Chapter 333: Tell Her Not To Come Home

"A ladle," said Draeven.

"Yes, Majesty."

"What did she do with it?"

"She threatened to put it through Sergeant Hobb’s head."

Somebody made a strangled noise. It might have been Kaelen.

"She’s very...." Doran searched for the word. "Particular. She said she’d had enough strangers in her kitchen to last her a lifetime. It took three of us an hour to explain who we were." He swallowed. "She only let us in when I said the lady Morgana sent her love."

Morgana pressed her fist to her mouth.

"She cried," said Doran, more gently. "Just a little. She turned away so we wouldn’t see. And then she told us to wipe our feet."

A sound came out of Morgana, half a laugh, half a sob.

"That’s her," she said. "That’s her."

"She’s eating," said Doran. "The baker’s boy brings bread. We watched. Two of us sleep in the barn. Two of us walk the lane, at night, in pairs. She grumbles about it. But I think she’s...." He hesitated. "I think she’s glad of it, my lady."

"Thank you," said Morgana.

"It was an honor."

"Doran," said Draeven.

"Majesty."

"You rode here to tell us that."

"No, Majesty."

The young man’s face changed.

It went grey, all at once, and the faint smile died. He looked down at the cobbles. His hands, resting on his knees, had begun, very slightly, to shake.

"I rode," he said, "because she gave me a message."

The courtyard was silent.

"For the lady."

"Say it," said Draeven.

Doran lifted his head.

"She said...." His voice dropped. He did not look at Morgana. He seemed unable to. "She said, and I’m to give it exactly. She said, Tell my daughter not to come."

Morgana’s heart stopped.

"Do not come," said Doran. "She said it three times. Tell her I’m well. Tell her I’m safe. Tell her not to come home."

"Why?" whispered Morgana.

"She said," said Doran, "They want her to come."

Silence.

It was a terrible silence. It seemed to spread, slowly, from the center of the courtyard to the walls. Somewhere a horse stamped. A servant, up on the steps, drew a sharp breath.

"There’s more," said Doran.

"Tell us," said Draeven.

"A man." The rider’s voice was low. "In a good coat. He’s been at the inn at the end of the lane. Three days, off and on. He doesn’t drink. He sits by the window and watches the cottage. Hobb saw him on our second night. We went to seize him."

"And?"

"He was gone."

"Gone."

"Out the back." Doran’s jaw tightened. "We found his cup still warm. And a coin on the table, a silver one, with a mark we didn’t know." He fumbled at his belt. "Hobb sent it with me."

He held out his hand.

Draeven took it.

It was a small round coin, bright silver, worn thin at the edges. Morgana saw it in his palm as he turned it to the last of the light. On one side was a faint stamp of a tower. On the other, a tiny, precise, familiar shape, a lantern.

Nobody spoke.

She felt Thorne go still beside her.

"Valorhold," he said softly.

"You know it?" said Kaelen.

"It’s a temple mark. From the south." Thorne’s voice was very quiet. "From a very old order."

Morgana stared at the coin.

Valorhold.

She did not know why the word made her stomach turn. She had never heard it. And yet it landed in her like a stone in water, and the ripple went out and out, and she thought, with a strange cold clarity, I know that name.

I know it from somewhere.

I was told once. In a dark kitchen. In a whisper.

Don’t ever go south, Morgana. Not ever. Not to the white city.

"Draeven," she said.

He looked at her.

"My mother said," she whispered. "She said never to go south. To a white city." Her voice cracked. "She never said the name."

"Morgana...."

"I think it’s this." She stared at the coin. "I think it’s the same place."

Nobody answered.

Draeven’s fingers closed slowly over the coin. His face was calm. It was the calm of a man who has just watched a wall he was leaning on turn out to be a door.

"Then it is a trap," said Morgana.

"Yes," said Draeven.

"They want me to come to Ashford."

"Yes."

"They’ll be waiting."

"Almost certainly."

"And my mother knows it." Her throat was tight. "She knows, and she told us not to come, and we’re going anyway."

"Yes."

"Draeven...."

"We are going," said the first king, "with our eyes open."

She looked up at him.

He met her gaze, steady and level, and the gold in his eyes was very bright. The last of the light lay across his face, and across the silver coin in his fist, and across the cold stone of the courtyard where three kings and a girl stood in the dusk with a mud-spattered boy at their feet.

"They have laid a road for us," said Draeven. "Very well. We will walk it. But we will walk it armed, and watchful, and together." His voice was quiet. "And when we get there, whoever is waiting will find out that they have invited something they cannot afford."

Beside him, Kaelen smiled.

It was not a pleasant smile. It was white and thin and showed too many teeth. The air around him dropped ten degrees.

"I’m looking forward to it," he said.

On the other side, Thorne said nothing. But the shadows at his feet rose, slowly, black and silent, until they stood around the four of them in a ring like waiting hounds.

Far to the north, beyond the dark hills, the first star came out.

***

*DAWN*

They left in the dark.

The courtyard was black and silent, lit only by a handful of lanterns that swung in the cold. Frost silvered the cobbles. Somewhere on the far side of the stables a cock was crowing too early, and two grooms were pretending not to yawn. The sky above the palace walls was the deep blue of ink, with a single thin line of grey at the edge of the world.