It didn’t seem like Silas knew what to say to that, or that he expected Ava to be so forgiving—it was a shock even to me—but his eyes filled with tears. He tried to blink them away, and when that didn’t work, he sniffled, nodding for a moment for lack of a better response. It took a minute for him to collect himself, and during that time, Ava turned and trudged back to me. She offered the smallest of smiles, looking somewhat unsure of herself, as though perhaps she wasn’t certain I’d be satisfied with how charitable she’d been.
However, while I was shocked, it shouldn’t have been unexpected. Ava had always been kind, and forgiving, and far more reasonable than anyone deserved. To assure her that the compassion she gave was her own to offer, even if I couldn’t offer mine, I returned that small smile in spite of the somberness of my mood.
Silence hovered for a while before Silas’s gaze returned to me. “And you, Kiena?” he asked, eyes dewing with fresh tears. “You’ve not remained in my presence without purpose.”
Thus far, I’d been so able to remain disconnected and cold to keep from growing angry like I had the first time I came here. But the look in his eyes, the pure guilt which I could see so clearly now that I wasn’t motivated by rage, it broke my heart all over again. I couldn’t have been angry if I tried. I wished I could be as kind and forgiving as Ava, because I wanted to be free of this pain, but forgiving him wouldn’t bring Albus back, and it wouldn’t change the last six months. So I swallowed down the searing emotion creeping through my chest before it could form a lump in my throat, and steeled myself in order to get through this.
“I have a job for you,” I said, unmoving from my stiff position. “If you want it.”
“Anything,” he replied. “Whatever you need.”
It came as no surprise, but I wasn’t ready to trust him with the task just yet, no matter how true I believed his guilt to be. “Six months ago,” I started, swallowing hard again at the pang of the reminder, “when Hazlitt sent riders to the cottage for Mother and Nilson, did you know?”
Silas’s eyes widened in horror, and the brim of tears in them deepened. “No.” He shook his head, not bothering to whisk away the single drop that slid down his cheek. “I swear to you, I had no idea. I never would’ve… Please, Kiena, you must know I’d never put them in harm’s way, they had nothing to do with this. I was afraid that day. There were soldiers and Hazlitt; fighting would’ve been death, and I was afraid, but I started doubting everything then. When he told you he sent riders, I—”
I held up my hand to silence him, because I didn’t want any more apology or explanation. I couldn’t take it. Couldn’t bear thinking that he’d been as scared of Hazlitt killing him as Ava or me. All I wanted were facts.
“If not you,” I asked as emotionlessly as I possibly could, “then who? Who knew and told him where our cottage was?”
Silas’s gaze fell with concentration, and his mouth hung open in preparation for giving an answer. It took him a minute, but then he glanced up at me. “The soldiers,” he said. “The day I came to take you to the castle. There were plenty of us at your cottage then, it had to have been one of them.” He paused for another moment in thought. “Oh, I know the one,” he said, his upper lip curling with disgust. “That bastard. He scaled the ranks far too quickly, leading raids on innocent villages. Hazlitt saw—” He stopped short at the disinterested look in my eyes, bowing his head in apology and saying, “I betrayed you, Kiena. I hurt you. I know that, and I’ll live with it, but not them. I’d have never involved Bibbette or Nilson, you have my word.”
Whether or not it was the soldier that Silas suspected, I believed he was telling the truth. “Have you any scars?” I asked.
“Scars?” Silas repeated. “I’ve plenty of scars…”
“Branding scars,” I said. “In the shape of a crow, given you by Hazlitt with or without your knowledge.”
His eyebrows furrowed with further dismay, and before I could explain any more, Ava turned her back to him. She grabbed the bottom of her tunic and lifted it up to her shoulder blades, exposing most of the blood red mark. It seemed more respectful instinct than timidity that caused Silas to turn his head so he couldn’t see, but it only took a moment for him to realize that Ava wanted him to see. He looked, and then he stared, his mouth steadily dropping open.
“H-Hazlitt did that to you?” he stuttered, a conflicted look of alarm and sympathy in his eyes, as if he was finally realizing that he had no true grasp of Hazlitt’s treachery toward Ava.
She let the garment fall back to her hips and turned around, nodding in reply.
“Do you have one?” I asked. “It may not be so large.” Silas blinked away his shock, only managing to meet my gaze and shake his head. But I was reluctant to be entirely convinced. “Show me.”
In full compliance, he pulled his tunic up and over his head, gripping it in his hand while he held his arms out. He turned slowly, allowing me to scan his arms, neck, chest, and back for a scar similar to Ava’s. There was none, and while some part of me was relieved that his will belonged to none but him, another part was stung by it. He finished his turn, and at seeing the mild satisfaction on my face, he put his tunic back on.
“We’re leaving tomorrow morning for Cornwall,” I told him, finally convinced enough to make my request. “You remember the old meadow?” I hesitated with the severe emotion the memory brought, of our lazy days hiding from his squire duties and my chores, and fought to bite it back. “Where we used to sneak away and—”
“I remember,” he interrupted, his lips pursing with an understanding smile, and in spite of myself, I was grateful that he wouldn’t make me explain. Wouldn’t make me linger on the pain of how close we’d been.
“I want you to take my mother and Nilson, and Akamar, the young prince of Ronan,” I paused only momentarily to see if he’d give a reaction at the inclusion of Akamar. There was none. “Take them to the meadow and keep them safe until this war is over.” And because there was no guarantee I’d even make it back, I added in a forced whisper, “As long as it takes.”
There was a long moment of hesitation, and I could read the surprise on his face. “You’d trust me with them?”
“My trust is in your abilities and your desire for absolution,” I answered. “Let me be clear, Silas,” I added, so he’d know that this wasn’t something to be taken lightly. Regardless of how much I believed in his skill, and his guilt-guided loyalty, I wasn’t doing this for him. And I truly wouldn’t have the strength to control my grief if he let something happen to my family. Thinking I’d lost them once was more than I could bear, and this was a warning, not a threat: “Do not accept this task unless you’d give your life protecting them, because if you fail, I will kill you myself.”
“They’re safe with me,” he said, without a hitch and with an earnestness that I could take comfort in. “For as long as it takes.”
I gave a shallow nod. “You leave at daybreak.” I waited a few short moments to see if he’d voice any questions, but he didn’t, and so I turned to leave. Ava and I retreated out the door of the dungeon, but before the guards could return to their posts and shut themselves in behind us, I stopped one of them. “Would you go and fetch the prisoner a meal from the festivities?” I asked him. Despite the fact that I couldn’t yet forgive Silas, or give him the chance he wanted to revive our friendship, he was giving me some grand peace of mind in accepting this task. Though I couldn’t express my gratitude in person, or in words, I hoped he would accept this much. “Choice portions and a mug of ale, if you’d please.”