‘Aderyn, I’ve been looking for you all over.’
‘I’m sorry. After what Lucien said, and what I did … I had to get away. Where is he now?’
‘He stormed off. Possibly because I threatened to write to Lord Lancelin and tell him that his son’s been bullying you.’ Her lips twitch. ‘He knows I’ll do it too.’
‘Oh, Letya.’ Her care for me brings fresh tears to my eyes. ‘What would I do without you?’
‘Let’s hope we never have to find out.’ Her smile fades. ‘I don’t know. Maybe this place is bringing out the worst in Lord Lucien.’ She tugs on one earlobe. ‘It’s too big, and there are too many people. And those Dark Guards give me the shivers.’
‘Do you want to go home?’
Letya shakes her head. ‘Of course not. I’ll stay as long as you do.’ She grins suddenly. ‘That’s what Lord Lancelin is paying me for.’
‘Very well.’ I sniff. ‘But I think tonight I’m going to have a headache. We’ll tell Lucien that I’m too ill to come to dinner, and I’ll eat here with you instead. And after supper we can read and talk and play Battle, and pretend we’re back home at Merl.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’ My spirits lift a little as I contemplate an evening without courtly rigmarole. Without the royal family or any of the other Protectors. Without Lucien. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’
Letya and I have a pleasant evening, although I can’t stop my mind drifting back to Lucien’s words, to the mixture of shock and hurt in his eyes when I slapped him. Once I’m in bed I start wondering whether our relationship can be repaired; whether I want it to be repaired. I could ask Lord Lancelin to send me a replacement clerk. Someone who doesn’t argue with me or glare at me or think he’s entitled to tell me off. I could send Lucien away and never see him again.
The idea should fill me with joy, given the way he talks to me.
I fall asleep wondering why it doesn’t.
Lucien comes to my apartment the next morning, just after breakfast. He is wearing a long, loose robe, of the sort that Siegfried put on yesterday. Which means he’s either just transformed from raven to human, or he’s planning to shift the other way very shortly.
‘Your Grace.’ He bows. ‘I’d like permission to leave court for a few days. I’ve had word from Atratys, and there are matters at home that require my attention.’
That’s it. No apology. No reference to our argument. I suppose I wasn’t the only one lying in bed last night thinking about the future of our association.
‘I see. You’re returning to Hatchlands?’
‘Yes.’
I wonder what game he’s playing. Is he trying to prove to me how much I need him? Is his pride such that he cannot get past the fact that I struck him? Or is he abandoning me in the hope that I’ll fail?
‘You seem very certain that I’ll give you my permission.’ I gesture at his robe.
‘If my absence is at all inconvenient –’ His colour deepens. ‘I would not ask, if circumstances were not such as to …’ The tendons of his wrists are standing out from his clenched fists. He clears his throat, seems to master whatever is provoking his distress. ‘I trust you will remember my warnings and behave appropriately, Your Grace.’
Does he wish me to dislike him? ‘You need not remind me of my duty, Lord Rookwood. Take as much time as you require. Pray send my compliments to your mother.’ I turn away, too angry to watch him leave. Angry at Lucien for daring to upset me. Angry at myself for becoming so easily upset. Taking a seat at the window, I stare out at the glittering water of the fjord. Behind me, the door closes.
I stay in my chair, brooding – over Lucien’s behaviour, over the king and my mother, over the whereabouts of Deeks Flayfeather – until Letya comes in a little later. She is tidying in the bedroom (she refuses to let the castle housemaids anywhere near my clothes and jewels) and I don’t pay much attention until I hear her exclaim in horror.
I look round. ‘What’s the matter? Is something broken? The clasp on my amber necklace seemed a little loose the other day, but I’m sure it can be fixed.’
‘It isn’t that.’ She comes out of the bedroom, holding something in her hand. ‘This was in one of the drawers …’
The object she’s offering me looks like a sort of doll, crudely fashioned out of coarse cloth with long black threads stuck to its head to represent hair. The face has been painted on: blue eyes, red lips. It’s obviously supposed to be me. A white wing feather – from a true gull, I would guess – has been bound to the doll with a length of narrow chain. And there’s something else …
‘What is that?’ I point to a disc of silver metal sitting about where the heart would be, if the doll were a person. Wordlessly Letya turns the doll over: the end of a long silver nail protrudes from its back.
My stomach heaves. ‘It’s horrible.’
‘It’s a curse, Aderyn, that’s what it is. An evil curse, meant to harm you –’ She’s shaking and crying and trying to mutter a prayer at the same time.
‘Letya, calm yourself.’ I get up and point to the chair. ‘Sit there, and put that thing on the table.’ She obeys, and I fetch her a glass of wine from the decanter that sits on the sideboard. ‘Drink this.’
‘But we have to destroy it, we have to burn it –’
‘And we will. But first we have to show the guest master.’ Though I’m not sure what he will be able to do. My skin crawls as I force myself to pick the doll up. It wouldn’t have been hard for someone to get into my room. Housemaids come in and out every day, and the boy who brings the firewood. And Lucien has a key …
I shudder and push the thought away.
Letya is still crying.
‘Don’t upset yourself so much. It’s just fabric and stuffing. It can’t actually do me any harm.’ Her face takes on a stubborn look, but I try again. ‘This is no more than superstition, that’s all. Honestly, what would Mistress Gleb say?’ Our tutor – my tutor, in theory, but I had insisted Letya join me for most of my lessons – had often chastised my friend for some ancient belief picked up in early childhood.
I replace the doll on the table. I know it’s not a curse, but it is a threat. Someone wants to frighten me. Someone who, perhaps, has guessed or discovered that I’m searching for information about my mother’s death. Who wants to stop me before I dig any deeper.
But I will not be stopped.
Later that afternoon, Letya and I go to the guest master. He is shocked – distraught – while acknowledging that there is very little he can do. He offers to have a Dark Guard stationed at my door, but I decline. I don’t want to make it even easier for them to spy on me. Afterwards, we go back to my rooms and put the doll on the fire. As the flames catch, I notice that whoever made the thing didn’t trouble to give it any arms.
Curious. Still, the doll burns quickly. Soon only the silver nail is left among the ashes.
The weather changes. Rainstorms sweep down from the north and the Citadel is marooned on its high cliff, surrounded by mist and water. It’s too wet for riding. Too wet for flying, even for my cousin Odette. Instead she invites me to spend the second showery afternoon with her and Siegfried. She seems a little put out to discover that I’ve already met him, but she’s in high spirits, and her determination to love her chosen mate is obvious in every look and gesture. I’m not wholly convinced that Siegfried is as taken with Odette as she is with him. But he is respectful towards her, attentive, and, since I have no experience myself of this kind of relationship, I doubt my judgement. Siegfried is easy to talk to, and the three of us pass a pleasant few hours together. We meet again for lunch the next day. For the first time since I arrived at the Citadel, I feel as if I have found some friends.