Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(46)

Ash was no longer the boy who had fled the Vale four years ago, driven by grief and guilt. He knew he shouldn’t expect to find the city that he remembered on his return. He had changed, and it made sense that the city would, too. His head told him that, but his heart wasn’t listening. The Vale he was returning to seemed smaller, shabbier, and sadder—the visible cost of five years of brutal war.

They stowed their ponies at a livery outside of the castle close. Maybe he should find a place to stay, so he could bathe and get a good night’s sleep before he presented himself at court.

You’re just stalling. The queen’s reaction to his return would have little to do with his appearance or state of hygiene. According to Lila, his mother had known he was alive, and at Oden’s Ford, all along. Yet she’d never reached out and tried to persuade him to come home.

He’d prefer that Lila wasn’t there to see the reunion. He knew she would have something to say, now or later.

“You don’t have to come with me right now,” Ash said as they approached the castle close. “If you want to get settled, or if you have other things to take care of, you—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it,” Lila said, rolling her eyes. “If the queen is in her castle, no doubt my father will be there, too. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see what it looks like inside.”

Ash stopped so quickly that Lila all but ran into him. “You’ve never been to the palace?”

“Well, I’ve been around the palace,” Lila said. “I’ve been in the stable yard and the gatehouse and the army barracks. I’ve been in quite a few inns and taverns and alleys.” She laughed at his expression. “Look, it’s not like my father wants to meet with his black sheep, smuggler, spy daughter in the palace or have me call on the queen. There are too many enemy eyes and ears there. It might have put the prince of the realm at risk, and we wouldn’t want that.”

Ash, momentarily speechless, stared at her. I left of my own accord, he thought. But she’s been shut out by her own father because of the job she’d been assigned to do—nannying me.

“I’m sorry, Lila,” he said simply. “I didn’t know.”

“No worries,” she said. “I only have to see it once. My home is on the coast, with my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Besides, things have changed around here. You won’t get through the gates without me.”

Lila had a writ from the Queen’s Guard that was enough to get them inside the walls of the close and across the drawbridge into the inner bailey. At the palace gate, they ran into a stone wall in the form of Ruby Greenholt.

Ruby was a war orphan who’d been adopted by two of the queen’s most trusted Wolves—Pearlie Greenholt and Talia Abbott. Ruby and Ash had played together as children, since her parents often escorted the royal family when they traveled within the queendom.

Ruby was as tall as Ash, but was still totally recognizable with her auburn hair pulled back onto the nape of her neck, her face nearly freckled over from the sun. When he’d left, she’d just been accepted into the elite Gray Wolves. Now a lieutenant’s scarf was knotted around her neck, so she must’ve done well. He stood there mutely, hands clenched, heart pounding in his throat, waiting to be recognized.

But he wasn’t, at least not at first. Ruby was all business.

“I know these are the queen’s public hours, but she’s not receiving anyone today,” Ruby said. “I don’t know whether she’ll be granting audiences anytime this week.” Looking them up and down, taking in their travel-worn appearance, she softened a bit. “It looks like you’ve been a long time on the road. I’m sorry if you’ve wasted a trip.”

Lila hesitated, shooting a look at Ash as if to see if he wanted to speak up. When he didn’t, she said, “Tell her it’s Lila Barrowhill. I think she’ll remember my name.”

Ruby shook her head. “Her Majesty said she was not to be disturbed, and so it doesn’t matter who you are.”

“What about Captain Byrne?” Lila persisted. “Is he available? Tell him Lila is here and needs to see him.”

She shook her head. “He’s in with the queen and some others, meeting with—they’re having a meeting,” she finished lamely. “If I disturb him, I’ll be disturbing the queen.”

“Ruby,” Ash said softly. “Don’t you know me?”

Their eyes met, with Ruby’s as hard and blank as an ice field. Then doubt crept into her face, followed by disbelief and a trace of fear. “By the Martyred Queens,” she whispered. “It can’t be—is it really . . . Adrian?”

“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s me. I am so glad to see you alive and well.”

“Me? You’re glad to see me alive?” Ruby’s voice was rising. She gripped the front of his coat and fingered the rough fabric, patted him on the cheek with her rough palm. “Blood and bones! You feel real enough. You’re so tall, and thin, and—that head of hair! Are you risen from the dead in our hour of need or what?”

Adrian shook his head, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Not exactly. I am alive, and it’s a long story, but right now I would very much like to see my mother.”

“Follow me,” Ruby said, turning and striding off down the hallway so that Ash had to trot to keep up. As they twisted and turned down the corridors, it was like revisiting the time-blurred setting of a childhood dream, the spaces narrower and smaller and plainer than he remembered.