The Deceiver's Heart Page 14

  I sank against the floor of the wagon, crying bitterly for him and his mother, for Gabe who was still lying unconscious beside me, and even for myself because maybe I really was as selfish as everyone believed the Dallisors to be. Wherever they were taking me, I was terrified.

  Gabe grunted and his hand near me twitched a little, but he didn’t wake up. I had sacrificed myself, hoping to save him. How foolish that had been, to think they’d ever leave him behind. As cruelly as they’d treated him before, I could only imagine what they’d do now.

  And what they’d do to me. I’d heard Endrick’s order repeated in my head and refused it. There would be consequences for that. My heart was already feeling a squeeze on it, as if the only reason Endrick was keeping me alive was because something more terrible than death still awaited me.

  When I’d cried out my tears, I crouched beside Gabe and with my hands still tightly bound, I leaned over him. “Gabe? You need to wake up.”

  He stirred and groaned, but nothing more.

  “Gabe!” I gently tapped at one side of his face, the half that wasn’t swollen from where an Ironheart foot must have crashed into him. “Please wake up!”

  After I’d prodded him enough, finally he moaned, “Stop that, I’m awake.” His eyes fluttered open and then widened when he recognized me. “Kestra, you can’t be here! How did they find you?”

  “I surrendered.”

  He scowled as his mouth tightened. “How could you be so foolish?”

  “I did it to save your life! You’d be dead otherwise.”

  “If I’m here, I’m a dead man anyway. Where’s Simon?”

  “Still at Rutherhouse.”

  Gabe closed his eyes a moment, then spoke more gently. “Does he know what happened there?”

  I sat back, sorrow consuming me again. “He knows. He was hiding me out back.”

  After he’d absorbed that, Gabe mumbled, “You should’ve stayed with him.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

  Gabe looked at me, confused, but when I offered no explanation, he said, “Wherever they’re taking us, when we get there, someone important will meet us, someone with authority to make real decisions. They’ll try to find out everything you’ve learned about the Coracks—”

  “Which is very little.”

  “—but that will only be a test to see if you’re cooperating. Part of that test will be making you watch whatever they do to me, and it’ll be awful.”

  “No!”

  Gabe leaned up on one elbow, then grunted and lay back down again. “Listen, if they think your false memories are still intact, then you have a chance to live. So you’ll stand there like a Dallisor and watch it and not flinch in the slightest, because you have to pass their tests or you’ll be next.”

  I lowered my eyes. “I’ve already failed. I will be next.”

  His face pinched while he tried to shift positions. “What was the test?”

  “That doesn’t matter either. But before it happens, I want to try bargaining for you. I can agree to talk to them if they’ll let you go.”

  He scoffed. “The Dallisors don’t bargain, they take. Nothing you say will change that. Convince them that you tried to do what they wanted, but we got in your way. The Dominion wants you alive, Kestra. Give them every reason to keep you alive.”

  “I don’t know those reasons!”

  “If you say that, they’ll send you back to Lord Endrick and he’ll take more than your memories. He will take from you everything but a heartbeat, keeping you just alive enough that another Infidante can never take your place, but ridding you of any chance for a life. It will be worse than death.”

  My hands began to shake but I folded them together, hoping to control my rising panic. “I won’t know what to say, and if I do, I won’t say it convincingly enough. I can’t do this.”

  Gabe closed his eyes again, for long enough that I thought he’d fallen unconscious. I reached out to prod him awake, but he opened his eyes on his own and said, “There’s one other option, and it’s very risky. In my vest pocket are the dried leaves of a turilla plant.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Never heard of it.”

  “I’ve studied a lot about plants—how do you think I knew what to do after you poisoned Simon? And turilla is quite rare. You can’t even find it in Antora. I had to go to Brill for this. Chewing on too much can be toxic, but the right dosage will only make it appear to be so.”

  I tilted my head. “So the leaf almost kills you?”

  “That’s the idea. It will slow the heartbeat to almost nothing and your body will live off borrowed air until the effects pass, which they do in about fifteen minutes. I experimented for weeks to find the exact amount for my size. I miscalculated a couple of times and Loelle had to bring me back from the brink.” He smiled darkly, and when I frowned back, he continued, “The point is that when this wagon stops, we might have a chance if the Ironhearts believe we’re dead.”

  “What if they bury us as soon as we’re found?” My head tilted. “Or if we only have fifteen minutes, they may still be near us when we recover.”

  “Like I said, there are risks.”

  “If it doesn’t work, we’re right back where we started. We need a different plan.”

  Gabe sighed. “Well, I’m sorry that I don’t have a long list for you to choose from. There’s plan A, in which I’m tortured to death and you end up as a pair of vacant eyes inside a body that Lord Endrick will never allow to die. Or plan B, which gives us a slight chance of escaping plan A.”

  “Slight?”

  “Unless you have a better idea.” Gabe nudged his chin toward his vest. “Can you reach into the pocket there? You’ll need about half a leaf, I need almost a full one.”

  “About? If this could kill me, I’d think you’d be more exact.”

  He glared at me. “Lord Endrick will do worse than that if you don’t take this leaf. Is that exact enough for you?”

  I found the leaves in his vest and put one in his hands, which he broke to his desired length with his forefinger and thumb. “We’ll take them when we see the first signs of a Dominion camp. It’s late. I doubt we’re traveling far.”

  I held the leaf in my fingers while we continued to ride, my finger mindlessly stroking the crisp edges. At least an hour passed, and the entire time, I mostly thought of Simon and wondered what he was doing now. I supposed he was tending to his mother’s body, perhaps digging a grave for her in the same yard where he had kept me from saving her.

  Though I never could’ve saved her. Therein was the tragedy.

  I dreaded what lay ahead for Gabe and me, but I figured it wasn’t half of what Simon must be going through right now.

  Gabe repeated the plan to me when we first spotted the lights of the Dominion camp. I listened and nodded, and when he put the leaf in his mouth, I pretended to do the same. I waited until he had passed out and then tossed my leaf through the bars of the wagon.

  I had told Simon that I could not fulfill my role as Infidante, but that had changed now.

  Because I had a plan C. In which my first job was to convince them that Gabe was dead, then to distract them enough to give him time to get away after he woke up. And then to do whatever was necessary to get myself an audience with Lord Endrick. If he had taken my memories, then it was true he could destroy whatever was left of me. But he was also the only one who could return them. I didn’t have much to bargain with in order to make him cooperate, but if I was the Infidante, then at some point, I must have had the Olden Blade.

  In exchange for my memories, I would offer him the Olden Blade. He would surely agree to that. Then, once he returned them, I would find the Olden Blade again and use it to kill him. I had no memory of using a weapon before, but I’d obviously done so, and I hoped my muscles would remember what my mind could not.

  The odds of that were probably remote. Maybe there was no chance at all, but if I truly was the Infidante, I had to at least try my hand against Lord Endric
k, and perhaps save my life—and Antora—in the process.

  At least, I hoped that would be true as the wagon began to slow. Orders and the announcement that I was with them were shouted out.

  The most terrifying game of my life was about to begin.

  In the earth softened by recent rains, it didn’t take nearly as long as I’d expected to dig the grave for Tillie. Back when Rutherhouse had been an inn, her guests had all called her Tillie, so I had too. It was hard to think of her now as my mother.

  Most of my memories of her were from my youngest years, when she used to sing for me at night, and fill my day with exciting stories as I worked beside her and my younger sister on our small farm. When that wasn’t enough, the responsibility of providing for my family fell to me. I went to Woodcourt to work as a servant and still remembered the way she cried when I left. I’d felt mature then, but looking back, I was far too young. After Woodcourt, I was taken in by Gareth, who raised me until his death. I visited Tillie as often as I could, bringing money that I earned working for Gareth. I’d always loved her, but she hadn’t felt like a mother to me for years.

  I’d just buried my mother.

  As I worked, I recited to myself every cliché that might lessen the pain, but none of it helped. It didn’t matter that Tillie had offered up her life rather than sacrifice Kestra’s. It didn’t matter that Kestra had tried to break free in an effort to save her, or that I had refused to let her go. None of it mattered, because none of it outweighed the guilt I felt for having brought Kestra here in the first place.

  How did they know?

  My fingers clenched into fists. Maybe it was the same way the Halderians knew Kestra was in the Lonetree Camp.

  When Trina had passed us on the trail, she had said she knew where I was going. I’d probably mentioned Rutherhouse before, in a time when I had no reason to mistrust her. But although it was easy to believe she might have contacted the Halderians, it was harder to believe she would betray us to the Dominion.

  I was kneeling beside the grave when I heard horses approach. It was the middle of the night by now. Was it the Dominion, returning for me?

  I swung the shovel over my shoulder, and by now, my sword was in its proper place at my side. If it was the Dominion, I intended to take down every last one of them.

  My first peek around the front of the house was little help. I saw several horses, but a few riders held torches, which made it impossible to see their faces. Maybe that made it easier to attack.

  I charged around to the front with the shovel ready to swing, but stopped when I heard Tenger shout, “Simon, no!”

  I immediately lowered the shovel, and those with the torches lowered them too, illuminating their faces. Tenger was at the front of a dozen Coracks, with Basil at his side. Trina was on the other side of him, and the girl from Brill, Wynnow, whom I still didn’t know very well, beside her. Loelle was with them too, and the others were fighters whose faces I recognized, but whose names I didn’t know.

  Basil leaned forward in his saddle. “Where’s Kestra?”

  My eyes darted to Trina, hoping to see a reaction from her. “The Dominion took her—and Gabe.”

  Trina did react, though it wasn’t what I’d expected. Her eyes registered what seemed like genuine alarm. Then again, maybe she hadn’t intended for Gabe to be caught in their snares too.

  Tenger cursed. “We’ve been monitoring Dominion activity and we saw a prison wagon pass by five miles back.”

  “They were in it.”

  “Are you fit to ride?” Trina asked. “You don’t look well, Simon.”

  It took me a minute to answer. I could ride, I just didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to keep pushing for a happy ending that would clearly never happen. But maybe at least I could find an ending I could live with. Which wasn’t Kestra and Gabe being tortured in a Dominion camp.

  I dropped the shovel. “My satchel is inside. I’ll go get it.”

  I walked back indoors, but froze in the entrance, wondering if this was the last time I’d ever see this place. I should have come here more often. I should have returned here after Woodcourt rather than living with Gareth. While it was true that the money I made sustained my mother and my sister for all those years, what did that matter now? Tenger wanted me to be king of the Halderians. I couldn’t even be a son to my mother.

  I left a note for my sister, hoping I would find her first to explain in person, then wrapped up what remained of the bread my mother had baked earlier that day, and gathered a few mementos of her, then left my family’s home. I had very few memories of my own here.

  But at least I had memories.

  I imagined how Kestra must be feeling now, being led into a camp where she’d be questioned about what had happened to her over the past several days. They’d figure out that she was not the same girl who Lord Endrick had emptied of her memories. She was in terrible trouble, and I’d been a selfish fool to forget that.

  Someone had saddled my horse while I was inside, and I mumbled a general thank-you in the direction of the Coracks, though I didn’t care who had done it. I swung into the saddle and felt Tenger’s eyes on me.

  “You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  “Positive.”

  “What were you doing with a shovel in the middle of the night?”

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. “We’re wasting time, Captain.”

  He clicked his tongue, mumbled something about how we’d discuss this later—I’d make sure we didn’t—and rode off. I followed, realizing only after several minutes that Trina and Wynnow were on either side of me.

  “That’s your mother’s house,” Trina said.

  I glanced over at her. She had confirmed my suspicions that at least she knew about Rutherhouse.

  Something sharp must have been in my look, because she drew back, then asked, “What happened there? When the Dominion came … the shovel—” She drew in a breath. “Oh, Simon, I’m terribly sorry.”

  Sorry for sending them there? I wanted to ask, but instead I tightened the grip on my reins.

  “I don’t wish to be insensitive,” Wynnow said, “but surely you can see now why Kestra must go to the Blue Caves. She will need her memories back to have any chance of succeeding against such evil as this.”

  “Her memories are returning!”

  “It’s not just the memories,” Trina said. “We can’t have an Ironheart for an Infidante. And she needs magic to compete with Endrick on his own terms.”

  I eyed Trina. “What if the chosen Infidante wasn’t Endrean and could not acquire magic? What if she were only Halderian, like you? Would you be useless too?”

  Trina cocked her head. “Maybe that’s why the Blade chose Kestra and not me. Wynnow is correct. Kestra needs to go to the caves.”

  “No!” I wasn’t negotiating this with them.

  “That’s not your decision to make!” Trina said.

  “Nor is it yours. If Kestra possesses magic, it will change who she is.”

  “If she doesn’t go to the caves, she will remain useless as an Infidante. And it doesn’t matter anyway: You don’t get to decide who she is.”

  Her words hit me harder than I let on, particularly on this horrible, unending night. As much as I wanted to defend myself, that I was only trying to help Kestra, maybe it was true, that I was forcing her in the direction I wanted. Never once had I asked her what she wanted.

  I fell behind the group, absorbed in my thoughts, in my grief, my selfishness. I was completely empty of anything else. Trina rode up to Tenger, probably to give him a report on what I’d said. Since they were left to ride beside each other, Basil struck up a conversation with Wynnow. If Kestra had broken off their wedding, maybe he was already seeking a new bride to bring back to Reddengrad.

  I became increasingly tired as we traveled, though my exhaustion was immediately forgotten the instant the Dominion camp came into view. This was a temporary camp in a valley east of the Drybelt,
beneath scattered homes on the surrounding hillside that had probably been evacuated the moment the first black-and-green flag flew. Its position made it easy to evaluate but hard to attack, especially with our few numbers.

  We rode to a home high on the ridge with a decent vantage point and were hardly surprised to find it hastily abandoned. A half-eaten supper was laid out on the table, which a few of our group gulped down while I sulked in a corner.

  “The Brillians have some supplies that might be useful here,” Wynnow said. “Glues, toxins, explosives—”

  “Explosives, that’s what I want.” Until then, Tenger had been assessing the layout of the camp, debating with Trina and Basil the best way to carry out a rescue. Now Wynnow had his full attention.

  She nodded, then joined him at the window, peering through the streaked glass. With the Brillians’ exceptional eyesight, she was able to locate the prison wagon.

  “It’s empty,” she said, “but if we assume they drove the wagon close to where they intended to question Gabe and Kestra, then three tents nearby could be reasonable choices.”

  “Is anyone going or coming from any tents?” Tenger asked. “Any of them with guards standing at the entryways?”

  Wynnow looked again. “No to the first question, but I do see one tent that is well guarded.”

  “They could be in there,” Tenger concluded. “Our priority must be in rescuing Kestra, though if we can get Gabe too, then obviously, we should.”

  “The priority must be Kestra’s necklace,” Loelle said. “Whatever its purpose, we cannot risk the Dominion getting that back.”

  “Agreed.” Tenger turned to me. “I’m putting you in charge of Kestra’s rescue. Of anyone here, I know you’ll work the hardest for her. Even after—” His tone softened. “Even after what happened. Trina told me.”

  “Trina talks to a lot of people,” I muttered, then made myself stand. “Let’s go.”

  Tenger would lead Trina and most of our group to the far perimeter of the camp to set off some explosions and draw the Ironhearts to them. A bulky Corack named Hugh would be with us, though his primary goal would be finding Gabe. Hugh only needed a single punch to knock most of his opponents unconscious, so we called him Huge. Wynnow and I were going after Kestra.