was the most wonderful night in Catrin's life, and she wished it would never end.
When Carrod was exhausted, he bowed to Catrin and thanked her for the dance, but before he could walk away, she kissed him on the cheek. He blushed and held his hand over the spot where she kissed him, and as he ran to his mother, she beamed at Catrin. Benjin remained at his place behind her seat, and Catrin led him to the dance floor. He surprised her completely; he danced wonderfully.
'You never told me you could dance.'
'It's a closely guarded family secret,' he replied as he whirled her through the crowd of dancers.
Like all good things, the celebration had to end, and as the night grew long, the crowd began to disperse. When all the revelers were gone, Catrin rubbed her aching feet and stifled a yawn. The servants cleared the remnants of the meal, and only Catrin, her grandmother, Benjin, and Millie remained in the hall.
'You're an amazing woman, Catrin,' her grandmother said, and the title did not escape her notice. 'I was afraid our subjects would reject you, but in a single night, you made them your own. I believe they'd follow you anywhere.'
With that, she bade them a good night and retired to her chambers, obviously taxed by all the excitement. Benjin and Catrin followed Millie back to their apartments, and she closed the door behind herself as she left. Catrin was about to seek her bed when Benjin emerged from the other room looking like the cat that caught the bird. He carried her staff behind his back and approached her.
'Before you go off to sleep, there is one more gift for you. This is from your grandmother and I,' he said as he presented the staff to her. She was uncertain why he would gift her with her own staff, but then she saw the noonstones gleaming in the eyes of the serpent. 'I hope you don't mind. I knew you needed some way to have the stones accessible, and this seemed fitting.'
Indeed, it was as if the staff had been waiting for the stones, and together, they completed the whole.
'It's perfect,' she said.
Chapter 23
To persevere when all seems lost is the most courageous act.
Dressed as a peasant, Lissa watched as the parade of carriages prepared to leave Ravenhold, and she could barely contain the growl that threatened to escape her throat. An imposter, a usurper, and worse was riding in her place to Adderhold. Only days before, Lissa had returned to overhear tales of Catrin, the savior of Mundleboro. Unable to bear the taste, she spit.
How could her grandmother betray her in such a way? She had run away to prevent the marriage between the Mangst and Kyte families. Why would her grandmother send a stranger in her place?
'Pure madness,' she muttered through clenched teeth. Torn, she tried to decide what to do next. If she let this Catrin go in her stead, all she had gone through would be for naught. Yet if she tried to stop it, she would reveal herself, and Morif would probably take her to Adderhold in chains.
Lissa did not relish the thought of their next meeting, certain he was furious with her for leaving. He was always going on about how her actions hurt Millie. Lissa didn't care about Millie at that moment, though, as the carriages began to roll. Her last chance to act was at hand and she stood, frozen. Unable to move or speak, she simply watched until the carriages disappeared from view.
The journey to Adderhold was only slightly less miserable than it would've been on foot. The carriage jostled constantly over the uneven roads, or it sat waiting for the crowds of people clogging the roads to disperse. Catrin was struck by the resentment her passing brought about. People cursed them, rotten vegetables were thrown at the carriages, and murderous looks followed them. These people had not been at the celebration, and they had no reason to love her. The dozen guards assigned by Catrin's grandmother did what they could to control the situation, and Catrin insisted none of them harm any of the people, but it was difficult for them to comply as many altercations broke out.
Her people's despair brought Catrin physical pain, and she found the yoke of responsibility terribly difficult to bear. She had almost grown accustomed to feeling responsible for the people of the Godfist. It was a natural role that any citizen would feel compelled to fill, but her responsibility for the people of the Greatland was suffocating. The entire known world's future depended on her actions, and it appeared many would die no matter what she did.
Shifting in her seat, she adjusted the folds and layers of her skirt, which seemed to bunch under her no matter how she sat.
Benjin scowled, as he had been wont to do of late.
'What are you thinking?' Catrin asked.
'Hmm. Well, I was just trying to understand the relative disappearance of Vestrana agents across the Greatland. Of the inns we have encountered, only two offered any indication of the Vestrana, and even those signals were mixed. I suppose the times are much more dangerous these days, and it may be that they have become more secretive because of infiltration. It's mostly unimportant now since we've secured our entrance to Adderhold.'
Adderhold. Catrin imagined a place crawling with snakes and scorpions, a dark and evil place that waited to consume her. She knew it was foolish to let her imagination run wild, and the visions were probably far worse than what actually awaited her, but a contagious dour mood blanketed those around her. Millie rode in a carriage with two other serving women, but each time they were together, she seemed more nervous and fretful than the last. She feared everything from an ambush to poisoned food, and the fact that her fears were plausible put their entire party on edge.
Along the Inland Sea, the lands were clogged with ragged campsites, and a foul stench hung in the air. The roads impossibly jammed, their caravan was forced to move overland through a maze of disarray. The twined roses on the doors of their carriages became a liability as angry mobs, made up of those from Mundleboro and Lankland alike, left their bonfires to express their displeasure to the exposed nobility. Scuffles broke out between the mobs and her guards, but mostly cold iron kept the peace. As they neared the docks, though, the mass of people became denser, and the spaces between campsites were not wide enough to admit them passage.
A writhing mass of humanity stood between them and the road, which was as impassable as the clogged meadows, for it was jammed with people. They were only a short distance from the dock, but reaching it seemed impossible. One brave guard rode ahead to seek the officials at the docks; he was hard pressed, but he rode aggressively. Most moved out of his way; those who moved too slowly he pushed out of the way.
An uproar rolled across the meadows, and many shook their fists in the air as a mounted detachment plowed through campsites on their way to the carriages. Men became bold and rocked the carriages back and forth, and one man was fatally kicked by one of the horses drawing Catrin's carriage. Visions of assassins closing in around her gave Catrin the chills, and she clutched her staff, ready to defend herself. Within the confines of the carriage, though, there was no room to maneuver. Catrin felt trapped. Benjin's short sword was cleared from its scabbard, and he'd already reached for the door at least a dozen times, but he remained within the carriage.
Surrounded by guards and dock officials, they began a painfully slow procession through scattered remains of campsites, and Catrin doubted these people would love her as those at her majority banquet had. How could she blame them? She'd always disliked those who thought themselves more important than she. Her passage was a necessity, though, and this affront was simply unavoidable. The gathered crowd booed loudly as Catrin and her guards were escorted onto a waiting ferry. No one else was allowed to board with them, and hundreds were forced to wait for the next ferry.
