Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (49 page)

Tom pulled himself through the window, landed heavily on his feet, and charged through the Gatholith District, desperately glancing over his shoulder at Claire. I lost sight of him in seconds. He knew the area, knew which streets were the busiest, and while no one purposely obstructed Claire's path, they didn't move out of her way, either.

With Claire no longer at my side, the people of Red Pine took notice of me. It was hard not to catch their attention with a guard's spear between my hands, and I drifted over to Akela, steel-tipped spear dragging along the street.

She wasn't restraining Tom's mother. She had her hands on her shoulders, but she wasn't holding the woman back. There was no point; she couldn't do anything for him now. Rather, Akela seemed to be comforting her, nodding along as she stuttered, “Y-you've got to believe me, C-Commander. Came r-right back here, he did, the moment it was d-done. They—they
tricked
him i-into it, Tom, he's—he's always been good, always helped me out,” between sobs.

“Yes, yes. Your son, he is being used by these people. We are understanding the situation. The man who makes your son do this, he is already within the castle, and soon, he is being executed,” Akela said, and for a moment, the woman was able to lift her chin. There was justice in Ianto's death, but his execution was to be paired with her son's.

“Commander,” Claire said gravely. She'd caught up with Tom and dragged him back, one hand gripping his arm He stood with his shoulders hunched, not looking at his mother, lest he burst into tears, and I saw that he was young, much younger than I was. He couldn't have been older than seventeen, and yet he'd spread so much hurt and turmoil through the Kingdom.

But more than that, I saw that he was scared; that he was sorry for what he'd done.

It didn't make the blindest bit of difference. Akela put his wrists in shackles, and Tom couldn't reach out as his mother tried to hold him one last time. He was going to be punished for what he'd done, no matter how regret roiled inside of him, because there was no taking it back, no making it better.

Not for people like him.

“Listen, ma, I'm sorry, I thought, thought...” Tom mumbled to the ground as Akela put his wrists in chains. “They told me it'd
help
Kastelir, t-that it was the only way for the people to be free, and...”

His mother wailed too loudly for his words to reach her. It was the only thing I ever heard him say, but his voice stuck with me as the people the Gatholith District filled the streets, shoulder to shoulder. No one approached us, no one said anything, but the threat was implicit; they had the numbers to strike us down, if they so chose to live with the consequences. I wondered whether they'd be more or less likely to come upon us like a tidal wave if they knew why we were marching one of their own back to the castle.

I'd witnessed Claire and Akela both do things that had been difficult for them, and though I knew they took no pleasure in taking Tom to the castle, I found it hard to fall into step with them. The people of Isin narrowed their eyes at me, and the spear in my hands became part of me; it was all they saw, and only there to be brandished against them.

Kastelir may have been formed on the ruins of war, and Isin may have sprung from the rubble left behind, but it had not thrived for long. The country wasn't crumbling apart, not in the way that Felheim would have us believe it was, but there was something palpably stale in the atmosphere, something I was only just noticing. The Kingdom was held together by its own ideals, but it yearned for change.

I didn't agree with what the rebels had done. I didn't forgive Tom for what he'd done to King Jonas, no matter how his mother had sobbed. But I understood the force that drove them; I understood wanting to be listened to. Still, I could never voice such a thing out loud. Claire needed the help of King Atthis and Queen Kidira, and with what had happened to King Jonas, the aid she needed was further and further out of reach. Every day, lords, ladies, lieges and people with all sorts of vague claims to power were arriving in the capital, vying for their place on the throne.

The armour Claire wore forced her to blend in with the other guards. It would be all too easy to overlook her in favour of more urgent matters. Matters that didn't start with dragon's breath and lead directly to war.

I looked up at the castle, not knowing whether it seemed bigger from the inside, or out here, in the streets. I didn't believe I was the person that had come all the way here, who had stood face-to-face with a dragon, and I didn't believe that I was comfortable, residing in a castle; the Isiners looked at me with the same sort of contempt the villagers once had, and I was back in my own past.

I could feel their thoughts lashing out at me. I was like Claire and Akela, as far as they were concerned, and the uniform they wore meant they embodied the cracks in Kastelir's foundation. I handed the spear back to Claire, as soon as we were through the gate and Tom was in the custody of the guards, and walked with my head down, eyes fixed on the white stone of the bridge beneath my feet.

“Rowan,” Claire called, catching up to me. I stopped when she placed her hand against the back of my arm, and though my gaze didn't break away from the edge of the bridge, she leant close enough for me to see her frown. “That was... a necessity, I am afraid. Manipulated or otherwise, he has to answer for what he did.”

“That's not—”
That's not it
, I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't put what
it
was into words. Instead, I shook my head and said, “I understand. The King and Queen have to trust you, don't they? So if this is what you have to do now—I guess we'll be staying in Isin for a bit longer, won't we?”

Claire hadn't expected me to say that, but her surprise softened into something like gratitude.

“This won't be easy, and it won't be over soon,” she said. “I would not have caught up to him had I believed letting him escape would've been just.”

I did my best to smile at her, and said, “You'd better go.”

The castle doors were pushed open, and Akela led Tom inside, guards flanking him, lest he try to dive into the moat.

“Indeed,” Claire agreed, stepping away, pausing. “If I have to remain in a foreign castle, I am glad I have you by my side.”

She nodded firmly once she'd spoken the words, confirming that they sat well with her, in whatever ways they'd altered between her thoughts and what had left her lips.

She headed into the castle before I could reply.

Before I could tell her that I was glad to be with her, too, even if I felt no more comfortable in a castle where nobody knew who I was than a village where everyone's thoughts darkened towards me.

The day before, funeral bells rang out across Isin.

That morning, Isin was alive with a swell of cheer, music rising from every street corner. People had hung the last of the decorations days ago, but it wasn't until the morning of the Phoenix Festival that the colours came to life. The oranges and golds of the banners contended with the beat of the sun, and the clear blue sky ushered in the end of Etha.

“You sure you want to be heading down there, yrval?” Kouris asked me as we crossed the bridge, and not for the first time.

“I'm sure. There won't be anything like...
you know
until the last day, will there?” I said, taking her hand, lest she turn back. “Besides, I haven't seen you properly in forever.”

“Aye. There's been no shortage of things to do around the castle, I'll tell you that much,” Kouris said, gesturing for the guards to open the gates. “Too bad about your dragon-slayer. Reckon Kidira's got her doing twice as much work as anyone else to prove herself.”

I hummed in agreement, but hadn't taken it too badly. The Phoenix Festival might've been over in day, back in my village, but in Isin it stretched on for three. There was always tomorrow for me and Claire. She had no choice but to watch over the festivities within the castle, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity to delve into the heart of Isin with Kouris by my side.

People arrived from all over Kastelir to celebrate in the capital, and Isin's streets were awash with citizens and visitors alike. They all wore orange and gold, if only in the ribbons twisted in their hair. Tables longer and wider than the one in the castle's banquet hall were set up in open squares, interspersed with marquees and makeshift stages. At the festivals I'd attended, entertainment had been limited to song and dance, all of it revolving around the exodus from the Bloodless Lands.

In Isin, everyone was trying their hand at a performance of their own. Voices boomed from within tents and around fountains, filling the air with speech and song, and as we wandered towards Asos Square, the biggest open area in all of Isin, I heard people sing of the days of war, of lost loves and famed thieves. Asos housed a park littered with statues of people I didn't recognise, and the largest marquee of all stood in the centre. Through the crowds, I saw dozens upon dozens of red lanterns within, ready to be sent up into the sky once night fell.

“Didn't exactly have time to be getting you anything,” Kouris said, gesturing to the stalls covered in trinkets all around us. “Anything you like the look of?”

For the first time, I took in what people were doing. Those sitting on benches or in the grass were handing each other neatly-wrapped gifts, and the people on their feet were being dragged between the stalls.

“I didn't know giving gifts was a thing. We didn't do it in my village. Is it like this everywhere? Everywhere big?”

“Reckon so,” Kouris said, hand on my back. She steered me towards a handful of merchants trying to raise their voices over the din, having no trouble parting the crowd and securing us a spot in front of the carts.

There was certainly a theme. Wooden phoenixes, from the size of my fist to the size of Kouris', were placed in rows around small metal goods; letter openers with engraved handles, pocket watches with feathers cast on the case, pendants encircling golden flames and talons; quills dyed orange and gold, and the bronzed beaks of eagles and hawks. The Isiners spared no expense when it came to the Phoenix Festival.

“What've you got your eye on, yrval?” Kouris asked, crouching down so that her chin was on my shoulder.

“I thought, perhaps...” I murmured, fingertips ghosting over one of the pendants.

“
Ah
,” Kouris said, and I felt the tip of her ear twitch against my cheek. “Aye, this is definitely more to the dragon-slayer's liking.”

I hurried to pick out the necklace that'd caught my eye, hoping my face wasn't burning. A small, silver feather hung from a thin chain, and when I held it out to the merchant who'd been watching me so eagerly that he hadn't thought to be wary of Kouris, he said, “An
excellent
choice, young miss. We don't have another like it.”

It was unique amongst all the stall had to offer, but there must've been a dozen or two replicas strewn throughout the city. He wrapped it in a thin square of orange cloth, tentatively taking the coins Kouris held between her claws. I was confident in my choice, until the necklace was tucked away in my pocket. Instantly, I knew it wasn't good enough, not when Claire already had her sigil for a pendant.

I did my best to forget about it, fingers betraying me by brushing against my pocket every few minutes to ensure I hadn't dropped it, and lost myself in the crowds as best I could, with a pane for company. Heat from the carts of street vendors tasked with feeding hundreds mingled with all the people milling around us, and though there was already sweat on my brow, I couldn't have been happier.

I'd let myself believe the worst of Isin, but the people had pulled together for the festival, and were intent on doing nothing but smile and share gifts. Down in the city, it didn't matter who wore the crown, or how many empty seats there were in the throne room. Without the spear in my hand, nobody paid me any heed. Not when they could stare at Kouris instead. I became part of the buzz and flow of the city, so far removed from my own life that only then could I feel how grateful I truly was for Claire taking me away and for Kouris staying by my side.

I took hold of her arm again, using my free hand to eat the skewed chicken we'd bought.

“You know, the first Phoenix Festival – first one in Kastelir, that is – wasn't quite this big. Definitely not as fancy,” Kouris said, pausing to wrap her tongue around her skewer and pull meat from it. She'd got a triple helping, all of it raw, and for some reason, it'd taken twice as long to prepare as anything cooked. “The castle wasn't finished then, not completely. Everyone was pulling together to get Isin built up and up—it was a way to be uniting the former territories through hard work, and so we all went out into the city. Me, Kidira, Jonas and Atthis. We had our guards, don't be doubting that, but we hardly needed them. Everyone was so hopeful, back then. So glad to be done with the war that they were willing to put a lot behind them. We ended up having a picnic, right here in Asos. The Kings and Queens, sitting in the grass and eating with bakers and builders and butchers.”

Kouris smiled as she spoke, wistful, in her own way, but not about to turn from the present. Food finished, I wrapped both arms around one of hers, nudging her out the thick of the crowd, to a line of low benches, set up in front of a stages. We sat and watched a man juggling knives, sunlight glinting off the edge of the blades to remind us how sharp they were. What it had to do with phoenixes I couldn't say, but I watched regardless, holding my breath on behalf of the performer.

“We never had anything like this in my village. Never had much of anything, but I think the elders would've fainted if we'd tried something so dangerous. Everyone got together in the village hall for a big meal – a
big
meal, it took most of the day – and then we'd go out into the streets and send up lanterns and sing whatever songs we hadn't already sung between mouthfuls,” I said. It was hardly the stuff of Queens and Kingdoms, but Kouris looked at me as I spoke, ears perking up. My experience was more important to her than whatever show was being put on, and I let myself speak freely. “I always liked the stories about the phoenixes rallying together to help the Myrosi people—coming all the way from Canth, even. A lot of the songs made it sound as though the phoenixes had just been tamed, like ravens, but Michael told a few stories where the phoenixes had... chosen their own names, and decided to fight for themselves.