10
TALON
I’m too agitated after Caspian’s announcement to do more than clench my jaw and glare daggers at anyone who approaches. When one of my Teeth returns to me my falchion, I take the opportunity to shrug Caspian off and stalk over to lean against the throne while he parades Darling around, formally introducing her to the ministers and noblest Dragons. Her fingers twitch every time someone touches her or reaches for her hand; she shifts her shoulders as if to resettle the feather mantle, clearly uncomfortable.
I think about the dance, of how quickly we fell into the rhythm of it together, how good it felt pushing her and knowing she’d follow, and then gasping to keep up when she gave a challenge right back to me. Maybe I should rescind my command against her sparring with my soldiers and pair up with her myself.
Darling clasps her hands behind her waist as the minister of the hoard says something to her, and while her hands are nearly hidden, I clearly see her caress the thin hilt of one of the daggers in the gauntlets. I know what she’s thinking, and I feel a smirk pull at one side of my mouth.
The problem is that I like her.
And Caspian is using her, using both of us, all of us, and I’d bet every sliver of wealth in my personal hoard that she’s using him, and all of us, right back.
“It’s so dim I can barely see anything,” Aunt Aurora says at my side.
I hadn’t noticed. All I need to see is Darling.
The realization heats up the back of my neck, and I swallow it as I glance at Aurora. Her brow is raised in a quiet reprimand.
Thank Chaos my aunt doesn’t know I thought about kissing Darling for that lingering, suspended moment after we danced.
“I’m leaving,” I say under my breath, just for Aunt Aurora. It’s definitely time for a strategic retreat. Darling is on Caspian’s arm; they’re surrounded by Teeth and courtiers. Safe enough, and Darling can handle anything thrown at her—even protecting my brother if necessary.
“Hmm, you’ve certainly been enough of a spectacle this evening.”
I wrench my gaze from Darling and stare incredulously at Aurora instead. Compared to whom? Caspian? He’s a walking, talking spectacle. For a brief moment before this party I thought we managed a connection, but Caspian promised no surprises only to turn around and announce this grand tour. Not only a broken promise but a flat-out lie. Or a sudden, madness-induced idea. I don’t like any of the options.
Aurora’s expression softens. She touches her fingers lightly to my forearm. “I’m sorry, Talon. I’m only worried.”
I nod. Worried is an understatement for both of us. Stepping back, I bow formally to her. “Excuse me, Aunt, for forgoing a dance with you. There are a number of preparations I should immediately see to, if we are leaving imminently.”
Leaning onto her toes, she kisses my cheek. “Be careful,” she murmurs, but when she drops back onto her heels there’s no hint of seriousness touching her. Aurora glides away, and I head for the exit with enough purpose not to be stopped.
It’s a relief to escape the crowd, the noise and perfume, though the return to full boonlight in the corridor has me blinking. The starry sky of the Phoenix Hall was soothing, the pale shadows and flicker of people almost like a dream. Is that how Darling found it? Somehow I doubt soothed was how she felt.
I push past laughing Dragons and nod at the guard in Dragon green stationed at the large double doors. I’ll find Finn in the Teeth barracks and take him with me to the captain of the palace guard to find out if Caspian put anything in motion for the security of our little jaunt around the country.
But I see Elias Chronicum stepping up from one of the arched stairways leading down into the terraced gardens and turn immediately to intercept them.
Nearly two years ago, before I submitted to the order to replace General Bloodscale at the front, I insisted on a personal physician for my brother or I wouldn’t leave. This came at the end of a year when Caspian had had too many episodes in public for me to feel at all safe leaving him. He’d cut off mid-sentence and stare at something nobody else could see, or giggle suddenly, or bar everyone from his tower until he was too exhausted and starving to give commands. His hands were always covered in paint. Aurora and I knew he woke from nightmares often and refused fires in his hearths or even regular candles. As if flames held some special horror for him. The rumors of madness or dreamwalking had begun again, and we didn’t know how to counter them.
Except it ended abruptly for no reason apparent to us, and Caspian picked up the reins of leadership more firmly than ever before. I was relieved until he pulled Bloodscale onto the council and wanted me gone. I spoke with Aurora, and we sent word to House Gryphon, renowned for their libraries and physicians, and Elias came to us. They are the Gryphon regent’s first cousin, with not only a specialty in treating boon-related maladies but also a diagnostic boon themself. Elias told me it was not unlike my tracking boon in application. They had such calm confidence that they could help Caspian, I eased into leaving.
But it’s been two years, and Caspian isn’t any better. Where once I trusted Elias, now I’m angry. They see it in my expression as I bear toward them and blink rapidly before giving me a slight bow. “My blade?” they murmur.
I take their elbow and lead them back down the stairs into the terraced garden. This confrontation has been coming for us both since I returned with Darling and found Caspian just as wild and unpredictable as ever. As we pass a trio of courtiers, I slow down and relax my grip so that it seems a more friendly escort than before, and step us around a row of flowering trees to the end of the stone terrace, where we have a modicum of privacy. I release them.
“My blade,” Elias says again, but no more. They wait. Something challenging hides in their gaze, and I’m primed to bristle.
Like many of House Gryphon, Elias eschews most explicit markers of gender in their costume and accoutrement. They’re wearing layered robes of exquisite pale material that simply flow around their body and a garnet signet ring indicating membership in the Gryphon regent’s immediate family that sits heavy on their light brown forefinger.
“Why aren’t you helping him?” I say with slightly more threat than I intended.
Elias keeps their expression as calm as ever. “I do help him.”
“He’s not better.”
“Better than what?” Elias drawls, letting their facade shatter. I see the challenge again, a quiet disdain that I don’t know my brother at all and this physician does.
I draw myself up: I’m taller and broader than Elias, so it’s easy to loom. “I brought you here to cure him of his illness, of—”
“He’s not sick.”
Narrowing my eyes, I want to ask if my brother isn’t sick, why hasn’t Elias gone home? But I want answers more. “He acts sick. He’s wild, just as prone to mood swings and ridiculous behavior. You saw him in there, didn’t you?”
Elias studies me, glass-brown eyes taking in probably more than I’d like. “Did you see him?”
“No riddles, Elias.”
The Gryphon gives the impression of rolling their eyes without actually doing it. I feel young, stupid, even though I’m only a handful of years their junior, and the first scion. Elias says, “The Prince Regent knows what he’s doing, scion. Did you ever think that? He’s doing it all on purpose, playing you and everyone else like a master musician.”
I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head. I keep my voice low: we seem alone, but gardens are notorious for eavesdroppers. “Sometimes, but not always. I’ve watched him fall out of himself; I know I have. I hope you’re right, and he is doing everything on purpose, but if he’s not, it’s not worth the risk.”
Elias’s body relaxes slightly. “You’re worried about him.” They have the audacity to sound surprised.
“He’s my brother,” I grind out.
“You’ve been away a long time.”
“We all have our duties to perform.”
The physician runs a hand through their short black curls. For the occasion they’re streaked with the rust red of House Gryphon, and Elias grimaces when they remember, pulling their hand down and rubbing the powder between their fingers. I wonder if Caspian did that to them like he’d insisted on making up my eyes. I wonder how close Elias and my brother are.
Before I can formulate my question without hostility, Elias says, “I’ve seen the paintings of her.”
I suck in a quick breath. That’s an answer to my question, at least. I’m going to have to somehow make Caspian confess just how many people he’s told. The extent of his paintings, of his obsession with Darling, was supposed to be a very well-kept secret.
Elias says, “Knowing they depict a real person, a person with whom Cas—the Prince Regent clearly has an unprecedented Chaos connection . . .” There’s a shadow in their eyes as they glance away, a shadow that mirrors my own sour feelings about Caspian and Darling having any kind of connection. But Elias continues, “It suggests that his boon takes a form of something heretofore unknown. Artistry, yes, but focused on one thing, one person. A single thread of Chaos. It does affect him strangely, I admit that. But just because we don’t understand it”—their voice sharpens—“doesn’t mean he’s sick. Or mad.”
“Are you certain his boon is for painting?”
“Unless he is lying to everyone who cares about him.”
“You don’t think that’s possible?” I snap.
“I trust him,” Elias responds, both quiet and steely.
For a long moment I study Elias. They seem sincere. And even if I can’t bring myself to be as trusting of Caspian, I am glad he has someone so devoted. “If he is not sick—and I believe you that he is not—why do you think his boon is so difficult for him to process? Is it somehow because of this connection to Darling? Or simply because it is so strong? Chaos has too tight a grip upon him? Even if he does much of this on purpose, I have seen it take control of him. You must have, as well.”
The expression on Elias’s face is somewhere between annoyance and wonder. Caspian has gotten his claws in them in the best sort of way, despite their better nature. “I have wanted to research in the Gryphon archives, where there are many books about how boons functioned in the time before the death of the Last Phoenix, when they were all stronger than those we are gifted with now. But . . . I also fear leaving him.”
Because I understand that entirely, I only smile grimly at Elias and say, “In that case, I have good news: you’re coming with us on our ridiculous tour.”
Instead of continuing to seek Finn once I leave Elias, I head toward Darling’s rooms. She won’t be there yet, but I’ll wait. When I reach the extravagant suite, I dismiss the palace guard at the door and take her place. I learned to appreciate the isolated peace of night watch my first year in the army, assigned to just as much grunt work as my fellow recruits. Many complained about watch, but I found it soothing, especially high on ramparts or city walls in the middle of the night. I can sink into a boon-driven focus for hours, aware of the details of my surroundings without having to think much about them until something out of place catches my attention. It’s meditative. I don’t have the opportunity often anymore, and I miss it.
I let my boon awaken and am immediately aware of the empty space around me, the tapestry across the corridor with a tattered hem, a recent stain from spilled wine on the rug to my left, the skitter of something very small in the shadows near the standing candelabra on my right. Inside Darling’s suite an attendant waits in a doze. Otherwise I’m alone. I breathe deeply and settle into the quiet awareness. It makes me note the remaining soreness in my shoulder and the uneven strain across my back because of how I’ve been compensating. The ache in the soles of my feet, the weight of black paint around my eyes, a tickle in my nose. I block it out and keep breathing.
Several servants hurry past, and a couple of courtiers from House Barghest heading for their own guest suite. None of them notice I’m not simply a palace guard, despite the fancy black scales of my shoulder pauldron or my dress uniform. It’s not long, maybe an hour, before I sense the approach of three people: two in formation, the one at the fore stomping.
I slide my gaze toward her without moving my head, to see Darling practically kicking her heavy skirts out of her way as she strides—instead of just lifting the skirts in her hands. Something warm kindles in my chest. She’s wearing dark-glass goggles again, framed by thin cords of cream-colored leather that wrap into her hair. I wish I could see her Chaos-scarred eyes. And I think of her original goggles, the ones I took from her in Lastrium and put into a lacquered box in my rooms with the rest of my favored pieces of personal hoard. Like a prize, or a special treasure.
When she reaches me, I turn my head, and her lips fall open. I don’t quite startle her—but she hadn’t realized it was me. “Talon,” she says, turning any fluster into something more spitting.
I nod to her and with a flick of my eyes dismiss the two Teeth escorting her. They go, and I say, “We should spar.”
She laughs at me. It’s mean and pretty. “Right now?”
Clenching my jaw, I shake my head. “You have wanted to work out with the army. I’ll allow it, but only if I’m there. Tomorrow. Or any day you’re available. I don’t know what Caspian’s made your schedule into, but we’ll be leaving in a few days.”
Darling leans on one hip, eyeing me. “Well. I suppose that’s as good a deal as I’ll get.”
“It is.”
“Then, War Prince.” She bares her bright teeth in a grin. “I look forward to it.”
Something about her bearing and expression reminds me of her strange eyes falling to my lips in the Phoenix Hall, and before either of us can do anything ridiculous, I choose another strategic retreat.