Dragonoak (44 page)

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.