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Meg understood that a kind of friendship had formed between Kellin and Commander Rainger when Kellin had been confined under his guard, but she didn’t think it a good idea, or one to encourage. It appeared for the moment that Commander Rainger, despite their current position, was doing his best to maintain his distance. But in the few days they had been at the Keep, it had become clear that Kellin didn’t appreciate his efforts.
She had become increasingly frustrated, moody and difficult to live with. She openly asked Commander Brent to invite Commander Rainger to dine with them, then grumbled when he would not come inside. She dragged Meg out into what may have once been a garden on the pretence of walking every morning. As they dragged their skirts through the weeds and long stalks of grass, Kellin huffed that she couldn’t see him in the yard or barracks.
Meg had feigned a headache that morning to escape the uncomfortable walk through the wet grass and the moody sister that would accompany it. She had strongly suggested that Kellin focus on something else, but Kellin couldn’t see Meg’s meaning. She had even suggested replanting the garden, or at least getting the grass cut, but Kellin had stomped off alone.
Now she watched as Kellin stomped around the gravel just outside the window, her skirt wet to the knees, the once-fine silk now covered in seeds and petals. Kellin talked with Bessie as she walked and constantly glanced towards the barracks. Meg wanted to tap on the glass for her attention, but Kellin would only take that as encouragement. As Kellin stomped back into the Keep, Meg noticed Commander Rainger at the side of the barracks, his eyes on the house, and she sighed. Perhaps he wasn’t keeping quite the distance Meg had thought.
Kellin threw herself into a chair by the fire. They needed more distraction or they would be more than a little irritable within the next week.
“Let us visit the chapel,” she suggested. Kellin shook her head and stared into the flames. “It was your suggestion. We could clean it out together, find a way to mend the gods.”
“I am sure I would rather do something else,” Kellin murmured.
“There is very little to do.”
“Perhaps, but cleaning a chapel is not something I want to do,” Kellin said, leaning forward and staring into the fireplace.
Meg sighed. “Then I shall do it myself,” she said, pushing up from the table.
“I will not help,” Kellin said.
Meg walked quickly outside and around the corner of the Keep, almost running into the two commanders deep in conversation. Brent’s finger sharp and pointing, Rainger’s bulk leaning towards him. She froze on the spot, the two men so involved in their conversation they did not see her.
“You will provide some space,” Brent boomed.
“I provide space,” Rainger roared. “I do as required by my position and by the princesses.”
“Your position here is only as directed by the Raven Queen. It would do you well to remember that.”
“I know my duty. Do not presume to tell me otherwise. I will do anything necessary to protect the queen’s interests.”
A gasp escaped before she could stop it and both men turned to her in surprise. “I am headed for the chapel,” she said, hastily pointing towards it, and she raced past them and down the hill.
“You will do as you are directed,” Commander Brent shouted. At the chapel door, she stopped to watch Commander Rainger stalk off. She pushed into the chapel, tears threatening again as she focused on the damage before her in the dim light.
“Kellin was right,” she muttered. “Prisoners.” She moved forward to rub the smooth feet of the gods and breathed in the calming nature of the ritual. “I am sorry,” she said. “I shall see you restored.”
She should have stepped back, knelt down and prayed. But the sadness at the damage time had ravaged on them pulled at her heart. She ran her hand down Kira’s arm, the stone rough beneath her fingers, and whispering started around her. She looked over her shoulder, her hand still on Kira, but there was no one there. Without further thought, Meg lifted her skirt to her knee, placed a foot between those of the gods and, with a strong grip on their joined hands, she pulled herself up to come face to face with Kion.
The whispering around her increased and she turned slightly, hoping the stone did not give way beneath her hands. She stared back into his broken face, her fingers gently dancing across the stone. She sighed. How could she fix this? She had no idea where to start.
“She is brave,” whispered a small voice behind her, and she froze.
“It is not bravery to touch the face of a god,” another said. “It is blasphemy.”
Meg looked down at herself, pressed against the bodies of her gods, her hand on theirs, another on Kion’s face, and she let go and slipped, smashing her shin against the block on which they stood. She sprawled backwards, hitting her head on the stone floor.
The air left her lungs and she burned trying to drag it back in.
“Look what you did,” the voice whispered again.
“She was standing on the gods,” the other answered.
Meg blinked at the pain in her head and the strange, slow throb that had started in her leg. Her lungs still tried to drag air in and she coughed as the dust filled them.
“Now look,” the first voice said. “You have killed a raven.”
“I have not,” the other said, “’twas your fault.”
“Hello?” Meg called. But only silence answered her. “Is anyone there?” Her head pounded and she squeezed her eyes closed to the pain.
Meg opened her eyes to darkness and then panicked, unsure where she was, and shivered in the cold. Her leg throbbed and burned, far more than when she had slipped, and she could not move when she tried to lift herself from the cold floor. She lay still. Tried to breathe and remember where she was. There had been someone here with her, two voices at least, whispering and talking about her, but she couldn’t remember what they had said.
When she opened her eyes again, the bed was soft beneath her and Kellin sat over her, Meg’s hand in hers.
“Oh Meg,” she breathed. “Thank the gods.”
“I think they pushed me,” she said, trying to sit up.
“Who pushed you?” Commander Brent asked from the foot of the bed, his eyes dark and hard.
She shook her head and it hurt, so she laid it back down. “The gods,” she whispered. “The gods pushed me.”
“She has hit her head,” he said too loud.
“Shh,” Meg whispered.
“I told you to search,” he said to someone else, and she closed her eyes again. The throbbing lessened when she shut out the light, although not in her leg. “How long did she lie in the cold? What if someone attacked her? She could be gone, taken or dead.” His voice rose again and every word vibrated through her. “How would you explain that to the queen?”
“Rainger?” Kellin asked.
Then the door slammed.
“Please,” Meg said. “Please stop.”
“She should rest,” Brent’s voice said, more quietly.
“I will stay with her,” Kellin said.
Meg heard the door quietly close. Kellin lay down with her and she opened her eyes a little.
“Oh Meg,” she said again.
Meg found her hand and squeezed it.
She woke with a start, Kellin’s warm body still asleep beside her and the fire the only light in the room. She was sure she heard voices whispering about a raven and then she froze, aware of the large man in the room with them. Hidden from the firelight, he stood stock still and Meg wondered if someone else had been in the chapel with her—if Elalia had been right and they were under threat. Or worse, Elalia or the Silent Mother had sent someone after them.
Her heart beat loud in her ears as the shape moved towards the bed. Her leg stiff and hot, pinned beneath her sister’s arm, she closed her eyes and waited.
Kellin sighed in her sleep and Meg forced her eyes open. The shadow leant over the bed and Meg watched as a large hand gently stroked Kellin’s hair, causing her to sigh again.
“Commander Rainger,” Meg whispered. “What are you doing?”
“I wanted to ensure you were safe, Your Highness. That you were both safe,” he said softly, straightening up.
“You scared me. I thought you were the whisperers.”
“Was there someone in the chapel?” he asked, his voice louder, and Meg put a finger to her lips.
She shook her head and then squinted. “My head hurts,” she said as a tear escaped.
“I am sorry,” he said, coming around the bed. He pulled the covers gently to her neck. “I shall watch from the other side of the door.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, careful not to move her head.
The door latch gently clicked shut and Meg stared up at the canopy, trying to remember what had happened in the chapel. Once I can get out of bed, I am going back, she thought. Kellin sighed again.
“Shh,” Meg said.
“He never sleeps,” she murmured and was still.
No, Meg thought, but who does he watch for?
The look on Brent’s face was severe, and Rainger knew he should have taken the opportunity to rest as he had been directed when he had been relieved from his watch over the princesses. But he found it harder than he would like to admit to be so far away from Princess Kellin. He took a deep breath and stretched his hands over the fire.
“We need more men out there. They have become complacent, milling around the yard, eyeing the maids, talking with princesses as though they were at court,” Brent said.
He took a deep breath and Rainger steadied himself for the torrent to come.
But instead, Brent blew out his rage slowly and when Rainger looked up at him, he looked more concerned than angry. “The enemy could walk into this mess and kill us all before we knew they were here,” he said quietly. “The queen saw a threat, whether real or imagined, then sent too many men out to watch over two young women, and yet we nearly let one die.”
Rainger opened his mouth but Brent put up his hand. “You are a good soldier,” he said with a sigh. “And I know you do your duty by the queen even when you do not agree.” He stared up at Brent’s face of stone. “That is what we do. Rulers for all of history have been giving orders that have got more men killed than saved, but we do it anyway. We nod and bow and bend the knee because they are king or queen and we do as we are ordered.”
Rainger nodded again.
“Yet the Princess Kellin clouds your mind,” Brent said as he looked back to the fire.
“She is scared,” Rainger said quietly.
“We are all scared,” Brent said, still looking into the flames. “We nearly lost her sister today, and because you are focused on entertaining the girl instead of protecting her.”
“Her safety is first on my mind every day,”
“I have seen the way you watch her. You should watch around her. Be aware of the possible threat, not the girl herself.”
“She is not just a girl,” Rainger whispered.
“No,” Brent said clearly. “She is a princess, the next in line for the Raven Crown should we lose our queen, and you need remember that. A princess,” he said slowly. “And princesses do not end up with soldiers.”
Rainger gulped down his anger and nodded.
“I understood her father planned for her to enter the Brotherhood,” Brent said.
“Queen Elalia may have other plans,” he said.
“Whatever those plans are, they do not include you.”
The rage continued to build in Rainger’s chest, and he took a deep breath.
“Gather some men in the morning; take them out and find out what happened to Princess Megora in that chapel.”
Rainger nodded and stood slowly from the makeshift stool.
“Make sure the gods didn’t push her over,” Brent added.