Page 21 of Winter’s Fate (The Poisoned Kingdoms #1)

CHAPTER 21

G eneral Moore talked a great deal. Which wouldn’t have been a problem in itself—Fizz also talked a great deal, and Laena didn’t find herself wanting to slam him over the head with a cook pot—except that every word out of Moore’s mouth was a boast. He and his soldiers had reached the coast in a day and a night, the fastest ever attempted with such a host of men. King Hawk had sent him specifically to retrieve the wayward former captain. The way the man talked, she’d hardly be surprised to hear him say he’d personally installed a hook in the sky to hang the sun.

And he insisted on walking beside her, too. There weren’t enough horses for everyone to ride, and the exhausted soldiers had taken up the saddles. Laena was grateful for the walk, not least because she had no idea what would happen when they reached Inasvale. Moore had sent messengers out to assure both Hawk and Katrina of the party’s discovery. What their instructions would be after this point, Laena could not guess.

Through the day, they traveled, and Landon Moore talked incessantly. And before she slid into sleep that night, she allowed herself to wish she could return to sharing a pallet with Callum. Ridiculous though it was, she thought … from the way he kept catching her gaze from across the fire, from across the camp, she was sure he wanted the same thing.

Not that Moore’s incessant chattering gave them so much as a moment to talk together, or revisit the topic of magic, or stolen armies, or—it should not have numbered among her concerns, but it did—that almost-kiss.

By the time they reached Inasvale, Laena’s nerves felt as if they’d been rubbed raw against a washing board. It took a concerted effort not to cringe each time Moore opened that foolish mouth of his.

The forest ended with an abrupt shift, a single step carrying her from dense vegetation to rolling fields. The sea, ever their companion, sparkled to the right beneath a clear sky. And ahead, the city sat perched upon the side of a cliff, its multi-tiered walls giving it the look of a rather drab wedding cake. A golden flag fluttered from the highest layer: the monastery of the poisonkeepers.

The monks came from throughout the Vales, called to their vocation from across Etra and Aglye, and even parts of Silerith. Or so the textbooks had taught her. The books never mentioned the murmur of waves in the background, or the salty spray as they split upon the rocky cliffs. Nor had they described the perfume of wild roses that grew along those same cliffs, or the singular joy of breathing their scent combined with the brine of the sea.

When she looked to Callum he actually seemed… relaxed. He would have seen this place before, of course. “How long has it been?” she asked, as Moore busied himself instructing his soldiers. “Since you last saw Thaddeus?”

“One year and two months,” he said. “I escorted him here myself, against King Magnus’s wishes.”

That surprised her, the idea of King Magnus’s famously trusted captain escorting the younger prince to join the monks. What had Callum’s relationship with Magnus been like? It was said that he was treated like another son. “Was the king angry?” she asked.

A shadow fell across Callum’s face, and she wished she could snatch back the words. One year and two months. Was that not the precise time when King Magnus had been killed? Careless, Laena , she scolded herself. She’d not been living in the palace when he’d died, but even she could not avoid hearing such news.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have realized. The timing…”

Callum gave his head a shake, as if extracting himself from a memory. “Don’t trouble yourself. It is my fault that I wasn’t there.”

Laena frowned. “I don’t think you ought to blame yourself for?—”

“Pick up the pace!” Moore called from the front of the group. “No need to dawdle now.”

Except for the rockiness of the path , Laena thought. But as Callum took the excuse to hurry ahead and check on his soldiers, she found she wanted to hurry herself, to make for the city gates and meet the younger prince whose desire to live as a poisonkeeper had so angered his father… and prompted Callum’s defiance.

Was this the reason, too, for his demotion? His removal from the captaincy? Truly, he could not be blamed for his absence. He likely would have been killed along with the host of guards rumored to have been massacred along with the king by a heart-tither. One who’d never yet been caught, unless she’d failed to hear the news.

If Callum had been relentless about pursuing heart-tithers before the king’s death, what had he done since?

The road shifted to cobblestones just before the gates to the city. No guards were stationed at the wall, though she supposed they could see threats approaching from the watchtower in the city’s center.

Inasvale’s streets were quiet, at least compared to the bustling city of Riles. Where the Etran city was all bustle and cheer, Inasvale was calm, as though every shopkeeper, fisherman, and street sweeper aimed to live with the same serenity as did the monks who oversaw the city.

Children, she noted, were still children. They chased one another down side streets, giggling wildly, if a bit more furtively than they might have done in Riles.

The city’s hilltop position, paired with its twist of a fortress, made it appear large and imposing from the outside. Within the walls, the streets closed in tightly, each overlooked by the guardian walls to either side. The streets were surprisingly bright, the indigo sky shining down on neatly arranged cobblestones.

And once they were within the walls, it was barely a few minutes’ walk before they found themselves at the peak of the hill, standing before the gates of the Inasvale Monastery. Wrought in a lacework of twisted iron, these inner gates appeared both beautiful and unbreachable. Bereft of decoration, the gates stood without shining paint or gargoyles or carvings, yet they gave off a distinct feeling of elegance.

Someone, she noticed, had planted a bed of marigolds at the foot of each surrounding wall.

There ought to be some kind of protocol for approaching the monastery, likely one that involved Landon Moore puffing out his chest and demanding to be seen on order of the king. Which, to be fair, he already seemed primed to do; he was striding toward the gate, and in a moment, he would certainly open his mouth and start talking. She found herself wishing a bug would catch in his throat as soon as he did.

Before Moore could demand entrance, or whatever he planned to do, a man in long black robes approached from inside, withdrew an impressively large iron ring from within his abundant sleeves, and unlocked the gates.

“You are welcome here,” he said. “Please, come in.”

General Moore nodded, as if entrance to the poisonkeepers’ monastery were his due, and strode past the man without a comment for the wounded soldiers who were supposedly his entire reason for stopping here.

It was Callum who paused, giving the keeper an appraising look. “Still at it, I see.”

The man pushed a rickety set of spectacles up his nose and met Callum’s gaze, fingers twitching around the key ring, and Laena had the distinct impression he was stopping himself from running a hand through his dusty brown hair. “Someone needs to keep the poison at bay.”

The two men stared at one another for a good long moment. And even though the monk gave the impression that he was half ready to dart away, he held his ground until—to Laena’s incredible surprise—Callum broke into a wide grin and embraced him, jangling the keys as he did. “Thaddeus,” he said. “Did you see us coming?”

“Hours ago,” Thaddeus choked out, clapping Callum awkwardly on the back. “We keep watch from the outer bulwarks.”

Callum released the younger man, and Thaddeus stepped aside, allowing the party to pass into a neat entry courtyard. Which, like the rest of the fortress, was surrounded by neat stone walls. These walls protected a simple wooden structure, short and squat, with pillars to hold up the far-reaching corners of a slanted roof. Pink-flowered trees bloomed in the corner, their fallen petals leaving splashes of color along the cobblestone paths that meandered back and around the main building, suggesting that it was one of several.

“We have soldiers in need of medicine, but it is not the sole reason we’ve stopped here,” Callum said as they entered. He, at least, was not gawking like a youth.

It was too easy to forget that Laena ought to have seen this place years ago, during the traditional tour that would have marked her ascension to the throne. In Etra, the queen was no distant student of the world; she was an active participant in it, expected to grow up in the streets of her own city and visit the continent before her coronation.

She’d know the significance of the trees—were they native, or had they been transplanted?—and the owl carving on the main building’s windowsill. She’d know what the main building was called, and the name of their most treasured feast days, and how to address their leader without stumbling.

She’d spent so much time studying kings and queens and the intricacies of their families and customs, yet so little on the other cultures in the Vales. Even the poisonkeepers, and they were as important as any family in the realm. More so, perhaps. Why had her upbringing not included more details about them? Why could she not name their ranks, their titles, their prayers and customs? Now that she was here, it seemed a massive oversight.

While she mused, Thaddeus studied Callum as if trying to read the true purpose for their visit in his expression. At length, he nodded. “The master has ordered the physicians to the guest cabins. You may bring your wounded there.”

Callum hitched his chin toward Edmun and Godfrey, who began helping the injured soldiers along the cobblestone path. They certainly seemed to know their way around. Had they assisted Callum in escorting Thaddeus here? Had they come to check on him since them, at Callum’s request—or King Hawk’s?

As for General Moore, the man was reaching into the boughs of a flowering tree beside the wall, his motives unclear. Though not, Laena noted with disapproval, focused on the health of his injured soldiers .

“It is good to see you, Callum,” Thaddeus said, and Laena thought he meant it, though he spoke in a low tone, casting a significant look toward General Moore as he did. “You must know that the king has been in touch. I’m sure he will be relieved to learn that you live.”

Callum raised an eyebrow. “There’s a ‘but’ in that sentence, isn’t there?”

Thaddeus inclined his head, fingers twitching like he’d very much have liked to grab a fistful of his hair and pull. “He knows you led the delegation without authorization and will expect you to involve your entire party in any discussion we might have.”

The poisonkeeper said this last bit with just the barest lift of his eyebrow, and Laena got the impression Thaddeus very much wanted to know the story.

“Then perhaps,” Laena stepped in, “you might be allowed a private reunion. Callum is as a brother to you, is he not?”

Thaddeus blinked, looking at her in surprise, as if he hadn’t realized she was there. As his gaze landed on her, Brin scurried deeper into the folds of her pockets, like she thought he might pierce through the cloth with his eyes—and perhaps singe her to a crisp. Laena had trouble imagining this kindly looking man causing hurt to any creature, but she’d learned to trust Brin’s instincts.

“Very well,” Thaddeus said slowly. “But if the master calls for me, I must answer.”

Callum pressed his lips together, and she thought he might object, but he only nodded. “Of course.”

What did Callum think of the younger prince’s choices, then? He said he’d escorted Thaddeus here, but he hadn’t told her whether he’d done that in support. Perhaps he’d been attempting to bring Thaddeus home. Had Callum objected to the younger man’s decision to join the poisonkeepers and live an isolated life here in Inasvale? Rumor said Thaddeus had not even left the monastery to attend his father’s funeral.

Whatever Callum’s feelings on the matter, they were not evident. He’d scrubbed all telling expressions from his face, as if he’d come to visit a stranger rather than a man who he’d been raised alongside like a younger brother.

Thaddeus led them directly into the main building and down a wide entry hall bordered by wooden benches. A waiting area, she supposed, for the pair of tightly shut doors straight ahead. Light streamed in from the lofted windows, and the place smelled like freshly cut cedar. Pleasant and bright.

A pair of boys were sweeping the floor as the party entered, and they bowed deeply to Thaddeus before continuing their work. Thaddeus nodded to them, smiling faintly, then gestured for Laena and Callum to follow him up a tight staircase to the left.

From the outside, she would not have thought this building had a second floor at all. But the staircase spilled them into yet another hall, this one narrower, the walls stained with oil from the burning of lamps.

“The master keeps his study below,” Thaddeus explained. “Full poisonkeepers work in our study chambers. The students share a space at the end of the hall.”

“And you’re advanced enough to merit a study chamber of your own?” Callum asked. “You’ve not yet been here two years.”

Thaddeus merely opened one of the doors and ushered them inside. “After you.”

The room was small and spare, furnished with a round table, a shelf piled high with books, and a curtained area that contained a bed and dresser. More piles of books graced each corner, and there were several open on the foot of the bed. What was Thaddeus studying so feverishly? Or was this merely the life of any new poisonkeeper, to spend his days learning?

“I may owe a few returns to the library.” Thaddeus was gripping his hair openly now, and Laena half expected him to rush around and tidy the space. “If you need to speak with me privately, we’d best not tarry. The master will call for me soon, I’m sure.”

Laena saw no reason to delay. Careful not to dislodge Brin from her hiding spot, she withdrew the crystal from her pocket, set it on the table, and flicked the covering away to reveal the hateful thing. Thaddeus adjusted his spectacles and leaned closer as Laena told her tale, though he had the sense not to touch it.

Callum picked up the story from the assassination attempt, then told of the unnatural storm, the lightning, and the shipwreck. Followed by the kidnappers. Their different goal—to capture rather than to kill—had not escaped him, either.

When Callum had finished, Thaddeus sat in silence, tapping his fingertips against his knee and scrunching his nose every few seconds, as though he simply couldn’t get his spectacles to sit right.

“I believe there’s a simple explanation for all of this,” he said finally, his chin so low it was practically propped upon the table.

Callum crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me you think we’re mad.”

Thaddeus straightened, giving his head a vigorous shake. “Unfortunately, no.” He drew in a deep breath. “I believe the barrier between the Vales and the Miragelands is thinning. And I think very likely it will soon break.”