Iron Hearted Violet (29 page)

“There are no limits at all. You can’t put a fence around nothing. If your bravery does not exist, then we can’t well limit it, can we?”

“That’s not entirely fair, Auntie,” Demetrius said.

“You don’t know the half of it, boy.” Moth climbed onto my knee and pointed his finger toward my face as though it were a weapon. “We’ve been watching this fool for a while now. Uses stories to puff himself up and stories to smash people down and stories to keep from doing the right thing when the time comes. To say he has the bravery of a flea would be an insult to fleas.”

“Be that as it may, I cannot be asked to fight. I can say that my
story
of this battle will be, most likely, more glorious than the battle itself—”

Auntie kicked my shin in rage as Moth and Nod erupted in a fit of shouting.

Demetrius sighed. “The King made you regent, which means that you are the one to direct the council of war, which means that the fate of the kingdom is in your hands.
Yours
, Cassian. Have you ever told a story that
doesn’t
have
the King riding into battle for the sake of his country? No. You haven’t. For the first time in your life, Cassian, you’ll be doing something that
matters
. And the story you’ll tell about this battle will be
real
.”

“That was a lovely speech, son,” I said loftily. “But you will have to convince the generals by yourself. I shall
not
tell them to make nice with the armies of the Mountain King. And I certainly shall not be the one to inform them that a creature they don’t believe in has warned us of the antics of a creature they’ve never heard of.”

“But the god said—”

“To you. Not to me. I shall remain by the fire. It’s my professional right and responsibility.”

Demetrius shook his head. “Fine,” he said. “Nod? If you wouldn’t mind…”

At that moment I felt something leap onto the back of my shoulder. I felt great locks of my hair being wound around a small arm and a small leg, and I felt something very sharp and very cold against the pulsing vein in my neck. I made a move to swat poor Nod away but was rewarded with a sudden increase in pressure from the blade on my neck and the fists pulling my hair.

“It’s not in my nature to kill people,” Nod whispered in my ear. “Don’t make me do what we’d both regret. Lower your hands, please.”

“Beloved Cassian,” Demetrius said in the formal voice with a low bow, “I’m terribly sorry that it has come to this, I really am. But we must do what must be done. Stand up, Cassian, and call a meeting. You must address the council. The god said that the attack will come at first light, which means that we all must be ready.”

And before I could contradict him—before I could say a blessed thing, Demetrius opened the door, hailing the guards in the corridor. “The regent Cassian, stand-in for the King, wishes to hold a council of war. Immediately. Alert the necessary personnel and see to their arrival.” There was a moment’s hesitation, but only a moment’s. He was so forceful, so
commanding
, that the guards instantly saluted him. (I thought at the time, dears, that it was the influence of the god that did it, that perhaps the
god stuff
still lingered on him after his time below in the heart of the castle. But no. Demetrius had always been like that. I just had been too blind to see it.) Four went hurrying away to gather the necessary people while two more waited at attention to escort me to the parlor-turned-war-room in the eastern wing of the castle.

Demetrius turned to me and grinned. “Come on, then,” he said. I stood, hesitated for a moment, and received a smart kick on my left ankle from Moth.

“Now!” he snapped. “Enough dallying.” To emphasize the point, Nod gave my hair another nasty yank and pressed the blade more firmly against my skin. (To be fair to the dear boy, it was the flat of the blade and not the edge. He also apologized, though quietly, so his uncle would not hear.)

We walked into the hall. Tiny cracks wormed along the walls and spread through the ceilings and the floors. The stones vibrated and pulsed, and the rhythmic beating became louder, faster, more triumphant.

“Oh dear,” Auntie said, looking at the quivering stones. “We’d better hurry, Demetrius. We don’t have much time.”

Captain Marda watched the fire through her spyglass, but it didn’t do much good. It was too bright, too…
strange
. It didn’t spread or flash or roar the way a wildfire is supposed to do. There were no columns, no plumes of ash, no tornadic twists of flame. Indeed, her eyes should have been watering from the smoke. She should have had to tie her kerchief over her face to ease her breathing. But no. The air was clear. The flames bulged and wobbled like a living thing—a many-tentacled monster with a multitude of hard, bright eyes flashing in the dark.

And whatever it was, Marda could see it was growing. New sections were emerging from the woods, emerging from the riverbeds, pouring over the horizon. They were coming from everywhere.

“What
is
that?” she asked, shaking her head.
Nothing good
, she decided.

She closed up the spyglass and slid it into her satchel, pressing her fingers to her mouth.

“Rob!” she called. “Neda! Lilan!” Three messengers came running across the stone battlements, their legs wobbling over the cracks in the rock.

“Send out the high alert. Ring the bells. Notify the other captains, and one of you—Lilan—take this message to the castle: ‘The thing across the field waits and grows. We will send a squadron to meet it before it can reach the city.’ ”

The three messengers bowed shakily, turned on their heels, and ran into the night.

Captain Marda turned toward the shining horizon. “We will not be cowed by the likes of you,” she said out loud. “We will not permit you to touch one stone of the city.”

The golden mass increased its rhythmic writhing across
the field. She held her breath and listened. Was it her imagination, or did the breeze begin to sound like a voice—a collection of voices—whispering
soon, soon, soon
?

Without warning, the wall under the Captain’s feet started to rumble and shake, and the world around her was filled with the sound of the cracking of stones, each one beating like a broken heart.

When Violet woke, she could hardly move. The ground beneath her feet was uncannily warm, as was the breeze blowing into her face. Her right arm hurt to bend, and her eyes were swollen shut.

“What’s happened?” she said to no one in particular, noticing with some distaste that the breeze blowing at her smelled uncannily like sulfur.

I’VE BROUGHT YOU TO MY HEART, CHILD
, the dragon whispered inside her head.
IF YOU TRY ANYTHING STUPID, I WILL RIP YOU TO SHREDS.

“Well, that’s gratitude, isn’t it?” Violet squeezed her eyelids together as tight as she could before forcing them open. Her left eye opened a crack, but her right eye was still glued shut. “That’s the last time I take an arrow for the likes of you.” She tried to laugh but coughed instead, wincing all the while. “Are the arrows still there?” She was afraid to look.

The dragon sighed. It brought its snout close to her body, the heat from its breath running over her skin like water. While it didn’t take the pain away, it did certainly ease it quite a bit.
Did my father know that?
Violet wondered.

YES
, the dragon answered.
YOUR FATHER DID KNOW, THOUGH HE DIDN’T ASK ME ABOUT IT. AND EVEN IF HE HAD, I DOUBT I’D HAVE ANSWERED HIM. I WASN’T UP FOR TALKING MUCH.

“Why?”

WOULD YOU TALK TO YOUR CAPTORS?

Violet tried to sit up, but the pain knocked her flat. “I
would
and I
did
. If I hadn’t, I would still be locked up, and you would be killed, and we would not be having this nice little conversation.” She shook her head. “You know, for a dragon, you are a bit of an idiot.”

YOUR PEOPLE HAVEN’T HAD THE EXPERIENCE OF CAPTIVITY. IF YOU HAD, YOU’D UNDERSTAND.

“Well, my people are about to have all kinds of captivity experience if we don’t kill that… whatever that thing is. A god, I guess. But I thought gods were supposed to be good?”

AND YOU THOUGHT DRAGONS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE BAD
, the dragon whispered icily.
SHOWS WHAT YOU KNOW.

Violet reached down to her leg. Her clothes were torn and wet with blood, but the arrow was gone, which was a relief. The arrow in her chest, however—that was still there. She touched it once with the tip of her finger and shuddered.

I WAS ABLE TO GET THE SECOND ARROW OUT.
The dragon’s whisper in her head became suddenly gentle. Tender.
BUT THE ONE IN YOUR CHEST IS DEEP. YOU’LL BLEED. A LOT. I COULD HELP THE HEALING PROCESS A BIT, BUT I COULDN’T BE SURE IT WOULDN’T KILL YOU. IF I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, I THINK I’D LIKE YOUR PERMISSION.

“Well, that’s terribly polite,” Violet said. With great effort, she lifted herself onto her elbows and forced both eyes open. The arrow was tucked into the far side of her chest, in that little hollow just under her shoulder. She looked away. “In any case, the arrow wound is going to be useful for us.” Violet grunted, then growled with pain as she poured her weight onto her feet and staggered to a stand.

HOW CAN AN ARROW WOUND BE USEFUL?

Violet closed her eyes and let her face spread into a slow smile. “Show me your heart, and I’ll show you.”

To say that the council was unhappy to see me, my dears, would be a bit of an understatement. The members had not forgiven the King for placing me in charge, nor had they forgiven me for accepting. (Not that I had much of a choice—or any, mind you—but that did not remedy their vitriol toward me.)

Moreover, I was calling a meeting in the middle of the night, in the company of a small child. (
And not just a small child
, I could feel them thinking.
The child of the liveryman. A
no one.
A
nothing.) As well as three very
small creatures who I insisted were present with us, but whom none of the council could see.