when the alarm was raised. At my request and for my security, you took position within the alcove, resolved to stay here until relieved. You know nothing of what else happened tonight. You know nothing of what you saw in the tower.”

As she spoke, Chriani heard the voice from the tower again, the tone of someone who was used to giving orders that would be followed without question. More expectation than command. He felt the anger wash through him again, felt it twist suddenly around the memory of the kiss, Lauresa close enough that he could catch the scent of her hair.

“I know very well what I saw tonight,” he said evenly. He remembered that scent, from the fall that should have killed them, and from long before. One more thing he’d need to forget again. “I know what was done, princess, and whether you tell me why or no, I will not be directed to say otherwise by you.”

He tried for Barien’s voice, only half-successfully. Barien was good at giving orders and at the same time expressing how much he hated giving them, so that those who heard those orders were always very certain they didn’t want to have to hear them twice.

“I am obliged to protect you,” Chriani said, “not to lie for you.”

And Lauresa sang again, a quick trill of notes that spilled into the silence of the room like warm rain. With one fist, she seized the inseam of his leggings, the same strength in her that he’d felt across his cheek not a moment before. The other hand seized the lapis pendant at her neck, pulled it to within two fingers of his face. Around her fingers where they clutched the stone, a pulse of crackling energy flared white.