Dragonoak (46 page)

“Thank
the gods,” she said with a trembling laugh. “Oh, dear me. Listen to
that. I really was in Canth for far too long.”

Claire
was far from moved by her open display of emotion.

“Galal
ought to be with us momentarily,” Claire assured Atthis, and turned
to Katja, saying, “And as for you, Katja, the guards shall escort
you to the prison.”

Katja's
expression didn't darken, but every tense muscle in my body
unwound. Claire believed me. She'd seen Katja at her best and chose
to believe me regardless.

“Please, Marshal. My name is
Kouris.
N
obody calls me Katja,” she said calmly, forgetting the tears
she'd just shed for her mother. “And might I ask why?”

“You are
more than aware of what you've done,” Claire returned.

Sighing,
Katja propped her jaw up on her fist and said, “Well, of course I
am. I suppose there's no getting around that much; and indeed,
there is no denying what I did, or excusing it. But I should like a
chance to speak for myself, if I may.”

“You
might,” Claire said. Had she taken half a second longer to reply, I
would've beaten her to it; I would've demanded to hear her out,
desperate to know how she'd lie to defend herself.

“It's plain to see how much you've endured in our absence,
Marshal. Before returning to Asar, we didn't dare to imagine that
you might be alive. We certainly couldn't have fathomed all that
you've suffered through in order to survive, and I doubt we may
never understand the true extent of it. In the same way, you have
no clear understanding of what
I
have been through.

“I was
forced to leave my home burning behind me. I found myself in a land
without money, without connections; I didn't even speak the
language. All I had was the constant, gnawing knowledge that those
I loved – my mother, my friends – were dead, and that I ought to
have remained behind in the same way they did.

“Naturally, it got a little better, in time. I began to
understand my surroundings, found people I considered family, and
worked as a healer to pay my way. Yet all I knew was that the
people of Kastelir,
my
people, were suffering. Suffering at the hands of Felheim;
the hands of my fiancé's family.

“Surely I should've been able to do something. I had spent
plenty of time within Thule, and... and the last time I visited,
Marshal, Alexander had seemed so
distracted
. Goodness. At the time, I
thought he was having second thoughts, though he assured me nothing
was wrong. But of course, it's so clear now; it was your absence,
wasn't it? I never did get to meet the sister he spoke so fondly
of.

“I lost
myself somewhere along the way, Marshal. Lost myself in the blame
I'd convinced myself I deserved, and acted atrociously. Desperate
times, and whatnot. I only ever did what I believed would help
Kastelir—these four territories, rather. It has never truly been
about me.”

None of us spoke, none of us looked at each other. None of us
took our eyes off Katja, and I knew of no way to scream that she
was lying, lying,
lying;
every word she said was the truth. I didn't doubt
that she believed every last syllable that slipped from her tongue.
When I was chained to her stove, it wasn't about
me
, either; it was about
what I could do, and how that power could be harnessed to save
Kastelir.

Claire's
expression didn't change throughout any part of Katja's story. Not
even when she mentioned Prince Alexander.

“A
touching tale, but you still engaged in torture,” Claire replied
bluntly. “To speak nothing of murder.”

“I did,” Katja admitted, swallowing the lump in her throat.
It was all wrong; why wasn't she denying it, claiming that I'd lost
myself in a darker way than she had? Without taking her eyes off
Claire, she raised a hand and pointed at me. “Then how is it that
you're so freely excusing
her
actions?”

I
stepped back, mistaking her finger for a blade.

“Rowan
acted in self-defence,” Claire said plainly, not needing to point
out that her death hadn't been of the permanent sorts.

“Oh,
goodness. She hasn't told you, has she?” Katja said, utterly
delighted. Her lips curled into something more sinister than any
smile she'd offered up thus far, and I wanted to cling to the front
of her shirt, to cover her mouth with my hand and keep it there, no
matter how she bit and bit. “I do wonder how many secrets she's
keeping from you.”

“Hasn't told me
what
?” Claire asked, impatience
finally seeping through.

“How
do
you
think we bartered for passage back to Felheim? You're a smart
woman, Marshal. You must know that it would never have been a
matter of gold,” Katja said, pausing to hide her smile beneath her
fingers. “She murdered someone and delivered the head to Queen
Nasrin herself. Assassination on behalf of royalty is still
assassination.”

Nothing
was said. Katja's words hung in the air, and Claire couldn't find a
way to reply to her. I watched Katja spill what I'd tried to make
into a secret, powerless to stop her. What could I have done? Leapt
on her and beat silence into her? I'd illustrate whatever point she
wanted to make better than she could ever hope to.

Eventually, Claire managed to say, “It is not my
responsibility to punish crimes committed in Canth,” setting her
jaw the moment she realised what she'd said.

“Exactly,” Katja said, pleased.

Claire
didn't falter again.

“Very
well. I see you've delighted in making your point,” she said. “I
shall have accommodation set aside for you, with guards to watch
over you. At such a time as I feel comfortable letting you wander
the streets of Orinhal, you will be the first to know.”

“I
suppose I cannot ask for more, at this very moment,” Katja said,
sighing. “Do keep in mind, Marshal, that I still know these lands
and the people therein better than most. Please, don't feel you
ought to hesitate to request my help. I want so very much to be of
assistance, to save my people. Orinhal may be safe, but your
brother's soldiers still roam the territories, garnering support
beyond its borders.”

No
longer listening to Katja, Claire raised a hand when Ash stepped
forward and said, “Not you. Find Barns and Minoa and have them
handle the transfer. And should I find that this information has
spread, you will spend the rest of your days serving Orinhal
amongst a pile of dirty laundry.”

Ash
fumed, close to trembling for the faith Claire had lost in her, but
after all she'd heard – after all she now knew about me – she
didn't dare to speak her mind.

She
brought back the soldiers Claire had requested, and I didn't hear a
word that passed between them all. They were there for close to
half an hour, being lectured on the severity of the matter, but
time seemed to have stilled inside my head, only moving when it
could slosh from side to side. The sooner the soldiers were gone,
Katja taken along with them, the sooner I was going to have to face
Claire.

The
soldiers marched Katja out, slamming the door behind them and
taking all the air in the room as they went. With Katja gone, the
spell was broken; I could move again. My body tried to do too much
at once. I was pacing and stomping my feet, tugging my hair and
knocking my temples with the heel of my palm, teeth grit, grinding
together.

“Rowan
,” I finally heard, voice
breaking through the mulch beneath my skin.

“What she said, I... she shouldn't be like that. Shouldn't be
that calm, that... she thought this through. Thought it all
through. She's trying to make it look like I'm a
liar
, like I lied, and
she's, she's... she should be crying. She kept crying, you know,
kept pulling at her hair and going on about how awful it was,
screaming and shouting. The whole way over, she'd howl
a-and...”

“Rowan
,” Claire said again, and I
gulped down a deep breath, jaw trembling to see the worry written
across her face. “Rowan, she admitted to what she'd done. And even
if she had not done so, it is endlessly clear how cruel and
manipulative she intends to be. I believed you when you told me,
Rowan. I trust you. She isn't ever going to change that; especially
when she refuses to look at you, refuses to call you by
name.”

Claire
was right. Katja had confessed to her crimes, yet I'd convinced
myself I'd be made to look like a fraud, despite all that. Taking
hold of her cane, Claire rose to her feet, meaning to cross the
room. Meaning to come towards me, to reach out to me.

I
stepped back, shoulder blades hitting the door frame. I didn't
realise I was shaking my head until Claire said, “It's alright,
Rowan. It's alright. I'm going to sit back down.”

I
clutched my hands together, nails scraping across
knuckles.

“B-but
she said...” I said, voice cracking.

Sat back
behind the desk, Claire asked, as softly as anyone could, “Who did
you kill, Rowan?”

“Gavern. He was... he was a pirate,” I said, screwing my eyes
shut as I spoke. “He'd been causing trouble at Port Mahon and all
over Canth for years. And the Queen, she was his sister.
Half-sister. He was trying to take the throne from her, even though
she's doing her best to fix Canth. He killed so many of our people,
attacked our home over and over again. It was our only way back
here. I never would've got out of Canth if I hadn't done that. We
would've been trapped there for years and years, Claire, I
had
to do it,
I—”

Tears
forced my eyes open. I rubbed my fingers against them, trying to
shove them back in.

“Why did
I do that, Claire?”

“None of
our hands are clean,” Claire said, words soft not because she
wanted to be gentle, but because she couldn't bring herself to
raise her voice. How much easier this would've been for her if I
could stand to let her wrap her arms around me. “Do not think that
you have no choice but to let this define you, Rowan. You have been
hurt in ways that few can imagine, and you have continued to fight,
no matter the cost.”

I slumped down onto the floor, spine pressing between the
planks of the door. The hard surfaces helped to calm me, stopped me
trembling, and with my arms wrapped around my knees, I kept my eyes
on Claire. How much would I have done for Queen Nasrin – for
anyone –
had I known
that she had been alive all that time? Not so very much that she
could no longer stand to look at me, I chose to believe.

“Is
there anything I can get for you, Rowan? Water, perhaps?” she
offered. I shook my head, sniffing loudly. “Very well. Should you
change your mind, I'm not going anywhere. I shall stay with you for
as long as you need me to.”

I
deflated, anger and fear washing out of me, replaced by nothing but
shame. If Claire had been embarrassed by what had come to pass
nights ago, then what she felt was the spark that had set a fire
blazing within me, feeding on every warm thought I'd ever had. I
couldn't even have a conversation without one thing within me
tumbling loose and pulling everything else out along with
it.

“I
should... you have a lot of work to do, I'm sure,” I said, pushing
myself to my feet. My legs felt light, as though I hadn't eaten in
days, and I blinked hard, clearing my vision. “I need to go. I need
to... sleep, or rest, or something.”

“Rowan,
you don't have to leave. It's of no trouble to me, and—”

I was
gone, door closed behind me. It was cruel of me, I knew; all she
wanted was to help, and there I was, brushing her off. Unable to
bring myself to hear her out, to say goodbye, when she was doing
all she could to reach out to me, patient as no one else ever would
be.

My eyes stung all the way back to Sen's cabin. If anyone
glowered at me as I went, I didn't see it, nor did I feel it. Their
words were lost to the wind, meaningless whispers that rushed right
through me. How could I have ever let myself believe that
they
could hurt me in
some way when Katja still existed in the world?

Sen
greeted me at the door. I think I mumbled out what had happened and
she left soon after, taking Claire her long overdue dinner. I did
all I could to distract myself. I fed the chickens and sat amongst
them in Sen's garden, not crying into my hands, not crying into my
hands. They pecked at the seeds I'd scattered in the grass,
clucking busily around me, spreading their wings in alarm when I
abruptly rose to my feet.

I'd
meant what I said before. All I needed was to sleep.

I'd feel
like myself in the morning.

Sen had
rearranged the pillows on the sofa for me and folded the deer skin
blankets on the arm. I fell down, burrowing between the seat and
the back of the sofa, and clinging to myself, I felt the pillow
become damp as I drifted off. It didn't take long. As I fell into
sleep, I was already exhausted by the thought of ever waking again,
and the prospect of dreams demanded more of me than I had to
offer.