“But, Cal—”
The elusive Cal, the rebel leader. Everyone speculated he was someone from the late queen’s family. Queen Callye died before I was born, but the stories were that she helped the people. Of course, Irdelron killed her and sent her entire family to the front lines of the war to be slaughtered. Even their son was sent off to battle when he came of age. His own son.
The rebels had taken up her family name, and the leader was our one hope for salvation, or so everyone older than me said. “No one even knows who Cal is. No one knows what he looks like, not even Dyter. He sends messages by courier and never the same one twice. We don’t know if Cal is even his real name.”
Despite the rebel meetings Dyter held at The Crane’s Nest, my involvement was half-hearted at best. I mean, I wanted Dyter and Arnik to win, and I wanted to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Cal, but I wasn’t itching to fight. I’d do my part if it came to it. But it seemed like a hopeless cause. No one could defeat the king’s Drae.
I tugged Arnik to the door. “Dyter says Cal will only reveal himself to those he knows are loyal, so you can’t keep bringing new people in. If you want to meet him, you’re going to have to stop.”
I pushed the door open, and the moonlight settled upon my shoulders. My insides shuddered with yearning, a sensation that was growing stronger every day. I longed to step over the threshold into the night. Resisting the urge, I instead pulled myself back to the present. “You don’t have to agree, but you should show Dyter some respect. He’s higher up in the ranks than you.” As in, you’re barely in the ranks.
Arnik leaned forward and whispered, “All this talk of Cal . . . Don’t you want to see him? Do you really believe we can overthrow the entire kingdom because of one man?” He sounded doubtful. “The king has Lord Irrik, after all, and Cal is no Drae.”
There was only one Drae in Verald, so that was obvious. I shivered. Talk of Lord Irrik gave me the willies. “Be careful walking back,” I said, glancing at the beautiful, silky night. “You heard Dyter. The Drae has been spotted in the skies.”
“Do you think he’ll incapacitate me with his magic breath and chew on my bones?” Arnik asked.
I snorted and shoved him out the door, but cold terror shot through me at the line from our mothers’ stories. If the Drae was flying in the dark sky, Arnik wouldn’t even see him until it was too late. Drae could shift from dragon to man, or vice-versa, in the blink of an eye.
Arnik took a few steps and turned back, hands shoved in his pockets. “I won’t bring any more friends, but tell Dyter to stop being an old fool,” he said, oblivious to my fear of the Drae. “We need all the help we can get for the rebellion, even if it is from the third son of Tal.”
I had no desire to do dishes for the rest of my life, so I’d say nothing of the sort. I was getting tired of being stuck in the middle of these two. With a sigh, I shook my head at my friend.
A small, half smile pulled at his lips as he took the few steps back. Placing his hand against my cheek, he said, “I’m sorry, Rynnie.”
His skin was warm, and although the gesture was foreign to our friendship, there was comfort in Arnik’s touch.
“I shouldn’t put you between us,” he murmured. Without waiting for a response, he gave me a boyish wink and slipped into the laneway, his dark clothing blending with the thick shadows from the neighboring stone buildings. His golden hair reflected the moonlight, a beacon for only a second before he pulled his dark hood up, covering his head.
I’d heard Lord Irrik could hear a person exhale from a mile away and could see the warmth within a human body when all sunlight was gone. It was unlikely a cap would help, but it made me feel a little better.
I tossed my rag over my shoulder and went back inside.
Dyter had made quick work of the cleanup. The bench seats were all stacked. I suspected the tables hadn’t been wiped. They’d be sticky by morning from the ale and stew, but I couldn’t lift the benches myself, and Dyter wouldn’t shift them a second time tonight. I’d just have to wipe the spots I could get to. Teamwork at its finest.
Dyter pushed through the swinging door with a mop and a pail. He grinned, and the scar on the left side of his face pulled his upper lip higher so he looked like he was snarling maniacally. “How worked up was the lad?” he asked with a chuckle. “Truthfully.”
I scrubbed at the wood smoothed from generations of elbows and sliding tankards. “You always stir him up and leave me to deal with it.”
I stomped past him to the next table, but he laughed, and I had to work to hide my amusement. I’d known Dyter longer than Arnik, as far back as my memory went. The tavern owner was part father, part uncle, and part friend. He’d helped Mum settle in when she’d arrived in Verald—when I was a baby—and he’d been close to us ever since.
We cleaned the bar area in silence, the familiar companionship its own brand of communication. But the meeting tonight was still a burning mystery to me, and when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer, I asked, “How did it go?”
Sure enough, he grinned his lip-pulling snarl. “How did what go?”
I threw my rag at his face.
He gave mercy, tossing me the soiled cloth back. “Oh, the rebel meeting? It went well.” He paused before amending with, “Very well. Now is the time to overthrow King Irdelron and the House of Ir. I feel it. The king is desperate to find something to end the famine, and it weakens him.”
“He cares about ending the hunger?” Contradictory, considering his brutality.
“He cares about staying alive and keeping his arse on the throne, Ryn. There are many things you can do to people without them rebelling, but starving them isn’t on the list. As cruel and rich as King Irdelron is, he’s not an idiot. The situation is nearing a boiling point. More people have joined our cause in the last three months than the last three years.”
I thought about the last few months as I scrubbed at the sticky ale. Nothing seemed different. People were starving now, just like they had been last year and the year before that. “How do you know he’s desperate?”
“You haven’t noticed the extra soldiers?” Dyter stopped his cleaning to raise his brows. “What about the extra beatings?”
I shook my head, averting my gaze. I wasn’t really into the rebellion, but I should’ve noticed extra beatings.
Dyter pursed his lips and leveled me with a serious stare. “What about the giant black Drae circling the skies?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course.” Only, I hadn’t. Mild anxiety pushed the next question from my lips. As much as I liked to tease about Dyter being an old coot, he was like family. “In that case,” I continued, “are you sure you should be having rebel meetings here?”