Stormcaster

  After all, Tully Samara sailed for Latham Strangward. Until he didn’t.

  18

  BACK FROM THE DEAD

  Adrian sul’Han and Lila Byrne took the North Road from Ardenscourt to the border at Marisa Pines Pass, finally traveling the way they’d planned, back in the fall, before their long and eventful winter in the Ardenine capital.

  Ash had accomplished his mission. The king of Arden was dead, and an alliance between Arden and the mysterious empress in the east had been averted, but this small triumph still tasted like ashes in his mouth. Given a choice, would he have traded Jenna’s death for King Gerard’s?

  He’d not been offered a choice, and what was done was done. He recalled an argument he’d had with his teacher, Taliesin Beaugarde, back at Oden’s Ford, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “The day will come that you’ll wish you were a better healer,” the Voyageur had said.

  “Teach me how to raise the dead,” he’d said, “and then we’ll talk.”

  He still believed that. Even the most skilled healer can only delay the inevitable. Eventually, they lose. Killers and healers both work the borderlands between life and death. The difference is that, at best, healing is a temporary victory. The dead stay dead.

  Their chosen road took them through Delphi, now ruled by a coalition of Delphian patriots. The town was swarming with travelers, so that it wasn’t easy to find a place to stay. The snows had been deep and relentless in late winter, and many travelers had stayed longer than they’d planned on, waiting for better weather. The city was in a bit of a hangover from its recent victory celebration, now grappling with the hard work of self-rule. There was still at least a salvo of Highlanders working with the fledgling Delphian army, but no one they knew.

  So, in the interest of speed and safety, Ash and Lila did not announce themselves. He preferred not to have his return to the queendom heralded by a bird from Delphi. His father had given him a message for his mother when he lay dying on the streets of Ragmarket. Ash felt like he owed it to his mother to deliver it in person. Lila, too, seemed eager to move on, so they pushed on north after spending just one night in the gritty mining town.

  The road north was crowded, too, in both directions. Families separated by the long occupation were taking advantage of the open border to visit relatives they hadn’t seen in decades.

  Security was still tight at the border crossing between Delphi and the queendom. The border officer seemed to know Lila, though, and so accepted her companion, Ash Hanson, a farrier from Tamron. Ash kept expecting to see someone he knew, worrying that he might be recognized, but it didn’t happen. He guessed he was scarcely recognizable as the bookish, solitary thirteen-year-old who’d disappeared after his father’s murder.

  As they climbed toward the pass, the air carried the sweet promise that spring would come. At lower altitudes, he saw maiden’s kiss and trout lily, buttercups and foamflowers and trillium. The names came back to him readily, as if he’d never been away. Who knew that the memory of flowers went so deep? Whenever they stopped to rest the horses, even Lila picked a few sprigs from the roadside. Who knew that Lila was fond of flowers?

  At higher altitudes, flowers became scarce, and eventually the trail changed from mud to beaten-down snow. The high pass was a tunnel of weeping ice that would freeze again with nightfall. Now, the wind blew down from Hanalea, carrying with it the lonely sound of howling wolves. Gooseflesh rose on Ash’s neck and arms.

  When the wolves walk, the queendom is in danger. That’s what the clan elders said.

  The wolves are always walking in this queendom, Ash thought.

  For once, Lila did more thinking than talking. Just past the top of the pass, she reined in and dismounted, then walked along the trailside, as if searching for something.

  “What are you looking for?” Ash looked down at her from atop his pony.

  “Here it is.” Lila dropped to her knees beside a half-buried stone marker. Using her gloved hands, she brushed snow away from it, then laid a small bunch of flowers on top.

  “What is that?”

  “My grandfather died here, defending your mother,” Lila said, coming to her feet and scrubbing snow off the knees of her breeches. “Your father found his body.”

  “That was here?” After Hanalea’s death, the queen had kept her other children close, so Ash had spent little time exploring the borderlands.

  She nodded. “I usually stop, whenever I come through here. I consider it a monument to foolish self-sacrifice.” Fitting her boot into the stirrup, she remounted her pony. “Let’s go.”

  As Ash and Lila descended into the Vale, the trail widened until it was more of a road. Ash was shocked by how much had changed. Many small farms had been abandoned, their buildings falling into disrepair. Though Gray Wolf banners still flew celebrating the Delphian victory at Solstice, some homes stood dark and empty, their windows as opaque as the eyes of the dead.

  “Too many houses, not enough people these days,” Lila said, following his gaze. “It’s hard to work the land with so many off fighting in the summers.”

  The Dyrnnewater was running high, fed by the melting snow, roaring down out of the mountains on her way to the sea. They crossed the river several times on arched stone bridges, freezing spray needling their faces.

  “Lila,” Ash said, “could I ask a favor?”

  “Depends.”

  “Just hear me out. When my father was murdered, it was like I turned into a different person. I did some things I’m not proud of.”

  “Look,” Lila said, “if you want absolution, go to a speaker or a priest. I’m hardly in a position to give you advice.”

  “I’m not asking for advice or absolution,” Ash growled. “I’m asking you to keep quiet about my being at Ardenscourt—all of that. I’d really like to go back to being Adrian sul’Han, aspiring healer. Just give me this, and I’ll owe you.”

  “You think you can shed your past like a set of scummery smallclothes?” Lila raised an eyebrow. “If I were you, I’d want to take credit. I won’t say a word, if that’s what you want, but you’d better come up with your own story about where you’ve been all this time.”

  Dirt turned to brick and cobblestones as they followed the Way of the Queens through the market districts of Southbridge and Ragmarket. Ash saw little on offer there—bags of barley, mostly, and rice from the Shivering Fens. Even the pawnshops and secondhand shops had little to display—most likely everything of value had been sold off long ago. Food was dear, though clan-made goods were less expensive than he remembered, reflecting the law of supply and demand.

  Ash was no longer the boy who had fled the Vale four years ago, driven by grief and guilt. He knew he shouldn’t expect to find the city that he remembered on his return. He had changed, and it made sense that the city would, too. His head told him that, but his heart wasn’t listening. The Vale he was returning to seemed smaller, shabbier, and sadder—the visible cost of five years of brutal war.

  They stowed their ponies at a livery outside of the castle close. Maybe he should find a place to stay, so he could bathe and get a good night’s sleep before he presented himself at court.

  You’re just stalling. The queen’s reaction to his return would have little to do with his appearance or state of hygiene. According to Lila, his mother had known he was alive, and at Oden’s Ford, all along. Yet she’d never reached out and tried to persuade him to come home.

  He’d prefer that Lila wasn’t there to see the reunion. He knew she would have something to say, now or later.

  “You don’t have to come with me right now,” Ash said as they approached the castle close. “If you want to get settled, or if you have other things to take care of, you—”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it,” Lila said, rolling her eyes. “If the queen is in her castle, no doubt my father will be there, too. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see what it looks like inside.”

  Ash stopped so quickly that Lila all but ran i
nto him. “You’ve never been to the palace?”

  “Well, I’ve been around the palace,” Lila said. “I’ve been in the stable yard and the gatehouse and the army barracks. I’ve been in quite a few inns and taverns and alleys.” She laughed at his expression. “Look, it’s not like my father wants to meet with his black sheep, smuggler, spy daughter in the palace or have me call on the queen. There are too many enemy eyes and ears there. It might have put the prince of the realm at risk, and we wouldn’t want that.”

  Ash, momentarily speechless, stared at her. I left of my own accord, he thought. But she’s been shut out by her own father because of the job she’d been assigned to do—nannying me.

  “I’m sorry, Lila,” he said simply. “I didn’t know.”

  “No worries,” she said. “I only have to see it once. My home is on the coast, with my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Besides, things have changed around here. You won’t get through the gates without me.”

  Lila had a writ from the Queen’s Guard that was enough to get them inside the walls of the close and across the drawbridge into the inner bailey. At the palace gate, they ran into a stone wall in the form of Ruby Greenholt.

  Ruby was a war orphan who’d been adopted by two of the queen’s most trusted Wolves—Pearlie Greenholt and Talia Abbott. Ruby and Ash had played together as children, since her parents often escorted the royal family when they traveled within the queendom.

  Ruby was as tall as Ash, but was still totally recognizable with her auburn hair pulled back onto the nape of her neck, her face nearly freckled over from the sun. When he’d left, she’d just been accepted into the elite Gray Wolves. Now a lieutenant’s scarf was knotted around her neck, so she must’ve done well. He stood there mutely, hands clenched, heart pounding in his throat, waiting to be recognized.

  But he wasn’t, at least not at first. Ruby was all business.

  “I know these are the queen’s public hours, but she’s not receiving anyone today,” Ruby said. “I don’t know whether she’ll be granting audiences anytime this week.” Looking them up and down, taking in their travel-worn appearance, she softened a bit. “It looks like you’ve been a long time on the road. I’m sorry if you’ve wasted a trip.”

  Lila hesitated, shooting a look at Ash as if to see if he wanted to speak up. When he didn’t, she said, “Tell her it’s Lila Barrowhill. I think she’ll remember my name.”

  Ruby shook her head. “Her Majesty said she was not to be disturbed, and so it doesn’t matter who you are.”

  “What about Captain Byrne?” Lila persisted. “Is he available? Tell him Lila is here and needs to see him.”

  She shook her head. “He’s in with the queen and some others, meeting with—they’re having a meeting,” she finished lamely. “If I disturb him, I’ll be disturbing the queen.”

  “Ruby,” Ash said softly. “Don’t you know me?”

  Their eyes met, with Ruby’s as hard and blank as an ice field. Then doubt crept into her face, followed by disbelief and a trace of fear. “By the Martyred Queens,” she whispered. “It can’t be—is it really . . . Adrian?”

  “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s me. I am so glad to see you alive and well.”

  “Me? You’re glad to see me alive?” Ruby’s voice was rising. She gripped the front of his coat and fingered the rough fabric, patted him on the cheek with her rough palm. “Blood and bones! You feel real enough. You’re so tall, and thin, and—that head of hair! Are you risen from the dead in our hour of need or what?”

  Adrian shook his head, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Not exactly. I am alive, and it’s a long story, but right now I would very much like to see my mother.”

  “Follow me,” Ruby said, turning and striding off down the hallway so that Ash had to trot to keep up. As they twisted and turned down the corridors, it was like revisiting the time-blurred setting of a childhood dream, the spaces narrower and smaller and plainer than he remembered.

  Lila trailed along behind them, shifting her eyes from ceiling to floor, peering down cross corridors.

  “It’s not as fancy as I thought it would be,” she murmured. “I guess I’ve gotten used to the palace at Ardenscourt.”

  Really? Ash thought. I never got used to that place.

  When they reached the familiar door that led to the queen’s audience chamber, Ruby pounded on it. And then, as if she couldn’t wait for a response, she wrenched it open, to be met by a snarling brace of the queen’s Gray Wolf guards.

  They quit snarling when they saw it was Ruby, but they didn’t step out of the way. “Greenholt!” one of them said. “You heard the morning orders. What the hell are you doing?”

  “Just . . . fetch Captain Byrne,” Ruby said.

  But the captain was already on his way. The commander of the Queen’s Guard was leaner and grayer than before, though his eyes were as sharp as they ever were.

  “I told you we were not to be disturbed, Lieutenant,” he growled. “For any reason.”

  “Sir,” Ruby said, then looked beyond him, into the room. “Your Majesty. It—it—it—”

  “Captain Byrne,” Lila said, oddly formal to be speaking to her father. “We’re back.”

  They stared mutely at each other for what seemed like a long time. Then Byrne pulled Lila into a hard embrace. “Sweet Lady of Grace,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

  Without waiting for an introduction, Ash stepped around Ruby and fully into the room, where two guards seized hold of him.

  He spotted his mother immediately, sitting by the fire, a glass of wine cradled between her hands. Like nearly everything else, she looked smaller than he remembered. Her face was drawn and sad, and she was dressed all in a sooty black that absorbed the light. Was it possible she’d never left off mourning colors? He recognized Aunt Mellony, dressed all in black as well, and Micah Bayar, looking grim and grave, but then that was his default. And, next to him, that must be Cousin Julianna. He took another look around, to make sure. No. Lyss wasn’t there.

  Hearing the commotion at the door, his mother stood and craned her neck, peering at them.

  “Hello, Mother,” Ash said, his voice echoing through the suddenly silent hall. “I’m back, and I am so very sorry.”

  19

  ONE-ON-ONE

  The blood left his mother’s face as if she were, in fact, seeing a ghost. She lost hold of the glass in her hand and it fell, scattering shards of glass and droplets of blood-red wine all around her feet. Planting her hands on the arms of her chair, she stood. She took one step toward him, then another, her boots crunching on the glass, her arms outstretched, palms up. “Hanalea’s blood and bones,” she whispered. “It can’t be—is it really you?” Her expression mingled hope and dread, as if she didn’t dare believe the evidence of her eyes. All around her, the faces of the council members were like spots of suspicion and doubt.

  Strange. From what Lila had said, his mother and Captain Byrne had known all along that he was alive and hiding out in Oden’s Ford. But this reaction was more like . . . like she’d actually thought he was dead.

  Aunt Mellony stood, also, her face even paler than usual, pointing a shaking hand at Ash. “It’s a trick, Raisa,” she said. “A despicable Ardenine trick. There’s a resemblance, I’ll admit, but—”

  His mother shook her head, raising a hand to hush her sister, her eyes still fixed on his face.

  He wanted to rush forward, to embrace her, so that she could feel that he was living flesh and blood, but the guards still had hold of him, waiting for some signal from their queen. Anyway, that was her move to make. He couldn’t blame her if she ordered him out of the queendom he’d abandoned for so long.

  All at once, it was as if the wall of doubt came down. His mother leapt forward, closing the distance between them, and flung her arms around him as the two guards hastily released him and stepped back.

  “They said you were dead,” she murmured, her forehead pressed against his chest. H
er entire body was trembling, trembling, and so thin that she seemed fragile, even though he knew she was all muscle and bone. “When I—when I thought I’d lost you, too, I was closer to despair than I’ve ever been.”

  “I’m sorry,” Adrian said, over and over. And, sometimes, “I’m so sorry.” Wishing he could put more power into the words.

  Finally, she took a step back. Coming up on her toes, she put her hands on either side of his face, exploring the bone structure with her fingers. “When did you get so tall—and so sad?”

  “I . . . need to explain . . . where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing . . . all this time,” he said awkwardly.

  “And you will,” his mother said, pulling him close again. “Right now, I just want to hold on to you.”

  In the background, he could hear Captain Byrne barking orders. One of them must have been to clear the room, because everyone disappeared, except for a handful of Wolves, including Ruby. They stayed close, keeping a close eye on Ash until Captain Byrne ushered the two of them into the small reception room attached to the queen’s private suite.

  Byrne hesitated in the doorway. “It’s good to have you home again, Prince Adrian.”

  “Prince Adrian” hit Ash’s ear wrong. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that. Besides, he’d never really thought of himself as a prince—just the son of a queen, and the brother of the heir to the throne. He’d used so many names since he left home that none of them seemed quite right.

  Byrne turned to the queen. “I’ll give the two of you some privacy. Is there anything else you need?”

  In a way, Adrian dreaded the idea of privacy, terrified as he was of a heart-to-heart. He had no defense to offer, no excuse for what he’d done, and now he was getting ready to lie about it again.

  “What about Lyss?” he said, asking what seemed an obvious question. “She should be here. I need to apologize to her. I made her a promise, and I’ve really let her down.”