Chapter 7: Oaths
I wore a winding path along the edge of the valley and into the forest as the weeks slipped into months and spring sped along on dusky wings. One could almost forget a war was raging. Almost forget the troubles of the outside world. Almost.
I saw Dachs occasionally. More often I saw only his mark, carved into the trunk during the night. Sometimes there was even a letter. Eldric wrote once, in swift, jerky script. He was a scout in the army gathered to resist the rebels. They’d managed to press them south, but it was merely a matter of time before the rebels consolidated under their leader, a former servant of the King who’d been revealed only months before and barely escaped from Zahava.
The girls were safe with Mother Karlin. That was something to be thankful for. They looked for my coming every day. Eldric would find me, that much he promised. He was searching every moment he could, even if the map Dachs drew him led to nothing but more cliffs. The scout had promised to lead Eldric to me, but the war had so far swept away any time for such a trek. I clenched the smooth stone, pressing my fist to my lips. Closing my eyes I traced the worn gashes Dachs left in the tree trunk by the barrier. It was a week and a half since the last one. A week and a half.
What if he died? What if one day he was wounded and I never knew? Or if he lost whatever it was that allowed him to see and pass through the entrance?
I swallowed hard and turned away. Eldric, Dachs, the twins… I was stuck here. Useless. Helpless. When so much needed to be done. They needed me.
I clenched my jaw, striding into the warm afternoon sun. It was nearly summer now. The falcon I’d seen several times before was circling overhead again.
The beast straightened from the roses when I passed him. I didn’t glance his way. It was his fault, whatever he might say about the rose and some sort of power over this place. His fault he’d forced Eldric to stay. His fault I couldn’t leave after exchanging places with my brother.
I hesitated outside the door of the fortress, my hand on the open latch. Shadows veiled the crystal light, and I looked back.
The beast’s head was bowed as he bent over the flowers again. His movements were sure. Methodical. His scarred fingers brushed the petals gently.
He turned, glancing in my direction. Heat crept up my neck, and I hurried inside, slamming the door behind me. Leaning against it, I brushed my sweat-dampened hair from my face. Let the beast say what he pleased about love and loss. Any power could be broken, and I would break this one if it killed me.
I heard the wolves howling that night. Cold light danced over the ceiling, sending faint fractals in all directions. I turned away from the window, pulled my pillow over my head, and finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Gleaming eyes and snarling fangs invaded my dreams. Cold and ice. A bow in my hands and a cry on my lips. Figures, crumpled in the snow. Wolves circled round, snarling. Closer and still closer. A figure, lurking in the gloom of the forest. Another shadow rose, this one outlined in ragged fur while a great blade glittered in the moonlight.
The mansion was silent when I awoke. The day was gray, the faintest light reflecting from crystal to crystal.
I dressed and pulled aside the curtain. The valley was still and undisturbed. Muffling a sigh, I strode downstairs. The kitchen was empty when I entered, the ashes cold.
My brow furrowed as I pressed one hand against the doorframe. Biting my lip, my other hand slid to my dagger as I glanced over the room. After several months, we’d come to some sort of understanding, the beast and I. He made breakfast. I cared for lunch. Dinner was a combined work.
I slipped back to the corridor. “Hello?” There was no reply.
Of course, there was no reply. I scowled at myself and pulled a lamp from the wall. Muddy tracks led from the door and my frown deepened as I traced them to the dining hall.
The room was dark, but I froze. My gaze fastened on the figure slumped over the table. I crept closer, my feet whispering over the tiles.
The beast was asleep, his head resting in the crook of one arm, a quill hanging limply from his fingers. Parchments lay scattered about him, some empty, others full of scribbles, and a few graced with line after line of flowing script.
I scowled at myself as I rounded the table.
My breath caught at the streaks of blood staining his face. A triple row of deep scratches. Rusty brown smeared across the parchment and who knew what the new tears in his cloak hid? That cloak… something seriously needed to be done about its ragged state.
I darted to the kitchen and stirred up the fire. After heating water to a lukewarm temperature, I gathered bandages and ointments and slipped back into the dining room.
The beast’s regular breath stirred the parchments as I placed the bandages on the table and hesitated. Glancing once more at his face, I lifted a paper filled with writing and skimmed the now familiar script.
Who hath believed our report? The Oath of the King shall never fail.
My eyes narrowed.
His promise to those who rebelled will stand completed. The price shall be paid. The Prince will give it willingly; no enemy shall take it from him…
Still the King’s Oath. Did the beast think of nothing else? I picked up another parchment and another. The same words flowed over all of them.
From whence has it been heard, or who hath done such a thing? Yet the King shall grant His enemies this victory, and the Prince shall rise up to their defeat. Until the end, this word shall stand. Let him who hears believe and accept the payment the Prince offers freely to all.
I bit the inside of my cheek. The beast, of all people, should know the truth. Where was his King when the wolves attacked him, night after night? Where was the Prince? Where were They when the wolves—
The beast was studying me, unblinkingly.
I started and bit my lip to suppress a yelp.
“You were… asleep.” I glanced at the paper I held in my hand.
The beast straightened with a muffled groan, ran his fingers through his hair, then stared at the dark stains dried on his hand. Gingerly, he reached up to touch his face.
“Yes. You’ve managed to hurt yourself again.” I pulled his hand away and dragged the water across the table. He swept the parchments to one side, out of danger of the sloshing liquid, and gave me a quick glare.
“I’m being careful,” I protested. I squeezed out a rag. “More careful than you, apparently.” The levity fell from my voice as I dabbed at his face. “Wolves again?”
No. His quill scratched on the parchment, the penmanship flawless even though his head was tilted away. Just some mice looking for cheese.
I smothered a chuckle. “Why do you do it? Surely the castle is protection enough. Do you really have to stand out there, night after night?”
The beast stared at me until I turned my attention back to the gashes. “Well, there’s not much I can do. Keep your hand down. I’m sorry if it stings, but I’m being careful. It’s better than an infection. I could stitch them shut but…” I tilted my head. The beast raised his eyebrows with a snort.
“Yes.” I agreed with the look. “You’d never allow that, would you? So, where else?”
The beast glanced away.
I crossed my arms. “Tell me.”
With a sigh, he rolled up his sleeve, baring bloody fang marks.
My breath hissed between my teeth. “This is ridiculous. How long have you been fighting wolves?”
The beast’s lip twitched upward slightly. Two hundred and fifty years, more or less.
“Two hundred and fifty years,” I said. “Yet, you look no older than my brother.” My brows narrowed, then I shook my head. “What about these?” I gestured to the parchments. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen you writing.”
The beast’s expression closed over. His free hand scratched out five words.
It is the King’s Oath.
I rolled my eyes. “I know it’s the King’s Oath. Or is said to be the King’s Oath.
Though with legends, of course…”
My voice trailed off as the beast raised his eyebrows.
“Anyway.” I reached for the salve. “It’s just… it’s legend. The Oath of the King—the coming of the Prince. If it were true, really true, where has the King been all this time?”
Beneath my fingers, the beast tensed. I kept my focus on his arm, wiped my fingers clean and pulled out a bandage.
“On and on you go about the King’s love.” I pressed. “This Oath proves nothing. A pretty story, nothing more.” I raised my gaze, daring him to answer me. “Followers of the King have died for years. Now it is even worse. The war is advancing. The rebel came from His Own courts, or so the rumors go—yes, I do hear the rumors even here. Now would be an ideal time for the Prince to come, if he ever intends to.”
The beast’s lips parted, then pressed tightly and he looked away. I tied off the bandage. He rose stiffly to his feet. Steadying himself against the table, he swept the parchments into a pile and tucked them inside his tunic.
I brushed a strand of hair behind my ears. “You’re welcome.”
The beast blinked, then sighed, leaning both palms against the table, his head bowed. After a moment he straightened.
It’s not you. His fingers signed the words quickly. I’m just… he hesitated, leaving the phrase unfinished as he shook his head. Other matters have been occupying me.
“Here I was, worried I was upsetting you,” I said dryly. “As if you care what I think of you, or I care what you think of me. We are both prisoners here, is that it?”
The words stuck in my throat. He could leave. At least he claimed the ability and our full larders attested to the fact even if I never noticed any marked absence. Why did he stay?
The beast looked at me keenly.
I shrugged, glancing away. “As if I care. Though if you ever bothered to tell me what was really going on here…” I looked sideways at him. “Perhaps I could give you more aid against those thieving mice and let you know if I ever find a way to escape.”
The beast’s lip twitched and a low chuckle escaped his lips.
I scowled at him.
“You think it’s funny, do you? Cheese is very precious.”
The chuckle became a laugh, and I stared at the beast. An amused snort I was used to, but this? Never. Yet the beast’s eyes twinkled as they met mine, and his rolling laugh filled the room.
My lips curved upward until they broke into a wide grin then a laugh of my own. I bit my cheek, trying to stifle it. It wasn’t even that funny, but there was something about the beast’s mirth…
He smirked, sobering as he wagged a finger at me. We will suffer their minor nuisance for a short time longer, then all will be well.
“Really?” My smile faded. “All will be well?”
The beast’s eyes studied me for a long minute, then he nodded.
Yes. All will be well.
When would she see? She would see, he’d no doubt. But when?
He clasped his hands behind his back, staring into the polished surface as she emerged from the forest, angling her path toward the cave where he cured the wolf skins. She’d requested—demanded was more like it—the use of a few skins several weeks ago. She’d used many more than a few, but at least she’d not discovered his second cave.
His eyes shifted back to the forest. Sometimes she sat against a tree, staring through the invisible barrier. Other times he couldn’t see her at all.
His jaw clenched. She was in more danger than she knew. The price she would pay—the price he would pay before she realized the truth.
An ache wrapped around his chest and he drew a deep breath. Why should she care? For him? For any of it? Perhaps in another time, another place… Perhaps it was best. She’d be safer, this way. Safer, if she didn’t care.
The picture shifted to formless armies. The rebels had broken through. Again. Again halted. Again advancing. All summer they had pressed on, always moving northward. How many leagues away were they now? Thirty? Twenty?
They were close.
The last grains of time were dissolving away.