The Villain Keeper (17 page)

The thick stone walls were cold to the touch; torches
on them gave off faint light and fainter heat. He followed the sound of screaming winds and gentle breezes down stairs and around corners until he found Windy. She sat on a crumbling tomb, silver fur whirling in her wind, fire rodent dead in her jaw like a piece of limp coal.

“I've come to save you,” he said, because that was what future Elite Paladins said.

With a slow, leisurely stretch, she dropped from the tomb and settled to eat on the stone floor. Only when she was done did she stand and rub against his shins like a gentle breeze.

With her cradled in his arms, he walked back, but the only stairs he found led down, deeper into the ground, and to darker passageways. Not knowing which way to go, Caden sat under a torch and closed his eyes.

He awoke to the sound of yelling. “He's here!”

In moments, Caden was blinking up at his father's stoic face. Jasan stood back, looking weary. Maden towered behind him and let out a soft sigh. Chadwin seemed relieved.

“He'll be fine,” their father said, and wrapped Caden in his embroidered coat. “Keep this, and it will keep you warm.”

Maden, Jasan, and Chadwin looked surprised, envious even. Around Caden's shoulders, the coat was warm and soft. As soon as his father said it was Caden's, the fit became perfect; the fabric soothed his freezing skin.

After they were back to the castle proper and the medics and magicians had deemed Caden cold, foolish, but otherwise unharmed, his brothers returned to regarding him with—in order of birthright—amusement, sympathy, and irritation.

If their father noticed, he ignored them. He turned to Jasan. “Make sure your brother gets back to his room,” he said.

Once Jasan and Caden were beyond earshot, as Caden followed Jasan up the spiraling staircase of the western tower, Caden heard him mumble, “Half brother.”

Five years had passed since then, and the weight on his father's shoulders seemed to get heavier and heavier; the strategic meetings more frequent; the whispered secrets among his brothers and guards increased. The country was in turmoil. No one had told Caden outright, but he knew. He'd seen his brothers increase drills with the Elite Paladins and castle guards. He'd watched men and women ride to the castle in the dead of night, wounded, and carrying important messages. He'd seen his brother die.

The memory of his home made his heart ache, but the memory of Chadwin felt like a chain squeezing his chest. What new problems would arise when Caden didn't return home?

Caden tugged his coat tighter. The magic was strong: the fit was comforting and the wool always warm. It couldn't, however, bring back his dead brother Chadwin.
It couldn't even reunite him with his surly brother Jasan or giant brother Maden. What it could do, however, was remind him he was the eighth-born son of King Axel. He was a future Elite Paladin. He must be brave and noble in the face of villainous teachers and powerful old ladies.

C
aden scrubbed his locker until it shone. He forced away the memories of his home and his dead brother. Tito leaned against the adjacent locker, twelve-three.

“You've got some issues,” he was saying. He hadn't stopped talking about the spaghetti incident since Caden had gotten back from Ms. Primrose's office. “But, hey, if you weren't nuts, you might not take down bullies with pasta.” For someone who'd prevented Caden from fighting the day before, Tito seemed thrilled with Caden's spaghetti toss. “You should have smashed it into his face, though.”

Caden took out his math book. “The goal was to humiliate, not to injure.”

“Goal achieved,” Tito said. “But Rosa's gonna kill you.” Caden felt his eyes grow wide, and Tito laughed. “Not literally. She just doesn't believe in humiliating people.”

“He insulted us first,” Caden said, and shut the locker door.

“Rosa won't care 'bout that, and I've met Derek's mom. She's totally scary. But, hey, it was worth it, right?”

“I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't.”

In the math room, the students murmured quietly, some laughed, some flipped through their texts. The woody scent of pencil shavings mixed with the smell of wool that was still damp from the snow outside.

Caden sat and prepared to face his enemy.

Rath Dunn entered like he was walking onto a stage. With a flourish, he turned off the lights and flipped on the projector. Grisly scenes and bloody battlefields flashed on the board. It was a lightning storm of gore and death.

“Today, we learn to calculate percentage,” Rath Dunn said, and flipped back on the lights. “Case study—percentage dead from battle.”

The room filled with nervous energy and the sound of writing implements scratching paper. Caden sat and listened. He could not read this English nor write it, and there was nothing he wanted to learn from a tyrant who stole enchantresses and threatened to consume Galvanian snow stallions.

Halfway through the lesson, Rath Dunn stalked to Tito's desk. “Out of five hundred fifty soldiers, one hundred twenty perished. Percent dead?”

Tito blinked. “Uh . . . like twenty-two percent?”

“To be exact twenty-one point eight one repeating. But close enough. Smart boy.”

Tito looked down and smiled. Caden kicked him. Tito must not forget that Rath Dunn was the enemy. Too many others had suffered horrible fates by letting down their guard, by letting the man use his keen insight to force his way into their trust.

Rath Dunn moved in front of Caden. “Caden, what percent survived?” His eyes took a curious glint and his voice a challenging lilt.

Despite fighting hard to learn nothing and keep Rath Dunn's lesson from inching into his head, Caden knew the answer. All he was required to do was subtract Tito's answer from one hundred. Seventy-eight tickled his tongue.

Caden swallowed down the number and hardened his gaze. “Too few,” he said.

“Interesting.” Rath Dunn leaned close. Caden braced for the stretching of stiches, the sharp pain of a cut, but his wound remained intact. The stitches didn't pull. “Although, that depends on your perspective. Mathematically, though, it would be seventy-eight point one eight”—he punched to the air and raised his voice dramatically—“repeating!”

When the freedom bell rang, Rath Dunn blocked Caden and Tito's escape. Caden scowled at him and at the place under his velvet jacket where Caden knew he'd had the blood dagger earlier.

“Why don't you have your weapon?” Caden said.

At that, Rath Dunn curled his lip. He looked like the largest of the Winter Castle wind cats, the smug cat that came to Caden's knees and had fur the same silver as steel. All he lacked was the giant fire rodent wriggling in his teeth.

“I put it away, as a reward.”

“For what?” Caden said.

Rath Dunn chuckled. “For humiliating your enemy and showing no mercy for a boy you know nothing about.”

Whatever this was about, it was not Derek. “I know he started it,” Caden said.

“And you finished it, then quite adeptly charmed Ms. Primrose,” Rath Dunn said, and motioned to Caden's hurt arm. “Hence, I decided to spare your arm my blade. Ms. Primrose does approve of rewards. Best to keep her happy.”

Tito moved closer and, for a brief moment, reminded Caden of the hovering presence of the Elite Guard—alert and ready to protect. “C'mon,” he said. “Let's go.”

As they stepped through the doorway, Rath Dunn called out. “It was my impression,” he said, and Caden could hear the knowing grin curl his lip, “that you boys wanted to find dear little Jane Chan.”

Caden stopped, surprised but not. No matter what Ms. Primrose believed and said, Rath Dunn was connected to Jane's disappearance. Something between validation and despair battled within him. He feared what might have happened to her.

Tito spun around. “Where is she?”

The rage in his voice was new. Caden had heard his friend annoyed and frustrated—the normal emotions people seemed to express before they gave in and did what Caden wanted. This was the first time he'd heard Tito sound dangerous.

Six months prior, Chadwin had been slain. Caden thought of the pain and guilt he felt for not being there to save Chadwin, for the pain and guilt he knew his brothers and father felt, too.

For Tito, this wasn't about honor or about proving he was brave and capable, it was about saving someone. “Where is she?” he repeated.

Caden could do nothing to bring back Chadwin, but he could help Tito find his friend. “Tell us,” Caden said.

Rath Dunn motioned to them like they were hissing kittens. “In a few years, you two might be threatening,” he said, and shrugged. “I don't have her.”

Tito's face remained stretched in a snarl. His fist was clenched at his side. He inhaled deeply like he was on the edge of control. “Then who does?”

“Good question. Like I said, smart boy. I might know something.”

Tito remained furious. “What do you want from us?”

Rath Dunn nodded slightly, like he approved of the question. “That's why you're good at math. You're good at getting to the point. I have no use for you, though. I already possess that skill.”

Caden snorted. “You are hardly getting to the point.”

“You, though, son of Axel,” Rath Dunn said, and turned all his attention to Caden, “you may yet be useful. You have talents and information I don't.”

“I must decline.”

Rath Dunn's gaze lingered on Caden's wounded arm. For a second, he seemed to be disappointed, and Caden again thought of how carefully Rath Dunn had saved his blood before encouraging him to die on the mountain.

Rath Dunn paced the room. “Axel would have had you gifted like your brothers. Let's see,” he said. “Valon in leadership, Maden in strength.” He paused after each name like he was cataloging Caden's response, like he was seeking answers to some question. He continued. “Lucian in stealth, Martin in accuracy, Landon in fortitude, Chadwin in agility.”

Caden flinched at Chadwin's name, at the memory of him pale and lifeless on a stone bier, and his throat felt tight. “My brothers are none of your business,” he forced out.

Rath Dunn continued as if he'd learned what he needed. “And Jasan—favored seventh son—gifted in speed . . . and
more
.”

Caden glared. “All loyal and brave men.”

“You think so? Maybe, maybe not. There were whispers of dissent among them even before my banishment.”

Tito's cheeks turned red, and his shiny hair fell into his face. “Caden's dysfunctional family can wait. Where . . . is . . . Jane?”

The distance between Tito, loyal and brave foster brother, and Rath Dunn, the releaser of the devil blight, was too close, too dangerous. “Get to your point,” Caden said to the tyrant.

Deliberately, Rath Dunn turned to him. “You show up here—that's curious enough.”

He glanced again at Caden's arm, near the spot where he'd wounded him, and sighed. It seemed whatever he'd meant to accomplish had not been accomplished. Caden lifted his chin. That was good. And Rath Dunn had also been written up by the mysterious collector of shiny things and school vice principal, Ms. Primrose.

Rath Dunn continued. “You speak English, not such a feat really. There are spells and tricks and charms that can accomplish that.” His gaze went to Tito and back to Caden again. “Then I hear you speaking Spanish with your little friend here. Two new languages, fluent at the same time, that's more curious, and there's the illiterate part.” He paused and chuckled as if he found that especially amusing. “What is your gift, prince?”

“You seem to already know,” Caden said.

“Tell me.”

“Tell me about Jane Chan.”

Rath Dunn spread a huge, catlike grin across his face. “The perfect reply!” he said, and laughed. Then, more to himself than anyone, he added, “Gifted in speech. Axel must love that. You need to practice, though, if you want
to bring it up to your potential. You may still be useful. I'm glad I didn't try harder to get you killed.”

“You tried hard enough.”

“If you think so, your father has sheltered you too much.”

Beside Caden, Tito fumed. “Are you going to tell us about Jane or continue to torture us with your theatrics?”

Rath Dunn was in front of Tito quicker than seemed possible. “If I was torturing you, you'd be screaming.” Slowly, smile in place, he caught Caden's gaze. “Maybe Caden could charm me into telling. Ms. Primrose seemed quite charmed by him.”

“Maybe I could charm her into getting rid of you.”

“Doubtful,” Rath Dunn said, and sounded not in the least bit concerned. “You've barely developed your skills. But the fact that you can charm her at all is of great interest to me.”

Caden was good at knowing what to say to get what he wanted, but it didn't work all the time. It wasn't like his compliance curse. His gift never forced anyone to do anything. People could choose to say no and, often enough, they did.