Page 52 of Winter's Fate

“We have soldiers in need of medicine, but it is not the solereason we’ve stopped here,” Callum said as they entered. He, at least, was not gawking like a youth.

It was too easy to forget that Laena ought to have seen this place years ago, during the traditional tour that would have marked her ascension to the throne. In Etra, the queen was no distant student of the world; she was an active participant in it, expected to grow up in the streets of her own city and visit the continent before her coronation.

She’d know the significance of the trees—were they native, or had they been transplanted?—and the owl carving on the main building’s windowsill. She’d know what the main building was called, and the name of their most treasured feast days, and how to address their leader without stumbling.

She’d spent so much time studying kings and queens and the intricacies of their families and customs, yet so little on the other cultures in the Vales. Even the poisonkeepers, and they were as important as any family in the realm. More so, perhaps. Why had her upbringing not included more details about them? Why could she not name their ranks, their titles, their prayers and customs? Now that she was here, it seemed a massive oversight.

While she mused, Thaddeus studied Callum as if trying to read the true purpose for their visit in his expression. At length, he nodded. “The master has ordered the physicians to the guest cabins. You may bring your wounded there.”

Callum hitched his chin toward Edmun and Godfrey, who began helping the injured soldiers along the cobblestone path. They certainly seemed to know their way around. Had they assisted Callum in escorting Thaddeus here? Had they come to check on him since them, at Callum’s request—or King Hawk’s?

As for General Moore, the man was reaching into the boughs of a flowering tree beside the wall, his motives unclear. Though not, Laena noted with disapproval, focused on the health of his injured soldiers.

“It is good to see you, Callum,” Thaddeus said, and Laena thought he meant it, though he spoke in a low tone, casting a significant look toward General Moore as he did. “You must know that the king has been in touch. I’m sure he will be relieved to learn that you live.”

Callum raised an eyebrow. “There’s a ‘but’ in that sentence, isn’t there?”

Thaddeus inclined his head, fingers twitching like he’d very much have liked to grab a fistful of his hair and pull. “He knows you led the delegation without authorization and will expect you to involve your entire party in any discussion we might have.”

The poisonkeeper said this last bit with just the barest lift of his eyebrow, and Laena got the impression Thaddeus very much wanted to know the story.

“Then perhaps,” Laena stepped in, “you might be allowed a private reunion. Callum is as a brother to you, is he not?”

Thaddeus blinked, looking at her in surprise, as if he hadn’t realized she was there. As his gaze landed on her, Brin scurried deeper into the folds of her pockets, like she thought he might pierce through the cloth with his eyes—and perhaps singe her to a crisp. Laena had trouble imagining this kindly looking man causing hurt to any creature, but she’d learned to trust Brin’s instincts.

“Very well,” Thaddeus said slowly. “But if the master calls for me, I must answer.”

Callum pressed his lips together, and she thought he might object, but he only nodded. “Of course.”

What did Callum think of the younger prince’s choices, then? He said he’d escorted Thaddeus here, but he hadn’t told her whether he’d done that in support. Perhaps he’d been attempting to bring Thaddeus home. Had Callum objected to the younger man’s decision to join the poisonkeepers and livean isolated life here in Inasvale? Rumor said Thaddeus had not even left the monastery to attend his father’s funeral.

Whatever Callum’s feelings on the matter, they were not evident. He’d scrubbed all telling expressions from his face, as if he’d come to visit a stranger rather than a man who he’d been raised alongside like a younger brother.

Thaddeus led them directly into the main building and down a wide entry hall bordered by wooden benches. A waiting area, she supposed, for the pair of tightly shut doors straight ahead. Light streamed in from the lofted windows, and the place smelled like freshly cut cedar. Pleasant and bright.

A pair of boys were sweeping the floor as the party entered, and they bowed deeply to Thaddeus before continuing their work. Thaddeus nodded to them, smiling faintly, then gestured for Laena and Callum to follow him up a tight staircase to the left.

From the outside, she would not have thought this building had a second floor at all. But the staircase spilled them into yet another hall, this one narrower, the walls stained with oil from the burning of lamps.

“The master keeps his study below,” Thaddeus explained. “Full poisonkeepers work in our study chambers. The students share a space at the end of the hall.”

“And you’re advanced enough to merit a study chamber of your own?” Callum asked. “You’ve not yet been here two years.”

Thaddeus merely opened one of the doors and ushered them inside. “After you.”

The room was small and spare, furnished with a round table, a shelf piled high with books, and a curtained area that contained a bed and dresser. More piles of books graced each corner, and there were several open on the foot of the bed. What was Thaddeus studying so feverishly? Or was this merely the life of any new poisonkeeper, to spend his days learning?

“I may owe a few returns to the library.” Thaddeus wasgripping his hair openly now, and Laena half expected him to rush around and tidy the space. “If you need to speak with me privately, we’d best not tarry. The master will call for me soon, I’m sure.”

Laena saw no reason to delay. Careful not to dislodge Brin from her hiding spot, she withdrew the crystal from her pocket, set it on the table, and flicked the covering away to reveal the hateful thing. Thaddeus adjusted his spectacles and leaned closer as Laena told her tale, though he had the sense not to touch it.

Callum picked up the story from the assassination attempt, then told of the unnatural storm, the lightning, and the shipwreck. Followed by the kidnappers. Their different goal—to capture rather than to kill—had not escaped him, either.

When Callum had finished, Thaddeus sat in silence, tapping his fingertips against his knee and scrunching his nose every few seconds, as though he simply couldn’t get his spectacles to sit right.

“I believe there’s a simple explanation for all of this,” he said finally, his chin so low it was practically propped upon the table.

Callum crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me you think we’re mad.”

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