Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (43 page)

“Kouris,” Claire said, “Kouris, I am sorry.”

“Weeks. I'm back here for
weeks
,” came Kouris' rumble of a reply, “And look what's happening. Should've never come back.”

“This has
nothing
to do with your return, Kouris. Do not blame yourself. It's good that you were here, in the weeks before his death.”

“Before his murder,” Kouris said, but she said it without any bite, as though Claire's words had been of some small comfort to her. “... always got the feeling Jonas would be outliving all of us. Even me. He always had everything sorted, even back before Kastelir was founded. The Old West, it was the closest thing to a functioning territory in its own right, and now... killed in his own castle. So much for any of that meaning a damn thing.”

Kouris stopped thrashing and growling, but I didn't put my arms around her, didn't offer any condolences. The way Claire and Kouris spoke to one another and the looks they shared put me beyond their understanding of the situation. The finality of their every word was misplaced, and the permanence with which they spoke was lost on me.

King Jonas was dead, but he didn't have to stay that way. It'd take a thought, only a thought, and I could drive death from him, as if striking a bargain I'd never have to fulfil. Under my breath, I murmured, “I could—” not meaning to be heard. Needing to remind myself of my power, more than anything.

Kouris and Claire turned, towering over me. I stepped back, bumping into the table, and they stared at me as though it was too late. I began to wonder if there was light crackling between my fingers, if King Jonas had risen in the corridors beyond.

“No,” Claire said bluntly. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” I protested. “I could bring him back! It wouldn't even be
hard
. I could bring him back and Kouris wouldn't have to be upset. And neither would King Atthis or Queen Kidira or Akela, or the rest of the country! We'd be able to ask King Jonas who killed him, and there'd be no worrying about what would happen to Kastelir, or who was going to take over, and...”

“
No
,” Kouris said. “Your heart's in the right place, yrval, it really is, but you're only going to be causing more problems than you're fixing. I want to see Jonas up on his feet, I truly do, but it's not going to be so easy as all that. There'll be no use in it all if we're only trading his life for yours.”

Trading my life for his. Did Kouris really believe that Queen Kidira would look upon what I'd done and demand I burn for it, even if King Jonas was returned to her?

“News of King Jonas' assassination won't remain contained to the castle. If half of Isin doesn't already know, then they will within minutes,” Claire continued. They were both adamant, talking down to me as though I didn't understand the consequences of my own powers. “Dozens have seen the body, and healers would've tried all they could to save him. There would be no doing this without anyone finding out, Rowan. Do you believe that Kastelir would accept a King raised from the dead? If Queen Kidira did not call for your capture, Kastelir would.”

Kouris narrowed her gaze at Claire, but as hard as her words were, they still didn't reach me. So what if they felt justified in King Jonas' continued death; so what if they were only trying to protect me? The fact remained that there was an easy solution to the problem presented, and they were both acting as though keeping me locked away was the only thing for it.

I looked at Claire, and then at the ground.

“But you said...”

She sucked in a deep breath, jaw clamped shut in Kouris' presence. Kouris' gaze shot between me and Claire, and bemusement gave way to understanding. Taking a wide step back, she gave Claire the space to draw closer. She tried to catch my eye, but my gaze slid back and forth like a pendulum whenever she moved.

“... as a last resort, Rowan. There is no need to put yourself in that sort of danger, unless there is absolutely nothing more we can do,” Claire said in a low voice, hand on my face. Still, I looked away from her. “Please, Rowan. Don't throw away all you've earnt for yourself since leaving your village. Let the King remain dead.”

I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, keeping hold of it when I only meant to move her hand away. The way they pleaded convinced me that my powers were beyond my control, and that even if I wanted to ensure King Jonas stayed dead, he'd rise up by virtue of me
knowing
he'd been murdered. My shoulders rose and I let go of Claire's wrist, clasping my hands together in an attempt to hold
something
back.

“Right. You're right, I won't do anything,” I said, knowing I couldn't ask Claire to leave Kastelir behind, now that she'd come this far. “I'm sorry. It's just not
fair
, and I wanted to be able to help, for once. I didn't speak to King Jonas very much, but he was really nice to me when he didn't have to be. Didn't even have to look at me.”

Claire gave me a smile that made me believe I'd be able to rein my powers in, no matter what, and dropped her hand as Kouris returned to the conversation. She stood before me for one reason, and one reason alone: because necromancy had saved her. Kouris understood why I wanted to bring King Jonas back. She didn't scorn necromancy in and of itself, but since returning to Asar, she'd told only me the truth, and for good reason.

They might think more of her in Canth, for having been brought back by a necromancer, but in Kastelir, they'd treat her like a shadow of herself.

“Suppose we'd better be getting to the bottom of this,” Kouris said, heaving a sigh. There were no chairs big enough to support her, and her legs were no longer up to the task. She sat down with a thud they probably heard on the levels below.

I moved to her side, putting my palms on the curve of her horns, checking for scuffs. There were scratches along the grooves of her horns, but they felt as though they'd been there for an age.

“It's alright, yrval. They might not be as tough as dragon-bone, but they're not far off,” Kouris said, and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Reckon the wall's in a sorrier state.”

I let her pull me against her chest, wrapping my arms as far as they'd go around her waist. Kouris tilted her head back against the wall, grey eyes closing, urgency seeping out of her, making room for misery. I couldn't take her in my arms, couldn't let her hide from the world by burying her face in my neck, but I could curl up against her chest, letting her know I was there.

“Do you think you might...” Claire began, trailing off. I heard her boots clip the stone floor, and when I looked up, saw that she'd sat next to Kouris. “The faster we act, the better a chance we have of getting justice for King Jonas. I know little, beyond the fact that he was assassinated. Is there anything more you can tell me?”

Kouris took her time answering. It was wise to get all the information possible out of her while the memories were fresh, but it didn't feel kind. Ear to her chest, I heard her heart beating out of time and over itself, leaving me confused until I realised there were two separate rhythms belonging to twin hearts.

“After meeting with you, Jonas went to deal with some agriculture matters, in the Old West. It's routine, as far as I can be telling. He meets with a couple of representatives, over on the second level. There were guards stationed at either end of the corridor, but it curves at a weird angle and there's some kind of blind-spot. Reckon he wouldn't have been out of sight for more than a few seconds. But, aye. That was enough.”

“And the murder weapon?”

“Some kind of dagger, most likely. Nothing left behind, though.”

Claire took her time digesting the information, more for Kouris' sake than her own, but mulling the facts over in silence wasn't going to help anyone. Once she was standing, she offered Kouris her hand. Kouris took it, though she needed no help getting to her feet.

“Shouldn't have been snapping at the Commander like that,” Kouris said. “Come on. Let's be making ourselves useful, then.”

Kouris and Claire both hesitated, fixing their eyes on me.

“I'll be fine,” I said, “Promise.”

I cut between them, opening the hefty door and ushering them out. I had no intention of bringing King Jonas back, but I wasn't going to let them shepherd me to my room, where I'd be of no help to anyone. I was convinced I'd understand what I was seeing better than them. I'd be able to read the body in ways no one else could.

The castle beyond was not the one I'd become accustomed to. Nobody was going about their own business, anymore. Word spread and there was only one thing on anyone's mind, guards, servants and nobles alike. They poured from their chambers, leaving their posts, filling every corridor and courtyard. The King was dead, that much they knew, but every group we passed had their own ideas about how it had happened.

An arrow had flown through an open window and struck him in the chest; someone had heard that there were Canthians in the city, a few days back, and anyone from across the Uncharted Sea was a grim omen in and of themselves; one of the King's guards had betrayed him; but no, no, it was an outsider, someone from Agados or Felheim.

The one thing they agreed on was that the assailant was still within the castle. Bells chimed from a far tower, either out of respect or as a warning, and with all the chaos sown throughout the castle, we had no trouble getting to the floor King Jonas had been murdered on. Nobody could agree where it took place, and so the guards weren't stopping people from coming to their own conclusions and heading in the wrong direction.

We were stopped before we could get close. Two guards crossed their spears, blocking off the corridor, and one of them said, “I'm afraid you'll have to turn back,” when Kouris didn't break her gait.

“Move,” she ordered, but to the guards, she was just another pane.

Kouris would've snatched the spears from their hands and pushed through, if she had to, but Akela overheard the commotion and poked her head around the corner.

“It is fine,” she said, saving us from an altercation, “These ones, let them through.”

Relieved that they didn't have to restrain a pane, the guards stepped to the side, spears snapping back into place once we'd joined Akela. King Jonas' body had been taken away, leaving only bloodstains behind, soaked into the carpet, smeared across the stone surrounding it. When I breathed in, the scent of it suck in the back of my throat, and though the trail of death faded when King Jonas' body was removed, I could tell too much about my surroundings.

I knew where his body had ended up, how he had clutched at his chest – and it was definitely his chest, not his throat – and would've been able to place him, even without the bloodstains; I not only understood how long ago it had happened, but what had happened throughout each second that had passed; and I felt, to an unnerving extent, the last ounce of fear that had been bled from King Jonas' body.

Not using my necromancy in so long had created a drought within me, and I knew that I owed death itself something.

“Commander, look,” Kouris said, while Claire knelt down low, eyes scanning the corridor. “I shouldn't have been so short with you earlier. You were only doing your job.”

“No, no, you are right, Your Majesty,” Akela insisted, “Ightham and Northwood, they are having nothing to do with it, and I am being too hard on them because... because I am angry. You are understanding this, yes?”

“Aye,” Kouris said, holding out a hand. Akela shook it firmly. “—and just Kouris'll do. Been away for too long to be deserving any sort of rank.”

Claire's search was fruitless. The corridor curved, leaving only a small stretch of it in the blind-spot of both sets of guards that were stationed at either end. There was little in the way of hiding places, and she pulled the single cabinet away from the wall, finding nothing within, beneath or behind it. There was nothing concealed behind any of the hefty painting frames, either.

“We are having the castle searched, but there are too many places to be hiding a blade,” Akela said, frowning. She moved over to the open window spilling sunlight across the bloodstains. “The assassin, they are coming in this window, and leaving by it.”

I inched over, squeezing between Kouris and Claire to get a look out of it. There was a drop, but not a considerable one. Had Kouris been outside, she would've been able to push herself onto tiptoes to look in. It looked as though it had once been an open corridor, leading from one courtyard to another, but dank, murky water had pooled in it.

“Hm. Never could figure out why some of the walkways were flooding, even when Isin was still new,” Kouris said, “Still, don't reckon anyone could go unnoticed here long, meaning they knew Jonas' routine. This was well-planned, if nothing else.”

“Akela—should you require any assistance, I will do all I can to help,” Claire said, when staring out of the window didn't instantly solve all our problems.

“Yes, yes, I am appreciating that, Ightham. I am grilling you enough for even Queen Kidira to be satisfied that you are not guilty. I am needing to organise guards to properly question anyone in the area, but first, I am speaking with the guards who are stationed here when it is happening. King Atthis, he is locking them away, just to be safe.”

Promoted from suspect to interrogator, Claire followed Akela through the corridor and past the guards, and I almost had to wrench myself off the spot. Kouris placed a hand on my back, leading me on, and despite being the only one there capable of fixing this, I was the most useless.

Panic turned to sorrow throughout the castle, and those who weren't crying stood with their heads hung. I felt being dry-eyed left us conspicuous, but no one was focused on us. They busied themselves consoling one another, assuring friends and strangers alike that rumours were just rumours, and that they must wait for an official announcement from either King Atthis or Queen Kidira before feeling anything too heavily.

I tried not to stare at anyone, but sobbing so raw it twisted my stomach into knots clawed its way out of one of the chambers we passed. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, I saw Katja sat at a table, face buried in her arms. I took another three or four steps before I stopped and tugged on Claire's sleeve.