Page 58 of A Crown of Darkness

‘This is most irregular,’ said the Chancellor. Shadows ringed his eyes and he had the haunted look of a witchkind whose magic was close to depleted.

‘I know,’ Roland replied cautiously. ‘We have so much to untangle here, your people as well as mine. You and I must talk. There is a conspiracy which goes beyond the College and beyond Asteroth. Wren will do no harm here. Neither will Finn. They have just escaped the darkness at great risk to themselves.’

He nodded to them and Wren, fuelled by instinct, sank into a curtsy. Finn didn’t move, not to bow, not to do anything. For a moment she had thought he had come back but now he was like iron again. Perhaps he sensed a threat. Perhaps he was just…gone…

‘Chancellor,’ she said, turning what she hoped was a pleading look on him. ‘You must have a healer here skilled in magical ailments…please, we have need of your help.’

Vambray studied her face for a moment and then glanced at Roland, the obvious connection only now striking him. They must have heard the news…or rather the gossip…

‘Your royal highness,’ he said in a gentler, more formal tone. ‘We will do what we can. Vivienne is our finest. She will attend you shortly once she has attended those who…’ Awkwardness stole whatever he had been about to say but Wren knew anyway. Those who had been trying to stop her arrival, those she had already hurt just by coming here. The shard of guilt wedged in her chest cracked it open another notch. ‘Rooms will be made ready. Please, accept our hospitality. Grandmaster, you are right. You and I have much to discuss.’

‘Roland.’ Finn held out the crown. ‘You need to guard this. It’s the crown of Sidon. The ancient crown of the Nox. Leander wants it more than anything, apart from the princess. We need to keep them both safe.’

Safe for what, Wren worried, but couldn’t say a word as Roland took it from Finn, studied it with some evident distaste, and then left.

Only when it was out of her sight did she feel able to draw breath again.

It wasn’t much of a room, not compared to the palatial chambers of Pelias and Sidonia. But it wasn’t a prison cell either and for that Wren was grateful.

The healer, Vivienne, had listened to their story before she ordered Finn out of his armour and examined him carefully, everything from peering into his eyes, to listening to his heartbeat and testing his reflexes. She conjured up a spell which seemed to rely more on scent than anything else, and as she pressed her fingertips to his forehead, the aroma of lavender surrounded them. But in the end she just frowned at him, and then at Wren.

‘He’s full of shadows,’ she said. ‘As if he has been taken by shadow kin and remade, but not in their image. He hasn’t physically changed otherwise?’

‘Only his eyes,’ Wren replied, unable to stop looking at him, waiting for something terrible to happen.

‘His eyes,’ the healer murmured thoughtfully, staring into them as if looking for answers.

‘But he sounded like himself for a moment back in the courtyard. When Anselm talked to him. As if he remembered. And when he gave Roland the crown.’

‘Maybe that’s the key then, his memories? Our emotions are intricately tied up with them. And your Grandmaster is correct; rest would do wonders for both of you. I’ll have hot water sent up. Bathe, rest and talk to him. Maybe you can reach him. If not, we will have Anselm try again. But I think…’ She gave a brief smile. ‘I think you would have more luck. Those we love, those for whom we would give everything, they are the ones who can reach us when we are lost.’

‘It’s my fault he’s like this,’ Wren told her.

But to her surprise Vivienne shook her head. ‘He brought this on himself. One can only be this consumed by the Nox if one allows it in. It is squatting in him, using him, and I think it is doing so as a means to protect you, which is the greatest wish of anyone who truly loves another. He agreed to this, that’s the problem. You need to remind him that you are safe now, and that he can let go. Show him that. You have more magic in one finger than I have ever had, my lady.’

Wren felt her face heat. ‘But no training.’

‘No one has training for something like this. Now, I must see to the boy who came with you. He’s in a state of shock. What happened to him?’

Wren told her, as briefly and clearly as she could, and the poor woman’s face paled with horror and compassion.

‘I couldn’t leave him there,’ Wren said.

‘To be used in such a way again?’ The anger simmering in Vivienne’s eyes was just as plain. ‘No, you did the right thing. Don’t worry. I’ll look after him now. If you will excuse me?’

She left them alone. Servants bustled in and out for a little while, bringing a platter of cheeses and cold meats, a jug which she hoped was wine, and hot water and a pile of clean clothes. Wren sat on the edge of the bed, watching, while Finn stood grimly, guarding her against people who were clearly no threat at all. He never said a word and that crack she had seen, when he had almost seemed himself again, seemed like a wish or a dream.

And then, finally, the door closed and they were alone.

Wren pursed her lips, trying to work out what to do, how to reach him. Elodie would have known. Elodie was a healer, but a hedge witch too. She had tended all kinds of ailments in her time living in Cellandre, those of the body and the mind,both physical and magical. She would have had a solution and it would be practical and perfect in every way.

But Elodie was in Pelias and she couldn’t even help herself.

No, this wouldn’t do. Wren imagined the look of absolute scorn her sometimes mother would have cast at her for thinking this way. It would not do at all. She wasn’t some helpless girl to sit here and pine away while shadow kin or the Nox or whatever it was destroyed the man she loved. Not even if he had welcomed it in, and offered himself up.

To protect her from Leander.

‘He isn’t worth this, you know,’ she said to Finn. ‘And if we don’t do something about you he will have won anyway. He will have destroyed you.’

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