Shadowforged (Light & Shadow) (24 page)

It was good that I had not earned her anger in addition to everything else. We did not have time for blame, and a shouting match—for I knew, if pushed, that I would yell at her that she had gotten us into this mess to start with. I would not need to; she knew it well enough. And in truth, I did not blame her. The best either of us could do now was move forward.

“Also…” I swallowed. “Look, I know you wanted to wait, but we needed an ally.” She looked over at me wordlessly, and I sighed. “I told the High Priest who you were.” She bit her lip, then nodded.

“Fair. What’s he going to do?”

“He said he wants the King to support the rebellion, too,” I said grimly. “He’s not sure he can persuade him, but I convinced him that our interests were the same.”

“You know, I do look forward to meeting him someday,” Miriel said. “Now that he knows I’m an ally.” She looked almost hopeful, but then she sighed, and the hope drained away. “Gods. I have to go to Garad, don’t I?” The bitterness was so sharp in her voice that I took a step back, and she smiled sadly.

“I don’t even want to anymore,” she said, and I heard the twist of powerless anger in her voice. “At first, I thought I just had to get him back. And then I was sitting there, alone, and I thought…what if I do win him back? What then? I’ll spend my whole life with a man who tried to destroy everything I love. How can I do that?” We stared at each other for a moment. I had no answer for her, and she knew it. She knew from my silence that I had wondered much the same thing.

“But is there any other way?” I asked. It was the most important question. It was the question that held us trapped. She shook her head.

“Not if we want to survive at Court.” She pointed to my cot. “Very well, then,” she said grimly. “Sit. Tell me what we know. If we have to get him back, we need a plan. A very good one.”

“We need the best lie we’ve ever told,” I said, the words bitter in my mouth, and she tilted her head to the side, at once looking thoughtful.

“You know…” she said. “Now that you mention it, we might not.”

“What do you mean?” I frowned, and she gave a wondering sort of laugh.

“What’s the one thing we haven’t tried? The truth. We’ve never just told him the truth.” To her credit, the fact amused her.

“You’re going to tell him—“ I started, and she cut me off.

“That I don’t love him? No. Not that truth. But what if he knew that he had hurt me. That my uncle had nearly killed us after the audience, that someone had come to kill us with poison…what then?”

“He would feel guilty,” I said slowly, beginning to see her plan.

“And so then it wouldn’t just be me who had betrayed him,” she said grimly.

“No,” I agreed, with the sinking feeling that this could work. We might come out on top again, and Miriel would be right where she had been: within inches of the crown. I was trying to untangle just why that thought was so repugnant to me when Miriel clapped her hands.

“I have it,” she said. “
You
will tell him about my uncle, and that he—Garad—has made me enemies, and kept me in fear. Then I will step in and have you stop yelling at him, and he will listen. He’ll be surprised, you see. No one’s ever told him he was wrong. It will give us an opening.”

“What will you say?” I asked curiously, and she shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I’ll think while I get ready. Go guard the door; we can’t let anyone in.” Wearily, I went to obey. We had faced ruin and disgrace, and now our only choice seemed to be to forge ahead, ever pursuing a goal that would bring us no joy at all. I could only hope that when Miriel had the crown on her head, the game would change. I was not sure how much more of this I could stomach, and from her own outburst, I knew she felt the same.

Chapter 24

“Are you ready?” I slipped into the bedroom and raised my eyebrows in surprise at Miriel’s attire. Instead of one of her fine, jeweled gowns, Miriel wore a nightgown and a robe, her hair falling loose in a wealth of dark curls. She wore one of the finest of her robes, embroidered with silver thread and seed pearls, but the effect was deceptively simple. It was innocent, very far from the tiresome elegance of the Court; it was how Garad had first seen her in their meetings. She shaped her mouth into a smile, but her eyes were frightened.

“I’m afraid it won’t work,” she confessed. “I can’t stop thinking that we’ve lost. I don’t want to go, I want to run away.” When Miriel was in the spotlight, when she was performing, there was no room for doubt in her mind—only absolute, uncompromising conviction. It was always strange to see her fear when the mask came away.

“Do you want to run away now?” I asked her curiously, a strange seed of hope in my chest, and she considered the question for a moment. Then she shook her head.

“No. I don’t think it will work, but I have to try. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder what might have been, because I’ll know I crumbled.”

“We might not have a chance to run later, if this goes wrong,” I warned her, and her brow furrowed.

“No. We have to go. Do you agree?” Silently, I nodded. There was no other choice, no safe place to escape to. Even when our hopes lay shattered, there was no way but forward. “Then don’t make this harder for me,” she pleaded, and I took a deep breath.

“Let’s go, then.”

Our journey through the depths of the palace was quiet. Miriel was preparing herself for the most important act of her life, and I was twice as vigilant as normal, steering us along a circuitous route that even Temar would not think to check. I did not speak in part for fear of scaring Miriel. My heart was pounding so hard that I thought I might be sick, and I remembered how I had felt when I first came to the palace: like I was trapped in a story, where nothing was quite right.  Was this how heroes felt in stories?

A ridiculous thought. Had any true hero ever accompanied a lady as she tried, once more, to pull the wool over the eyes of the King she had already betrayed? No, fairy tales were simple—a lady and a knight, no difficult loyalties, no lies. Heroes did not betray their families and their Kings.

“Did we ever have a choice?” I asked Miriel, before I could stop myself. To my surprise, she stopped her progress to consider.

“Yes,” she said finally, and I felt the sinking feeling that she was right, that we had walked into every deception with our eyes open, and always the choice to walk away. Despite how many times we had told ourselves that we were trapped, we never had been.  “But you know,” Miriel said, “I don’t think we did wrong. What could we have been if we ran away? What I wanted for Heddred was noble, and what you wanted…Catwin, what
do
you want? For you?”

I winced and looked away. Unwittingly, she had touched on the sorest point, one I had meditated on as she had gotten dressed. Miriel had schemed and lied and betrayed because she believed she could rid the world of injustice and reshape the court and the country for the good of all. I had no such lofty goal. I had lied and betrayed as much as she had, but to no good purpose. More, what
could
I ever want? Temar?

Useless even to think it.

“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted in a strangled voice, and I felt tears come to my eyes when she reached out to lay her hand on my arm.

“If we get through this, Catwin—you’ve been my friend when I had none other, you’re the only one who ever believed that I could help the country like I wanted to, and not just because I could help you to your own ends. Whenever you find what you want, I’ll help you like you’ve helped me.” I said nothing, blinking back the tears, and she squeezed my arm. “Are you ready?”

I sniffled inelegantly and nodded, then wiped my eyes, and we set off once more. When we emerged from the side corridor, I drew my old boot knife out and slid it across the floor to the guards. If they searched me, they would find the others, but as I had bargained, this appeased them. They were new guards, I noted, and I was pleased to see that they did not know of Miriel’s disgrace, only her status as the King’s betrothed. With curt nods, they swung the doors open to us, and closed them again once we were through.

“Your Grace?” I called, and there was a rustle from the direction of the King’s bedchamber.

“Who’s there?” There was real fear in his voice, and for a moment, I truly felt pity for him. What good purpose could any visitor have? There had only ever been two people who would visit him for friendly purpose, and now he knew that neither loved him with an undivided heart, and neither shared his vision for Heddred. In the world of a King, with ill will on all sides—Kasimir’s threats, and Nilson’s, and those who would see the throne itself torn down—Garad had never been quite alone, until now. And he was afraid, and I was sick to my soul at the thought of more lies and sneaking about, all to a young man.

I felt the shadow welling up in my heart, undeniable. Garad was no friend of ours: I could not blame him for not caring for my happiness, but he had closed his eyes even to Miriel’s best interests, and he had put her in grave danger time and again. Right now, he was our enemy.
When you play to win, everyone is always your enemy
. Miriel might soften towards him one day, as might I. He might become an ally. But tonight, there was no time for sentiment, no time for my foolish qualms.

“It is Catwin, your Grace,” I called, and I held out my hands, palms forward, so that he might see I meant him no harm. “I have brought Miriel.”

The King emerged from his bedchamber scowling.

“I do not wish to speak to the Lady,” he said coldly. “And
you
. You defied my wishes, you went and freed her, then.” I did not point out that it had been laughably easy; however much he might have cautioned them, his guardsmen had not believed that two girls could outwit them.

“I swore a vow to her,” I said simply. Even if this was a piece of our place, I was proud to say it, and I was glad to speak the truth at last. “After they tried to kill us, we swore to each other that we would be on the same side. If it is in my power, I will never let her be alone and imprisoned. And, see, we came back,” I added.

“Who tried to kill you?” he asked suspiciously, seizing on that, taking the bait. I bit my lip.

“We still don’t know. Do you remember her ‘illness’ after the official audience? That was not illness, it was poison in her food and mine.”

“Someone tried to kill her, and you did not tell me?” he demanded. As Miriel had predicted, such news distressed him. He was angry, and still he loved her. I wondered what she made of this, watching from the shadows, but I did not have much time to spare for such thoughts. I had not her skill at weaving illusions, even when they were made of truths.

“We were afraid,” I admitted to him. “We did not know who we could trust. To call attention to it might have brought her more danger.” I drew a deep breath and took the plunge. “We even suspected the Duke, her uncle. We have asked him, and he has not denied it—but you see, I think it is just to keep us in fear. When Miriel arrived here, he told her that she must obey him and behave with absolute purity, or he would have her killed. When he knew that she had been going to see you without telling him, he was…” I took a moment to remember the Duke’s rage after that audience with the King, so that fear would show on my face; I was not Miriel, who could create the illusion of emotion from nothing. “He was very angry,” I finished softly.

“I knew nothing of this,” the King exclaimed. He saw the truth in my face, and was stunned. But seeing his wide eyes, his horror, I found that I had no sympathy. This was not only an act for me.

“You never
cared
to know,” I shot back. “Miriel begged you not to tell the court, do you remember that? She knew that it would have her enemies she could not fight, she knew it would enrage her uncle. But you did not listen to her. You put her in terrible danger, and ever since—“

“Catwin.” Miriel’s voice was soft and sweet. She walked forward out of the shadows and put her hand on my arm to stop my tirade, and even knowing that this was a part of the act, I wanted to shake her hand off and go on, rail at the King for his blindness. He was shocked already, staring at me open-mouthed. No one had ever yelled at him in his life. He turned to Miriel, who smiled at him tremulously.

“Is this true?” he asked, and she bowed her head.

“You could not have known.” She was whispering, but she knew this room; her voice echoed off the beautiful, cold marble.

“I hurt you?” he asked, disbelieving. “I?”

“I swore I would not be angry.” Tears stood out in Miriel’s eyes. “Not then, and not when we disagreed. I told myself—you were the King. You were born a King, not an ordinary person. You could not understand, and that was as it should be—you
should
not.” There was a moment of dead silence while his face showed his uncertainty, and then he scowled.

“You betrayed me,” he said flatly. He knew, now, that what he had seen was only a part of the story, but it was an inescapable truth. Involuntarily, I looked to Miriel, who nodded, squaring her shoulders.

“I did,” she admitted, looking him straight in the eyes. “I crumbled. I looked into the brightness of your love and I was afraid—of what I am, of what you are.” I could never have delivered such a line with a straight face, but Miriel could. “I was afraid I would never be worthy of being your Queen…and now my fear has cost me everything.”

“Yes,” he said. “It has. And it has broken my heart. I will never forgive you.” I felt a wave of elation and despair. So it was over. The thing we had lied and cheated and betrayed to achieve—it was snatched away, out of our reach forever. There was no recovering now, we had gambled everything and lost…and now we were free. I was not sure what I wanted, but I let myself realize, at last, that it was not this life of lies.

Miriel was far from defeated; she would not be turned back so easily as that. She played on without a break: swallowing, nodding, looking down at the ground for a moment. Then she clasped her hands before her, twisting the fingers, and looked back to him.

“I thank you,” she said simply, “for your honesty. I had come here to ask you for one more chance to be the Queen you deserve.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I know I did not even have the right to ask, but I could not go without knowing. Now I do. And I vow, you will have no argument from me and mine when you break the betrothal. I will admit what I have done if you wish it. And you need not tell my uncle. I will do so.” He stared back at her, swallowing. At her retreat, he was at a loss, torn between pride and love, and for all that I wanted Miriel to win—there lay our only path to safety—I was torn as well. I could not wish it with my whole heart.

“He will kill you,” the King said uncertainly, and I realized that he could not hold out. Not against her. Miriel saw it, too. She let no triumph show in her face, but she knew she had him. She swallowed, as if in fear, and there was a moment of pure silence.

Silence. I looked around myself, confused. We might have slipped into another world—I could hear nothing around us…

All at once, my hackles went up. Something was wrong—I might not know what, but I did know that every instinct screamed for me to run. I looked around myself wildly, missing whatever whispers the other were exchanging, and at last I put my finger on it. All this time, and not a sound from the hall. The guards should have changed—I knew their timing. And I remembered their faces now: men I had not seen before, their uniforms ill-fitting.

And now, faintly, so faint I thought I might hear only the frantic beat of my heart, I heard the tramp of a whole squadron. I waited for a moment, and heard it grow louder. It was all I needed to know; whatever form it took, death was coming. Panic washed over me.

“We have to leave,” I broke in. “Right now. Are there tunnels here?”

“What?” The King was bewildered, and I heard the tramp of soldiers growing ever closer. I did not hesitate. I grabbed Miriel’s hand and ran, yanking her after me, skidding to a stop and running back to pick up her cloak from the floor, and then running once more, making for an antechamber.

“Something’s happening,” I whispered fiercely over my shoulder to the King. “
Run
!” He did not follow us, he was frozen, looking to us and then the door, and I had no time to keep him safe. I turned, and took stock of the room: one window, too high for Miriel to climb, a table and a chair, and a wardrobe. As I began pushing the table beneath the window, I heard a shout outside the door, and the unmistakable thud of two bodies. “Get in the wardrobe,” I panted.

“What’s happening?” Miriel’s eyes were wide.

“I don’t know. Get inside!” The big double doors slammed open, echoing through the main chamber, as I heaved the table into place. It would have to do. I grabbed Miriel’s cloak and followed her, shutting the door behind us to a crack as quietly as I could, and crouching down next to her. We were hidden by the thick folds of the King’s cloaks, and I laid hers over our head so our eyes would not gleam and give us away.

“If they find us,” I breathed, “I’ll hold them off. Get on the table and climb out the window. You’ll have to break it. Then run, and get help.” She did not respond, and I could hear her breath coming in little sobs. Tentatively, not wishing to hurt her, I put my hand out to cover her mouth. Whoever was out there, we could not let them hear us.