Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (54 page)

I'd wanted to tell her about Katja, but what had happened between us felt as though it'd been days or weeks in the past. Claire couldn't stand to take any more upon her shoulders, and I resolved to handle the issue – or lack thereof – on my own. She pressed her nose to the top of my head, and had Claire been wearing anything else, and had Claire been anyone else, we would've fallen asleep there and then.

“It's already dark,” I pointed out, worming my way out from under her arm.

I held my hands out and she took them, frowning but letting me pull her to her feet. Claire was waiting for me to make my excuses and leave. In the past, I would've assumed that I'd overstayed my welcome, thinking it better to leave of my own volition than have her ask me to head back to my chambers.

Not this time. I placed my hands against her collarbone where one of the armour's buckles was pulled tight, and Claire watched with a furrowed brow as I tried to work it loose.

“You need to—” I said, frustrated when it didn't give. “You need to take off your armour. You can't sleep like this, Claire.”

Amusement was a bizarre thing to see creep back into her features, but it was there, no matter how faint. She undid the buckle on the first try, and I watched the way she pulled the strap tight before easing the prong out of the hole. I tried again with one of the straps at her side, and she stood by patiently as I removed the toughest and heaviest piece of armour from her chest.

Claire held out her arms and I removed the pauldrons and the gloves, her leg plates and her belts, fingers not once faltering. I pulled the Kastelirian armour away piece by piece, slowly making my way through to Claire beneath. She stepped out of her boots, left in nothing but a thin under shirt and leggings.

We left the armour in a pile on the floor, and I led her by the hand to the bed, pushing the curtains to the side and tugging her in after me.

Claire found her way beneath the covers without putting up the fuss I expected her to, and I burrowed in next to her, almost melting into her arms with the stiff armour gone. She held me close and I wrapped my arms around her just as tightly, not foolish enough to believe that my presence alone would lull her to sleep.

“It's alright if you can't fall asleep,” I murmured into her neck, “But at least try to relax, okay?”

She kissed the top of my head and I did all I could to stay awake for as long as she was bound to. And though I knew that seeing nothing but dragons and flame behind my eyelids whenever I closed them wouldn't stop the same thoughts from plaguing Claire's mind, I couldn't banish the images from my mind; I had my arms around her, and yet I couldn't hold her close enough.

Claire awoke with the birds, but I remained at the mercy of exhaustion. The mattress rose as she pulled away from me, and I made a few futile grasps at the empty space next to me before rolling over. I heard the patter of feet against stone through the murk of my dreams, replaced minutes or years later by the clipping of boots. The curtains were drawn aside once more, and Claire, back within her second skin, murmured something about baths that made little sense to me.

After yawning myself awake in earnest a few hours later, I found the door leading off Claire's room open, and the stone bath within filled. It was big enough for two, or even three people, raised off the floor on sturdy stone legs. I dipped my fingers into the water and found it cold, but Claire had left a tray of kindling half pulled out, matches propped up on the edge.

I'd been making do with rivers and basins for so long that I didn't hesitate to take my chance, now that I had it. I got the fire going, closed the door and pulled the latch, and sunk into the gently warming water. Soaps in reds and blues that smelled of berries and crushed petals were piled along the side, and I tried them all, lathing them between my palms and spending far too much time scrubbing myself down.

Hunger eventually lured me out of the bath, and with wrinkled fingers, I grabbed the neatly folded towels and dried my hair. I even went so far as to comb it into place.

I could've forgotten what the last day of the Phoenix Festival meant, had I not run into Katja on the way back to my chamber.

Her fingers wrapped loosely around the door handle, having already knocked, and she pulled her hand back at the sight of me.

“Rowan! There you are, dear. Didn't you stay here last night?”

“Actually, I—”

But Katja was in no mood to wait for a reply. Taking my arm, she whisked me in the direction I'd come from, not giving me the chance to point out that I'd yet to have breakfast. A staircase I hadn't dared to venture up rose before us: it was wider than any other I'd rushed up or down in the castle, littered with as many guards as it was portraits.

With Katja leading the way, none of them thought about stopping me, which wasn't to say they didn't narrow their eyes in scrutiny. The guards were more alert than ever of late, and the arrival of diplomats from Agados had done nothing to relax them. I hurried up the stairs, wanting to put them behind me, coming to a single room on the next level.

“I am ever so glad I ran into you, dear,” Katja said, patting me on the back of my hand. “I'm afraid I need moral support, you see. It's a dreary business, really, discussing official matters with my mother.”

I came to a halt so abrupt that Katja's hold slipped and she was two paces ahead of me before she thought to glance back. Once I was still, I was able to properly take in the landing. A larger portrait was flanked by smaller depictions of dark-skinned men with hard, bright eyes and stern smiles. Queen Kidira's brothers, I thought. Kastelir had no history that could be traced further back than its only rulers, so the Queen could hardly fill her castle with paintings of her predecessors.

“Katja,” I said softly, hating to disappoint her. “I can't.”

“What ever do you mean?” Katja asked, but pieced it together for herself quickly enough. “Oh!
Oh
, Rowan, dear, do think it through clearly—you'll only ever draw suspicion to yourself if you attempt to hide from my mother. I do apologise, honestly. I didn't think... no, no. You're right. If you'll be uncomfortable, you ought to leave.”

Making a faint effort to smile at me, Katja drew in a breath, turning to the arching ivory doors at the end of the landing. Her shoulders rose, and I doubted that having Queen Kidira for a mother made it any easier to talk to her.

“I'm here now,” I said, relenting. “Might as well.”

Katja brightened considerably, and the door clicked open a fraction of a second before she had the chance to knock.

Akela stepped out, fastening her gauntlets, stopping with an “
Ah
.” Bowing her head, she said, “Lady Kouris, Northwood,” and stepped between us, taking the stairs down two at a time.

“Hm,” Katja said flatly. The door swung shut, but she didn't waste time knocking. She turned the handle and stepped in, and Queen Kidira, having heard Akela announce us, didn't turn from her desk. She sat writing in a long, purple robe, and Katja stood in the centre of the parlour, arms folded across her chest.

Hands clasped behind my back, I dared to look off to the side for seconds at a time, lest Queen Kidira turn and see the way my attention had wandered. The chamber wasn't entirely unlike the others I'd visited throughout the castle, littered with bookcases and sofas and intricately woven rugs, though the fireplace against the far wall looked big enough to cook a grown pig over. There were weapons in one corner, spears with carved shafts and engraved blades, lined up inside of a glass cabinet. There were fewer portraits within the room, and the one that caught my eye was almost identical to the painting in Katja's chamber. Nothing else within the parlour was particularly telling, save for an orange stream of fabric, faded with age, carelessly dropped in a corner.

“Good morning, mother,” Katja said, finally relenting.

Without turning from the letter she was working on, Queen Kidira said, “Good morning, Kouris. What is Ightham's squire doing with you?”

“We are
friends
,” Katja said, offended on behalf of both of us.

“How nice for her,” Queen Kidira said dryly, inkwell ringing as she tapped the nib of her quill against the glass. “How may I help you? We both have a busy day ahead of us.”

“I simply came to see whether you'd had a change of heart,” Katja said, rocking on the balls of her feet.

Reluctantly, Queen Kidira neglected her letters in favour of Katja, and stared right through her. Katja, to her credit, didn't flinch, and Queen Kidira settled for frowning when intimidation didn't work.

“The Agadians are biting at our heels over succession in the guise of
trade agreements
, and you wish to rescind the only entertainment in the Kingdom that might divert their attention for a few moments?” Queen Kidira asked.

“Entertainment? Mother, this is—it's
archaic
. It's
cruel
. We ought to leave this sort of punishment in the past, where it belongs.”

“Archaic?” The slight raise of Queen Kidira's brow was the closest I'd come to seeing her laugh. “The Kingdom is scarcely older than you are.”

Katja scoffed, having heard that line time and time again. There was no getting around what they were talking about. I stared at the edge of Queen Kidira's desk, neither daring to look at her or away from her, willing myself to get through it without flinching. This was the real test. If I could endure Queen Kidira's scathing beliefs about necromancy, then I could pass for something less sinister around anyone.

“Yet you based these laws on mere
legends
that had been passed down from Myros, as though—”

“As though necromancers were not responsible for the war?”

“In the same way that
people
are responsible for wars, perhaps. I hate to be the one to tell you this, mother, but you are wasting a great opportunity,” Katja said, pausing until Queen Kidira relented, waving a hand to gesture for Katja to continue. “We have a necromancer inside the castle, and uncle lies unmoving in a crypt—”

Queen Kidira rose to her feet with a force that made Katja start, and I couldn't have backed away if I'd tried. Rooted to the ground, I watched as she approached, staring up at her daughter. She wrapped her fingers and thumb around Katja's jaw, gaze burrowing into her, and Katja's fingers curled towards her palms.

“When you are Queen, you may change whichever rules you see fit,” Queen Kidira said, letting go of her.

Katja's shoulders slumped and she looked to the side, letting out a heavy breath.

“Ridiculous,” she said, defeated. “Everyone knows you shall never die.”

I thought that was to be the end of it. A knock at the door concluded their short-lived debate, and one of Queen Kidira's maids entered with a freshly cleaned dress hung over one arm. Queen Kidira nodded in approval, though it hadn't yet been held up, and the maid made a point of bowing before taking it into one of the adjoining rooms.

Queen Kidira would leave to change, Katja would reluctantly attend the so-called festivities, and I could slink back to my chamber and think about anything but fire.

“You,” Queen Kidira said, tilting her head towards me on her way to the adjoining room. “What is your take on the situation? Has my daughter succeeded in brainwashing you yet?”

“I...” I had no choice but to betray Katja. My tongue was as lead, only able to work itself loose when I dared to defend myself. “I'm from Felheim. I-it's not my place to questions your laws. Your Majesty.”

Queen Kidira's mouth slanted to the side, and she left us without another word, bored by my answer. The door closed behind her and I drew in a breath, blindly following Katja out into the corridor.

“Well, I tried,” she said, sighing drearily, and in a Kingdom of millions, she was the only one who had.

*

Katja was swept away by a sea of scholars and servants, half of them insisting that she introduce them to the Agadian diplomats, the other half fussing over the fact that she wasn't dressed yet. Clearly, I didn't see Katja as the servants did; to me, it seemed as though she owned an endless variety of dresses, each one as nice as the last, making it impossible to render her anything less than presentable.

I wanted to spend the day with Charley and Calais, but knew the open area would be full of nobles and guards with nothing to talk about but the twin executions, and found myself wanting for distractions. With everyone else occupied by the Agadian diplomats, the only entertainment available to me was in the form of books; I wasn't used to having so much time to waste. Back in the village, I worked from sun up to sundown and often longer, whether it was out in the fields or in the apothecary’s.

Resolving to finally make myself useful, I headed out in search of Ocari. It wasn't difficult to find them: the general rule seemed to be that if you didn't stop moving, you'd run into them, sooner or later. A flock of servants were hurrying down the bare-stone corridor between one of the larger kitchens and its respective pantry, and I tailed them, keeping out of the way while they were issued their orders.

Once the servants scattered, I darted after Ocari, earning a raised eyebrow from them when I fell into step by their side.

“Yes?” they asked, and if nothing else, their tone was one of recognition.

“I was wondering if there was anything I could help with,” I said, well aware that my intentions were selfish. “—I know you have everything running smoothly down here! But it'd be a favour to me, really.”

Ocari took time out of their day to stop on the spot, looking me up and down a though I'd just offered to take on the role of Queen Kidira's personal handmaid.

“Enthusiasm goes a long way, but listen here—you're a Felheimer, brought here by a woman we're all pretending
isn't
Queen Kouris,” Ocari said, sighing. “The less we know about you the better. And I mean that in the kindest way possible, I really do.”

“Please—” I tried, scurrying after them, before the woman hovering in the corner with a mop in hand could get a word in edgeways. “Put me in a store room and give me something to clean. No one has to know I'm there.”