Eleanor (51 page)

“I have upset you, I am sorry. How about we avoid conversation about Conlan in the future?” he asked, looking at her with concern. Eleanor nodded. At least if they did not talk about Conlan she would not have to try to work out if Jarrick was lying to her or not.

“Kona tells me you have a nasty injury on your side as well as the cuts and bruises on your face. May I ask what you have been doing?” Jarrick asked, changing the subject.

“Not moving fast enough,” Eleanor muttered, but she smiled at his concern and told him about the battle with the glowing green people, leaving out the bit about the chalice, the Talismans and how important they were. She reluctantly admitted that Conlan had given her the cut under her eye and Jarrick quickly changed the subject again, asking her about her life and some of the things she had seen on her travels across Mydren. He asked her several times why they were making the journeys, but Eleanor refused to answer the question. To her surprise Jarrick simply nodded and smiled and did not push for an answer. He seemed relaxed and comfortable in her presence, and he gave the impression of genuine interest in the responses to the questions he asked her and would accept her refusal not to answer certain inquires with nothing more than a shrug. Eleanor actually found herself liking the man. He was bright and educated, with a quick wit and a ready laugh. She asked him questions about his criminal activities and he answered all of them with what felt like open honesty. He did not try to hide or apologise for his activities, but he did not sound as if he was especially proud of himself either – it was business and he would kill to protect what was his, but he took no pleasure in it. His men loved him and he clearly cared a lot for them; he knew everything about them and trusted them implicitly. On returning her to her room, Jarrick asked if she would spend some time with him every day, and much to Will’s surprise – and Freddie’s when he found out – Eleanor agreed. She spent several hours every afternoon walking through the courtyard with Jarrick. They discussed philosophy and science, Eleanor telling Jarrick about the wonders of her world; he listened in rapt attention, arguing the occasional point without irritation or anger and never telling her to shut up, which for Eleanor made a refreshing change. She even helped him catalogue his statues, giving him the age and provenance of every one, while he told her why each one was special to him. She felt guilty for enjoying Jarrick’s company, but when she was with him he was able to distract her from the dark and miserable thoughts which had become normal for her. While her mind was engaged with his light, friendly conversation, she rarely saw Perry’s face or grisly demise. Jarrick kept the horror at bay, which Eleanor found ironic.
 

Eleanor returned from a walk with Jarrick one afternoon to discover Amelia awake, lucid and sitting up, pillows stacked behind her. Overjoyed, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around her friend’s body, which felt as substantial as a dried-out leaf, as if she could crumble to dust and blow away at any minute. Nevertheless, she was alive, awake and returning the hug.

“Careful, Eleanor, she’s not up to that!” Will chided, his voice harder than it needed to be. Eleanor had not really spoken to Will, even though they had been living in the same room for weeks. She suspected Freddie had shown him her memories of the state in which Jarrick had left Conlan, but he had made no attempt to discuss it with her, as his focus had been solely on Amelia. Will’s silence had been part of the reason Jarrick’s attention had been so welcome – he was someone to talk to, someone to listen who did not want to judge her. Will’s rebuke hurt, she
was
being careful – she could see how fragile Amelia was, she was not stupid. Gently releasing Amelia, Eleanor pulled back.
 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, fighting the tears she could feel crowding her eyes. “Did I hurt you?”
 

Smiling, Amelia took Eleanor’s face in her hands. “No, sweetie, but Will has hurt you, hasn’t he?”

The tears began spilling over and Eleanor nodded. Amelia patted the bed next to her and Eleanor climbed up, curling into Amelia’s side, her head resting on her lap.

“Amelia, I don’t think...” Will started.

“No,” Amelia interrupted. “You don’t think, do you?!”

Eleanor closed her eyes, blocking out Will’s irritated expression. Amelia stroked her head, a loving, comforting feeling. When Amelia brushed an energy string against her, Eleanor pulled it in.

Show me, Eleanor, show me what caused the damage I can see on your face and in your eyes.

Searching back through her memories, Eleanor dragged them forward and played them from the moment the arrow had struck. Holding nothing back, she gave Amelia everything – all the pain, fear, guilt and heartache. She heard Amelia gasp as she watched Perry explode, and she whimpered in sympathy, her hand squeezing painfully tight to Eleanor’s shoulder, when she saw Conlan’s injuries. Showing Amelia made Eleanor feel lighter and happier, as if sharing her pain with her friend somehow made it less dark. Amelia was getting better, they would be able to leave soon and she could see Conlan again. She felt a small something burst to life within her, something that had been missing – hope. She retracted her energy string and opened her eyes. Amelia continued to stroke her head.

“What are you thinking?” Eleanor asked her softly. From where he was sat, back to the wall by the door, Will raised his head to look at Amelia.
 

“I was thinking Will owes you all an apology, and I was wondering who tried to kill us and why. I saw the men in your memories, but I didn’t understand what they were saying. Translate for me,” Amelia said.

Eleanor ran through the conversation she had overheard, before Freddie had turned the archers into chargrilled corpses, and recited it back to Amelia in English.
 

“They’d been waiting for us for years?” Freddie asked. Eleanor lifted her head off Amelia’s lap to find him sprawled across the chair by the window, legs hanging over one of the arms.

“So they said,” she answered.

“Were they Protectors?” Will asked.

Eleanor sat up, wriggling slightly as she crossed her legs and got comfortable. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, as they were talking about getting bonuses for bringing our bodies back.”

“Back where?” Freddie asked.

Eleanor gave him an irritated look. “I don’t know, Freddie; you turned them into ash before I got the chance to ask them.”

“Sorry,” Freddie mumbled, looking ashamed.

“If they weren’t Protectors, that means we have a new enemy, a rather worryingly well-informed enemy…” Amelia mused.

“I vote Jarrick,” Freddie said.

Eleanor could see where Freddie’s logic was coming from. Jarrick definitely had a motive, and they had been attacked near Jarrick’s home by men who, while not Protectors, were clearly being paid. Jarrick would have no problem hiring that sort of help – he had the money to pay for it and he had seen the book as a child, so he might have remembered certain parts of it. This all made sense, but her own logic did not agree; things she knew about Jarrick gave her the feeling that Freddie was wrong.
                   

She shook her head. “I’m not sure it’s Jarrick.”
 

“Oh really? Please tell us why your new friend, who is quite happy to torture his brother to death, would not be willing to destroy all he stood for if he got the chance,” Will asked, lacing his question with sneering sarcasm.
 

Eleanor sighed. She should have known better than to expect understanding from Will on this. He was still beating himself up over what he had forced Conlan to do, so the thought of handing some of the responsibility off to someone else was probably quite appealing. “Jarrick hates his father and the Lords of Mydren nearly as much as he hates Conlan,” she explained. “He’s actually quite happy that Conlan is a thorn in their sides.”
 

“He can’t have cared that much if he was going to torture Conlan to death,” Freddie muttered.

“I think Will was right, I don’t think Jarrick ever intended to take Conlan’s life,” Eleanor said slowly, letting her words hang in the silent room like bodies on the gallows. Will raised his head and stared at her, but Eleanor failed to read the look on his face. Freddie stared at her open-mouthed, and even Amelia looked shocked.

“Eleanor, I think you’ve been spending too much time fraternising with the enemy,” Freddie said with quiet concern.

“Jarrick wants the Lords of Mydren gone,” Eleanor continued doggedly. “He wants his father dead, and killing his brother won’t achieve this. Don’t get me wrong, I think he fully intended to inflict agonising pain on Conlan, but Jarrick has had a lot of practice at torture. He could quite easily take Conlan to breaking point, without actually killing him.”
 

“Eleanor, you are defending a monster who wants to rip apart the man you love – doesn’t that strike you as a little odd?” Amelia asked softly. Eleanor turned to look into Amelia’s pained grey eyes. Was she defending Jarrick?
 

“I’m not justifying his behaviour, Amelia, and if he ever hurts Conlan again I’ll kill him and he knows that, but I don’t think he was responsible for the men who attacked us. I don’t want us to think we have found a solution. I know it’s convenient and comforting to blame Jarrick, but if he was planning to kill us all, the waiting men would have reported back to him and he would have ambushed us himself on the road.”
 

“He’d have taken on four Avatars?” Freddie asked.

Eleanor nodded. “He saw the damage I caused and still yelled at me, still hit me. The man has courage.”

“Oh yeah, lots of courage. Hitting a small, unarmed, defenceless gi...” Freddie said loudly, stopping when he caught sight of Eleanor’s rapidly deepening scowl of indignation. A slow, cheeky grin eased itself onto Freddie’s face. Eleanor tried to keep her hard look, but it was too much effort to resist Freddie’s smile and she grinned back at him.

“So, we still have no idea who attacked us,” Amelia said quietly. The comment wiped away Eleanor’s smile. She turned back to look at Amelia, noticing the worry and fear before she answered.
 

“The men talked about having orders not to ‘kill the one with the scar’, so whoever it is wants us dead, but Conlan alive. I think we can assume this enemy knows Conlan.”
 

“We’re going to have to be more careful when we work out where the sword and crown are, as there could be more traps,” Freddie said quietly.

Amelia sighed. “Just what we need, more enemies…”
 

Eleanor smiled at her apologetically. Amelia’s eyelids began to drop, clearly the conversation had exhausted her. Will was at her side immediately, fussing with the pillows so she could lie back. He shooed Eleanor off the bed without looking at her.
 

“She can stay if she wants,” Amelia whispered weakly, eyes closed. One look at Will’s face told Eleanor everything she needed to know about his thoughts on the matter, and she carefully climbed off the bed.

“That’s OK, Amelia, you need to rest,” she reassured her quietly, but Amelia did not respond, her breathing already giving way to the slow, regular sound of sleep. Will tenderly brushed a stray hair from Amelia’s face and leaned to kiss her forehead. Then he returned to his position on the floor behind the door, back against the wall, his eyes watching Amelia’s face with an almost unnatural intensity.
I need to talk to him.
Eleanor did not relish the thought, as his attitude towards her had stripped her confidence. Would he want to talk to her? She loved him and did not like him being angry with her, so she was going to try.
 

She sat next to him. He ignored her. She pushed an energy string out to him. He ignored that, too. She knew she could have pushed into his head, but that did not seem the best way to start a reconciliation talk; besides, if he flung her out it would hurt. Will was too strong to fight.
 

“I just want to talk to you…” Eleanor whispered. She felt Will take her energy string.

OK, talk!

I’m worried about you. I want to make sure you’re OK. You look so unhappy all the time. Is there anything I can do to help?
There was silence. She gave him some time, wondering what he was thinking.

You want to know if you can help me?
 

Well… yes. You’re my friend, I love you and you’ve just been through hell thinking Amelia might die, seeing her in pain. I know how much that hurts. I just thought you might want to talk about it. I know you’re angry with me, and I know it sounded like I was arguing for you to give Amelia’s life for Conlan’s, but I would never have done that
–
we would always have found a way to save them both, but you didn’t trust me.
More silence followed Eleanor’s speech, and she cringed as Will’s disbelief crashed over her.

I emotionally blackmailed the man you love into handing himself over to be tortured, I refused to listen to reason, I hurt you… and you’re upset because you think I don’t trust you?
Will asked incredulously.

Pretty much
, Eleanor muttered. There was another long silence.

I have no idea where to start with this
, Will whispered.

Sorry, I didn’t want to upset you again.

Conlan’s right, you say sorry far too much.
 

Well Conlan doesn’t say it at all, so I’m just making up for him
, Eleanor reasoned, and relief filled her as Will chuckled.

Eleanor, are you interested in knowing why I didn’t want to talk to you?

I… yes
, she stuttered, wondering if she was going to end up feeling hurt again.

I thought you were going to tear me apart for what I did to Conlan, for making it necessary for you to kill that man
–
you have every right to, but I don’t think I can take it just now.

Eleanor heard the misery and felt Will’s guilt and remorse.

You said you were sorry. I believed you. I understand why you did what you did, but I don’t understand why you didn’t trust me. I trust you.