“Remember the plan?” Varn asked.
The wind had taken her side, launching us towards Gavern, and something akin to my old sea-sickness swirled within me.
“I have information for Gavern. I know how to get to Reis and how to turn Port Mahon against them,” I said dryly.
It wasn't much of a plan at all, but it was all we had.
“That's the thing about Gavern. He's smart alright, but he's got an ego,” Varn told me. “He won't get too close to any town he's attacking, but he won't let anything happen without his supervision, either. Met him once. He likes showing his face 'cause he don't let anyone escape. Usually.”
I nodded, eyes fixed on the ship. I'd wished for storm clouds to stop us, and here they were, manifested in the form of Gavern's ship. The wood was stained black and as we drew towards it, I was certain it would swallow us whole, for the way it blocked out the sun.
“You can stop that, right? The glowing's gonna give us straight away.”
I nodded, not believing it. All the work I'd done in Port Mahon over such a short period of time had washed most of it out of me, but drawing closer to Gavern's ship, to what I had to do, was causing it to thrum again.
“Get on it, Rowan. We've only got a few seconds now. Better think real hard about why you're doing this. Me, I just wanna get back and see Lanta again.”
Gavern deserved to die. There was no doubting that, but that didn't mean I had any right to kill him. That was the block I needed to push past. I needed to focus on why I was doing this. To help the others. To return to Asar. And surely Claire's dragon-bone armour had survived the flames. Surely I'd be able to dig that out from beneath the ash and cling to that, if nothing else...
“Thank the gods,” Varn said, lugging something out of the boat's one-person cabin. “Here. Catch!”
My skin was dark again, and I grabbed what Varn threw my way, fingers wrapping around the chunk of wood before I processed what it was. I looked down to find one of Reis' old legs in my hands, patterns cruder than the ones they now boasted.
“Um... ?”
“Gotta have some proof you know Reis, right?”
“Reis is in on this?” I asked as the shadow of Gavern's ship swallowed us whole. “You're working with Reis?”
Varn's attempt at a scowl manifested as a smirk, and with a wink, she disappeared, hiding behind the cabin so that the pirates whose attention we'd caught would think I'd come alone. Three of them were leaning over the edge, getting a good look at me, ready to call for back-up the moment the short, scruffy, unarmed Felheimer became a threat. The ship was so tall that craning my neck back made me dizzy in the way that looking up at mountains once had. I tried to pick Gavern out from the souls rumbling around within, but knew that I couldn't kill him from such a distance without wiping out the rest of the crew as well.
“Girl, you'd best be turning on back,” one of Gavern's men said.
Had I turned and sailed away, I got the feeling he would've used my boat for target practise.
“I've come from Mahon,” I said, voice barely reaching above the waves. “I've got information for Gavern.”
I heard the words as though I wasn't speaking them, and the pirates took the time to furrow their brows before nudging each other in the sides and chuckling amongst themselves.
“Don't reckon that'll be of much use to him. We've got a couple of ships razing the damn town to the ground as we speak!” a second man called. “Only sorry I had to stay here and miss out on it.”
“It's no good. Two of those ships have already been sunk, and Mahon's claimed the third,” I said, louder now. “Your men's heads are being put on spikes, and those are probably the lucky ones.”
“You're gonna have to do better than that, girl,” the first man said, snorting. He'd pulled his sword from his belt and had it rested along the ship's railing, as though I needed reminding of the danger all around me.
“Look!” I said, hoisting Reis' leg up and feeling ridiculous for it.
The men did look, scrunching up their faces as they squinted.
“The hell is that?”
“Idiot. That's only Reis' leg,” the one who'd yet to speak said. “Don't you listen to a bloody word Gavern says?”
It did the trick. With a warning that I'd better not try anything funny, a rope ladder was thrown off the side, and I tucked Reis' leg under my arm as I climbed. I kept my eyes fixed on my hands, knuckles only turning white because of the way I gripped the rungs, and the ladder creaked and twisted as I climbed. One of the men grabbed my shoulder at the top and another seized hold of the leg, rushing over to Gavern's cabin ahead of me. Once they were convinced that I had no weapons hidden on me, I was shoved roughly across the wide deck, and stopped in front of the cabin.
There were a dozen men on the deck, but none of them seemed particularly interested in me. Only the two men guarding the cabin stared down at me for more than a few seconds. They both towered over me, tattoos and scars splayed across their sun-darkened skin in equal measures, and I stopped myself from shaking by reminding myself that I was stronger than all of them combined.
“Alright,” the man who'd taken my proof to Gavern said, stepping out of the cabin, sans the leg. “Gavern wants to see ya, girl.”
The cabin was by no means small, but it was difficult to imagine any room being able to contain Gavern. For the longest time, he'd been nothing but a force of nature to me, and I expected him to be more shadow and rolling thunder than man. Yet when I stepped into the cabin, door immediately pulled shut behind me, I was greeted by a sleek, neat looking man, sat comfortably behind a desk.
The resemblance between Gavern and Queen Nasrin was striking. The two of them must've taken after their mother. He was older than she was by a handful of years, and the gold and silver chains around his neck complimented a cloak that was far too extravagant for the weather.
“A piece of Reis Jones,” he said, glanced down at the leg placed across his desk, and gestured for me to take a seat. “Though not the part that would've been at the top of my list.”
I pulled the chair out without taking my eyes off of him. Why was I sitting down? Why wasn't I finishing this here and now? Behind me, Gavern's bodyguard pulled the bolt across the door, trapping me in there with the two of them. I hadn't done it yet; did that mean I couldn't do it? I clasped my hands together, certain I was going remain there, unmoving.
“So,” Gavern said, leaning back in his chair. “You wish to betray Port Mahon. Why might this be?”
“Because...” I bit down on the inside of my mouth, eyes skidding around the room. We were surrounded by glass cabinets, each shelf covered in intricate ornaments; silver cutlery and golden figurines; compasses placed next to pocket watches, all ticking in time with one another; gleaming coins from distant shores and uncut precious stones laid between decorative knives; but even such a wealth of distractions couldn't hold back my answer forever. “Because Canth's a mess, and Port Mahon's a bigger mess. I've been here for... for five years, now, and it hasn't got any better. I heard that you had a claim to the throne, and the Queen doesn't seem to be doing anything to help, so...
“So I thought this would be better. For Canth.”
The lies flowed out of me easily. Too easily. I shouldn't have been talking; I should've got it over with, by now.
“Is that so?” Gavern asked, tapping a finger against his chin. “Why, then, do you believe you can make a difference – a real difference – when I've hundreds of men working for me?”
“I—”
Do it, do it, my mind screamed. Gavern's bodyguard circled me, rattling a drawer open. I glanced off to the side but Gavern clicked his fingers, forcing my attention back onto him.
“Never mind that. Might I ask you another question?” he asked, leaning back in his seat and idly playing with one of the chains hanging around his neck.
“Of course,” I said, fighting the urge to turn and face the man who was now standing behind me.
“Do you think me stupid, girl?” Gavern asked in low, controlled voice. “Rumours of a Felheimish necromancer have been seeping out of Mahon this past month, and word has it said necromancer recently took a trip to Chandaran. How is my dear sister, by the way? Has she grown tired of admirable poverty yet?”
A rope cut across my chest, stopping me from leaning forward to plead the case I didn't have. He knew. Gavern knew what I was all along, and he'd let me into his cabin; he had something planned. Now was the time to do it. Now, now.
“Stop struggling. You aren't going anywhere, girl,” Gavern said as I twisted enough in the chair to stop Gavern's bodyguard from doing anything beyond restrain me; he hadn't laid a hand on me and couldn't tie me in place if I didn't stay still. “We can put this all behind us, can't we? I do apologise for these unfortunate necessities, but I am not foolish enough to let a necromancer touch me.
“Now. I understand that Nasrin is Queen and all, but how much are you being compensated for your services? As far as I hear, she can barely afford to pay the paltry few servants she keeps around. Does her gratitude put food in your stomach, keep a roof over your head? I propose that you work for me. I would not pass up the opportunity to have a necromancer number amongst my ranks.”
I jolted in the chair and the bodyguard leant back. He hadn't touched me, and Gavern hadn't wanted to risk me getting my hands on him; he thought my powers depended on touch. He was getting comfortable.
“You think I'll come work for you?” I asked, wanting to hear him out. Wanting to know how mistaken he was. Light was seeping back into me, and foolishly, I lunged forward. The rope pulled tight around me and I saw stars as something crashed against the back of my head.
“I do. I have every confidence that you'll see things my way,” Gavern said, gesturing for his bodyguard to hand him the implement he'd stuck me with. Vision darkening before it cleared, I watched as Gavern toyed with a torch between his hands, holding it over a candle and letting the flames lap at it, growing. “Ah, look at you. All aglow. Scared, are you? Let's put it this way: you, sweetheart, are a necromancer, and this is a burning torch. One lick of these flames and you're ash.”
“Wait a moment,” I said, slowly turning the information over in my mind. I'd gone decades without ever meeting another necromancer, and even Reis, for all their travels, hadn't met one before me. Why should Gavern be any different? Why should he have anything but rumours to work with? “You think you can kill me with that torch?”
“Indeed,” he said, scoffing, confident he knew me better than I did. “It's like burning dry leaves, isn't it? I can only imagine how excruciating it must be. Tell me: how much of yourself are you willing to lose to the flames before seeing things my way in earnest?”
Gavern was delighted by the cruelty of his question, but all I could say in reply was, “Oh.”
“Oh?” he asked, and it was the last thing he ever did.
Slumping forward, Gavern thudded against his desk in the same moment his bodyguard hit the floor. It was done, just like that, and I'd barely been aware I was doing it. I didn't know how to push death slowly into a person, if that was possible at all, and so there was no drawing it out, no seeing the stages between life and death.
The rope fell away from me and I rose, heart pounding, skin glowing.
No one tried breaking through the door to rush into the cabin. They hadn't heard anything untoward from inside, or if they had, they'd assumed that I was the one struggling. Pushing open the windows, I caught sight of Varn's boat, and briefly considered how best to get Gavern's body out of there. His head would be all the proof we needed, but though I'd killed him, I didn't have the stomach to hack any pieces away from him.
The rope used to restrain me wasn't long enough to lower him towards the boat, but I didn't need it. My mind reeled back to King Jonas in his crypt, and with my eyes locked on it, Gavern's corpse sat back up. I stepped towards the window and it did too, moving easier than King Jonas' body had. There was no strain behind it, for the limits my powers had been pushed to, and the two of us moved in concert, climbing out of the window.
I didn't hesitate and the corpse wasn't given the chance to.
We plummeted towards the ocean, hitting it with a thud that stung my skin, and blinded by the water churning around me, I kicked my legs and clawed my way to the surface. I wasn't going to let myself drown, not now that there was a way home.
Varn's hands wrapped around my arms as I reached the surface, and she hauled me up the side of the boat, almost dropping me back into the sea when she caught sight of Gavern trying to climb his way out of the waves.
“Fuck!” she shouted, looking around for something to hit him with.
“It's alright, it's alright,” I reassured her, coughing up sea water and releasing my hold on Gavern. “He's dead, Varn.”
The corpse crumpled in on itself and Varn kicked it in the ribs; paused; kicked it again, and broke out into delighted laughter when it didn't move.
It wouldn't take long for Gavern's men to work out what had happened – to work out that Gavern was gone, at least – but we had time enough to fly back to Port Mahon. At the sight of the body Reis confirmed to be Gavern's, we were welcomed back as heroes, and Akela did the honours. With a swing of her axe Gavern was divided in two, head left with us, body given to the town.
It was strung up amongst corpses of the men he'd sent to assault the town, and someone brought a pig's head, freshly severed, to decorate it with. Exhausted to the point where I couldn't tell if I wanted to cheer or cry, I tried to head back to the hut, but dozens of people insisted that I stayed, that I let them buy me a drink. I glanced over at Reis and Kouris and found them smiling, fiercely proud of what I'd done and not caring in the least how I'd gone about it.
The celebrations lasted through the night and into the morning, and it was almost midday before I managed to slip away. I'd never had so many people come up and thank me for what I'd done, despite knowing exactly what I was, and I clung to all the warmth of Mahon as I collapsed on my bed, achingly aware of how much I didn't want to leave, and how much I needed to be back in Asar.
*
It was dark when I awoke. I found Varn sitting in the hut, feet up on the table as Reis worked away at the other end, no doubt drawing up plans for Mahon's restoration. The sight of them both sharing the same space so contentedly made me wonder whether I was still dreaming, and I stepped out with a yawn, waving at them both.
“About time,” Reis said. “Thought you were gonna sleep for an age.”
“I didn't get to bed until midday,” I said, stretching my arms above my head, feeling every bone in my body crack.
“Midday last week,” Reis said, setting their quill down.
I glanced between Reis and Varn, wondering if this was some joke they were both in on, but it didn't feel wrong. After all I'd done, I should've been exhausted, but there wasn't even a drop of alcohol left in my blood to wreak havoc with my head and stomach.
“Ain't nothing to worry about,” Varn reassured me. “One time, right, Kondo-Kana fell asleep in the Queen's study. You know, the place you met Her Majesty and made a right fool of yourself. Anyway, so Kondo-Kana falls asleep where the Queen works, so Her Majesty just piles up her letters and scrolls and documents on top of her when she runs out of space. That goes on for eleven days, until Kondo-Kana suddenly wakes up, knocking all of the Queen's work onto the floor. You shoulda seen it. Queen Nasrin didn't talk to her for a week.”
I furrowed my brow, wondering how that was supposed to make me feel better, and Reis let out a hint of a laugh. I must've been asleep longer than a week, if Varn was managing to tolerate them.
The thought of seeing Kondo-Kana again put a smile on my face, and I headed over to find something to eat as though it was just another ordinary day and Varn wasn't dying to get out of Mahon.
As though word had spread that I was finally awake, Atthis turned up while I was still shovelling food into my mouth. He hadn't been at the celebrations, and I hadn't had time to wonder how he'd react to it all. Since waking, the only thing I'd had the presence of mind to worry about was how empty sleeping for a week had made my stomach, but Atthis didn't allow fear to flicker through my mind. He was smiling too widely to despise what I'd done, and I chewed my food faster, unable to say anything when he put an arm around my shoulders.
“You did it, Rowan,” he said. “You really did it.”
The fact that we were returning to Asar overshadowed what I'd had to do to get us this far, and I couldn't help but notice the restlessness that had consumed him. It wasn't any surprise. No doubt the others had been eager for me to wake, bags already packed.
But there was something more to it. I looked at Atthis, wondering, and he caught my eye and said, “Ah, come. Let's speak outside.”
I knew what he was going to say before we reached the end of the pier. I could feel his words in the way he looked at me, and only needed him to ask what he had to so that I might be given the chance to form an answer. I wrapped my arms around myself, ignoring the heat that night brought no refuge from, waiting warily as he prolonged the inevitable.
“It's Katja,” he eventually said, having found no way around speaking her name. “Now that we know we're to leave, we were wondering what's to be done with her. Reis is willing to keep her in the jail, indefinitely, if needs be, but—”
“We'll take her with us,” I said, not blinking. “She comes back with us.”
Atthis frowned, wanting to ask how the words had come to me so suddenly, if not easily, and I could've trembled with relief when he didn't ask me why I insisted on taking her back to Asar with us. I didn't know. All I knew was that I couldn't stand to have an ocean between us; that far away, I wouldn't know where she was, what she was doing. Who she'd tricked into letting her walk free.
If she went with us, if I dragged her back to Kastelir, then I could deceive myself into thinking I had some modicum of control over the situation.
“It's your choice, Rowan,” Atthis said. “We'll stand behind it.”
I nodded furiously, not wanting to meet his gaze.
“I know. Just... leave with her before we go, please. I don't want to see her. I can't travel with her. Not yet,” I said, crouching on the edge of the pier, arms wrapped around my knees.
“Of course,” he said, “We all understand, Rowan. And we're all proud of you, too.”
I smiled at that, still a little shaky, and decided that was what I had to focus on. The fact that I'd earnt us a way home and that we were moving forward, thanks to me; I had no choice but to linger on what had been done to me, but I couldn't let it be the only thought that rattled around my head.
*
There was no saying goodbye to everyone in Port Mahon.
My bags were packed. I'd gathered up clothing for the journey, along with all the trinkets from my room I had space for. I took a handful of shells, the golden phoenix and the wolf Reis had carved me, and wrapped the book I'd spent nights running my fingers over in shirts to stop it from getting scuffed. Reis told me not to worry about the rest. They'd leave everything where it was, awaiting my return, whenever that might be.
No matter who I said goodbye to, the response was always the same. See ya later, Felheim. People drifted in and out of Mahon, disappearing for months or years at once, and no one wasted time on drawn-out goodbyes when they were convinced I'd be back, sooner or later. They were right. It was only once I was leaving that I truly appreciated how I'd settled within myself there.
I'd come back, once the dragons were dealt with. I'd be the Necromancer of Port Mahon, if that's what people needed me to be.
Reis walked with us to the stables, intent on seeing us off. Atthis and Katja had left earlier that morning, and I stared deeper into Canth, at the road ahead of us, reminding myself that we'd catch up to them eventually, once we reached the palace gates.
“It wasn't bad having you around again, Varn,” Reis said as she climbed up into the carriage. “Bring Atalanta down next time, alright?”
Varn rolled her eyes, but there was no missing the smile she was trying to bite back.
Akela took my bags and said, “Reis, I am enjoying this little vacation very much, but I am afraid we are having to get back to work, now. But I am thanking you for being such a gracious host, yes. This town of yours, it is very nice.”
Reis laughed, shook her hand, and none of us could ignore the last thing Akela piled into the carriage. Gavern's head, wrapped in strips of cloth, dusted with bitterwillow to stop it from going to rot too quickly.
“Thanks. Thanks for everything you did for us,” I said to Reis, determined to keep smiling. It was my choice to leave. No one was tearing me away. “I don't know what we would've done without you.”
“Nonsense. You did this town a real service,” they told me. “Don't go forgetting that. And don't look so bloody glum. You'll be back before you know it. We'll probably still be rebuilding the damn port.”
Akela helped me up into the carriage, and I sat opposite her, watching as Kouris knelt down, arms held open. Trying not to smirk, Reis stepped forward and grabbed one of Kouris' horns, tugging her head to the side.
“Get out of here, you,” was all they said, and Kouris obliged.
The carriage rolled to an unsteady start and Kouris strode alongside us, neither wishing to splinter the carriage nor put too much strain on the horses. I watched as Reis disappeared and Mahon faded along with them, telling myself that it wasn't forever. I was a necromancer. I had decades within me. Centuries. I could afford time away from Mahon, if it meant straightening out my thoughts.
The journey to Chandaran wasn't any more thrilling than it'd been the first time. Our thoughts were occupied by Asar, but none of us wanted to speak up, lest we give each other the impression we were getting our hopes up, expecting to find more than a scattered resistance and a few surviving settlements. We stopped at the same inns I'd visited with Varn and Atalanta, and once the innkeepers realised that Kouris was a pane, a dragon-born, they were only too happy to serve her up all the raw meat in the establishment.
Varn and Akela arm-wrestled over the table, proving it wasn't impossible for Akela to be bested, and I found that sleep wouldn't return to me. I couldn't tell whether it was the result of having claimed so much of it throughout the previous week, or whether nerves were to blame. The closer we drew to Chandaran, the more I wished to return to Port Mahon. I looked ahead and all I could think was that Katja was there, waiting for me. Yet I knew if I'd left her behind, I would've felt as though I could never return to Mahon. I would've spent the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.
There was no turning back, I thought, seeing the city in the distance. I'd committed myself to this, I reminded myself as we rolled through the busy streets. The Queen had asked me to bring Gavern's head, had made a promise to me, I repeated over and over as the palace came into view.
Atthis and Katja were there, waiting.
They hadn't been allowed in without Varn's authority, and as we climbed out of the cart, I did all I could not to look at Katja.
She made it as hard for me as she possibly could. She didn't shrink from me, didn't take her eyes off me for a second. I glanced her way, determined to get it over with, to prove to myself that it wasn't as bad as I was imagining it to be. There were dark marks smudged beneath her eyes and she looked as though a fever had gripped her, though I felt nothing untoward welling up within her. Her hair was all askew, and the moment my eyes met hers, her mouth twitched into a smile.
“Good morning. Kouris, Akela,” Katja said, and the sound of her voice told me there was fear within me still. Fear that wouldn't be silenced by reason. “What a lovely day to embark on an eight-week journey across the ocean. Honestly, I don't know why we're leaving Canth. I like it here. There is life and charm within the place, if one can look past all the debauchery. What is there for us in Kastelir? Do tell me, for I wonder so. Our castle is but rubble and ash and Isin a memory. And my mother—oh, my mother is dead. There are not even bones in a crypt for me to visit!”
“Kouris, that's enough,” Atthis said, stepping through the gates as they were opened for us.
But Katja wouldn't be silenced, not while I was around her. She forced nothing upon me, didn't send sickness shooting to my stomach, but her words proved crueller than all that.
“What do you think is going to be waiting for us, Rowan? Do you truly believe that Claire will be there, faithful and unchanged? Alive, more than anything?” Everyone halted. Even Varn, who'd never heard the name before. My blood burnt white-hot and the world dimmed as I stared at her. Had the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, crushing her in its maw, it wouldn't have been enough to sate the anger that paralysed me. “Oh, come now. Don't give me that look. If you'll recall, darling, I wasn't the one who brought Claire up, was I?”
“Katja," I warned, but she silenced me with a smile.
“Not saying please this time, hm?” she asked, and with a dreary sigh, said, “You really will never guess what Rowan said to me. I'd taken her hand, you see, and there she was, curled up on the floor, sobbing out Claire, Claire, Claire. It was all so embarrassingly pathetic that I thought I should faint.”
No one was looking at Katja anymore.
Kouris, Atthis, Akela and Varn were looking at me and they knew. Akela had seen what Katja had done for herself, but the others had believed that Katja had pushed knives into me, and that'd been it; they hadn't through for a moment that she'd stolen something from me.
No one said anything. They could only reflect on how weak Katja had made me, how her words cut through me still, and the thought of wrapping my fingers tight around Katja's throat made it impossible to draw breath into my own lungs.
I ran.
Behind me, I heard Varn ask, “Who the fuck is Claire?” but if anything else was said, it was lost to the pounding between my temples. I charged through the forgotten gardens, crashed into the front doors, shouldered one open, and though the corridors were filled with a dozen footsteps drawing closer and closer, I didn't care. I didn't know where I was going, but it didn't matter.
I could feel Kondo-Kana within the palace. I chased that feeling, bolting into the temple and skidding to a stop, almost striking my forehead against Isjin's outstretched hand in the process. Hands on my knees, all the breath spluttered out of me, and the guards who'd given chase weren't far behind. Wheezing, I heard Kondo-Kana say, “It is fine, it is fine. Go,” dismissing them, and I screwed my eyes shut, trying to drink down how it felt to be around her.
“Aejin,” Kondo-Kana said, placing a hand between my shoulder blades. “I did not think to see you back so soon. Please, sit with me.”
I pulled away from her, tugging at my hair as I paced the room, kicking over candles. The light warbled and faded and spread as I seethed, dry wax cracking, hot wax burning my skin, drying on my feet and shins. Without a sound, Kondo-Kana lowered herself onto the bench, ignoring the destruction as I tried to suffocate what Katja had said out of my system.
“You are angry,” she observed. I span around, wanting to snap that of course I was, but my eyes met hers, and all that impossible clearness opened something wide within me. Anger and hurt poured through that rift and I was left shaking with the dregs that remained. “But anger is not all you have, or all you are. Will you speak with me?”
I sat by her side, but a storm continued to rage within me, throwing itself against the walls. The floor beneath us was so unsteady that we may as well have been at sea.
“Tell me what has happened, Aejin,” Kondo-Kana said softly, “Tell me who has hurt you.”
I looked at her and she smiled, aware of how blunt she was being. There was a certain freedom afforded in being able to speak plainly around her.
“Katja, she—” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. The words she'd spoken outside the palace mixed with those that had passed her lips within the apartment, and they swirled around my head, drowning out my own thoughts. “I thought she was my friend. She's a... a healer, but she thought she could be something more.”
I leant against Kondo-Kana's side, strength drained from me. Katja had been planning on saying what she had outside of the palace; it wasn't spur of the moment, hadn't come to her without rhyme or reason. She'd probably practised it in her head over and over on the journey to Chandaran.
The secrets I'd been holding onto tumbled out of me in stilted pieces and Kondo-Kana listened, fingers trailing through my hair. I didn't know what it was that made it easy to talk to her – whether it was the bond pulled taut between us, or the fact that I wouldn't have to see her every day – but I started at the beginning, words dripping out of me. I spoke not only of what had happened, but of the ways I'd been hurt, and how that hadn't come to an end when Akela took me from the apartment. Nothing like shock or pity registered within Kondo-Kana as I spoke; she simply held me close and listened.
I told her what had forced me to run to her like this, and Kondo-Kana said, “And now you are afraid that your friends will think of you differently, knowing this?”
“No. Yes. Sort of,” I murmured. “Whenever they see me, it's the first think they'll think. It's all I'll be to them. I'm making them feel bad just by being around, all because of something they had no control over or part in, and that only makes me feel worse, and I'm afraid it'll never end.”
“They are never going to forget this, that is true,” Kondo-Kana said, tucking my hair behind my ears, “But you must allow them to feel what they feel. Of course they will hurt when you are hurting, but you must trust that they are not so selfish as to let that consume them. They love you, they will listen to you. They will never reduce you to one moment of your life, Rowan, and they cannot help you while you keep this all to yourself.”
The thought of voicing any of this with Atthis or Akela, or even Kouris, made my heart spike, but Kondo-Kana was right. My eyes stung with how dry they were, tears refusing to rise.
“That is the thing with the world, Aejin. Their blades will not bleed us dry and their oceans will not drown us, but that does not mean there aren't greater ways to harm us,” Kondo-Kana said. “We forget, but we do not forget. We hold onto the ways the world tries to scar us, though history fades. People are cruel. Or they are confused or scared, or all three. Sometimes there is no defining what they are, or why they act in such ways. Trust that you are not the only one who feels this. Know that there is still plenty for you to do, before the silence takes you.”
“Silence...?”
“Yes, yes. You will know it when you hear it, but please, do not linger on that now. It is meant for another time,” she said, leaning back. “Concern yourself with what comes next. With the Bloodless Lands.”
I hadn't thought anything could tear my thoughts away from Katja, but I found my hands at Kondo-Kana's shoulders, desperate to hear more.
“You will go there, though I cannot say when. But you will go there, because there are so few who can. We are the only ones who can look upon it without changing, Aejin. We are the only ones who can walk the ruined cities of our ancestors; the only ones who can hope to make it more than it is,” Kondo-Kana said softly. “The things I did were terrible. Or perhaps the things I did not do were worse—or...”
Kondo-Kana faltered, glancing away, and her eyes swirled darker, darker as she seemed to draw away from me, away from the world, until it all cleared within a blink. She closed her eyes, trying not to grit her teeth, to tense up.
“I do not remember. I do not remember what I have done, Rowan,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I will tell Nasrin you're here. Find your companions when you are ready.”
I was left with Isjin, mind swimming with thoughts of the Bloodless Lands. The longer I remained there, the harder it was going to be to leave, but I wasn't brave enough to face the others quite yet. Kneeling on the floor, I salvaged what candles I could, relighting those that had gone out as I whispered my apologies to Isjin.
Leaving the temple, I heard a faint murmur of conversation down the corridor. It wasn't hard to find the others, for most rooms within the palace had been boarded shut, and when I walked into the waiting room, Atthis, Kouris and Varn looked up at me, wanting to say something without knowing what would reach me. Silence dragged on and I surmised that Akela was watching over Katja outside. Eventually, Varn did me a kindness in speaking up.
“What a complete tosser,” she said, knocking a fist against her open palm, “Need me to stick a few knives in her head?”
A breathy laugh rushed out through my nose and a weight lifted from my chest along with it. Kouris and Atthis seemed to realise that they didn't need to say anything, not right away, and I moved over to Kouris, saying, “I'm sorry about what Katja said, about Kidira. That wasn't fair.”
“None of it was fair, yrval,” she said, looking very much as though she wanted to add something more, but didn't, for my sake. “Come on. I hear there's a Queen waiting for you.”
I didn't want to waste any more time. Kouris handed me Gavern's head, ooze and gore seeping through the fabric wrapped around it, and we followed Varn down the corridor, to the room Atalanta was standing vigil outside of. Atalanta and Varn smiled at one another, and without saying anything, Varn took her place at the other side of the door, holding it open for us.
Kouris ducked through the doorway, and I found that little had changed since my last visit. Queen Nasrin was still consumed by her work, and Kondo-Kana sat by her side, humming as she ran a brush through her unreasonably long hair, making ready to braid it. Queen Nasrin was used enough to Kondo-Kana's whims to not let it distract her, and it was Kondo-Kana who spoke up first.
“A pane,” she said at the sight of Kouris, smiling brightly. “It has been far too long since last I met one. Tell me, my towering friend, where do you hail from?”
Kouris spared a moment to bow politely at the Queen, and turned to Kondo-Kana, saying, “From the sca-isjin of Kyrindval, my little friend.”
“Ah. You still keep the old words,” Kondo-Kana said, evidently pleased. “But the pane have always remained untouched by time and war alike. Truly the wisest of all Isjin's races.”
Queen Nasrin kept her eyes on me the entire time, pulling her hair free of Kondo-Kana's hands and tucking it over her shoulder.
“Now, before Kana gets stuck reminiscing—do you have it? Did you do it?”
The words came out more stiffly than she'd intended them to. She was refusing to let herself get her hopes up, despite what I held between my hands.
“I have it,” I said. “Gavern's head.”
I held it out to her as though it was nothing more than a sack of potatoes, but when Queen Nasrin reached to take it, I found myself stepping back.
“Promise, first. Promise you'll help us back to Felheim,” I said, holding the head out of her reach. Acting as though it wasn't already too late for bargaining.
I was toeing a fine line. Queen Nasrin stared up at me, eyes hard, and I could practically feel the headache Atthis was giving himself, still not used to having no authority in a situation like this.
“I won't promise anything of the sort until I see what you've brought,” Queen Nasrin said firmly. “Anyone's head could be in there; there's hardly any shortage of the sort, down in Port Mahon.”
“Nasrin,” Kondo-Kana said, clicking her tongue. “It's Gavern's head.”
“And how do you know such a thing? It's a head, I won't contest that, but you never met the man.”
Kondo-Kana shrugged.
“I trust Rowan,” she said. “She would not lie.”
“Must you always insist on taking everyone else's side?” Queen Nasrin asked, rolling her shoulders when Kondo-Kana leant against her back.
“I cannot help it. She is my Aejin yu ka Aejin,” Kondo-Kana said, resting her chin against the Queen's shoulder.
“Can't you just say necromancer like the rest of us?” Queen Nasrin said, not going to the effort of shrugging Kondo-Kana off for a second time. “Very well. If it will put an end to this current annoyance, then you have my word. Present Gavern's head to me immediately and I shall put you on the next ship back to Felheim.”
The cut of her frown told me that I'd already pushed her further than most had, and I didn't wait for her to change her mind. With all eyes on me, I cleared a space on the desk, put down the head and peeled back the strips of fabric. Sunken eyes stared blankly at nothing, sallow skin darkening around the lips and throat. Akela had ensured it'd been a clean cut, but a severed head was still a severed head.
Atthis cleared his throat and looked away while Kondo-Kana paused to contemplate what was before her, and the Queen nodded to herself, fingers pressed to her lips.
“That's Gavern,” she murmured, and then looked between Kouris, Atthis and myself, as though searching for the correct way to react. “I didn't think you'd actually do it. This is—this is good.”
“I hear you're a woman of your word,” Kouris said, stepping forward. She scooped Gavern's head up in a palm and carefully wrapped the strips of cloth back around it. “You've done a lot of good for Canth, but you know that. Twenty-four years I lived in Canth while your father was on the throne, and the country did nothing but tear itself apart. I like to think this here will be helping you as much as it helps us.”
“Of course,” Queen Nasrin said, quickly coming back to herself. She proved not to be too squeamish to take the head. “Of course. Rowan tells me that you're Queen Kouris, and your companion is none other than King Atthis. Both presumed dead, one more recently than the other. For all the proof I have, you could be the Queen of Myros or my cook's favourite butcher. Regardless, a ship sets sail for Ironash at dawn, weather permitting. I hope to hear favourable reports of Kastelir in the years to come, as I expect you will hear of Canth.”
Nothing more was said. Queen Nasrin dismissed us with a look, and Atthis and Kouris concluded the meeting with respectful, practised bows. I backed out of the room, watching Queen Nasrin stare down at what remained of Gavern with a curled lip, and closed the door on the price we'd had to pay as though it would help me forget it.
In the hallway, Varn let her composure slide and congratulated me by way of punching me in the shoulder. Atalanta came over and shook my hand, assuring me that I'd done a terribly good job, really, considering that even Varn hadn't been able to take Gavern down; it was the start of better things for all of Canth, she said.
But nothing anyone said reached further than my ears. I was already adrift at sea, salt on my skin, wind howling through me, straining to see the land creeping over the horizon; straining to understand what awaited us in my own country, one I'd long since betrayed, and a land razed to ash by dragons and resurrected by those who spread suffering to make saviours of themselves.