Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (34 page)

What did I expect? For her to tell me that no blood had been spilt throughout a time of war? Even I wasn't naïve enough to believe that the battles had been easy for Kouris, just because she'd won. It wasn't the killing that had created a void between us. Claire had killed, she'd told me as much herself, and my father had been a soldier; I had allowed people to die on my table, people I could've saved with a thought.

I'd let myself believe in the legend built up around Queen Kouris, yet the woman sat next to me wasn't parchment and ink, wasn't a rushed whisper. I wrapped my arms around one of hers and she was all flesh and blood. She bowed her head, kissing my hairline, and she was warm.

“I should get back to Kyrindval,” I told her. “Queen Kidira wants to return to Isin.”

I gripped one of Kouris' horns, ensuring I didn't slip as I got to my feet. I went first through the tunnel, and on the other side, scrambled onto Kouris' back when she knelt in front of me. She near enough walked down the rock face I'd struggled to climb; her clawed toes hooked into the crags, and she barely had to use her arms for balance.

I remained on her back until Kyrindval was in sight. I was just in time: Queen Kidira was making ready to leave, along with Akela and Claire. Kouris lowered me to the ground, waiting a short distance away as I jogged over to the pane who'd gathered to see us off.

“You left this behind,” Claire said, holding my helm out to me. She wasn't particularly short with me, nor did she avoid looking at me. “We're waiting on your brother.”

The pane were eager to offer us all sorts of supplies for our journey back, none of which Queen Kidira considered politely declining. She gestured for all that was brought to us to be handed over to Akela, who was holding a mountain of meat, fruit and bread in her arms.

“My Queen, I am thinking, too much they are liking you!” she grumbled through a grin, whistling out a
phew
when Claire held one of our empty bags open.

There was no sign of Michael. Queen Kidira fixed her eyes on me as though I was to blame for his tardiness, and I told myself that she was only staring at me because her only other option was to look Kouris' way. Claire looked back into Kyrindval, frowning, and the pane were in danger of running out of parting pleasantries.

Queen Kidira was on the verge of opening her mouth to say something when Michael came running over. He skidded to a stop in front of Claire, saying, “I know, I know, I'm running late! But I was thinking: I can't leave yet.”

“What do you mean you can't leave yet?” I asked.

Michael's shoulders rose, irritated by the interruption, and he proceeded to talk to Claire, as though she'd been the one to ask the question.

“I feel as though I'm finally doing something—or as if I
could
finally be doing something. There's so much for me to learn here. I could write something of
importance
, rather than spend my life echoing other people's stories,” he said, “I've found a few pane willing to take me in. They're a very generous people, you know.”

“I'm not certain I can simply leave you here,” Claire replied, though she looked as though she was considering it.

“It won't be forever. Queen Kidira, Your Majesty, I believe a few representatives will be heading to Isin in the near future...?” Queen Kidira didn't answer him, and he went on speaking regardless. “I'll come back with them. Have them take me straight to the castle. What do you say, Sir?”

My brother started projects and abandoned them as quickly as he found something new to move onto, and for all that he'd learnt and all that he'd tried to teach me, I'd never seen him
care
about something so much.

Claire turned to me. “Rowan?” she asked, giving me the final say.

If we made him come back to Isin, we'd never hear the end of it.

Michael scoffed at the notion of his fate being in my hands, and I said, “We'd have to drag you back, wouldn't we?”

It was decided. Michael beamed, thanking Claire heartily, shaking her hand and telling her how he'd never have got this far, if not for her. He threw an arm around my shoulders and shoved his bag into my arms, saying, “I probably ought not to have taken these—see that they get back to the castle, won't you? And keep out of trouble, Rowan. You aren't going to have me to watch your back for a while, you know.”

I slung the bag over my shoulder, and slipped my helm into it, alongside the books he'd pilfered.

He waved us off, and I wound my way back down the mountain for the second time that day, wishing I'd just stayed with the horses. Patrick whinnied when we left him behind, clomping his hooves against the ground as a pane who'd accompanied us down tried to lead him up to Kyrindval. It took some kind words from the pane, but Patrick reluctantly followed him around a second path.

Queen Kidira and Akela's horses were brought down the same way.

“There's another way up?” I asked Kouris in a whisper.

“That there is. Much easier for the horses—takes a few more hours, though,” she replied in a low voice, lest Queen Kidira overhear her.

On the way down the mountain, Kouris took the lead. She was always in Queen Kidira's sight, but they both acted as though the other was a ghost; as though only they could see each other, and so were unable to acknowledge one another, for fear of how it would seem to us.

The journey back to Isin was going to be a long one.

Over the days that followed, we didn't always move as a group, though we were never more than half a mile apart. I stuck close to Kouris' heels and Claire drifted between us and Queen Kidira and Akela, intent on watching over us all. The further south we travelled the warmer it became, but Claire's face darkened as though we were charging into storm clouds.

“Being in Kyrindval is like being in another world,” she told me one evening over dinner. I understood the implication behind her words, and couldn't pretend to be happy about all we were to leave behind. I spent that night by Kouris' side, not saying anything, staring out into the darkness.

Between Claire returning to reality and Queen Kidira and Kouris making it impossible for the five of us to slip into conversation, comfortable or otherwise, I couldn't wait to be back in Isin, locked away in the castle. Akela made a few failed attempts to rope me into conversation, and while we sat in silence, she would idly remark about the weather or the sunset to Queen Kidira, who never answered but always listened.

Restless, Kouris took the books from my bag and scrutinised the covers.

“Hm—
The Complete History of Kastelir
,” she said to herself, because talking to no one in particular around the fire seemed to be permitted. “Let's see what I missed out on.”

I hoped she'd read out loud, but had only the remnants of my dinner for entertainment. Isin was three days over the horizon, and I found myself envious of Michael. Perhaps I would've been wise to stay behind with him.

“Hmph. I'm three pages in, and already I'm finding a mistake,” Kouris muttered to herself.

Not wanting to leave the words hanging awkwardly in the air, Claire asked, “What is it?”

Kouris cleared her throat, scanned over the paragraph once more, and read aloud from a page towards the end of the book.

“...
and on the twenty-fifth anniversary of Kastelir's founding, a memorial service was led by Kouris—
yet I'd been gone for twenty-two years, by that point.”

Claire hummed, unable to offer her an explanation, and Akela cleared her throat on the other side of the fire. We all looked at her, but it was Queen Kidira who spoke.

“There is no mistake,” she said plainly. “Kouris is the name of my daughter.”

The fire crackled, wood twisting with heat. Queen Kidira stared straight through the flames, daring Kouris to blink. All she could do was snap the book shut in her hand. I couldn't bring myself to look at her, but I heard her shift uncomfortably, cracking her knuckles, searching for
something
to say. She stood, eventually, slinking soundlessly into the shadows.

I should've gone to her, of course I should've, but I hesitated and lost my chance. Claire followed her, and when I dared to glance back, I saw that she'd placed a hand on Kouris' shoulder and was offering her more words than I could've thought to.

“She ought to be back from Thule by now,” Queen Kidira said to Akela. “Do you know what date she was due to arrive?”

“Ah—Lady Kouris, she is returning home three days before we are leaving Isin,” Akela explained. “But you are very busy, yes, so it is not surprising when you are not running into her.”

Queen Kidira poked her empty bowl with her fork.

“I do not trust them. For thirty years they hide behind their wall, intent on ignoring our existence, and suddenly, they wish to marry my daughter off to some
Prince
,” Queen Kidira said, as though there were none so despicable in all of society. “I would not abide it, but—do you think she seems happy?”

“Very much so, yes! Every time she is returning or reading a letter, she is always beaming. If they are planning something, then I am going over and sticking my axe in their heads, yes?”

Queen Kidira stopped staring down at her hands, tilting her head to look at Akela.

“Indeed.”

A merchant passed us, a day from the city, and we bought a wheel of cheese for the sake of getting rid of him. The roads became busier and there were fewer overgrown paths to take, but we often went for hours without coming across another person.

I saw hints of the city on the horizon under the early morning light, and for the first time in a week, found myself almost smiling. I soon thought better of it. The trip back from Kyrindval had not been a comfortable one, and I felt that the pull of Isin was dragging us all down, spirits dulled by what would unfold once we reached the capital. Not knowing what to expect, or why Claire had been forced to flee through Kastelir, did nothing to keep an ebbing sense of dread at bay.

I rode ahead, a short distance behind Kouris, and saw a figure in the distance. A man on horseback charged along the path, draped in a cloak. As unseasonable as it was, it wasn't a cause for alarm, in and of itself. He galloped straight past Kouris, having no reason to look twice, and I made ready to nod my head politely, should he wish me a good morning.

I caught his eye as he charged along the road. The wind blew back his hood and there was no mistaking who it was.

Sir Luxon rushed straight past me.

A second later, his horse came to a clamouring stop. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him tug on the horse's reins, staring right at me. I tried to keep moving, but his ivory horse blocked my path; there was no pretending that I hadn't recognised him, no rushing off and luring him away from Claire.

“You!” Luxon's voice was loud, authoritative, exhaustion mixed with relief. “Where's Ightham? Didn't get bored of you already, did she?”

Kouris' ears didn't fail her. She skidded to a halt and made her way over, slowly enough that Luxon was content to keep his eyes on me.
Yes—!
I wanted to say,
She went on without me, headed to Agados.
I knew it was futile, but I wanted to say something,
anything
, that would let Claire know I had tried to protect her.

Dragon-bone armour gleamed beneath his collar. Sir Luxon had gone back on his word.

“I—”

“
Well
?” he snapped.

“Is there a problem here?” Kouris asked, approaching.

“Stay out of this, pane,” he said, trying to wave her off like a persistent insect. Any momentary irritation was soon quelled by the sight of Claire in the distance. Akela and Queen Kidira were too far behind to be seen, but even in the face of being out numbered three-to-one, Sir Luxon was utterly ecstatic.

Jittery, almost.

“Ightham!” he roared when she galloped up to us, “Ightham, do you have any idea how long it's taken me to find you? I've shown your face to half the poor sods in this hell-hole of a Kingdom.”

Claire met him with a hard stare, and I inched back as Calais stepped between my horse and Luxon's.

“I thought you were returning to Thule to take on a new role,” Claire said dryly.

“Here's the thing—when it became official that you'd bolted, the King decided that you couldn't just roam around, running your mouth,” Luxon said, making a mess of his horse's mane with one hand. “Come back. Come back and this will all be forgiven.”

“You wish for me to return with you? What of your own ascent through the ranks?”

“I'm asking nicely, but I'll only ask once—for old times' sake.”

Claire was bemused by the existence of these
old times
, and did little but regard Luxon with a mix of scepticism and pity.

“And should I refuse?”

Sir Luxon opened his cloak, rapping a gloved fist against his dragon-bone breastplate.

Kouris grunted, unimpressed, and Claire merely sighed. Luxon chuckled, having convinced himself that Claire's terror was real, no matter how deeply buried, and I concluded that I must've been panicking for the three of us. It didn't matter if Claire was better with her blade than Luxon; his sword was carved from dragon-bone, and she'd never be able to break through his armour.

“I am not returning to Thule, Luxon. Nor do I have any intention of letting you drag my corpse back,” Claire told him. “You do realise that this was never going to end well for you, don't you? You are aware of what's happening here—and that you'd never be offered the position I was, even if you took my head back to the King.
Especially
if you took my head back to the King.”

Luxon hummed, dismounting his horse and letting his cloak fall to the ground. His armour was different to Claire's, heavier looking, with curved spikes jutting from the elbows and scales worked into the greaves.

“Need any help with this one?” Kouris offered, and Luxon scoffed.

“Like the pane have figured out how to defend themselves yet,” he said to Claire. No wonder he didn't feel threatened; he thought Kouris was a creature of peace, like the rest of her kind. “Come then, Ightham. Don't give up all you have. The leniency you've been afforded is
tremendous—
after your last little episode, I would've thought you'd be kept on a very short leash indeed. Yet here we are! Throwing it all away. I tell you, Ightham, I'll happily take all that you've been offered.”