I move closer to the imprisoned man and crouch in front of him.
‘Why? Why did you do it?’
Flayfeather’s gaze switches to Siegfried. ‘Agarica.’ He takes a long, shuddering breath. ‘You promised me.’
‘Agarica?’ I ask. ‘What’s that?’
‘A drug the flightless consume in some parts. Mildly addictive for them. Extremely addictive for our sort, it turns out.’ He turns to the man. ‘Answer her. Then we’ll see.’
The man shrugs. ‘He offered me money. Lots of money. And he took my sister as surety to make sure I did as I was told.’ He blinks at me. ‘You should have died. Cost me five hundred gold pieces, because you didn’t die. Cost my sister an arm.’
‘And the second hawk?’
‘My brother. Went to work for someone in Brithys, two years back. Not heard from since. Poor brother’s missing. Poor brother’s dead and flown …’
‘And the man who paid you – did he give you a reason? Why he wanted me and my mother dead?’
‘Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.’
There’s only one question left. Now it comes to it, I’m strangely unwilling to put a face to the person who ordered my mother’s murder, to have my suspicions confirmed. But I force the word out.
‘Who?’
The man grins, showing a mouthful of broken teeth. ‘The king.’
My father’s brother. The man who at one time, supposedly, loved my mother. I should be horrified. But I feel nothing apart from a dull ache beneath my ribcage.
Siegfried is watching me. I push myself to my feet. ‘You knew?’
‘I suspected. As did your father.’
Another secret he kept from me. But apparently discussed with Siegfried. ‘What did he say to you?’
‘He guessed the king wanted two things: revenge, for your mother having chosen your father over him, and Atratys.’
‘But I didn’t die. And there was no subsequent attack …’
‘You were kept carefully guarded. You never left Merl. You were never sent to live at court, as all noble children are.’ He shrugs. ‘His Majesty convinced himself that you could simply be set aside, when the time came.’
The gnawing ache in my stomach grows. Why didn’t my father talk to me? Why didn’t he tell me his suspicions?
The prisoner tries to pull away from his guards, earning a jab from the pitchfork.
‘What do you want done with him?’ Siegfried asks.
I want him to die, I suppose. I’ve had it planned out for long enough: how I would kill him, if ever I found him. How I would take a knife and slice him open and let him bleed. A sacrifice to my mother’s memory. The shadows creep from the corners of the room, while my father’s ghost hovers nearby, waiting. This is why I came here after all. To destroy those that had tried to destroy me …
But I can’t move. Can’t lift my hand to grasp the sword one of the guards has left lying on the table.
Siegfried whispers in my ear. ‘Say the words, Aderyn. What do you want me to do?’
The darkness edges closer.
‘I want … I want you to kill him for me.’
Behind me, Siegfried sighs.
‘Agarica.’ Flayfeather spits the word. ‘You promised.’
‘I did, didn’t I? Very well then.’ Siegfried nods to the guard with the pitchfork, who puts down his weapon and drags a wooden chest from near the door to where the man is kneeling. Siegfried opens it – it seems to be filled with dried yellowish leaves – and pulls on a spare pair of gauntlets. He runs his gloved hand through the leaves, and the room fills with a woody, musty scent. ‘Unprepared agarica. Very potent, but dangerous to eat as it is.’ He picks up a leaf between his fingers. ‘The underside is covered in tiny, barbed hairs that contain an acidic poison. If it touches your skin – especially somewhere sensitive – it causes immediate and intensely painful blistering and swelling.’ All of us stare at the leaf he is holding up. ‘Wonderful, isn’t it, how something so small can be so deadly …’
‘No!’ The man tries to shuffle away, but both the guards are holding him now, gritting their teeth against the discomfort they must be feeling even through thick layers of leather. ‘No, you stinking swan –’ He clamps his mouth shut, but one of the guards covers his nose until he is forced to gasp for air. As he opens his mouth, Siegfried crams two handfuls of the leaves into it, then holds Flayfeather’s jaw shut. The man’s eyes begin to bulge, his greyish skin turns purple and he jerks and convulses in the hands of his captors –
And I do not look away.
Eventually Flayfeather’s eyes turn upward, showing the whites. He stops twitching. Siegfried lets go of his head, closes the lid of the chest and removes the gauntlets. The guards drop the man on the floor and stretch, rubbing their shoulders.
‘Get rid of that, then leave us.’
The guards drag the body to the trapdoor, open it, and throw the corpse into the darkness below. When they’ve left the room, Siegfried turns to me.
‘I thought you’d be pleased, Aderyn. You don’t look pleased. Aren’t you glad he’s dead?’
‘Yes.’ I nod. Siegfried’s right: I should be pleased. But I feel nothing. No triumph, no sense of peace. I think about my mother, trying to stir the embers of my fury, but I cannot bring her face to mind. Siegfried is watching me, curious. ‘How did you know? About the …’ I point at the box of yellow leaves.
‘Oh, the dungeon master that worked here under the previous regime used to keep meticulous records. I’ve studied them at length. With the correct methods of application, they could keep people in agony for days at a time.’ He laughs. ‘Flayfeather got off lightly really. If we’d had more time, I might have tried a few experiments.’
There’s a tone to his voice, a certain pleasurable anticipation, that reminds me of something …
Patrus, looking forward to seeing the flightless family die.
And suddenly I seem to be back in Deaufleur, because I can hear the agonised shrieks of the flightless man as the fire takes him, and I can smell the burning of his flesh, but I can’t see. I can’t see anything at all –
Someone’s arms are around me. Lucien, surely? I must have had a nightmare, after the stargazing. ‘I was so scared.’
‘There’s nothing to be scared of, Aderyn.’
Siegfried’s voice. I open my eyes, and I’m still in the room below the castle. It was all true.
He helps me to a seat and passes me a glass of water.
‘I’m sorry.’ I don’t know why I’m apologising. Some instinct of self-preservation?
‘Don’t worry. You’ve taken the first step, but you’ll get stronger. You need to be strong, Aderyn, for what lies before us. Strong for what we have to do to save the kingdom.’ His dark blue eyes are almost black in the lamplight, but there’s no concealing the intensity of his expression. ‘We were discussing treason, that day in the garden: cutting out the canker at the heart of the kingdom. But can it really be treason, to make that which is sick whole again? Together, you and I are going to restore Solanum.’ He begins striding up and down, punctuating his words by smacking his fist into his palm. ‘We’re going to make it how it used to be. No more intermingling with the flightless. No more talk of allowing them representation, or of relaxing our borders. No more immorality among the nobles. No more squabbling between the Houses. We will burn away all that is rotten, and then – and only then – will come the time for mercy.’