I released each image to Castillo, seeing no reason to keep this information from him. It occurred to me that he probably knew all the magicians in the compound anyway.
Matu’s face popped up next, catching me by surprise. Helena followed him, as did Castillo, Bo, Gibson, and Cris. One of the girls, Mariana, also appeared, causing a frown to tug at my lips. I couldn’t decide if the storm in my chest was borne from jealousy or relief.
I sang the next note down a third, and the song changed to allow me to see what the magicians could do, and to what degree.
Bo, Gibson, and Castillo were all first-class magicians, with powers untold if trained and used with a bond. It made sense for Cris to be surrounded with his father’s most powerful magicians, though Castillo’s proclamation that he’d never met anyone as powerful as me paraded through my mind. He possessed first-class power, and now we were bonds.
Oake had told me that my power couldn’t be matched as long as I cultivated it properly. He’d challenged me in Iskadar, experimenting with elemental magic, and healing spells—Oake had been particularly talented in the healing arts—and earthen remedies. He called my training classical, and explained that I’d need to continue learning throughout my life.
Of course, that had all happened before the High King invaded Umon and it became dangerous to even hum to the peach blossoms. I hadn’t been cultivating my magic for a long time, but I could still remember every one of Oake’s lessons as if they were yesterday.
Matu and Helena were third-class magicians, and unbonded as indicated by their pictures coming in isolation. Helena’s image showed her performing that lifting, twisting hand gesture, and I recognized her as a future-teller. The hand gestures had been added centuries ago to give the general population something to look at while the magician hummed under their breath and entered their minds.
Matu opened his mouth, and a spell-song spilled out, though I couldn’t hear it. He didn’t look particularly graceful; his tongue didn’t know its way around a language. Suddenly he jerked his head to look at something beside him. He muttered, his lips barely moving, and pressed his eyes shut.
“Caster,” I murmured, recognizing the behavior of one who sent spells to find out how many people were approaching and what their temperament was. Or rhymes that brought light to darkness, or limericks that made a person see things that didn’t exist.
Perhaps I’d casted my father’s face into my own mind after persuading the merchant to sell me that thread for a lower price.
Mariana, an unbonded mage, was simply a fourth-class magician with talent that could be stretched and liberated should she find the right instructor. Oake could work her into a talented spell-caster.
I skipped over the sequestered magicians, and finally focused on Cris’s picture. He stretched one hand outward, indicating that his power came only through touch. I already knew he influenced emotions, though I didn’t have a label for a magician such as him.
“Find what you need?” Castillo asked.
I kept my eyes closed, still examining the image of Cris. His eyes radiated pain as he continually reached for something he would never grasp.
A pang of sadness spiraled through me.
“Don’t go feeling sorry for him,” Castillo said. “Don’t forget who allows Gibson to run things.”
I opened my eyes, effectively erasing the solemn image of the Prince. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”
He held up his hands, and I noticed a long scar running across his left palm. “My mistake.”
My anger deflated. “I’m sorry, Castillo. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
He moved closer, almost near enough to feel the heat from his body. “I know you’re under stress,” he said. “I can help.” He held that scarred palm out to me, and I slid my hand into his. The contact somehow felt more intimate than two bonds simply trying to keep each other grounded.
He hummed a song of comfort, and I leaned into him, burying my face in his shoulder. I added a trill at the end of his spell, successfully entering his mind. I only saw one image—me walking toward him with my hair streaming behind me like black ribbons curling in an early spring breeze. I recognized the dress I wore as one of my market day dresses, and I carried the bolt of cloth I’d purchased to make aprons for a chef.
The image flew violently from my mind. Castillo dropped my hand and stepped back, his eyes brimming with fury. “If you want to know something, you need merely ask.” His voice sounded like needles against cement.
“Why do you have that picture in your head?” I’d made those aprons months ago, perhaps near the beginning of winter.
“I’ve kept up with your doings.”
I sensed he had more secrets to share, and unless I knew the right questions to ask, I wouldn’t discover them.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, the fire dimming in his eyes.
“Yes,” I said, only telling half of the truth. I desperately wanted to trust Castillo, but until I knew everything I didn’t think it wise.
“Good, because I trust you, Echo.” Castillo leaned down and skated his lips across my cheek. “I must go.”
Before I could process the heat spreading from my skin to my core, he turned and exited through the sliding glass door.
#
The Prince didn’t call on me that day, nor the next. I secluded myself in my chambers, afraid to venture too far lest a spying pair of eyes found me. I felt the rumors and danger pressing against the closed door like a fog. I pushed back, first by completing the protection spell on the door to my suite.
Then I retreated to the courtyard and murmured a poem that would find my application and replay all who had touched it. Helena’s manicured nails gripped the edges of the paper first. She possessed my application in the present.
As the poem progressed, I saw a pair of rough hands seize the paper. Perhaps Bo or Gibson or whoever had assigned me to Helena’s care. Before that, a series of hands traveled across the paper, some simply holding it, some splashing ink and scratching quills through boxes.
At length, I saw the hands that had filled out the application. I expected to see my sister’s slender fingers, her well-kept nails, for no one else could’ve known the details required.
Instead, I saw a man’s hands. Clean, strong, and printing in an elegant scrawl. He knew all my personal details, including my date of birth and tower location. He knew my previous residence, and the full name of Grandmother.
He knew everything.
My heart pounded against the poem, but I didn’t stop. He smoothed the parchment down and then flipped his hand over to hold the corner as his quill caught.
His left palm bore a slanted scar.
My breath leaked out of my body as the fury seeped in. Castillo certainly had been keeping up with my doings—for a lot longer than I’d thought. I’d never noticed him before the incident at the aristocrat’s house, and my stomach boiled at the thought of what he saw in me that would prompt him to submit my application.
I ended the song-magic and looked into the ink-stained sky, wondering what kind of spells I’d need to sing to discover Castillo’s secrets.
Fourteen
The next morning, I finished my dress and modeled it for Lucia.
“Gorgeous,” she said just before hugging me. I held on a beat longer than normal, imagining her as the sister Olive could’ve been had we not been so focused on eking out a living—and keeping my magic concealed. I allowed myself several moments of frenzied worry over my sister. I’d been so busy, I had not had time to truly discover if she was well.
Soon, I vowed as I left the sewing room with Lucia, only to find Matu waiting in the hall. “Good morning.” He scanned me. “Lovely dress, Echo.”
I spun for him, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
“I came to invite you to the gardens,” he said. “They’re splendid this time of year.”
Lucia nudged me toward Matu as she slipped into the suite. I took his offered arm and made note
of the multiple turns he made, but there were too many to keep track of by the time we finally stepped through a door leading outside.
“Matu,” I breathed in the heady scent of flowers and sunshine. “It’s beautiful.”
He led me through the garden on a meandering path, allowing me to exclaim about the mini-roses and fawn over the mountain lilacs.
After a few minutes, I gathered my courage. “Matu, tell me, how’s Cris?”
“He’s well, my lady.” Matu maintained his grip on my arm, steering me toward a bench carved out of the wall of the compound. “He has much business he’s attending to.”
I couldn’t fathom the enormity of issues Cris must have to deal with on a daily basis, yet I still worried over whether he was displeased with how I’d handled the villagers. He hadn’t called on me, nor had I received any invitations to outings or dinners since that day.
The shade brought relief to my sun-warmed skin. “What of Castillo?” I’d not seen him since the morning before, when I’d invaded his mind without his permission.
Matu sighed, the barest of sounds, but here in the silent garden, I caught it easily.
“He’s stubborn,” Matu said. “You should know that up front.”
“I’ve figured out that much,” I said with a smile. I studied the nearby flowering shrubs as I wondered how far I should push this line of questioning. Surely it would get back to Castillo, who would likely be upset.
I dismissed the thoughts. I didn’t care if Castillo became upset. He’d submitted my application; he’d been spying on me for months, perhaps longer.
“He’ll tell you most anything,” Matu said. “I don’t wish to break his confidence.”
“Of course not.” I squeezed his arm. Before I could ask him what he used to do before coming to Umon, Lucia appeared, carefully stepping between the flowers.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But Echo has received a lunch invitation to dine with the other girls, and Helena’s insisting she return at once to make preparations.”
#
Lunch began in five minutes, and Helena still bustled about me, unsure about which necklace I should wear. I didn’t tell her that I knew what truly lay ahead, and that her son had made sure I would have a part in it. I let the words simmer inside, saving them for Castillo. The three-minute walk down the hall held the promise of another argument with him, and I actually welcomed it.
With the right jewelry finally in place, Lucia opened the door. Mariana stood next to Castillo in the hallway, beaming. “You look beautiful.” She stepped forward and hugged me.
“Hello, Mariana.” I felt a rush of relief—and a measure of disappointment—at her presence.
Her eyes were unassuming and kind. Her cheeks shone with a rosy tint. “I have the best gossip.” Just like that, her arm slipped through mine and she chattered about Athe sneaking into the Prince’s private chambers in the middle of the night.
“Why would she do that?”
“Rumors are everywhere,” Mariana said. “But I heard she was mad with jealousy. She wanted time alone with His Majesty. She kissed him!”
I gasped, but my mind churned on the information. Did the other girls not get time alone with the Prince?
“Gibson came running when His Majesty yelled, and Athe has been sent home!” Mariana’s eyes flickered with delight. “Now there are only eleven of us.”
I gripped her arm tighter against my body. “He sent her home?”
“Apparently he doesn’t want a bride who is so clingy,” Mariana said. Castillo sniffed, but I didn’t turn around. “We’ve all been talking about how we should act more like you.”
“More like me?”
“You act like the last thing you want is to be chosen. And His Majesty fawns over you for it.”
I definitely heard Castillo sniff this time, and I yanked my handkerchief from my pocket. I twisted to face him and dangled the slip of cloth in his face. “Need this?”
Something urgent flamed in his eyes, and I fisted the handkerchief. I stared steadily back, wishing he’d sing the notes he needed to see inside my mind, hear the angry words I’d saved for him.
Mariana watched us, waiting. But I wouldn’t concede. Not to him.
Finally, she tugged on my arm as she pushed open the door to the room where we dined. Feminine chatter met my ears, and the smell of yeast filled the air. I started to turn away from Castillo, determined to keep my thoughts to myself until they could truly be unleashed.
“Princess, may I speak with you?” Castillo sounded kind and respectful. He cast Mariana a glance. “Alone?”
I waved her into the room and folded my arms. “Yes?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, a gesture I’d never seen from him. “I wish—would you like to join me this evening for an outing?”
Surprise shot through me, along with a heavy dose of fear. We shouldn’t be seen sneaking off alone together. Again, my mind spun around what could be so important that he’d take such a monumental risk.
“An outing?” My voice strayed into the too-high range. An invitation was the last thing I’d expected from him. A warning, maybe, about Mariana. Or a stern word about keeping my magic undetected around the other girls. But not an invitation that would take me away from the problems of this place; certainly not when the sole reason he had brought me here was to be courted by another—much more powerful—man.
I studied him and found an unreadable puzzle staring back. “Where shall I meet you?”
“You need not meet me,” he said. “I’ll come collect you, just as I always do. Be . . . cautious at lunch.” He turned and moved down the hallway on graceful legs. I watched him go, wondering when I’d started noticing the gentle curve of his biceps beneath his uniform or the way his voice slipped into a lower pitch when speaking to me.
That spinning feeling started in my stomach, but this time I had a name for it. Attraction. The combination of his magic and good looks was as dangerous as accepting his invitation, especially when I still felt a thread of fury reserved for when we could honestly converse.
#
When I entered the room, several girls watched me with calculating eyes, but Mariana kept them at bay. I noticed the whispers and the glares, but thankfully, the food came only moments after I did.
During lunch, I shoved away the memory of the crackle of warning in Castillo’s eyes for the fifth time. I struggled to pay attention around the other girls, because I didn’t want to give them any more fuel for their gossip circles. I already felt as if the compound had eyes and ears where it shouldn’t, this room included.
When I tuned into the conversation, I wished I hadn’t.
“Those alarms sent my maids into a panic,” a girl named Gazelle said. “And then I couldn’t leave my room until the next morning.”
“None of us could,” Mariana said. “I told you to save some of your breakfast pastries for emergencies.” She playfully waggled her fork toward Gazelle.
I smiled while the other girls laughed, hoping that counted as participation so no one would notice how rigidly I sat, or that I couldn’t seem to swallow my salad.
A strange pulse rippled through the group, causing the edges of my vision to vibrate. I tasted magic on the back of my tongue, thick and sweet—a memory extraction spell. Someone somewhere knew something and was concealing it from a powerful magician. I envisioned the greed and hatred in Gibson’s eyes, and a shiver ran the length of my spine.
I sucked in a breath and examined the other ten girls at the table. No one seemed to notice anything peculiar. My eyes strayed to Mariana, the only other girl who possessed the ability to work magic.
Mariana still giggled with the rest of the group. Her eyes caught mine, and I laughed, but it sounded too forced and much too loud. I focused on Gazelle and Kenya, who had their heads bent toward Laisa. I listened and added my own suspicions about what the alarm could have meant.
Everything felt wrong. When the servants came to collect the dishes
and serve the main course, I jumped. Did they see? Did they notice the clenching of my jaw? The darting of my eyes from girl to servant to goblet? The magic grew stronger; I could almost hear the song. When the servants sealed us in the room again, dulling the magic, relief spread through my body.
I spent the rest of the meal ignoring the lingering magic and gossiping about what the Prince might look like in the morning, fresh from bed.
#
After lunch, Matu returned me to my rooms and I collapsed into the recliner next to my bed. If lunchtime would be that exhausting every day, I’d have to find an excuse to dine elsewhere. I felt like I never shook the watchful gazes of the other girls, and that they’d followed me here, to my bedroom, still observing my every breath.
I reminded myself I’d completed the protection spell on my door and managed to put the thought of constantly being watched from my mind long enough to entertain Lucia with impressions of Kenya—the girl who had taken up Athe’s role of tormenting me. I never could get the right amount of disdain in my voice, and I couldn’t make my nose turn up the way hers did.
Too soon, Lucia’s work demanded she leave. She patted my hand as she did, and I stood and grabbed her in a hug. “Thank you, Lucia,” I said. “You’ve made being here bearable.”
“Oh, I’m sure that handsome prince helps a bit too, my lady.” She laughed as she exited my suite.
I wandered to the sliding glass door before turning back to the closet. I’d seen Lucia come out with gowns in shades of lilac and tangerine. I managed to select a gown the color of fresh-churned butter and slip it over my hips. It was then that I realized the buttons were situated on the back, and that they were the size of pinheads.
Lucia found me a moment before I ripped the delicate notions. “Let me help you.” Her fingers brushed mine away.
Echoes of Silence Page 10
