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Rowan led us to an open space in the middle of the cottages. My boots landed on smooth stones. The ground was paved with them, almost like a street in Cambria. Benches lined the edge of the open space, and a blackened fire pit marked the center. It still smelled of smoke.
Rowan crossed the paving stones to a bell hanging on a pole. She pulled a rope, sending its tolls through the quiet village. It sounded strange and unnatural here, like the city was leaking into the outside world.
“Sit.” She gestured to a bench in front of the fire pit.
I reluctantly obeyed. She wasn’t warm or welcoming, but that wasn’t what bothered me. Being around her made me uncomfortably aware of my own failings. She was the kind of person my father wanted me to be— authoritarian and always in control—but in reality, I was so far from that.
The villagers gathered, their voices rising as their numbers grew. When the benches were filled and surrounded by observers, Rowan addressed the crowd. “We have visitors. Bryn Yarrow, who claims to be an ambassador from Tramore”—she appraised me from the corner of her eye before turning her gaze beside me—“and Sir Graham Brennin.”
The crowd went quiet for a beat, as if drawing a collective breath. All eyes fixed on Graham.
Then the noise returned, loud and angry. The clamor of voices made each word indistinguishable from the rest. I wished Graham hadn’t been so trusting.
Rowan rang the bell again, quieting most of the voices but not all.
“Cambria’s precious heir?” said someone behind us.
“What business have you got here?” a man asked. “Come to pick up a fresh steak for a royal banquet?”
“Here to make sure we’re workin’ hard enough?” a woman with a baby on her hip asked. “You’re welcome to chop down trees for a day to find out.”
Graham’s face reddened. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice unsure. “I—”
“The little heir is out to see how much more he can take from us. Or is it king now? Has your father been nagged to death by the queen yet?”
“Nah. He’s brought his lady to impress ‘er. ‘Look at all the slaves I got, m’lady. Aren’t I the perfect tyrant?’”
“She’s from Tramore?” said a voice behind me. I turned to see the red-headed teacher who followed us here. “Why would she be with the heir? He must be manipulating her. She’s hardly said a word after all, so—”
“Oh, I’ll say a word, ginger!” I shot to my feet and faced him. “None of you have a clue!” I pointed at Graham. “This man isn’t his father. He’s not like any king before him. And if you’dlistento him, you might end up with something more than a head full of tripe.” I glared at the teacher for too long before taking a deep breath and sinking back to the bench.
Whoa. What happened to my attempt at charm?
But at least everyone was quiet.
Graham stared at me wide-eyed, then lifted his chin and stood. “Well, now that I’ve had a proper introduction, let me explain myself. I know you don’t trust me—and I don’t blame you—but we’re here to help. There’s a war brewing among the outlaws.“ He paused, appraising the crowd. “I imagine you’re aware of it.”
Fearful eyes shifted, some to Rowan, others to me.
“We weren’t,” said Rowan, “but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
The crowd laughed and some cheered.
I frowned. Based on what my father told me, I was under the impression that all the islands were uniting for the attack, though it would be led by the people of Tramore. Either Rowan was lying—which was perfectly reasonable, given the fact that she was talking to the heir—or the news of the uprising hadn’t yet made it to Gellor.
Graham tried to keep the surprise from his face, but the lift of his right eyebrow revealed it, at least to me. Still, he had to continue. He’d been trying to pretend we’d come here for an important reason, so if he didn’t say something impressive, I doubted these people would just let us walk away.
“I’ve recently begun to learn more about your people,” he finally said. “I’ve seen how much we depend upon you, and yet, you’ve been isolated, banished, and persecuted by Cambria. I understand why war may seem appealing.” His eyes were as clear and honest as his intentions and his words were every bit as persuasive as a king’s should be.
He looked at me and I nodded, urging him on.
“It’s my duty to protect the people within and outside the wall. Instead of war, imagine how we’d benefit from an alliance. Let’s make a pledge for peace.”
“An alliance?” The red-headed teacher spoke with as much skepticism as before. “So, we promise not to join in an uprising—and then what? You let us continue our miserable lives? You’re not really giving us any options, are you?”
“Don’t forget who he is,” someone in the crowd shouted. “We can’t trust him!”
“Sorry, Brennin.” The teacher stepped forward aggressively. “But honestly, how could this possibly benefit us?” His messy red hair shadowed his face and his mouth tightened.
