Wizard's Masquerade, page 67
She broke off. More than a few of the so-called traitors the Arrest Unit had captured were innocent, or at least, they’d had nothing to do with the Court Massacre. Some were indeed criminals, but the larger proportion had committed minor crimes at best, and most were guilty of nothing more than opposing the chamberlain in some form. The Crown had pardoned many of the prisoners and even issued apologies in some instances.
For some prisoners, like Beatrice, it was too little, too late.
“Maybe I’m not cut out to be a huskarl,” she sighed. “I thought it would be as simple as following orders and ensuring others abided by the law. But what do I do if I’m ordered to do things that aren’t morally right?”
“Leyna, I know you will always try to do what is right. But your gut feeling is telling you something—perhaps you should trust it.”
What was her gut feeling telling her?
“I became a huskarl so I can protect the royal family, and to…” she hesitated, realising what she was about to say was something she’d never shared with her parents, “and to make Tash proud.”
Lord Saunders blinked. “Tash? Our Tasha?”
“Yes. I thought I could follow her dream.”
“And what dream is that?”
Leyna’s lips parted in confusion. Did she really have to explain something so obvious?
“To…to uphold the law. To keep Rosaria safe. And I figured, if Tash had wanted to serve Rosaria as a city guard, then I could accomplish even more as a huskarl. I thought that even though she’s gone, I could achieve that for the both of us.”
Lord Saunders stared at her blankly for a moment before realising his pipe had gone out. He mumbled to himself as he relit it.
“Papa?” she prompted. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He sighed, releasing a puff of smoke in the same breath. “There’s something you need to know about Tash, my dear. She was never in the city guard.”
Leyna snapped her head to look at him. “What do you mean? I remember her uniform! What was she then, a Brotherhood member?”
“No. She was a highwayman.”
Leyna was glad she was sitting down. “No, that can’t be. Tash is the reason I became a guard…it’s the reason I’m a huskarl, I…” she shook her head as reality warped around her, as the pillars of her dreams began to tumble.
“She fancied herself as a heroic outlaw,” Lord Saunders said. “Stealing from the rich to give to the poor. I tried to talk her out of it on many occasions, but she was in love with a young man in the band.”
“But the crossbow bolt,” she whispered. “You told me a highwayman killed her.”
“Yes, but it was an accident. The man loved her, Leyna. He was distraught—he came to my doorstep to apologise, to confess.”
“Who?” she demanded, hackles raising. “What was his name?”
“I’ll tell you one day—when you aren’t so angry.”
She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them again. “What about Mamma? Does she know?”
“Yes, she knows. I have few secrets from your mother. I spent much of our coin to…make it all go away. Prevent a scandal.”
She began to laugh as she raked her hair with her hands. All these years, she’d been trying to fulfil her sister’s dream, but if Tash had never been a city guard, then where did that leave her? Did she still want to be a huskarl for her own sake?
And who had Tash been? A criminal? Or a hero? Pain flashed as the fond memories of her older sister were ripped from her. She would have to rethink who her sister was all over again. Had she still been a good person?
Leyna jerked her head up to look at her father. “Is that why you and Mamma sold the house? Because of money?”
“No. We were truly doing what we thought was best for you. And we could not have been prouder when you became a huskarl.”
Dazed, she stood and shuffled around the table. Lord Saunders spoke again. “I noticed you’re wearing your banderole on your right shoulder now.”
“Yes…yes, I am.” She hesitated. “Someone pointed out it should be worn on the right, but I didn’t really understand why.”
Her father smiled. “It matters because the banderole is a symbol, and that should be respected. Symbols have power. They remind us of our loyalties and beliefs.”
Leyna nodded slowly. A part of her had seen the banderole as a status symbol, as a way for people who saw her to know that she was a huskarl. Beyond the Rutherford colours, which were self-explanatory, she hadn’t realised it held a deeper meaning.
Just like she hadn’t realised that following her duties would chip away at her soul, devouring the innocence that she sought to protect in others. Like Sophie’s kindness, and Grace’s carefree giggles, and Seth’s boyish innocence as he dreamt of riding a lion.
And they finally had a chance at that world again…the one where demons didn’t roam the castle grounds, and people didn’t go missing. A world where she could enjoy the fountains and flowering gardens as Floofy frolicked amongst the green clovers. A world that she could share with the people she loved.
“It was the chamberlain who placed it on my left shoulder,” she blurted.
“And Quinn’s,” said Lord Saunders. “I’m not sure if you noticed…Quinn’s was on the left as well. But not Grace’s. I wonder why that is?”
It’s because I’m predictable and obedient. And because he could intimidate Quinn. But not Grace…she would never have chosen the rules over her friends. That’s why the chamberlain didn’t choose her.
But it hadn’t stopped him from trying to manipulate her to move Quinn out of the dungeon. And it had nearly worked.
Leyna gripped her knees, feeling sick. It was as if the chamberlain had visually marked her and Quinn as his pawns—and she’d been none the wiser.
She would not think about Percy. Instead, she leant against the stone rail and inhaled deeply. The air was cool. There would be more warm days, but with autumn approaching, she was determined not to waste them. The captain had relaxed her schedule, which was just as well as her hands were still raw and itchy—she hadn’t had the heart to return to the healing ward. It reminded her too much of Finnigan.
A sharp pang echoed through her. He’s gone.
“Papa,” she began, glancing back to where he sat cross-legged in his chair. “What do I do?”
He gave her a knowing look. “I think you should find whoever showed you how to wear that banderole correctly.” He paused, as if pondering his words. “You know, ever since your courtship began with Finnigan, you’ve seemed happy. That’s nice for a father to see.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “How do you know his name?”
“I may not be an active member of the Brotherhood, but I used to be.”
Biting her nail, she turned back to the gardens below, thoughtful. How had she not known this about her father? Lifting her chin, her gaze shifted across the yellowed foothills, up through the dense green forests, and over the tall peaks of the blue and purple mountains.
Where was Finnigan? What was he doing right now? Had he already arrived in Kormend? The world beyond the mountains felt like a dream, the peaks half-hidden by sun-touched clouds.
“Papa, what’s Kormend like?”
He didn’t answer straight away, and as the minutes passed, she turned around to see that he’d left.
She was alone on the balcony. Taking a steadying breath, she returned her gaze to the mountains. With every minute that passed, its colour shifted, turning a deeper, darker purple as night fell.
“Yah?” asked Floofy, appearing at her shoulder.
She smiled and stroked his fur. “We’re going on an adventure,” she explained, and Floofy cooed his approval.
Because Finnigan had to be out there somewhere, and he’d taken a piece of her heart with him.
Jay Pellegrin, Wizard's Masquerade
