Then again, Tenger had also given me specific orders if Kestra failed to produce the Olden Blade. Was I supposed to protect Kestra ... from myself?
When she began to relax, I said, "I heard what was happening through the library door. I'd have come in, but that would've made things worse."
I'd done more than just hear it. I'd fought every instinct within myself not to charge through the door and help. Every time she had screamed, or pled for mercy, or cried through the pain, it had echoed into the deepest part of me too. I should've found a way to help her.
Should have.
Couldn't have.
Should have anyway.
It would've been futile. If I had entered, I'd only have had my knife, which might have worked for Kestra's father, but I'd never have gotten as far as Lord Endrick. Only the Infidante could do that, if one was found.
"I knew you couldn't come in," she mumbled. "But I needed to get sent here, didn't I."
Another question that wasn't a question, another sharp prick of my conscience. The worst part was that she had clearly understood something I hadn't until now. Of course, she couldn't have simply walked down here on her own, demanding to inspect the cells. She had to be sent here. Which meant she had to do something awful enough to deserve it. She deliberately incited Lord Endrick's anger against her, because Trina and I had forced her to do it.
How had Kestra described the Coracks before? As scum? That seemed about right.
Kestra's shaking had stopped but her skin was like ice. I shifted until I was directly behind her, letting her recline against my chest, and folding her into my arms for warmth. It was the best I could offer for an apology. "Are you hurting?"
"My neck feels awful. I don't know what he did to it."
"Lean forward." When she did, I ran my thumb across the back of her neck, barely pressing in until she flinched and I stopped. It was swollen in one spot but had a hard center. I couldn't explain it. "Maybe a bruise is forming."
"I'll be lucky if that's the worst he did." Her eyes were growing heavy, which was no surprise. I doubted she had slept at all last night, and very little the night before. All I could do was bring her back into my arms, where she nestled in with her cheek against my chest. With great effort, I kept my breath steady enough that I wouldn't disturb her, but there was nothing I could do about the pounding of my heart, fully aware of her nearness.
She sighed, then her muscles trembled as another shiver ran through her. I tightened my arms to comfort her until she relaxed again, and I was sure she murmured my name. I wished I knew why.
This was not the arrogant girl from the inn, or the girl who had firmly resolved to hate me. This time, Kestra needed me here. I almost dared to believe that she wanted me here.
Just as much as I wanted to be here, holding her, breathing her in. I wasn't sure when my feelings had changed, only that somewhere between stepping into that carriage and this moment, she had turned my heart inside out.
More importantly, she seemed to be changing too. I saw it in her eyes, the way she occasionally lowered her guard, or in those few seconds in the gardens when her fingers had touched mine. But it never lasted long before she would catch herself and back away, every single time. Being this close to her was an entirely new form of torture, a constant twist on my emotions, but still a thousand times better than being apart.
"It's all right," I whispered. "You're safe with me."
She let out a gentle breath. "I wish I were back in the Lava Fields," she murmured. "I barely remember them."
"That was only a few days ago."
"It was a lifetime ago." A minute later, her breathing became regular. She was asleep.
And with her this close, I had never been more awake.
At least Kestra was resting comfortably. For my part, I should've found a better place to sit than against a sharp rock wall with nowhere to recline my head. A half hour ago, a thick blanket had been sent into the cell, and when I wrapped it around Kestra, she settled lower onto the ground, using my leg for a pillow. The guards also gave me a thick slice of bread, wrapped in a thin cloth napkin. I briefly wondered what to do with it. Anywhere out in the open would call in the rats, so I set it inside my satchel and hoped the rats wouldn't be hungry enough to sniff it out.
I kept the satchel with me as often as possible now. Someone had searched through it once and taken the key, probably Kestra, but I couldn't allow a search to happen again. Nothing in it tied me to the Coracks, but Garr's old ring was in the bottom and I'd promised to keep it safe. On casual observation, it wasn't the kind of ring that would draw much attention, just a gold band with an inner inscription. It had meant everything to Garr, and since his death, it meant everything to me.
For the past half hour, I'd been rubbing my thumb along the ring, thinking of the kind of person Garr had expected me to become one day, and how far from that I was.
Garr would never have supported me joining the Coracks. He didn't trust their motives, or their techniques. He never would have supported this mission I was on, the hard things we'd put Kestra through.
Now that I was with the Coracks, I was disappointing them too, or I would soon. A few months ago, Tenger had hinted that I might one day take a leadership role, become his second-in-command.
What a joke that was. Tenger was as wrong about me as Garr had been--this mission proved that. It was pointless to pretend anymore that I was indifferent to Kestra, not when she constantly occupied my thoughts. And the more certain I became of my feelings toward her, the more I'd begun to doubt everything else, myself most of all. Cursing under my breath, I dropped the ring back into the satchel, where it belonged, and where it would remain.
Then I waited, occasionally brushing the tips of my fingers against Kestra's cheek. She seemed warmer now and was in a deep sleep. One hand rested just below my knee and every so often she gave a soft cry, squeezed my leg, and then released it. Probably nightmares. I hoped I wasn't in them.
Tenger's plan had been easy enough to accept when I hated Kestra and knew she hated me. Now I didn't know what to do. The only way to complete this mission was to stay near her, but the closer we became, the more I doubted that I could see this through to the end.
Nearly two hours passed before she awoke, and she did so slowly, as if she had forgotten--or hadn't wanted to remember--where she was. When she did remember, she sat up suddenly, as if slapped back into reality.
With some relief, I shook out my leg, which had long ago gone numb. She noticed it and wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself, staring at me like I should have made some profound discovery about the Blade while she slept. One of us had to say something.
Then I remembered the bread and pulled it from my satchel. "Not the best place to keep food, but I doubted you'd want to share with the rats."
She took a nibble from the bread, then hesitated. "Have you eaten anything?"
"I'm fine, Princess." I thought she was beginning to tolerate my nickname for her, but maybe not. Her face scrunched up the same as always.
"You still think I'm treated like a princess, after seeing me in here?" She broke the bread in half and held it out to me. "I can share with one rat, I suppose."
At least she smiled as she spoke. She must have been feeling better.
"You need it," I said. "You're imprisoned here. I can leave at any time."
She offered the bread again. "You can, but you won't."
"No, I won't leave." I took the bread, keenly aware of the way her fingers brushed over mine. Did she know how even these small moments dissected me? With some effort, I collected my thoughts again. "Was this Risha's cell?"
"It was her servant's. A woman named Anaya."
I snorted dismissively. "The Coracks believe Anaya betrayed Risha. That she was Endrick's spy among the Halderians, and the reason Risha ended up here."
"Anaya was executed, same as her mistress."
"And Anaya had magic, same as Lord Endrick. Magic is a corruption. Even for tho
se with good intentions, eventually magic will corrupt. After what Lord Endrick just did to you, how can you doubt that?"
"Yes, Endrick is evil. But that doesn't mean Anaya was. That doesn't mean all Endreans are."
I took her hand, letting my fingers dance with hers. "My father was a good man. Soon after the war, he took in an Endrean woman who had escaped from Endrick and was begging for protection. She had the ability to infuse objects with magic, so you can imagine how Endrick desired that power. Over the next few weeks, her temperament worsened, her magic sometimes sparked out of control, and her skin began to gray." I hesitated. Despite how young I'd been then, I remembered everything, and even now, it was hard to talk about. "At the end of a month, she killed my father and claimed it as a victory for Endrick. Up until the night before that happened, she had claimed to be one of the good ones."
I waited for her to say something, anything. When she didn't, I continued, "Maybe you never saw what Endrean magic did to this land during the war, but I have. They destroyed whole cities, a single curse sterilizing vast acres of land. They killed innocents without a blink of mercy, all of them following Endrick's orders right up to the day he killed them too. If Anaya was good, then she was the only good Endrean ... ever."
Kestra kept her eyes on the ground. "Did Endrick really kill all of his own people?"
"He didn't just kill them, Kestra. It was a planned annihilation, taking their magic in the order he needed it most."
"What if there are more in hiding, just like the Halderians?"
"The Coracks won't let them live." I folded my hand around hers. "We can't go to all this trouble to destroy Endrick and then risk another Endrean rising to power."
I knew how cold my words must have sounded, but there were reasons for the order. Nothing in Antoran history suggested magic was anything but evil.
Kestra didn't seem convinced, but rather than argue, she said, "Endrick would've searched Risha's cell, but might not have considered her servant's. We need to start our search here."
I began at the end deepest into the cell while she was nearer the door. With so little light, we traced our fingers along the rock, feeling for any patterns or gaps. The rock creased and jutted and cut on its sharpest tips, but there was nothing unusual.
That is, until several minutes later when Kestra whispered, "This is writing, Simon, I'm sure of it!"
I scrambled over to her and ran my hands along the rock. She was right--the etchings I felt were carved into the wall, but it was too dark to read them.
Then her expression fell. "In seventeen years, we wouldn't be the first to see this. Whatever is written here has been seen a thousand times already."
"Soon, it will have been seen a thousand and one times. Move back." I grabbed the napkin that had wrapped the bread and twisted it tight. Then I withdrew a piece of fire steel from my satchel. The napkin would burn fast. We'd read faster. I scraped the metal against the rock wall until it sparked enough to light the napkin on fire. Once it did, I held it close to the carving. Kestra leaned in beside me to see what was written there.
We only had a few seconds, but it was enough to read.
One to Vanquish
One to Rule
One to Fall
But All to Fool
I ground out the last of the embers from the napkin and leaned against the rock wall. "One to Vanquish. That must be the Infidante, meant to kill Endrick."
Beside me, Kestra mumbled, "One to Rule. Because the Infidante will choose the next ruler of the Scarlet Throne."
"One to Fall," I continued. "That's Lord Endrick, I assume. What of the fourth line, But All to Fool?" I pushed my hair back with my fingers, out of frustration more than anything else. "It's irrelevant anyway. Nothing in the carving tells us where the dagger is hidden."
Kestra's attention seemed to have shifted in another direction. "The carving is too clean to have been done by hand. Anaya must've used magic. I'd always heard her powers were depleted when she came here. Maybe they weren't."
I sat up taller. "What if the fourth line, But All to Fool, is about Risha? We know she brought the Blade into the dungeons. But somewhere between her arrest and execution, it disappeared. Somehow, she fooled everyone."
Kestra nodded. "Wherever Risha hid the Blade, she would've made sure someone knew how to find it. Maybe Gerald?"
"Gerald?" My face scrunched up in confusion. "Is he--" When she nodded, I added, "Then he's proof that the Halderians don't know where the Blade is. If they did, they'd have had Gerald retrieve it by now."
"But someone knows." Kestra touched my arm. "Why did Thorne Halderian recognize Trina at the inn? Why was she chosen for this mission, above other girls with more experience, or frankly, more stability? Trina knows more than she's saying."
Suddenly, I groaned. "Trina brought Tenger new information about the Blade. That's the only reason he allowed her to join us." I stood and banged on the door until a guard came down the slope. "Lady Kestra must prepare to see her father again. Call for her handmaiden to bring her a clean dress." After the guard left, I turned back to her. "Then we'll find out everything."
Kestra nodded, but already seemed lost in another maze of thoughts, secrets she guarded well. Yet more and more, it felt as if we were on the same side. In time, I would find out all her secrets.
Or worse. She would find out mine.
It took another hour before Trina came, and she did so with an apology, explaining that every maid in Woodcourt who could work a needle had been ordered to make dresses for me, in preparation for my coming wedding.
"Is that really happening tomorrow night?" Trina settled into the cramped corner of our cell, making it seem smaller, though I tried to hide the panic on my face. "Everything can still work out though. If we get the Olden Blade by then, we can leave tomorrow, before the wedding."
When neither Simon nor I replied, she held out the dress she had brought with her, a light blue gown with a high collar of white lace, something that might've been perfect if I were nearing the age of eighty, and blind. "It's the best I could do in so little time. It's only one dress, Kestra. Why are you so quiet?"
"You didn't sew that dress," Simon said flatly. "You don't sew."
"I didn't, until I had to pretend to know how three hours ago!" Trina's face wrinkled. "What is the matter with you two?"
"You're keeping a secret from us." I hoped my bold tone would intimidate her. "Now is the time to confess."
Trina's eyes darted. "There is something, but it would only matter if you marry Basil." Now our eyes met. "You won't do that, right?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Obviously, you want to know why Basil is really marrying you. Why he wanted to move your wedding date forward." Trina shrugged. "Isn't that what we're talking about?"
"No." Simon's brows pressed together. "We're talking about--"
"That's what we're talking about." I looked back to Trina. "Why is Basil marrying me?"
Trina paled. "When I was on my way down here earlier, with the blanket and the bread, I passed your father's library. He was in there, along with Endrick and Sir Basil. Basil was crying, I'm sure of it."
I sat taller, trying to ignore how much this cell closed in on me when I did. "What did you hear?"
"Endrick wants you dead--he said exactly those words. But he's worried that if he executes a Dallisor without cause, the other Dallisors will revolt. He reminded Basil that they had made a bargain. Basil is supposed to kill you, after your wedding. In exchange, Endrick will offer Reddengrad protection."
By the time she'd finished speaking, my hands were shaking. "My father was in the room for this meeting? Are you sure?"
Trina's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Kestra. Yes, I'm sure."
"Endrick is lying!" Simon scowled. "He'll use Kestra's death as justification to invade Reddengrad. Basil might think he's protecting his country, but it will be the reason his country is destroyed!"
"None of this matters," Trina said. "We
'll get Kestra out of Woodcourt first. Obviously, we won't let her go through with this marriage."
"Basil was crying, the coward?" Simon kicked at the wall. "As if he should be pitied! What about Kestra's safety?"
"Listen to yourselves!" I shouted, then lowered my voice. "Do you have any idea how absurd this conversation is? Who are either of you to judge Basil?"
Simon and Trina fell silent. It obviously hadn't occurred to them that the three of us were not on the same side.
Simon spoke first. "Kestra, maybe things have changed since we came here."
"Or maybe things were never what we thought." I turned to Trina. "Are you a spy for the Halderians?"
Trina's eyes widened, to the point that even in this darkness I saw how suddenly large they had become. Silence followed my question, long enough and uncomfortable enough that I suspected she was working on swallowing her stomach again. Surely it had lurched into her throat.
Finally, she squeaked out, "I'm here for the Coracks! For Tenger!"
"Then explain how the Halderians know you," Simon said.
"Because of what that man said to me at the inn? I don't know him. But he did know Kestra. Why don't you ask her what he wanted?"
"We all know what he wanted with Kestra. To finish what he started the first time she was kidnapped, probably to kill her. When it came time to hide in the wall, you offered to stay out in the room. Why? Had you arranged for that meeting?"
Trina's laugh came from deep within her throat, and carried nothing but disgust. "I am not working for the Halderians!" Still addressing Simon, she pointed to me. "Whatever she's telling you, it's a lie! I promised Tenger that I would find the Blade for him, nothing more."
"For him?" I leaned forward. "Does Tenger want to be the Infidante?"
"Or the king?" Simon added. "Everyone knows Tenger wants more power."
Trina flinched and I asked her, "What do you get out of it? What did Tenger promise you?"
Trina shook her head. "I only want a place where I can belong, which both of you should understand. My father was loyal to the Dominion. In the War of Devastation, he fought for the Dallisors--fought for your father, Kestra--and ended up working here in the dungeons until he died of fever. I was never on the side of the Dominion. But still, his reputation has haunted me. I couldn't even get a meeting with Tenger, not at first. Then a year ago, I discovered my father's journals, which revealed the secrets of these dungeons. I brought them to Tenger, and he let me join the Coracks. We've been planning this mission ever since."