Two hours later, I had my arms slung around two men I'd never met before tonight, and was singing at the top of my lungs like they were brothers born of the same mother.
One was a town guard off his shift, Arrec, red-faced and broad around the shoulders. Noll was the other's name, a tall deckhand that still smelled of tar despite being on shore leave for days already. Hygiene wasn't exactly a priority in these guys' minds.
Jace was wedged in beside me, our voices colliding and rising together as we bellowed The Bear and the Maiden Fair, slurring the words and inventing half of them as we went.
"He lifted her high in the air! He sniffed and roared and he smelled her there! She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair! When he licked the honey from her hair!"
On that last note, we all collapsed into laughter in the middle of the song. We clung to one another a moment longer, swaying, before someone, possibly me, nearly tipped us all over.
"Seven hells," I said breathlessly, "I needed this."
We collapsed back onto the bench, the table sticky beneath our hands with spilled ale. Someone knocked over a cup but no one bothered to right it. If Jace and I let a bit more ale pour out of our tankards when no one was looking, well, no harm done.
"You lads have it good, I say." I pointed between me and Jace. "Our pops had us on the axe the whole day yesterday, an' for what? A handful of silver pennies that won't even buy me a proper pair of tits."
Jace nodded, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. "If I was the lord, I'd make that a law, I would. A man should be able to get a handful—" he cupped the air above his chest exaggeratedly, "—for a handful of pennies."
Arrec barked a laugh. Noll shoved us both away with mock offense.
"No, no, none of you fellas know a real day's work," the deckhand said. "Not if you ain't been out at sea in a storm. You try spendin' a whole night haulin' nets with fish big as a bloody fat septon stuck in 'em while the deck dances 'neath you. Been a week now, an' I'm still walkin' bent over like I'm searchin' for silver in the mud."
Arrec nodded along, scratching at his stubble. "Aye, lads, can't complain much 'bout me trade. Most days it's just—" he made his voice low and gravelly like a drill sergeant, "—Stand an' look fierce. Walk an' look fierce. Hardest part's not falling asleep with the scowl still on me face."
That earned another round of chuckles. But the guard's smile faded as he went on.
"But that's most days. This past week… that's different. I got you all beat. You ever had to dig a hole for a dead pig or sum'? 'Cause I've been at it all week now. Just me an' a few other lads."
My mouth opened, but Jace's boot found my ankle under the table, and it clicked shut.
Noll, blissfully ignorant, leaned forward and did the asking for us. "What, you diddle the wrong maid an' the lord's got you helpin' the swineherd?" He laughed at his own joke.
Arrec didn't. "Nah, lads," he said, suddenly grim. "Just some bad business last week. Foul business, with those island folk." He shrugged, as if that settled it. "But had to be done, cap'ain said."
There it was. The whole reason we were here, in this inn, at this table, at this hour.
Arrec was one of the guards Jace had shadowed all week, one who didn't walk the market or the docks, but patrolled the castle itself and the grounds instead. He was also going in and out of town with a small group of other trusted men-at-arms, somewhere Jace had never managed to follow on foot.
I felt myself go still for a second, though I did my best to keep my face loose, my grin sloppy. Jace spoke up before I could trip myself and ruin the whole damn thing.
"Aye," he said easily, "we ain't been comin' to town much since our mum passed but the whole place feels strange. All quiet-like."
Noll nodded, lowering his voice. "Aye. Folks down my way don't like it neither." He hooked a thumb toward the docks. "Those foreign fuckers act like they own the place. Look down on us. Tryin' our women. Ain't right. Dunno what the lords're thinkin'."
Arrec scowled into his cup. "Don't go questionin' Lord Elmar now. He's a good man. Fine man. It's the lady that's…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Aye, iss' not proper, but it's the job. An' we don't go down to the docks no more. Tyroshi fuckers take care o' that now."
"Screw those silver-haired fuckers." Noll spat onto the floor. "You shoulda killed 'em instead of the lady."
Arrec's hand came down hard on Noll's shoulder. "Ain't no one killed the Tarth lady, Noll. Don't be sayin' that."
My heart thudded, and the words came out of me before I could stop them.
"So it's true, then," I said. "You're keepin' the Tarth lady in the castle. In the tower."
Taking a moment to look around, Arrec leaned in, then, close enough that I could smell the ale on his breath. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Aye. Got her locked up there like one o' them birds the maesters keep. But me cap'ain's having me an' some lads dig another hole tomorrow, by the old quarry." He frowned. "Hope it ain't for her, though. She sounded a nice lady when I saw her in the castle. Pretty, too." He shook his head. "Shame."
A cold chill crawled up my spine. For a heartbeat, I nearly took him by the lapels and shook him until every last detail spilled free. What room was she in exactly. How many stood watch. How often the torchlight changed. I wanted to know everything.
My hands twitched with the urge, but I forced them still. Instead, I laughed weakly and let a few more minutes pass, the conversation slipping by me as it turned to the girls they fancied and the others they actually fucked.
When the edge finally dulled enough that my hands stopped trembling, I slapped the table and pushed myself to my feet.
"Seven save us," I said, squinting as if the room were spinning harder than it was. "If we don't get back soon, our pops'll start flippin' over every maiden's bed in town lookin' for us."
That earned fresh laughter. Arrec snorted into his cup, and Noll clapped Jace on the shoulder.
We exchanged sloppy farewells, promises to drink together again, all lies I didn't mind telling. Jace tossed a few copper coins onto the table before and staggered out into the street.
Outside, the early evening air hit me like a slap to the face. A chilly gust blew against us, cool and damp and smelling of wet wood and fish. I hunched my shoulders and leaned into Jace, playing the drunk, letting my boots drag.
We made it halfway down the street before I veered.
Jace caught my arm. "My l—" he started, then corrected himself quickly with my fake name, "—Lian. Where're we goin'?"
I barely heard him as I pulled us along. There was a thin, high droning in my ears, like some kind of wasp was trapped inside my skull.
Maybe it was the drink, which was not all as fake as I wished, or maybe it was just this deep, terrible urge to see my mother, that sweetest and kindest of women, and have her hold me in her arms as she did when I was just a boy, but my feet carried me forward before my mind could catch up.
The Weeping Tower loomed out of the dark, its curtain walls squat and heavy, the postern gate highlighted by flanking torches that flickered and danced in the wind.
I on it before Jace could stop me.
My fists slammed into the wood, once, twice, the skin of my knuckles paying the price. "Open up!" I shouted, the sound tearing out of my throat like a growl. "Open the bloody—"
Jace hauled me back, wrapping an arm around my chest as I fought him, dragging me away just as the gate burst open. We turned the corner at a stumbling run. Gruff voices shouted behind us, boots thundering on stone.
"Sorry for this, my lord," Jace muttered. Then he drove his fist into my gut.
Everything I'd drunk, everything I'd eaten, came up in a violent rush. I folded over, retching, bile burning my throat, my eyes streaming as we stumbled into an alley.
Six guards came pounding after us, lantern light bouncing wildly. By the time they reached the corner, I was on my knees in the mud, heaving like a dying animal.
"'Pologies, sers, apologies," Jace said, voice thick with embarrassment as he held my shoulders. "Me brother had a bit too much drink an' thought he'd found a brothel."
One of the guards laughed while another swore under his breath. They said something I could hardly hear over my retching.
"Aye, sers," Jace went on quickly, eager, "if only me neighbor's stables had you to protect 'em when he's drunk. The sheep weren't so lucky last time. Should've seen the state of 'em the mornin' after."
That did the trick. Laughter broke out amongst them. Someone told Jace to get the fool home before he drowned himself in a puddle, then the sound of the boots turned away. The lantern light retreated.
Only then did Jace ease me up, one arm hooked tight around my back as we staggered away toward the town square, back toward our waiting "father."
My stomach still churned, my hands still shook, but my head was clear now. Brutally so.
"Again," Jace whispered, "I'm truly sorry, my lord."
I shook my head, swallowing the taste of bile that lay thick in my tongue. "No," I said, voice hoarse. "You did exactly right. I almost had us in a dungeon for the night because I couldn't control myself."
A foolish impulse too. Elmar and Lenora Whitehead would not murder my mother outright, no matter what Arrec the guard thought. It'd make no sense to rid themselves of the only point of leverage they had.
We kept walking across town, keeping away from other passersby on the street. After a moment, I asked about the only thing I could think about.
"You know where this old quarry is?"
Jace answered quietly, "Aye."
I nodded, the idea forming easily in my head. Guards out of town meant easy access to information, and there's nothing I wanted more than figuring out how to slip my mother out from under the Whitehead's thumb.
xxx
Lady Addison Tarth
Tears burned at Addison's eyes, blurring the edges of the small chamber that had become her cage. She had not realized she was crying until her throat tightened and her breath hitched, shallow and uneven.
Shame followed close behind. She was Lady of Tarth. The Evenstar's wife. Mother to three children. She should have been stronger than this.
Lenora Whitehead stood by the door, one hand resting lightly against the wood as though she owned not just the room, but the woman inside it. There was a smile on her face, a pleasant, practiced thing that Addison could now see was utterly devoid of warmth.
"Don't cry now, dear. You should be happy," Lenora said airily. "I am being generous. I even let Selwyn pick which daughter of yours will marry my son."
The words struck like a physical blow. Addison's stomach lurched, a wave of sickness rising so fast she had to clutch the edge of the bed to steady herself. Her daughters. Spoken of like coin to be counted and exchanged.
Lenora watched her reaction with open satisfaction.
"That is more choice than I ever had," she continued.
Addison swallowed, forcing herself to lift her head. "Do not pretend you were forced into the sept," she spat.
The smile vanished. Lenora's face twisted, the pleasant mask cracking to reveal something furious beneath. She crossed the room in three quick strides and struck Addison hard across the cheek. The sound echoed in the small room.
"I will not hear that," Lenora hissed, "from a husband-stealing slut like you. I would have been the one to marry Selwyn Tarth if you had not seduced him behind my back."
Addison's head rang. "I did not seduce him," she said weakly. Her cheek burned, but the greater pain was the disbelief flooding her chest. "Nor did you ever tell me you were betrothed to him. I would not have—" Her voice broke, and she had to take a breath before continuing. "I would not have agreed to the match had I known. You were like a sister to me."
For a fleeting instant, something like doubt or regret flickered across Lenora's face. It was gone almost at once, hardened into a dark resolve as she turned away and moved back toward the door.
"Once you wed him," Lenora said coldly, "Lady Selira did not give me much choice. It was the only use I had, she told me, and I had failed even in that."
Addison frowned, confusion cutting through her misery. Lady Selira Whitehead was a stern and exacting woman, yes, but cruel? That did not fit the woman she remembered.
Lenora caught the look.
"Of course you don't know," she said bitterly. "You were always her favorite. She wanted you to marry Elmar after she passed, did you know? She treated you as her successor." Her lip curled. "While I was the distant cousin with no prospects, more burden than boon after Selwyn passed me over for you."
She shook her head, as if discarding the past altogether. "It does not matter now. Soon a daughter of Tarth will marry into House Whitehead. Your husband and your son will be rid of in due time. And with my son backing his wife's claim, I will be Lady of Tarth in all but name, regent to the island you stole from me."
With that, Lenora left, the click of the door behind her like the headsman axe as it struck the stump.
Addison did not remember rising from the bed. She only knew that the nausea overwhelmed her, and she barely made it to the chamber pot before retching violently into it. Her body shook as she emptied what little was left in her stomach, the taste of bile burning her throat.
When it was done, she slumped to the floor, her back against the bed, and began to weep.
This was her fault. All of it. She had trusted Lenora. Gods, she had trusted her like a silly little girl who wanted to relive the only good times she had of her youth. She had walked willingly into the snare, and now Selwyn, Galladon, and her girls would pay the price for her foolishness.
Arianne's warning back at the Rock came to her mind, then. Somehow, she had known. Addison might have only just seen her through Lenora's fake smiles, but her little girl had grasped at her old friend's true nature after meeting her just once.
She wanted to feel proud of her daughter, but all she could think about was how that same daughter might be forced to marry Lenora's boy, and the gods only knew what that woman would do to her little girl once she outlived her usefulness.
A terrible thought took root, whispering in the dark corners of her mind.
It would be better if I were dead.
She trembled and closed her eyes tight, trying to even out her breath. That thought was an old friend, one that followed her constantly when Lady Wylde would whisper snide comments about her, or one of her cousins would pull at her pigtails and spit on her and confirm what she already knew, that she did not belong with them.
This time, however, she had not the strength to combat it. After all, if she were dead, then Lenora could not use her. Could not bargain with her life. Could not twist her existence into a weapon against the people she loved.
Addison pressed her hands to her face and cried until her chest ached from sobbing and her tears ran dry, alone in the quiet room, wishing she could undo the past, or failing that, disappear from the future altogether.
xxx
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