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I pointed to the opposite end of the chapel. An inconspicuous door was set in the wall beside the tall brass pipes of an organ that rose to the vaulted ceiling. “To the belfry.”
“Are you sure?“ Graham whispered. “The chapel seems fine to me.”
“Then stay. But I’m going.”
He reluctantly followed me past the pews and through the door. The tall narrow space was empty except for a spiral staircase. I started up it.
The iron steps creaked and shuddered as I climbed. I glanced down to see Graham holding tightly to the railing, his knuckles whitening as he slowly made his way up. Eventually, we emerged onto a circular platform. A rope hung in the center of the steeple and a wooden ladder rested against the stone wall, leading to another platform above. I grasped a rung and pulled myself up.
“I’m not climbing that flimsy thing,” said Graham, his face as pale as his hands.
I continued up the ladder. “What? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”
He bit his lip.
“You’ll have to get over that if you intend to spend much time with me.”
“Can’t we stay down here?” he asked in a quiet voice. “It’s secluded enough.”
“See that rope? If someone comes to ring the bell, we’ll lose our hiding place.”
I reached the top of the ladder and pulled myself onto the upper platform. A bell hung from the ceiling, green with patina and bigger than my head. Two windows were set into the stone. From up here, nothing obstructed the view all the way to the city wall, even with hundreds of rooftops in between.
I looked down through the hole in the platform. Graham was only halfway up the ladder. He climbed with his teeth clenched and his jaw tight. When he got to the top, I offered my hand. He took it and stepped onto the platform, breathing a pinched sigh.
We sat down and leaned against the cool curved walls, quiet other than our breathing. I wished it could stay that way—peaceful, quiet, without lies. I longed for honest, unrestrained conversation instead of these calculated ones. What would I give to have nothing to hide?
Graham stared at the city through the arched window. His gaze pointed toward the distant Brennin House. If we weren’t so far away, we’d see the white flag waving on its roof, emblazoned with a blue horse.
“Maybe it’s better if I don’t become king,” he said, breaking the silence.
“I wouldn’t want all that attention either,” I said.
“It’s not just that.” He paused and looked at me, his eyes reflecting the solemn gray of the sky, before looking back out the window. “My brother should have been in my place.”
I fidgeted, suddenly unsure of what to do with my fingers. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Ewan would have done this so much better than I could.” He sighed and clasped his hands over his knees.
“I’m sure you’d be better than your mother,” I blurted out. “No offense.”
He smiled, despite my disrespect. “I don’t know. She’s more capable than I am.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I don’t know.” He looked down and rested his hand on the rough wood platform. “Before reading your book, I believed my parents ruled Cambria with perfect wisdom and justice. Certainly, they had to make difficult decisions, but now I’m starting to wonder if banishing people is . . . cruel.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as if he could barely handle hearing his own words. “And wrong.”
I nodded, urging him on.
He swallowed. “No one can know I said that.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I agree completely.”
He leaned into the wall behind him. “But then again, if the outlaws really are planning an attack, perhaps theyshouldbe feared.”
I held my breath. What I said next could change the course of the future. “Look. Your father has banished more people in his reign than the Irvines did in the eighty years before him. Every time he creates an outlaw, he adds another soldier to their army. These people don’twantviolence. The king has ripped them from their homes and torn families apart. Can you blame them for wanting their lives back?”
“I don’t know.” Graham buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
