Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (38 page)

King Jonas fixed his eyes on mine and his advisers followed his gaze, brows furrowing at the sight of me. I thought I should apologise for daring to stand within eye shot of the King, but he rushed forward, forest-green cloak billowing behind him.

“Rowan! Goodness, I heard about the trouble on your return journey,” he said, taking one of my hands between both of his. “I'm glad to see you safe. Never before have we experienced a problem of the sort on the way to or from Kyrindval, I assure you.”

“I, um...”

His greeting was a world away from King Atthis', and I began to understand how the rulers of Kastelir balanced each other out. King Jonas was genuine in his concern, having no one other than disgruntled advisers to put on a show for, and all I could think was that I'd been entrusted to return the books Michael had borrowed without permission, but had no idea where my bag was.

“No one saw it coming,” I settled on.

Most of those gathered around scattered, attending to their own business when it didn't seem as though our conversation would lead to anything of interest.

“Kouris tells me you're to join us in discussing matters today,” he said, voice flitting from one serious tone to another. “Terrible business, that, but I'm convinced a solution can be reached.”

King Jonas spoke as though I knew exactly what was going on, and I nodded mutely, not wishing to contradict him.

“I was trying to find the meeting hall actually, Your Highness,” I said for the sake of saying something, “Could you point me in the right direction?”

“I can do better than that, dear,” he said cheerfully, turning on his heels and taking wide, brisk strides down the corridor.

“Your Highness, I, it's fine, honestly—” I said, hurrying after him. “I'll be able to find my way! You don't have to take me all the way there.”

“Nonsense! I've plenty of time before I'm due anywhere, Rowan. Besides, it saves me from having to deal with yet more poignant advice and endless account books.”

There was no telling a King to stop. I dared to walk by his side, far from oblivious to the looks I was drawing, the sudden curiosity sparking in the faces of those we passed. The clean clothes did nothing to mask the fact that I was but a farmer, sorely out of place amongst the nobility who spent hours styling and restyling their hair, swapping silver chains out for gold ones until they found something that matched their carefully chosen outfits.

“Have you seen much of the city?” King Jonas asked, and because he sounded sincerely interested, I let myself answer him properly.

“Not much, You Highness. Only what I passed on the way in and out—although yesterday, I think there might've been some sort of problem. People were shouting, and not in the way they usually do at market. Or after too many drinks.”

The last part earnt a laugh from him, and he said, “Ah, yes. Kastelir is still young, still teething. Isin deals with the brunt of it, I'm afraid. It's nothing that won't blow over in a day or two, if that.”

I took him at his word, focused on remembering the path there. It was either three lefts and then a right, or two lefts and two rights; regardless, I had to pass under an archway with a bear carved into one of the columns, and then down a corridor lined with paintings of Kastelir's landscapes.

Our destination was a great courtyard – the largest in the castle, I expected, and probably at its very centre – littered with stone benches and finely crafted topiary. A dragon arched its back in one corner, opposite a stag with antlers rivalling its wingspan, while a bear and tiger claimed the other two corners for their own.

“Thank you for the company, Rowan,” King Jonas said, patting me on my shoulder, pointing to the hefty looking doors we were to meet behind later. “This is where I leave you, I'm afraid. Still, I shan't be gone for long.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. You really didn't have to.”

But King Jonas thought nothing of it. He left with a nod of his head, leaving me bowing awkwardly. The scholars taking advantage of the clear weather were too busy reading and writing and frowning to notice me, and all of the gardeners were similarly occupied. Anyone else who wasted their time gawking at me likely would've done so had I executed history's single most perfect bow. I paid no heed to any imagined stares.

It was surreal. I'd come this far, from my tiny cage of a prison, all the way through Kastelir, to the mountains and back, and a King remembered my name. A King spoke with me, walked with me. It wouldn't seem real until it was all over. Until I was back in my kitchen, telling my father about all the things I could never get across in a letter.

I went to sit, deciding that there was no rule against claiming a bench for my own, when Akela caught my eye from across the courtyard. Yesterday's events had done nothing to stop her from smiling enough for the whole castle, but the sight of her must've triggered something within me. Either that, or eating so much for breakfast had been unwise: I was light-headed enough to be compelled to step into the shade, and a strange, sickly feeling spread out from my stomach.

Akela wasn't alone. There was a noblewoman by her side, wearing a light-blue dress with such intricate patterns embroidered on it in darker thread that mapping them out would've caused my head to spin all the more. From a first glance, she was a few years older than I was, if that, tall, and very slender. Her sandy-blond hair was tucked behind her ears, top layer worked into two braids, and the fact that she was smiling came as no surprise.

It was hard not to, in Akela's company.

“You must be Rowan! Goodness, it's nice to meet you,” she said brightly, offering me her hand.

I took it, but she saw the confusion creased into my features. Some part of me wanted to explain that I suddenly wasn't feeling well, but her eyes widened, and I couldn't stand to interrupt her before she could explain herself.

“Gosh, I'm sorry. It was awfully rude of me to accost you like that. Especially when I have you at such an disadvantage! It's just that the Commander here was telling me all about our Felheimish guests, and, well, you don't
quite
match the description of Sir Ightham, or—” the woman paused, lowering her voice, “Queen Kouris, which left me with but one guess.”

Belatedly realising she was still shaking my hand, she let go, and Akela pointedly cleared her throat.

“Oh! You'll have to forgive me. It seems I've misplaced my manners today. My name is Kouris. It's a pleasure to meet you, dear.”

“Oh, you're—” I began, making more of a mess of bowing than before, if such a thing were possible. “It's nice to meet you, Your Highness.”

Akela and Kouris – the human Kouris – glanced at one another, bemused, and Kouris broke out into laughter much softer than Akela's.

“No, no. My, we aren't
quite
so similar to Felheim, dear. My mother might be a Queen, but that doesn't make me a Princess, or anything of the sort,” Kouris said, apparently charmed by my blunder. “Our rulers are voted onto the throne. That was the theoretical basis for Kastelir, at least, but my mother and uncles always find reasons to extend their reign indefinitely, and... ah, no, you aren't concerned with that. My point is, just Kouris will do. Lady Kouris, officially, but that's rather formal, don't you think?”

“Then it's nice to meet you... Kouris?” I tried.

She frowned, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Yes, I do see how that would be bizarre for you. Goodness, I'm usually the first and only Kouris people have ever met. This is new for me, as well.” She paused, humming thoughtfully. “How's this: my middle-name is Katja. I believe the woman who gave birth to me insisted that my mother keep it as some part of my name, though my mother never did bother giving me too many sentimental details. I shouldn't imagine that I'd be adverse to you calling me that, should you wish. What do you think?”

“It's a nice name,” I said, feeling a lot better. The sickness was still there, but it was pushed down by good company.

“I'm glad you think so! I do so apologise if I don't respond to it immediately—it's nothing against you, dear, trust me,” she went on to say. “Oh! Yes, I wanted to ask if you lived anywhere near Thule. I was just there visiting my fiancé, you see, and wondered if you might be familiar with the area.”

Had I been born in Thule, there was no way I'd so much as recognise the places Katja had been. Akela might've told her my name, might've described what I looked like, but Katja had yet to grasp my station.

“I'm from the south of Felheim, not far from the coast. Praxis is the closest I've been to Thule, and that was only a few months ago,” I explained.

Katja seemed a little disappointed by the news, but it soon dawned on her that it'd be far more interesting to talk to me about places she'd never been.

“I'm certain you're more than a little busy at the moment, goodness knows we all are, but might I trouble you for your company, some time? I'd love to know more about Felheim—especially if I'm to marry a Felheimer! It only seems smart, don't you think? Sadly, we've had little contact with your Kingdom. This whole marriage situation is taking everyone by surprise. Me most of all.”

I felt oddly qualified to answer any questions she might have, already able to predict what they might be. Had I ever seen a dragon? How often had my village been attacked? Did we have many pane? How many Knights had I met, other than Sir Ightham? What did the Felheimish think of Kastelirians?

Katja had a light, easy way about her, and I found myself readily agreeing.

“It wouldn't be any trouble at all, if you don't mind hearing a lot about farms and sheep, because that's all I really know,” I said, and Katja laughed under her breath, uncertain whether I was joking or not.

“This is where I leave you, Commander,” she said to Akela, who bowed deeply, “Do ask my mother to stop by my chambers this evening, should she get a chance to.”

Katja reiterated that it was nice to have met me and made herself scarce, heading towards a group of wealthy scholars, none of whom were dressed half as nicely as she was. Akela rocked on the balls of her feet, watching her go, and dropped herself off on a bench, half covered by the shadow of a leafy bear.

The sickness subsided as soon as I was off my feet and in the shade, and Akela fiddled with the cuffs of her armour as she hummed under her breath. Distracted though she was, Akela did a commendable job of remaining as upbeat as she'd always been, when the an wasn't in her hand. I'd little doubt that she was occupied with thoughts revolving around the upcoming meeting, and in order to take both of our minds off it, I glanced around for something to talk about.

Akela was still in her armour, though not officially on duty, judging by the way she was idling in the courtyard. It was all brown leather plates over dark blue mesh and chains, proudly displaying scuffs and scratches across it. It was far more beaten than anything any of the guards wore, bearing three red stripes on the left shoulder.

“What does this mean?” I asked, tapping the stripes. “I've not seen them on the guards' uniforms.”

“Hah! I should not be thinking so—these stripes, these are only for those who are
fighting
, yes? Not just standing in the castle, holding spear, becoming part of the furniture,” Akela said, eager to indulge me. “The colours, they are ferocity! Well, Their Highness, they are saying they are for rank, and I am saying, this is the same thing, yes? Grey for the footman, yellow for the lieutenants, orange for captains – I am missing some, I am not remembering every rank – and for me, because I am the Commander –
The
Commander, with the big
t
, you are hearing this? – I am wearing red.

“Ah, and the stripes. They are time. Three years, six, nine—in only two more years, I am getting another. Impressive, yes?”

I'd met no shortage of impressive people since leaving my village, but that did nothing to render Akela's accomplishments any less remarkable. In all of Michael's stories, the leaders of mighty armies had been—well,
older
than Akela appeared to be. She was around the same age as Claire, though she had more wear to show for the years, and I understood Claire being a Knight at her age. There were no ranks to climb; either you had what it took to slay dragons or you didn't.

“Is it usual to rise through the ranks that quickly?” I asked, once I'd found the right way to phrase my question.

“Not at all!” Akela declared. Apparently, it was a source of pride for her. “The last Commander, she is working for King Jonas for eighteen years before finally, she is the new Commander. But you are wanting to know my secret, yes? Queen Kidira, she is liking me very much.”

Through some intervention of the gods who had abandoned us, I managed to stop myself from saying
Does Queen Kidira actually like anyone?

“No, no. I am joking, only joking. Mostly. Actually, many years ago, on the battlefield, I am saving King Atthis' son. Now, this boy, he is excellent with the strategies, but he is no warrior—and I, I am getting the chance to illustrate how good I am! So the King, he is getting his son back, he is in one piece, and I am getting promoted. Everyone is happy.

“Except the man I am defeating. He is having an axe between his eyes and not laughing about it at all.”

No matter how macabre the topic, Akela manage to force a breathy laugh out of me. I could see her thriving on the battlefield, lifting her troops' spirits without shying away from the reality of things, always fighting at the front, in the thick of the action. It was almost as though she'd been born a few decades too late, what with the Territory Wars long over.

“Wait. You saved King Atthis' son from
who
?” I asked, swivelling on the bench to face her.

“Hm?”

“You said you saved King Atthis' son in a battle—but Kastelir hasn't attacked Felheim,
ever,
and I don't think Agados is big enough to wage war on a Kingdom like this one. I'd never heard of it before! So who were you fighting?”

“Ah, you are knowing how it is. Sometimes, we are having pirates from Canth sail up, and they are taking whatever it is they are wanting from the ports. And Kastelir, it is only a young country. We are still having problems – well, I am thinking Felheim is still having problems, yes? – and some, they are wishing that the territories would return, because they are not happy unless they are fighting. Sometimes, there are problems,” Akela said, concluding her point with a shrug.