Page 22

Brynla

I wake up to Lemi licking my hand.

“Go outside,” I tell him with a groan, rolling over and pulling the covers over my head. “Go pee outside,” I mumble again.

He whines and I hear him sit on his haunches, his nails scratching on the floor.

I could sleep forever, sinking deeper into a dreamless cocoon.

To become aware is to feel my body, and my body doesn’t feel right.

My mouth is dry and tastes like wine, and my head feels like my skull has thickened on the inside.

It’s not just the alcohol, it’s some sort of strange pressure in the air.

I dreamed it was raining, the feeling of water dropping on my chilled arms, as I looked up to a cloudy sky, as Andor watched me with amusement and held me in his arms.

But no, none of that was a dream, was it?

I push back the covers from my face and open my eyes, staring at the ceiling.

Wooden reliefs of stags in a forest scene are carved into beams that cross pale gold paint.

My bedspread itself is composed of the softest sheets beneath a plush golden velvet blanket with amber tassels at the ends, the same jeweled tone of Andor’s eyes.

I roll my head to the side and look at Lemi. He’s attentive, his head cocked to the side, watching me and waiting for something.

“You know how to travel outside,” I say to him. “I’m sure you can appear down in the courtyard or the orchard and then come right back here.”

It’s then that I realize his paws are muddy. He’s already done that. Now he wants something else. Breakfast, I suppose.

And there it is, the scent of fried salt pork wafting in from somewhere.

I had left the door to the balcony open a smidge, just to feel the refreshing night air as I slept, though from a security point of view, I suppose that wasn’t very wise.

I left that dinner with the distinct impression that Torsten and Kjell Kolbeck want me dead.

But there would be other ways to do that rather than sneaking in a balcony door.

I sigh and throw the rest of the covers back, pivoting until I’m sitting on the side of the bed. Solla lent me a nightgown too, loose, comfortable, and modest. I wonder how long I’ll go on wearing her clothes. I wonder how long I’ll be here.

Last night I asked Andor to let me go.

He said no.

If he doesn’t let me go willingly, I don’t have a chance of escape. Not here, not with Torsten or Kjell, or even Vidar, not in a land that is so foreign to me that even rain feels like a religious experience.

If I want to get out of this, if I want to make it back to my aunt in one piece, then I have to play by the rules.

I have to play the game, be the person that Andor and the Kolbecks need me to be.

I’ve seen the darkness in Andor’s eyes, seen how quick he is to hold a blade to his blood, and part of me thinks that he might be promising things like my aunt, like freedom, that he never intends to give.

The captain of his ship said he’s honest, but of course he would say that.

As much as I want to, I can’t trust Andor. He’s going out of his way to treat me well because he wants to lure me into a false sense of security, have me become beholden to the Kolbecks’ side, at least until I’m no longer useful.

I have to find my own escape, at the first opportunity.

The Midlands.

The next egg raid.

I know that place better than I know this one.

I’ll do what I can to put Andor down, hopefully without killing him, and escape with Lemi.

If I play my cards right, if I prepare with enough food and water, perhaps I can steal one of the rowboats and take it to the Banished Land.

It’s a long shot, but freedom might be worth that price.

My father taught me that freedom is worth every price.

With that thought, I get up and start getting ready.

I use the bathroom across the hall, the rest of the castle quiet in the morning.

After we came in from the rain last night, Andor took me to the kitchen, where I met the cook Nels and was able to feed Lemi some leftovers, which he happily scarfed down.

I managed to sneak a bread roll with that herbed butter and bring it back up to the room to eat later.

Andor escorted me but I have a feeling it was because he was avoiding going back to dinner.

I have to admit, our goodbyes at the door were strangely awkward, perhaps because both of us suddenly remembered the last time we were in this area—he was smelling me and I was totally nude.

I change into one of Solla’s dresses, this one light blue with velvet trim along a V-shaped collar that goes off the shoulder blades, bringing out the warm tones in my skin, then put on the backless slippers Solla had placed under the bed, the toe beds pinching and my heels hanging off, but they’re wearable for being inside the castle.

If I’m going to stand a chance at escaping Andor, I’m going to need to figure out how he and the whole suen operation works. I’m going to need to talk to the brains of the family, Steiner.

I gather my hair into a loose bun and then step outside my room with Lemi at my side.

I walk down the hall, taking my time to peer inside some of the open doors.

They all seem to be guest rooms like mine, in various colors and themes, their beds all neatly made.

I wonder if the Kolbecks often entertain people from out of town, if they throw lavish parties and dinners, if perhaps the royal family of Norland even comes to visit.

They seem so guarded, I have a hard time imagining them at a ball or entertaining people, though I suppose I can’t base everything on the dinner last night.

I make my way down to where the hall meets a wider corridor, where the main chambers seem to be, their doors all closed, the air humming with silence.

Perhaps the Kolbecks sleep in. Then I go down the stairs to the ground level, just as a door below slowly opens across from the staircase with a low creak.

Incense wafts out into the hall in a cloud of light smoke, and through the half-open door I see many candles lit, flames flickering against red velvet tapestries. Both Lemi and I have come to a halt at the foot of the stairs, waiting for someone to step out.

A man does, though at first I think it’s a woman because of the grace of his movements and his slight build. He’s dressed in a gray robe, his hair red and waving to his shoulders, eyes deep-set, bright gold and piercing.

“Brynla Aihr,” the man says to me in a rough, whispered voice, his mouth slightly crooked. “We finally meet.”

He doesn’t have any of the dark and brooding features of the Kolbecks, so I’m not sure who this man is. He has a smooth, high forehead, his skin pale with shadows under his eyes and cheekbones, and his age is hard to place, like he could be in his fifties, or he could be in his thirties.

“Who are you?” I manage to say.

“Ah,” he says, with a slow nod. “I often forget that others don’t know of me like I know of them. I am Sae Belak. The Truthmaster for House Kolbeck.”

“The what?”

“Truthmaster,” he says patiently, his lips tugging up in a crooked manner.

“I don’t know what a Truthmaster is.”

He lifts his chin lightly. “Hmmm. No, I suppose you don’t. We are used by Harbringers at the convent and even by the government deep within the walls of Lerick’s crypts. You’ve heard of Cappus Zoreth, the one with the sight?”

I scoff. Cappus Zoreth, the one who started the Saints of Fire, has been drilled into every Eslander’s psyche at a young age, particularly at the convent. “I’m aware.”

“Of course you are. It was the Truthmasters who gave him that sight.”

Interesting. That is something I have never heard before. Regardless, this man and his robes and his way are giving me flashbacks to the Daughters of Silence, and I don’t like it. Still, he’s here and talking.

“So you give the Kolbecks sight, you help them see into future?”

He nods. “Only those who want to communicate with the goddesses directly. Most people don’t. So far only Torsten and Vidar take part. The others remain…wary.”

I frown. “You help people communicate with the goddesses? But the Soffers in Esland don’t worship any goddesses. They worship the dragons alone.”

“Maybe they are all one and the same thing,” he says, his eyes shifting colors in a strange way, like there are literal sparks in his eyes. “Come, let me walk to you Master Steiner’s lab.”

I stiffen with unease. “How did you know I was looking for Steiner?”

A patient smile appears on his smooth face. “The goddesses told me. That’s why I stepped out of the chapel to greet you.”

I look down at Lemi. My dog is paying the Truthmaster close attention, his ears pricked up, but he doesn’t seem to be nervous. Then again, he likes people more than I do.

“Come this way,” Sae Balek says, and when he turns to face the light that’s coming out of the stained-glass windows that look out into the courtyard, his eyes begin to change further, like the gold irises are starting to bleed into the whites, and the color is becoming metallic.

“You’re noticing my eyes,” he says as he keeps walking, facing directly ahead. “Do not be alarmed. This is them in their natural state. I use tricks of the light to make them seem normal, so that I don’t scare people when I first meet them.”

The man doesn’t need gold eyes to scare people, but I keep that comment to myself.

“You’re not curious as to why they’re gold?” he prods.

“I assumed if it was important you’d tell me,” I say truthfully.

His lopsided mouth curves into a smile. “You would be right. I have the sight—I do not need eyes to see. They have been taken out and replaced by the gold of the goddesses. Do you know about that material?”

I shake my head, more interested in the fact that he had his eyes taken out than the material itself. Why would anyone do such a gruesome thing? Even the extremist Soffers didn’t go to such lengths—although they do come close.