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“When Conner told me you were coming here, I hoped he’d let me stay in the bed,” Imogen said. “I could’ve escaped from there to help you. Maybe he knew that too, because he sent me here. Either way, I’m not strong enough yet to help you fight.”
“Your only duty is to get well,” I said, and then gave her a mischievous smile. “There is unfinished business between us.”
“I’m going to be ill if they leave me in here with you two,” Roden groaned. “Jaron, even with Imogen’s key, we can’t get through the bars. And even if we did, the estate is full of Avenian soldiers. You and I are going to be executed at first light. Please tell me you can stop this.”
“Of course I can,” I said. “We’re going to win.”
As the night wore on, I told Imogen and Roden about Mott’s uncertain condition, about Tobias and Amarinda, and about our progress in the war. In turn, Roden told me everything from the time I left him near Drylliad.
“We were on the march when Mendenwal attacked. They came so quickly, we had no time to do anything but react.” Roden tilted his head so that I might better see his injury. “Unfortunately, I got this rather early in the battle, when a horse reared up and then landed on me.”
“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“It was worse, for most of my men. I awoke on a battlefield blanketed with the dead. I’ve never seen anything more awful. Soldiers from Mendenwal were searching for survivors, and when they found me, they recognized me as a captain. They said Avenia had demanded I be brought here.”
“Were you able to learn anything from their leaders about Mendenwal’s involvement in this war?” It was a question that still bothered me.
He thought it over for a minute, and then said, “Now that you mention it, two of the men who escorted me were in an angry conversation about Avenia sending them to die while Vargan held his own armies back. They weren’t leaders, but I’m sure there are others who feel the same way.”
“Ah, good.”
“It’s not good, Jaron. I’m sorry. You made me captain, and I failed you.”
“No one could’ve done more,” I said optimistically. “Besides, I’ll need your help tomorrow. Maybe our odds could be better — I admit that — but I believe we’re positioned very well for success.”
“Chained up in the dungeons of our enemy, on the verge of total defeat, and set for execution?”
I shrugged. “I already said that things could be better. But they could be worse too. Cheer up, Roden!”
“Do you remember our first morning here at Farthenwood? Tobias was still asleep, or we thought he was. You said it didn’t matter if you died, because there was no one left who loved you and so your death wouldn’t cause anyone pain.”
I remembered that well, though it seemed so long ago now.
Roden’s eyes shifted to Imogen. “That’s not true for you now, obviously. But it still is for me. If you have to sacrifice me to win this war, and to save your own life, I will be honored to go that way.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “Either my head will be in the noose next to yours, or I’ll figure out some way to save us both. Personally, I prefer the latter.”
Roden mumbled in agreement, then turned his attention to Imogen. “If they do take us, then without Jaron, they’ll have no reason to keep you here. So once you’re free, will you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“I have only the one name for my gravestone, like a servant or an orphan would. But I’m more than that now, and I don’t want to be remembered only as Roden.”
“You may have any name you wish,” I offered. “Including that of my own house.”
Roden gave his thanks, but he already seemed to have another name in mind. He said, “When I was a baby, an old Avenian woman was my caretaker. But it was a brutal winter and she became sick. Before she died, she left me with a midwife and told her my mother had been named Havanila. She mentioned no other family, and the midwife eventually gave me to an orphanage. I’d like to use my mother’s name on my gravestone, Roden of the house of Havanila.”
Havanila. The name echoed in my ears.
“Why have you never told me this story?” I breathed out the words, barely able to use my voice.
He shrugged as if none of that mattered. “There was nothing to tell. Obviously my parents were dead, which is how I came into that old woman’s care. Why?”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Roden’s mother had a name I’d never heard anywhere before, except from one other man. Roden was Harlowe’s younger son, the infant who had been taken in an attempt to extract a ransom from Harlowe. But before the exchange could be made, the Avenian woman who had taken him died. Unaware of his noble birth, the midwife sent Roden to an orphanage, where he remained until Conner brought him to Farthenwood. Roden was chosen because he looked a little like me, and I’d often been told that I looked somewhat like Harlowe’s other son and Roden’s brother, Mathis.
Except they were family, and I was not.
Roden had a father. Who would be in attendance tomorrow as Roden and I were hanged at the gallows. Roden deserved to know that, to look Harlowe directly in the eyes for a final farewell.
