The Conquering, page 36:

  We spent many hot summer nights trying and trying again. Varuht practiced first with animal bones—deer and wolves. Ground bone ash mixed with metal, again and again. But every attempt made the blade too brittle to get the blade sufficiently sharp without it breaking at the slightest impact. I assured him if he could get the blade forged, straight, and sharp, that the brittleness would be resolved in the end, but I don’t know if he believed me.

  Deer and wolves had not the same propensity for heat as wyvern bones. But we’d only get two chances once we had the real wyvern bones.

  After nearly an entire summer of practice, Varuht finally mastered it. The fusion, the thinness, the razor-sharp edge. He was ready.

  So we planned our most daring adventure yet: to kill a wyvern.

  “Are you out of your rotting mind?” a barrel-chested man demands from the edge of the camp. The same short, tree-trunks-for-arms man who’d tried to intimidate me at Black’s Tavern.

  “No more than usual.” Abel navigates around the man and directs me closer to the camp, a hand at my back. We’d put our horses in a roped-off pen, still tacked—hopefully that means Abel intends to return me alive. “Aubrey, this is Bear, our lead here. Level head, in charge of this camp, that sort of thing.”

  “Nice to meet you.” My attempt at a curtsy gets aborted by Abel’s tug on my arm. This is it. My opportunity. Farnell’s life depends on convincing these people to help me. Already doubt creeps in, like a whisper flitting under a locked door.

  Bear stomps alongside us. “How did you get her out of their protection? Isn’t she watched constantly since the wyvern attack? Were you followed?”

  Abel scoffs. “Of course I wasn’t followed. Besides, she climbed out the window.” He leans towards me, eyes dancing mischievously, and gestures at the rows of tents and small bonfire at the center. “This is our camp. There are dozens more like it throughout the countryside. This is the closest to the city.”

  Bear groans.

  We skirt along the perimeter of the camp. Several people dance around the largest fire pits to a lively tune played by a boy and his fiddle. Two children run across our path, skipping to the side just in time to avoid a collision with Bear, who barks a warning. Foreign spices and the savory char of cooking food wafts from a lean-to on the opposite side of the clearing where a smaller fire blazes beneath a large pot.

  Another man breaks away from the cookfire and intercepts us, clapping Abel’s shoulder. He beams at me with a wide, friendly smile, even as what appears to be beer sloshes from the mug in his opposite hand. He’s even taller than Abel and almost as broad as Bear. “Who’s this here, Abel? Don’t tell me you went and got yourself a lass and didn’t…” His gaze snags on the gold of my temple, then drops to the gold exposed at my wrists. “Skies, is she a Gold?”

  “Chip, this is Lady Aubrey Gallant.”

  “Will’s girl?” Chip pulls off his cap and clutches it to his chest. More frothy beer spills over his mug’s lip.

  My throat tightens, and I force myself into another curtsy. That reverence. That knowing in their eyes. I’d gotten so few years with Father, so few hours. These people knew him better than his own daughter.

  “Mm,” Abel confirms and touches my elbow. “Come. If you want us to storm the Pits, you’ll have to convince the council.”

  This rag-tag group has a council?

  The four of us reach a large tent and Abel pulls the flap aside for me to enter.

  I slip under his arm, earth and the scent of horses radiating from him, and entered the tent.

  Three people sit around a large table: a man and two women. Women. One is tall, maybe a few years younger than Clara, with long black braids draping over her shoulders and an ornately decorated sheathed dagger perched on the table in front of her. The other is as slight as Farnell and about his age. Her brown hair is cut like a boy’s, but her face is unmistakably feminine, though her scowl seems intent on defying that feature.

  “You’re late, Abel,” says the woman with the rich, dark skin and her eyes narrow on me with a sharp perceptiveness that sends my heartbeat skittering. Truly a woman in power? “We’ve been sitting here nearly an hour. Do you enjoy keeping us waiting?”

  “I admit I rather do,” Abel says as he comes to stand beside me, his face splits into a broad smile. “Aubrey, you met Bear and Chip already. This is Skully.”

  Skully nods in quiet acknowledgement, turning over the sheathed blade in her hands and rhythmically touching its gemstones.

  Bear, and Chip take seats at the table.

  Abel remains beside me and nods at the much younger redheaded girl. “That’s Red.”

  Red’s lip curls and she crosses her arms over her narrow chest. She has a crossbow in her lap that’s partially taken apart, with pieces strewn on the table. I wonder why they call her Red.

  “And Clifford.” Abel nod at the last member I haven’t met.

  Clifford’s hair is flecked with considerable grey and close to the age my father would have been if he were still alive, though his eyes hold a bright intelligence. A slow smile warms his features. “She’s the spitting image of William. Same eyes, same jaw.”

  That strikes me somewhere at the back of my gut. “Thank you.”

  “What I’m sure all of us are wondering, Abel, is why you brought the Gold here?” Skully asks, her voice deep and threaded with loathing. “I have to question your motives on this one, for it seems exceptionally stupid to me, even for you.”

  Abel’s grin only widens. “Don’t worry, I blindfolded her. Guesses, anyone?”

  Chip raises his eyebrows and takes a swallow from his mug. “She’s pretty, Abel, but even this seems a little much for you.”

  “You’re all a bunch of daft pricks,” Red spits. “He didn’t drag us all here in the middle of the night to show off. Obviously she’s got something for us. Spit it out! Quit wasting my pissing time, Abel.”

  Abel laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “Tell them what you want, Aubrey.”

  Desire to flee lashes up my spine. I fist my hands in my skirts. This is for Farnell. Farnell, who was there for me when Father died, who took a brutal beating for a crime I committed and never gave up my name. I set my jaw, raise my chin, straighten my spine. Composure. Commitment. Conviction. “I want your help to rescue my friend from the Pits. I know that—”

  Chip sprays a mouthful of beer all over the table.

  “Damnit, Chip!” Red jerks back in her chair and wipes at her arm.

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  “You’re joking,” Chip says, still coughing.

  “Can’t be done.” Skully turns on Abel. “Is this nonsense really what you gathered us here for?”

  “I’m not finished,” I snap, that addictive burn of frustration and anger rising in my chest. All eyes flick back to me. “I know it’s not been done—the whole one way in, one way out problem—I know! But there’s another way out.”

  They exchange dubious glances.

  “I, for one,” Clifford says, pressing his fingertips together, “would like to hear what she has to say about this alternate exit. We’ve lost more than a few men to the Pits this year alone. I don’t like the idea of sending anyone on a suicide mission, but we owe it to Gregor and Miles and Flint, to name a few, to hear her out.”

  “Where did you get this information?” Skully pulls the dagger from its pretty sheet and the hanging lantern’s flame winks and glistens across the smooth steel. “What’s your source?”

  I draw in a steadying breath and tighten my grip on my skirts. “I’m the source. I’ve been there. I know the knock-code for the door from the east courtyard. I know the path through the pits to the second door. I know where it opens up inside the palace. I know, roughly, the number of guards inside and a layout of at least the upper chamber and what I could see of the lower area.”

  Skully stops twirling her blade and stares at me. “And we’re supposed to believe you just waltzed in and out of the monarchy’s infamous under-palace labor prison?”

  ‘The Prince took me’ doesn’t exactly sound like it’ll help my cause at the moment, however truthful. So instead, I step forward and rap my knuckles on the table in the exact same cadence as the High Guard had. And then I let them have it. Every single detail I can remember, from the staircase down, to the platform, the holding cell, the snake-faced Pitmaster, and every guard I saw inside. The rancid smell of sweat and blood and piss. The tunnel. The stairs. The twists and turns up to the door that led into the palace hallway.

  Clifford and Skully exchange a look. Red’s mouth falls open. Bear and Chip just stare.

  Red snaps her jaw shut. “I don’t like it. I don’t trust her. It could be a trap. A good one.”

  “Red certainly has a point. What reason do we have to trust you?” Clifford says, splaying his steepled fingers.

  I stare at them. Do they expect me to pay them? Swear some kind of fealty? It’s never-ending. Insurmountable. Even more people who knew my father better than I did. The utter hopelessness of my marriage situation. My general failure at everything I’ve ever attempted to accomplish. And now this.

  I swallow it all down and away. Clara taught me better. “Because I know it’s a half-sunset’s ride here on my horse, traveling just slightly south of east. I know how far it is from the forest’s edge. I know how the forest changes from humid to musky to moldy, past a stream, into the densest part.”

  “You said you blindfolded her!” Red jumps to her feet.

  Abel shrugs. Still, he smiles.

  If I have to be meek at home, I damn sure won’t be meek here, too. “He did. But he didn’t plug my ears or my nose. You can kill me, but would you dare? I’ve risked my safety coming here, both amongst yourselves and back in the city. Do you know what happens to sympathizers? Do you know what happens to anyone suspected of helping you lot? Well, here I am. I’m asking for your help in righting what we all know is a terrible wrong. This is what you do, isn’t it? Or have I come to ask the help of a bunch of cowards?”

  They stare.

  I might’ve gone too far.

  “So,” Abel says brightly. “Are we all just a bunch of cowards?”

  Skully and Red continue to glare, but a small smile spreads across Clifford’s face.

  Bear throws up his hands. “Why do any of us even try to reason with that madman? Who allowed him on this council?”

  Chip laughs. “Well, we might not be bloody cowards, but we might be bloody stupid.”

  “Who is your friend? Who is this person you’re willing to divulge treasonous information for?” Skully asks, still with those narrowed, suspicious eyes.

  Farnell and his mangled face, shackled, toiling away at the end of a whip. Emotion swells up into my throat, but I will not bend and I will not break. Not tonight. “My cousin. Farnell.”

  “What’s his crime, this cousin?”

  Unease creeps up my spine. She knows. “He stole a book. With me.”

  The entire ambiance shifts from skeptical intrigue to focused interest.

  Except for Skully, who sets her dagger down on the table and folds her hands. For the very first time, the tiniest smile quirks her lips. “We’ve heard of this missing book. Do you have it?”

  The moment I damn myself. “Yes.”

  Everyone talks at once.

  Abel silences them. “I think I speak for all of us when I ask: what’s in this book that’s so important? You’ve read it, yes?”

  Of course I’ve read it. But to speak of it feels even more like betraying my country than any step I’ve taken so far. Yet… to not feels like betraying Kheovaria’s memory. “It’s a history. Of the First King’s conquering. It describes the city as being run by the wyverns before the conquering—not that the city was built afterwards.”

  “What else?” Skully presses, eyes bright, predatory.

  “It… loosely describes how the First King made the Wyvernblade.”

  That did it.

  Bear, silent up to this point, lurches from his chair. “Abel, why are we messing around here? She has that book?”

  Red rips slender throwing daggers from each hip, sending her dismantled crossbow clattering to the floor. “Give us the book!”

  I stumble back.

  Abel catches me around the waist and I’m about to flail away from him, too, when he waves a dismissive hand at the others. “Now, now, let’s not get out of hand.” He dips his chin to look at me with those devilish, dancing eyes. “You have the book, yes? With you?”

  “Of course not,” I say, a little breathless from the jump of fear pulsing my body. I extract myself from the wrap of his arm and curse the way my voice wobbles. I cannot be weak. If I can smile at court, withstand Clara’s berating, and reject the Prince, I sure as hell can pull it together here. “I’m not an idiot. It’s hidden where you’ll never find it. If you want the book, save Farnell. That’s all I ask. Seems a fair trade to me.”

  “I say we kill her and search her for the book!” Red leans across the table and swipes at the air with her blade.

  Skully rolls her eyes and catches Red by the back of her coat and pulls her back into the chair. “What proof do you have that this book is in your possession?”

  I refuse to flinch this time, even when my nerves demand it. Instead, I pull the torn-out page from my skirt pocket, unfold it, and slap it onto the table.

  Red starts for it, but draws up short when Clifford raises his hand. He, alone, leans across the table and picks it up. His eyes scan it quickly, then he offers it to Skully. Her brows rise and she passes it around the table until finally Chip passes it back to Abel.

  Abel scans the page, then he looks up at me. For the first time since our arrival, his expression has lost all its playfulness. “This is a very dangerous thing for you to have.”

  I know this, but his acknowledgment scares me most of all.

  Abel turns to his council. “What say you, my friends?”

  “It would seem we have little choice,” Clifford says.

  “Aye.” Bear nods.

  A general assent passes amongst the rest.

  “Well, that settles it.” Abel claps his hands together like this has all been fun. “I think I ought to take you home now, before it gets much later.”

  Outside the tent, I almost feel like I can breathe again. Back out in the rich sharp woodiness of pine, damp moss, and campfire smoke. My own personal panacea. Abel guides me with a hand on my back along the shadowy edge of the wood, like he can sense my need for its quiet.

  “You did well back there,” he says, as the glow of the bonfire and its laughing patrons fades behind us.

  I numbly nod. I just agreed to give the rebels the book. They agreed to rescue Farnell. It’s what I came here for. I’m supposed to feel better. Accomplished. Relieved. Instead, my insides feel jarred and out of sorts. Skies, I’m terrified. And still, just as powerless as before.

  I draw up short. “I have one more demand.”

  Abel pauses, his raised eyebrows barely visible in the faint glow of the now-distant bonfire. “Oh?”

  “Teach me to defend myself.”

  He laughs and the sound disappears into the dark of the forest. “I don’t think so.”

  I blink, shocked by the intensity of pain stabbing into my chest. Indignation roars in its wake. I turn on the spot and storm away from him. To where, I haven’t the slightest idea, but I march all the same.

  “Whoa, I’m sorry I laughed! Where are you going? It’s not something I can just teach in an afternoon.”

  I rip my skirts from a branch and step over it.

  Abel jogs up beside me. “Hey, now—”

  “Deal’s off.” I keep walking.

  “Oh, come on.” He sidesteps to face me. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Hmm.” Oh, I’m very serious. So serious my hands shake. Skies, what am I doing?

  He stops and throws his hands in the air.

  I keep walking, unable to stop this suicide march to my doom.

  He curses. “Fine!”

  I stop. Fine?

  He catches up and turns me to face him. He’s smiling. His eyes meet mine and the way he looks at me claws at some raw, sensitive part inside me.

  He steps closer. Each of his long lashes curls shiny and black, reflecting the light of a torch stabbed into the ground just a few paces away. The magnetic pull of him grows unbearable. “Why do you want to learn to fight so badly?”

  Holding his gaze is even more terrifying than standing up to his council, but I refuse to look away. “I don’t want to be helpless.”

  His amused smirk falls away. His gaze flits across my face—seeing me. Like he can see right through to my crushing helplessness, to that memory of the Prince still plaguing my dreams.

  His thumb brushes my chin. “Alright. But we can’t risk traveling together in the city anymore. If you can manage it on your own, come to Ma’s Kitchen. Two nights from now.”

  I almost stop breathing. Hope rises like butterflies in my chest that spread their little flutters down my body. “I’ll be there.”