Dayne was last in line.His look stopped my heart.
I was leaving him alone in a quiet world of duty and obligation.He was the only one I spoke to outside of prescription.His loneliness loomed all around him, almost like a halo, and just when I thought I could bear the look in his eyes no longer, he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around me.
“Do not forget,” he whispered into my hair.“You are dispensable to the order.But you are not dispensable to me.”
A lump formed in my throat.Was he saying I should not die to keep the vault at the Hard-Won Kepen protected?If he were, that was nonsense.I would guard it at all costs.That was my purpose.
I relaxed my hold on him, thinking our hug was finished and we were parting, but he didn’t let go.The hug went on, and I began to feel that hecouldn’tlet go.
“We will write,” I said, trying to soothe him before the intensity of the goodbye became too much and I cried.“You will be a great grainkeeper, and I will be a goldkeeper, and we will do our work well and write often.”And then I added softly, “Dayne, you must let me go now.”
He obeyed, his jaw ticking as he wiped his cheek quickly to disguise the tears.
I think this moment sums up our lives perfectly.Dayne and I were bred and raised for work that took no account of our feelings.And always, I was the first to let go.
Rowan was there as well.And miraculously, powerfully, beautifully—as I walked to my carriage—his eyes flicked up to mine.Green and full of sentiment.How many years had we lived and worked in the same space?We’d spoken as children, played in the courtyard together before I was given my first iron gown and play stopped for me.I’d thought so much about him as I grew.But his look as I was leaving… Had he been thinking about me all this time, too?
So with an ache in my heart, and a little curiosity about the smith’s apprentice in my mind, I climbed into my carriage.I left my family and home, choosing to look forward.The journey would take at least a month along the ancient, stone road that ran cross-wise through the Isle, curving a little north when it passed the fjord at Kell’s Crossing.
Seven
The carriage creaked and groaned as the horses outside lugged it forward, each hour bringing me closer to the Hard-Won Kepen and my impending marriage.I spent much of the journey looking out the small window, enjoying the sight of mist-coated hills, oak forests, and wild birch groves gleaming red and orange and yellow.The air tasted of soil and decaying leaves, and it washed my cheeks and nose in a pleasant cold, urging me to tuck my fingers into my sleeves.
From time to time, I thought of my new assignment—the vault I would encounter in a fortnight or so.I had only seen the one from the Kepen at the Arched Cliffs, so imagined it much the same.
Will this one speak as well?
The vault at my childhood home whispered things.Malicious, taunting things.But on occasion, sweet temptations.It asked for things that I knew I mustn’t give it.And I also knew I shouldn’t speak of its voice.Not to anyone.Not even within the order.Some things were too secret to be uttered, or even thought about.I remembered the first time Elfrith had heard it.She’d been seven when my mother took her to the vault, which would mean I’d have been thirteen.
The vault had whispered,Hello, sweet girl, and Elfrith’s mouth opened.“What’s—” I shook my head, warning her, but it was too late.Her hands were beaten raw with stinging nettle.She learned quickly, much more quickly than I had.I never heard her mention the voice again.But it was there.I know you can hear me.Oh, yes.I know.
I also thought of my mother’s face when she’d heard that Loric had asked for no piercings.She’s going to look lowly and poor, my mother had said.
I grinned every time I thought of it.
When the rain and mist were too thick to allow a pleasant view from the window, I rested on the single, padded bench within the carriage.There I fell asleep staring at the painting my father had gifted me upon my departure—the one I was so fond of—wondering at the story Loric’s attendant had told me about it.
I let my fingers ramble across the strings of my lyre and hummed and felt all the girlish uncertainty that came with a fast-approaching marriage to a strange man who’d been kindly enough to me that I could overlook how little I knew about him.I thought myself grown up and travelling alone, even though there were half a dozen knighted attendants with me, sworn swords to my father, or Loric’s father.But since these attendants would not enter the carriage, I felt alone.They slept outside when we stopped for rest or horse exchanges.I heard them chatting among themselves, and I did strain, trying to hear with detail and clarity, but they kept quiet enough that I couldn’t tell you what they spoke of.There were only a few men as any more might reveal the truth of the carriage—that it was transporting a gentlewoman with a dress full of gold.The type of cart and the attire of the attendants and the large brass padlocks on the cart door would lead anyone who saw us to believe that a prisoner was being transported.Perhaps a murderer, a thief, or a sorcerer.Yes, make your jests if you must.I have been called all these things.I told you, I care not.
What I’m saying is it was a pleasant trip.
Until it wasn’t.
We reached Kell’s Crossing in the early hours of the morning.Maybe I didn’t notice the commotion outside the carriage right away, maybe I did, I cannot say.I know I was half sleeping and that I must have fallen asleep with my lyre in my hands because it was on the bench with me when I woke.
There was a thump as a body slammed back against the carriage from the outside.
At first, I was confused.But then I heard the gag-sputter-choke-wail of someone with their insides quickly becoming outsides, and I was no longer confused.A part of me understood there was danger immediately, even though I’d never heard a noise like that before.
I scrambled in the purplish glow of almost-morning away from the window.
The sound of death spread, encircling the carriage as my heart raced so fast it seemed like it might burst out of my chest.And then the din was met by something even more terrifying—howls and yips and barks of the kind animals made, but coming from deep—very human—voices.The chill it sent through me stalled my mind, and maybe I would have stayed that way for a long, empty time if there wasn’t a bang on the door.
I heard the clunky jangle of someone tugging at the padlock and tried to shift further back and away, but it wasn’t a large space.I thought of hiding within the bench because maybe it opened, but I had my goldkeeper’s gown on.I would have to undress if I were to fit in the space, and there wasn’t time for that, nor was this something I could allow for as a goldkeeper or a young woman.I was meant to be guarding the gold in my dress, not abandoning it to save myself.And all these thoughts might have been useless because I didn’t know whether the bench opened.
There was another bang, and I scrambled, lugging the chests of gold out from the edge of the cart, feeling the zippy bite of the vault’s sting course through me and reverberate through the gold in my gown.Luckily, I still wore my goldkeeper’s slippers.The soles were lined with lemure bark which protected me from the vault’s sting.I’d captured a little of the sting from the vault at home and applied it to the chests—one chest was from my father, for me to keep for myself, the other was the one Loric had given me to spend.There wasn’t a lot of sting coating the chests—if three or four thieves touched it, the final one might get away without a scalding jolt.I had a spool of golden thread in my goldkeeper’s kit and unravelled it as fast as my trembling fingers would allow, which felt terrifyingly slow at the time.
I’d been planning on winding the thread around the handle of the carriage door—which was iron—and winding another end around one of the chests to borrow the sting.Whoever tried to pull on the handle would get a nasty surprise.
