Chapter 42
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Chapter 42
That night, Andala dreamed of the sea.
It was a mark of her exhaustion that she was able to sleep at all, with the day's torrent of emotions still coursing through her. But when she did, it was the sea into which she sank. She had seen it once, with Girard, when they'd first left Fenbrook. They'd gone out to the coast to look at it together: the vast blanket of blue spread out like a gift before them, a picture of possibility, stretching as far as the distant horizon; further.
The ocean in her dreams was nothing like it.
This was a black sea. An angry sea. A vicious void of churning water that threatened to suck her down, hold her under. She flew high above it, her nightingale's wings beating furiously against the wind. It was night – or was it day? The light had a strange quality to it, an otherworldly mix of bright and dark. Andala struggled to stay aloft. She looked ahead, hoping to see Oriane flying before her, or at least the faint speck of a distant island on the horizon, calling them home.
Instead, she saw nothing but dark water as her wings failed her and she fell.
No, they didn't fail her. They deserted her entirely. She was the nightingale no longer. She was herself again, human again, and her 328 human body was heavy and falling, falling, falling, the ocean rushing up to meet her—
‘Andala?'
She wrenched upright in bed, sucking in a great gasp of air.
It took her a moment to realise where she was, to orient herself in her little inn room. A faint hint of light bled through the gap in the curtains at her window.
That meant Oriane was awake, that she'd sung.
Relief swept through Andala as she pulled a robe over her borrowed nightgown. Oriane was well enough to change, to sing. She'd looked ghostly by the time they'd finished in the library last night. Her warm brown skin had been ashen, her freckles standing out sharply on her face, even in the low light. She'd been happy when they'd finally found Ile Deiale, but she was still deep in the throes of grief. Even if they made it to the island, Andala knew that sorrow would follow her there.
‘Andala, are you in there?'
It was Kitt's voice out in the hall. She'd slipped a note under his door last night, letting him know what they'd found. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she pulled it open to find him dressed and ready.
‘I'm going with you,' he said immediately. ‘Don't bother protesting, it isn't up for debate. We'll leave within the hour. But Tomas wants to see you first.'
They met the king in the library – just Andala and Oriane. Kitt had excused himself to make preparations for the trip. Andala found it impossibly strange to see King Tomas here, standing among the books in the tiny town she used to call home. But the king was 329 almost unrecognisable himself. He was dishevelled, and looked as if he had not slept in days. The skin under his eyes was smudged with shadows, which bled into a nasty bruise on one side of his face.
‘I mean to offer an apology,' he said without preamble, the moment Andala had closed the door behind them. ‘To both of you.'
Andala hadn't expected this. She stole a glance at Oriane. Her usually soft features were hard as flint. Tomas's words were a whetstone, making her eyes spark and sharpen. She was still angry. Andala did not blame her. She'd told Oriane the truth about why Tomas had sought out the skylark, and Oriane's sympathy for the king and Hana had seemed to temper her wrath a little. But she had not yet forgiven him for his role in her father's death.
‘I know I've said it before,' Tomas went on. ‘To you, at least, Oriane. And I realise that I could say it again, a dozen, a hundred times over, and it would not be enough. But I have not apologised to you, Andala.'
She blinked, taken aback. ‘Why would you apologise to me?'
Tomas sighed. He looked worn, defeated, older than he was. ‘Because you are a skysinger, just like Oriane, and I have not done right by you either, as a king of the Meridean line.' He walked over to the dormant fireplace, ran a finger down its mantle. ‘Before she died, my mother meant to charge me with an important duty. Well, more accurately, her successor. Back then, that was Hana.'
He looked across the room, and Andala started at the sight of the princess, curled up in an armchair. She had not even noticed Hana was there. The princess focused on her brother, but did not speak.
‘Death came for her before she could pass on her message directly,' Tomas continued. ‘But she wrote it down in a letter, which she hid away … Hana found it, only a few days ago, secreted away in the library. In the message, our mother spoke of our sacred responsibility 330 as rulers of Cielore – all the usual guidance you'd expect about protecting our people and bettering our nation, but an additional duty, too: one particular to our family line, handed down since the days of the first Meridean queen.'
Guilt roiled in Tomas's eyes, a sweeping undercurrent of shame.
‘We were sworn to protect the skysingers. Every Meridean ruler. To serve you, just as we pledge to serve the Cieloran people.'
Andala blinked, then opened her mouth – to say what, she hardly knew – but Oriane spoke first.
‘Serve us? I thought your family had forgotten we existed.'
Tomas shook his head. ‘We were the ones tasked with remembering. Long ago, the skysingers were worshipped as the gods they are. Both of them,' he added, nodding towards Andala. ‘But the nightingales eventually went into hiding, for what reason we can only speculate. We know why the skylarks did the same, though. They had found themselves in danger from the very people who sought to exalt them. And our ancestor, the first Meridean queen, swore an oath to protect the skylarks, then and ever after, an oath every Meridean ruler has secretly taken since – to remember the larks, but to keep them hidden from the world, for their own peace and safety.' His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of some invisible burden. ‘It is an oath I've failed to uphold.'
‘Your family was protecting the skylarks?' Andala asked.
Oriane was frowning again. ‘But Terault said—'
‘I know what Terault said,' Tomas cut in, his tone bitter. ‘He lied. About this, about so many other things. He has been lying to me for years. And I am fool enough to have believed him.' He began to pace the room, stopping and starting erratically, straightening objects at random. ‘What he told you that first day you arrived, Oriane – about my ancestors forgetting the skylark faith, moving on and abandoning 331 it in favour of their own power and influence – he knew it wasn't the truth. I think he did, at least. Either way, he used that story, that line of thinking, to convince me that it was time to right the wrongs my family line had perpetuated for centuries. He told me it would make me a good king – a beloved king – the king who brought the skylark back. But he also told me …'
Tomas stilled, his back to Andala and Oriane. He had paused beside Hana. The princess was silent, staring into the empty fireplace as her brother rested a tentative hand on the back of her chair.
‘Terault also told me – convinced me – that if I found the skylark, she would be able to cure Hana's … ailment, through the healing power of her song. You knew this, Andala. And I regret that I never had the chance to tell you, Oriane.'
Andala tried not to stare at Oriane, but she couldn't help it. Her face was so open, so expressive, every emotion upon it plain to see: sympathy for the princess, softening the harder edges of her anger; regret that Tomas's plan had not worked.
‘I'm sorry,' Oriane said after a moment, and her words were not directed at Tomas, but at Hana. ‘I'm sorry I couldn't help you.'
Hana looked up at Oriane. Her eyes, a lighter blue than her brother's, were clear and free of tears. She opened her mouth to respond, but Tomas spoke before she could.
‘I must ask one thing further of you. I know you are both leaving today. But before you go – I ask that you try one more time. I beg you to sing to Hana together .'
As what Tomas was saying sank in, outrage rose within Andala, roaring like a column of flame. How dare he ask anything else of Oriane, after all he'd done? And she had no idea why he was asking it anyway. The lark and the nightingale, singing together – what effect did he expect that strange symphony would have? 332
It soon became clear. ‘It must work,' the king was saying as he resumed his frenzied pacing. ‘That must be the key – for the healing powers to work, both skysingers must have to sing together. It all makes sense. And now, for the first time in so many hundred years …' He stopped abruptly before Andala and Oriane, eyes fever-bright as he looked between them. ‘You're together. United. Between the two of you, your song will be able to heal her. Terault may be a liar, but there is truth in this. I know it.'
‘Tomas,' Hana said quietly.
He didn't seem to hear her. ‘I'm not sure what effect it will have on everything else, of course. There may be some disruption to the day–night cycle, but it will be—'
‘Tomas,' Hana said again, louder. Andala and Oriane turned towards her, but still, her brother seemed lost to his own musings. He headed suddenly towards the door.
‘We can do it at sundown. I'll arrange—'
‘Tomas, stop! '
The word burst from Hana. Andala had found it difficult to picture the quiet, fragile princess fighting off her captors and blasting away half the palace hall. But she had underestimated Hana – she saw that now as the woman rose from her chair, her slight form humming with palpable frustration. Perhaps they had all underestimated her.
Hana stared at her brother, blue eyes burning, and he stared back, mouth slightly open in surprise.
‘You need to stop this, Tomas. No, let me speak!' she added, as Tomas made to reply. ‘Let me speak, for once, and listen to me when I do.'
The king closed his mouth and nodded. He was staring at his sister as if she were a stranger. 333
‘I love you, Tomas,' Hana said. Andala could see, feel, that she meant it. ‘I love you for everything you have done for me, for everything you have tried to do. But …' She closed her eyes, took a breath and opened them again. ‘But I need you to stop now.'
‘What do you—' Tomas began, but Hana raised a hand, and he fell silent.
‘I have done everything you've asked of me. Taken every potion and tincture you've had healers create. Tried every avenue you have pursued – and I am grateful for all of it. I am. But I have also sat and listened to you discuss me as if I were not even in the room. I have followed every course of action that's been planned for , not with me, and watched as decisions about me and my mind and my life have been made without any input from me at all. And it needs to stop now, Tomas.'
Hana moved towards her brother, who stood frozen, as if a single movement would shatter him. She raised a hand to his face, and Andala was surprised to see pity in her eyes as she looked up at him.
‘It hasn't been easy for you either, has it?' Hana said. ‘I know you never wanted this role. I know you worry about failing. But you haven't failed me. Not even if you haven't found my miracle cure. And I need you to stop looking for it now.' She lowered her hand to clasp both of Tomas's in hers. ‘I need you to stop believing that there is a miracle cure, because I stopped believing that a long time ago. The skysingers aren't the answer. You need to let them go. It's your duty to protect them, just like Mother said.'
‘But what—' Tomas' voice hitched, threatened to crack. He cleared his throat. ‘What if they are the answer? Shouldn't we at least ask them to try?'
‘Shouldn't I be the one to make that call?' Hana countered. ‘Shouldn't it be up to me to pursue the solutions I see fit? Or do you 334 believe Terault when he says you – he – knows what's best for me? That I can't be trusted to make my own decisions, and that you must do it for my own good?'
‘Hana, that's not—'
‘That is what he says. I have heard him say it. He, too, seems to easily forget when I am in a room, and when I might hear people speaking about me.' Her tone softened. ‘I am ill, Tomas. I know that. There is something wrong with my mind – with the way it works against me. But I am not an invalid. I'm not a walking corpse. I'm still your living, breathing sister, and even though you can command me as my king, I ask that instead you listen to me as my brother.'
Tomas visibly deflated. He shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, their tear-bright shine reminded Andala of the king she'd seen in the dungeons – the one who was more a brother than a ruler, and who seemed only to want to help his sister.
‘Of course,' he whispered. ‘Of course. I just … It hurt, Hana. That I was never able to help you.'
‘There's a difference between trying to help me and trying to fix me, little brother. And the best way for you to do one is to stop the other.'
She reached up to put her arms around him. Tomas hugged her back, and Andala turned away, as much to give the siblings privacy as to quell the sudden ache in her own heart. Oriane did the same.
Bravely, impulsively, Andala reached for her hand and squeezed it.
‘I think it's time for us to go,' she said.
They left Tomas and Hana in the library and found Kitt out in the tavern, conversing with Nell. He had been trying to find horses 335 they could buy or borrow for the journey – and he had come up short.
‘No one's of a mind to leave themselves ill-provisioned in such uncertain times,' the innkeep was saying as Andala and Oriane approached. ‘Whether they think they can outrun the long night if it happens again, I don't know. But I do know you'll have no luck here.'
Kitt took off his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking defeated. ‘And we need more than one. Two at the minimum, or three if we're to have one each.'
‘Four,' came a voice behind them. ‘There will be four of us on this journey.'
King Tomas had emerged from the library, Hana behind him. Tomas approached the bar, and Andala had to suppress a smile as Nell's eyes widened, her brows shooting skyward.
‘You'll be – going with them, my lord?' the innkeep asked. ‘But you … Well, you're …'
‘The king? Yes,' Tomas agreed. ‘But I am not a very good one. No, don't feel you have to deny it – it's true. It is a poor king who abandons his castle, after all. Whoever heard of such a thing?' His tone was light, but a sharp undercurrent ran through it, like a bitter aftertaste from a sweet fruit. ‘It is a poorer king still who abandons his duty. And my duty is to my people.' He looked to Andala and Oriane. ‘Both Kitt and I will see these ladies safely to their destination.'
To Nell's credit, she asked no further questions. She merely bowed her head to Tomas – then whipped it up sharply at the sight of a couple who'd just descended from upstairs.
‘… should make it by midday,' the woman was saying. She and her companion were both dressed for travel. 336
‘'Bout bloody time,' the man replied as they headed for the door. ‘We'll get rid of this wagonload and then find somewhere to get a proper mea—' He cut himself off suddenly as Nell made her way around from behind the bar. ‘Nell! Didn't see you there.'
‘I can see that you didn't, Albert, else you'd not have come so close to disparaging my establishment within my earshot,' Nell said pleasantly. She had a look in her eye that Andala recognised – one that meant she had an idea in mind. ‘You and Perrine off to Azura today, then?'
Albert smiled sheepishly. ‘Well, we figured it was finally safe to get those goods to the city, with the daylight back to scaring all the bandits away, like.' He ran a hand through his auburn hair. ‘We settled the account last night, though, with Arrin—'
‘I know,' Nell interrupted. ‘And I thank you for not making me chase you down for it by escaping before dawn. But …' She stepped forward, blocking their way to the exit. ‘I'd be willing to give you a portion of that payment back, should you be willing to take some passengers with you.'
The pair exchanged a glance. ‘Passengers?' Perrine asked warily.
Nell waved in the general direction of Andala, Oriane, Kitt and Tomas. ‘Four travellers who find themselves in want of a way to the city now that the light prevails, much the same as yourselves.'
Andala did her best to smile at the two merchants as they appraised the group. If they could get to Azura – a large port city about five hours' ride away – they could find horses there and make the rest of the journey on their own. She held her breath as Perrine's eyes lingered on Tomas. What if she recognised him? What if she didn't? Would Tomas have to reveal himself, order the merchants to take them?
But after what seemed an age, Perrine simply nodded. ‘We leave within the hour,' she said curtly. ‘Anyone not aboard the wagon gets left behind.' 337
Andala sagged with relief as the merchants left.
‘I'll get our bags,' Kitt said at once. ‘Thanks again for making sure we actually had bags to take, Nell.' He bounded off upstairs, Tomas in his wake.
Andala turned to Nell, her gratitude threatening to overflow. ‘Nell,' she started, ‘thank you for—'
But the innkeep cut her off with a short, firm hug. ‘None of that, girl,' she murmured as she drew back. ‘I don't know where you're off to or what you're doing, and you know I won't ask. But just remember you're always welcome here, under any circumstances. Take care of yourself, won't you?' She glanced sidelong at Oriane, smiled. ‘Take care of each other.'
Andala swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. She could only nod in reply. She watched as Oriane clasped Nell's hands in thanks, then the innkeep disappeared out the back of the building.
‘I wish you luck,' came a soft voice.
Andala and Oriane whipped around. Hana was lingering behind them, as if she had something to say that she hadn't wanted the others to hear.
‘I'll be staying here,' Hana went on. ‘While my brother and Kitt go with you.'
‘Will you be all right?' Oriane asked, looking concerned.
‘Oh, yes,' Hana said lightly. ‘I rather like it here so far. I can see why you lived here for a while, Andala. Kitt told me.'
Andala's initial instinct was to shy away, as she usually did when it came to her past. But she found she didn't mind Hana knowing more about her.
She saw Oriane glance between her and the princess, a shrewd look on her face. Then Oriane turned towards Hana. 338
‘I must go upstairs to prepare for the journey. Stay safe here, Hana. Stay well.' She seemed to hesitate, then reached out to clasp Hana's hands briefly in hers. ‘It has been an honour to meet you, and to be your companion. And again … I am sorry I could not help you further.'
Hana smiled – a true, genuine smile that brightened her whole face. ‘The honour has been mine, Oriane. And you have helped me. Not in the way my brother intended, but your song and your friendship have both been a wonderful light.'
Andala saw Oriane's throat bob, her eyes blink once, twice. Then she bowed her head and was gone.
Andala shifted awkwardly. She had never been alone with the princess before, and had little idea what to say to her.
‘My brother told me what you said,' Hana said. ‘About … learning how to live with darkness, rather than trying to rid yourself of it. It seems a wise way to look at things.'
Heat rose in Andala's cheeks. She was also guilty of discussing Hana and her condition without her input, of failing to notice her presence in a room … She cleared her throat. ‘I don't profess to know anything about your situation, Your High—'
‘Hana,' the princess corrected. ‘I'm just Hana here. Which I don't mind, actually.' She glanced out the window at the villagers passing the inn, a faint smile on her lips. ‘These people don't know anything about who I am, or who I'm not.'
Andala couldn't help smiling in return. ‘That was why I first came here, too.' Hana's look grew curious, and Andala added hurriedly, ‘It's a long story.'
The princess appraised her. ‘I'd like to hear it someday.'
Andala nodded, once more at a loss for what to say. But the princess pre-empted her with an elegant dip of her head.
‘Lady Nightingale. I wish you well. It's been an honour to know 339 you, too.' Then Hana turned and left the inn, flaxen hair waving behind her as she stepped out into the breeze.
Kitt returned just as she left. His expression was tender as he watched her go. ‘Do you think she'll be all right here? On her own?'
Andala clasped a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘Nell will look out for her. She's a motherly type. Her husband's cooking is excellent, too, so Hana will be well fed.'
Kitt still looked worried, his face an open book of concern.
‘Does she know?' Andala asked. ‘How you feel about her?'
Kitt spun towards her. ‘I don't … I …' But he gave up his protests as Andala raised an eyebrow. ‘I don't think so.' He sighed. ‘She doesn't need that right now, anyway. She has enough on her plate.'
‘True. But still … it's nice, sometimes, to know someone cares about you.' She elbowed him gently. ‘Go tell her you'll come back for her.'
Kitt looked alarmed. ‘What?'
‘When everything's finished. Just let her know that you'll come back for her, if she wants you to. You don't have to say anything else. Just that you're here now, and you'll be here when this is all over.'
When this is all over . The thought brought a wave of fear crashing down over her. Terault, the island – for a moment there she'd almost forgotten about it all.
‘Are you all right?' Kitt asked.
‘Fine,' she said quickly. ‘Go on, lovestruck. Go see Hana before we leave.'
He rolled his eyes at the word, but the corner of his mouth quirked just the same. Kitt squeezed her shoulder briefly, then disappeared to say his goodbyes.
It was time for Andala's goodbyes too. Leilyn, Girard and Amie were still upstairs. She hovered at the edge of the bar, torn. The 340 merchants would be leaving soon, and she and the others needed to be on that wagon when they did …
Perhaps it would be better just to go.
She'd done it before. Twice now, to all of them. What difference would it make this time? Amie didn't know her. She was only making Girard's life more difficult by being in it. And Leilyn … Well, this was what Leilyn wanted, wasn't it? For Andala to be the nightingale, embrace the destiny Leilyn herself had bestowed upon her? Surely the thought of Andala far across the sea, living in a stone castle built by their ancestors' hands, would help her bear whatever loss she might feel.
Yes. It was better this way. She'd go before Leilyn and Girard came down, before Amie had even awoken. She would be halfway to the city soon, and they'd all be the better for it.
‘Ready to go?'
Oriane had come downstairs without Andala noticing, a bag of clothing and provisions in her hands.
‘Ready. Kitt is already out there, saying goodbye to Hana. We can wait for the king outside—'
‘Wait,' Oriane called, as Andala made for the door.
She froze, turned.
‘Have you said goodbye?' Oriane said.
‘To Hana? Yes, just bef—'
‘That's not who I meant.'
Andala felt suddenly as if she were in the air again, with only the ocean beneath her. If she didn't keep running, flying, pressing on as she always did, she would drop, she would sink—
A hand on her elbow; gentle pressure, quiet warmth.
‘Come on,' came Oriane's voice, from beside her or a thousand miles away. ‘We'll go together.' 341
Andala let herself be guided up the staircase, Oriane keeping a hand on her arm. They reached a door at the end. Girard and Amie were sharing an adjoining room with Leilyn; this must be it. She could hear them in there, all three. Her mother's quiet laugh, Amie giggling at something Girard was saying.
‘If you don't go in,' Oriane said quietly, carefully, ‘I think you will regret it.'
Andala shut her eyes. Took a breath. She was not in the ocean; she was not drowning. ‘Thank you,' she said, eyes still closed. The hand at her elbow squeezed gently, then disappeared.
Andala knocked on the door.
The day was bright and sparkling around them as the wagon wended its way to Azura. The gentle rocking motion was soothing, as were the sounds of the merchants' murmured conversation and the horses' heavy hooves on the road.
Andala lay back with her head on a bag of grain. The four of them were ensconced quite comfortably among the wagon's cargo. They'd been travelling for several hours now; the city was not far away. Andala hoped she might drift off and sleep the rest of the journey.
At least then she would stop reliving the goodbyes in her head.
She was grateful to Oriane for taking her up those stairs. For stopping her from running again, as she always had. She hadn't cried as she'd embraced her mother, or collapsed under the weight of guilt as Girard wrapped his arms around her and wished her well. She hadn't experienced the strange trance that had threatened to take her the first time she'd seen her daughter again. 342
But she had said something to Amie. Something she couldn't take back.
‘Where are you going?' the girl had asked. Andala had forced herself to look at Amie, to bear her child's scrutiny.
‘I'm going away for a while,' she had replied. ‘Somewhere quite far away.'
She'd expected Amie to ask where, or why. But instead, Amie had asked another question, looking up at Andala with eyes a mirror to her own.
‘Will you come back?'
And before Andala had really thought about it – before she had given proper weight to the fact that, to a child, Will you come back meant Will you come back to me , meant Will I see you again – she had answered:
‘Yes. Maybe.'
Never mind that she knew not whether such a thing was possible. Never mind that she might never make it to the island in the first place. Never mind that those words, to a child, were as good as a promise, and that the only promise she'd ever made her daughter was the promise that Amie would never know her.
Yes. Maybe.
Some part of her – a part that sometimes spoke with a voice that sounded like Oriane's – wondered whether she'd said it because she wanted it to be true.
The cart jolted. Andala's eyes shot open. The others were reclined across from her. Oriane and Kitt seemed to be dozing, and Tomas was staring out over the fields. Andala was grateful for it. She found she could not bear the idea of someone looking at her right now. The weight of a gaze would be enough to split the two halves of her asunder.
Andala closed her eyes again, focused on the feeling of the sun on her face, and tried to sleep.