And Wrena listened. To everything. Growing up in Inkwell without a pot to piss in. The warmth the memories of that childhood brought me even when our hearth was cold. Running against the wind on the waterfront next to Larka as my father watched us, his hands shaking as he sat smiling in the grass watching his daughters without a care in the world. I left out the soothsayer, still feeling the guilt of my sister’s death, the prickly edges working their way into my mind regardless. I told her about watching the flame go out in Larka’s eyes. Seeing my father deteriorate, unable to function on his own. Feeling the relationship I had with my mother beginning to crack and leaning on Solise. The kind healer’s words as she explained what had happened to my father. The questions that had never been answered.
I told her of the other half of my heart and the day he was buried. I told her about how stupid and brash I had been, but how it led Lord Castemont to us. How I rejected the idea of my mother marrying him. I told her about rescinding that rejection when I realized that I was depriving my mother of happiness simply because my own happiness had died. I told her how Castemont truly loved me, and though he would never be my father, he tried his hardest to fill the role.
Wrena listened to every detail, from the times I had the eerie feeling I was being watched to the worry I felt the night before Cindregala. I told her about the disaster that was tonight and how I had genuinely feared for my life. That I still did. That my lack of a royal upbringing and a proper education were going to damn me. That it was one of my last nights alive.
By the time my mouth was dry and my words ran out, she and I had both reclined back on the bed, staring at the painted ceiling. “Wow,” she whispered.
And…I laughed. A deep, cackling laugh. Wrena was startled beside me, propping herself up on an elbow as I rolled on the other side of the bed, tears streaming from my eyes. “You know what?” I said, finally catching my breath. “‘Wow’ is right.” I burst into laughter again, and Wrena joined in. And for a moment, we were just two girls side by side, laughing at absolutely nothing and everything, and I was back in Inkwell with Larka.
???
Midnight came and went but still Wrena stayed. “I haven’t visited Inkwell,” Wrena said. “But I assume it’s very similar to the place where I grew up.” We had moved to sit across from each other on the bed, our legs folded beneath us. Crumbs fell to the sheets like stars on a white sky as we picked at the biscuits.
“Tell me,” I urged. “I can be a friend, too.”
She sighed, her eyes going a bit cloudy, contemplative. “I think it’s about as far from Eserene as you can get in Widoras. Across the Onyxian Mountains, the northwestern part of the country. There’s a forest so vast that you could walk for three days and still not find the end of it, so thick that the sun is blotted out in parts. Falsend Forest. There are clearings that make it appear you’ve made it through only to be thrust back into the wood again, lost and disoriented. But if you know where to turn, if you follow the right trails, you'll find Maplenook.” She smiled the most heartbreakingly beautiful smile I had ever seen. “It was small and poor, and...” The smile slowly faded. I stayed quiet, watching her face as memories danced through her mind. “We had nothing. Nobody really had anything, and traders and merchants visited only once or twice a year. Almost everything we had we made or found or hunted. But the men knew how to brew, so there was always ale, always wine, and always people who were kinder than they were rich. We had what we needed — one little pub, a butcher, and a brothel, of course.” We both laughed.
“That does sound like Inkwell,” I said as our laughter died down. She stayed silent, still staring into the distance, remembering. “What happened?”
She knew the question was coming. I could tell by the way she nodded, slowly, considerately. She took another biscuit, breaking it in two and popping one piece in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing hard. “Kauvras.”
“Kauvras?”
“He destroyed everything, and what he didn’t destroy, he took. Well, technically it wasn’t him, but his henchmen. The people marched single file out of Maplenook. I watched my parents leave.” Her voice was disconcertingly even.
Confusion washed over my face. “I don’t understand. Why?” Confusion now washed over Wrena’s face.
“You don’t know who Kauvras is?” she asked. Her surprise made me cower a bit. Should I know who Kauvras is? I shook my head. She giggled —giggledslightly as she shook her head. “People always say Eserene is cut off from the rest of the world, but this is a bit mad.” It was true — the walls contained us and kept us safe, but the walls also kept the world out. I knew nothing about the world beyond Eserene aside from the Onyx Pass and the names of a few cities, usually the ones with the rumored handsome princes thanks to Larka. I had my Inkwellian upbringing and lack of education to thank for my minimal knowledge of the outside world.
“Kauvras is the estranged younger brother of former King Umfray. Kauvras was always…strange.” I never even knew Umfray had a brother. “Kauvras started a cult of rebels in Cabillia about twenty-five years ago. Supposedly, it had nothing to do with his brother. It was under the guise that he was upset about the increased trade the Cabillian King had arranged with countries across the sea, most notably Nesan, which they had been at war with over territory a hundred years ago. Some people just couldn’t seem to bury the hatchet. The trade raised prices and raised taxes, which benefitted Nesan. He began preaching in the alleys and on the corners of Taitha, the capital of Cabillia, that the king was bedding the Nesanian Queen; that the man was weak for letting a woman pull the strings. No one knows if that was true, and to this day Nesanian citizens deny it.
“I’ve heard rumors that Kauvras’ real issue with Nesan started because the love of his life was taken from him by a Nesanian Prince. I don’t know much about that. But the seeds of discontent had been sown long before Kauvras began his conquest. Some say it never quite settled after the War of Kings. Cabillia had been on the brink of collapse for a long, long time. It just needed a push.”
“And that was Kauvras,” I said, my eyes widening at the fact I had never heard of this, at the fact that this was happening.
“That was Kauvras. His following grew quickly. Like wildfire. And before anyone knew it, he had overthrown the Cabillian King and took the throne for himself, setting King Divos ablaze and hanging his body from the gates of the castle.” She placed the second half of her biscuit in her mouth, pausing to chew as if she hadn’t just described a horrific scene. I cringed a little at the mention of flames, but quickly righted my mind. “You really don’t know any of this?”
I shook my head. “None of it.”
“Blood Saints. Well, under the rule of Kauvras, relations with Nesan fell apart. They pulled their trade agreement, and since the countries of Losina are allied against Astran, they all pulled their trade agreements too. The people then grew frustrated at the increased demand upon their own shoulders, having grown used to the imported luxuries from the countries across the sea.” Losina. I had never heard of Losina. I made a mental note to remember the names she was throwing out, trying to keep track of them all. “The people turned on Kauvras, and the grumblings turned to riots in the streets. They were demanding his abdication.”
“But he didn’t abdicate, did he?”
“You’re catching on.” A small smile. “A group of Kauvras’ rivals met one night in a field of dead wildflowers near just outside of Taitha to discuss their next move in pushing Kauvras out.”A field of flowers...my heart thudded so hard against my ribs I thought they might crack, Ingra’s words whispering in my mind. “Kauvras had guards on constant patrol of the city, so when one came upon this secretive meeting, the Blood Saints unleashed hell. The rival group charged at the guard, prepared to kill with their rusty daggers and swords. But the guard knew that even with his training, his chances of coming out victorious against a group of fifteen men were slim, so at the last moment, he threw his torch down. The dried wildflowers caught fire, and the smoke was as purple as the flowers.”
A field of violet wildflowers.I was frozen as I listened to her words. I didn’t want to believe what I was hearing. “The fire didn’t spread the way he had intended, but the men stopped dead in their tracks as the guard stepped further away. As the dried wildflowers caught flame and smoke hit the men’s’ nostrils, their eyes went dim. He watched as the men dropped their weapons, swaying slightly, their pupils dilating. And within ten seconds, they were on their knees, screaming and tearing the hair from their heads. Then they turned to each other, screaming like wild animals, clawing and ripping at each others’ skin until blood stained the ground. Throats torn from necks, hearts from chests, arms and legs from sockets. The guard stared in disbelief as the fifteen men completely destroyed each other; left nothing but a heap of steaming gore.” I felt nauseous, but Wrena’s voice didn’t waver even once. “The guard rushed back to Kauvras to tell him what happened, to tell him the horror he had witnessed. Kauvras didn’t think it was horrific, though. Kauvras saw an opportunity.” She paused, looking toward the window. “It’s late now, Petra, and you have quite a day tomorrow.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” I said, straight-faced. “I am hearing this for the first time, and I’d like to hear all of it, please and thank you.” She let out a laugh, but my stare was intent on her. I pushed the soothsayer’s words from my head, needing to hear the full story before letting my mind panic.
“Whatever you say, my Lady,” she said, bowing her head. “Kauvras instructed his guards to round up the poor, the homeless, the inept and bring them to the castle. Bundles of the dried wildflowers from the field were gathered, and the subjects were locked in rooms with flaming flowers.” Every muscle in my body went taut. “Kauvras just watched. He wanted to see what would happen, what this smoke would make them do. He observed that a single inhalation of the smoke created the most euphoric high followed by rage. He was smart and knew to always take measures to protect himself and his guards from inhaling it. It was highly addictive, but the high was short. When they were denied their fix, their eyes would bleed, their skin would peel, and they would eventually tear at their flesh and bones until they died by their own hand.”
Bleeding eyes. I was going to be sick. “Leechthorn?” I whispered, remembering Tyrak’s sudden interruption at dinner almost two weeks ago. My mind whirled in circles, connecting the dots between the words of Wrena and the soothsayer.
Wrena nodded her head in approval. If she noticed the distress on my face, she didn’t show it. “Leechthorn, yes. So you knowsomethings. After watching dozens of mothers rip their own children to shreds and young men claw the throats from their fathers, Kauvras realized that unlike other drugs, people were getting stronger the longer they went without leechthorn. The initial high only lasts for a few seconds, but then they explode with rage. Once they calm down, they’re relatively docile until the craving starts to build again. But…he found that the mere promise of another fix was enough to control the poor souls who relied on it, that they would follow his every order for the guarantee of a single hit.
“He visited the sage in Taitha to explore his new discovery further. The old man only knew leechthorn had been ground up and used as a salve. He didn’t know of any other uses, no matter how much Kauvras questioned him. Kauvras didn’t like that answer, so he bashed his head in.”
My mind was spiraling. Ingra’s words pounded against the inside of my skull. My breathing was ragged as I tried to digest her words, but Wrena was lost in the story, her own memories haunting her face.