22
It has been two days since I was released from the sanitarium, but I was told to remain in my room, still requiring rest. The terror of madness has continued to rush through my veins, my fear growing the stronger my body gets and the more clearer things become. My mind feels sharp; the haze has burned away. And yet I know with certainty that what I experienced during the collapse and subsequent events were shades of madness creeping in. So I have obeyed the rules and kept to myself. I have tried, truly, to rest, and to contain and steady my thoughts.
I feel more alert—and more acutely lonely too. No one has come to check on me—not Cathal, not Ravod, not even Imogen.
More than lonely, I’m restless. Despite wanting to stay safe and not attract any more negative attention, I can’t help my raging curiosity when I turn my mind to everything that’s happened.
Cathal said he knew who was behind the collapse. That it wasn’t my fault. Except he lied to me about putting me in a sanitarium for mad Bards. But he wouldn’t free me if I were to blame.
Who, then?
A plan hatches slowly while I pace the small floor of my room. That’s your problem, Shae. You don’t think before you act. Well, that’s about to change. I’ve got nothing if not time to think in here, after all.
* * *
The collapsed tower has been cordoned off as a “restricted zone” while reconstruction commences. These past few nights, under the cover of darkness, when it is easier to move about High House undetected, I have made my way in its direction, trying to figure out what happened. The token guards that patrol the perimeter switch rotations quite often. It seems no one expects insubordination this deep in the heart of High House, bastion of order for Montane.
Right after the sun dips beneath the horizon, the bell for dinner rings, and I assume my position, hiding in the shadows. Several minutes later, three guards exit the gate into the castle proper. Counting slowly to thirty, I anticipate a group of Bards heading into their wing from the men’s barracks. The next group of two guards should round the corner right …
Now.
Tucking my head down, I slip behind them and head in the opposite direction, up the steps to the collapsed tower. This is the closest I’ve managed to get. I overheard the guards chatting a couple of nights ago about how inside the wing is unguarded. But I can’t help wondering why. Has nothing been done to stabilize the structure? Surely Cathal has engineers and workers galore at his disposal. It only reinforces my theory that there’s something else going on.
The damage looks even worse up close. The broken marble and limestone cast long, jagged shadows down the mountainside. They remind me of something I saw in a dream once, a long time ago. The wind picks up, the darkness beckoning me closer. As if issuing an invitation … or a challenge.
“Damn Bards ought to patrol their own mess,” a voice breaks through the silence.
I stifle a gasp and quickly slide around the side of a large block of debris. I was too slow calculating the first group’s rounds.
“Don’t talk like that. You don’t know who can hear you,” a second guard responds as the patrol draws level with my hiding spot. “I don’t know about you, but I need this job.”
“Yes, yes. We all know about your sick brat back home.” I can practically hear the first guard roll his eyes at his companion.
“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” the second guard asks. Their footsteps come to a halt right on the other side of my hiding spot.
“Just be glad he doesn’t have the Blot,” the first guard responds. “And yes. It’s as boring as it was the first fifty times I had to hear about it.”
“Could be worse. You could be stuck down in the caverns on back-door duty with Sergeant Kimble.”
The first guard grumbles. “I hate that guy.”
“I know. You hate everyone.”
I peek out at them while they are absorbed in their discussion. My only exit is cut off as they stand in my way.
The mention of a back door in the caverns was quite interesting though.
“Back door has fewer shifts. I could be off-duty by midnight and only have to deal with a couple of hours of Kimble’s abominable singing.” The first guard is a short, squat man whose gruff voice somehow fits his physique. He’s facing away from me, while his tall and lanky younger companion has a good chance of seeing me if I try to move.
I inwardly thank them for giving me such useful information, a small smile touching my lips as they finally walk away and I’m able to safely turn the corner back to the training grounds.
Later tonight, when the shift changes, I’ll find this secondary entrance and finally see what’s being hidden in the rubble.
* * *
Evening has fallen, and the Bards’ Wing is mostly empty. The bulk of the Bards are in the refectory enjoying dinner.
Everyone except Ravod, it seems. My heart somersaults when I see him standing near the door. His eyes are narrowed and his arms are crossed over his chest in his usual stance. He taps two fingers absently against his bicep.
“Shae,” he says, looking startled as I draw closer. Quietly, he adds, “We need to talk.”
I open and close my mouth a few times. Was he worried for me? Why didn’t he come check on me, then? Inwardly I shudder, remembering his face appearing in the window in the sanitarium. I must have imagined it. I was in a sanitarium, after all.
“Is something the matter?” I ask.
Ravod shifts his hands to his hips, clearly vexed by my deflection. His eyes dart swiftly up and down the hall. I’ve never seen him so agitated.
“Ravod!” A familiar harsh call cuts him off before he can speak, followed by the sound of purposeful striding feet.
Kennan sweeps toward us, her haunting glare locked on Ravod as she ignores me entirely.
Ravod’s eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before he turns to Kennan. In an instant, his tension and paranoia melt away into a disarming smile.
“Something I can do for you, Kennan?” he asks.
“Don’t play dumb with me.” Kennan scowls. Unlike me, Ravod seems unperturbed. He regards her with his usual cool indifference as she continues. “I’m not covering for you again. If Cathal had placed me in charge of the investigation in the first place, we would already have a suspect. Instead, you can’t even be bothered to attend Cathal’s debriefing, and I get blamed for your incompetence.”
“But I thought he already knew who the culprit was?” I interject before I can think better of it.
Kennan rounds on me, eyes spitting fire. “Nobody cares what you think.”
“There’s no need for that,” Ravod says, placing his arm between Kennan and me. He shoots me a warning glance before turning to the other Bard. “I understand your frustration, Kennan. I was preoccupied with a lead and will explain everything to Cathal. You have my word.”
Kennan clearly isn’t finished with him. Her mouth thins to a tight line as she steps closer to Ravod. She’s slightly shorter, but her stance is somehow far more threatening.
“You only got your fancy gig because of my misfortune,” she seethes. “I’m twice the Bard you are. Don’t forget it.”