Daybreak (18 page)

“Hello, Gwen,” he said evenly.
 

He jumped when her heels slammed onto the tabletop.

She traced the arches of her lips carefully with the tip of one finger, her stare never breaking from his. Her finger dragged a slow line down her jaw until it settled beneath her chin. “You’ve finally come to your senses, have you?” she murmured, and her smirk broke into a sharp grin. “I knew you’d come to them eventually. You’ve decided to accept my offer.”

Kael’s face began to burn for an entirely different reason. “Wh —? No, I haven’t!”

“You have. Why else would you come storming into my throne room? And in the dead of night, no less.” Her eyes glinted. She slung her legs off the table and her boots struck the floor. “Your passions have carried you across land and sea. There’s no other possible explanation.”

Kael stepped back when she began clomping towards him. “No, that’s not — I’m not going to marry you, Gwen. I’m already married! And we’re very happy, thank you.”

“
We’re
?”

“Yes. We …” Kael reached out beside him, but Kyleigh wasn’t there. The doorway was dark and empty. He was completely alone with Gwen. By the time he realized that he’d been tricked, it was too late.

She was already upon him.

“You knew this would happen one day.” Her fingers wound tightly into the fabric of his shirt; her grin made his blood burn and boil all at once. “There’s no shame in it.”

“For the last bloody time, I’m not —”

“— at all interested in the bearish advances of a lady Thane,” Kyleigh finished as she strode through the door. “Though it
has
been rather amusing to watch.”

Kael didn’t even have a chance to yell at her before Gwen hurled him aside with a roar. “
You
!”

She lunged, but Kyleigh managed to avoid her fist with a graceful step. Gwen spun and her foot came down upon Kyleigh’s heel, trying to pin her. But she must have forgotten about the deadly spurs that stuck out from the dragonscale boots.

Gwen burst out with something that was halfway between a yelp and a swear before she snatched one of the golden spears off the wall and limped after Kyleigh — her every other step leaving a red, wet spot behind her.

“I swore that if you ever came back here, I’d put a hole between your eyes!”

“Lucky for me your aim is terrible,” Kyleigh retorted as she slipped behind the table.

Gwen hurled the spear with a snarl.

Kyleigh ducked.

Kael groaned when the weapon thudded into the oak paneling, splintering its polished flesh. “There’s no need to go throwing things —”

“Argh!” 

Gwen vaulted over the tabletop, hands curled for Kyleigh’s throat. Instead, Kyleigh tilted the table and caught Gwen against it like a shield. The Thane flopped helplessly onto the floor. Kyleigh flipped the table on top of her before darting away, laughing as the Thane’s fist crashed through its top.

She ripped the table aside, clawing out from beneath the ruins like the Witch’s army had done at Wendelgrimm. Bits of table splintered between her trembling fists and her face boiled red as she roared.

Kael tried to step into her path, but she shoved him aside — following Kyleigh out the door.

There were some muffled swears, the thud of fists, and then a crash. When he charged out into the hallway, he saw both women had burst through the keep doors, splintering them from their latches.

They were tangled in the drifts: a mass of limbs and flying fists — grappling, landing blows. Snow matted Gwen’s furs and caked the edges between Kyleigh’s scales. Wildmen seemed to pour in from every corner of the courtyard. They beat their chests and roared for their Thane. But though the wildmen urged her on, Gwen was quickly losing ground.

Kyleigh had already pinned her on her back. She wrestled Gwen’s arms beneath her knees and leaned forward to avoid the flail of her legs. Then slowly, her hands wrapped around Gwen’s throat.
 

The wildmen’s cheers grew louder; their pounding became more desperate. They tried to will Gwen to her feet with their song — tried to goad their Thane into fighting back.

She dug her nails into Kyleigh’s legs but couldn’t pierce the scales of her armor. Her boots flailed though empty air. Finally, the edge of her eyes dulled. It went out like a candle’s flame and her fierce snarl went soft. Even when Kyleigh took her hands away, Gwen lay limp and defeated beneath her.

The courtyard fell silent. Griffith stepped in front of Kael ever so slightly, just enough to eclipse his shoulder with his sword arm. He followed the line of the boy’s eyes back to where Gwen lay and tried to be patient.

The two women held each other’s gazes: Gwen’s shielded, Kyleigh’s searching. After what seemed like an age, Kyleigh reached out and prodded Gwen hard in the chest.

She didn’t move.

“Blazes … you really
are
in trouble, aren’t you?” Kyleigh murmured.

Gwen shrugged. Her head cast to the side and she grumbled something that Kael couldn’t hear under her breath.

Kyleigh leaned forward, her palms thudding into the ground on either side of Gwen’s face. “Well, that’s a shame. I didn’t want it to end like this — not after you barely put up a fight. But I suppose there’s no point in us waiting around Thanehold.” She popped onto her feet with a sigh. “Come on, Kael. I’m afraid the wildmen can’t help us.”

Though she made a great show of marching towards the wall, he thought he caught a glimpse of her smirk as she turned away. Kael only managed to take half a step before Griffith snatched him around the arm.

“Wait — help with what?” He raised his voice to shout at Kyleigh: “What have you gotten into, pest?”

“Nothing I can’t get out of,” she said with a shrug. “But it just so happens that it was something I thought might interest you lot.”

“What is it?” Griffith pressed. Curiosity stained his features by this point, and Kael suddenly figured out what Kyleigh was up to.

He had to try very hard not to smile as he ruffled Griffith’s stripe of hair. “Don’t worry about it. We were wrong to come here. Gwen’s in no state to be battling anyth —”

“Battle?” The Thane sat up immediately. Flecks of snow wound through her fiery crop of hair. “What battle?”

“Never mind it,” Kyleigh insisted with an impatient wave of her hand.

Kael nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s far too dangerous — even for the wildmen.”

That did it.

Gwen leapt to her feet with a roar. Snow fell from the bristled ends of her furs as she stomped for Kael. When she grabbed him by the shirt, he saw the edge had come back to her eyes. She wore the same fierce snarl she’d had when she met Titus’s army at the summit.

And when she spoke, he was actually glad to hear the sharpness ring in her voice: “Tell me what you know, mutt. If there’s a battle within a thousand miles of Thanehold, the wildmen will have a part in it.”

“No.”

The word bounced off the throne room walls, slid across the ceiling and down to the floor, where it ground against Kael’s ears.

“No,” Gwen said again. She’d fallen silent the moment they began to speak, and her gaze sharpened by the minute. Kael swore she hadn’t blinked.

Still, he couldn’t believe her answer. “You aren’t going to help us? The King ran off our entire village!” he said when she shook her head. “He sank dozens of ships, sent a hundred innocent men to their graves —”

“Innocent? I think not.” Gwen leaned back in her chair. Her boots squeaked as she shifted her heels against the tabletop. “The pest has troubled the wildmen for years, and I’m not at all surprised to hear that she’s been troubling the King. But while
we
are content to simply chase her away, I imagine a crime against Midlan would not be so easily forgiven — and those who hide an outlaw from the crown are no better than traitors, themselves. Whatever happened to your village was a punishment well-deserved, I’m sure.”

It was only the knowing that Gwen wanted him to lose his temper that kept Kael’s voice even. “The King hates whisperers. He’s murdered hundreds of us, and if he finds a whole nest in the Valley —”

“Lies,” Silas purred. “Why would a King who sent his Marked Ones on a sacred task suddenly turn against them?”

“It’s not the same King,” Kael said through his teeth. “The wildmen were sent to the mountains centuries ago. There have been dozens of Kings since then.”

Silas inclined his head, eyes already aglow with triumph. “Still, I’m sure they’ve kept the tale alive. A task of such importance would not be so easily forgotten.”

“An excellent point,” Gwen murmured, smirking.
 

Beside her, Silas stood with his hands behind his back, chin raised to an obnoxious height. He watched Kyleigh through the bottoms of his lids — and judging by the way she glowered back, it was all she could do to keep from wiping the smug look off his face.

But she said nothing in reply. Though a span of silence passed when she could have spoken up, she didn’t. Kael could only hope it was because she had some sort of plan.

Still, he wasn’t giving up. “What about Titus? He was one of the King’s rulers, and you certainly had no problem crushing him.”

“Titus was a traitor,” Gwen said with a wave of her hand. “He wanted the mountains for himself.”

“Once he got to the top, perhaps he
did
decide to keep them,” Kael allowed. “But who do you think sent him to the mountains in the first place? Do you really think Crevan would’ve sat by while Titus’s army tromped through his lands? I’ve seen the power of Midlan, and believe me — no army could make it into the Valley without the King’s permission.”

“Really? I seem to remember your pirates climbing to the summit with no trouble at all,” she retorted.

“Well, they came in by sea,” Kael said, thinking. “Titus didn’t have that option.”

“I should think no path would be closed to one of the King’s rulers,” Silas mused.

Gwen nodded. “Yes, I believe you’re right. This reeks of the pest’s mischief,” she said, turning her glare upon Kyleigh. “The King won’t stop until he has her in chains … and anyone who helps her will pay the price. The wildmen aren’t traitors,” she added, eyes narrowing as she balanced a finger against her chin. “But we’re grateful for what you did at the summit — and as a show of our gratitude, I
won’t
skin you alive and pass your hide onto the King. I’ll even let you stay the night, if you wish.” Her boots clomped to the floor and she rose from her seat. “But you’re to be gone by morning, pest. Silas will show you to your chambers.”

“My Thane,” he said with a slight bow. Then he jerked his chin at Kyleigh. “Follow me, dragoness.”

She did — so closely that she must’ve trampled on his heel. Kael heard him yowling from the hallway.

But he didn’t follow. He stood before Gwen, matching her glare with one of his own. All the furious things he wanted to say wriggled dangerously on the edge of his tongue. She was being a fool. He wanted to say it with the full force of his lungs, to yell so loudly that it would pound against her ears each time she stepped into the room:

You are a fool
.

But he knew by the way she smirked at him that yelling would get them nowhere. She
wanted
him to yell. She wanted him to fight. So instead of losing his temper, he forced himself to stay calm.

“I hope you’re right, Gwen. I hope Titus was a traitor. Midlan saw us fly this way. I wager they’ll be in the Valley by week’s end … imagine how angry the King will be if he finds out the wildmen slaughtered a
loyal
ruler.”

The edge of her stare faltered as his words sank in; the line of her mouth seemed to harden. And for one fleeting moment, Kael thought he might’ve gotten through.

“Get out,” she barked. “I don’t want to see you in my presence again.”

Kael threw in a bow as he left — and had to step aside quickly when Gwen threw her chair.

He couldn’t even enjoy the sound of it shattering against the wall, or her trail of furious swears. He was far too angry to laugh … and it wasn’t only Gwen he was angry with.

It was near dawn, now. The castle’s slitted windows breathed cold air across his neck. Occasionally, a particularly strong gust would bring a flurry of snowflakes in with it. They swirled as they entered, dancing gleefully along the hidden trails of the wind. But their dance was short-lived.

The castle’s warmth devoured them quickly, and they disappeared before they struck the ground.

Though his eyes watched snowflakes, his mind saw other things: towers of flame and smoke, ships dragged into the depths, the blackened shapes of men who’d stood upon their decks for only a few seconds before the fire devoured them — their bones crumbling before they even touched the waves.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly ran smack into Silas. “In here, Marked One,” he hissed, watching as Kael climbed the last in a set of narrow stairs. “You will sleep until morning … then you will be gone.”

His exit was made far less haughty by the way he limped. Silas inched down the stairs, favoring his left foot, while Kael went inside the chamber.

It was larger than he’d expected it to be: the bed’s posts twisted over his head, and the mattress was probably wide enough to fit three people. There were heads on the walls and furs upon the floor. The hearth was grand enough to have fit an armchair and a table inside of it quite comfortably, and the heat it spilled into the room chased the cold from the stone floors.

Three windows graced the far wall, rounded on their tops. Kyleigh had the middle one shoved open. She leaned against its sill, eyes closed to the breath of the wind.

“I warned you,” she murmured as he shut the door. “I told you the wildmen would never fight against the King.”

Kael had known before they even turned towards Thanehold that convincing the wildmen would be difficult. They believed the King had charged their ancestors with the task of chasing all the monsters from the Valley — and even though their battle would have to wait until the mountains healed, he had no doubt Gwen’s great grand-devils would go marching after the wynns the moment they got the chance.