White Hart (26 page)

The tent falls silent. Next to me, Allerton lets out a small gasp.

“The power,” I hear him whisper in awe.

Then something rips through my body, a shudder like nothing I’ve experienced before. My hair lifts from the back of my neck. It flies before my eyes as a powerful wind sweeps through the tent, rattling the table and pushing us all back. I fall backwards, landing next to Cas on the carpeted floor.

The wind picks up books, papers, and curtains, throwing them around the tent. The guards fall backwards, shielding their eyes from the force of the wind. Using my focus, I direct the wind towards Ellen’s cell and, with all my might, blow the door straight off the hinges. Ellen—a girl who never misses an opportunity when she sees it—stands up straight as she walks out of the cage. I move the wind back, so that it will not knock her over, and allow her to walk freely, with just her hair batting around her face. She keeps an expression of complete control on her face, playing the part well. She glances at me once, and I nod just a little to let her know that it’s me.

When she has walked to the centre of the tent, I get onto my feet and pull Cas up. Allerton stands, and I force the wind back at him, knocking him against the tent wall, which unsteadies the structure. The tent is beginning to implode on itself, and we need to get out before we are stuck beneath the heavy sheets of canvas. This is our only chance to escape.

“We have to go,” I say.

Ellen reaches across and takes Cas’s hand. They run through the tent together.

My powers are draining. This is the most I’ve ever used them, and I don’t know how long they will last. We burst out of the tent back into the campsite. In the distance, Ellen and Cas continue to run through the camp until I can no longer see them, and for a moment, I freeze. With a sick feeling, I realise that they have left me behind. They have left the camp together, without even checking that I’m with them. How could they?

Allerton is not far behind me, making me all too aware of his presence. I feel his eyes on my back. I want to follow Cas and Ellen out of the camp, but the dagger burns next to my leg. It longs to be used, to be thrust into the gut of that fat, smug man.

I turn back.

I reach down and pull the dagger from my boot. Allerton’s eyes grow wide as he sees it. The wind circles us, sending his robe into a flutter of black, twisting my cape around my neck. I shrug it off. I step forward, clutching the dagger.

“I know it’s you,” he says. “I knew it the moment I saw you. The others may be fooled, but I am not. They may think you are an average little girl, without anything special, but I see you for what you really are, and that is
powerful
.”

I grip the hilt of the dagger. “I don’t care what you think. You’re a
murderer
!”

Allerton shakes his head. There’s a hint of sadness in his shining eyes, a hint of regret. “No one was supposed to get hurt. I’m sorry about your father. I truly am.”

The sincerity in his voice makes me falter. I steel myself and take a step closer. “This is a trick. You just want to live.”

“The truth is that you need me,” he shouts through the wind. “You need me to help you control your power. Look around you. Look what you have done.”

It’s only then that I see the hurricane ripping through the camp, tearing the roofs from the huts, knocking people from their feet. The shock staggers me. I try to focus on calming the wind, but it won’t. It simply carries on with its destruction.

“Make it stop!” I yell. “Make it turn off!”

“It’s not a switch, Mim,” Allerton says. “Your emotions are too high. You are letting your grief control you and your power. You need to calm yourself deep within.”

“I can’t.” My voice is drowned by the howling winds. “I can’t do it.” I turn back to Allerton and step forward. “It’s because I came here to avenge my father’s death. The only thing that will work is killing you.”

A freezing cold sensation spreads over my skin, finally cooling the red-hot rage. I take two steps closer to Allerton, holding out my dagger. His guards are still trapped beneath the collapsed tent. The rest of the camp are too busy running for their lives to stop me. This is it. This is the moment I have been waiting for, the moment I promised to my dead father that I would fulfil. It is time to kill the man responsible for his death, to finally deliver justice. I move closer and place the dagger at his throat. Allerton’s golden eyes widen in shock, and he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Mae!” A familiar voice jolts me out of my spell. Sasha stands behind Allerton, her red hair whipped up by the wind. “Mae, don’t do this.”

“So your allegiance is to them,” I spit. “I thought you would turn on us eventually.”

“No, Mae, it’s not. Don’t do this, because if you do, you will change. If you take a person’s life... There’s no coming back. I don’t want that to happen to you,” she pleads.

I swallow and turn back to Allerton. His mouth is open in shock, and his forehead is lifted and wrinkled. His eyes beseech me. He has no weapon, and no way of fighting back. All around us, the wind continues to howl in a terrible wail of despair.

This is not how I imagined delivering justice. This is not what I thought it would be like. I thought it would be heroic and passionate, not sleazy and pathetic. The winds howl louder, and I finally realise why. They are my tears. The wind is doing what I could not. It is grieving.

I drop the knife to the ground. Allerton staggers backwards. My knees collapse from beneath me as I do the one thing I said I would never do. I can’t stop it. It’s like a force I have never experienced before, stronger than the wind ever was, and it hits me so hard that I’m on my knees in the soil.

I cry.

The wall comes down, and I cry so hard I can’t breathe. I plunge my hands into the soil and then beat the ground with my fists. At the same time, the wind stops howling. The breeze calms to nothing. The only howl comes from me.

Warm arms wrap around me, and I find myself sobbing into red hair. Sasha makes soothing noises and strokes my head until the sobbing subsides. I eventually pull away, wiping away tears with dirty hands and streaking mud all down myself.

I am about to open my mouth to thank her when a horn sounds out from nearby. Thundering hooves approach the camp, a horse snorts, and a cavalry forces its way through the gate. A stunning white mare stops a short distance from us, carrying a man dressed in chainmail with a bright red cape embroidered with a dancing dragon. He dismounts and lifts his helmet to reveal a face that seems oddly familiar. He is grey-haired, with pale eyes and a firm jaw. He stands upright, very straight, with lips that are downturned into a ferocious frown.

“Where is my son?” The man not so much speaks as growls.

Sasha gasps. “I think that’s the king.”

Cas’s father walks straight past us and strides up to Allerton. He places a hand over the Allerton’s jaw and squeezes. “I will not ask again. Where is my son?”

Allerton attempts to speak through his squashed lips but manages only a mumble. Cas’s father releases him. “He ran away with the girl.” Allerton glances across to me. “The craft-born.”

The king swears and kicks the soil with a roar. “That idiotic twit! Three days of trekking through that blasted forest, and the shit runs away.”

Before I know what I’m doing I get to my feet. “I can find him.”

The king turns to me slowly. Oh, he has Cas’s eyes all right, but they are nothing like Cas. The king has eyes like frozen opals. They are hard and cold, with little emotion. Cas has eyes like the moon. They are wide and open and change colour depending on his mood. I see little of Cas’s good nature in his father.

“And who might you be?” the king asks.

“I’m the idiotic twit who suggested your son go after Ellen in the first place, so you can take it out on me rather than him if you want.” I lift up my chin to hide the fear causing me to quake in my shoes. Allerton chuckles. The last thing I need reminding of is the fact that Allerton is still alive and my father is dead.

The king moves forward and grabs me by the collar of my tunic. Every time he moves, his chain mail chinks like soft bells. “You will find me my son, you dirty little urchin. I’ve not spent three long days in that wasteland for nothing. He’d better be with the craft-born. It’ll be the only thing he’s good for, if he marries her.” He roughly releases my tunic.

As the king walks away, I flash a goodbye glance at Sasha. My world has turned upside down in just a few moments, and I wish I had the words to thank her for helping me, for stopping me making the worst mistake of my life. I wish I had the time. She waves.

“I’ll miss you, White Hart,” she calls.

The old nickname given to me by the people of Halts-Walden twists at my heart. I wave back, avoiding Allerton. That wound is still wide open, but Sasha managed to help me heal it a little at the corners.

The king strides over to his horse and mounts it. One of his guard helps me up onto the withers of a grey mare. The king doesn’t even wait for me to settle before he is galloping out of the camp. A pang bursts in my chest as we pass the broken-down huts. It was my grief that caused the destruction. I never should have let it happen.

Back into the forest, I direct the king towards where we left Gwen and Anta. If I know Cas, he will have gone straight to his horse. When I think of him running out of the camp without me, my gut aches. How could he leave me behind?
Stop whining, Mae. You knew from the very beginning he never liked you
.

We weave through a new thicket, which is more like shadows interlaced with trees the night sky is so dark. My eyes strain as I search for any sight of Cas or the animals. There’s a blur of white, and my heart soars.

“Anta,” I cry as the white stag trots out from the trees.

“Look at that beast,” the king says. “I must have it.” He reaches for his bow.

“No!” I cry. I drop down from the horse and run to my stag, protecting him with my body. “You will not hunt him.”

The king raises his bow. “Get out of my way, girl. These are my woods, and I will hunt whatever I like in them.”

“You will not hunt him. He is mine.” The tears are close to the surface again, and my voice shakes. I’ve not come so far to lose Anta as well as Father.
And Finn... and Sasha
. I wrap my arms around Anta’s neck, holding him tight.

“Stop fooling around and get out of the way, or I will shoot you.”

“No!” I scream.

The king lets loose his arrow, and it plunges into my side. I scream and clutch onto Anta’s fur. He lets out a groan of agony as though he feels the arrow in his own side.

“Father!” Cas comes running out of the forest trees. As I feel the blood trickle down my side, he rushes over to me. “Mae, no. Father, what have you done?” He stares at the arrow in horror.

“I’m hunting, son, what does it look like?” the king replaces his bow and dismounts. “Well, seeing as the little brat is determined to stop my fun, hello, dear Casimir,” he says in a voice laced with sarcasm. “What a pleasure it is to see you again, and looking so regal in your rags. Gods above, what have you done to your hair?”

“Never mind my hair—you need to get help to Mae. She’s bleeding!”

The king clouts his son around the head, hitting him with such a heavy blow that Ellen screams as she exits the thicket. “That is no way to address your king.”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Cas mutters. “Please help my friend. She is bleeding, Your Majesty.”

Seeing the distant look in Cas’s eyes is almost as painful as the arrow in my side. Ellen stares at the scene, aghast. She eventually puts her hand inside his. I flinch away from them all.

“Very well. Where is the healer? Come forth, you old cretin,” the king says, rolling his eyes with boredom.

A man in dark blue robes hurries forth. His eyes widen at my wound. “Oh, this is very bad indeed.”

“That’s not helping,” I say between gritted teeth.

“We need to remove the arrow and swiftly. But she will lose a lot of blood, and bandages need to be applied.” The man is very old, with crinkling eyes and white stubble on his cheeks. Still, he clicks his fingers, and the guards are at his side in seconds. “Fetch my tools from the carriage, and something to carry her on.”

“I’m not leaving Anta while
he
is around.” I glare at the king.

“I am your king, and you will address me as such.” His eyes flash with temper.

“Your Majesty,” I say with a sneer. I’m too angry and in too much pain to be afraid of him. What kind of coward shoots an arrow at a girl?

“Father, Mae saved my life on more than one occasion when we were in the woods. Spare her and her stag, please.” He tries to move between the king and me, but His Majesty is still staring me down with his austere glare. Cas rushes to where we stashed our belongings. “Look! This is the stag’s bridle. Mae is telling the truth. She rides Anta like a horse.”

The king briefly glances at the bridle in Cas’s hand. “Fine. We don’t have time for this nonsense. Casimir, you will ride the stag, and the craft-born can ride your horse. Healer—get the injured girl into the carriage and fix her on the way back to Cyne. We need a new housemaid in the Red Palace, although that insolent streak will need to be beaten out of her.”

“Father, I don’t think—”

“It’s
Your Majesty
,” the king booms. “And I will do what I want. Now move your sorry arses before I put another arrow in the girl. This time I won’t miss the heart.” He grins at me, flashing his teeth. My bravado fails. Cold fear runs through my veins.

As the healer helps me onto the stretcher, all I can think of is the vision shown to me by the Nix. I’m one step closer to it coming true.

T
he healer pokes and prods around in my wound as we ride in the carriage.

“It’s not deep,” he says. “I suspect His Majesty did not release the arrow at full strength. Then you really would have been in trouble.”

“How lucky I am not to have incurred his full wrath,” I snap.

“You are lucky,” he replies, his voice straining as he yanks the piece of metal from my flesh. I let out a cry. “You may not realise this, but talking to His Majesty, in the way you spoke to him, is treason. You should really watch your tongue before he cuts it out.” He leans closer and waggles his flaky eyebrows. “Or worse. In fact, I believe the only reason you were not executed on the spot was because of your services to His Highness.”