Chapter 12

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Chapter 12

The ride back to the palace was quiet. Night was falling outside, and Oriane stared at the growing shadows beyond the carriage window, her thoughts tumbling over one another in a fast-flowing, never-ending stream.

‘What's going on?'

Kitt's question broke her reverie as the carriage pulled up. Out the window, a crowd of servants rushed about in the palace courtyard, lanterns in hand, as if they were searching for something in the encroaching dark.

‘She's here,' cried a young woman in an apron, pointing Oriane's way as she emerged from the carriage. ‘She's here!'

A dozen people swarmed towards them, others dashing back up the steps into the palace. Oriane exchanged a worried glance with Kitt.

‘Let's go,' he said, steering her towards the palace, the crowd parting like water around them.

‘You'd best be careful, Lord Kittrick, sir,' murmured an older man in a dirt-covered apron as they passed. ‘He's on the warpath.'

‘He?' Oriane asked Kitt desperately as he nodded to the man and ferried her past. He didn't respond, merely picked up his pace.

Oriane's stomach flipped unpleasantly as they headed towards the audience hall, where her dawnsong performances took place. 91 The sound of raised voices grew louder as they approached. Worry tightened Oriane's chest. What was going on?

Finally, the enormous doors to the hall loomed before them. But as Kitt stretched out a hand to push them open, they burst inward, the king's voice booming out.

‘… is she now, you fool? Why you didn't bring her direct—'

King Tomas cut himself off as he saw them. Oriane almost shied away: it was as if an entirely different person stood before her, one she'd never set eyes on before. Anger emanated from the king like heat, making him seem twice as tall. His blue eyes were strangely wide and burning with an unfamiliar fire.

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Tomas said, in a low, dangerous voice, ‘Inside.'

Kitt and Oriane followed him into the hall. A handful of servants hovered inside, but they didn't need to be told to disperse. They fled like sparrows before a hawk, disappearing through side doors and leaving the pair alone with the king.

Oriane was having trouble catching her breath. Kitt stood a little ahead of her, almost as if he hoped to shield her from view.

King Tomas ascended the steps to the raised platform that Oriane had grown so used to in recent days. She noted that, for the first time since her arrival, the throne had been reinstated there. It was a modest thing, for a throne, made of a handsome, dark wood, but plain and unadorned. Still, it carried an aura of power about it. Or perhaps that was Tomas. As he settled himself upon it, he looked more regal than Oriane had ever seen him – nothing like the easy, benevolent ruler she had met on her first day here. Here sat a different kind of king, one who roused a faint flicker of unease in her breast.

He regarded them for a moment, his eyes lingering on Oriane. Then he spoke again in that same soft, unsettling voice. 92

‘Where have you been?'

‘Just to the city,' said Kitt immediately. ‘I had a meeting with an alchemist, and I thought Oriane might like to see Aubrille for the first time.'

Oriane's eyes flicked towards him. He was framing their city visit as his idea, and not hers or Andala's. She wasn't sure why.

‘You did not inform me,' Tomas said, turning to Kitt.

Kitt sounded slightly puzzled as he replied, ‘I did not know I needed to.'

It seemed the wrong thing to say. Tomas closed his eyes, and an unpleasant, humourless smile spread across his face. ‘You did not know you needed to,' he repeated, two fingers at his temple as if he nursed a headache. ‘You did not think it the least bit wise to give me notice of your plans to remove the skylark from the palace? To take her into the city, where any crook or common fool might see her and get ideas?'

To Oriane's surprise, Kitt laughed at this. ‘They don't know who she is, Tomas,' he said. ‘She was in no—'

Tomas's eyes flew open. ‘I am your king, and you will address me as such.'

Kitt fell silent.

‘What guarantee have you that they do not know?' the king barked. ‘How could you possibly be sure that word has not spread, the way word so often tends to do? How in the skies can you be certain that nobody spotted her for what she is?'

‘I-I apologise, my king,' Kitt murmured. His fists, Oriane saw, were clenched very tightly at his sides. ‘You are right. It was unwise of me. But I confess I did not know you had planned to keep her like a secret—'

‘What do you mean, you didn't know? Of course you knew! Why else would I not have invited the whole world to see her yet? Why else 93 would she still be under lock and key, with only a scant handful of people allowed to watch her every morning? I have a plan, Kittrick, and your foolhardiness might well have blown it all to hell!'

Oriane stood frozen through his outburst. If she were not so shocked, she might have been angry. This was her he was speaking about – her, Oriane, a person, not just the skylark, not just a bird he kept like a pet or a possession. A plan – what was his plan for her?

Her mind churned furiously, catching on another phrase the king had spoken, one that sparked her shock into something more like fear: under lock and key.

Kitt had opened his mouth to respond, but Tomas cut him off with a wave. ‘Leave,' he ordered, no longer looking at either of them. ‘Take the skylark to her room, Kittrick. She stays there until morning.'

Although the hint of fear kept Oriane's feet glued to the ground, some self-protective instinct kicked in. ‘My king,' she blurted, before she could lose the nerve to demand some kind of explanation.

But as if he had not heard her, Tomas rose from his throne and stormed away, leaving her and Kitt alone.

They moved in silence towards her chambers. The scant servants they passed cast furtive glances their way. Everyone knew of the king's displeasure, it seemed. Everyone knew it concerned her. She was relieved when they reached the sanctuary of her room, but as Kitt opened the door for her, she paused, a whisper of suspicion bringing her up short.

She looked at Kitt with fresh eyes. He was one of Tomas's advisors – his friend. Was he a part of the plan the king had mentioned? Was all his kindness towards her just a ruse?

‘Are you all right?' he asked her, and his look of concern was so clearly genuine that Oriane felt a twinge of guilt for doubting his 94 intentions. She did not quite know how to read people properly, not yet, but she did know kindness. It ran in her father's blood, had suffused every aspect of her upbringing, and she recognised it in Kitt.

Before Oriane could answer him, Andala stumbled around the corner, pale and panting slightly. ‘Kitt—'

‘I know.'

Kitt ushered them both inside, then began pacing the floor in front of Oriane's unlit fireplace. His face had an ashen cast to it.

‘I heard what happened,' Andala said. ‘I saw Tomas. I haven't seen him like that since—'

‘I know,' said Kitt again.

‘What is going on?' asked Oriane quietly. ‘Why was he so angry ?'

Kitt ceased his pacing and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don't know. He used to get like this sometimes, right after he first became king – flying off the handle at the slightest provocation. Like Andala said, though, he hasn't been like that for a long while now.' He turned to Oriane. ‘He shouldn't have spoken to you like that. About you like that. I'm sorry, Oriane. I'll talk to him. Find out what's going on.'

‘Be careful,' Andala said immediately, as he moved to the door. ‘I don't like the look of him at the moment. Don't get on his bad side.'

‘I'll be fine,' Kitt said distantly. His mind already seemed to be outside the room. Before he left, he glanced at Oriane. ‘Try not to worry. You're in no danger here. I'll make sure of it.'

After he had gone, Andala began lighting up the steadily darkening room.

‘Andala?'

She didn't look up from her work, but murmured, ‘Hmm?'

‘Do you think Kitt's right? That I'm not in any danger?'

Her back to Oriane, Andala paused, straightened. Then she turned and gave a brief, tight-lipped smile. ‘Of course he's right. 95 He knows Tomas. This was just a misunderstanding; he'll get to the bottom of it. And besides – you're the skylark, Oriane. Nobody would harm you, least of all the king.' She smiled again, but Oriane wasn't sure it reached her eyes. ‘Who would call forth the day if he did?'

Oriane nodded, but somehow, the words didn't sound as comforting as she thought Andala had meant them to.

Soon every lamp and candle in the room was lit, the soft glow an instant source of comfort. Outside, the sky was completing its slow fade from blue to black. Her tasks complete, Andala made her way to the door, where she asked Oriane if there was anything she needed.

Oriane had the sudden urge to ask her to stay. But it was a foolish impulse – she was being stupid. Andala had said it herself: there was nothing to fear.

So Oriane bid her good evening and moved to the window, where she watched the night bloom like a pitch-black flower.

She passed an all but sleepless night, tossing and turning as she worried about what the morning would bring. But the king's demeanour – somewhat jarringly – was back to its usual easy warmth as he greeted Oriane before her dawnsong. Perhaps Kitt had been able to calm him down.

Beside the king, by contrast, Hana looked worn-out and vacant, as if she were in the room in body only. As Oriane dipped and flew about, dawnsong streaming from her beak, she spied Tomas murmuring to his sister in a low voice. Hana did not respond.

After her song was done and the sun beamed gold through the windows, Oriane transformed, expecting the usual barrage 96 of questions and well wishes. But Terault, emerging from his inconspicuous post at the rear of the room, began to escort the watchers out. They could speak with her another time, she heard him explain. The king had important business with the skylark today.

Oriane's nerves returned in full force. But the king drew near cautiously, as one might approach a spooked horse.

‘My lady,' he began quietly. ‘I owe you an apology. Yesterday, my behaviour – well, it was far from kingly. You, of all people, do not deserve to be treated in such a way. I was—' He cut himself off, and after a blink and an indrawn breath, he finished simply, ‘I am sorry. Please forgive me.'

Whatever Oriane had been expecting, it hadn't been an apology. She remained silent, unsure how to respond. The remorse in his expression seemed sincere. The irate stranger from yesterday was gone. This was the King Tomas she had first met: an earnest man who believed her song was magic, and wanted nothing more than to give his people hope.

‘There is nothing to forgive, my king,' she finally replied.

Relief washed over Tomas's face. He grinned at her, genuine and full of warmth, and she could not help but smile back.

‘It is bold of me, I know, to ask a favour so closely on the heels of asking forgiveness,' he said. ‘But …'

He turned to his sister, who had stood silent behind him throughout the exchange. Oriane glanced at her in surprise. Hana looked a little more present now, but there was an air of unease in her demeanour, a faint sense of reluctance as she stepped forward.

‘My sister,' King Tomas went on, ‘is in need of companionship. It can be a lonely life at court sometimes, and I thought – that is to say, we thought – you might be the perfect person to spend some time with her. During the days, after you have performed.' 97

‘Oh,' Oriane said, a little taken aback. She was flattered, of course, to be considered worthy of becoming a companion to the princess – but the request seemed a little odd, and out of the blue. ‘Me?' she asked, looking between Tomas and Hana for confirmation. Why me? sounded the unspoken question.

The king opened his mouth to respond, but Hana answered first. ‘We thought you might know something of loneliness yourself, Lady Lark.'

Oriane felt herself flush. The princess was right, of course. Oriane did know what it was like to be lonely, to crave friendship. Perhaps Hana did too. Perhaps they had more in common than she thought.

She dropped into the best curtsey she could manage, the movement still foreign and awkward. ‘It would be an honour to spend time with you, Your Highness.'

A corner of Hana's mouth quirked. ‘Only if you swear never to curtsey to me or call me "Your Highness" again.'

Oriane's face warmed once more, but she soon realised Hana was joking – the way Kitt and Andala joked with each other; the way friends seemed to do. She smiled tentatively at the princess, whom she could have sworn winked back at her.

‘Excellent!' Beaming, King Tomas clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the hall. ‘I'll have Terault escort you—'

‘I know my way to my own rooms, Tomas,' Hana cut in with an eyeroll. ‘I think Oriane and I can manage on our own.'

They bade him farewell and began moving through the corridors, Oriane trailing slightly behind Hana like a pup at its master's heels. The princess was light on her feet, and silent. Oriane grasped mentally for a topic of conversation and found none. What foolishness had made her think she had anything in common with a princess? Hana must think her a dullard already. 98

‘Here we are,' the princess announced. They had arrived before a large set of doors, which Hana pushed open to reveal her rooms.

Oriane blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the sheer size of the space. Her cottage could fit inside here three times over.

Hana's maids brought a tray of tea, and Oriane sat before the banked fire with the princess, trying not to appear as out of place and awkward as she felt. Hana seemed at ease, at least. She poured a cup for both of them and made polite conversation. Slowly, the tea and talk began to thaw Oriane's stiffness. Before she knew it, the pot was nearly finished, and she had begun to enjoy herself.

‘Right,' Hana said, draining her cup and standing. ‘I had thought we'd have a game of chess – that's if you play, of course – but I find myself with a mountain of things to do today.' She glided across to a desk, covered in official-looking papers and documents, that sat before one of the windows. ‘Letters, contracts, appeals – I look over them for Tomas sometimes,' she explained. ‘Filter the important bits from the fawning drivel, make recommendations on matters he doesn't have time for, that sort of thing.'

Oriane was puzzled. ‘Is that not … the sort of thing Lord Terault would help him with?' she ventured.

‘You would think so, wouldn't you?' Hana's tone was mild, but something about it suggested she wasn't overly fond of the king's seneschal. ‘But actually,' she went on, ‘I don't mind doing this kind of thing. I enjoy it a sight more than Tomas does, anyway. He hates all the ins and outs of governing and politics.'

Oriane frowned. ‘But he is …'

Hana raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking as if she'd read Oriane's thoughts. ‘The king? Yes, I know. Part and parcel, and all that. He knows that, too. He's tried to be better at all this, to put as much heart into it as he does the other parts of the role. But he doesn't 99 really have a head for it, and – well, I suppose I do.' She shrugged. ‘We may be twins, but in many ways we are quite the opposite of one another.'

Oriane blinked. ‘ Twins? '

She'd spoken before she could stop herself. Still looking mildly amused, Hana raised her eyes from the document she'd been studying and nodded. She considered Oriane, as if trying to decide something, then turned back to the paper. ‘I'm actually the elder sibling, when it comes down to it. I was born an hour before Tomas.'

Oriane had to stop her mouth from falling open. She had always assumed Tomas to be the elder sibling. Nothing she'd read had mentioned the pair were twins. ‘But – wouldn't that have made you the heir to your mother's throne? Would it not have put you in line for it since birth?'

‘I suppose. It never really came up when we were children, though. Most people, us included, seemed to think our mother would simply live forever.'

A shiver traced down Oriane's spine, her father's voice echoing in her head: You will never die .

‘The rest just assumed it would be Tomas to succeed her, I think,' Hana continued. ‘Him being so kingly -looking, and a man, and all of that.' There was humour in the words, but no real malice. It seemed the princess bore no ill will towards her brother. Indeed, her expression softened as she went on. ‘Tomas was never really interested in ruling. I can't say what kind of life he envisioned for himself, but I'm not entirely sure it was this.'

‘Yet … yet he still ascended the throne in your stead?' Oriane probed gently.

‘He had no choice,' Hana said, a little defensively. ‘Neither of us did. Our mother's rule was strong. You might have noticed, Oriane, 100 that I'm not in the best of health, and a sick queen could only be a weak one.'

She picked up a quill, dipped it in an inkpot, touched it to the paper before her. The action was a full stop on a sentence, her next words closing the cover on the conversation.

‘Things are the way they should be.'