Chapter 38
uben got us three names of local inns from the stable hand, but the first two were rammed and standing room only, and getting out of them isR almost as hard as getting into them. ‘Move out the way!’ A woman holding more tankards than should physically be possible barges through with her elbows out, causing other patrons to shift out of her path, including one who knocks my shoulder. I stumble to the side, only for my hands to grab the nearest solid object. Kyor.
As one palm lands flat against his chest, my other grabs his right arm, just a little way down from his injured shoulder. ‘I’m sorry …’ I stutter, straightening myself as he quickly hides the wince with a grin. ‘For touching me, Thorn? You never have to apologise for that. You should know that by now.’ As our eyes lock, I can’t help but think of the image of him only a few hours ago, weak and in pain. The thought I could have lost him causes a searing through my chest that makes it almost impossible to breathe.
But I’d feel like that if I lost any of the group – any of my friends from
Wrohelm.
That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway. ‘We should get going,’ I tell him, trying to ignore the breathlessness in my voice. ‘Try the last place Ruben mentioned.’ ‘Sure …’ Kyor smirks. ‘You just need to let go of my arm first.’ I hastily release him and twist away, hoping I’m fast enough that he doesn’t see the colour rise in my cheeks.
Out in the open, I make sure I’m walking just far enough away that I
don’t accidentally bump into him again, but it’s hard. First, because the streets are so busy, but also because my eyes and body seem to be constantly drawn to him.
We’re still on the route to the third inn when I’m struck by a pressure at the base of my spine, almost identical to how it felt when we were in the forest, riding away from the ring. Instinctively, I look down at my hand, as if I expect the ring to be gone, but it’s still there on my middle finger. ‘Everything all right?’ Kyor asks as I slide to a stop. ‘I think so,’ I say as my gaze skims over him to a dome-shaped roof cresting into the skyline. Immediately, the pressure in my spine subsides, almost as if my acknowledgement of the building was what it was waiting for. ‘I should go to the temple,’ I tell him with a sudden sense of certainty. ‘That’s what we’ve said this trip is for, after all. A pilgrimage for Etta. I should make good on that. Keep up appearances.’ Thank her for Kyor’s continued ability to breathe.
Kyor presses his lips together as if he’s going to object, only to dip his chin in acquiescence. ‘Fine, but we can’t be long. If there are any rooms left, I suspect they’ll go fast.’ I nod in agreement, already weaving through the buildings towards the dome shape that I am certain is a temple.
Sure enough, when I reach the outside, the cleanliness of the building exudes deference to the Gods. Not wanting to waste time, I head inside. ‘Rose,’ Kyor calls after me, but I don’t so much as turn my head to look at him. ‘I’ll just be a minute,’ I tell him. ‘You can wait outside if you want.’ Then, as if I am being pushed on by an invisible hand, I open the heavy wooden doors and step into the temple.
Prayer has been an intermittent activity for me ever since Florian died – or at least, since I believed he had died.
It was hard to pray to the Gods when I knew they had punished my family and me wrongly, even more so because I believed the person who should have been punished for lying was still living in splendour in the palace.
The few prayers that I managed came more out of desperation than a belief that the Gods were actually listening to me. When Dinah would insist we share words to the Goddess together, I would feel a prickle of unease across my skin. But now that I have been gifted by Etta herself, I suspect I
should have perhaps been more forthcoming with my libations, more dedicated to my thanks. But there has been little time to think of that with everything going on.
Now, though, as I step into the candlelit temple, aromas of ash and rosemary filling the air, I feel a sense of peace I didn’t expect. A sensation that I am on the right path; something I have doubted for almost every step of this journey. Here, inside these walls, that doubt has all but evaporated.
The pews are wide and practically empty, but as I move towards one of them, ready to take a seat, I pause, my attention stolen by a priestess. She is standing by the altar, dressed in a white robe, the edges trimmed in gold. I watch as she turns, and I realise it isn’t only the colour of her cloak that’s wrong, but the iridescent, pearl-like stone set in her forehead. ‘Rose,’ Kyor whispers as he sidles up to me. ‘I didn’t realise Etta’s priestesses wore a different colour in Galreck,’ I murmur, my voice as hushed as his, despite how few people there are to disturb. ‘They don’t,’ he says. ‘This isn’t Etta’s temple.’ I frown, ready to tell him that has to be wrong. After all, I was drawn to the building, and I’m blessed by Etta herself. It isn’t hard to put two and two together. Yet as I look around me, I slowly realise he’s right.
There are no symbols of the Goddess of Life, no sign of her spiral, the
mark of the ever-flowing act of life. ‘Whose—’ ‘Oel,’ he answers my question before I even finish it. ‘This is Oel’s temple.’ I stare at the altar. Oel. The God of Order and Logic. Why would I have been drawn here? None of my family have ever worshipped him. Not that I know of.
Goosebumps rise along my arms as I stare at the ring on my finger, unsure and unsettled by its presence and effect on me. It drew me here, and it was Mother’s ring. How many more secrets do you have, Mother?
How many more that even Dinah did not know?
Well, I am here, and it would be rude to walk out without saying something to Oel.
I genuflect. “Thank you,” I murmur to him, “for clear thoughts in moments of stress.” I hesitate before adding silently, If you could help me see what I should do about Kyor … that would be great.
There. That would do.
Aware of the weight that is suddenly bearing down on my chest, I spin around. ‘Come on. We should go to the last inn and see if there is room.’ ‘What about Etta?’ Kyor asks. ‘Do you not want to find her temple?’ ‘I’ll go in the morning,’ I tell him. ‘For now, we need a room.’ The ring is silent on my hand. I have done what it required of me, though I have no idea what exactly that is or why I had to do it.
As we walk out, there is no pull from the ring, no push to go in a certain direction, so we continue to the inn as planned.
The possibility of us finding somewhere to sleep is looking increasingly less likely as we arrive and are greeted by the sound of more heavy beats. ‘Fucking drums,’ I mutter as we make our way across to the bar. My mind is still whirring with the scene in the temple. That sense of peace I felt inside has very much gone, and in its place is a new sense of nervousness.
Perhaps worship of Oel and Etta takes place in the same temple in Galreck, I consider, only to dismiss the thought. I am reaching. Hoping to find an explanation as to why I was drawn to that place, but I’m not going to find
one. Not this hungry and tired. ‘Good evening, we were just —’ ‘If you’re going to ask if we’ve got a room, the answer’s no,’ the woman says before Kyor can even finish his sentence. He presses his lips together, preparing his next line, only for her to beat him to it. ‘And it doesn’t matter how big a tip you want to offer me. The prince himself could walk in right now and offer me every pair of his pretty silk underwear, and I’d still tell him I don’t have space. I can’t create more rooms.’ She bustles off, visibly harried by the overwhelming crowd. ‘Well, that’s me told,’ he says, looking at me with a smirk, though it falls almost instantly. ‘It’s your call. We can keep trying if you want. Or … stables?’ Neither of us wants to sleep in the stables, but the more we’ve walked around, the more I’ve seen Kyor start to flag. His right shoulder has been jostled by the crowds on the streets more than once, and he’s gone white with pain every time.
These last few hours walking through the city have also tired me out more than the entire journey combined.
We have no choice now, I think, looking at his pale skin. He needs rest, and if that ends up being on a pile of straw … well, it’s better than the
wooden pallet of the night before. Marginally.
‘Maybe we should —’ ‘Commander?’ Kyor and I turn around simultaneously, but while I have no idea who we’re looking at, the same can’t be said for Kyor, whose face cracks into one of the widest and most genuine smiles I’ve seen in a long time. ‘Ryne?’ He says it as if he can’t believe it’s true. ‘What are you doing here?’ The woman he’s talking to has to be in her sixties, with grey hair and broad shoulders. I’m immediately reminded of another person of a similar age: Grenda, one of the most formidable Rettlings in the whole Retterheld.
And she might have even won it, too, had Zara not ended her life the instant the Ofur – the final Retterheld trial – started. ‘What the fuck am I doing here?’ Ryne replies. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Kyor embraces the woman, pulling her fully into him as he slaps her on the back. When they break away, his smile is still in place despite his slight wince at his shoulder pain. ‘I thought Father assigned you up north?’ Her eyes dart around her. ‘Yes, well, I was posted at the Torailian border – fuckers trying to push into our land again – but I got some news that Arle might be in Galreck. And after Zelle, you know … I requested a transfer.’ Arle. Fuck. That makes me even more nervous than the thought of encroaching Torailians.
For the first time since seeing her, Kyor’s smile fades, and it’s not hard to work out why. Even though I’m not involved in the conversation, I feel the weight in my chest. So that explains his closeness with Ryne then. They are bonded by a love for Zelle. ‘Arle? Here?’ Kyor says with a frown. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘If the rumours are to be believed. I mean, how many big guys with one eyebrow and a star-shaped scar on the cheek do you get? Some say he’s here to meet the money. Could be just what we need to blow the whole thing to kingdom come.’ The knots in my stomach reach a new level of tension, and Kyor lets out a low whistle. ‘If he’s here … if I get my hands on the bastard …’ His hands flex and he doesn’t need to finish the sentence for me to hear the threat at the end of it. ‘Sorry, who’s Arle?’ I ask. Even though I already know the answer, Kyor
doesn’t know I know.
Keeping everyone’s secrets is hard work.
Kyor jerks suddenly, as if surprised to find me there, but his expression is nothing close to Ryne’s, whose eyes almost bug out of her head. ‘Lady Rose Kultavaris,’ she says, her voice a hushed whisper. She bows to me. ‘The gifted. It’s an absolute honour to meet you.’ My cheeks warm, and I wonder if there will be a time when it doesn’t feel uncomfortable to hear my name said in that way.
She looks at me with such awe. As a knight, she probably knew people like Grenda, who entered the Retterheld and didn’t make it out alive. She surely knows how fierce the other knights were, and knowing that I won over them appears to have given me Gods-like status in her eyes. Which is crazy because I’m anything but. ‘Hi,’ I say, lifting my hand in an awkward wave. ‘I thought you had returned to court,’ she says. ‘Rumour has it that you’ve moved back into your family’s home.’ ‘My sister is there now,’ I say, wishing I had just kept quiet and not drawn attention to myself, but it’s too late for that. ‘With her new husband,’ I say. ‘I’m visiting different cities. To go to their temples and give thanks to Etta.’ ‘How very pious of you,’ she says, her eyes whirling towards Kyor. ‘And you are with her as … a guard?’ She lifts one eyebrow. ‘No,’ he grunts. ‘If there is one thing Lady Rose does not need, it’s a guard. She can take care of herself.’ His unabashed praise warms me, and I hate that.
Kyor continues, ‘I’m on my way to the Hirathean Pass to take command, but en route I am making my atonement to Etta for playing fast and loose with the laws of the Retterheld. Travelling with Rose is merely … expedient.’ ‘Of course.’ Her lips twist. ‘I can’t say I was surprised to hear about that.
Never been one to play by the rules, have you, Commander?’ Her voice is warm, affectionate. ‘It’s always been about the endgame with you. The result is what counts, no matter the means.’ There’s a slight colour to his cheeks and an ease about him I haven’t seen around anyone since Zelle. It makes my heart hurt. ‘If you’ve been out of touch,’ Ryne murmured to Kyor, eyes going wide in realisation, ‘you won’t have heard the good news!’ ‘Which is?’ he asks, his eyebrow quirking.
‘Just a few days ago, apparently, we found it! In the Eastern Isles, just like we thought!’ She beams at him, and he lets out a relieved laugh and picks her up and swings her around. ‘Thank the Gods!’ He winces as he sets her down back on her feet, but despite his pain, both of them are grinning, and I don’t like being ignorant of something that has
clearly brought so much joy and relief. ‘What did you find?’ I ask.
Ryne shifts uncomfortably and it’s Kyor who answers. ‘Nothing to worry over, just something my father has been looking for.’ ‘He doesn’t like losing his things,’ Ryne jokes, making the king sound like a tantrumming toddler.
They’re clearly not going to tell me, so I let it go. ‘You were saying something about someone in Galreck?’ I prompt instead.
Ryne’s easy smile drops as she glances at me. ‘Yes. He’s been a huge name in the rebellion for years now. Too smart to be among those puppets who attacked at the ball, but rumour has it he fled here all the same. And if we get him —’ ‘We have a chance to find whoever’s funding them,’ Kyor finishes for
her.
My gut twists with unease.
I know who’s funding them, and I’m seven types of conflicted over it.
I want to warn Benny, but there’s nothing I can do now – apart from maybe keeping Kyor distracted long enough to hope that this Arle slips from
his mind.
A flash of pain wipes across his face. ‘Are you hurt, Commander?’ He meets her eye. ‘I had an encounter with a dark one.’ He keeps his voice low. ‘It didn’t end well for me,’ he admits.
He’s avoiding using the term Myrkr in the busy inn, I realise. And she … she understands instantly what Kyor means. ‘Did his blade—?’ she begins, panic in her gaze. ‘No,’ he interrupts. ‘No, not his. It’s a long story. Luckily, the injury was clear of the rot.’ ‘Thank the Gods. Do you need a healer? I can arrange to get one we trust here within a week.’ He grimaces. ‘Thank you, but I don’t have time to wait. I had a healer’s
attention already; I just need some rest.’ ‘Yes,’ Ryne snorts, ‘because you’re so good at that.’ He grins suddenly. ‘Right.’ The smile promptly fades, and Ryne is quick to continue the conversation. ‘I heard rumours that Fen went north to lay himself to rest,’ she says. ‘Back to Zelle’s hometown of Rowell.’ The name is clearly added for my benefit. ‘Zelle was from Rowell?’ I can’t help but express my shock. ‘But … he was so nice!’ Kyor laughs aloud. ‘Not everyone from Rowell is like Zara Duarte.’ A likely story.
We still haven’t decided what route we’re taking north from here, but the thought of heading to Rowell, where there’s even the slightest possibility of bumping into one of Zara’s family members, isn’t something I want to do. ‘Thank the Gods,’ Ryne mutters.
I only knew Zelle for a matter of moons before he was taken by Mortidem, but I would have assumed there would’ve been signs of his city, like favouring Zara and her crew. But Zelle never gave me the cutthroat Rowell vibe. Not once.
Then again, that wasn’t the sort of man Zelle was. He was fair, honourable and wise. And it’s not like every single person from the city can be an arsehole. ‘He left Rowell young,’ Kyor admits. ‘Found his dire wolf Fen shortly after – on the trip down to Wrohelm, if the tales are to be believed. It would make sense for Fen to have gone there to pass.’ His voice fades. ‘I’m sorry,’ Ryne says. She looks with sympathy at Kyor. ‘I know that losing them both must have been hard for you and Elska.’ Kyor nods. ‘Yeah.’ We fall into silence, each of us recalling our separate experiences of the commander, as the band starts up again, heavy drums with a rhythmic beat.
Behind us, a woman shrieks with laughter as a man lifts her up onto a tabletop to dance. ‘Well, I should let you go,’ Kyor says finally to Ryne. ‘You’ll keep in touch?’ ‘If I can, yes. How long are you here for?’ He shrugs. ‘Not sure. We need to find a room first.’ ‘You don’t have a room?’ Ryne looks truly horrified. ‘And I take it you
don’t want to deal with the court?’ ‘You know me well.’ He smiles ruefully. ‘No, I don’t. It appears we picked the wrong time to arrive.’ ‘You can say that again. There won’t be a spare room in all of Galreck. It seems as if half of Rowell has come to celebrate as well.’ My stomach sinks. A bed of straw it is, likely right next to Kyor. I wish the thought didn’t make my pulse race, but last night I thought I might have lost him, and the relief I feel that he’s still here makes me want to hold him closer than ever. And that’s a dangerous thing to consider. ‘Take my room,’ Ryne offers. ‘It’s upstairs. Small and crappy, and that’s putting it nicely, but it’s something. Herbert, Jones, and I were there together the last couple of nights, but they left this morning. And don’t worry, I already arranged for clean sheets to be put on.’ ‘Well, if there’s room for the three of you, then maybe we could just bunk down with you?’ I question.
She shoots me a smile, and I can’t tell why but it feels like there’s a hint of amusement in there. ‘No, it’s fine. Honestly, I was going to head further into the city anyway.
I was avoiding the knights’ quarters to stop word getting out about Wrohelm knights being here, but it’s been four days now. Either Arle knows we’re here or he doesn’t. I’ll sleep there.’ ‘Knights’ quarters are almost as gossipy as the courts,’ Kyor notes, ‘and you hate them as much as I do. I don’t want you going there on my account.’ ‘I do hate them. But I owe you. A lot.’ Her eyes fix on the prince with a mixture of tenderness and admiration. ‘Please, let me do this for you. After everything you’ve done for us, it’s hardly a lot.’ Kyor presses his lips together. He glances at me, then back at Ryne. ‘You’re sure?’ ‘I am.’ She pulls a key out of her pocket and hands it to me. ‘Up the stairs. Second door on the left,’ she instructs. ‘Do you not need to get your things first?’ I ask.
She taps the small satchel that’s slung over her arm. ‘I travel light. If I can’t carry it with me at all times, it’s not worth taking.’ I look to Kyor, not wanting to accept the key until he’s given his approval. Finally, he nods. ‘Thank you, Ryne. I owe you one,’ he says. ‘Not even close,’ she replies with a light laugh.
The two exchange a long hug, during which I’m almost sure Ryne whispers something in his ear, before she disappears into the crowd.
Kyor turns back to me. ‘Well, I guess we should get you safely ensconced upstairs.’ I have to admit, after the last couple of hours, I’d all but given up on getting a room to sleep in, and the thought of somewhere comfortable to lay my head makes me almost emotional. Somewhere warm. A mattress and not just a pallet on the floor … What’s more, the fact that Ryne shared the room with two others suggests it will give me a chance to actually put some space between Kyor and me tonight, even if we do have to sleep in the same bed. Anything to avoid waking wrapped around him and reminded of all the perfect mornings we had before.
I shake the thoughts from my head. This isn’t the time. He’s injured and I still don’t trust him. Not completely. Not the way I should. Not the way he wants me to.
But do I need trust for this? Can it not just be one simple, physical night?
No. I quash all the images that try to rise in my mind, but each thought is punctuated by another far more reckless one.
His body is behind me as I put the key in the lock and push open the door.
My stomach lurches at the sight that greets us. ‘Oh. But …’ The room is tiny. How the hell Ryne shared the room with two men is beyond me.
I turn to look at Kyor in disbelief, only to see a smirk ghosting on his lips. ‘Let’s just say Ryne’s … adventurous.’ I stare at the single bed crammed into a room barely bigger than it.
This is going to end badly.
