I sat out on the front step of Goblin's cabin, too frustrated to hide away.
I watched people pass and wordlessly dared them to approach me, to say something, but they only walked faster when I didn't blink. Claire's words had stirred something within them, and though that something was enough to stop a mob from flooding the street, it wouldn't last long.
I didn't care. Let them come for me, let them say what they would. They'd always be frightened of me, no matter how I fought to prove myself, and so I might as well use that to my advantage. I'd lasted months in my farmhouse, in the fields, and none had come for me. None had dared to lay their hands on me, convinced they were safe, so long as they kept their distance.
I rested my chin on my knees, eyes fixed on the tower. Claire would be less inclined than ever to leave its walls, and though what had happened would never turn the Orinhalians against her, the fact that she'd sided with a necromancer might. She was the whole reason I was staying, and yet I couldn't bring myself to walk up to the tower, to see if she was alright. I was too busy convincing myself that she didn't need me.
Goblin, having heard what had happened, brought me dinner, but I couldn't make myself eat. I couldn't even bring myself to be angry at Ash for starting this all, despite having absolutely no intention of ever apologising to Ghost.
“Yrval...” a voice came, dragging me from my thoughts. Kouris was stood over me, blocking the setting sun. “I'm sorry. I got ahead of myself.”
I grunted and she crouched in front of me, tilting her head to the side in an effort to meet my gaze.
“I needed you, Kouris. It's been hard here. Everyone knows what I am, and it's all happening again. And Claire, she's...” I paused, exhaling sharply. “I thought I'd feel better, seeing her. But everything with Katja's still right there and... and I needed you. You marched in here, and you looked at me in exactly the same way as everyone else always has.”
“I can't begin to apologise enough,” she said, and I lifted my chin, not about to avert my gaze any longer. “I got ahead of myself. I was too wrapped up in what had been done, not the fact that you'd been the one to do it. I know you, yrval. Of course you'd never want to hurt the pane. You never want to hurt anyone.”
I let a hand fall to the side, gesturing for her to sit next to me. No matter what she'd accused me of, I needed to lean against her.
“I'm sorry. For what I said,” I murmured, burying my face in the side of her arm.
“... don't be. You were only voicing what I've thought plenty of times,” she said, tensing in a way that said she was fighting not to put her arm around me, uncertain of how much was too much. “Guess I've got to be owning up to my past now and again.”
I wanted to forgive her, but things still didn't feel right. She'd love Oak, if only she'd meet him, yet I couldn't help but say, “You still think I did something wrong, don't you?”
Kouris shuffled, fingers knitting together.
“Can't be saying I think it was the right thing to do, all things considered,” she eventually said. “But I'm not holding it against you, yrval.”
I sat back up straight and Kouris said, “Claire told me about Kidira. Told me she's still alive. I'm gonna be heading up towards the mountains, towards Kyrindval. Word is, she left a month ago, looking for another way to help. Now, I understand that you probably don't want to be tracking her down with me, but come with me, yrval. Come to Kyrindval. You'll be safe there. They're not gonna care whether you're a necromancer or not.”
She was leaving already.
She'd been in Orinhal for a matter of hours, and yet she was already moving on, off to find the woman she'd left alone for decades. She was angry at what I'd done but not at me, which likely meant that I ought to stop feeling nauseous, and as much as I longed for the warm welcome Kyrindval would doubtlessly offer me, I couldn't go with her.
“I need to stay here,” I said. “For Claire.”
“Just paid her a visit. Can't say she's in the most talkative of moods,” Kouris hummed. "That pane of hers filled in most of the gaps in the conversation."
“Sen,” I said. “And I'm not surprised. I... don't know how to help her, Kouris. I don't know how to help myself.”
Kouris placed a hand on my back, rubbing between my shoulder blades.
“It's not all up to you, yrval. Just be remembering that.”
I fell back against her side, and none dared to wander too close to a necromancer and a pane. I understood why she felt compelled to leave, but wished that she wouldn't; I wished that this was the end of our journey, but more than that, I wished that Orinhal felt like as much of a home as Mahon had.
“Are you sure you're really wanting to stay here?” Kouris asked, rising to her feet. I nodded, not forcing myself to voice the right answer, and she swooped down, hesitating before kissing me atop the head. “I'm sorry about what I said, yrval. Honestly. You know how much I love you.”
The corners of my mouth twitched into a faint smile, and I said, “... Charley's alive, too. He's over in the stables.”
Kouris grinned in earnest, fangs showing, and within a handful of seconds, she was gone, horns no longer visible over the thinning crowds.
I decided that there was nothing for it but to pick at my food. I took the tray inside, set it down on my bed, and ate a little at a time, waiting for the thoughts that rushed through my mind to give way to sleep. My head was full of flashes Claire and Kouris, and it was late out – close to midnight – when it finally occurred to me to sink beneath the covers.
I pulled them back and there was a knock at the door. I ignored it, fell down on the bed, but it sounded again, more urgent than before. I listened out for sounds within the cabin, but it seemed I was the only one around. I waited for a third knock before dragging myself down the corridor and opened it, only to be met by Sen's worried eyes.
“Rowan. You need to... need to come with me,” she said, not taking the time to apologise for coming at such a late hour. I was out of the door before she'd finished explaining. “I, ah. Made the Marshal dinner, but when I returned for the dishes, the doors were bolted from the inside. It's happened before and I tried not to worry, but... a-after today.”
I ran to the tower doors and pulled on the handles myself. The doors rattled in the frame, refusing to budge more than an inch.
“I don't know what to do,” Sen admitted, eyes stained a pale silver.
I beat my fists on the door, calling, “Claire! Claire, open up!” but there was no response.
I stepped back, kicked the door for good measure, and rushed around to the side. The windows were big enough to climb through, but shutters had been pulled across from the inside. From where I stood, I couldn't knock them off their hinges.
“Sen. Break the shutters.”
“B-but—”
“Are you more worried about Claire being angry with you or something bad happening to Claire?”
I hadn't dared to think that something had happened, and saying it out loud caused us both to freeze for the briefest moment. Setting her jaw, Sen stepped forward and knocked the shutters clean through with a single strike. Wood clattered against the floor and Sen helped me climb through.
“Go. Go home. I'll come find you once I know everything's alright,” I said.
I didn't think I was brave enough to head up the stairs if I knew Sen was there, waiting, and she saw it in my expression. Bowing her head, Sen stepped away, and I stared at the stairs, telling myself that Claire was asleep. She'd wanted to be alone, locked herself in, drank too much and passed out; that's all that had happened.
I took the stairs slowly, gripping the banister tighter than I needed to.
“Claire,” I called out. “Claire, it's me.”
I was going to find her in bed, sleeping. I'd worried for nothing.
A single candle burnt low on the table, casting just enough light for me to make out the grain of the room.
Claire wasn't sleeping.
She was sat on the edge of the bed, grasping her dragon-bone knife between both hands.
“Claire...” I said softly, not daring to blink, lest tears spill out. “I came to see if you were alright. And I can see that you're not, but that's okay. Can I have the knife? Please?”
The blade pointed at the ceiling, no more steady than the rest of her. I stayed exactly where I was, glanced at the empty bottle rolled halfway across the table, and Claire shook her head, over and over. I took a single step forward and she clutched the knife harder, leg trembling more than ever.
I could wrestle the knife out of her hands, if I moved quickly enough. I was confident of that much, but I didn't want to have to pry it away from her. I held my breath, counted down from ten, and took another step. She didn't flinch, and I took another, and then another, until I could slowly kneel down in front of her.
“Don't,” she said, screwing her eyes shut. “Don't...”
“Don't what, Claire?” I asked softly, doing all I could to keep my eyes on her, and not the unsteady blade inches from my face.
“Don't look at me, I...” she murmured, and once those words were free, the rest clawed their way out of her. “By the time we found a healer, it was far too late. But if the scars were fresh...”
My chest ached as though everything within it was too frail to hold onto for much longer, and Claire released the knife with one hand, reaching up to touch the burns across her face. I brought my hands up, gently rested my fingers on her wrists when her hand fell back into her lap, and she said, “Please. Please, I cannot—I am trapped.”
“I can't do that, Claire. You can't do that. I want to help you, more than anything, but this isn't the way to do it. I understand, I really do, but you can't heal yourself by hurting yourself. Not properly. Do you remember what you said to me, after you'd slayed that dragon and returned to Isin? You said that sometimes, you expected the scars to still be there. You'd look in the mirror and not understand why you looked the way you did. It's not going to go away, Claire. And if you do this to yourself... you'll never get a chance to let it feel even a little bit better,” I said, brushing my thumbs across the backs of her hands.
Opening her eyes back up, Claire looked as though she wanted to laugh, but could only grimace.
“You understand? Of course you don't, Rowan.”
“Listen to me, please,” I said, head bowed forward. I grazed my lips against the back of the hand holding the knife and said, “I told you that Katja hurt me, didn't I? She thought I could make her into a necromancer. When I wouldn't, she decided to practise on me. She hurt me Claire. She put knives in me, over and over. In my chest, in my stomach. It went on for days, and I can still feel them, as though the metal's stuck inside of me. But that's not it, that's...”
I paused, having to look away for a second. My throat was closed and my thoughts became dense, unsearchable. My chest heaved and I said what I could, what little I could, to make Claire understand that I knew something of what she felt.
“She said she was going to make me a better necromancer. She wanted to show me what I was capable of, so she... she cut off my hand. She cut off my hand and she was right. There's so much I can do. It grew back, but... But it's not my hand. I look at it and I know it's not my hand. I curl my fingers and it doesn't feel like my hand. I touch you and it's not my hand, it's not my hand, and I want to cut it off again but—”
I was breathing heavily through grit teeth, eyes stinging.
“It still wouldn't be my hand. It's never going to be my hand, it's never going to feel like it should. It's like... like it weighs too much, or too little, and when I grip it, it's almost like it's her hand. I don't...” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I wish it had never grown back.”
Claire was looking at me, seeing me through the haze that had enveloped her. She freed a hand from my gentle grasp and brought it to my cheek. My heart quickened with everything I wasn't feeling. I'd said all of that and nothing like shame ran through me; I didn't feel as though I was worth less because the words had finally left me.
I placed both of my hands around the one clasping the knife and Claire's grip loosened. The knife passed into my hands and I rose shakily to my feet, stepping back to place it on the table.
When I returned to Claire, I didn't crouch down again. I pulled her close and she slumped against me, face buried in my chest. I clasped her shoulder with one hand and carefully ran the tips of my fingers through her hair, feeling the unsteady rise and fall of her chest as she let herself be anything but still.
“I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, Rowan. I want so much to be of comfort to you, and yet...” She bit down on her lower lip and I held her closer. “I expect everyone says that they're sorry, or that... that it was awful, or. Or, I could say that I would've protected you, but that feels selfish. I think I have spent so much time thinking of how I could've avoided all this that my thoughts have been poisoned against the present. I hope you know that I...”
She stopped short, and I leant forward, kissing the top of her head.
“I wish I knew why you – why you – tolerated any of this. You ought not to suffer for my vices.”
“Because...” I began, but I couldn't say it. Not while Claire was like this. Not while we were like this. “I'm here, okay? I'm here because I want to be.”
“I think,” Claire murmured, “That this is how it should be. If I had not failed Kastelir so, all this death, this war, it wouldn't...”
“You can't blame yourself for this, Claire. You did what you could to help Kastelir, what no one else was willing to. You gave up so much – your status, your wealth, your home – and you gave Kastelir enough to fight back,” I said, “And look at all you sacrificed to protect Isin, at the very end. This isn't a punishment. It just... isn't fair.”
Claire said nothing more, and I could only hope that my words had reached her. I sat next to her on the bed and kept my arms around her, and colourless exhaustion took her all at once. She didn't sleep peacefully, but she did sleep, heavy in my arms. The whole night through, into morning, my eyes didn't once grow heavy. I shuffled back, leant against the wall, and she barely stirred enough to move with me.
I kept my hand – my new hand – on the back of her head, fingers trailing through her hair. If I was to convince Claire there was a way to live in what her body had been twisted into, I had to do the same for myself. I had to believe that the hand was part of me, and that it was Katja who caused my thoughts to wind back with little rhyme or reason; I was merely trying to place the blame upon myself.
When Claire began to wake, she did so groggily, groaning under her breath. I prepared myself for how she might act, now that the alcohol had been given time to seep out of her system, and placed my hands on her shoulders to help her sit up straight.
“Morning,” I said, and her sole reply was to lean forward, face buried in her hands. “... I'll get you some water.”
I poured a glass from the pitcher, tasting a drop for myself to ensure that it was water. I stood in front of her, glass held out, and one hand remained plastered against her face as she reached for it.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as she downed half of the glass in one go, and then looked nauseous for it.
“I am still...” she said in a hoarse voice, “I believe I shall not feel it quite so keenly once I have eaten.”
I pressed my fingertips to her temple, certain her head must be pounding, but she took hold of my wrist and pulled my hand away.
“No. No easy way out,” she said.
She didn't have to suffer to prove herself to me and enduring a headache would hardly teach the longest lasting lesson – it wouldn't even be the first time she'd learnt it – but I let her be.
“Shall I get Sen? She'll probably make a better breakfast than I can,” I said, and Claire stared down at the glass she was now clutching between both hands and nodded shallowly. “... I should just go, shouldn't I?”
“It is not that I object to your company,” Claire said, looking up at me. “But I am ashamed of myself. Embarrassed beyond all reason. It is difficult enough to be alone with myself, let alone with you here. I need time to sort my thoughts out. To find a way to better myself.”
“Alright,” I said, pointedly taking the dragon-bone knife from the table and slipping it into the waistband of my trousers. Claire grit her teeth together and said nothing. “I'm going to keep coming over, though. To make sure you're alright. You don't have to let me in, if you don't want to. I just need to know that you're safe.”
“That may be wise,” Claire said darkly, and looked away from me.
Her cane was at the far side of the room, thrown there, more likely than not, and I picked it up before I left and laid it across the bed. Claire said nothing to me, and I told myself I understood why she wanted to be alone; what she said must've been coming back to her word by word, and she needed time for her own voice to stop resounding quite so loudly within her head.
I was almost afraid to leave her alone, but watching over her every minute of the day wouldn't have been good for either of us.
I unbolted the tower door, feeling the full weight of my exhaustion when I stepped out into the early morning light. I wanted nothing more than to bury my face in a pillow or my hands and sob until my body had no choice but to sleep for a week, but I had to fetch Sen first.
I walked with my head down, but keeping to myself wasn't an option for me anymore. A handful of those going about their business around the tower recognised me, and word spread quickly. Someone observed that I'd been in the tower all night, but I knew better than to engage them. I didn't stop until I was at Sen's cabin, and knocked half a dozen times.
She answered the door within seconds, having no doubt waited up all night for news, and once again, Akela was with her. I smiled weakly at them both, relieved that Sen hadn't been alone and said, “Sorry it took so long. Claire fell asleep and I didn't want to disturb her.”
Sen covered her hearts with her hand and Akela patted her on the back, saying, “See, what am I saying? If Ightham is in trouble, then Northwood, she is coming to find us right away.”
Akela's usual booming confidence didn't reach her voice. She was almost as relieved as Sen was to see me there, having spent all night being positive enough for the two of them.
“She wants breakfast,” was the only thing I could bring myself to say, and seeing my shoulders hunched up by my ears, Akela hurried to excuse herself.
“Well, now that I am knowing Ightham is fine, it is time for work. Yes, yes, the fun, it is never ending! We are going on a scouting mission. Rylan, he is heading somewhere to do something, that is what the rumours are saying. He is getting to a town and just in time, he is saving it from dragons, it is being most convenient,” she said, shaking her head. “I am returning in four days. You are not allowing Sen to work too hard, yes?”
“I'll try my best,” I assured her, and she left us with an exaggerated bow.
The counters in Sen's kitchen were too high for me to offer much help. I had enough trouble climbing onto one of the chairs around the table. Sen continued to frown as she set about preparing a meal, ears low and trembling, and I looked anywhere but at her. Wooden birds lined the windowsill and the backs of the counters, all of them meticulously well carved, and I managed to smile, thinking that Reis would like them.
Birds chirped and clucked from the tiny garden Sen had to call her own, and she peered out of the window, concerned, already having far too much to attend to.
“How long has Claire been drinking like that?” I heard myself ask.
Sen stopped scrapping butter onto toast and said, “Since I've known her. I-I've tried to stop it. I never t-take anything to her and I always make sure there's... there's nothing her room, but, s-s—still, s-she...”
“It's alright,” I rushed to assure her, and she took a deep breath, stuttering stilling her tongue. “It's been a problem for a long time. Before I knew her. We just have to look after her as best we can. Even if she gets angry at us, even if it feels like we're taking away her privacy. She won't get any better, otherwise.”
It was as much as Sen could do to nod in agreement. Her nerves were all but frayed, and she went about finishing up breakfast with unsteady hands.
“Claire's lucky to have you,” I said. “I can see how much you do for her, Sen. She couldn't ask for anyone better.”
“I-I hope that's true,” Sen said, embarrassed. “... thank you, Rowan.”
I held the doors open for her, and Sen thanked me far too much for that, too. We parted ways, Sen heading for the tower, but when I thought of returning to Goblin's cabin – to streets filled with humans – I couldn't bring myself to move. I sat down on her front step, not knowing what to do with myself, now that I had no work to attend to.
I caught the attention of plenty of pane. Unlike the humans around Orinhal, they didn't stand there and gawk, whispering things about me to their friends. They smiled and waved, asking me if there was anything I needed. Asking because they wanted to help, not as a means of telling me that I had no business there. A few of them had yet to master Mesomium and fumbled over their words, grinning in pleasant surprise when I replied in Svargan.
It was midday before Sen returned. Claire's day had got off to a slower start than usual, setting Sen's usual schedule back a few hours, and she looked down at me with concern she couldn't place. She'd just come from the tower; she knew Claire was fine.
“Can I stay here?” I asked. I hadn't thought it through, but it felt like the right thing to do. “I'm only causing trouble at Goblin's, and Akela did tell me not to let you work too hard. I can help out! I can cook. Maybe not as well as you, but I can cook, and you have chickens, don't you? I know how to look after them and—”
“Rowan,” Sen said through a smile, hand on my shoulder. “You can stay here. I'd like that.”
The cabin only had one bedroom, which Sen apologised for profusely, but the sofa was more than enough for me. It was the size of most of beds I'd ever slept in, swamped in cushions and deer-skin blankets. The room was cosy by pane standards and far too big for me, and Sen truly had done all she could to make it her home. A mantelpiece ran over the fireplace, covered in yet more tiny wooden birds, and books were stacked on the shelves around the room. One was lying open on what I presumed was a low table – it came up to my hip – in the centre of the room.
“Did you make all of these?” I asked, running my fingers along the mantelpiece, barely brushing away a speck of dust in the process. “They're really good. I know a friend who's always carving things like this and they'd definitely be impressed.”
“I like birds...” Sen murmured, scratching the back of her head.
“So does Akela!” I said. “She wants a chicken, actually.”
“I know,” Sen said, brightening a little. “I was thinking, the next chicken I hatch, m-maybe she'd like that...”
“Definitely!” I said, glad to see her beam.
Remembering herself, Sen cleared her throat and said, “I'll find a step and you can help me with lunch. I-if you want to.”
Claire was far from the only person Sen cooked for. There were a handful of younger pane whose cabins were left empty throughout the day, guardians working around the city, and Sen made meals for them, as well as a handful of older humans throughout Orinhal. I helped her prepare the meals, sizing down the humans' portions, and took to feeding the chickens and raven chicks while Sen made her deliveries.
It was close to impossible to send a raven anywhere of worth without the Felheimish shooting them down, but Sen was convinced that there'd be a use for them, by the time they were grown.
For two days, I was content in Sen's cabin. I wandered the streets freely, for I was the only human with any business in the pane district, and I visited Claire without warning, taking breakfast to her or stopping in between meetings for a few minutes. She wasn't resistant to seeing me, not exactly, but she wasn't always as welcoming as I'd hoped. Still, I knew I needed to be there, knew that shame and stress mingled within her, and did what I could to look beyond all that.
“Do you want to have dinner with the Marshal tonight?” Sen asked as I peeled carrots with a knife that could've doubled as a short-sword. “N-not that I don't want to eat with you, ah. But you've been here the last two nights, and... do you think this is too much?”
“It looks fine,” I said. It wasn't perfect; there was more than I could eat, definitely more than Claire could get through, but Sen was learning. “I think I'll go to Claire's. I'll take the tray and you can finally finish up that book you were reading.”
Sen was getting a little better about taking time for herself, too.
“It's getting to the good bit...” Sen said, grinning around her fangs. “The main character, she's trying to save her mother from...”
A knock at the door make her ears stand up.
“Sen! It's me!” Ash called. “You got Rowan in there?”
I put the knife down at the sound of my name, carrot-half peeled, and left Sen to keep an eye on the stew. I hadn't spoken to Ash since the incident outside of the tower, and I found myself eager to confront her. I wasn't angry. I hadn't had the energy for that those past few days, but I burnt with curiosity. I needed to know what had led her to tell people about me.
I pulled the door open and Ash sighed in relief.
“Thank goodness! Been looking for you all over. Marshal's too busy to be bothered and Akela's off who-knows-where, but we got a couple of new arrivals claiming to know you,” she said, leaning against the door frame. “Now, we're not in the habit of turning anyone away, but I thought I'd check out their story and let you know they're here.”
Atthis and Katja.
When I was in Orinhal, I could forget about the war raging through the territories, but I hadn't been able to put Katja out of my mind. I'd spent so long dreading her arrival that I'd let myself believe that anxiety and apprehension had been the worst of it.
“Sen,” I called into the kitchen, “I'm heading to the tower now. I'll be back as soon as I can.”
“Listen, Rowan. Wanted to explain about the whole—”
“Where are they now?”
“Down by the gates. But listen, I—”
“Bring them to Claire straight away,” I told her, setting off, “Seriously. Right now.”
There was still a good half an hour before dinner, and Claire was sat down with three soldiers, studying a scroll one of them had brought. I burst through the door and they all turned to look at me, soldiers scowling, and Claire furrowed her brow. I had minutes at most before Ash arrived with Katja and Atthis in tow and needed everyone but Claire out of there.
“Sorry. Sorry, but I need to talk to you,” I said, eyes wide and pleading.
One of the soldiers scoffed, no doubt aware of who I was, and Claire said, “If you could wait a few minutes, Rowan, I'm certain we'd all appreciate it.”
“Please. It's important, Claire.”
Claire held my gaze, and relented after a few seconds. She dismissed the soldiers with a tilt of her head, saying that they'd continue the discussion first thing in the morning, and each one of them glowered at me on the way out. I made sure the door was firmly closed behind them, as if that was enough to keep Katja out, and Claire rose to her feet, knowing I'd never interrupt her like that unless it was urgent.
“What is it?” she asked. “Has something happened?”
“No, I'm fine, it's just... Atthis and Katja are here. They're at the gate with Ash, and...”
The way Claire was looking at me caused the words to dry up in my mouth. She wasn't glaring, nor was she scowling, but there was something deeply discomforting in her expression, as though it masked an anger that had never been spoken of.
“Katja,” she said dryly. “Katja is here, in Orinhal?”
“Yes? She was being brought here by Atthis. You knew that, you knew she was...” I paused, bringing a hand to my mouth. “You didn't know that.”
Claire sat back down, clasping her hands together.
“I thought she was in Canth. Imprisoned or escaped. I did not want to presume to press you on the matter,” she said in a frighteningly even tone.
I'd assumed that Akela had told her, but a look told me how wrong I'd been. She stared at the centre of her desk, not blinking, and I was certain a word from her would knock me back.
“You can be mad at me later,” I said, glancing at the door, willing it to remain closed. “What's going to happen with her?”
“I should like to execute her,” Claire said, words recoiling against my chest.
Time was running out. Any moment now, Katja would be there. She'd be in the room with Claire, and after all she'd said to drive her blades in deeper, I couldn't stomach the thought of how she'd relish in what Claire had become.
“Claire,” I said firmly. “You can't execute her. And even if you did, how would that look? Executing a healer to protect me. To protect a necromancer.”
Claire's gaze broke away from whatever scuff in the wood had claimed her attention, and meeting my gaze, she said, “... there is room in the prison, I suppose.”
Relief hammered in my chest. I barely felt as though I had my own freedom when Katja was denied hers, and I don't know how I would've endured knowing she was free to come and go as she pleased.
It didn't take much longer for Atthis and Katja to arrive. I stood by Claire's side, wrist clasped behind my back as the handle turned, and Ash pulled the door open. She showed Atthis and Katja inside, and I stared between them, unable to focus on anything or anyone for a moment.
I wanted Claire to see what a monster Katja was, but she was remarkably well put together. The signs of a journey wore on her, but there wasn't a smudge of dirt across her face; her hair was recently cleaned and braided back, loose strands framing her bright, cheerful face. She sat at the other side of the desk, perfectly attentive. Not once did her attention wander, nor did her lips twitch or her fingers rub against each other, as mine now did.
“Ightham,” Atthis breathed, bringing a fist to his chest. “I can't tell you how glad I am to find you alive.”
“The same to you,” Claire said, nodding politely. “Galal's been talking of nothing but your return for weeks. Where is he now?”
“On duty,” Ash chimed in, “I've sent someone to track him down.”
As if she hadn't heard Ash, Claire turned to Katja. She stared at her without a word, silently goading her to say all that must be roiling behind her perfectly placid expression. Katja leant forward, and folded her hands together in her lap. With a smile so effortlessly sincere that even I was at risk of being taken in by it, Katja took the initiative and began speaking her venom.
“Sir Igh—goodness, I do apologise. It's Marshal Ightham now, isn't it? Marshal, in the weeks it took me and Uncle Atthis to travel through Kastelir, I believe we expected many things from Orinhal. Plenty of which we didn't dare to voice out loud, for fear that our hopes would desert us once we reached the city. I believe I speak for the both of us when I say we never dreamt of finding something this grand, this extensive. The city and the people within it are thriving, thanks in no small part to your efforts, Marshal. You've done Kastelir a great service.”
She was still smiling at Claire. She actually dared to smile at her, while I went unnoticed. Try as I might, I felt nothing seep from Katja; her oily fingers didn't move unseen through the air, grasping for my throat, my chest, my wrist.
“I do all that I can for the people of the territories,” Claire said flatly. She spoke as though Katja was a stranger; as though I hadn't tasted bile in my throat to speak of her. “If you're to reside within Orinhal, the first thing you'll have to accept is that Kastelir as you knew it is no more. The country has been disbanded.”
Katja was startled by what Claire said, there was no getting around that, but nothing like outrage resounded within her. She took time to digest the news while Atthis strode forward, one hand clamping down on Katja's side of the desk. I looked away, unable to face him. After being forced from his own country for years on end, he'd returned to find himself nothing but the memory of a king long since presumed dead.
“You have done what, Ightham?” Atthis demanded.
“Marshal,” Ash corrected him from the door.
Atthis ignored her and leant forward, while Claire remained perfectly calm.
“You rend my kingdom into mere shreds and then tell me that I must accept it?” Atthis spat. “Who are you to do such a thing?”
Claire kept her lips pursed together, giving Atthis a moment to stew in his anger. She meant to answer him, none of us doubted that, but Katja beat her to it. Pivoting in her seat, Katja clung to the back of the chair, eyes flashing with what could've been embarrassment at his outburst.
“Uncle. Do you hear yourself? The Marshal has dedicated years of her life to protecting this land and its people, and you ask her who she is to make such a decision,” she said sternly. Atthis seemed to shrink from her, only then realising what he'd said. “Ask yourself this: what's more important to you, to all of us? Reclaiming your title of King or protecting the countless people suffering across these lands? Kastelir was in no fine shape before the dragons came. This is our home, and it is better that we allow it to divide itself, rather than see it fall to pieces.”
Atthis rubbed a hand across his mouth, and nodded his head in slow, shallow motions. He wouldn't risk shouting at Claire again, not with so many people to witness his ignorance. He'd spent all that time in Canth thinking the world would wait for him; we all had.
“I... apologise, Ightham. I have been away from my... from these lands, and understand nothing of what any of you have endured,” he said, hand clamping down on Katja's shoulder. “I should like to be brought up to speed, once I have seen my son.”
“Reforging the territories was a decision made by the people, not myself. Kidira has been nothing but supportive of the notion,” Claire explained, for the sake of not letting Katja say it all. At the sound of Kidira's name, Atthis' face paled and Katja gripped the arms of her chair, leaning forward. For all Katja had done to me, to all of us, I didn't resent the relief that was bestowed upon her. Claire looked between the two of them, nodding in confirmation. “Kidira is alive and well. However, she doesn't currently reside within Orinhal. She left Kyrindval almost two months ago, in order to attend to other matters.”
Katja had been controlled thus far. I knew it was a fleeting façade, engineered to make me look like a liar. She knew how I'd been forced to handle what she'd done, knew what I wouldn't have been able to help but blurt out to Claire; yet there she was, calm enough to see clearly when a King could not. More than that, she was defending Claire and all she'd striven for. How could she have done all I'd accused her of? The only genuine thing she did throughout that entire meeting was suck in a shaky breath, trembling as she wiped her eyes on her sleeves, overwhelmed by the knowledge that her mother was alive.
“Thank the gods,” she said with a trembling laugh. “Oh, dear me. Listen to that. I really was in Canth for far too long.”
Claire was far from moved by her open display of emotion.
“Galal ought to be with us momentarily,” Claire assured Atthis, and turned to Katja, saying, “And as for you, Katja, the guards shall escort you to the prison.”
Katja's expression didn't darken, but every tense muscle in my body unwound. Claire believed me. She'd seen Katja at her best and chose to believe me regardless.
“Please, Marshal. My name is Kouris. Nobody calls me Katja,” she said calmly, forgetting the tears she'd just shed for her mother. “And might I ask why?”
“You are more than aware of what you've done,” Claire returned.
Sighing, Katja propped her jaw up on her fist and said, “Well, of course I am. I suppose there's no getting around that much; and indeed, there is no denying what I did, or excusing it. But I should like a chance to speak for myself, if I may.”
“You might,” Claire said. Had she taken half a second longer to reply, I would've beaten her to it; I would've demanded to hear her out, desperate to know how she'd lie to defend herself.
“It's plain to see how much you've endured in our absence, Marshal. Before returning to Asar, we didn't dare to imagine that you might be alive. We certainly couldn't have fathomed all that you've suffered through in order to survive, and I doubt we may never understand the true extent of it. In the same way, you have no clear understanding of what I have been through.
“I was forced to leave my home burning behind me. I found myself in a land without money, without connections; I didn't even speak the language. All I had was the constant, gnawing knowledge that those I loved – my mother, my friends – were dead, and that I ought to have remained behind in the same way they did.
“Naturally, it got a little better, in time. I began to understand my surroundings, found people I considered family, and worked as a healer to pay my way. Yet all I knew was that the people of Kastelir, my people, were suffering. Suffering at the hands of Felheim; the hands of my fiancé's family.
“Surely I should've been able to do something. I had spent plenty of time within Thule, and... and the last time I visited, Marshal, Alexander had seemed so distracted. Goodness. At the time, I thought he was having second thoughts, though he assured me nothing was wrong. But of course, it's so clear now; it was your absence, wasn't it? I never did get to meet the sister he spoke so fondly of.
“I lost myself somewhere along the way, Marshal. Lost myself in the blame I'd convinced myself I deserved, and acted atrociously. Desperate times, and whatnot. I only ever did what I believed would help Kastelir—these four territories, rather. It has never truly been about me.”
None of us spoke, none of us looked at each other. None of us took our eyes off Katja, and I knew of no way to scream that she was lying, lying, lying; every word she said was the truth. I didn't doubt that she believed every last syllable that slipped from her tongue. When I was chained to her stove, it wasn't about me, either; it was about what I could do, and how that power could be harnessed to save Kastelir.
Claire's expression didn't change throughout any part of Katja's story. Not even when she mentioned Prince Alexander.
“A touching tale, but you still engaged in torture,” Claire replied bluntly. “To speak nothing of murder.”
“I did,” Katja admitted, swallowing the lump in her throat. It was all wrong; why wasn't she denying it, claiming that I'd lost myself in a darker way than she had? Without taking her eyes off Claire, she raised a hand and pointed at me. “Then how is it that you're so freely excusing her actions?”
I stepped back, mistaking her finger for a blade.
“Rowan acted in self-defence,” Claire said plainly, not needing to point out that her death hadn't been of the permanent sorts.
“Oh, goodness. She hasn't told you, has she?” Katja said, utterly delighted. Her lips curled into something more sinister than any smile she'd offered up thus far, and I wanted to cling to the front of her shirt, to cover her mouth with my hand and keep it there, no matter how she bit and bit. “I do wonder how many secrets she's keeping from you.”
“Hasn't told me what?” Claire asked, impatience finally seeping through.
“How do you think we bartered for passage back to Felheim? You're a smart woman, Marshal. You must know that it would never have been a matter of gold,” Katja said, pausing to hide her smile beneath her fingers. “She murdered someone and delivered the head to Queen Nasrin herself. Assassination on behalf of royalty is still assassination.”
Nothing was said. Katja's words hung in the air, and Claire couldn't find a way to reply to her. I watched Katja spill what I'd tried to make into a secret, powerless to stop her. What could I have done? Leapt on her and beat silence into her? I'd illustrate whatever point she wanted to make better than she could ever hope to.
Eventually, Claire managed to say, “It is not my responsibility to punish crimes committed in Canth,” setting her jaw the moment she realised what she'd said.
“Exactly,” Katja said, pleased.
Claire didn't falter again.
“Very well. I see you've delighted in making your point,” she said. “I shall have accommodation set aside for you, with guards to watch over you. At such a time as I feel comfortable letting you wander the streets of Orinhal, you will be the first to know.”
“I suppose I cannot ask for more, at this very moment,” Katja said, sighing. “Do keep in mind, Marshal, that I still know these lands and the people therein better than most. Please, don't feel you ought to hesitate to request my help. I want so very much to be of assistance, to save my people. Orinhal may be safe, but your brother's soldiers still roam the territories, garnering support beyond its borders.”
No longer listening to Katja, Claire raised a hand when Ash stepped forward and said, “Not you. Find Barns and Minoa and have them handle the transfer. And should I find that this information has spread, you will spend the rest of your days serving Orinhal amongst a pile of dirty laundry.”
Ash fumed, close to trembling for the faith Claire had lost in her, but after all she'd heard – after all she now knew about me – she didn't dare to speak her mind.
She brought back the soldiers Claire had requested, and I didn't hear a word that passed between them all. They were there for close to half an hour, being lectured on the severity of the matter, but time seemed to have stilled inside my head, only moving when it could slosh from side to side. The sooner the soldiers were gone, Katja taken along with them, the sooner I was going to have to face Claire.
The soldiers marched Katja out, slamming the door behind them and taking all the air in the room as they went. With Katja gone, the spell was broken; I could move again. My body tried to do too much at once. I was pacing and stomping my feet, tugging my hair and knocking my temples with the heel of my palm, teeth grit, grinding together.
“Rowan,” I finally heard, voice breaking through the mulch beneath my skin.
“What she said, I... she shouldn't be like that. Shouldn't be that calm, that... she thought this through. Thought it all through. She's trying to make it look like I'm a liar, like I lied, and she's, she's... she should be crying. She kept crying, you know, kept pulling at her hair and going on about how awful it was, screaming and shouting. The whole way over, she'd howl a-and...”
“Rowan,” Claire said again, and I gulped down a deep breath, jaw trembling to see the worry written across her face. “Rowan, she admitted to what she'd done. And even if she had not done so, it is endlessly clear how cruel and manipulative she intends to be. I believed you when you told me, Rowan. I trust you. She isn't ever going to change that; especially when she refuses to look at you, refuses to call you by name.”
Claire was right. Katja had confessed to her crimes, yet I'd convinced myself I'd be made to look like a fraud, despite all that. Taking hold of her cane, Claire rose to her feet, meaning to cross the room. Meaning to come towards me, to reach out to me.
I stepped back, shoulder blades hitting the door frame. I didn't realise I was shaking my head until Claire said, “It's alright, Rowan. It's alright. I'm going to sit back down.”
I clutched my hands together, nails scraping across knuckles.
“B-but she said...” I said, voice cracking.
Sat back behind the desk, Claire asked, as softly as anyone could, “Who did you kill, Rowan?”
“Gavern. He was... he was a pirate,” I said, screwing my eyes shut as I spoke. “He'd been causing trouble at Port Mahon and all over Canth for years. And the Queen, she was his sister. Half-sister. He was trying to take the throne from her, even though she's doing her best to fix Canth. He killed so many of our people, attacked our home over and over again. It was our only way back here. I never would've got out of Canth if I hadn't done that. We would've been trapped there for years and years, Claire, I had to do it, I—”
Tears forced my eyes open. I rubbed my fingers against them, trying to shove them back in.
“Why did I do that, Claire?”
“None of our hands are clean,” Claire said, words soft not because she wanted to be gentle, but because she couldn't bring herself to raise her voice. How much easier this would've been for her if I could stand to let her wrap her arms around me. “Do not think that you have no choice but to let this define you, Rowan. You have been hurt in ways that few can imagine, and you have continued to fight, no matter the cost.”
I slumped down onto the floor, spine pressing between the planks of the door. The hard surfaces helped to calm me, stopped me trembling, and with my arms wrapped around my knees, I kept my eyes on Claire. How much would I have done for Queen Nasrin – for anyone – had I known that she had been alive all that time? Not so very much that she could no longer stand to look at me, I chose to believe.
“Is there anything I can get for you, Rowan? Water, perhaps?” she offered. I shook my head, sniffing loudly. “Very well. Should you change your mind, I'm not going anywhere. I shall stay with you for as long as you need me to.”
I deflated, anger and fear washing out of me, replaced by nothing but shame. If Claire had been embarrassed by what had come to pass nights ago, then what she felt was the spark that had set a fire blazing within me, feeding on every warm thought I'd ever had. I couldn't even have a conversation without one thing within me tumbling loose and pulling everything else out along with it.
“I should... you have a lot of work to do, I'm sure,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. My legs felt light, as though I hadn't eaten in days, and I blinked hard, clearing my vision. “I need to go. I need to... sleep, or rest, or something.”
“Rowan, you don't have to leave. It's of no trouble to me, and—”
I was gone, door closed behind me. It was cruel of me, I knew; all she wanted was to help, and there I was, brushing her off. Unable to bring myself to hear her out, to say goodbye, when she was doing all she could to reach out to me, patient as no one else ever would be.
My eyes stung all the way back to Sen's cabin. If anyone glowered at me as I went, I didn't see it, nor did I feel it. Their words were lost to the wind, meaningless whispers that rushed right through me. How could I have ever let myself believe that they could hurt me in some way when Katja still existed in the world?
Sen greeted me at the door. I think I mumbled out what had happened and she left soon after, taking Claire her long overdue dinner. I did all I could to distract myself. I fed the chickens and sat amongst them in Sen's garden, not crying into my hands, not crying into my hands. They pecked at the seeds I'd scattered in the grass, clucking busily around me, spreading their wings in alarm when I abruptly rose to my feet.
I'd meant what I said before. All I needed was to sleep.
I'd feel like myself in the morning.
Sen had rearranged the pillows on the sofa for me and folded the deer skin blankets on the arm. I fell down, burrowing between the seat and the back of the sofa, and clinging to myself, I felt the pillow become damp as I drifted off. It didn't take long. As I fell into sleep, I was already exhausted by the thought of ever waking again, and the prospect of dreams demanded more of me than I had to offer.
Mind hearing my pleas, for once, there was nothing but darkness behind my eyelids as I slept. I tossed and turned, convinced I was back in Canth; the heat rose more than the blankets ought to have allowed, and I rolled onto my front, grumbling into a pillow. Sen tended to sleep later and rise earlier than I did, and while she'd always done her best not to disturb me, the corridor was alive with sound.
Something cracked, a puff of a roar eating up the air.
Light reached me, though my eyes were still closed, and when Sen called out, “Rowan!” I had already breathed in a lungful of smoke. I scrambled back on the sofa, startled by the ripple of flames spreading from the door frame. Sen kicked the door clean off its hinges, fire blazing behind her, making short work of the walls.