Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (36 page)

“Ah. Your Highness?” Akela began. She cleared her throat, standing straighter, not as easy around King Atthis as she was around the Queen. She was far from timid; simply more formal. “Ightham, the Knight—where is she now?”

King Atthis took a handkerchief from one of the desk drawers and used it to safely grip the edge of the armour, rummaging through the bags as though they held Luxon's bones themselves.

“Back in her chamber, I expect,” he said after a moment's consideration. “Ask Ocari where they housed her. Go, go. You're dismissed, Commander.”

Back in her chamber.

Claire was back in her chamber, which meant she was safe. She was
alive.

The news didn't wear away at the tension in my body as it should've, and wouldn't, not until I'd seen Claire for myself. Akela backed out of the room with a brief, practised bow, and King Atthis was too busy inspecting the armour to see me make a mess of doing the same.

“What am I telling you?” Akela said, door swinging shut behind her. She patted me on the shoulder, steering me down the corridor in search of Ocari. “Ightham, she is fine. Back in her chamber, yes. Maybe she is taking a bath!”

I smiled at the thought while Akela was looking at me, and it didn't take us long to find Ocari. They were the head of the castle's staff, responsible for housing guests, and never not busy. Akela and I stuck close to their heels as they marched from the servants' living quarters to one of the pantries, checking off this-and-that from a list, issuing orders as they answered our questions.

“Our Felheimish guest? Sure, I remember her. Had to send out a team to scrub down one of the bridges, and who knows if we'll ever get the stains out of the carpet. Sent her up a fresh set of clothing a few minutes back,” Ocari told us, seemingly more aware of what was happening within the castle than King Atthis himself. “I assigned her to the golden chamber, over in the northern wing. There'll be no mercy for whoever's moved her if she's not still there, though.”

Akela clapped her hands together, grinning as she bowed her head.

“Ocari, always, you are most helpful! Without you, this castle, it is a zoo.”

Ocari rolled their eyes, nudging Akela in the side.

“Get out of here, you. I've still got plenty of work to do.”

From the amount of waves and bashful smiles Akela garnered on her way through the castle, there was no doubt that she was well-liked. She moved through the castle freely, taking countless sharp turns and narrow passageways, never once having to pause to get her bearings.

The corridor boasting Claire's chamber was far more polished than the one mine and Michael's room rested along. It was placed on the third or fourth floor – I'd lost track of the stairs after our second stint upwards – and one wall was dedicated to stained glass windows in shades of blue, drinking in the sight of Isin sprawling towards the hills. Once I was at the door of Claire's room, I couldn't bring myself to appreciate the portraits lining corridor, let alone knock.

She wouldn't want to see me. She'd pushed me away because she knew what I was, what I was capable of; the fact that I was a necromancer had abruptly become a stark reality, one that she could no longer resign to the back of her mind.

I didn't move. Akela frowned, reaching up to knock for me.

“If you are needing anything, anything at all, you are telling any of these guards, and they are finding me. Yes?” Akela said, leaving me to face the consequences.

From within the chamber, a voice said, “Come in.”

Claire's voice. She was alive, she was safe, able to speak—albeit bluntly. That's all I needed to know, all I'd come for.

Yet it wasn't enough.

I pushed the door open. Claire's chamber was far bigger than the one I'd stayed in, complete with a room leading off it, but the details were lost to me. My eyes fell on Claire and remained there; Claire, draped in a fresh, white shirt, without a trace of red or pain anywhere on her. A bottle of wine sat on the table next to her armchair, barely touched, and Claire rose to her feet at the sight of me.

I couldn't account for what I was seeing. Couldn't find any correlation between this Claire, whole and safe, and the Claire who'd fallen to her knees, gripping her wounds and sucking panicked breaths through her bloodied teeth. I couldn't accept what had happened, because a power that wasn't mine had been evoked; a power I didn't trust to save her, but had.

“—oh, dammit,” I mumbled, wiping the corner of my eye with the heel of my palm.

I'd given myself a headache gritting my teeth, and didn't realise my shoulders were shaking until Claire placed her hands on them. I looked up at her, eyes wide and searching, but couldn't find a hint of what I'd seen in her eyes earlier. She was just Claire once more. She was looking at me, seeing
me
, not tempted in the least to avert her gaze.

I pressed my hand to her stomach, through the thin cotton of her shirt, finding her skin smooth and unscathed when I curled my fingers towards her.

“I thought—” The words rose up thick and fast, and I breathed deeply, trying to suppress them. “That the healers might not have been quick enough, or...”

“I'm fine, Rowan,” Claire said softly, moving one of her hands to the side of my neck, thumb brushing against the edge of my jaw.

“I'm a
necromancer
, Claire. I'm not supposed to be scared of death, of people dying.
You
are. You should be scared of death—not of
me
,” I blurted out, and all the anger I was convinced would boil over, allowing me to snap at Claire, seeped deeper and deeper into my bones.

I was the only one it stung.

Claire pulled me closer and I wrapped my arms tightly around her waist, face buried against her collarbone. I had thought Claire to be calm, but her heart bruised the inside of her ribs, breath coming heavily. She was only quiet and composed, nothing more. How pathetic it was that she'd been gut like a fish and I was the one taking comfort from her.

“I was not scared of you,” she said, pressing her nose to the top of my head. “I was scared
for
you. I have told you before that you cannot afford to use your powers, no matter the circumstances.”

“I could've—could've closed the wound before they saw. Could've said I was a healer...”

“It wouldn't have worked, Rowan. Say you did manage to fool Queen Kidira—what then? She would have you work as a healer within the castle, amongst
real
healers. Do you think they would remain oblivious for long? You know Kastelir's rules. They would take you, Rowan, and they would burn you.”

Her hold tightened as she spoke, as though there had been space between us, and I saw that I had been truly cruel. Claire had been scared, and I did her a disservice, when all she wished to do was protect me. And at such a cost. I should've done more than freeze up when my necromancy was forced back. I should've acted as Kouris and Akela had, should've gripped her hand and told her she was going to be alright.

It was selfish, I knew it was, but I was relieved to have her in my arms. I wished I could've been happy about it, as well, for as close as we were, it was blood that had brought us together.

I inched back, looking up at her, wanting to voice everything that I was feeling more than thinking, but all I could say was, “You could've
died
.”

“I know,” she told me, hand on my cheek. “But I took my chances, and I am fine.”

Had she died, I wouldn't have let her stay that way. I would've ripped death from her so cleanly that it would shudder at the thought of ever returning, consequences be damned. They could place me in irons, they could tie me to the stake, but I would've found a way to escape. And though I was foolish enough to believe it in that moment, I wasn't foolish enough to say it out loud.

I kissed Claire, this time. My fists bundled against the collar of her shirt and I pulled her close, and the moment I pressed my mouth to hers, I
knew
it had happened before, knew that it had been real. She didn't just let me kiss her. She returned the kiss in earnest, hands on the small of my back, and without breaking away, I mumbled, “I need to know what's happening, Claire,” against her lips.

She pressed her forehead to mine, nodding and nodding, cupping my cheeks with both hands as she kissed me again.

I waited for the truth to spill out of her, but was met with nothing but a knock at the door.

Claire let out a frustrated breath that brushed across my face and stepped back, calling out, “It's open.”

She regained her composure in a second, but I was flustered, scratching the back of my neck and doing what I could to fade into the background.

It wasn't anyone I recognised. A guard nodded in greeting and said, “Their Highnesses require your presence immediately.”

Queen Kidira clearly hadn't wasted any time in imploring them to hear Claire out once more. Claire didn't delay. She saw her chance and seized it, following the guard out with little more than a tilt of her head in my direction.

I was left with her dragon-bone armour for company, propped up on display, cold and empty.

I corked the wine, but found little more in the way of distracting myself. Head buzzing, I braved the castle alone, having no real destination in mind. I wanted to find Kouris, but she may well have been with Claire, and I didn't dare to ask any of the guards or servants where she was. I had no idea who knew she actually
was
Kouris, and I didn't want to ask where this-or-that pane was, lest I accidentally say something that revealed too much.

The castle was home to hundreds, and the spiralling staircases I took downwards led to endless kitchens and pantries, cellars full of wine barrels, bottles kept locked behind bars. I wandered through the castle, expecting to be stopped at every turn, but the servants were too busy to notice me, and the guards took me for a servant. Not wanting to push my luck, I took whatever corridor or staircase was closest when the way ahead was starting to look particularly busy.

I rushed through music rooms that could've swallowed my entire house, avoided trampling rugs crafted with more care than Claire's armour, boots caked with dirt and blood from the trip to Kyrindval, and found Kouris in a courtyard.

A pond rested in the very centre, surrounded by stone tigers snarling at the water, and lords and ladies and lieges wandered amongst the orange daylilies and black dahlias planted in neat rows. Most of them turned on their heels upon spotting a pane, promptly remembering they had other matters to attend to.

I approached from a balcony, a level up, and leant against the stone railing until Kouris noticed me. Her ears perked up and she came over, looking up at me, for once. It was clear enough that I'd already found Claire and she smiled, holding her arms up.

“You want me to jump?” I asked, lifting my brow. “I'm sure there's a safer way down.”

“Aye, but finding the right staircase could take
minutes
,” Kouris pointed out. “It's hardly a mountain you're leaping down, now is it?”

A number of the nobles who'd steered clear of Kouris stopped to watch from the columns surrounding the courtyard, and I didn't hesitate a moment longer. I swung a leg over the stone railing, sat on the edge, and carefully pushed myself off, into Kouris' arms. She caught me with a playful
oof
, giving me a squeeze before setting me down.

“Thank you,” I said, taking her hand and leading her to the pond. “For getting Claire back here in time. I don't think any of the horses could've managed it.”

“She's a tough one, she is,” Kouris said, sitting next to me on the edge of the pond. “I'm not doubting the fact that the dragon-slayer's seen much worse than all that. Shame about Luxon, though. Reckon we could've learnt a thing or two from him. Akela tells me that's all taken care of?”

“Yeah, it's... it's been taken care of,” I agreed.

I trailed my fingers through the clear water, watching the koi scatter, and leant back against one of the stone tigers. Kouris watched me out of the corner of her eye but said nothing, giving me time to reflect on how exhausted I was. I closed my eyes, listening to the din of the castle beyond, and decided that the next time I stood, it would be to drift back to my bed.

Luxon was gone and Claire was safe, and I was on the verge of finding out what this was all about. I ought to have felt settled, but there was something bothering me, something I knew was there, no matter how I forced it into my blind spot.

“What's on your mind, yrval?” Kouris enquired.

I opened one eye, intent on shaking my head and telling her that I was just tired, but curiosity got the better of me.

I leant forward, feet rested on the edge of the pond, and said, “I could've saved her. Right there. I could've saved Luxon, too.”

Kouris hummed, slowly nodding her head. It wasn't as though there was anything to disagree with.

“You say that nobody cares about this sort of thing in Canth. That it's a
good
thing. So why? Why aren't I allowed to help people?”

Even as I spoke, I knew it wasn't as simple as all that. I just wanted to know
why
it had become so complicated.

“Now, in Canth, they have a lot of problems. The new Queen, she's a good one, but she's still dealing with a country full of pirates and poverty—but one problem they've never had, well. There was never a war down there, yrval. Oh, there was and is fighting amongst the humans, that's for certain, but never anything with necromancers,” Kouris explained. “They call us heathens. Reckon we never should've abandoned our gods. And necromancers, they're considered Isjin's own. Sons or Daughters or Children of Isjin, they're called. The people in Canth, they never suffered quite like your ancestors did. They've never had the time to build up ignorance. Or fear, for that matter.”

I'd never heard anything of the sort before, not even from the dustiest of Michael's tomes. What I knew of Isjin was limited to the tales told during Phoenix Festival, and most of that revolved around how much better off we were without her. The suggestion that she held some sort of fondness for necromancers did not sit well with me; where had she been when I'd needed to believe I was something other than a host for twisted magic?