Stars of Pale Fire

V. Introductions to the King.

  Silver's never been under arrest before.

  That's not true, technically, but being held in the governor's house doesn't really count as being arrested, and it was just one time. He didn't deserve it, anywayâ€"that moronic kid had it coming.

  Somehow, this experience fills Silver with a choking kind of dread. His mind races through wild, implausible possibilitiesâ€"maybe he's committed a crime he isn't aware of, or he's somehow smuggled an illegal weapon into the country, or he's hoarding illegal drugs under his clothes. He pats his chest reflexively, checking for Nightmare Blood, but lets out a breath when he doesn't find any.

  He knows, in the back of his mind, that he's being irrational. That doesn't stop his anxiety. He scratches at his hands, a nervous tick of sorts, and rides near Elyon and Gwynestri, who seem the most able to lie their way out of a death sentence. Halberd and Glaive could probably break them out of a jail cell, and Eithulf and Aldus can be counted on to break anyone who gets in their way, and Clover's so solid and dependable Silver's pretty sure she's never been arrested in her life.

  He glances at her, and is surprised to see her hands are trembling slightly. She looks pale, unfocused, and Glaive is riding alongside her, speaking in a soft, gentle voiceâ€"the kind of tone one assumes when calming wild animals. Silver blinks, and looks at Elyon, who looks indescribably unconcerned. Nothing ever fazes Elyon.

  "Elyon," Silver says.

  "What."

  "Have you ever been in a dungeon before?" Silver asks, skin crawling as he thinks of dim, dark cells with rats and stale bread. He hates confined spaces. They make him crazy. He has to be under the open sun, or he'll explode.

  "Yeah," Elyon says. He then does not elaborate.

  "What's it like?" Silver prompts.

  "Depends on the dungeon," Elyon replies, scratching at his chin. He's beginning to grow a few stray whiskers. He hums softly. "It wasn't too bad, but I was only there for about a year."

  Silver stares at him. "What—what did you do?"

  "You know something funny? I don't even remember." Elyon looks at the middle distance for a moment, and then shrugs. "I wouldn't worry. I know the king here. He'll let us off easy." His expression adds the, if he knows what's good for him.

  "And if he doesn't," Gwynestri adds serenely, "I'll bash his head in."

  Silver stares at her, waiting for her to crack a smile or perhaps retract the sentence entirely. She does not. Silver says, "Thanks."

  Gwynestri says, "You're welcome."

  They ride for three days, kept under close watch by the soldiers, and eventually arrive at the capital city. It is, Silver discovers, supremely uninteresting. It's just a normal city, but bigger, and also there's a castle, but even the castle is boring, because it's basically just a bigger house—and, granted, most houses don't have moats and silver gates and a giant portcullis, and maybe it has a few more towers than the average house, and more stained glass windows, but it's just made of stones and mortar and wood, like any old house. Silver's disappointed. He stares at it. Maybe it's secretly made of gold. Or something. Would gold make a good house? Silver's never seen gold, not in real life.

  To Silver's chagrin, they approach the castle, crossing the moat and ducking below the portcullis, and it's chock full of soldiers. They dismount and hand their horses off, and Gwynestri rests a hand on Silver's shoulder, steering him along. As if he's some kind of dog who needs herding. Reaper walks alongside Silver, wary of all these new people and new smells and new places. Silver keeps a hand near him, just in case he tries to bolt.