A Girl in Black and White (Alyria Book 2)

by Danielle Lori

  But I had to know why he did it. I just . . . needed one more chance at getting this right before he left.

  “Where are you going?” my mother asked. “I thought we were going to watch the fools go crazy together?”

  “I’ll meet you there,” I told her.

  “All right,” she grumbled. “I guess I’ll be here with Samira, then. I might die of excitement before I ever make it there, but don’t worry about me, darling.”

  I shook my head at her sarcasm, hearing her shout her servant’s name as soon as I shut the door.

  I dragged my feet all the way to the palace, some trepidation running through me. I’d changed my mind ten times on the way there, but eventually decided I had to address the favor he did for me. Something I could have never accomplished physically and morally. But leave it to him to cross that line I never would.

  When I entered his room, he wasn’t there. And with a sigh, I almost turned to leave, but then my gaze caught on a sparkle on the mantle. The sun glinted off it just right. Though it wasn’t the silver that got my attention, but my cuff.

  I’d never imagined he took it off my wrist, but knowing that he had, made my throat thick.

  Running my finger across the metal, I debated about taking it, putting it back on. But quickly came to a conclusion. It was his. It was always his.

  Should I have been preparing for this event? Doing mental exercises? I didn’t know. But all I did was walk down the street toward the Well of Fools. It was the last day of the Kings Festival; a lantern light show later tonight concluded the weeklong revelry.

  The sun warmed my skin, but there was still a numbness settling underneath. Number thirteen. I closed my eyes, trying to loosen the grip on my heart. Did he feel guilty for my death? And this was his way of absolving himself?

  A dais was set up in the square for the royal family, but it was empty. Maxim probably had better things to do than watch people lose their minds with the Symbian Queen and Princess. A crowd filled the area; there were even a few barrels of wine set up.

  My gaze caught on my mother who stood next to a redheaded woman. It looked like she said a few parting words before coming to my side.

  I regarded the woman suspiciously. “Is that—”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you conversing with the woman who sleeps with Clinton and the one you call a slut?”

  She shrugged. “I liked her dress and wanted to know which modiste designed it.”

  I shook my head, letting out a breath of dry amusement. This city was beginning to feel too small.

  Looking around the area, I realized there were more fools than I’d thought there’d be. I was sure we all thought we were special. That we would remain sane while looking into the Well of Fools. It was the only reason there was a line forming, from people I was sure came from all over searching for the thing they wanted to know most.

  What could it be, though, that would make someone risk their lives to know the answer to? Maybe my problem wasn’t as original as I’d always thought.

  The magistrate stepped up on the dais, and of course, his gaze caught mine. He frowned, and I smiled, giving him a little wave. His jaw ticked, but then he did the smallest wave I’d ever seen with the scroll in his hand. Some amusement rushed me.

  “Oh, thank Alyria,” I heard a little boy’s voice, as some people moved out of the way in the crowd. Henry weaved between them until he stood before my mother and me. “I knew you were too good to let that old goat hang ya. Sure let him draw it out, though. I’ve been staying out of trouble, and here I almost have to save you.”

  I laughed. “I really don’t believe you’ve suddenly given up your old ways.”

  He raised a brow. “Why’s that?”

  I turned my head, glancing at Tasha who was on his tiptoes, an inch from reaching some man’s coin purse with a determined shine in his eyes.

  Henry frowned. “Tash is his own person. He don’t work for me.”

  “Right. What would he do with all that coin? Buy bananas?” I asked dryly just as Tasha reached our side and dropped a coin purse in Henry’s hand. The monkey shot me a dirty glare like I’d just offended him with my stereotypical jest.

  My mother picked at her nails as Henry looked her over with a frown. “She looks like you,” he told me.

  “I’m her mother,” Reina said dryly.

  “Well, good job you did, letting her almost hang, didn’t ya?”

  My mother shot her head up, looking Henry over, before turning her gaze to me. “Why are we conversing with peasant boys?”

  Henry’s gaze narrowed dangerously.

  “That’s an aspiring Titan you’re looking at, Mother.”

  She snorted.

  “I’m just not sure why he wants to be one,” I added.

  “Titans have a purpose,” he boasted. “And they always get all the women.”

  Amusement and disbelief rushed through me at this little man-boy.

  “Men,” my mother muttered. “They start out young, don’t they?”

  “Oh, no. I gotta go. Momma only sent me out for some milk, but I got sidetracked.”

  “Milk only comes in in the morning, Henry.”

  “I know,” he said. “I said I got sidetracked, didn’t I?”

  It was seven o’clock in the evening. A laugh escaped me. “Yes, I’d definitely rush now before she gets worried.”

  My mother sighed when he left. “I’m so glad I didn’t have a boy.”

  I let out a breath of disbelief. “You didn’t raise me to begin with, Mother.”

  She only frowned, before turning to talk to a woman she must have known in the gathering. Probably some other woman Clinton was having an affair with.

  The magistrate finished his speech, and I watched the first man step forward, grasp the edges of the well and look inside. A few seconds passed, and then he took a step back, staring into the crowd, before walking away. Well, I guessed I expected something different. He looked stunned but fine—

  He got all the way down the street before the screaming started.

  My stomach tightened, and I noticed some people trickle out of the line. But some were still determined. One by one, they went and looked in, some of them falling to their knees afterward, holding their heads. Some making it down the street. But not one seemed to hold onto their sanity.

  I was quickly losing my bravery. It was seeping out with each person who stepped forward. The line was dying down, and a thin sheen of sweat covered me.

  I’d screwed up so much in my life. Was I going to give up on this? Was I going to be a product of my name?

  My heart beat so heavily I could hear it, but before I could second-guess myself, I stepped forward. I swallowed down my fear, walking closer and closer. My mother was saying something, but all I could hear was the slight breeze and a ring in my ears.

  I didn’t stop until my hands were grasping the cool stone of the well, and my reflection looked back at me.

  The water was so still, not a ripple of movement. My likeness looked back at me; she was dark-eyed, young, foolish. She wasn’t even human, though she knew how to make human mistakes.

  I was just a child, doing chores, and smiling up at my grandmother.

  I was a little older trampling through the stream from the neighbor’s.

  I was older still, smiling at a boy from across the pew in mass, and deciding I might not think they are so gross after all.

  I was eighteen, staring at the stars and feeling more out of place than ever before. Though it wasn’t the place, the town—it was my skin.

  I was twenty, with a shadowed Titan standing behind my back.

  To now as I stood here, the image of me looking into this very well.

  To tomorrow.

  Close my eyes. Close my eyes.

  To . . .

  My lungs tightened. Please stop . . .

  “Please stop,” the well mocked.

  To my future. To darkness.

  “Look into that well .
. .” spoke back at me on a reel.

  I closed my eyes tight, shutting out the images, but they still played in my mind. The sound of a ticking clock in my ears. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

  I pushed myself away from the well, sucking in a large breath.

  Anger, frustration, it all welled up in me and came out in tears down my cheeks. I looked up to see a crowd watching me hesitantly.

  I walked away, down the street.

  I never screamed.

  I walked away, knowing what my future held for me, and knowing that I couldn’t change it. That the path I was walking had already been laid beneath my feet and I couldn’t take another one.

  When the church bell rang eight times, I barely recognized it until the very last one.

  My perspective had changed from looking into that well. And I realized I had nothing to lose. Not when I could see my future in front of my eyes. Dark. Alone.

  I headed in the direction of the northern docks with resolve, but with an unwavering sense of unease. I might not have had anything to lose, but that didn’t mean I didn’t fear rejection.

  The heat wave had been letting up, a slight breeze carrying the hotter temperature away, and I sucked in a large breath, calming my trepidation.

  The sun was falling behind the ocean, the silhouettes of ships floating on the water. I walked down the docks toward the Titan vessel at the Northie harbor, trying to find Weston’s form among the sailors loading the ship.

  I stilled, my heart pattering when I saw him walk down the ship’s ramp into the loading area. As if he felt my stare, his gaze flicked in my direction.

  He was wearing a western leather jerkin, and it made my heart feel heavy. I had no idea how’d I’d gotten here, but I had. What was it about this man? Why couldn’t I merely forget him? I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter because it wasn’t happening.

  I knew there would be no happily ever after, no matter how my grandmother’s story went. But I couldn’t let the words I never said haunt me forever.

  How did you even begin to tell a man how you felt, a man who you knew had never shared those words with anyone and probably never would? How did I hang on to my pride and admit it? And then it dawned on me: I would always have my pride.

  I realized at that moment, bravery and honesty were much more important in the long run than pride ever was.

  I swallowed down all my apprehension and walked toward him. He stopped and only watched me with a heavy gaze. It was a little dark, but he was interested enough to stay where he was.

  My heartbeat thumped so heavily in my chest when I reached him. I looked up, meeting his eyes for a moment. It wasn’t fair that he was the one man I didn’t want to want—couldn’t even have—yet the only one who made me feel alive.

  A pang went through my chest. After tonight, I’d never see him again.

  I stood in front of him, number thirteen clouding the space between us, and sailors surrounding us. It wasn’t the location I wished to do this, but it didn’t look like I had another option.

  “You didn’t have to do it,” I said quietly.

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “I owed you. I’ve paid it.”

  Was that the reason he did it then? To absolve himself of guilt? Because he felt like he was indebted to me?

  I almost backed out, my pride was creeping up on me, wanting to cut my words off before I could bare myself further. “Weston . . .” I breathed.

  He shook his head, agitation crossing his features, before wiping it away with his palm. “Calamity, let’s not draw this out, all right? I did you a favor. Are we even now?”

  Even . . .? I guessed I hadn’t thought of it in terms like that in a while. Or realized that was all there was between us. At least, that’s what he believed. I shook my head, my mind spinning. “Yea, I guess we’re even.”

  His gaze settled on me for a couple moments, before he turned his back to walk away.

  My stomach twisted, nerves spreading through my body, but I had to do this. Had to. “Weston, wait.”

  When he stopped and turned back around, his gaze was dark, furious. But I strode toward him, standing on my tiptoes and wrapping my arms around his neck. I didn’t think I’d ever hugged him, and there was something so comforting about it, that I didn’t want to let go. He tensed like I’d surprised him, but his hands didn’t come up to hug me back.

  My heart was beating so hard, I knew he could feel it against his chest. And the sailors who were slowing their movements, watching us, made this one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

  “I have something to say,” I whispered against his neck.

  He didn’t respond, only kept his gaze in front of him while I embraced him on the docks with too many eyes on us. I knew what this looked like; that I was an infatuated maid, and he was only trying to turn me down nicely, but I suddenly didn’t care what a bunch of sailors thought. They were going to Elian. I’d most likely never see them again.

  I inhaled a breath, preparing myself. “I just wanted to tell you to have a good trip.” An angry, disgusted sound escaped his lips, and I swallowed hard before finishing. “And I hope you find everything you’re looking for—”

  “Calamity, stop,” he said darkly, pulling my arms off him.

  “Just let me finish!”

  “You’re making this into a fucking dramatic show I don’t need.” He turned his back on me once again.

  My frustration built, before bursting. “You’re the most arrogant, stupid, pigheaded man I’ve ever met, milord!”

  He froze, and so did all of the sailors, the air stilling completely. He stood there for a moment, his back to me, before saying lowly, “What did you just say?”

  I swallowed, glancing at the sailors who were only watching us now than doing their jobs. “I said, you’re the stupidest man I’ve ever met.”

  He finally turned around, his intense gaze finding mine. “That’s not what you said.”

  My indecision was so strong, it almost choked me. Did he want to hand me a knife so that I could cut my chest open in front of him? “Yes, it is.”

  He walked toward me slowly, my heart beating to each step he took until he stood right before me. “What. Did. You. Say?”

  I pushed down my uncertainty, finding the resolve I had earlier. It was just much easier to tell yourself you could do something than actually having to do it.

  This was harder now that he was staring me in the eye, and so I took a step closer, rested my hands on his jerkin and slid them up around his neck.

  Standing on my tiptoes, I said, “You’re the most arrogant. Stupid. Pigheaded. Man. I’ve ever met,” before leaning in closer and whispering, “milord.”

  “You promised,” he said roughly.

  “I lied,” I breathed, pulling back to look at him. “I do that sometimes.”

  “What about your stablehand?”

  My brows knitted, and then recognition hit me: he must have seen me with William. It wasn’t like Will did anything worse than kiss me on the cheek, but I guessed . . . jealous streak. The idea gave me a rush because that meant his emotionless expression yesterday was only a façade.

  “What about him? No, I’ve never called him ‘milord.’”

  “Of course you haven’t. He’s a stablehand.”

  I frowned. “If I wanted to call him ‘milord’ I could have.”

  “But you didn’t. You said it to me.”

  My eyes narrowed at his cocky tone. “Well, I’m thinking about taking it back.” I pulled my arms away from him.

  He wiped his thumb across his bottom lip. “Everyone on the docks heard it. It’s permanent now.”

  I let out a noise of frustration. “Just forget it.”

  I turned to go, but then he gripped my wrist, spinning me around. His hand was at my nape, and his mouth covered mine. Warmth pooled in my stomach as he kissed me, his lips parting mine. I heard some obnoxious whistles from the sailors, but I didn’t care, because relief filled my chest, light and airy, t
hat I didn’t get rejected like I’d imagined.

  I heard him make a little growl of frustration and then felt a sharp nip to my bottom lip. What the—

  “Why did you do this?” he said against my lips.

  I swallowed, but it was a rhetorical question because he grabbed my arm and pulled me down the docks. I was still burning from the kiss, but a mixture of nerves and anticipation began to roll through me.

  “What’s with this?” he asked, pulling on a lock of my hair as we walked down an alleyway in the palace’s direction.

  I looked at the ashy tips, before sighing, “I’d rather not discuss it.”

  I was pretty sure I knew where we were going and what we would do. Though I’d never quite been in this position—walking next to a man with the intentions of getting into his bed with him. I wasn’t sure how to act, and, he noticed of course.

  He glanced down at me, a little smile pulling on his lips. “Scared?”

  “No.”

  “You smell afraid.”

  “Ugh,” I responded, “that’s cree—” I was cut off by him lifting me onto a stack of crates in the alley. Before I could respond, he leaned into me, saying against my throat, “Why are you afraid?”

  I sucked in a breath as a warm shiver ran through me. “I’m not,” I said. “Maybe nervous but not afraid.”

  “Aren’t they one and the same?” he said, but I barely heard him as his hands came to my thighs, pushing my dress up, and up.

  My breath caught when his palms brushed my bare legs. I glanced down the dark alleyway, not seeing anyone, but I could hear laughter from one of the taverns nearby. We were going to do this here?

  I choked out a breath when, without another word, he slipped a finger deep inside of me. A moan escaped my lips, my eyes closing at the hot pressure building.

  We were doing this here.

  A dizzy haze rushed through my bloodstream. This was so wrong. I could feel the Symbian air on my bare thighs, and the warmth of his lips on my neck as his finger moved tantalizingly slow inside me. The combination overwhelmed me, every inch of my skin burning hot.

  His voice was dark. “Has anyone else done this to you?”