Chapter 25

An idea may spark a movement.

~ Lord Professor Varhesson, Port Jirador University

“I didn’t know that, no.” Kaylina willed calm into her voice as she answered Captain Targon. The ranger wore a cloak, but his black leather armor was beneath it, a sword hanging from his belt. After seeing the veteran fight, she knew he was almost as dangerous as Vlerion. “You’re not Jankarr.”

An obvious statement, but she was nervous.

“You think he would have minded less that you were talking to a Virt spy?”

“I think he would have come out, flirted with her, and helped me learn more information.”

“The flirting part might be right.” Targon walked slowly toward Kaylina, considering her.

“I only asked because I thought Vlerion would want to know what night they’re planning things.”

“And you’ve sworn your loyalty to him now?”

“Well, he saved my brother’s life.” Kaylina pointed toward the kitchen. “And his mom likes my mead.”

Targon stopped, his eyebrows drifting up. Maybe there hadn’t been time for Vlerion to give him a lowdown of the day.

“You spoke with Lady Isla? At Havartaft Estate?”

“Yes. She sent a carriage for me.”

“Why?”

Kaylina opened her mouth but paused. Isla had said Targon knew Vlerion’s secret, hadn’t she? And Kaylina had caught the two men exchanging long significant looks she believed had been related to it. Even so, she worried she’d misremembered something, so she hesitated to speak it aloud, lest she betray Vlerion.

“Lady Isla is a mead enthusiast,” Kaylina said.

“Not that I’ve heard.”

“Maybe she doesn’t confide her drink preferences to you.”

Targon walked closer. “In the jail, under the influence of the kafdariroot, I believed you were a foolish tourist, as Vlerion said, and nothing more. But now I wonder… I’ve recently grown aware of Virt factions forming to the south, in cities far removed from the capital. You did nothing but babble about your family when we questioned you.”

Kaylina winced, well remembering how she’d revealed far more about her fears and dreams and regrets than she ever would have wished to tell a stranger. She didn’t tell her closest family members that much about her thoughts.

“That’s because that’s all I know about. Honest.”

“Honey alone wouldn’t lure away the taybarri. They’re not dumb animals, and they’re not trapped in our stables. They could escape any time they wanted.” Targon had heard every word of that conversation, hadn’t he? “But as an anrokk, you might be able to do what that girl was asking. The Virts have their own spies. A lot of them. I wonder if they’ve figured out what you are.”

“I’m not anything. I swear.”

“By now, even you can’t believe that.”

Kaylina spread her arms helplessly. What did he want from her?

“What were you trying to learn from Lady Isla?” Targon asked.

“Nothing. She invited me up to her estate.”

He stopped in front of her. Close enough to grab her. Kaylina was tempted to reach for her sling, but he had that deadly blade and might decide her usefulness had ended.

“Is that so? How did she hear about your mead? You haven’t opened yet, and she lives an hour to the north.”

“Vlerion must have told her.” Kaylina shrugged and groped for a way to end the conversation or divert his attention. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d started lying, and Targon was the type who might sense that and get her tangled up in her mistruths. “Look, I was being sarcastic. It wasn’t about mead. She warned me to not flirt with Vlerion.”

“Oh?” Targon had lifted a hand, as if he were on the verge of grabbing her, but he lowered it. “Did she? Maybe Beatrada said something.”

“Yes. His cousin, right? I guess she saw us together in the arena and thought there was something there that wasn’t and told Vlerion’s mom.” Kaylina shrugged. “I get that I’m a commoner, and I’m not appropriate for her son, but I had no idea the mothers of nobles were so nosy.”

“Hm.” Targon regarded her thoughtfully.

Trying to discern if she was telling the truth?

“You can question me with that drug one more time, if you want,” she found herself saying, though the thought made her cringe. What would she babble this time?

“Perhaps we will. For now, I came to check on the catacombs and find out why people want to burn down this castle. And what else they want.” Targon backed away from her.

Kaylina was careful to make her sigh of relief soft so he wouldn’t notice it. “Good. Thank you. We’d appreciate it if no more arsonists crawled up out of the catacombs.”

“We sealed those damn passageways.” Targon shook his head and headed for the kitchen.

Kaylina trailed him at a distance and only because she wanted to see if the pot of water had cooled enough to use. When she stepped into the kitchen, Targon was in the pantry doorway, but he’d paused to look back at her.

“Vlerion said I shouldn’t leave you here alone.”

“I’m not going back down there.” She pointed at the trapdoor and then at her calf. “It didn’t go well for me last time. Besides, I have a plant to fertilize.” Kaylina mixed the contents of the pot again.

He eyed the jar on the counter. “With honey?”

“My grandpa used to do it. It worked well in the garden. Honey has lots of nutrients in it. And it’s not like that plant can get any crankier.” She pointed through the ceiling toward the tower.

“There’s a plant up there?”

Something flickered in the shadows along a wall, making Kaylina jump. But when she looked in that direction, she didn’t see anything. Targon looked too but soon turned back to her. He must not have seen anything either.

“A plant?” he prompted.

“Yeah. I went up there last night.” Kaylina described what she’d seen, the angry writhing vines.

“And you’re going to fertilize it? To make it grow bigger?”

“To make it happier.” All right, that sounded dumb. “To give it some nutrients,” she corrected. “Like I said, honey is rich in them, and I thought… Well, it couldn’t make things worse.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Targon stepped away from the pantry and pointed at the staircase. “I’ll go with you.”

“Uhm.”

“Vlerion wouldn’t be happy with me if a plant strangled you while I was supposed to be keeping an eye on you. He’ll be on his way back soon. We’ll check the catacombs then.”

“Suit yourself.” Kaylina didn’t want the captain’s company, but maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to have someone nearby if her experiment went awry. She didn’t think things could get worse, but that was a big assumption to make about this place.

After mixing the honey water again, she grabbed a ladle and a lantern, and headed for the stairs. They creaked as Targon came up behind her.

As if to verify her doubts, another flicker along a shadowy wall drew her eye as she climbed.

She paused. “Did you see that?”

“All I can see is your ass.”

That made her walk faster, to remove her rear anatomy from his line of sight.

“A gentleman wouldn’t look at that,” she muttered.

Targon scoffed. “That’s not true—he might not tell you he was looking—but I’m hardly a gentleman.”

“Aren’t you a noble?”

“The bastard son of King Gavatorin’s now-dead younger brother, which makes me… not much of anything. I was lucky to get invited into the rangers. Twenty-five years ago, when I joined, even a lot of full-blooded nobles weren’t accepted in.”

“How did you end up in charge?” After they reached the landing, Kaylina led the way down the hall and turned toward the tower.

“By being stronger and more ruthless and useful than my contemporaries. Most rangers strive to be honorable and noble of heart as well as blood, but my predecessor knew the troubled times we were entering. He knew it would take someone who wasn’t afraid to do dirty work.”

The boards that Kaylina had pried free remained on the floor where she’d left them, and red light seeped down through the hole. Mostof the plant wasn’t visible from below, but two vines dangled through the opening. She hadn’t left them that way and eyed them, waiting to see if they twitched or whipped about. They hung limp.

As she looked up, she realized it would be hard to replicate her climbing feat while holding the pot. “Will you hand this up to me?”

“Not only haven’t you called me my lord once since I arrived, but you want me to be your lackey.”

Kaylina thought about asking if bastards were considered aristocrats, but he probably merited the title for being in charge of the rangers if not fully for his lineage.

Despite his sarcasm, Targon held his hands out for the pot. “Vlerion hasn’t trained much respect into you yet.”

“We didn’t get to work together for more than an hour.”

“Had you been at headquarters today instead of chatting with his mother, he might have had time to whip some discipline and respect into you.”

“What a shame I missed that.” Feeling self-conscious with Targon watching, Kaylina picked a careful way up the stone wall, thinking that she should have found a rope to make her second ascent easier. Of course, she hadn’t originally planned to return, not until she’d had this silly idea.

Maybe she could have climbed one of the dangling vines, but touching any part of that plant did not seem wise. Watering it might be foolish. It might not have been watered in two centuries, and it was doing fine.

After she swung her leg up and pulled herself through, Targon probably watching her ass again, Kaylina knelt beside the hole. The red glow was bright enough that she didn’t need her lantern. The large pot remained in the same place, but the gnarled branches and vines had rearranged themselves, not only the two that had lowered through the hole. One was poised in the air, like a whip about to crack.

“You’re an interesting plant,” she murmured. “What species were you before you were altered, I wonder?”

Chilly air whispered in through the window, and a leaf rotated toward her on its stem.

Creepy.

Kaylina dropped to her belly on what she hoped was sound wood—the original flooring, not to mention the staircase, had been torn away. Someone must have been trying to remove the plant. Had its pot remained, floating even after its support was gone?

Careful not to brush the vines, she said, “I’m ready for the pot.”

Grumbling, Targon came closer. He also eyed those vines. Since entering the castle, had he been gifted any of the visions about rangers being killed?

He lifted the pot overhead, and she stretched down, flexing her core for support as she gripped it. A leaf twitched on one of the vines, and she almost dropped the honey water on Targon’s head. A few drops sloshed out of the pot. He cursed and stepped back, but he was looking at the vine, not her.

“Is that plant alive? Or what?” He dropped a hand to his sword.

As Kaylina hefted the pot onto the boards next to her, she thought about saying all plants were alive, but she knew that wasn’t what he meant. “I think it’s in the or what category.”

Targon grunted and took another step back.

“You might want to go,” Kaylina said. “Based on the visions I’ve had while sleeping—and not sleeping—the castle doesn’t like rangers.”

“So the stories say.” Targon glanced toward the exit but, hand on his sword hilt, remained where he was. “Do what you need to do. I said I’d keep an eye on you.”

Something brushed Kaylina’s back, and she rolled away, barely refraining from screaming. One of the branches had shifted toward her, leaves flexing. She scurried toward the wall, though she was tempted to dive through the hole and get out of there.

But the branch didn’t reach farther for her. It hovered over the pot, one of the leaves dipping in, reminding her of Crenoch’s tongue.

“You all right up there?” Targon asked.

She’d kept from screaming but wasn’t surprised he’d heard her rapid roll. “So far. It just… moves.”

“I noticed. I’m debating cutting off those dangling vines, but I’ve seen enough in my life to know that curses and magic are real. We probably shouldn’t have let you set up here.”

“Probably,” Kaylina mouthed and rolled her eyes.

From below, he wouldn’t be able to see her disrespect.

“But Vlerion doesn’t think the curse started that fire.”

“No, someone is after us. Or wants us out of here, more likely.”

“You have any suspects?”

Two more leaves dipped into the pot.

Kaylina rose to her feet and grabbed the ladle. “The Virts, I’d guess. People who want to use the pantry as an entrance and exit to the catacombs without witnesses around. I suppose Jana might be involved.”

“Who?”

“She’s an older lady who introduced herself as one of the proprietors of the Nakeron Inn. I guess they make and sell mead, so she’s our competition.” Kaylina avoided the branch and ladled her honey concoction onto the soil of the plant. The liquid disappeared immediately, as if she were pouring water into a parched desert. She spread it all around. “She’s come by a couple of times that we know about, and I’ve gotten the vibe that she’s spying on us. She was watching the fire from across the river.”

“Hm.”

Kaylina stepped back, wondering if she should leave the pot up there. A few more branches had draped over it, and a vine had slithered across the floorboards and over the lip.

Nothing more substantial happened, not that she could see. The glow didn’t change, and she couldn’t tell if the plant’s magic altered. One of the familiar eerie moans wafted from the rooftop, so probably not.

“What kind of magic have you seen? In your twenty-five years with the rangers?” Kaylina wondered if Targon had seen Vlerion change. Or maybe he’d been one of the men responsible for killing Vlerion’s brother when he’d been in beast form. If so, could Vlerion have forgiven him?

“More than can be explained by books,” was all Targon said.

Kaylina looked out the window, not surprised to spot snowflakes falling from the dark sky. Spring was slow coming here. Maybe those frigid mountains always kept their frosty grip on the land.

A startled gasp came from below.

“Targon?” Kaylina looked at the vines dangling through the hole, but they hadn’t moved.

A choking sound followed the gasp, then a growl and a thump. Finally, the faint rasp of a sword being drawn.

Kaylina dropped to her hands and knees by the hole.

Just like in her visions, a thick vine had snaked out of a stone wall to grab Targon around the neck from behind. Like a viper.

Sword in hand, he hacked at it, but the sharp blade barely nicked the rubbery green vine.

Kaylina drew her knife and was about to jump down but, on a whim, she grabbed the ladle, spooned up the honey mixture, and flung it at the vine.

“Suck that down, plant,” she growled and swung down, landing in a crouch.

Targon had twisted about so he could swing more effectively at the vine, but it still had him by the neck. Kaylina rounded him so she wouldn’t be in the way of his sword arm and lunged in with her knife. She stabbed the vine near the wall, thinking it might be weaker there. But the blade didn’t cut in. In addition to being tough and rubbery, the vine was slick from her water.

“So much for that idea,” she said.

Rustling came from above—the vines that hung through the hole stirring. Would they jump into the fray? Grab her as well?

Kaylina stabbed again, afraid Vlerion would blame her if Targon died at her feet. He might think she’d colluded with the curse—or the Virts somehow—and that she’d wanted this.

Stabbing harder, she nicked the vine, but it didn’t let go. Targon, his face turning red, had more luck. His slashes weren’t wild and frantic but precise as he methodically struck it up and down, seeking a weak spot.

Unfortunately, the vine didn’t seem to have weaknesses. It had grown straight out of the stone. How could that be?

Footsteps pounded on the staircase, and Kaylina whirled, afraid of who—or what—might show up next.

Vlerion ran into view, cursing when he saw his captain in trouble. For a second, that savage glint entered his eyes, and Kaylina worried the beast would erupt. If it did, going by what his mother had said, it might not only destroy the vine but kill Targon and her.

Vlerion started humming as he ran. By the time he reached his captain, sword swinging toward the vine like an executioner’s axe, his calm mask had taken over his face.

Kaylina backed away so the men would have room to wield their blades. Since he wasn’t constrained by a vine around his neck, Vlerion’s movements were freer and more effective. Or maybe he was simply stronger. His sword cut deeper into the vine, and, on the third stroke, he cleaved it in half.

Targon dropped his blade and grabbed at the end wrapped around his neck. As if that part of the vine was alive independent of the rest, it continued to squeeze. Targon’s face turned redder and redder. His earlier methodology abandoned, he clawed at it, desperate to pull it off as his end neared.

Vlerion raised his sword, slashing again. Though careful not to cut Targon, he came alarmingly close. The blade sliced deeply into the vine, less than an inch from his captain’s neck.

It weakened, giving slightly as Targon continued to pull. Vlerion dropped his sword and grabbed the vine with his bare hands. He ripped it away from Targon’s neck.

The captain collapsed to his knees, wheezing as he gasped for air. Vlerion rested a hand on his back and looked at Kaylina.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. It didn’t attack me.”

“Because she’s not a ranger,” Targon rasped.

Vlerion opened his mouth, a yet forming, but he glanced at the walls and didn’t voice it.

Yes, Kaylina would prefer the curse not know she was training for that…

“If any other man had been swinging that close to my throat with a sword,” Targon said, knuckles pressed into the floor for support, “I would have wet myself.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do that when the vine first wrapped around your neck.” Vlerion looked around. “It is damp here.”

“That’s the girl’s honey water.”

“If you say so.”

They shared grim laughs and thumped each other’s fists.

“I left your brother in Doc Penderbrock’s infirmary,” Vlerion told Kaylina. “His ribs have been wrapped, and he’s received painkillers. I thought about bringing him back to the castle but figured he might rest easier elsewhere.”

“If I’d known free lodgings were involved, I would have gone with you.” Kaylina closed her mouth. She shouldn’t complain or even joke about the castle. It hadn’t tried to kill her.

“Offer the girl a bed, Vlerion,” Targon said. “She helped me. She might have stood back and cheered that thing on.”

Kaylina grimaced. She hadn’t cheered, but she hadn’t been effective. If Vlerion hadn’t shown up, she would have been forced to watch Targon die, exactly as the rangers in her visions had.

Vlerion smiled, meeting Kaylina’s eyes. “She’s a better person than that.”

She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve the look, but it warmed her.

“You think so?” Targon didn’t sound as appreciative. “She’s incapable of saying my lord without being sarcastic. I insist you instruct her on proper respect.”

“There’s not a lot she says without sarcasm.”

“That’s a fault, not something to admire.”

“Sorry, Captain.” Vlerion’s smile shifted to a smirk.

“Let’s check the catacombs.” Targon used the wall for support as he grabbed his sword and pushed himself to his feet. “Never thought I’d say they sound cozy and appealing after being in here, but I’ll joyously leap into them tonight.”

“Yes.” Letting Targon lead, Vlerion reached for Kaylina before following. “What do you want to do? Not go back down there, I suspect.”

“No, but if you find out who started the fire, I’d like to know.” She stepped closer, and he rested a hand on her shoulder. She had to resist the urge to lean against him.

“Of course.” He squeezed her shoulder. “The barracks are an option if you want to sleep elsewhere.”

“Let me think about it.”

Kaylina looked at the hole above, but the plant continued to glow red. Nothing had changed.