“Watch your head here,” Vairlyn said, pushing back a branch. “These need to be cut back, but I rather like the wildness of it.”
The path had narrowed and we walked through a long, tunneled arbor that was thick with yellow climbing roses. The ground below it was littered with a rainfall of petals. It was a striking contrast to the foreboding spiked structures that towered on either side—one was meant to invite, the other to turn away. We emerged from the arbor onto the back side of the main house, where there was a sprawling garden with raked walkways, low hedges, and tall rows of shrubs. A large fountain bubbled at its center. Beyond the gardens were three more stone buildings with more sharp turrets. Homes, Vairlyn called them.
“That’s Riverbend at the far end,” Jalaine said. “It houses our employees. Next to it, set back in the middle, is Greycastle, where more family lives.”
“My sister Dolise and her family—and a few cousins who are not overly social—live there. More family live down in Hell’s Mouth.”
“There are seventy-eight of us Ballengers altogether,” Priya said, “and that’s not counting third cousins.”
“Third cousins like Paxton?” I asked.
An icy wall fell over Priya.
“Yes,” Vairlyn answered, “like him.”
“Of course, we are hoping for more little Ballengers soon,” Jalaine quipped. Priya jabbed her elbow into her sister’s side.
Vairlyn jumped in quickly as if trying to sweep past Jalaine’s suggestion. “And the one next to Greycastle is Darkcottage.”
Darkcottage was not a cottage at all. It rose two stories above us with four spiraling turrets that went even higher. The cottage was made from glistening black granite.
“Who lives there?” I asked.
“It’s empty right now,” Vairlyn answered. “Only filled with memories and stories.” Her gaze was wistful. “Sometimes guests stay there. And that’s the tour, except for a few outbuildings, and the stables down that path over there.”
“What about the vault? May I see it?”
Priya’s brows arched. “Down in the tunnel? You know about that?”
“Jase told me.”
“It’s a bit dank and dusty,” Vairlyn said doubtfully.
“Still, I’m curious after all the stories he told me.”
Jalaine and Priya exchanged a knowing smile as if I had confessed something important.
“I’ll have Jase show you the vault when we come back from town,” Vairlyn said. “The horses are probably ready for us by now, and the others will be waiting.”
With those words said, Jalaine and Priya left, walking back down the path eager to be on their way, but Vairlyn didn’t move, her attention still fixed on Darkcottage. I waited, unsure if I should go or stay. When they were out of earshot, she said, “Thank you for your letter to the queen.”
“I’m not sure thanks are in order. It was Gunner’s letter. I only copied it. And you do know it came with a price? I didn’t give the letter freely.”
“The settlement. Yes. I’m aware. I do know something about compromise. Sometimes we must give something up in order to gain something else that is more important to us. I see it as a win for both of us.”
“The queen coming here is that important to you?”
“It was important to my husband, and that makes it important to me. Keeping promises is important. Soothing fears is important. Protecting Hell’s Mouth is important.”
Yes, I thought, I understand about promises. Mine are important too.
As we walked back through the arbor, she paused, lightly touching my arm. “I was wondering, by any chance is Kazi short for Kazimyrah?”
I stared at her, her simple question squeezing the air from my lungs. I tried to figure out how she knew. Did she suspect something about how I signed the letter? “You’ve heard the name before?”
“Yes. In Candora. It’s not an uncommon name up there among fletchers, especially for first daughters. In their old tongue it means ‘sweet arrow,’ which is the…”
She continued to explain, but I already knew what the sweet arrow was, that rare arrow among a dozen quivers that flies truer and farther than the rest, the one in which a fletcher’s craft is elevated by something as intangible as the spirit within the wood.
“No,” I answered. “My name is just Kazi.”
But as we walked back to the front gate, my mind whirled with this new knowledge that even my own mother hadn’t known. Had my father been a fletcher from Candora? Had he named me? Old wounds split open again, every answer that should have been mine stolen like it was only a cheap trinket to be traded away at market. Thousands of years of history were revered by the Ballengers. My own brief history had been ripped from my grasp. There were a hundred questions I would never be able to ask my mother.
When we got back to the front gate, everyone was waiting for us, the army of Ballengers, straza, and other hands, ready to head into Hell’s Mouth.
Everyone but Jase.
All eyes fell on me. I might have been on the inside of the gate, but I was still a foreign object, a stone caught in a horse’s shoe and dragged into their inner sanctum. Priya smirked. She had seen me scanning the group.
“Don’t worry. He’s coming,” she said, as if to let me know nothing slipped by her.
“Come ride by me!” Nash called.
“Not just yet, Nash. I’m going to ride with Kazi first.” Heat raced between my ribs. I turned to see Jase approaching from another path, guiding two horses. One was coal black—mine. I ran to him, checking his tack, all in place but now dust free and freshly oiled. His coat gleamed, and his mane was carefully groomed and braided.
The others headed out through the gate, leaving Jase and me alone.
I nuzzled my horse’s neck and scratched his forelock. “Mije, gutra hezo, Mije,” I whispered, and he blew out a robust snort of appreciative air, his expression of excitement, and a signal that he was ready for a gallop through open fields. He was high energy and meant for speed, a venerable breed of Vendan stock specifically bred for Rahtan and not used to the long confines of a stable.
“His name is Mije?” Jase asked.
My focus remained fixed on Mije’s neck and I nodded, unable to look at Jase, caught off guard by the sudden tightness in my throat. Stupid horse, I thought, don’t do this to me, but I couldn’t hide that I was glad to see him.
“The mane was Jalaine’s idea. I hope you don’t mind. She kind of fell in love with him.”
“It’s a bit fancy for him, but I don’t think he minds. He’ll probably expect extra treats from me now too.” I looked up. Jase’s eyes were trained on me.
“Tiago found him at the livery when they were searching for you and the other Rahtan.” He straightened, his shoulders stiff and uncomfortable, and he frowned. “We don’t have the others, Kazi. We never did. I want you to know.”
This wasn’t about horses. He was talking about Wren and Synové.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because of last night. I saw the look in your face. The fear. I don’t want you to think of me that way. I would never harm them. You know that, don’t you?”
I thought about my reaction. I had been afraid. I had felt death in the room. It had rushed over my skin, like a stampeding army of ghosts, and then I saw Jase. He had killed someone—I had known it—and dread had gripped me. My first thoughts had jumped to Wren and Synové, and I realized that what I knew about Jase and what I knew about the Patrei were two different things. The Patrei ruled a different world than the one where Jase and I had roamed. I was still getting to know this other person.
“Why did you lie and say you had them?”
“They had disappeared, and we’ve had trouble in town. I have to consider all possibilities.”
“And if I believed that you had them in custody you thought I might confess something. They became leverage.”
A crease formed between his brows. “Yes.”
“Jase, I had vanished into thin air—just like you. Maybe they feared they were next. Did it ever occur to you they might have disappeared because they were trying to keep their own necks safe?”
“It occurred to me. But where are they now? Everyone knows you’re here and safe.”
“I don’t know where they are.”