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CHAPTER NINETEEN

Fenlia

N o one has heard anything from the front about Elician. Zinnitzia and Marina both write to the high general, Lord Anslian, asking if he’s reached them. But they do not hear back. ‘We will tell you if we hear anything,’ Zinnitzia swears. But Zinnitzia never tells Fen anything. She keeps things from Fen all the time and has done so for years since Fen isn’t ‘trustworthy’. When another three weeks pass with no update, she writes to Anslian directly. He does not respond either.

The only news they do receive is about the war. Apparently, Alelune has managed to push the fight right up to the western walls of Altas. ‘The city wasn’t breached though!’ the courier announces when he sees her crestfallen expression. ‘High General Anslian pushed them back!’

‘And the prince?’ she asks. The courier blinks. Shrugs.

‘I have no news on our beloved prince. Surely, he was at the head of the fight, though, as always.’

If he was, he would have been part of the courier’s story. Some new fanciful embellishment to add to Elician’s growing list of accolades. But he hadn’t been. There had been no mention at all.

Something is wrong. The thought circulates through her mind, haunting her every waking moment. She writes more letters to Anslian demanding an update. If the siege really is over, then he must have the time to respond. And yet, still there is no response.

Her fifteenth birthday comes with presents from her adopted father and mother, from Adalei, but nothing from Anslian and nothing from Elician or Lio.

This is the final proof. The final, irrevocable testament to the reality no one will admit to her: something has to have happened, because Elician would never have forgotten. Never. No matter what.

Fen walks along the walls of Kreuzfurt, circling around the farmland and the gardens and the towers. She crosses by the gate that travellers can cross with ease but is guarded by those who will not let her pass. They stand above her, patient and waiting, bows at the ready. She keeps walking, anger warring with despair.

Cat finds her after she completes her fourth loop, sliding into place like the shadow at her heels. ‘What if he’s dead?’ she asks him.

‘He cannot die,’ he replies softly, ignoring how Fransen had proved that even that statement is false.

She does not argue it. It hurts too much. Instead, she asks: ‘But how could he have been captured? He never left Soleb!’

‘The river can be crossed by boat, at any point.’

‘But no one saw them do that – or anything else. How can no one have seen them?’

‘I don’t know.’ Of course he does not know. How could he know? Cat has been here the whole time.

Unless. Maybe he does know. Maybe he knew from the start. He is an Alelunen Reaper, an assassin. Maybe this whole thing has been a plan and—

‘ Did you know?’ she asks quietly. ‘That my brother would go missing?’

Can I trust this man? Elician had asked her. She had started to think, maybe, just maybe, he could . But now . . .

Cat is quiet for a long time, walking in line with her, hands tucked into his pockets. ‘No,’ he says eventually. ‘I was not told that there was a plan to capture Elician.’

‘What were you told?’

‘Other things,’ he admits. ‘But not about him.’

‘He would have done it, you know,’ Fen says. ‘Let you go after the war. He has all sorts of plans for when he becomes king and . . . he would have done it.’ She tilts her chin up. ‘He will do it too. Once he gets back . . . from wherever he is.’ Confidence returns swiftly, splashing across the shores of her resolve but leaving just as quickly, sliding back to abandon her in a sea of uncertainty.

‘Can I ask you something?’ he asks. She shrugs, listless. ‘Is it really necessary for Elician to lie?’ The question catches her off guard, distracting her from her ennui. She shakes her head, not understanding. Feet drawing to a halt, she twists to stand and face him directly.

‘Lie about what?’

‘He’s a Giver,’ he says. ‘But no one knows.’

‘He can’t ascend to the throne if people know he’s a Giver. Shawshank made it a law after he built Kreuzfurt. Givers ,’ she says with as much condemnation as she is physically capable, ‘are meant to heal the people of Soleb. That’s our job. To help them. The King is obliged by law to turn over any Giver he knows about to Kreuzfurt, to serve the people. But there’s . . . The wording is ambiguous. The kings and queens of Soleb are duty-bound to rule and manage Soleb first. So, if it’s revealed that Elician became a Giver after he’d been made king, then he won’t have to abdicate. That’s why he has to keep it a secret until then – no one can know.’

‘People do know, though. You, Lio, Marina and Zinnitzia.’

‘I only found out a few years ago. And only after they realized what I was.’ That had hurt. He had meant the reveal as some form of empathy. She had been upset, crying, screaming about how he couldn’t understand how much she did not want this ability. He had sworn he understood, but the words had only stung. The whole of Soleb knew what she was. She had stupidly brought a dead animal back to life in front of people, her powers activating without her even realizing it. Everyone knew. But Elician? Elician was able to keep living his life. Go off to fight a war. And he is still eligible to become king just because he’s managed to keep it a secret. She swallows back the bitter taste the revelation still leaves in her mouth. He told me because he trusts me. And I have to prove I’m worth it.

‘You’re sure no one else knows? Just . . .’

‘Family,’ she insists. ‘ Family knows. And . . . and people who have all sworn themselves to Elician. If anybody says anything about Elician, then King Aliamon will have them executed as oathbreakers.’ She remembers the words she had to swear, hand on her heart, the King watching with a sharp eye, and the threat of severe punishment hanging above her should she ever fail. He couldn’t kill her if she broke Elician’s trust. But he could make it hurt. ‘Maybe someone saying something would stop Elician from becoming king, but it wouldn’t benefit the tattler any.’

‘How would your king know who told the secret?’ Cat asks.

‘You just don’t break an oath,’ Fen replies shortly. ‘No one does. An oath is sacred.’ Then, scrunching up her nose, she squints at Cat. Elician had wanted to know if he could trust Cat, and Cat already knew his secret, but . . . ‘You didn’t take an oath, did you?’ He blinks at her, lips pressed together. She raises a finger, and he holds his hands up as if to fend her off, head ducking slightly. ‘Swear my brother fealty,’ Fen commands.

Cat does not move and his jaw clenches. His refusal is clear. Fen steps a little closer. ‘If you’re going to stay here . . . if you’re going to be my friend, be someone we can trust and depend on – if you really care what happens to Elician, then you have to swear fealty. You can’t just know something like that and not do it. It’s the rules .’ The argument sounds weak even to her, but she doesn’t know how else to explain the importance of this. Maybe he did know something was going to happen to Elician when he left Kreuzfurt. But he couldn’t have been involved in that. Not really. The timing was wrong. But from here on out, this is one secret that could cause problems. One that everyone had badly overlooked when it came to Cat, and protecting what he knew. She cannot control anything else about this mess, but she can control this . She can make sure that Elician is safe from this oversight. And she can fulfil her promise to him . . . prove that Cat can be trusted. Because he swore an oath.

‘Sorry,’ Cat finally gets out. He takes a step back. Then another. Fen can see the exact moment he thinks of turning and running – probably back to the House of the Unwanting and Marina’s or Elena’s coddling.

Anger runs hot like fire through Fen’s body. She snatches Cat by the wrist, locking her fingers around it tightly enough that she can feel his bones move. He flinches and tries to pull free, but Fen has been on the receiving end of grabs just like this. She knows how to dole them out too. He does not escape, and she has no intention of letting him go.

‘Swear fealty!’ she demands.

He shakes his head, jerking his arm back and clutching at her hand as he tries to loosen her grip. His mouth opens and closes uselessly. She almost lets him go when she sees just how frightened he has become. But she won’t relent. It’s her job to keep this secret – and her brother – safe. If she cannot fight in the war, or do anything to help find him, she can at least do this.

She likes Cat. He is her friend . The first real friend she’s made since everyone abandoned her the day she learned what she was. But people make promises without meaning them all the time. A true oath is different . An oath is real. Cat will not break it if he makes it. She knows this, knows it like she knows her own soul.

Her fingers tighten, pressing the bell tight against his wrist. There are tears leaking from his eyes. ‘Swear fealty!’ she demands, even as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground, twisting away. His arm still dangles from her grip. His body: a weight on a string, collapsed to the earth in miserable supplication.

She feels like she is going to cry too, but she cannot. Bruises will form under her grip, but they will heal, and he needs to swear. ‘Swear it!’ she gasps again, almost begging as a ragged breath is torn from her.

There’s shouting, growing closer. Fen turns. Marina is running towards them, sword in hand as if she intends to cut Fen down. Fen jerks back, nearly tripping over her own feet. She drags Cat with her as she steps to the side. He does nothing to stop the motion, folded like a paper doll – limbs akimbo and brow pressed against the dirt.

Marina yells, ‘What in the name of the gods do you think you’re doing?’ But Fen cannot let go of Cat’s arm. She cannot release it. It is a lifeline and a desperate plea all in one.

‘He has to swear fealty to Elician,’ she says, lips trembling as she tries to explain. She straightens her back, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks. All the fear of the past few weeks bubbles to the surface. ‘He has to! He knows about him. And if he does not swear . . . Elician will be in danger . He has to swear.’

‘Let him go,’ Marina orders. She steps closer, lowering her sword even as she draws up to Cat. She touches Cat’s shoulder, but Fen still does not let go. She squeezes even tighter. The bones of Cat’s arm shift. As fragile as glass, she imagines hearing them crack. It doesn’t matter. He will heal. Cat is a dead thing, and death is the only impediment she has ever managed to knit back together.

‘I am a Soleben princess,’ Fen declares, ‘ you are a matriarch of Kreuzfurt and cleric to the Kingsclave. You have sworn yourself to my service, and I will not be ordered by you.’ Marina’s lips part and then press together in a firm line. She glares up at Fen as she lowers herself to one knee. She keeps one hand on Cat’s shoulder, but her obeisance is still that of the royal family’s house guard.

‘Your Highness ,’ Marina spits out. ‘I humbly request you let Cat go. He’s not going to swear any oaths to you or your brother like this, and he’s destroying Kreuzfurt.’

Fen recoils. Her head snaps up and she looks around. The sweeping arm of Death has reached out in all directions. Leaves have fallen from trees, grass has shrivelled and died, fish are floating belly up in the nearest pond. The nearby statue of Shawshank is crumbling, and the smell of decay suddenly breaches Fen’s nose. She throws herself away from Cat, almost retching as the stench hits her nostrils.

She hadn’t noticed what Cat was doing. How could she not have noticed? Why else would Marina have appeared so suddenly? The garden around them is being destroyed and what had Marina even been planning to do with her sword? Hack Cat’s head off there and then to stop him from perverting the rest of the enclave?

‘He wasn’t touching it . . .’ Fen babbles as Marina shifts from her guard-perfect pose to tuck her arms under Cat’s shoulders and haul him upright. ‘He wasn’t touching any of it. How did he kill all of that without touching anything? ’

‘We need to go,’ Marina snaps. Fen can hear them now. Other voices. Concerned voices are coming their way.

Zinnitzia is the loudest of them all, practically throwing her voice in a highly affected manner. ‘Oh, what could have possibly happened?’

Marina takes heed of this warning and moves quickly. Cat’s legs do not seem capable of holding him upright; they crumple when Marina tries to get him to his feet. She grits her teeth and lifts him up bodily, throwing him over her shoulder in a dead-man’s carry. She hurries them away from the chaos descending on the garden and Fen follows as fast as she can. Her feet slap against the earth as she flees from the scene of the crime. Her heart pounds ruthlessly in her chest. Marina takes twists and turns through the trees, following paths that are still full of life and untouched by Cat’s despair.

They come to a part of the garden that Fen has never seen before. It loops behind the House of the Unwanting to a back entrance Fen never knew about. Marina lets herself inside within seconds. From there, she leads them up a series of narrow stairs that exits into the main corridor. Once inside Cat’s room, Marina draws the curtains and Fen lights the lanterns with a swish of her hand. Then and only then does Marina slide Cat from her shoulder and let him curl up on the ground, knees tucked to his chest and his terror pungent enough to make Fen’s head swim.

Marina turns to Fen almost immediately. She kneels once more, exhibiting a formality she had never previously bothered to display. Fen hates it. She wants to run. She wants to hide. She wishes desperately that she’d never asked for Cat’s oath. ‘Your Highness, I pray you’ll forgive my impertinence if I remind you that Cat is not a subject of Soleb,’ Marina says with all the dignified courtesy of a noblewoman.

Fen had been there the day Marina had beseeched King Aliamon not to send Elician to war. She had watched as Marina had knelt before Fen’s adoptive father and presented her argument in cool, careful tones. She had watched Marina grit her teeth when Aliamon rejected her petition, and as Marina continued despite the King’s command. The woman had argued over and over, until the murmurings of the court reached a fever pitch as the assembled lords and ladies balked at her presumption.

Her punishment had been Kreuzfurt. Her place at court, and at Elician’s side, irrevocably revoked because she’d dared speak the truth. Elician should not fight in the war. Fen had never understood why Marina had kept arguing when the only one that suffered for her actions was her.

But now Marina kneels before Fen in turn. Beseeching her on behalf of Cat, who did not argue for himself. Who is curled up like a pill bug, mute and trembling violently. ‘Cat cannot, and will not, swear fealty to Elician,’ Marina continues. ‘To do so will compromise who he is.’

‘He’s still loyal to Alelune, then?’ Fen asks sharply. ‘ Did he know something was going to happen to Elician?’

‘The two points are not connected,’ Marina replies. ‘He can be loyal to the country and also not know about Elician’s disappearance.’

Incredulity overrides all else. ‘But why refuse to swear an oath to Elician? Why? After everything they did to him, why would he be loyal to them?’

‘Your Highness, if I may ask, what did Alelune do to him?’ Marina asks.

Fen points. Sharp and furious. ‘Well, someone made it so that all I had to do was grab his wrist before he collapsed . He flinches at everyone and everything, he barely talks, he – he’s a mess.’ Crumpled and terrified after being yelled at and grabbed by a girl five years his junior.

‘He’s been tortured,’ Marina says. ‘Imprisoned in the worst, most uncaring conditions for over a decade. And you’re right. Someone did do it. But it was not the country . The country of Alelune is not responsible.’

‘It was their laws, their rules, their choices. They hurt him! Why would he protect them?’

‘Because there is far more to Alelune than what a few people currently in power have done to their most vulnerable class,’ Marina says. She looks sad. Terribly sad, and exhausted. And yet she kneels to beg Fen’s understanding anyway. Kneels between her and Cat, as if Fen is going to snatch him back by the arm and shake him into submission. Fen presses the heels of her palms to her eyes. She sniffs loudly, then wipes her face. She shouldn’t have grabbed him. Shouldn’t have forced him to stay still.

‘He does not have to swear fealty to Elician,’ she concedes at long last. ‘But he has to swear not to tell anyone about Elician. About his secret.’

Marina glances towards Cat. Fen waits. Cat does not move. Marina’s shoulders sag. ‘I’ll bring him to you later, Your Highness,’ she says, despondent in the face of Cat’s silence.

It is a dismissal, one that chafes badly against Fen’s heart. But when she looks at them both, all she can think to do is nod. Nod and flee. Fen has never terrified anyone like she has terrified Cat today. And even though she had done it because she had been rightly protecting her brother . . . she does not like how it feels. She did the right thing. She knows this. And yet it felt so very, very wrong.