A Girl in Black and White (Alyria Book 2)

by Danielle Lori

  I kept my eyes on his chest. “I have somewhere to be, so if you could please get on with it.”

  The church bell rang twice, announcing it was two in the morning—as if it were mocking the lie that I had anywhere to be at this hour. Stupid bell.

  Weston’s lips tipped up in both corners as if he heard that thought. But I knew he hadn’t. He couldn’t, not anymore. “Witches must have full social calendars to have plans this late.”

  “So full, I cannot keep up with it,” I said dryly.

  His expression turned almost playful. “How long has it been? A year? Since you practically ran right into my arms in Cameron.”

  My brows knitted tightly. “I did not run into your arms.” Technically, I did just that in that inn stairwell, but . . . semantics.

  “Arms, clutches, same thing. Lucky move for you, otherwise my brother would have killed you that first night.”

  “You only stopped him because you wanted me for your own nefarious plans. Don’t pretend to be the hero of this story.”

  “And who is the hero? Maxim?” he said with venom.

  “I am,” I snapped.

  His voice calmed to only the slightest of turbulent waters. “Yea, I suppose you are, aren’t you?”

  I averted my eyes, his gaze seeming to burn me.

  “The Kings’ Council was only alerted of who you were by an intercepted magic signal. It was going past Titan,” his eyes watched me as I put it together, “to the only other society known to be further than us.”

  The Shadows of Dawn.

  “And? There were many different types of people searching for me.”

  “No,” he said. “There was one magic signal, one, intercepted at different points all the way across the land to the Shadows.”

  The inhuman rider . . .

  That meant the human men, the Saccar, the Mages . . . and everyone else who Weston probably cheerfully murdered before I’d even noticed, had intercepted that one magic signal directed to the Shadows.

  My mind spun, and I had the urge to run, from him, from my problems, but I knew I wouldn’t get far from either. My heart beat, while trepidation filled my stomach, climbing up my throat. “I still don’t see why it matters. The Shadows is a dark place, it’s not a surprise they would put some kind of signal on me.”

  “It wasn’t a normal signal, Calamity.”

  I shivered at his use of my name. “Then what was it, if not a ‘normal’ signal, Weston?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “A call to home.”

  I pushed him away then, and he let me. It felt as if the air were being sucked out of my lungs, as anger pulsed in my stomach. Not necessarily at him, but at the truth. I’d known it for a while, and I realized it was stupid and childish of me for denying what was right in front of my face, but it was so repulsive of my nature to accept that what I was—wasn’t who I’d always known. That the dark part was real, swimming below the surface, a constant pressure under my skin. That human was no longer a word I could use to describe myself.

  It made sense, though—all of what he said. The cuffs? If I’d worn them since before I was Fated, that meant they were to hide me from something else . . . or someone else.

  “I’d suggest you read up on your people,” he said to my back as I stared down the dirt street. He said it like an insult, and it raised my hackles. Because what he was—whatever it was—was so much better?

  Something about where I came from had to do with my death and climbing my way out of it, and instead of denying it, I should have been studying the reasons why. I felt ridiculous now that I had to face it, and my blood heated with anger that Weston had to be the one to make me feel this way. “That isn’t who I am. The Shadows has been closed off for hundreds of years. No one can leave. It isn’t possible.”

  “Don’t lie to yourself. The only thing it’s going to do is get you killed for good.”

  I spun around. “What do you care! You’ve only saved me again and again for your own gain. Is that the plan, then? Try and get me to open the seal again?”

  He licked his lips, flicking his gaze away from me. “I’m done with that.”

  He was done with me. I heard the innuendo in his voice.

  How convenient that he could just ‘be done with me’ when he wanted, and when I wasn’t done with him, I didn’t get a say in the matter? When I realized what I’d just thought, I let out a frustrated breath. I was one misguided soul. “Moved onto some other nefarious plan to take over the world?” I asked, pushing away my fanciful—scratch that, suicidal—thoughts about Weston.

  “Something like that.”

  The pit spread and bent in my stomach, and I crossed my arms—somehow feeling as vulnerable around him as before when I couldn’t save myself. “Then what are you doing here? Wanted to see the spectacle in front of your eyes? Maybe I should travel with the menagerie so everyone can see the girl who died.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze running down my body, a burn traveling with it. “I can imagine a few people who would pay to follow you across the country.”

  My heart stilled, a warmth spreading beneath my skin. Why did he have to say things like that?

  And just like that, the breeze carried out the uncertainty, bringing with it something more enticing. A palpable current flowed between us; it was hot, intoxicating, and I just wanted to step into it. All in the name of closure. I would only have to take one step, and I’d be caught up in it.

  I teetered, the possibility pulling on my body as if I’d imbibed too much wine.

  Glancing up from the imaginary line of no return in the dirt, my eyes met a pair of indifferent ones. I wanted to shake him up. I wanted to see some of the passion he used to show me. Anger . . . anything I could get. I wanted to play with him.

  I took one step forward, crossing the line, and blinking the rain off my eyelashes as warm drops ran over my lips.

  It suddenly felt as if the roles were reversed. My captor’s indifference, and the scaling interest inside me. But there were always two sides to every story, and I was beginning to learn that maybe in his, the corruptor had never been him, but me.

  I glanced up under my eyelashes when I stood in front of him, so close that his jerkin brushed my bare arms.

  He looked down at me, nothing but slight suspicion in his gaze—that’s what he wanted me to see anyway.

  But just like so many times before, he blinked, and not fast enough to correct himself, there was a heated flicker I’d seen before. He still wanted me. And that idea gave me a dark rush.

  I thought back to this morning, how mundanely I’d gone through the routines, and to now, how life was vivid, cast under orange lantern light and the taste of temptation.

  The game seemed to cross lines and slip into reality when his rough voice rushed over me.

  “Trust me,” he said so softly, his gaze intensifying, “if you went there, you wouldn’t get out alive.”

  “Thanks to you, I’m used to that.”

  His eyes hardened, and my breaths shallowed at the reaction I saw up close.

  “Maybe I merely want to see what all the women at court boast about in those gossip rags.”

  He licked his lips thoughtfully before saying, “That blade you got tucked in your sandal? It would end up in my back when I least expected it . . . Princess,” he shook his head, running a thumb across my lip, “I don’t fucking trust you.” He said it like he was almost proud; interested and amused for sure.

  A shiver went through me at that use of my nickname. “It’s Girl in Black now.”

  Some amusement crossed his face. “Nah. You’ll always be Princess to me.” But then the soft stroke of his thumb changed and he pressed down on my bottom lip. “But Princess or not . . . burn down another one of my ships, and I promise you won’t like the outcome.”

  I watched his back as he walked away, as though he already forgot about me. As if he was a prince and I a mere commoner.

  I never expected it to go this way. Though, I’d neve
r been able to imagine exactly how it would. Would he go on as before, force me on another goose chase? Would he apologize for my death? Show remorse? Those were the possibilities that had always filled my mind. But threatening me and then walking away from me? It had never made the list. I never thought I’d see Weston’s back as he left me to my own devices, and for some reason, the feeling put weight on my chest.

  I should have been relieved. Thankful that he didn’t have any nefarious plans for me.

  But somehow it felt as if this wasn’t the closure I wanted. Needed.

  I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, uncertainty pressing down on me. And when I felt short of breath, I tossed the covers to the side and paced back and forth in front of my window.

  I grabbed the parchment on my desk, wet my quill, and added for the very last time an item to my ‘Reasons I Hate Weston’ list.

  It was number seventy-four.

  “Well, make it quick,” Magdalena said. “I need to go to Mother’s beforehand to get some coin for the festival today.”

  Agnes eyed the witch from her spot at the table, having just said she needed a word with us. “No one is leaving this room until I get answers from every one of you of what your choices are for All Sister’s Day. We’ll start with you, Magdalena.”

  The girl in question pursed her lips, but then one of the doormen walked through the room from the kitchens to the foyer. Magdalena’s eyes followed him, a smile overtaking her face. The unimpressionable blond close to my age smiled back, in an exchange that only two people who have slept with each other would do.

  Sinsara’s eyes narrowed on the scene and then widened with understanding as the doorman left the room. She shot Magdalena a look. “You whore!” She looked to Agnes in outrage. “She’s bloody been bedding him too. I’ve probably got the Pox!”

  The table erupted into laughter.

  “This isn’t amusing at all! Sarai! You better fix this,” Sin cried before rushing out of the room. Sarai was the healer and usually sympathetic, but she didn’t look so concerned this time while barely glancing up from her gossip rag and putting another grape in her mouth.

  Agnes closed her eyes for a moment, frustration lacing her voice. “She can be looked over after we’re done here.”

  Carmella’s gaze shot to Agnes. “Are you that unfeeling? She could have worse than the Pox knowing who Magdalena sleeps with. She could die!” Carmella jumped from her chair and pulled her sister from the room.

  Juli sighed. “Really, Magdalena. See the trouble you cause?”

  “Me! I didn’t force her to sleep with the doorman. She thinks she’s a queen anyway; what’s she doing with the help?”

  “Maybe she loves him! And you’re just tupping him like a whore!”

  “You know what, Juli? I’m sick of your ‘love, love, love’ crap. I’ll tup who I want. In fact, I think I’ll go find Alis right now!” Magdalena threw her napkin down before leaving the room.

  “Oh, no you don’t, you witch!” Juli shouted, chasing her out.

  Farah, Marlena, and I looked to Agnes who had her hands on her temples. There was a moment of silence before she spoke. “Don’t think you three will tell me what you’ve planned for All Sister’s Day?”

  We all shook our heads.

  “Right,” she muttered before grabbing the pitcher of wine and leaving the room.

  Banners hung from one building to the next. Women waved towels from high windows. The clop of horses’ hooves down Northie stone streets and city folks’ cheers filled the morning air.

  It seemed that every royal family was in attendance for the annual Kings Festival, even though the prince who was running this city was treasonous. And I wondered how normal this was for Alyria, with how blasé they seemed to be about the whole thing. It wasn’t like they could take Symbia back—not with Maxim’s two thousand men lining the streets and blocking the gates and ports.

  My eyes narrowed on Maxim as he rode by, Symbia’s Queen and Princess, their advisors, and the women in their court following behind.

  If you can’t beat ‘um, cheat ‘um. Why had I ever trusted Maxim’s word? At least nothing untoward had come of his big mouth. Yet.

  The girls all crowded me, trying to get a better view of the prince over some Untouchables’ heads, who were doing a great job of keeping the crowd contained. No one was stepping within a couple feet of them.

  Princess Luciana was even comelier in person . . . unfortunately. She rode side-saddle on a pearly white horse, her emerald green skirts cascading down the sides. I suddenly wondered if Weston called her Princess. Ugh, gross.

  “Calamity! Your mother at ten o’clock!” Juliana said.

  I paused, turning to look in the crowd.

  “Your other ten o’clock!”

  Oh.

  I turned in the other direction while hearing the girls’ laughter. My mother was indeed coming this way, with Clinton at her side. I’d rather do some bodily harm to myself than speak to my mother’s pledged right now. I immediately went in the other direction, squeezing through the tight crowd.

  I knew Clinton and my mother were going to force me to think about my future pledging, and I’d rather enjoy the first day of the festival.

  “Calamity!”

  I paused at the masculine voice, hesitating for a second before turning around.

  You see, a lot had happened to me over the past six months. And yet, I was still the same girl in a way. Innocent in regard to men. A virgin. It was laughable, really, being that I lived in a brothel. It wasn’t like I wanted to be, or that I was holding on to it for any particular reason. Virginity wasn’t held as a virtue in the Sisterhood; in fact, it was looked at like a weakness and was the reason I’d never shared my status with the other girls.

  It wasn’t that I wanted to rid myself of it because of that; it was because the girl I used to be was a virgin. The weak and naïve one. And I didn’t want to be her anymore.

  So, I might have gotten close to a stablehand who worked at the palace to finally absolve myself of it. Though, it never could get further than some harmless kisses. It should have been easy; at least that’s the way the girls made it seem while sleeping with doormen and sailors alike. But it wasn’t as simple as I believed. I was constantly overthinking everything, and anytime his hand went lower than my face I froze up, before making some excuse to leave.

  But now I’d gotten myself into a bind. I’d led this man on, and thinking I was a whore, he probably thought I was the biggest tease in Alyria. I was waiting for the day he just walked in the Royal Affair and offered to pay. I would compel him, of course, or maybe I would get the guts to finally do it.

  “William,” I said with a smile.

  He rolled his eyes, correcting me. “Will.”

  “Yea, yea,” I said as he threw a heavy arm over my shoulders and pulled me in for a half hug. “Keep walking,” I told him. “My mother’s at . . .” I frowned, not good with this whole time-direction thing, “five o’clock.”

  He turned his head in a different direction than I was going for. I sighed, some amusement rushing me. I grabbed his wrist hanging over my shoulder and pulled him down the alley.

  I didn’t know what it was. He was tall, strong, with a handsome almost boyish face. He was even polite, and only a year older than my twenty-one. He should have been the perfect man to get it over with. But, alas, there was something keeping me from it, and I couldn’t figure it out.

  “You can’t evade her forever, you know,” he told me, weaving us in and out of people’s way as they trickled through the alley. The streets went slightly uphill toward the palace, creating a maze of roads and alleyways; we’d run into the main route of the parade no matter which direction we headed.

  “I’m going to try. Don’t sound all high and mighty up there. Don’t tell me you’ve never evaded your mother.”

  “I haven’t,” he answered immediately. “She would beat my ass.”

  I let out a breath of amusement, shaking my head while im
agining his mother I’d seen once who was half his size with a quiet disposition. “That’s ridiculous.”

  His blue eyes glinted with amusement, pulling me closer with his arm around my neck. “You wouldn’t be laughing after one smack from that spoon of hers.”

  I laughed, glancing out at the street when my smile froze on my face, my heart stilling. My eyes stopped on a familiar Titan. He rode with his brother, and a few other of his men decked out in black. He was looking at me like he’d sensed my presence before I did his.

  For a moment, the rest of the parade blurred into colors, only his stare clear in my mind. His gaze glanced away from me for a moment, landing on Will by my side. If I wasn’t mistaken, I thought I saw a spark of darkness flick through his eyes, before the indifference set back in.

  “Calamity?”

  I was pulled out of my trance. “What?”

  “I said are you going to be at the dinghy races tonight at the southern harbor?”

  “Oh . . . um. I don’t know.”

  “Well, if you decide to go, catch up with me, all right? I gotta get back to help with the horses after the parade.”

  I barely made a noise of acknowledgment as he kissed my cheek and headed off. Because my mind was still reeling, still stuck in a Titan’s gaze.

  It took me a few minutes to process seeing him, to realize the thing that sent an unknown feeling through me.

  He was riding my horse.

  Gallant.

  I was walking the streets, trying to keep myself from rushing to the palace to see Gallant, when I saw a little boy. He had a bandage around his head, a long stick under his arm he was using as a crutch, and a monkey standing beside him with his hand cupped to accept coin.

  Some amusement rose in me when I saw Henry swiftly switch his crutch to the other side.

  He saw me heading toward him, and with a look of exasperation, leaned against the wall but held onto his stick. Tash pinned me with distasteful eyes.

  “My goodness. What on Alyria happened to you?”