Chapter 17 - Fiyr

I'm still reeling after the queen's revelation from a few days ago.

Time is passing in a bit of a haze—the court is on edge as the word spreads that the two babies in the nursery are Graie and a Rivien's and that Rivier still doesn't know of her death, but I don't share their apprehension. Not when Graie spends every day in his room, staring at the wall and clutching a silver chain in his hands.

All I can think of is the unnatural movements of Silaverre as her body was wracked with the seizure, the way she grabbed her head, and then the way she stilled. It's not the first time I've seen someone die; I watched Graie cut Sir Fiace's throat and I saw Sir Calew fall to his death. But it's not quite the same. I've been bracing to watch someone be felled in battle since I learned to hold a sword.

The way Silaverre was fine one moment, then gone the next, though… I don't know if I'll ever be prepared to watch someone die like that. With no warning, when there was nothing anyone could do… And I know it's worse for Graie. I want to help him, but I don't know how. All I can do is come to his room every morning and ask him if he wants me to bring him something to eat. On the dawn of the third day after Silaverre's death, he looks up.

"Do you want me to bring you some breakfast?" I ask softly, staying in his doorway, not wanting to intrude on him.

Graie gives me a long look, then says, "I'm going to come to the dining hall. We can eat together."

I try not to show the relief that crashed over me like a tidal wave and give him a nod instead. "I'm glad to hear it." Like we did before. I feel a pang of guilt. Am I rushing him? I shouldn't force him to go back to normal. Not when that's impossible now.

I watch him for a moment longer as he turns back to the wall, the delicate chain still gripped tightly in his hand. A gift from Silaverre? Suddenly feeling as though I'm seeing something I shouldn't be, I turn and leave the doorway and walk back down the stairs to the throne room. He's going to come out and have breakfast. That's good.

I head toward the kitchens to fetch us both something to eat and meet Samn on the way. "Graie's going to eat breakfast with us."

"Really? That's good, isn't it?"

"That's what I thought," I say. "I'm just worried that I'm rushing him."

Samn shakes her head, staring into space, seeming unable to offer me assurance. "I don't know. He's… I have no idea what's going on in his head."

I'm grateful someone shares the feeling, at least. She was as horrified as everyone else to find out what was going on, but for someone who's grown up in Thundria, she surprised me with her compassion towards Graie. She seems to understand that there's no point in punishing him for breaking the code when he's lost everything already. More than that, I'm relieved that she understands why I didn't tell her about it—she says she knows it wasn't my secret to tell, at least, and I want to believe her when she says she's not upset I kept it from her. Something going right in my life right now is unspeakably precious. We find Lady Tiall and Sewif on kitchen duty and ask for breakfast. As we wait, the queen joins us.

"Sir Harte, I hoped to catch you before you left on a patrol," she greets me. "I need you to travel to Rivier and deliver them word of Lady Strime's death."

I'm stunned out of words for a moment, then blink and ask, "Your Majesty? Am I… to tell them of the children as well?"

The queen sighs. "I believe there is no way to avoid it. Yes. You must bring the king all of the news. She was his daughter, after all."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Oeak Hahrte. Her husband, or at least the father of her children, and his brother, the king, and his daughter… The tangled secrets feel like they're burning a hole in my throat. Samn doesn't know. It's not my secret to tell

The queen leaves and I watch her go, noticing her hair. She hasn't fixed the cut from the battle—it's still ragged and uneven, swaying as she returns to the throne room to deal with the patrols of the day. I breathe out as she disappears.

"That's not a job I'd want," Samn says sympathetically as we take our plates from Sewif. "King Crukkedaro is going to be livid."

I don't think that's the right word, I think, but don't voice the thought. I would just be horribly, horribly sad. I think of the man who walked side by side with our queen when he offered to help us after we got stranded on the solstice pavilion. The man who gave us shelter when Graie and I rescued Meistya's children. I'm more concerned about what he'll do when he finds out that he has grandchildren, though. Despite Sir Cawle's assertion that no court wants half-court children, I'm scared that King Crukkedaro is going to fight tooth and nail to bring them to Rivier. And mostly importantly, I'm afraid of what that'll do to Graie.

As if on cue, Graie shambles through the doorway of the dining hall. He comes over to our table and I slide the plate of steaming eggs across it to him. Now, in the brightly-lit dining hall, I can better appreciate how bad he looks. I don't think he's washed in the past three days judging by the musty smell as he arranges his sleep-clothes and the greasy gleam of his ruffled hair. His eyes are red and his cheeks just slightly crusted with the tracks of dried tears—he's been crying. Sympathy wells in me.

"Thanks," he rasps, picking up his fork and pushing the eggs around his plate idly. He must be hungry; I don't know how much he's been eating these past few days but he hardly leaves his room, so it can't be much at all.

"How are you?" Samn asks. I cringe a little. What do you think?

Graie looks up and blinks, then looks back down at his eggs, silent.

"How are you?" Samn repeats.

I try to shake my head at her but she's watching Graie. He heard you, he just doesn't want to talk about it! "Samn…"

"Bad," Graie answers, looking up at her and narrowing his eyes.

"Uh, Graie, the queen asked me to go to Rivier," I say, trying to change the subject. "I'm going to talk to the king."

Graie nods, closing his eyes as if he's weathering some kind of blow, then opens them again and says, "Are you going to tell them about F—about the children?"

"Yeah, the queen said to," I admit. "I don't know… I don't know what the king is going to do."

"What if he wants them to come to Rivier?" Samn puts in and I wince. "What are you going to do?"

Graie's brow furrows and he shakes his head. "I don't know."

"It could turn into a fight," Samn thinks aloud. "If King Crukkedaro is determined to get them back…"

What is she doing?! This is not what Graie needs to hear right now! "Uh, Graie, if you don't mind me asking, what's the silver chain you have?"

"Oh, it's…" Graie places it on the table in front of us, uncovering that it's not just a chain; there's a ovular metal ball with intricate carvings on it attached to the chain like a gemstone on a necklace. I inspect it closer and realize that it's not just a ball; it's two halves bound together by a delicate clasp. "It's a locket."

With a picture of Silaverre, I guess, though he makes no move to open it. "How did you get it?"

Graie takes back the locket. "Riviens carry lockets with their own portraits with them. It's for funeral rites; they think that if you're buried with your own image that you'll have a clearer image in the Starlaxi. She gave me this and said she'd get a new one."

I nod.

"I should have buried it with her," he says. "She did replace it but… it seems wrong."

"You could give it to one of your kids when they're older," Samn suggests. "If they're still Thundrian."

"Samn!" I snap.

Graie flinches. Samn looks surprised at my tone.

"Stop talking about them leaving. They're staying in Thundria," I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite my evaporating patience. Why is she talking about that now?! Especially in front of Graie! Dread fills me. I know she thinks Graie made a huge mistake, but can't she be a little more thoughtful?

She shrugs. "I hope so." Then she glances at Graie. "I'm sorry, is there anything I can do to help?"

"You've done plenty," he answers and pushes back from the table, then storms out, abandoning his plate. He's barely touched his eggs.

I stare at Samn. "Why would you talk about his children being taken from him?'

She blinks. "He needs to think about it, doesn't he? Wouldn't it be better if he braces for the possibility?"

"No!" I exclaim. "Or—at least, not now! He just lost Silaverre. I don't think reminding him that he could lose his children too is what he needs right now!"

"But you heard him, he said I'd done plenty," she protests.

"He was being sarcastic, Samn!" I snap.

She seems taken aback. I stare at her. Is she serious?

"I just wanted to help," she finally says. "I didn't know he'd react like that."

"You were talking about him losing his children," I repeat. "Of course he'd react badly."

"I'm sorry, okay? Sorry."

"Apologize to him!" I exclaim, then abruptly think better of that. "No, wait. You should leave him alone for a while. Just… give him some space, okay?"

"I just wanted to help," she repeats, looking a little wounded at my harsh tone.

I shake my head. "We all do. But I…" I bite my lip, not wanting to start a fight but still feeling like it needs to be said. "You're not the greatest at reading people's emotions, okay? I think maybe just… staying out of his way and doing something if he asks you to is the best way to go."

Far from getting angry, Samn's face floods with relief. "Really?"

"Yeah." I'm a little surprised at her reaction, but I'm glad she's not upset.

"I keep trying to say the right thing and then it blows up in my face," she admits, the confession rushing out like she's kept it bottled up for a while. "No one ever does what they're supposed to."

I let out a half-laugh at her plight, but nod. "It's okay. The Dusses of the world can offer gentle words and compassion and you can just be there for Graie if he needs you. It's enough to do that."

She snorts at my poor attempt at a joke, but a genuine smile crooks up the edge of her mouth, mixed with sadness but real all the same. "What… what was Lady Strime like? I remember her from that meeting when we wanted to find out what the Riviens knew of Sir Hahrte's death, but..."

I think back to the first time I met her, when she saved Graie from the ice, then the times I chased after her to demand that they separate, the time we faced each other in battle when Rivier and Shodawa attacked Wynnd and how Graie pleaded with us… "She wasn't very friendly, exactly, but she… she had a certain self-assurance about her." I thought it was ego at the time. She made it easy to slot her into the stereotypical daughter of the king, expecting everything to go her way and for everyone to bend the knee to what she wanted, but now I wonder if there was more underneath all that. "She seemed clever, and she was definitely a dangerous opponent in battle."

Samn arches a brow.

"Yeah, I fought her," I admit, reddening in shame. I was being so stupid. How could I have tried to hurt her when every blow would have struck deeper in Graie? Was my animosity toward her really more important than my friendship with Graie, even if I thought it was over? "I know. But… she was brave." I lower my voice. "And I saw her try to run Sir Cawle through when he was grappling with the king of Rivier."

"Damn. Wish she'd succeeded," Samn mutters, shaking her head. "It doesn't even feel real. One minute everything's fine and the next…"

She gestures vaguely. I nod.

"I can't believe she's gone." I can picture her so vividly, in her Rivien uniform, her pale fingers covered in rings, her flinty blue gaze… It seems so strange to think that life will continue, but we'll never see her by the border, I'll never cover for Graie again, and she'll never be standing by the monarch's platform at the solstice pavilion ever again. She was here, and now she's not. Is she in the Starlaxi? "It's… She was our age. And now she's… up there or whatever, hanging out with the founders, cooking up prophecies…"

I shake my head. Who's going to be next?

"And what is Graie going to do when Rivier finds out about the children…?" Samn wonders.

"I don't know. But whatever he chooses, I'll support him. Even if it means war," I decide aloud. Samn doesn't answer. "I should probably head out if I want to get to Rivier with time to come back."

"I could take Briatte out and come along for the ride," Samn offers.

"Just to the border?" I confirm and she nods. "Sure. That would be great. I'm going to check on Graie first, though."

…

I wait by the shore, trying to flag down a patroller boat for what feels like hours. By the time a boat comes into view, my fingers are stiff with the cold. I've already found a sheltered place by the cliffs to keep Blitz, so I stand alone, waiting for the boat to make it to shore. I have Fireheart, but it's sheathed at my side. I won't have to use it, the Starlaxi willing.

As the boat approaches, I recognize the figures within.

"Lady Fore, Sir Clah," I greet the two knights.

The captain of the guard's face is impassive but Bellack Clah acknowledges me with a smile. I almost want to ask him how Reid, Roos, and Perrich are doing, but think better of it. I have a mission.

"Sir Harte. Back on our territory, I see," Lady Fore remarks, though her tone isn't hostile.

I give her a little bow. "Well, not yet. And only with your permission."

"What do you want from us?" she pursues, unaffected by my show of decorum.

I hesitate. Here we go. "I… I need to speak to King Crukkedaro Star."

Leaparra blinks slowly, unmoving. "About what?"

I grit my teeth. It's been three days. They must have noticed her disappearance. "About what happened to one of your knights."

"Lady Strime?" Sir Clah bursts out. Leaparra shoots him a quelling look and he falls silent.

"I see. Well, then, come on." She motions for me to step into the boat and I do, grabbing a hold of the waxed wood and transferring my weight onto the floor that sways a little with the water. "I'm sure the king will want to hear what you have to say."

I don't think so, I think grimly, but just dip my head and wait as Sir Baley and Sir Clah grab hold of the oars and begin to rock back and forth, thrusting us in one smooth movement out into the water. I'm taken back to the night when Graie and I rescued Sir Clah's children and how we had to stay the night. How Silaverre pretended not to know us. How Graie found out he was going to be a father.

I shake off the memories. Remember the mission, Fiyr.

Sir Baley and Sir Clah are focused on their rowing and Lady Fore doesn't seem interested in making conversation, so the time that elapses on our way to the Rivien galleon seems like it's stretching on forever. I don't know how they know where to go; once the shore fades from sight, the gray sea and pale sky seems identical in every direction. Sometimes I think I can make out the smudge of islands, but then the wind will change and mist will sweep across us, obscuring it. I give up after a while and just try to avoid Leaparra's piercing stare. What will the king do?

I wonder about Silaverre's mother. I don't remember if I ever learned her name. I have to hope that she and Crukkedaro can lean on each other through this, because if the king feels like his grandchildren are all he has left, I fear what he'll do.

Finally, after what must be at least an hour of rowing, with Sir Clah and Lady Fore trading places halfway through, a mountainous ship comes into view. I've only seen it docked in the harbour on the island that hosts their spring encampment and that perspective didn't give me a chance to appreciate just how enormous the ship is.

The sails tower into the sky, almost blindingly white in the sunlight, like branches sprouting from a thick, unnaturally smooth trunk that is fixed in the centre of the enormous ship. The sides of the galleon are fashioned from dark oak planks, scrubbed clean at the top and crusty with salt and barnacles at the bottom. How in the name of the Starlaxi are we going to get up there?! I wonder silently. Is there some hatch that opens?

I'm answered when Sir Clah produces a thickly coiled length of rope, so long it almost covers his whole arm, from under a seat. It's forked like a snake tongue at one end, and he attaches the two prongs of the fork to either end of the boat, looping it through the iron hooks and pulling it tight. Lady Fore manoeuvres the boat over to the edge of the galleon until we're nearly underneath it.

"Up!" Sir Baley bellows as Sir Clah winds up, then launches the rope almost directly up into the air. I watch as it unspools, flying all the way up to the rail where a silhouette has appeared, dark against the sunlight. It doesn't come back down and the rope goes taut against the side of the ship.

A moment later, the rest of the rope is thrown back over the edge and Lady Fore grabs it before it even lands on the deck. She passes a length along to the men and she counts aloud, then they start pulling. With one good yank, the boat is suddenly lifted out of the water and my heart jumps into my mouth. Sir Clah puffs a laugh when he sees my reaction.

The two knights keep up with the captain's count and we're hauled up the side, little by little, until we finally come up over the side of the rail. I finally catch sight of the entire deck of the galleon stretching out before me, at least a dozen Riviens milling about.

"Secure!" a Rivien I don't recognize calls, and one by one, Sir Clah, Sir Baley, and Lady Fore hop out of the boat and onto the massive deck of the galleon. Lady Fore glances back expectantly and I'm momentarily transfixed by the sight of the waters below, swirling around the edge of the ship, then also tentatively grab the rail and get out of the boat. My heart jumps as I balance with one foot over the rail and one still in the boat, then I swing myself over and onto the deck.

I feel a little more confident now that there's more between me and a watery death than a couple feet of wood, but the imperceptible sway of the floor still makes my stomach turn. I wonder how many Thundrians have been on this ship. And how many have thrown up.

I look around the deck of the ship, trying to lock everything into my memory. A couple Rivien knights have brought wheeled wooden supports over to where our boat still hangs over the edge of the ship. I see now that there's a big iron bar running horizontal to the deck that is supported by two more iron bars that are implanted in the deck. The rope that my Rivien escorts used to pull us up is wrapped around it, anchoring the boat to the ship's floor. Stowen Feur and a woman I don't recognize grab either end of the boat and raise it over the railing, then lower it onto the wooden supports. Once it's safely on the deck, the woman undoes the knots that Sir Clah made on either end of the boat and starts to rewrap the rope. Sir Feur wheels the boat away, off toward the side of the ship where I see another dozen boats identical to ours lined up, also lifted off the deck by the wooden supports.

"Follow me," Lady Fore grunts and I snap back to reality, remembering my task.

She leads me across the deck toward the back of the ship, where I see a second deck that is layered over the one we stand on now. Two sets of stairs on either side of the main deck lead up to it, split in the middle by a wall with two windows and a door. The king's chambers?

When she knocks, a voice sounds from within almost instantly.

"Enter!"

Lady Fore pushes open the door and ushers me inside. Apprehension climbs up my throat and I swallow hard, stepping into the gloomy room. Two torches flicker on the walls, but they're not enough to illuminate the entire room, which is quite big. It reminds me of the queen's private chambers; the desk in the middle is familiar, as are the papers strewn all across it, lit by a single candle.

Alone at the desk sits the king of Rivier. He's rendered almost monstrous by the flickering torchlight, a molten orange line tracing along his broad shoulders and glinting off the curls of his hair. He raises his head when I enter and his gaze flashes in the torchlight for a moment, his face illuminated. I study his hooked nose—the one Silaverre shared, his asymmetrical jaw, the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the pallid cast off his skin for a heartbeat, then bow deeply.

"Light, Lady Fore," he rasps. "A Thundrian?"

She removes a torch from the wall and moves about, lighting the others. I dip into the fifth dimension and sense the faded imprint of fire—the torches burnt down and he didn't replace them.

"Your Majesty," I say, suddenly feeling very unequipped to deliver this man word of his daughter's death. "I…"

When I trail off and don't begin again, Lady Fore prompts me. "He said he had information of Silaverre."

The king's back straightens like lightning's struck him, his whole body reanimating at her words. "Then speak!"

I search his gaze, so hopeful and scared and helpless and desperate—and I shake my head. "She's… she's dead."

He is completely still for a moment that stretches into eternity. I can't meet his gaze, but I can't look away, so I just stand, watching this man as he realizes he's lost his daughter. He doesn't speak. His eyes unfocus, and though I'm still staring into them, he's almost looking past me like he's seeing another invisible figure in the room. Something passes across his face, something infinitely painful, then he closes his eyes.

"In childbirth."

His voice is so low and rough it's almost lost in the air between us. But the words are unmistakable, even though I didn't expect them. He knows.

"Yes," I whisper.

I wait for his next words and he cradles his face in his hands, covering his eyes. I think I see a tremble run over his shoulders, but I can't be sure. I don't know how much time passes before he says,

"And her children?"

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. How do I explain this? I have to. The queen knows what she's doing by having me bring him the news; she has to know. "With their father. She… she was in love with a Thundrian. Graie Sterrip, the man who helped me—"

"Of course," he whispers.

Lady Fore does not react to this as gently as her king.

"What?! The father was Thundrian?" she demands.

I nod, still unable to look away from King Crukkedaro. "They're healthy and cared for in Thundria. Two children, a boy and a girl—Sir Sterrip and the ladies of the court and Lady Fennen are all making sure…" I don't think the king can hear me. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"You need to leave," Lady Fore says, voice low and menacing, and I nod, already backing away.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, bowing to the king and then rushing out of the room.

As I'm escorted back off the galleon, into one of the patrol boats, lowered to the water by more wrangling of rope contraptions, and rowed to Thundrian shores, my mind runs around in the same circle of thoughts.

His eyes in the torchlight.

How he already knew he lost her to childbirth.

How he asked after the children immediately.

And finally, the resolve evident in his face as I backed out of the room.

He's willing to tear down the world to get those children.

~Akila