Inker and Crown

Chapter 16

16

Adrial

“What’s your business?” called the guard at the center of the formation.

Adrial’s heart thumped at the man’s rough voice, though he kept his face from flinching. “I’m Adrial Ayres, raised a ward of Lord Karron.”

“Head Scribe?” The guard squinted at Adrial. “I didn’t recognize you out of your robes, sir.”

“With the trouble in town, I thought it best to be discreet while walking on my own.” Adrial led Ena the last few feet to the gates. “I have a vendor with me. She’s working on inks for the vellum the King ordered. I need her to match the petals on the lady’s heart trees, and there are no others in the city.”

“Of course, sir.” The guard gave a little bow and a nod to the other guards.

Silently, the gates swung open.

Adrial stepped back, stopping just out of range of the ornately carved metal.

How many times had he climbed to the cliff after a day of training in the library? How many worries had fluttered out of his mind as soon as he crossed through the gates and entered the sanctuary of the Map Master’s Palace?

My first true home.

Allora had insisted all the Karron wards live at the Map Master’s Palace as long as their apprenticeships would allow.

Adrial knew the gates and the grounds. Had memorized the pattern of the floor in the great ballroom and all the best corners for a timid and afraid child to hide.

“Shall I tell Lady Allora you’ve come?” the guard asked as Adrial led Ena through the gates.

“I’m afraid I haven’t time for a visit.” A tiny curdle of guilt bubbled in Adrial’s stomach. “I’m to report to the library this evening.”

“Of course, Head Scribe.”

Adrial gave another nod to the guards, not knowing how to end the conversation.

“It’s beautiful,” Ena said as Adrial veered her onto a side path away from the wide road that led to the main house.

Allora could be watching through those windows. If she saw him here with Ena, her welcome would be far less generous than the guard’s had been.

“It’s not as grand as the mountains, but still, it’s pretty.” Ena trailed her fingers along the bushes that lined the path.

It was one of a dozen walkways that cut through the grounds. To the mausoleum, to the house, to the walled garden, and so many other places a child could lose himself.

“I was very lucky to be brought here.” Adrial stooped and picked a bright orange flower from the side of the path.

“So early in spring for such brightness.” Ena studied the bloom.

A fit of daring seized Adrial. He reached over and tucked the flower behind Ena’s ear.

His heart tumbled and crashed into his lungs, stealing his breath away, as a gentle smile curved Ena’s lips.

“And why were you so lucky to be brought here, scribe?” Ena tugged on Adrial’s arm, steering him down the path toward the wide swath of pink-laden trees along the cliffs. “What else would the Lord Map Maker have done with the Ayres born?”

There was no malice in her words, but they still stung as childlike shame reddened Adrial’s cheeks.

“He could have left me where he found me,” Adrial said. “He came to Ian Ayres to fetch Mara Landil. Lord Karron had been friends with Mara’s father. When he died, they sent Mara to the bastards’ island.”

“No one would take her?” Ena tightened her grip on Adrial’s arm.

“I don’t think they looked very hard. Lord Karron was furious when he found out what had become of Mara and sailed straight away for Ian Ayres. When he got there, he found me, took pity on the tiny cripple boy, and brought me here.”

“You’re not his bastard then?”

“Why would you think that?” Adrial asked. “Is it the striking family resemblance?”

“A bastard Ayres child not only being Guilded, but chosen as the heir to the Lord Scribe?” Ena shook her head, sending her hair fluttering around her shoulders. The flower fell from behind her ear, and she caught it before it reached the ground. “I just assumed you must be his. I think most people do.”

Ena handed Adrial the flower and tucked her hair behind her ear before leaning toward him.

“You’re far from the first person to have assumed I was Lord Karron’s bastard. It was always a wonder to me that he kept me around, what with all the whispers.” Adrial tucked the flower back in its place, and Ena took his hand, drawing him farther down the path. “Though I don’t suppose Allora would have let him get rid of me anyway. She’s the one who taught me to read, you know.”

“I suppose I’ll have to try and forgive her for being a paun princess then.”

They had reached the edge of the cliff. To one side, great spring thunderheads gathered in the distance, turning the Arion Sea a steely gray. To the other, a sweeping line of trees blocked the palace from view, their weeping branches dripping with pink blossoms.

“Here you are,” Adrial said, his heart sinking as Ena let go of his hand.

Don’t be a fool, Adrial Ayres. You may be Guilded, but you are still a broken man.

Ena ran to the nearest tree, grabbing a low branch and launching herself up. She seemed to fly for a moment before finding her footing on a higher limb.

I want to watch her fly through the trees forever.

There was no joy in the thought. Only the empty echo of impossibility.

In less than a minute, Ena reached the top of the tallest of the branches and pulled down a bunch of flowers. She held the blooms to her nose for a moment before shoving them into one of the many pockets hidden in her skirt.

“Won’t that ruin them?” Adrial asked.

“Some things are better broken.” She grabbed a branch and dangled by her hands for a moment before dropping to the ground as though falling from great heights were the most natural thing in the world.

“You should be careful,” Adrial said as his heart righted its rhythm after her fall.

“I didn’t even lose my flower.” Ena displayed the orange bloom. “You worry too much, scribe. If you fuss over every little thing that might kill you, how will you have time to enjoy the things worth living for?”

Lightning split the sky over the Arion Sea.

“We should go before the storm hits.” Adrial reached for Ena’s hand as a low rumble of thunder carried above the rustling of the wind battering the leaves.

“No.” Ena tucked her hands behind her back, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Let the storm come. What are you afraid of? You aren’t wearing your pretty white robes.”

Another streak of lightning lit the graying sky.

“If we go back now, we might get most of the way to the city before it rains.”

“Why should we run from the storm?” Ena stepped forward, taking Adrial’s face in her hands. “The storm will come whether we stay on the cliff or not. The storm can kill us in our beds if Death has decided to claim us. So why flee from the rain?”

“Ena.”

Her eyes sparkled, not with teasing or laughter, but with something else. A fierceness Adrial had never seen in them before. Her face was only inches from his, and the wind whipping around them surrounded Adrial in her scent.

“Say you’ll stay through the storm, scribe,” Ena whispered as thunder cracked. “Say you’ll stay through the pounding rain and unending winds.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Ena let go of Adrial and tipped her face to the sky as drops began to fall. “I love the rain. I love to revel in it.”

“To revel in the mud and muck?” He wanted to reach out and brush the raindrops away from her cheek. To touch her hair and see if the color would rub off on his skin.

“The rain doesn’t make the mud. The dirt does that. When the rain touches us, it’s clean, perfect. It doesn’t care if we’re common or Guilded. It pours upon us all just the same. I want to dance in it. To stand in the middle of the storm and scream my rage at the sky.” Ena looked to Adrial as the rain began in earnest. “There are some wounds too deep for mortal men to understand. But I think the sky might.

“It feels like the whole sky is crying with me. The rain feels everything I feel. And touches every part of me as it weeps. It makes me feel as vast as the mountains and as tiny as a raindrop all at once.” Ena walked to the edge of the cliff, her face unafraid as her toes touched the ledge. “I want to fly away on the back of the storm. See how desperately far from here it’s possible to go.”

“I wish I could see the world as you do,” Adrial said. “If only for a moment.”

“You could, scribe, if only you’d look beyond the tip of your quill.” Ena reached for his hand.

“I wish I could believe that. But the pen is my place.” A pang stung Adrial’s chest as he took her hand. His was a world of walls and rules. Not flying into freedom.

Ena pulled him forward to stand next to her at the very edge of the cliff.

There was nothing between him and falling to his death. The winds of the storm raged past him as thunder cracked in the air.

“You’ve never thought of burning your pen and running from the Guilds?” Ena didn’t look at Adrial as she spoke. Her gaze stayed fixed on the storm as rain battered the edge of the city.

“I can’t. I’ve nothing else I can do to be useful in this life. And even if I could, the scribes need me.”

“Then we’d better go.” Ena took his arm as she had before and led Adrial back to the path as the rain picked up. “We can’t afford to have you fall to your death. If you’re not alive to take the seat as Lord Scribe, I can’t imagine what sort of slitch they’ll give the spot to.”

“The worst kind of getching paun.” Adrial shivered, not from the chill of the rain, but from the thought of someone like Travers taking the role of Lord Scribe.

“Language, scribe. Does the worst paun have ink spots on his cuffs? Or bad penmanship, perhaps?”

“He hates the commoners.” Adrial tried to swallow the words. He didn’t know why he was telling Ena, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. The weight of Gareth’s lecture still hung too heavily on his mind. “He hates that he has to work in the shop to serve the people. Honestly, I think if the soldiers wanted to rid Ilara of all commoners, he’d think it a grand idea.”

“That chivving slitch of a paun.” Ena rounded on Adrial. “And you, scribe? What do you think? Do all common folk deserve to be slaughtered?” Ena’s eyes darkened to a more frightening gray than the storm.

“No,” Adrial said. “A life is a life, Guilded or not. If I had been one room farther down the hall when Lord Karron came to Ian Ayres, he never would have seen me. I would have stayed stuck on that awful island. Would I not still be human then?”

“But what about when the next attack comes? And this time it’s more than four in black who die?”

“The soldiers are guarding the city―”

“If you believe that was the end of it, you’re a chivving fool. A worse fool than the men who thought they could make things better for the masses by attacking in the open.”

“The people of Ilara shouldn’t be punished for the work of a few madmen.” Rain streamed down Adrial’s face. “The soldiers will do everything they can to find the attackers and protect the city.”

“The soldiers think it was common folk who set the explosions. If they prove it, will you stand on the council―”

“I’m not on the council.”

“You will be.” Ena laid a finger on Adrial’s lips as he began to argue. “You’ll be one of seven to cast a vote on whether the tilk should be driven from the city to starve in the south.” She moved her finger from his lips to his chin.

“The entire city would starve without the unguilded. Clearing the commoners out of Ilara would be bad for everyone,” Adrial said. “I would have the men who attacked found. I would fight to keep the peace. The world isn’t split into Guilded and killers. It doesn’t matter if a bad man wears the seven-pointed star or not. We can all do harm.”

“So you’ll protect the common folk when they give you your fancy robe?” Ena asked.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make life better for all of us.”

“And you won’t let the common folk starve when the city burns?” Ena placed her hand over Adrial’s heart.

“The city won’t―”

“It will, and when it does, there’s no other Guild Lord who will care for anything beyond his walls.”

“I won’t let people starve. Not while there’s food to be found.”

Ena leaned in, pressing her lips to Adrial’s cheek. She lingered for a moment, her body next to his. “Then you might be the one to save us all.”

She took Adrial’s hand in hers, for the first time not walking ahead dragging him, but walking beside him as the rain poured down.

“Travers doesn’t think I’m strong enough to lead,” Adrial said. “He thinks I’ll be the death of the Guild.”

“You’re stronger than all of them, Adrial.”

Adrial’s heart leapt as she said his name.

“Why do you say that?” Adrial asked.

“Because you’re still alive,” Ena said as they reached the road to the gate. “Can you ride, scribe?”

“Yes, but I don’t have a horse up here.” Adrial wished he had as the rain turned colder. “I could ask at the stables―”

“I don’t mean to get down the road. I mean to carry you up to the mountains. I can walk, but it would take you a week.”

“Why would I be going to the mountains? I had to sneak away just to get here.”

“You’re coming to the mountains because I’ve told you to get two horses and enough food for two days’ journey and meet me beyond the northern gate two weeks from tomorrow,” Ena said.

“Why two weeks from tomorrow?”

“If you want to learn to fly, scribe, you’ll have to dare to take the first leap. Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes.” The word swallowed Adrial whole.