This close to the border there was no difference in the landscapes of Rhylla and Rhannon; the plants were the same, the temperature was the same. So instead of looking around, Sorrow kept her eyes fixed on the boy claiming to be her brother.
As he walked at Vespus’s side, Sorrow noticed he walked like a Rhyllian, his arms held still, his back perfectly straight. She looked at the others with them. All of the Rhyllians moved with a grace she found unbearably lovely, despite everything else that was happening. She wondered briefly if any of them had abilities – Lincel didn’t, Rasmus had said. But the other two, the twins… They might. She knew little of Vespus, but she imagined he’d prefer to surround himself with people he considered special. She was so busy watching them all she didn’t see the inn until they were right outside it.
Vespus stopped, and turned to Sorrow. “I assume you’d prefer this conversation happened without an audience?”
Taken aback by the consideration, she nodded.
“Then we’ll move out any patrons who might be in there, and tell you when it’s clear.”
Still herding the boy, he vanished around a corner, the other two Rhyllians following him. Lincel hesitated, as though unsure of whether to stay or follow her people. As she chose, moving decisively after Vespus, a thought struck Sorrow.
“Wait,” she called. Lincel halted and half turned towards her. “Did you know?” Sorrow asked her.
“No,” Rasmus said at once. “Of course she didn’t.”
Lincel said nothing and Rasmus’s jaw dropped.
Sorrow asked again. “Did you know?”
“I’m not permitted to reveal the confidences of my court,” Lincel said finally.
“You knew about this?” Rasmus whirled on Lincel. “How long?”
“I’m not permitted to reveal the confidences of my court,” Lincel repeated.
“I am of your court. Our queen is my father’s half-sister. My aunt,” Rasmus exploded.
Lincel didn’t reply. She didn’t look away from Sorrow, but there was no malice or challenge in her expression. Lincel might have been commenting on the weather. Sorrow made her decision.
“I don’t want you in my country any more,” she said to the Rhyllian woman. “You won’t return with us today. You’ll remain in Rhylla. Your belongings will be sent on to you.”
Sorrow turned to Rasmus.
“I’m staying in Rhannon,” he said before she could speak. “I’ll act as interim ambassador until you or my aunt decide otherwise. I’ll write to her tonight.”
For a moment Sorrow was dumb. It was no small thing he was offering, she knew that, and it wasn’t done for the sake of duty. He was doing it for her, declaring where his loyalties lay, and Sorrow’s throat tightened as gratitude choked her. A beat too long passed as they locked eyes with each other, until Charon coughed pointedly.
“I’m grateful, Ambassador Corrigan,” Sorrow said, her voice deeper than usual. Lincel shrugged, and Sorrow didn’t know if it was meant as an apology or not. Not, she decided, as Lincel followed Vespus, leaving the rest of them waiting.
Charon looked at Sorrow. “We need to find out if Mira knew,” he said quietly, and Sorrow nodded. If the Rhannish ambassador to Rhylla had known, and not told them, it was treason.
While they waited for Vespus to summon them, Sorrow examined the outside of the inn, trying to focus on that, instead of what might happen within. Like a Rhannish building, it was low to the ground – if she stood beside it on tiptoes she could reach up to touch the edge of the flat roof – though she’d expected that. Ras had said buildings in south Rhylla were very like those in Rhannon; because the weather was largely the same, the south Rhyllians had adopted a lot of their neighbour’s architecture and customs. But unlike a Rhannish building, it was alive.
The walls were curtained by a thick, flowering plant with star-shaped leaves; only the gold glass windows studding the walls gave Sorrow an occasional glimpse of white plaster around them. Fat, fuzzy bumblebees drifted lazily between ruby-coloured blossoms, their hum low and steady, so different to the vicious, lean insects she freed from her rooms to stop them stinging her. She caught a flash of bright blue – were the bees here blue? she wondered – and stepped cautiously closer to see what it was.
“It’s a bird!” she said in shock, rearing back as the tiny thing hovered in the air, before it vanished around the same corner Vespus and his cohorts had moved beyond. She turned to Rasmus for confirmation; he nodded.
His eyes were soft as he watched her taking it all in, his mouth fighting a losing battle with a smile.
“All clear,” a female voice called, and Sorrow dropped her gaze from Rasmus’s, catching the pinched look of anger on Charon’s face as she turned to follow Vespus.
She rounded the corner of the building to find the Rhyllian twins waiting outside a round, honey-coloured door, three of the blue birds flitting around the woman as though she were a flower. She offered a friendly smile, which Sorrow was too anxious to return, nodding instead. After a pause, Charon wheeled forward to enter first, Sorrow behind him, helping him tilt the chair to mount the doorstep, and Rasmus at the rear.
All three stopped as the door closed firmly behind them and the Rhyllian woman passed them, heading towards the back of the inn, then disappearing around a corner. When Sorrow turned, she realized the male twin must have remained outside.
It was dark in the inn, compared to the summer brightness, and much cooler. The skin across Sorrow’s shoulders prickled, and her senses sharpened. She fisted her hands, relishing the press of her nails against her palms, the pain somehow reassuring.
“This way,” Vespus called in Rhannish, from somewhere deeper in the building. Sorrow took a moment more for her eyes to adjust to the softer light, and then began to move towards where Vespus, and the boy, waited.
They weaved around benches and tables made of the same golden wood as the door, polished to a buttery shine; in the centre of each one was a small vase with a red flower, like those on the walls, inside. There were curtains at the windows, red-and-white check, and the floor beneath Sorrow’s feet was a red too, tiled, clicking in a friendly manner under her heel, whispering beneath Charon’s wheels. Again her focus wandered, and despite where they were, and why, she wanted to stop and stare, to savour this moment, this place that was like nothing she’d seen before. It looked so cosy. So welcoming, as though it existed only to be inviting. And the colours everywhere. Sorrow was dizzy imagining what it might be like further inside the country.
Gentle fingers brushed the base of her spine, and she reached a hand behind her, squeezing Rasmus’s hand guiltily, before pulling away as they turned the corner to where Vespus waited.