Petrified, he read on.
He’s still here. Gregori, his name is. I can hear him now, walking around and mumbling to himself downstairs in the guest chamber. I stumbled into him last night, luckily without incident. I stared at him across the room, and it was like I could feel the things he’d seen, the things he’d done. I was so scared, Roy. All I wanted, all Iwant, is to come see you. I can’t stand being in the same place as that horrid man. He’s like a beast.
I think it’s safe to say the war did something to him. He stands out in the cold, unblinking. He stares at his reflection and talks to himself, and he uses different features, different accents and voices. These strange noises... Sometimes I wake to sounds in the middle of the night—howls and yips, like a wolf. Other times, he’ll trudge back and forth out in the snow, repeating to himself in this gravelly, slurred voice, “I passed the tests! I passed the tests!”
Last night, I heard something scratching on the other side of the wall, like some creature was trying to crawl its way through and onto my bed. This obviously wasn’t the first time he’s acted strangely, so I was reluctant to see, but I mustered the courage eventually to visit his chambers again. There, I found him clawing at the walls. His hands were bloodied, his nails torn to shreds, and by the time I’d entered the room, he’d begun to gnaw on the plaster. His teeth were rotting, and his gums were bloody stubs.
He hasn’t laid a finger on me—not yet, I should say—but something makes me wonder if he would even register anything if he did. He could strike me, slap me, or do much worse, and I suspect he wouldn’t remember any of it.
“By the fucking Above,” Percival whispered, pointing a trembling finger at the letter. “‘I passed the tests!’ Is that what the Radiant Droves have been doing to their soldiers? Experimenting on them?” He passed Roy a questioning look.
But Roy was speechless. He couldn’t stop reading now. Something had seized him, a sort of morbid fascination.
It makes me think, too, of the Old Ones. I have heard from Irene Larifor—one of my dearest friends at Rasileus Academy, and whose parents are advisers for the Governor—that three of the Old Ones’ five squadrons have relocated in front of the gates to the Iron Citadel. Why, I do not know. Irene speculated that it’s an incoming attack, but I’m not so sure. These soldiers slaughtered their way through southern Northgard, yet apparently, they have made no move against the Droves’ barracks. They’re just standing there, motionless. It’s plain bizarre.
I hope Irene is safe, Roy. Sheandher family, despite their political leanings. Before the snowstorm, she and I would always meet at Rasileus’s rose gardens before our lectures. She’d always bring me a morning treat from her local vendor, wearing this big, beautiful smile. Then, as word spread of the weather’s worsening conditions, I told Irene wemustwrite to one another. I couldn’t fathom a day without knowing how she was faring, and now I cannot fathom a day without knowing if she is alive.
I understand the perils I could face if it is discovered that Irene and I have been exchanging confidential military speculations via her parents’ meetings with the Governor and the Matron’s meetings with her captains here, but I’m out of options. To cover my tracks, Irene asked Tessa to convey this letter to you. Irene let Tessa borrow her mother’s spare emissary uniform, and their family’s horse, while her parents were at their lodgings in the Citadel. I’m sorry if her appearance alarmed you.
And I’m sorry, again, that I resorted to the worst scenario. Irene’s parents are currently in the early stages of an extensive conference with the Governor, Mother, and his other associates. They’ll be there for the next few weeks, so I hope you and I can trade letters relatively undetected. Tessa has even committed to riding to the Basilica every second day, which should be enough time for you to compose a reply—and, of course, Irene has been perfect as ever...
I know this is a little irrelevant to our cause, and that I may be wasting time by telling you this, but you’re my brother, and it would feel wrong to keep this from you, especially since we have been apart for so long.
Something changed between Irene and me. Something beautiful and miraculous. I thought I was imagining things, that the cold winds had gotten to my head, but there was no mistaking the hearts she started drawing at the bottom of each page, or the way she talked about playing with my hair, holding my hand, tracing the scar on my thumb I got when I tumbled onto that frozen creek near Rasileus Academy. I’m scared of change, of how it can make you into someone you’re not, but this one doesn’t seem so bad.
Anyway, I hope this gets to you. I have done this all for you, Roy. I wish I could see you and hug you, but I suppose this will do for now.
Much love,
Briar
Roy had thought that, for the most part, he was doing a fine job containing his emotions, but when he reached the conclusion of Briar’s letter, he lost his composure. He buried his head in his hands and burst into great, chest-racking tears. He sobbed so hard, so forcefully, that his temples were throbbing and his shoulders were convulsing. After a moment, Percival pulled Roy toward him, wordlessly cupping the back of his skull, and placed Roy’s forehead on his shoulder. Roy leaned into Percival and wrapped his left arm around his waist.
Once the tears had dwindled to a trickle, Roy sat up, gently pushed Percival away, and kneaded his pounding temples with his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Percival said, softer than Roy had ever heard from him. He rubbed the back of his neck, his lips pursed.
“She’s in danger, Percival,” Roy whispered, running a hand down his face. “The Governor’s going to find out about her sending this letter, and I’m not surewhat’shappened to Gregori, what experiments he’s undergone, but...” A cold shiver went through him. “Oh, by the Above, what if he goes after her? Why would Dimestra send someone like this to guard Briar? What if—”
“I don’t know about the Governor, nor about the Matron,” Percival said with desperate reassurance, “but perhaps one of the maids or butlers will do something about Gregori.” He didn’t sound at all persuaded by this, though.
“What could theydo?” Roy asked, a humorless laugh escaping him. He wiped away his tears. “I just hope Briar stays safe for the next few days, just until we can draft a response and deliver it to Tessa.”
Percival seemed about to grab and squeeze Roy’s hand, then stopped himself. “From the sound of it, Briar and her accomplices have concocted this plan rather meticulously. I would like to see the Governor get ahold of her and Irene’s communications.”
Roy mulled this over, nodding absently at first and then with increasing conviction. Briarhadorganized her machinations—alongside her conspirators, Tessa and Irene—with an acute eye for detail. She had considered the conditions, chiefly relying on Irene’s parents’ lodgings, and arranged her plot around the most important variables.
Roy wished he had his sister’s perception, which he was sure she must’ve inherited from their mother. More, he wished he could use the information Briar had provided and somehow twist it in his favor. He wished he could make his missionheresomething he could actually accomplish, make it so the Governor wasn’t holding an ax above all their necks...
“What are we going to tell her?” Roy asked. “That we’ve found a sword? That we met the ghost of a philosopher? That the Old Ones have been adhering to the violent habits of their ancestors, who’ve been battling in wars the world over for generations? It’s new information, sure, but it won’t stop, or even put a temporary halt to, the war.”
“You’re saying wedon’trespond to Briar?”
Roy sighed. “I’msayingthat it has been almost three months since we arrived. We have no clue when the Governor will return for his next check-in, and there are three more months until our deadline. I hate to say it, but maybe... maybe we need to figure out if we even have time for this.”
“This is your sister we’re talking about, darling,” Percival said, a glum look coming over his face. “She’s just as important as our research—maybe more so. You said yourself that you were doing this for the people of Northgard, and specifically for your sister, so you could see her. You must never forget that.”
That decided Roy. He needed no more incentive.
