Chapter 26

As surely as drink,fatigue brings honesty and a lowering of defenses.

~ Spymaster Yeroknor the Senior

Kaylina sat on the ground with her back to the courtyard wall, the castle dark and quiet behind it, the river rippling softly as water flowed past in front of her. Snow dusted her shoulders, and cold seeped into her from the ground and the wall, but she felt numb to it. Maybe it was fatigue, but she felt numb to everything.

The carboys and bottles of mead she’d salvaged from the root cellar lined the wall beside her. The fire hadn’t damaged them, but someone had indeed stolen several bottles. Another bottle had been cracked and was leaking, so she’d grabbed a mug and was drinking the mead. More than she should, most likely, as she’d given herself a buzz, but the thought of letting her grandpa’s prize honey go to waste disturbed her almost as much as everything else going on around her.

The part of her mind that nagged her to be a normal, functioning human being kept telling her to put the mead away and go check on her brother. But such weariness cloaked her that even getting up felt like an impossible task. Besides, Targon and Vlerion hadn’t returned from the catacombs.

But would they? They might not return through her root cellar, instead coming up in another part of the city, off to handle whatever new mess they’d unearthed down there. Maybe they would forget about her. She didn’t know why they wouldn’t. What was she to them?

She took a long drink from her mug, the sweet mead chilled by the same air that seeped into her bones.

“There you are.” Vlerion stepped through the gate, his cloak and hood hiding his features as he looked down at her.

“I’ve heroically salvaged the mead.” Kaylina raised her mug.

“A noble deed, I’m certain.”

“Yup.” She drank again, welcoming the fuzzy numbness creeping into her mind.

“We didn’t encounter anyone in the catacombs, but the barricade was broken again. We’ll have to bring masons down to build a more substantial barrier. We should have done that to begin with, but we’ve been inconsistent about defending the castle access point. Some felt it was better to know where the criminals were coming and going rather than forcing them to use another exit we didn’t know about. Catacombs access points are all over the city. A nursery on Fountain and Second has one in the basement.”

“Any evidence that the arsonists came in from the catacombs?” Kaylina suspected so, but the broken kerosene bottle in the pantry didn’t prove it.

“We did find a half-empty bottle of kerosene and some matches at the dock. Also another crate of munitions. Targon used the supplies to burn down the dock, though that will only inconvenience the Virts slightly. He took off to gather some men to flush the catacombs completely. Or as completely as one can. Between all the levels down there, there are probably more miles of tunnels than there are roads in the city.” Vlerion cocked his head. “You told Targon the Virts are planning to assassinate the king tomorrow night?”

“The girl—Milzy—told me something big is going to happen then—a regime change. I think your captain already knew they were planning an assassination. Milzy wanted me to use my vast powers of befriending animals with honey to let all the taybarri out of the stable and distract you rangers.”

“So Targon said.” Vlerion’s tone was neutral, and he gazed down at her. “Did you know he was listening in on the conversation? Did she?”

“I had a hunch, a feeling that someone was watching me. I don’t know if Milzy did or not. I’m not sure why she would have expected the ranger captain to be skulking in my kitchen.”

“It depends on how much the Virts know about our relationship with you and the castle. We haven’t done a good job of staying away, and you told Targon some other woman has been spying on you?”

“Jana. A mead maker. My competition.”

“I know who she is. She’s not known to have a connection to the Virts, but it may only be that we haven’t discovered it yet. If the information this Milzy told you is accurate and the Virts don’t know you’ve been working with us… it’s invaluable. We’ve known they’re preparing for an attack, and that they want to overthrow the existing regime, but we haven’t been able to find out when they’re going to strike. Tomorrow night, we can have men watching the harbor and lying in wait in the royal castle.”

Kaylina raised the mug again in a salute. “Then I’ll hope it’s accurate information and you’re able to save the king.”

“Yes, though they must plan to do more than assassinate him. Otherwise, Prince Enrikon will take over, and that might be even worse for what they want.”

“Maybe they’re going after both.”

“That’s possible, but there are dozens of people with blood ties to the crown who would be available to step up. The Virts want a whole new system of government. Though I suppose they could have ties to some of the potential heirs. Maybe they’ve got someone in mind who will agree to make changes if they’re put in power. I don’t know. I’m away on the border a lot and am not as in the loop on government matters as I should be.”

The discussion was giving Kaylina a headache. In all her years, she’d never had to pay attention to the monarchy or care who was in charge. Keeping the Spitting Gull in the black and fending off pirates were her family’s primary concerns.

“The Virts must be the ones who stole my mead. Bastards.” She took another sip. The back of her mind spoke up again, suggesting she shouldn’t let herself get drunk around Vlerion. She might do something foolish.

“Naturally. Planning assassinations and insurrections is thirsty work.”

“Try some?” She held the mug up toward him.

“No. Do you wish to visit your brother and spend the night in the barracks? I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“What about my friends?” Kaylina patted the nearest carboy.

“I can get a wagon so you can bring them. Or did you mean to imply the alcohol would keep you safe if you stay here tonight?”

“It’s not that wondrous.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. “Sorry. Am I being exasperating?”

She didn’t know why she asked. If the answer was yes, she would feel stung. After the day’s events, her emotions floated near the surface, raw and abraded.

“No. You’re exhausted.” Vlerion spotted someone in a uniform crossing the bridge a block away, held a finger up to Kaylina, and trotted off to talk to the man.

She couldn’t hear what he said, but he soon returned and settled next to her on the ground, his back to the wall, his shoulder brushing hers. That was nice. Too bad he didn’t want to join her in a drink.

“A wagon will come soon,” he said.

“Thanks. You’re right. I am tired.” She let herself lean against his shoulder.

At first, he stiffened, and she thought he would shift away. But he looked at her and must have reconsidered. He draped an arm around her shoulders.

Oh, that was more than nice. She slumped more fully against him.

“Everything is screwed up,” Kaylina whispered. “If I’d known we were coming north into the middle of a rebellion… Oh, I don’t know. I might still have left. I lost my temper with my family and stuck my foot in my mouth, said some things I regret—you’ve seen that I’m good at that. I think I fled because I was too proud to stay after my defiant blathering. It wasn’t that premeditated. If Frayvar hadn’t come along and brought some funds, I would have starved by now. In my dreams, I always have these grand ideas, but in reality, I’m…” She swallowed, aware that the drink was making her overshare, much as she had under the influence of that drug. But it was hard to stop speaking. She needed to confess to someone, and Vlerion was here. “I’m a screwup who can’t get her act together.”

“You have the potential to be many things.” Vlerion pushed back his hood to reveal his short hair and face. “A mead maker, certainly, but during the brief time we spent together training, I saw your athleticism. You were also smart enough to realize you couldn’t take a huge swing at me with the staff without upending yourself and falling in the water. You’d be surprised how many recruits don’t have the foresight to understand that before they try. Then there’s your marksmanship ability. And your knack with the animals… It may not matter what my mother says, however influential she is, to Targon. He wants you in the rangers. He sees your potential too.”

“Potential isn’t the problem, though I appreciate you thinking I’ve got some. It’s keeping from sabotaging myself. I don’t know why that’s so hard.”

“I know all about self-sabotage,” he said dryly.

Puzzled, Kaylina looked at him. It took her a long moment to realize he had to be talking about the curse, about how he sometimes failed to maintain his equanimity and keep the beast from taking over. That hardly seemed like a fault though, since it was something he couldn’t fully control. He was human, and humans weren’t perfect. She understood that and could forgive others their flaws more than she could herself.

“You almost lost it in the castle, didn’t you?” Kaylina whispered, studying his face though his mask was in place again. At first, she’d found it infuriating. Now she understood why he so carefully kept it up.

“Yes. And if I had, I might have killed you and Targon as well as shredding that plant.”

The blunt words were chilling, even though that was exactly what she’d worried about. But she didn’t want him to think she’d been concerned at the time—or was uncomfortable being beside him now—so she strove for a light tone when she said, “Who would have guessed that a wayward plant could infuriate you more than a horde of men trying to kill you?”

His response was serious. “People, animals, or plants trying to kill me—that last being admittedly rare—don’t typically present a problem. I have a lot of practice keeping my calm in battle. And I can deal with the irritations of human beings in general.” An eyebrow twitch was his only indication that he referred to some of their conversations. “I’ve had practice at that too. But no amount of practice prepares you for the overwhelming emotions that arise when someone you care about is in danger.”

“Ah. I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about Captain Targon. He’s… kind of a dick.”

Vlerion snorted. “I’ve known him a long time.”

“You’re not that old are you?” She’d thought they were similar in age, that he might have two or three years on her but not much more. “How long have you been a ranger?”

“Six years, but my brother was one before me, and I knew Targon before he became captain. They were friends, and he’s especially watched out for me since my brother… passed.”

Was killed, her mind corrected. “Did Targon have anything to do with that?”

His mother had said rangers had taken his brother down.

“Not directly, but he felt responsible. Once he was made captain, Vlarek told him our family secret. Vlarek felt the captain of the rangers needed to know.”

“I guess that makes sense. How many people know?” Kaylina wondered how rare of company she now kept.

“The king and some of his aides and confidants. Probably the prince, though I’m not certain. We haven’t spent much time together, but it’s a matter of kingdom security since, when we change…” Vlerion spread his palm.

People died. Right.

“Among the rangers, not many,” he continued. “Among the aristocracy, even fewer. Among the proletariat, I hope none, but, as I told you, I worry about the Virts discovering the secret and using it against my family. Maybe even to rally their own people. Generations of Havartafts have killed innocents when the beast has taken over, murdered them essentially.” He winced. “It’s unacceptable. We should have been put to death long ago. All of us. The curse could be ended by destroying every male Havartaft.”

Kaylina shook her head, horrified by the idea that Vlerion might be killed because of something he had no power to stop, something he was only affected by because a distant ancestor had wanted to feed his people during a famine.

“It’s not your fault.” She caught herself lifting a hand to touch his jaw before remembering his mother’s words, that she could be a danger to him as surely as an attack in battle. “And it’s not fair.”

“A gripe I’ve often made,” he said. “Especially after I lost my brother. I struggled to control my emotions then and spent a lot of time as the beast. The memories of what I do in that state are always vague and blurry, but I don’t forget completely. It’s hard to forget when you wake in your human form the next day with someone’s blood dried on your bare chest. The horrors of what I did are what forced me to get myself together, to lock away my feelings about my brother’s end. I cried at the funeral pyre but not after that, though my mother railed at me for being distant. Even though she understood, she struggled to accept it. Then, at least. Now she knows and does her best to protect me.”

Kaylina almost drew her hand back, but she didn’t want him to feel it was a rejection, that she blamed him for the curse.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmured again. “It’s not self-sabotage.”

She brushed her fingers along his jaw, feeling the late-day beard stubble, and longed to let her hand drift higher. To stroke his face, to push her fingers through his short hair, to rub his warm scalp…

Vlerion closed his eyes and lowered his head toward her, as if offering it for a rub. She ran her fingers over his scarred scalp, wanting to soothe him, to promise she wouldn’t judge him. Maybe sheshould have, if innocent people had died to his deadly claws, but she couldn’t find it within herself to do so. He’d saved her with those claws.

He exhaled slowly, as if relaxing under her ministrations, but there was a hint of a rumble to his breath, almost a growl. She flashed back to his neck rub in the catacombs and of sitting in front of him on the taybarri with his hard body behind hers. Heat crept into her. Desire.

By all the moon gods, she wanted to scoot closer and kiss him. To have him touch her. But they couldn’t risk doing anything. He probably didn’t even have feelings for her.

Or did he?

Kaylina knew that she irritated and exasperated him, but he was sitting here with her now, far closer than he needed to be while they waited for the wagon. That was evidence of caring, wasn’t it?

“You changed in the catacombs.” She spoke the words as a realization. “I’d assumed because fighting those men made you lose control, but you’ve since said…” She raised her eyebrows.

Vlerion lifted his eyes to meet hers, his gaze steamy through his lashes, steamy and intense.

A longing to kiss him rose up from her core, spreading heat throughout her body, but that glint had entered Vlerion’s eyes, the one she now recognized as danger. Maybe she had all along.

Her hand stilled, her entire body freezing. His mother’s warning rang in her mind. She was playing with fire.

Stupidly, that knowledge didn’t steal her desire to kiss him. His lips, slightly parted, drew her. She longed to crawl into his lap and—

Vlerion closed his eyes. He didn’t hum this time, but she sensed him withdrawing, gathering his calm, reaffixing the mask.

“Are you asking if I feel as strongly about you as I do Targon?” He sounded dry, even amused, as if she’d asked a silly thing.

“Well, I’d hope they would be a different kind of feelings.” Kaylina struggled not to be stung by the implied dismissal.

Vlerion leaned back, removing his arm from her shoulders. The distance made her hand drop from his head.

“My mother raised me to be disturbed by seeing women in danger, to want to protect them.” He shrugged.

“Ah.” That was noble, she supposed, but such disappointment swelled in her that it surprised her. She hadn’t consciously realized she wanted him to say he cared, but she must have. Why, she didn’t know. She hadn’t known him that long, and they were different. Too different. “So any girl being chomped on by a furry shark would have made you turn?”

“Likely so.”

A clattering of wheels on cobblestones alerted them to a wagon approaching, and Vlerion rose, lifting a hand to the driver.

Kaylina blew out a long breath. She was slower to rise, and when she did, she needed the wall for support. The mead had made her unwise, and she was glad she hadn’t succeeded in doing… whatever the libidinous part of her brain thought it wanted.

“Maybe I’ll stay here,” she said.

“Your brother needs you.”

“I thought he was safe?” She searched Vlerion’s eyes.

“He’s been tended, but he’s bereft without your companionship.”

“I’m positive he didn’t say that.”

“I could tell.”

Kaylina did feel obligated to check on Frayvar. “All right.”

“I’ve observed something about you.” Vlerion picked up her bottles of mead to load carefully into the wagon.

“I’m not sure whether to ask what or hope you won’t tell me.” She didn’t want to be analyzed.

“You’ll move the world to help those you care about. You have a hard time moving even your own body to help yourself.”

“That’s not true,” she said more out of reflex than because he was wrong. When he looked frankly at her, she amended her statement. “That’s not always true. Sometimes, I’m full of energy, and I have these great dreams and visions of a future I can make. Then I can move myself. But other times, I’m too tired, and everything is much harder. You can’t blame me for being tired after this day.” She flung a hand toward the castle, then immediately felt guilty. He was the one who’d risked his life to heave that rack off Frayvar. And he was the one who spent every day concentrating on staying calm in a world full of angst, lest he turn into a beast. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t complain. A normal person wouldn’t complain about little things.”

“It’s all right.”

“Domas always told me I’m not normal.”

No, he’d asked why she couldn’t be normal.

“Who is that?”

“Someone I had a relationship with. It’s over.”

“Ah.” As they finished loading the mead, Vlerion said, “For what it’s worth, I’ve observed that normal people complain a lot.”

“I suppose.”

“I’ll come for you at dawn for training.” Vlerion helped her into the wagon, then stepped back. Maybe he needed to return to the catacombs. “The king has a speech at noon, after which the Spring Salutation Holiday starts, and the rangers will need to position themselves in case there is an attack tomorrow night. We’ll work out early. As we discussed, you have potential we must unlock.”

“Won’t that be fun?” she murmured.

Unfortunately, she knew it wasn’t her mead-making ability that the rangers wanted.