Valiant (26 page)

I waited for an explanation.

“I had to send for help. I couldn’t clear it alone. You were—”

I’d been grieving the Tailor and sneaking out of Reggen.

The lantern threw bruiselike shadows over Galen’s face. “I still don’t know if I made the right decision, so I’m going to be there when Leymonn’s men arrive.”

I lit my lantern. “Let’s go, then.”

It felt good to have a purpose. Leymonn’s arrival gave us something to talk about. Tomorrow, I’d act as though I’d never thought of kissing Galen Verras. He’d forget how worried he’d been for me. Tomorrow, we’d be as we had before—or at least, we’d pretend we were.

Galen followed the strips of homespun, and I followed him. The way seemed darker just knowing Leymonn would soon be in these caves.

Galen stopped so suddenly I almost walked into his back. “I haven’t seen a strip for a while.”

I squeezed beside him, peering up the path. No homespun.

I swung the lantern to look back the way we had come. Nothing.

“Does anything look familiar?”

I tried to get my bearings. “We should have passed through the second rockfall by now. I should have tied the strips around the stone. And when I slipped on the way down …”

“… it cleared the path.” Galen nodded slowly. “And I just kept walking. I don’t know how long it’s been since I saw a marker.”

I sat and started ripping at the cuffs of my pants. “I’m not moving until we can keep track of where we are.”

“I don’t think this is a dead end. Look.”

I saw the white paint on the stone.

Galen inspected the marking. “Like the ones I follow to go from one room in the castle to another.”

He turned to me. It was almost a conversation, both of us weighing whether we should retrace our path or continue on.

“You should be there when Leymonn sends his men into the caves I’ll be right behind you.”

We stopped every few strides to tie a strip around the stone. Galen grew quiet, his shoulders hunched as he followed the markings.

Then he stopped again, suddenly, and this time, I did bump into him. He reached behind for me, to keep me from falling. “It’s daylight. Look.”

I saw a pale glow ahead.

“It’s near the wall, in the old part of Reggen … I don’t like this.”

“Daylight?” I asked.

“
You
in daylight.” He held the lantern up, studying me. “Pull your hair back.”

“But people will see the birthmark.”

“Your hair looks too much like a girl’s right now. It curled in the water.” He reached toward my face as if he would tuck it back. Just as quickly, he pulled his hand away.

I pretended I didn’t notice, running my fingers through
my hair to smooth it, then tying it at the nape of my neck with a bit of homespun.

“Better?” I asked.

“Yes. Much.” He nodded. “Now flip your collar up. It’ll hide the birthmark.”

I did, then glanced up for approval.

Another nod, and in the morning light, I saw something like sadness in his eyes. No, it was loneliness.

We were both of us alone again.

I pushed past Galen and ran into the daylight.

T
he moment I
reached the street, I felt as if no disguise was good enough. I slid to a stop and waited for Galen to join me.

“Let’s go.”

We hurried up one street and then another. Galen led us within a street of the Tailor’s shop. The road was clogged with people. Had something happened to the shop? I hopped up on a crate to get a better look.

A crowd was gathered around the narrow little door. It looked as though they’d been there all night waiting for help that would not come.

Galen motioned to me. “Come on, Saville. We need to hurry.”

I hopped down and landed wrong, sending the crate clattering away. We traveled two paces before the first shout. “The tailor! He’s come.”

Galen’s hand caught my back and propelled me forward. “Move, Saville!”

The crowd followed us, and the shouting grew closer. Galen pushed me behind him and turned to face them, hands raised. “I am not the tailor! It isn’t me!”

I ducked my head and scurried away while he drew their attention.

“He’s too dark to be the tailor.”

“Too old! The tailor was just a lad!”

Then someone grabbed my arm. “Tailor? Is it you?” It was a scared, skinny man. I tried to pull free, but he held tight and shouted, “I see it! Fate’s Kiss!” He tried to touch the birthmark, as if it would bring him good fortune.

I wrenched away, but he kept hold of my shirt. I felt my sleeve tear.

“It’s the champion! Behind the other one.”

Hands grasped at me from all sides, the crowd separating me from Galen.

“Please, lad, tell us your plan for routing the giants. Let us help you.”

“You have to save us from the deathless duke.”

“My little ones, they’re too young to be eaten by giants.”

It was like drowning, the crowd pressing closer and closer, reaching for me. I didn’t speak, afraid my voice would give me away.

“Say something, lad!”

I tried to squirm away, but they took hold of my clothing, anything to keep me with them. I heard another rip, and then another.

“I’ve a bit of his shirt!” cried a woman, waving it like a flag. “It’ll protect me from the giants!”

Another rip, and I felt the morning breeze on my shoulder.
“I’ll hold it while I pray for you, lad!”

Where was Galen?

And then I was drowning, the current pulling me under, beating me against buildings, and all the while I kept my arms wrapped around my middle and told myself not to scream, not to speak. It would be over soon.

It was—in a heartbeat, in a breath.

The people who had pressed against me stepped back, eyes wide, mouths slack. My shirt was torn to tatters, strips of it hanging from my waist. My still-wet trousers clung to me, revealing hips more rounded than the softest lad could boast. The binding around my chest remained, still looped over one shoulder, but with no shirt to cover it.… I wrapped my arms more tightly around myself.

“A
girl
?” a voice cried, and the word echoed back through the crowd. Shock changed to anger. Hands clenched. Eyes narrowed.

“Please,” I shouted. “I didn’t mean to—”

My words were lost in the howls of outrage. One face stood out: a woman, her eyes wide with fear as she realized that there was no one to save her and her babies. She shook her head, then turned away.

Fists and stones rained down on me. I put my hands over my head to protect myself, but it did little good. The world had grown so loud I couldn’t make out individual sounds.
Just don’t fall down
, I thought.
Don’t fall. They can kick you if you fall
.

Finally, one sound—my name—rose over the crowd. I saw Galen, sitting above everyone else. He sat on a horse that he must have plundered from a cart. And he was reaching toward me.

“Saville!”

I tensed my body, and the moment I felt a give in the press around me, I lunged. He caught my arm, tugging me up, and swinging me in front of him.

He shouted something as we pushed through the crowd. But hands still caught at us, and something rough struck the side of my head. The horse began to move faster, yet I couldn’t hear the sound of its hoofbeats, and the shouts grew faint.

Galen leaned over me, as if I wasn’t giving him enough room. I didn’t mind. It felt good to lie over the horse. I’d have slept right there if it weren’t for the rocks hitting my shoulders and arms.

“Saville!” Galen’s arm looped around my waist. I felt the dampness of his shirt against my back. “Sit up! I can’t protect you if you don’t sit up.”

Then there wasn’t anything striking me because he was there. I wondered if the stones were hitting him. The horse moved into a canter, its hooves ringing against the cobblestones. My head hurt, hurt, hurt, but I made myself sit up. Galen’s arm tightened around my waist. I was sure, somehow, that he was the only thing holding me together.

He was angry. I heard him curse as we tore toward the
castle, and I felt the roughness of his cheek against the side of my head that didn’t ache.

Then a shadow fell over us.

“Close the gates!” he shouted. “Close the gates!”

I knew when he slid off the horse—I felt the wind across my shoulders and back.

“Come on, Saville.” He helped me down, keeping an arm around my waist as he walked me toward the small, dark door, just as he had the first day he’d brought me to the palace.

“They know,” I whispered. “They know that I’m the champion. The whole city knows.”

“Yes. They do.”

“I’m sorry,” I said as he led me into his room, but he didn’t hear. He was shouting down the hall about a doctor. He sat me in my favorite chair, the one with the patchwork, and knelt in front of me.

I shivered all over, even though I wasn’t cold.

He shook me very gently. “Saville, look at me.”

I did, but he didn’t notice; he was checking me, my arms especially. They were covered in scratches, and bruises were beginning to darken my skin, even though I couldn’t yet feel them.

I couldn’t feel anything. But I could tell Galen was scared, though we’d left the crowd far behind.

“Don’t worry.” The words were so hard to find. “We’re safe now, both of us. Why are you worried?”

He looked at me and whispered, “You silly, silly girl.” And
then he turned my chin and looked at the right side of my head, the side that hurt.

“Sky above.” He shook his sleeve down over his hand, then began to wipe at my neck and cheek. His sleeve came back scarlet. He dabbed at it again, then gently pushed my hair back so he could see the cut better.

I bit my lip, though I was grateful for the pain. The room was sharper now, more focused. I looked down at my hands in my lap. My shirt had been completely torn away, but the lower half of one sleeve remained, gathered around my wrist.

“The cut’s bleeding too much for me to see,” said Galen.

I pulled the cuff off and handed it to him.

“That will help.” He pressed it against the side of my head, wincing when I flinched. “The doctors will be here soon.”

“I can’t stop shaking. Why can’t I stop shaking?”

“It will pass.”

“Good.” The word chattered out. My body didn’t seem to belong to me. “I hate this.”

“So do I.”

I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands. The face of that one woman swam before me—the one who had been so scared, so disappointed. I felt her gaze on me, even in that room.

And I couldn’t stop shaking.

“Here.” Galen moved my hand to cover the cloth. “Hold this.”

I heard him go to the door and speak to someone. He
returned and stood over me. Nothing happened.

Something featherlight and warm touched my shoulder, then the base of my neck: his fingertips. I looked up at him.

“You have bruises there, too,” he said, his mouth set.

“I don’t feel them.”

He nodded, then dropped something warm across my shoulders. “It’s a guard’s coat.”

“I’m not cold,” I said, but I settled back into it.

He knelt in front of me again and pulled the coat tight under my chin. “I don’t care.”

The door swung open. A doctor walked straight to me and lifted the scrap of shirt I held to my head.

He kept his eyes on me, but spoke to Galen. “Leymonn demands your presence, Lord Verras. The city …” He shook his head. “You can hear the mob from the courtyard.”

“You’ll see to her?”

“Of course. I’ll report to you as soon as I’ve examined her.”

Galen stood by the door, still wet from the Kriva, one cuff red with my blood. But he didn’t leave. He just looked at me, and I was too tired to do anything but look back.

I didn’t feel the cold until after he’d left.

T
he physician’s draught
made sleep easy, but it couldn’t stop the dreams: the scouts’ heads in the duke’s wagon, blinking their sightless eyes … the shouts of a mob that never appeared … Volar’s low voice threading the chaos … Galen whispering,
Silly girl, silly girl
.

I woke, scared of the foreign room’s darkness. I’d been moved. A physician bent over me. “Look at me, Saville. Follow the candle’s light.”

I tried, but, oh, how my head hurt! The pain had only been biding its time.

“Your head?”

“Everything.” I stretched my legs beneath the blankets. “No. My legs don’t hurt.”

“Good.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Barely noon. Go back to sleep.”

I tried, but the dreams were too close. I smelled blood when I saw the giants’ heads. I felt stones when I heard the mob.

Another memory surfaced: Galen’s arm around my waist, the barrage of stones stopping when he pulled me against him.

Tomorrow, I would be embarrassed that he’d held me so close, that I’d worn only my binding, that I’d felt his warmth against my skin. I would be embarrassed tomorrow, but not now. I slipped beneath the memories like a cloak against the cold. I fell asleep remembering the roughness of his cheek against mine.