White Hart (25 page)

A flicker of understanding crosses her face, and she gives an almost imperceptible nod in my direction.

The tent is far more luxurious inside than it is outside. Candlelit lanterns with ornate engravings hang from the tent poles, and the ground is coated in thick carpets with colourful patterns. Silk drapes ripple down from the ceiling. There is a generous wooden desk filed with papers. On the desk, a quill lays next to an inkwell, its nib blackened by fresh ink.

Ellen’s prison is located on the far left of the tent, the entrance comes in nearer the right, and between them there is a long table filled with plates of food and fruit. My mouth waters as I survey the delicious delights. I don’t recognise half the goods, like a green fruit cut open to reveal tender purple flesh. There are grilled roots in a bright scarlet and tiny yellow berries.

“Not a lot of people realise how much treasure is hidden in the Waerg Woods,” Allerton says, taking a seat at the head of the table. He gestures for Cas and me to sit next to him. “Of course, most people are too afraid to enter the woods, and rightly so. There is a lot to fear.” He bites on a red root and then grins. The bright red juice has coated his teeth, making it appear that he has bloody saliva. The sight is so gruesome, it makes the hair on my neck stand on end. “I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of troubles in the forest.”

Cas and I exchange a glance, one that wonders who should answer his indirect question. I’m having trouble containing myself around the leader of the Borgans. My palms are sweaty, and more than once I have to wipe them on my trousers underneath the table. My mind keeps buzzing with thoughts. Did he kill my father? Or did he order his guards to do it? Was he even there? The blood thuds in my ears, pounding so hard I almost don’t hear Cas’s reply.

“We came across a strange flock of birds,” he says.

I inwardly cringe. We can make Cas look like an urchin, but he still sounds like a prince. We never thought about that before we entered the camp.

“A flock of birds you say? The aciflights, perhaps? Were you burned by them?” Allerton asks.

Cas nods.

“Yes, nasty little creatures. They have a poison, which is a lot like what people in Cyne city call acid. It burns the skin on touch.” His eyes examine me, trailing over my face, looking for evidence, for scarring. “But I see you both healed well.”

“I’m trained some in medicine,” I say quietly, forcing the words out. “I made poultices.”

“Very clever,” Allerton says as he breaks open a bread roll. “Very clever indeed. And what else did you encounter in the woods?”

He is testing us, trying to get us to open up so that he can fish for information. The more we talk, the more likely we are to slip up. He doesn’t believe our story and never has.

“A wood nymph,” I say.

“And yet here you are to tell the tale.” Allerton raises his eyebrows in over-exaggerated surprise. “Not many can say that after facing a wood nymph.”

“No, she was difficult to reason with,” I admit, trying not to stray too far from the truth. “Luckily, Olef is strong enough to see through her... guise.” The irony of the words hit me as I say them. Allerton also notices, because the corners of his mouth turn up in satisfaction.

“Imagine that,” he says, chewing on bread covered with preserves. “Now, youngsters. You haven’t eaten a single morsel, and yet you must still be recovering from your trials in the woods. Please, help yourselves.”

I lean across the table and take a handful of yellow berries. It takes almost all my willpower to stop my hand from shaking. When I pop one of the berries into my mouth it tastes far bitterer than I had expected, and I force myself to chew on.

Allerton lets out a chuckle, which sounds more like a feminine giggle. “Tika berries are not as delicious as they look, are they? But they are very good for the heart, so eat on, young Mim.”

Allerton’s voice is very controlled and even. All of his mannerisms are the same. He moves in fluid motions, never straying from his target. When he chooses food, his eyes lock onto the thing he wants and immediately his arm swoops out towards it. He never lets his gaze move over the table, surveying the delights. He just seems to know. I cannot stop watching him, wondering who he is and how he came to lead the Borgans. When I think about what Sasha said and how the Borgans help the craft-born, bile rises in my throat. How can I think of any of that, when this man most likely killed my father? The tent suddenly seems stifling hot, and I want to be anywhere but sat next to this man.

“You seem troubled, Mim. I’m sorry, I forget that we have company in the tent.” His gaze directs towards Ellen in her cage. Again, my stomach lurches. “Unfortunately the lovely young lady in the corner has been refusing to cooperate. I would love to release her, but, alas, I cannot for her own safety.”

“Get knotted!” Ellen shouts from the cage. That’s very much like the Ellen I know and mildly hate.

Cas stiffens next to me. He’s probably never seen the angry side of his future wife before.

“What a charming young thing she is,” Allerton says with a heavy sigh. “And to think she is the craft-born herself, the one true saviour of the realm and most possibly more powerful than any of us put together.”

“Why would you tell us that?” I find myself saying. “Wouldn’t you want to keep that a secret?”

“I would,” he says. “If I thought it was true. You see, the girl in that cage could have escaped umpteen times over if she was the true craft-born. Not even iron can stop
true
craft. Some legends of old claim that it diminishes magic, but not for the craft-born—no, they are too powerful for that. No, sadly, it would seem that we have the wrong girl in that cage.”

I shoot a glance towards Cas, but he is staring pointedly at his hands on the table, with a strange, frozen look on his face.

“I told you,” Ellen says loudly from her prison. “I haven’t figured out how to use them yet.” She stares at Cas. She knows exactly who he is and why he is here. There is a note of desperation in her voice, one which suggests she is terrified that Cas will turn his back on her if he believes she is not the craft-born after all. “No one has taught me to use my powers. I just know that I have them.”

Allerton rolls his eyes. “How very dull, my dear. It really is no fun when there’s nothing to play with.” He pouts. “And I have so very much to teach. Yet you won’t even try properly.”

“Maybe you should start with the basics,” I suggest. “Is there some way to focus on the source of the craft? Where does it come from?” I try to keep my tone neutral, but inside I am abuzz with all kinds of emotions attempting to rupture. I have a desire to lunge at Allerton and wrap my hands around his throat, but at the same time I want to hear what he can teach me. Part of me wants to free Ellen right now, and part of me wants to run away from the tent, from the Borgans and out of the Waerg Woods, never looking back.

“Well, I suppose I could tell her about how the craft comes from the elements—earth, wind, fire, and water.” He idly polishes a knife with the sleeve of his robes. “You have probably heard that magic was destroyed over the course of many wars throughout the realm, wars that began with humans against magical creatures, and ended up between warlocks and kings. For the most part, magic was destroyed in Aegunlund, but not completely.” He sets down the knife, clears his throat, and clicks his fingers. A tiny flame floats above his thumb. I gasp, and Cas starts. “Warlocks still exist, my dear, but they are not the same as the craft-born, oh no. Oho! No. That is something very different indeed.”

“What is the craft-born?” I ask.

“She is the embodiment of magic. Nature exists in all things, and therefore so does the craft. But only the craft-born—the talisman, if you like—can allow the magic to flow through all things. Without the craft-born, it remains clogged, caught in the throat of the world.” He shrugs. “Perhaps it is our curse for killing the Ancients.”

“Who were they?” I ask.

“Those who existed before us. Those for whom the magic simply
was.
Those who never needed a talisman, who were all craft-born.”

“So how can you perform magic?” I say.

“When the craft-born exists, warlocks are strengthened by the surge of power throughout the realm. When she comes to her full strength, the craft-born can use the four elements to bend to her own will. She can make nature do whatever she wants.” He leans in as he speaks, and I smell the hint of root vegetables on his breath, like sweet soil. His amber eyes glow bright. With a flick of his wrist, he gestures back to Ellen and snarls. “This creature cannot make anything bend to her will, nor can I bend her to mine. We are at an impasse. A pointless and predictable impasse. Halts-Walden ransacked for no reason; the prince lost for nothing. Just a silly little girl who lied to be queen.”

Cas’s eyes widen, and I see him turn to Ellen. When he does, I try to catch Ellen’s attention, shaking my head very slightly. She has tears in her eyes, and if she allows herself to show weakness now, she will show Cas that she is not the craft-born after all, and I will have to admit to my lies. I can’t let that happen. Not now. Not after everything.

When Ellen has composed herself, I turn back to Allerton. This time, my skin feels as though it is on fire. “What happened in Halts-Walden?”

He flaps an arm, and his sleeves ripple. “Oh, a disaster. I sent my men in to retrieve the craft-born, only some idiot beggar man got in their way. I almost lost one of my guards, and they had to kill the man, as well as two of the prince’s bodyguards. It was a terrible mess.”

I’m on my feet before Cas can clutch my arm. The guards step forward with their swords drawn. Allerton laughs in his hideous giggle, because he knows he has won. He knows he has revealed us for who we truly are. I don’t care. I can hardly see the room because of the mist that has fallen over my eyes. I see nothing but fat Allerton laughing at me and laughing at the death of my father.

“He was worth fifty of you.” The words come out through my clenched teeth. My fists grip the tablecloth.

“Who, dear?” Allerton says. “The beggar we killed? Oh my, well, that would mean that you are not from Fordrencan at all, are you? Sit down, dear.” He dabs his mouth with a napkin.

I want to wipe that smug smile from his face. He licks his lips and shuffles deeper into his seat, composing himself, waiting for me to sit. Well, I won’t. Eventually one of the guards forces me back into the chair.

“So you have come to help your friend,” he says. “Such a shame you were found out.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “The first rule in trying to trick someone is to never underestimate your victim. It would seem you forgot that rule, dear Mim. Now, would you care to tell me your real name?”

I do not speak. I’m half aware of Cas squirming in the seat next to me. I don’t know if Allerton knows he is the crown prince yet. Were the Borgans aware of us being together on the night they attacked our village? I’m not sure. I must keep my wits about me.

“That’s a pity. I suppose I will have to call you Mim for now.”

My hands tremble, not from fear but from the red-hot anger which is searing through my veins like a forest fire. It takes all the strength I can muster to stop myself lunging at him.

Allerton stops smiling, and his features turn sombre. His eyelids lower as he speaks. “I see the resemblance now. You are his daughter. My dear Mim, I am very sorry for your loss. My instructions were quite clear. The guards were to take the girl and not harm the villagers, but I saw it with my own eyes. Dear, your father threw himself at my men like a madman.”

His words paint the picture I never wanted to see. Now that I know what the guards look like, I can piece together the entire sorry scene. Tears sting my eyes. I won’t let them come. I won’t. I need to hold it together so I can finish this.

“Why would he do that?” Allerton continues. “Why would he sacrifice his life for someone he isn’t even related to? The prince’s guards had a duty to serve, but why did your father die for that girl over there?” He gestures to Ellen. “It’s so strange.”

I stare down at my hands, but I can see his golden eyes examining the side of my face. Of course Father died thinking he was protecting me, thinking that the men had come for the craft-born. I can’t tell if Allerton has figured this out yet.

“So if you are not Mim from Fordrencan,” Allerton says. “Then who is this rather handsome fellow sitting next to you?” He points to Cas with a flourish, and I sense Cas sinking down in his chair. “Stand up, dear. Let’s get a look at you.”

There’s a slow creak as Cas pushes his chair away. I see two pale hands gripping the edge of the table. I follow those hands to Cas’s ripped and muddied jacket. Despite its wear and tear, you can still clearly see the embroidery on the sleeve. We were fools to think we could disguise ourselves. No one from Halts-Walden would wear a jacket like that. When I meet Cas’s eyes, my heart sinks to see the stark look of fear in them.

Allerton leans forward and places his chin on his steepled fingers. “You’ve clearly been living in the woods for a while. There is a most definite stench of
mud
.” He curls up his lip in disgust. “However, those clothes are rather fine.” His eyes narrow, and it is as though I can see the cogs of his brain working out our innermost secrets. I have to do something to stop Cas being discovered.

I glance over to Ellen, who has her face pressed up against the metal bars with tears streaming down her face. She has the look of someone who has seen victory snatched from her at the last moment. I think of Allerton’s harsh words—saying she is unable to escape on her own. Well, she is not on her own anymore, and I’d love to see the look on his face when she proves him wrong.

There’s only one thing I can do, one thing that might save us all. I have to let the circus animal out of the cage.

A
llerton’s voice drones on as I quietly close my eyes. My head is angled down, looking at my hands so that he does not notice what I’m doing. With my eyes shut, I think of my dreams, those strange dreams where I found myself becoming one with nature. According to Allerton, I can control the elements, and I focus on that ability, that power. I focus on it with all my might.