The Soulstoy Inheritance (16 page)

He held up his hand, two fingers extended. “And who caused that gash on your head?”

“Some student at the Academy, a member of the Tainted Resistance.”

“The Tainted Resistance?”

“A new movement in the human kingdom, actively trying to eradicate the Tainted Creatures from their land, because of my supposed actions. Except that there aren’t Tainted Creatures in their land. Just me.”

He held up another finger. “Why didn’t you invite Grenlow to this charming little meeting?”

I had to stop and think about that one, because I hadn’t consciously decided to leave him out of it. “Leave Grenlow off your list, for my own sanity.”

“Is there anyone else on your council that I should leave off?”

“No.”

He put up five more fingers.
Cereen, Rohan, Dain
,
Isolde and
…

“Wait,” I looked around, “where’s Leif?”

Ashen grinned then, and lowered one of his fingers. “He’s in the corner, and I think you almost insulted him just then.”

I craned my neck to look over my uninjured shoulder and found Leif standing on the opposite side of the door to Teddy, lurking in the shadows, and showing no sign of life, let alone offense at my forgetting about him.

“I have something of yours,” I said to him.

From the silence about the room, I was sure that people didn’t usually speak to Leif.

“I’m not sure how that is possible, Lady Queen,” he replied in that deep, sandpapery voice.

I waited for Gretal to finish re-binding my shoulder, glad that it had not needed stitching again, and then I rose, moving into the other room and grabbing the needle that I had set on the vanity. I stalked right up to the hooded man and held it out, biting back the unnecessary fear I felt, looking at the lower half of his leather mask.

“Do you have anyone to add to my list, Leif?”

He reached out, taking the needle from me. “I don’t make guesses.”

The needle disappeared somewhere into the folds of his cloak, and I stared up into his face, trying to distinguish the colour of his eyes beneath the hood.

“You are both masters of disguise,” I found myself saying, “in your own ways.”

Ashen scoffed. “I face the same challenges that any shape-changer does; I’m no more a master of disguise than Teddy over there.”

I was surprised that Ashen even knew Teddy’s name, but I didn’t say so.

“How many people have a mind-ability as advanced as yours?” I asked Leif, an idea beginning to form in my mind.

“It is rare,” Ashen answered for Leif, so that I turned to him instead. “Mind abilities are infrequent in their own right in the human kingdom, though they are more common here. An ability to read thoughts and sift through memories… We know of only two others who share that ability. You are quite close to both of them. A penchant of yours perhaps, Lady Queen?”

I ignored the jibe, as something was clicking into place in my mind. I directed my next question to both Leif and Ashen, unsure who would answer. “Do you wear your cloak and hood when you move about the human kingdom?”

Ashen scowled and Leif strode past me, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open. He didn’t say anything out loud, but Teddy, Quick and Sweet jumped to their feet almost immediately and walked out of the room, so I assumed he spoke in their minds. Gretal was more stubborn. I could see her folding her arms, looking as if she would protest, even though her face had turned white.

“Gretal,” I tried to sound soothing, “I’ll come to you when I’m finished here.”

Her eyes slid to mine, measuring, and then she nodded, relaxing only slightly as she left the room with a clenched mouth. Leif closed the door after her, and Ashen stood, looking agitated.

“How did you know about that?” he asked, rounding on me.

I glanced at him, and then sat myself back on the chaise.

“Hazen mentioned that they were trying to hunt down a man with abilities like his.”

“Why?” Ashen asked, though almost at the same time, Leif started to laugh.

I guessed that he had found the memory in my head.

“It does seem rather convenient,” I said to Ashen, “but they want Leif to examine my mind at the trial, to determine whether I am innocent of killing the king or not.”

Ashen’s brows arched, and he fell back into his seat. “No kidding.”

“Will you do it?” I asked Leif, who hadn’t yet returned to his shadowy corner.

“Consider your exile ended, Lady Queen.”

“Thank you, Leif.”

He nodded and opened the door again. A few minutes later, my guard returned and Leif moved back to his corner.

Chapter Eleven

Misbehavior of the Saviour

I had planned to go to Ravenport the next day, but when I blinked awake, it was to encounter Cale dozing in the chair by my bed. I jumped up and gave him a shake.

“What?” He jerked upright and then seemed to remember where he was, grinning and sweeping me into a one-armed hug that almost had me tumbling over.

I laughed, pushed away from him and skipped into the bathing chamber to knock on the connecting door.

“Gretal!”

I didn’t wait for her to answer, but ran back into the other room, and appraised Cale’s worn-down appearance.

“What’s going on? I love that you’re here, but
why
are you here?”

“I have good news. The man that Hazen has been searching for turned up in the dead of night last night. We’ve been working non-stop to get your trial ready for this morning.”

“Why?” My heart leapt at the statement, but I couldn’t help but feel guilty that they had rushed it. “I would have survived one more day, you know.”

“Your father’s funeral service is today, Bea.”

I felt as if he had punched me in the gut, and I stumbled back a step, the idea of my rushed trial no longer seeming like such a blessing.

“I… I’m not ready,” I stuttered.

Gretal touched my back, and I jumped, not even realising that she had come into the room.

“We’ll get you ready, sweetheart.”

At least she’s stopped calling me Miss Harrow
.

I watched her walk to the dressing room and begin sorting through stacks of clothing that someone, somewhere, had picked out for me.

“How can I say goodbye?” I asked, my voice flat. 

She returned with a pale blue dress, which looked like nothing I would ever consent to wear, but as she laid it out on the bed, a flash of black managed to capture my attention. There was a design sewn into the neckline with silken black thread, catching and gathering the soft material as it spread several inches lower. It stood out in stark contrast to the airy material, bold and entrancing all at the same time, and I found myself moving toward it, my fingers trailing across the thread, drawn in by something in the design.

“You’ll say goodbye the only way you can.” Gretal’s voice was oddly soft. “And it will be enough.”

“I know that mark.” Cale abruptly spoke, eyes narrowed on my fingers, where they still caressed the dress.

He moved over to me, and pointed with a finger, outlining what I had missed. It was the death mark, camouflaged in a net of black thread.

“Strange,” I muttered.

Gretal shooed Cale out of the room and was slow dressing me, taking her time to arrange me in something adhering to the current court fashion, with a thick rope of my dark red hair braided along my temple in a sort of crown, which looped back the rest of my hair, and twined into a makeshift hair-tie to give the impression of a high ponytail. I wanted to tell her to make me look as plain as possible, but something stopped me. She wasn’t making me pretty for the people who would be deciding my fate. She was doing it for my father.

The dress had small, fluttery whips for sleeves, which didn’t do a great job at hiding my bandaged shoulder, or the smaller bandage wrapped about my forearm. However, the cut on my forehead no longer looked so bad, and every other wound was hidden well enough. The embroidery on the front lasted to my waist, and the top-half of the dress was uncomfortably tight against my bruised ribs, but the skirt was as light and wispy as the sleeves, so the discomfort was limited. The dress ended around my ankles, and Gretal tried to force me into a pair of slippers, but I insisted on wearing boots instead. The pair she brought me were still in the style of court fashion, with tiny rows of pearl buttons running up the side, and ending a few inches above my ankles with a minimalist heel. They weren’t the battered riding boots that I preferred, but they were better than a pair of silken slippers, so I chose not to pick a fight with them. When she finished strapping on my knife harness, we moved into the dressing room where my guard had already assembled.

Cale whistled when he saw me, and Quick grinned, reminding me that I had wanted to introduce the two of them at one stage.

“Have you met?” I asked, sweeping my hand across the room and indicating neither one of them in particular.

“Not yet, little synfee.”

“Cale, this is Quick, Sweet and Teddy, I chose them for my personal guard.”

“Harbringer’s replacement?” he asked, eyes touching upon Teddy, who was as huge now as he had seemed the first day I met him. “You’re overcompensating a little, aren’t you?”

I laughed, delighted that someone wasn’t diminishing my guard for once.

“It’s not an easy task,” Teddy said, “keeping this one alive.”

Cale’s eyes narrowed. “Did something else happen?”

“It can wait,” I interrupted, as Sweet’s mouth opened. “Should I leave them here, or take them with me? I’m not so comfortable crossing the border as I was the last time.”

“I know, and I don’t blame you. But they need to stay. You have to come alone. I’ll be with you the whole way.”

“What about Gretal?”

“Send her separately, she’s managed to go under everyone’s notice so far, it will be good to keep it that way.”

“Alright then.” I looked to Teddy. “Will you guys look after her? Make sure she gets a horse, and even take her through the forest, if you can pass without being noticed?”

Sweet clicked his tongue. “Unnoticed we can do.”

I said goodbye to Gretal and followed Cale back to the border. The Black Guardsmen waiting for us this time where as unfamiliar as they were the last time, and I wondered how they had even managed to find so many men in the Black Barracks that I
didn’t
know. I was permitted to ride with Cale, which made the journey slightly more tolerable, but it still seemed to take a lifetime. When we began to march down the main road of the Market District, I was afforded a blessed respite from flying objects, and attributed that to Cale’s presence. He wasn’t royalty, but his father was still the Captain of the Royal Guard, and Cale was commonly associated with the royal family.

When we entered the courtroom, Cale gave my hand a squeeze and melted away, leaving me sandwiched between two large guardsmen. The two side wings of the courtroom were filled to bursting with people, and as I was walked between them, their steady whispering swelled in volume. We stopped right in front of the dais, which housed seven people, none of whom I recognised. Hazen stood off to the side; his dark eyes fixed unflinchingly on me, his mother at his side. When her eyes connected with mine, her lips trembled. She seemed relieved and anxious all at the same time.

The man sitting in the central position on the dais stood up. He had a cold gaze, and his mouth turned down at the sides as he looked at me. It seemed a permanent expression, judging by the creases etched into his skin, the lines dipping a frown into his forehead. His hair was slicked back, sticking to his skull with the aid of some kind of oil, drawing attention to the sharp lines of his aging face.

“Synfee.” His voice boomed. “State your name.”

I hadn’t considered that I might have needed to prepare before my trial until that moment. The man had called me a synfee, which meant that we were already off to a bad start. I looked like a human, I behaved like a human… if they were trying to dehumanise me in front of Hazen’s council and his entire court, it could only mean that they were going to push for my guilty status. Forcing my eyes from the floor, I spoke through my teeth, unsure if the strain in my voice was fear or something else. Pride, perhaps.

“There is no synfee in this hall,” I said.

Hazen might have smiled, but Miriam’s eyes went wide, and the standing man narrowed that cold gaze until he was squinting.

“Tainted one. State your name,” he repeated, and I could tell that he was struggling to contain his anger.

“My name is Beatrice Harrow.”

A rustle of noise spread about the room, and he cleared his throat, quickly bringing silence again.

“Miss Harrow, you have been brought forth today to face trial for the highest form of treason against both the crown and your own kin.”

I swallowed, some of my fear falling away to make room for my grief. He seemed to sense that he had found my soft spot.

“You stand accused of attempting to take the life of the crowned Prince, and successfully killing the King himself, after which you were seen fleeing the scene of the crime. You were also seen fleeing the scene of your father’s murder with Joseph Harbringer, who was under orders to help you in the case of danger to your person. Am I correct in these two instances, Miss Harrow?”

“In the first instance, no. When I left the room, the King was alive. In the second instance, yes, I came across…” My voice suddenly lost its strength, and I swallowed once, twice, before trying to force myself to speak again.

The man smiled, and I could tell that he was about to continue on with whatever listed evidence he had against me, so I pushed on quickly, my voice breaking.

“I found him like that. I pulled the knife out of him. There were soldiers everywhere. I told Harbringer that I was in danger, and he could see my father lying there just as I could, so he helped me get away.”

Take a deep breath, Bea
. Hazen’s voice whispered in my head. I resisted the urge to look at him again, and drew in a shuddering breath, squaring my shoulders and lifting my gaze back to my interrogator’s.