The Soulstoy Inheritance (7 page)

“Did they say anything about Harbringer? Why only the terms of my trial?” I was half-hopeful that they might have discredited blame on Harbringer’s part, possibly assuming that I had compelled him.

Every eye turned to the nameless messenger, who now housed a look akin to an animal staring down the bolt of a crossbow.

“I… ah… they only mentioned you, Your High—er, Lady Beatrice.”

I sighed. “I’ll assume that’s a good thing… for now.”

I looked back to what progress I had managed to make with Red Ridge. “I’ve done what I can here for today, but you mentioned something about the Raven River, Grenlow?”

“The water runs poisoned. It isn’t something that can be done with Force. Someone has to be manually altering it, with or without power. Since it’s still usable in Kingsbed, it’s safe to assume that the culprit is working out of Ravenport. It is not an unlikely assumption, considering that most of the kingdom’s river trade operates through Ravenport. The docks run along the entire eastern perimeter of the city.”

I grappled with that information, knowing that he was right from what I remembered of the map Marlean had given me. And then another thing occurred to me.

“Grenlow, who the hell do you trade with?”

He coloured, and I got the distinct impression that he had slipped up, offering me a piece of information that he hadn’t meant to. Cereen—along with Rohan, this time—appeared insulted merely by the nature, or perhaps the tone of my question.

“Grenlow?” I prompted.

“Some trade is done with the Read Empire,” he offered.

I knew that he was distracting me from insisting he tell me the rest of it, but I didn’t care, because I
was
distracted.

“Is that a joke? The two kingdoms have been at war for the entirety of my life!”

“Nareon and Fenrel had an understanding, apparently.” Harbringer spoke, causing Grenlow to flush with obvious anger now.

But whatever he felt, I was sure it didn’t come close to my own rage.

“Nareon!” I yelled.

Nothing.

“
God dammit
!” I kicked at a rotting piece of steel that poked up through the ground and moved to storm off, before managing—by some miracle—to curb the childish instinct.

I closed my eyes, forcing my raging emotions to calm, and called out to him again, this time in my mind.

Nareon
. The word sounded calm, coaxing even.

“Twice in one day.” Came the silky reply. “I confess it pleases me to be so needed, Spitfire.”

I snapped my eyes open and found him right before me, closer than he usually appeared. It momentarily stole my breath, being so close to him again, under the scrutiny of grey eyes so full of secrets; I barely even believed he was really there.

Taking a bracing step backwards, I suddenly found my anger fading away. Only a few moments ago, I had wanted to scream at him, to punish him for once again hiding something important from me. But now… now I felt nothing.

“If you can disappear and reappear at will, as you certainly aren’t supposed to…” I spoke with a calm voice, beginning to pace without lifting my eyes from the ground, “how can I be sure that it wasn’t all you, Nareon?”

I looked up briefly, satisfied by the surprise in his eyes. “How do I know it wasn’t you that killed Fenrel, for reasons of your own—or my father, to teach me a lesson?”

The surprise melted from his face, and in its place was something harder, something that Nareon had never shown me before.

“Tell me something, Beatrice.” He stalked forward, until we were toe-to-toe. “Do you think I would lie for you?”

“Yes…” My answer was hesitant, but not because I wasn’t sure. I simply didn’t understand why he had asked the question.

“Do you think I would kill for you?”

I saw it then. His bloodied hands as he cradled me against him, controlling his own murderous rage just at the knowledge that someone had hurt me.

“Yes.” My voice had begun to shake, and I knew that what I said next would hurt him even more, but I had to say it. “I don’t think that would be a stretch for you, Nareon.”

He smiled as if I had made a joke.

“Do you think there are bounds to what I would do for you?” He jabbed a finger at my chest and for a frightening moment, I imagined that I could actually
feel
the touch.

I waved my hand in a movement that might have been intended to swipe away his arm, but only sifted through him and shot a numbing coldness up to my elbow.

“That isn’t what I doubt about you, Nareon. What I doubt is your skewed perception of what I need, or what might help me. You would never hurt me personally, but what you don’t understand is the empathy I have for all the other people you
would
hurt.”

He made a face, as if this thought displeased him.

“If I had wanted to kill Fenrel, I wouldn’t have hit him over the head with a book, I’d have lopped his head clean off. And your father…” His eyes narrowed, becoming two darkening, golden-grey slits set into his perfectly vicious face. “I would have killed him years ago, when he made off with Caroline.”

I let out a rush of air I hadn’t even realised that I had been holding, and tears rose unbidden to my eyes. I felt his pain, it ripped through me just as it was ripping through him.

I’m sorry,
I thought, not knowing if he could hear me or not, but unable to voice the words through the sudden tightness that worked my throat.
I’m so sorry, Nareon.

His eyes immediately softened, the change as instant as it usually was with him. He reached out, his hand hovering by my face, a whisper of coldness on my cheek, and then he was gone.
Without me willing it
.

Chapter Five

A Glass of Tears to Dispel Your Fears

We decided that Ravenport would have to wait, and returned to the castle close to midnight. I fought the urge to send for Cale immediately, knowing that he would return on the morrow. Hoping to avoid sleep a little longer, I hunted down Gretal, who seemed to be in relatively good spirits as soon as she satisfied herself that the bandage on my arm was nothing to worry about.

She led us to one of the higher floors in Nareon’s castle, and into blessedly unfamiliar quarters. Mine housed a connecting sitting room, bedchamber, dressing room and bathing chamber. The sitting room connected each of the other three rooms, with the bedchamber at the rear, overlooking the same side of the castle grounds as Nareon’s glass tower-room. The bathing chamber was to the right, and connected to Gretal’s own chambers; and the sitting room was to the left, with a secret door connecting to a passage that led into Harbringer’s chambers. It was more than I needed, but I was grateful nonetheless, because they weren’t Nareon’s rooms. That would have been too much to bear.

I allowed Gretal to draw a bath, and pulled off my clothes, trying not to be self-conscious as she forced me into the tub and started scrubbing the dirt from my skin and from beneath my nails.

“You know, I can actually bathe myself,” I told her, after she dumped a pail of warm water over my head.

She tittered, and began massaging some sweet-smelling lotion into my scalp, which had me quickly dispelling any of my previous objections. Once I was clean, my faintly golden skin scrubbed raw, she towel-dried me and dressed me in an atrocity of a shift, with impractical lace edging, and material so silky it rather felt as though I still turned about the warm water of the bath. I was past resisting by this stage, however.

She brushed out my hair, exclaiming over it the entire time, and then looped it into a loose braid before turning down my bed and leaving me. I stared at the bed, shaking my head in bewilderment, and then sat on the edge as the sound of a door clinking softly from the dressing room announced Harbringer’s presence.

He strode into the room, seemingly surprised to see me out of my boyish, dirty clothing, and then proceeded to simply stare at me until I cleared my throat. His eyes snapped up to mine, and I got up again, rummaging around in the dressing room until I found a coat, which I slipped around my shoulders.

He laughed. “I’ve seen you in less than that, Harrow.”

“You were my professor then, Harbringer.”

He tilted his head, considering that, and then moved to one of the armchairs beside my bed, inviting himself to sit down.

“I came to see how you were doing. We haven’t had a chance to talk since the latest Nareon episode.”

“Seems like a good thing to call it.”

“Because it happens often?”

“Because I have no idea what else to call it. I rarely argued with Nareon when he was alive. He’d just compel me, or kiss me. Though the two were essentially the same thing.”

Harbringer’s face went still, deceptively blank, as it usually did when I alluded to the way I had drawn energy from Nareon to survive.

“When will you have to visit the feeders?” he asked the floor.

“I don’t know. I’ve used a lot of power over the last few days. I don’t think I would feel safe lifting my glamor again after today, but I can hold off for a while.” I thought of something then, and added, “Why didn’t you tell me that I was golden last night?”

His stiffness faded away, and he passed a hand over his face, his attention still directed downwards.

“I’m developing a new theory about you, Bea.”

“It’s not good, is it?”

“Depends how you look at it. I doubt you will look at it favourably.”

“Very well. Tell me.”

He smiled the slightest bit, and raised his eyes to mine again. “You’ve gotten considerably more commanding since Nareon’s death, did you know that?”

“Is that your theory?” I asked, confused.

“No. My theory is that while you don’t actively compel people, you still draw them in, even without using your power. It’s something I couldn’t have understood before, because I had never been around a large group of synfees before without trying to kill them. I wouldn’t call it a power exactly… but in the same breath, if it isn’t a power, I don’t know what it is.”

I felt as if he had punched me right in the gut, and a hiss of air left my lungs, while the shame burned hot on my face. I immediately began to question everything, and every
one
. I thought of Cale… who had befriended me on the whim of a teacher, but who had stuck by me of a will seemingly his own, despite the oddness of such a decision. And
Hazen
…

I wish I knew which feelings were mine,
he had said once. It seemed a lifetime ago, but the words had branded me.

I stumbled back a step, and then another.

“Where are you going, Harrow?”

“How bad do you think it is?” I asked softly, not meeting Harbringer’s eyes as I constructed a careful barrier around my thoughts and feelings, something I rarely did.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. He had stood.

“Harrow… whatever you’re thinking, it’s not right. Sit down so we can talk about it, I don’t like that look on your face.”

I continued to step back, until the door to my sitting room hit my back, and then I slid my hand against the wood until I found the handle, still maintaining a tight hold over my mind.

“I think I’ll go for a walk.” I marvelled at how calm my voice sounded. “Go to sleep, Harbringer.”

I didn’t wait for his reply, I pushed the door open, slipped through the doorway and closed it securely behind me. I then locked it and pocketed the key for good measure, before stalking to the door that led into the hallway and pushing that one open too. The hallway was blessedly empty, and I took off at a run, tearing toward the staircase, my footfalls blessedly light, and mostly silent as I half ran, half leapt the too-many staircases that it took me to reach the ground floor. I startled a servant then, who had been dusting a bust on one of the side-tables along the wall. She dropped her duster, and then stared at me open-mouthed, her gaze snapping from my bare feet to my shift, on clear display despite the coat I wore, which I hadn’t yet bothered to button.

I turned my back on her and sped off in the other direction, causing two more servants to jump hastily from my path. When I burst outside into the garden, the first sob tore through my throat, but I kept pushing, running as far as the garden would take me until I came up against the castle walls. I suddenly hated the way they boxed me in. I ran alongside the obtrusion until I found a ladder, providing an escape into the empty night beyond the solidness of my castle confinement. It was freezing atop the wall. The wind whipped my coat against my legs and bit through the thinness of my shift to rattle my bones; but I had an uninterrupted view of the short stretch of bare land to the west, leading to the opposite bank of the Raven River. I now knew it to originate somewhere beyond the western mountains before splitting right through the center of Castle Nest to the breakwall shared by Kingsbed. From there, it spilled into Ravenport, its eastern shore.

The glittering black movement of the water reminded me uncomfortably of the colour of Harbringer’s eyes, and so I spun, glaring out over the muted lights of the kingdom instead. It was a sparse kingdom compared to the splendor of the Read Empire; the rudimentary roughness of the people had spread to the land, it seemed. There was a savage beauty to the jagged mountains, which sliced through the sky and whispered of a surrounding wildness; and an eerie beauty to the river, creeping along, permeating each of the settlements with its winding fingers. The lights twinkled with false invitation, illuminating chimneys and faces within windowsills, propped doors and twisted shadows along twisting paths. Among it all, the monsters waited.

“A kingdom of evil,” I spat, “and I’m one of them.”

I began to run again, sprinting along the edge of the wall. The stones were cold beneath my bare feet, the chill drawing me nearer to a square battlement tower. A surprising lack of soldiers were on patrol along the battlement, I wondered if it were odd that I had not come across a single patrol since exiting the castle. Reaching the tower, I shouldered the door open and stumbled into a flurry of surprised activity. Three men had been sitting at a table, playing a game of cards by the look of it, though they had all been so startled by my sudden entrance that the table had tipped over as they jumped to their feet, one of them going as far as to draw his sword.