Fear's Union

Chapter Twenty-One

—Anejo—

Shapes swam across Anejo's vision, patches of shadow with no discernible form. There were some recognisable voices echoing through her, but many were unknown and distinctly alien. The air smelt of salt, and moisture misted her consciousness. It was strange, unexpected, but then the pain returned. She slipped easily back into her peaceful and protective slumber.

The shapes reappeared, but this time there was no ethereal period. The pain slammed hard and crude, shooting through the inception of consciousness. A hand swept across her head, and a voice cried her name. But the pain was too much, and the darkness returned. The inner world was a nicer place than the agonising one without.

Softness wrapped her in its wonderful grasp, great mounds of white reared beside and behind her. The pain rose rapidly, but it was a dull ache. White cotton was draped over her left eye, a bandage of some sort, strapped down. The middle distance struggled into focus, and when the haze cleared, a welcome face smiled back at her. She slipped back into a safe and undisturbed sleep.

And then it was morning. And she sat bolt upright in an unfamiliar bed.

"Where am I?"

Her jaw ached horribly. She rubbed at it, but the bandages got in the way. There was an itch there too, and she couldn't quite get it. A dull headache resonated, and her vision was hazy and saturated. But the familiar face was still there.

She smiled. "Grandfather."

The room was still thoroughly unfamiliar. It was tall and wide with great arched windows at the further end. Light muslin curtains hung limp, and the creamy stone gave the room a clinical but impressive sheen. There were pictures on the walls, all unfamiliar from a personal perspective, but very much familiar to the scholar in her. Her bed was forged iron, an expensive piece, and the linen was of a quality that even she was unused to. Two guards in the grey of the rootmen flanked the door, and something stirred in her. What was it?

Kato! The past came dripping back and she turned to her grandfather. This couldn't be good.

"Where am I?"

"You are in Callij, on the island of Mandaria. You are damaged, but you will live."

It hit her hard, the memory of the Nadari Governor sweeping around her in graceful arcs. Punishing her. She vaguely recalled a huge blow to the face, hence presumably the aching jaw, but then only darkness. Or perhaps there was something else. Something whispered. The situation quickly settled, and she looked up. Her grandfather's brow was furrowed. And there was Felip, standing in the background. Thunderous.

"How did I get here?"

Her grandfather sighed, eyes piercing. "You were brought aboard a boat by Keles. You were brought from Saphos, from the palace of the Nadari Governor."

Her head dropped. "What do you know?"

"I know that you were there, and that you barely escaped with your life. I know that your body is more vivid than an oil painting, and I know that you have been an extremely stupid girl."

He spoke as the Consul of Ahan; as a ruler of nations. But he was still her loving grandfather, and she had her reasons. She should test him.

"Did Master Keles tell you what we found?" Maybe it was futile, but she had to try. Her grandfather seemed to swell.

"I do not care what you found! You were almost killed, and you were disobeying the orders of everyone who has ever meant well by you. You have brought shame on your family, and you have brought turmoil to your nation. You cannot justify your actions. Do you understand me?"

Justification, though, was all she had.

"They did it; they let the Delfinian fleet through."

The point hung there, saturating the atmosphere and sinking through her grandfather; softening him ever so. It was a potent point, and she was sure it must bite. Whether it could cease the tide was a different question. Surprisingly, Felip stepped up.

"What evidence do you have for this?"

"I heard the Lord Nadari admit as much." The silence lengthened, but the emphasis was clear.

Felip shook his head, but his eyes sparkled. He was torn. "If you lie on this matter—"

"Do you really think I would lie? Ask Aran... Oh God Aran!"

The tension dissipated, and she looked frantically about the room. What had happened to him? He wasn't here? He had been stubbornly brave in following her, but eventually he had succumbed to the cowardly heap that he really was. And if she'd been out cold, then he must have been...

"Is he alright? Was he injured?"

"You mean the boy? He is fine. He escaped with his life and less harm than you did."

Her grandfather's hardness subsided ever so slightly and she gusted So, Aran was fine. That was remarkable. It dawned on her that she had no recollection of escape. How had she got here?

"I was out cold. What happened?"

Felip and her grandfather shifted uneasily. They were clearly measuring their words. Felip stepped up again.

"Keles intervened and pulled you safely from your wreckage."

She didn't know what that meant, but it was hard to care. She yawned. She owed a debt to Keles and sighed heavily. She could do without that hanging over her.

Her whole body was swelling with the weight of her injuries, and she wanted nothing more than sleep. There was a really big yawn, and her grandfather stroked her forehead tenderly. Her eyelids drooped and she glimpsed the two rootmen beside the closed door. She was safe, and tension drained from her, dragging her down to sleep.

"You will corroborate my story, won't you grandfather?"

He furrowed his brows, his bushy eyebrows knitting together. "With who, love?"

"With Aran."

He shook his head slowly. "The boy claims to recall little of events."

She sighed sleepily. "Then call the Nadari Governor to Callij. Squeeze him until he speaks. He will crack."

The pair of them stared at her. Urgency crept up and she shuffled against her pillow.

"What?"

Felip tipped his head. There was none of his usual temperament there. "You killed him, sister. You murdered the Governor. You will face criminal charges and the very real prospect of punishment by death."

She was utterly awake. She looked to the door and to the two rootmen guarding it. They were not protecting her after all. They were protecting everyone else. This wasn't a ward. It was a cell. And she was a prisoner.