by Shari Cross
“You can’t possibly know that.” I shake my head and push myself off the bed.
“I may not know with certainty what the outcome of this will be. But I know you. And I know you won’t give in to the anger, helplessness, and fear that you feel. There was a time when I gave in and let those emotions control me. But then I found hope. You brought me hope. Hope that I could be happy again. And from that hope I learned to take control, to act. And you and Addalynne are the same. The determination and conviction that you both have will save her and bring her back to you. That should give you hope. And it does. The hope is inside you. It’s what’s keeping you from giving up. That’s how I know you won’t lose her.”
I walk to the balcony, and stare at the never ending forest surrounding Synereal. She’s out there now. Hopefully making her way to me. Hopefully keeping Charles away from her, but deep down I know how small the chance of her arriving unscathed is. He’s probably hurting her as we speak. “Maybe you’re right. But I can’t feel it. I can’t find anything inside me apart from the absolute terror and rage.”
“It’s there. Believe in yourself and you’ll find it.”
I turn to face him and our eyes meet. That’s when I see it—fear. It’s written in his eyes. “Try to get some rest,” he says, and then he exits the room, leaving me in solitude.
* * *
“Stop pacing, Drake. You’re making my head hurt,” Gregory mumbles grumpily. I shift my gaze toward him, but don’t falter in my strides. He’s sitting on a wooden bench that’s near the heavily draped canopy bed of my chambers. His elbows are resting on his knees, his head in his hands. He’s anxious. Anxious. Is that what I am? No. I don’t know what I feel right now. Fear, anger, concern, dread, guilt, anxiety, confusion, restlessness—every possible negative emotion is in me, burning me alive.
Where is she? It’s been five days since I spoke with King Theoderic, and the rest of Faygrene, including the Troyers, arrived two days ago. Today is the opening day of the tournament. But they still aren’t here.
Uncertainty gnaws in my stomach, and I move to the exterior balcony. I stop and grip my hands tightly around the wooden railing. Far down below, the outer streets of the city wind around the castle. They’re lined by ivory stone walls, and from this distance, they resemble spirals. People are scrambling about, preparing for the tournament that will begin with or without the guests of honor.
I should have never left without her. If only I had insisted she come with me, then I would have her here, safe by my side. Instead, I’m here without her, my mind reeling with possibilities, endless scenarios that all end with me losing her. I can’t stay here.
“We have to look for her,” I say, loud enough for Gregory to hear me across the room.
“Drake.” He pauses, letting out a long breath. Here it comes—the voice of reason. “We wouldn’t know where to start. We have to be patient. I’m sure the business Charles spoke of is just taking longer than planned. They’ll be . . .”
“Do not say they’ll be arriving soon!” I shout while turning to face him. His head raises out of his hands, his face hardened with irritation. “You know as well as I do that something’s wrong. We can’t sit here and do nothing! She needs us! Your sister needs us!”
“Don’t speak to me as though I don’t care about Addalynne!” he shouts, rising to his feet and moving toward me. “And don’t think for one-second that I wouldn’t do anything to find her, to make sure she’s safe!” He steps onto the balcony, his eyes burning with rage. Good. He should be angry. We’re the ones who are supposed to protect her, and we left her with a predator. “You’re not the only one who loves her, Drake. I have loved her and vowed to protect her since the day she was born. Don’t you see that I’m also going crazy with thoughts of her being injured, or worse?” His voice breaks, and I have to turn away from him, setting my gaze back on the people moving about the streets. “I would already be looking for her, Drake, if we had a clue where to begin, but we don’t, and leaving won’t do us any good. We have to stay until we have more information.”
I hold my tongue. Any argument would be futile. I know he’s right, but it still infuriates me. My hands wrap tighter around the wood, squeezing until I feel a piercing pain in my hand. I lift my hand up. There’s a jagged piece of wood sticking out of it, its sharp tip impaled in the center of my palm. I watch the blood trickle down, and then Gregory grabs my hand, pulling it toward him. He rips out the wood, and more blood pours out, spilling faster. I watch in silence as Gregory wraps my hand with a white cloth and curses at me for being such a “reckless fool.” He shouldn’t be surprised; recklessness seems to be what I’m good at.
* * *
“Try to get some sleep.” That’s what Walter Cromwell said when supper ended in the Great Hall. He’s still a member of the King’s Schild and has been trying to keep Gregory and me informed on any news. There’s been none, but he promised to retrieve me if anything changed.
Try to get some sleep. His words would be laughable if humor were even a remote possibility.
I look at the nightclothes that have been left on the bed for me and throw them to the floor. I’m not going to change. I need to be ready to leave at a moments notice. I lie on my back and twirl my dagger precariously through my fingers. Looking down on me is a sheer, light blue fabric, draped over the tall wooden posts of the bed. Blue has always been my favorite color on Addy, bringing out the fairness of her skin and the subtle blush in her cheeks. I imagine how she would look, lying with me on this blue bed, and a flood of desire burns through me. But my next feeling is one of nausea. How can I think of her in that way when I don’t even know if she’s alive? My only thoughts should be of finding her; my only feelings should be of worry, not lust. Still, I can’t turn it off, and the desire mixes painfully with the worry, guilt and anger. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on breathing, telling myself repeatedly that I will find her.
I move through the crowded streets of the market, disquiet humming through my body. I look around me, searching, desperate. My feet take me farther, heading out of the village and toward the line of the woods. Movement. Something blue melts back into the trees. I sprint into the woods and run through the trees, looking frantically beyond the trunks scattered around me. Something rustles behind me. I turn and my breath solidifies in my throat. It’s her. Her long hair spills over her shoulders, falling around the curves of her body that are hidden behind a blue dress. Her amber eyes meet mine; they’re frighteningly empty, lost. “Addalynne!” I run toward her, but she turns away from me, moving inhumanly fast through the woods, disappearing through the trees. I try to follow her, and she again comes into view, but this time her back is turned toward me and she’s facing the Glass River. “Addy!” I run toward her, reaching for her. She turns back and gives me a haunting smile before plunging into the water. I reach the bank and jump, only to be slammed back to the ground. A shimmering veil hovers in front of me, trapping me here. Through the translucent rippling, I see her. She has emerged from the river and is standing on the southern side, in Incarnadine. I scream for her to come back, but my voice echoes off the clear wall and vibrates back into my own ears. I continue to yell her name as I pound, kick and punch at the invisible barrier that’s blocking my way. I watch her move farther and farther into the Faenomen Forest, until I can no longer see her.
“Drake!” I fly into a sitting position, my hair matted to my forehead and neck with sweat, my hands trembling. Looking around frantically, I see blue blankets tangled under my feet. I blink rapidly, waiting for the trees to come back, for her to come back. Confusion sifts through my mind, tangling my reality with the vividness of the dream, and with a painful clench of my heart, I remember where I am.
“Drake!” a voice calls again, and I realize that Walter is standing in the open doorway of my chambers. I try to find my voice, but his presence and the memory of my dream have left me speechless. “They have arrived.” Addy.
I jump off the bed and sprint ou
t the door, only partially noticing the apprehensive look on Walter’s face. I race down the stairs and don’t stop until I’m skidding to a halt inside the Great Hall.
The King’s Schilds and the Berrengers’ guards are gathered around who I can only assume are the Berrengers and Addy. My Addy. I push my way through the masses, approaching the front of the congregation, but hands wrap around my shoulders, stopping my progress. I try to shake off whoever has a hold of me while I search the scene in front of me, but their grip only tightens. It’s not necessary because what I see immobilizes me. Charles is speaking with one of King Theoderic’s Schilds. He looks badly beaten and has a four-inch-long, stitched gash on the side of his face. But that doesn’t matter; all that matters is what I see behind him. It’s a wooden coffin, and Addalynne is nowhere in sight. My eyes glaze over in a dizzyingly dark haze, my vision narrowing in on the wood. It’s as though I can see her through it, her face pale and lifeless, her lids closed over her eyes, sealing them off from me forever. She can’t be dead . . . this isn’t real. My hand trembles and I reach for the sword on my hip. Not her . . . I’ll kill him . . . please don’t let this be happening . . . wake up . . . wake up, Drake . . . this is just a nightmare . . . wake up . . . I’m going to kill him. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, a voice whispers in my ear. I try to block it out, but one part manages to get through to me.
“Not her . . . Vernold . . . died before they left.” Not her . . . not her. The words begin to register and I’m able to focus on who’s speaking them and who’s holding me back—Gregory. It’s not her . . . she’s alive . . . she’s alive. I remove my hand from my sword and shake Gregory off. Gregory’s grip reluctantly loosens, and I once again search for her, but she’s nowhere.
“Where is she?” I shout, my voice livid with anger, my gaze fixing on Charles. He turns to me, his eyes widening, partly in surprise, partly in amusement.
“Well, what have we here? Arrest him.”
My hand reaches toward my sword as several of his guards approach me. I welcome them forward, eager to kill every one of them.
“Stop!” King Theoderic’s voice booms as he enters the Great Hall. Everyone simultaneously drops to the floor in a bow. I do as well, but my sight remains fixed on Charles and his men, my fingers dancing along the hilt of my sword. “You have no authority here, Lord Berrenger. Besides, Drake Walton has been temporarily pardoned. His arrest will be mine to make if I deem it necessary,” he continues while we rise to our feet.
“Your Grace, this boy is my prisoner!”
“Not anymore,” King Theoderic asserts while walking toward Charles. He stops several feet away from him.
“Your Grace! I implore you to see reason! The boy tried to murder me! He—”
“I have been fully informed of what transpired between you and Walton, among other things.” King Theoderic interrupts Charles. “Now, I need to have a word with your Lady. Where is she?” Charles’s face flashes with momentary panic before concealing itself in a mask of pained calculation. Anger burns through my blood as I wait in torment for his words.
“While we were traveling, we were attacked by woodland nomads. They killed one of my guards and rendered me unconscious. When I awoke, she was gone. They took her.”
I run at Charles, my body colliding with his and taking us both to the ground. His head slams into the cold marble floor and I pull out my dagger, placing it against his throat.
“What did you do to her?” I shout while pressing the dagger against his skin. A single drop of blood trickles out and Charles’s eyes narrow into slits. Commotion spreads around me, but I don’t care. All that exists in this moment is me, Charles, and the dagger between us. Without warning, hands grip my shoulders. I struggle as they pull me off him, but there are several men holding me, and within seconds, they have my arms behind my back and my body restricted. My chest is heaving, my breaths coming in ragged bursts. I turn my head and see Gregory. The tip of his sword is pressed against the chest of Charles’s right hand man, Henry. Henry’s sword is also drawn, the tip hovering directly over Gregory’s heart. They are halted in a fatal stalemate. One quick move by either one of them will end in death.
“That’s enough!” King Theoderic shouts. His face is flushed with anger as he looks from me to Gregory. Gregory and Henry slowly lower their swords and step back from each other, their eyes stationed menacingly on one another’s retreating forms. Charles has risen to his feet and is standing with his arms crossed arrogantly over his chest.
“One day it will be just you and me, and no one will be able to save you,” I speak venomously, glaring at Charles. King Theoderic turns and heads straight toward me, stopping with only an inch of space between us, our eyes level with each other. I don’t look away. Instead I hold his steady blue gaze with mine, watching the anger twitch behind his eyes.
“I said, that’s enough, Drake,” he speaks sternly. Leaning closer, he places his mouth near my ear. “Stop testing my boundaries. I bent the law by pardoning you once. I cannot pardon you twice.” He turns away from me and moves toward his throne. “Please see Mr. Walton and Mr. Troyer to their chambers.” He takes his seat and lets his eyes settle on me. “Your families will join you shortly.” With a single nod, Gregory and I are escorted out of the Great Hall, while everyone else, including Charles, remains.
Chapter 35
HIM
“He’s lying! How can King Theoderic not see that? She wasn’t taken by woodland nomads! He did something to her!” I shout furiously, my hands tightening into fists in my hair. My head is pounding and my vision burns around me in an anger-induced haze.
“I’m sure he suspects that, Drake. But without proof, he has no other choice than to accept Charles’s version of what happened.” My father addresses me, but I don’t turn to face him. “Not without any witnesses to speak otherwise.”
“That’s because the only witnesses are Charles’s men. They’ll never contradict him,” I counter.
Genoveve, Robert, Elizabeth and my father have now joined Gregory and me. My father fully informed Genoveve and Robert about Charles before they came to my chambers. I can feel their eyes on me, pitying me. I don’t want their pity, though—I want their resentment. They should be as angry at me as I am at myself for not keeping her safe.
“What I still can’t wrap my head around is why she didn’t tell us the truth from the beginning.” Robert voices his thoughts, his words etched with pain and regret. “Had I known, I would have never allowed this to happen.”
But I did. Robert’s words are like an arrow to the stomach, causing me to exhale sharply. I sense him approach and soon feel his hand on my shoulder.
“That’s not what I meant, Drake. We all know that there was nothing you could have done. You need to stop blaming yourself. This was my fault. I arranged it, and I should have been the one to stop it.”
“You couldn’t have, Father.,” Gregory responds solemnly. “There was nothing you could have done to convince Addalynne to tell you the truth. This is my fault. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t act on it until it was too late.”
I watch the clouds passing overhead, my hands resting on the balcony. I can’t look at them, not while they assign blame on everyone but me.
“You and Drake did everything you could, Gregory. You devised a plan to help Addalynne, and tried to keep the rest of our family safe,” Genoveve says to Gregory, her voice hollow. “You were paying attention to what mattered.” There’s a tonality to her voice that sounds like Addalynne. It crushes me. “We should have seen it, Robert. How could we have been so blind? We knew she wasn’t herself. We knew something was wrong. Yet we looked the other way, our sole focus on the fact that she was going to be the Lady of Faygrene. We told ourselves that this was going to be best for her and that she would be happy. What we should have done was see what was staring us in the face—what these kids were able to do, but we were not.”
I hate that she’s grouping me into the category of people who kn
ew and saw what was best for Addalynne. The only thing I knew was how best to anger her: by courting Jacqueline. If Gregory hadn’t cornered me and told me of his suspicions, I would have been as ignorant as everyone else.
“I’ll never forgive myself for letting her down, for not being there for her when she needed me most,” Genoveve continues, her agonized voice speaking the same thoughts that torment my own mind.
“There’s no reason for this conversation,” my father halfheartedly shouts. A crow flies across the sky and lands on one of the balconies across from me. It stretches out its wings and carefully scans the ground. I watch its movements, while my father’s voice continues to drift through my ears. “What’s done is done, and Addalynne wouldn’t have had it any other way. She would sacrifice herself a thousand times over to save any one of us. We all know that. And as much as we detest that quality in her, it will never change. All we can do now is figure out a way to find her and bring her back home.”
Part of my mind traces the idea that she may have run from Charles, but I quickly push it away, knowing that if she had, she would have come here. She would have found us. Besides, something’s wrong, I can feel it, as firmly as I feel the stones at my feet.
“Charles is leading the expedition to look for her,” Robert comments. This gets my attention. I turn around, and their eyes fall to me, waiting for my reaction.
“Tell me you’ve been misinformed.” My words come out in a near growl, my fingers clenching so tightly into fists at my sides that my nails pierce through the skin on my un-bandaged hand.
“I wish I were. They’re gathering a group now and will be setting out at dawn.”
“He’s not going to try to find her!” I shout, while telling myself that Robert is wrong. Somehow he misunderstood. Sending Charles to look for Addalynne is as beneficial as sending a thief to reveal the whereabouts of his stolen jewels. “Maybe he’s telling the truth. He did look distraught,” Robert says quietly. I’m too stunned for words. After everything we have told him, he’s still blinded by his loyalty to the Berrengers. I glare at him, hatred building inside of me. I know it’s misplaced, but I can’t contain the resentment his words have created. His face floods with shame and he looks down at the brown rug beneath his feet. Setting my sight on the door, I move past them, ignoring them when they call out to me. There’s only one person I want to speak to right now. As soon as the door shuts behind me, I run.
