Chapter 98. A Knight of the Lapisfield Name Will Not Be Defeated by a Morning

Chapter 98: 98. A Knight of the Lapisfield Name Will Not Be Defeated by a Morning

We scrambled into our clothes with the frantic energy of people who knew that five minutes was a generous deadline.

Laura was trying to lace her boots while still half-wrapped in her cloak, tripping over her own feet, swearing under her gauntlet... the wrong gauntlet—in a language I didn’t even know she knew.

"Where is my other gauntlet?!" she hissed, throwing aside a bedroll.

"Under your pillow," I said, pointing.

"It’s not—" She reached under the pillow. "Oh... Oh, it’s—"

"Found it."

"I found it!"

"You’re welcome."

Alicia was strapping her chestplate on with practiced efficiency, her movements fluid and sharp. It’s the kind of movements that reminded you she was, underneath all that softness, a knight.

She glanced at Laura, who was now sitting on the ground with one boot on and one boot off, looking like she’d been through a war.

"You know," Alicia said quietly, "if Sharon really did use her Aether to muffle the sound, that means she was listening."

Laura’s head snapped up. "She was what—"

"She was listening." Alicia’s eyes were dark with something I couldn’t quite read.

Something knowing. And something amused.

"She was lying outside the tent, and she was listening."

Laura’s face went from red to white to red again in approximately two seconds. "She heard... everything?"

"Everything," Alicia confirmed.

"Alicia, that’s not—" I tried to stop her because I know she’s joking, but it’s too late.

"EVERYTHING?!" Laura’s voice hit a frequency that probably made every horse in camp flinch. "She heard—she heard—I—we—everything—"

"Laura." Alicia was in front of her now, kneeling down, and taking both of her hands in hers.

I can tell she’s doing that just so that she didn’t laugh right at her face.

She said. "Stop... Stop it! This is fine!"

"This is normal!"

"You’re a twenty-something woman who just had sex with the man she loves and the woman who’s willing to share you with him."

"That is fine, and yep... that is healthy!"

"That is—"

"That is not what I was trained for!" Laura whispered fiercely, her eyes darting to the tent flap like a cornered animal. "I was trained to fight dragons!"

"To defend the kingdom! Not to—to make noises!"

"To be a human being," I said softly, kneeling down beside them. "That’s what you were trained for... To be a person."

"And not a weapon... nor just a knight. But just... a person."

Laura looked at me, and for a moment, the shame in her eyes flickered... it only flickered, though, and something else took its place.

Something softer. Even vulnerable.

"You’re right," she said quietly. "I... I know that."

"I know it’s not wrong... I know it’s not—" She paused. "But it’s embarrassing."

"Everything embarrassing is worth it," Alicia said while chuckling. "Trust me."

Laura let out a long, shaky breath. She looked at me.

She looked at Alicia. And then, very slowly, very deliberately, she reached up and pulled her gauntlet off.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I’m going to finish getting dressed." She looked at her bare hand. "And then I’m going to walk outside that tent, and I’m going to look Lady Sanford in the eye, and I’m going to serve her breakfast, and I’m going to pretend that nothing happened!"

"You’re going to pretend—"

"I’m going to pretend." Her jaw was set.

Her eyes were fierce, and there it was... the knight was back. "Because I am a knight of the Lapisfield name, and I will not be defeated by a morning."

Alicia grinned. "That’s Roland’s girl, alright?"

I sighed.

Laura stood up, straightened her cloak, put on her armor... properly this time, on the right hand, in the right order, and took a deep breath.

She looked at me, and her expression was something between defiance and terror.

"If I die," she said, "I want it on the record that this was all Roland’s fault."

"Hey—"

"And Alicia’s fault."

"Fair," Alicia said.

...

We emerged about ten minutes later, scrubbed and combed, and held it together with great effort, and found the camp already awake.

The guards were sitting around a smoky fire, drinking something hot out of tin cups. Pike was eating a loaf of bread the size of a small child.

Sharon was perched on a stump with a mug in her good hand, studying the sky with elaborate disinterest, and when she saw the three of us, she raised one eyebrow so slowly that I felt my face catch fire.

"Eat something," she said again.

"We will," said Alicia, with immense dignity.

"You’ll need it."

"Thank you."

I saw Eveline, seated by the fire with her notebook, was scribbling away with intense concentration.

She didn’t look up as we passed. But the tips of her ears had turned bright pink, and her pencil had stopped moving about two minutes ago.

She was staring at the same line, over and over.

"What are you writing?" I asked, as I sat down.

"Notes," said Eveline, very quickly.

"About what?"

"The, um... the sky... cloud patterns."

"There are no clouds."

"Exactly."

I let it go. I figured I’d done enough damage for one morning.

...

We spent the fifth day waiting.

It was surprisingly peaceful.

Nobody attacked us.

Nobody came to arrest us.

Captain Alder sent a polite note inquiring after our health, which Laura read aloud in a deadpan voice and then tore in half.

A pair of depot healers arrived around noon and spent an hour fussing over Ferris, who flirted with both of them shamelessly, and then left with a promise to send more bandages.

Garrick woke around mid-morning.

He was weak, and his voice was a thread, but his eyes were clear. He lay propped against a pile of blankets in the shade of the chapel wall, with a cup of water on his chest, and I sat down beside him.

"I remember most of it," he said. "The cold... The light... Then the girl, with the bottle."

"Eveline."

"She nearly dropped it."

"Twice."

"I thought I was dead." He closed his eyes. "I wasn’t afraid... That surprised me."

"You’ll be fine."

"I’ll be hanged, probably."

"Not if I have a say."

He gave a faint, ironic smile. "You say that a lot."

"I mean it a lot."

He took a sip of water, and then he turned his face toward me, with a more serious expression. "I told you something, last night..."

"In the wagon... I don’t know if you caught it... I was out of my head."

"Harrowmere Hollow."

"You heard."

"Everybody heard." I took out Laura’s notebook and showed him the map she’d drawn. "We found it on a chart in the depot."

"Same name. Same place. Three days northeast on the old toll road."

His face went gray.

For a long time, he stared at the little red circle, with the tip of his finger trembling above the paper.

"It’s real, then," he whispered. "They really did."

"We’ll find out."

"If you go there..." He raised his eyes, and they burned. "If you go, you’ll see things..."

"About the people, and about the village... I want you to remember something."

"Whatever you find, whatever’s been done there... It wasn’t the people who lived there! They were innocent!"

"I know."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He nodded and let the paper fall. I sat beside him in silence for a time, and the shadow of the chapel wall crept slowly across the grass.

At dusk, we climbed the ridge to watch the depot.

It was Laura’s idea. She’d found a flat shelf of rock on a low hill about a mile south of the gate, half hidden by thorn bushes, with a clear view of the whole compound.

We reached it in the last of the daylight, while the sky turned from gold to rose and the shadows lengthened across the road.

We spread out along the rim, five of us, with Laura’s brass field glass passed from hand to hand.

Sharon stood at the end of the line, with her arm tucked into its sling. She’d put her good hand on her sword hilt, and she’d stopped complaining about the shoulder, which was how I knew she was worried.

Eveline stood beside her. She hadn’t said a word all day.

She’d kept a steady half pace behind, like a shadow, and every so often, Sharon would glance down at her and make a gruff noise, and Eveline would hurry to keep up.

"There," said Laura.

The big gate of the depot had swung open.

For a moment, nothing happened.

The sky glowed red behind the walls, and the watchtowers stood out like black teeth. Then a column of wagons rolled slowly out into the road, one after another, in a long, creaking line.

I counted twelve.

They were big, heavy freight wagons, each drawn by six horses and covered in dark canvas, with iron-banded wheels that left deep ruts in the dirt.

They moved in perfect order, nose to tail, and as they passed beneath the gatehouse, I saw that every one of them carried the same mark on its side: a pale ring, with a jagged edge, and a single line through the middle.

On either side, in a double file, rode knights in black armor.

I lost count at thirty.

They sat their horses stiffly, with their helmets down and their shields on their backs, and a long, thin banner fluttered above them, a scrap of pale blue on a black pole.

At the head of the column rode a solitary rider, cloaked and hooded, who didn’t look to the left or right.

And at the gate, standing at attention with one hand over his heart, was Captain Joren Alder.

"He’s saluting them," said Alicia, in a tight voice.

"Of course he is," said Sharon.

"He’s part of it."

"Of course he’s part of it... They all are!" She spat on the ground. "The whole damn depot!"