The Darkest Night (The Orien Trilogy Book 2)

by Catherine Wilson

  The Darkest Night

  (The Orien Trilogy, Book Two)

  Catherine Wilson

  Copyright @ 2016 by Catherine Wilson

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Jane Dixon-Smith

  Edited by Cynthia Shepp

  For my husband, Jody, my real-life handsome prince.

  “And though she be but little, she is fierce.”

  William Shakespeare

  Contents

  Title Page

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  One

  “It’s not the magic that has to be strong enough, but the person who’s wielding it,” her soft voice rings out, dancing along the open balcony and up to the dark, awaiting sky.

  Our gazes meet, and we smile.

  It’s the first real grin I’ve shared in what seems like ages, and I can’t help but beam brighter when I feel the soft tingles of hope building within my chest. It’s been four long weeks since I last saw Aras. Four impossibly long weeks since he gave away his very soul to the monster whom I call Father. His last words play over and over again in my mind, never allowing me peace, but giving me comfort all the same. Each night, I sing his goodbye against the silken fabric of my white sheets, begging my mind to remember the richness of his voice. The measure of his calm.

  Look to the stars, Little Bird.

  And I look. Oh, my sweet Aras, I look. Whenever darkness calls, I tilt my head up to the open sky, drinking in the tiny lights as they move across the black sea, beckoning me like that very bird who has lost her way home. There I stand for hours, held up only by the tight grip of my fingers along the rail. My tired body fights to give out, but my mind not willing to let it go. Most nights, I don’t think I’d ever give up, if it weren’t for the small, warm hand that always finds my own, pulling me back and away from the consuming stars. It’s then, and only then, that I decide to let the pain win.

  Every evening, it’s the same, her desire to comfort. I’m no fool to believe I wouldn’t be in pieces without her by my side. For my heart doesn’t hurt because I’ve yet to see Aras. It hurts for the day when I do.

  But, for tonight, she hasn’t pulled me away just yet.

  “Or at least that’s what Mother would always say,” Vivi continues, the brightness in her eyes dimming, “but you know how frightfully positive she could be.”

  Could be, I notice. A subtle nod to the fact that our mother may not truly be with us. That she’s gone to join the others in the stars where I thought she was all along. Truthfully, we have no way of knowing, and given our father’s murderous intentions of the past, we aren’t likely to gain information any time soon.

  I push the edges of my smile up until it crinkles my eyes, doing my best to ignore the way her bottom lip quivers at the mere mention of Mother. The very way mine does when I allow myself to think of Papa, of Aras. After all, Vivi has always done the same for me. I’ve quickly learned that overlooking one’s weaknesses is the sisterly thing to do, especially when that ignorance is accompanied by a warm hug and something sweet to eat.

  My little sister has spoiled me, and I’m more than happy to admit it.

  “Yes, that is an annoyingly deep one, isn’t it?” I muse, looking away and tilting my chin back toward the stars. “I do hope she’s right though. That in the end, I’ll be strong enough…”

  My words trail off, a quiet mumble in the fragile space between us. I don’t have to voice my fears for Vivi to know them. She sees it in the way my hands clench and tremble in the presence of our father. The way my pale skin turns splotched and red when I try to stop the cruel magic from bleeding out of my limbs. She sees the conflict, the ever-present worry.

  She understands I want to control this power almost as much as I don’t.

  “You’ll get this, Brave,” she insists, words rising with the flare of her stubborn will. “You haven’t spoken yet of today’s lesson. I didn’t hear news of any innocent bystanders getting burned by our long-lost princess, so I’m assuming it went well.”

  If by well, she means I pretended to not understand a thing of which my father taught me, all the while secretly storing it away in my mind to practice in a dark corner on my own, then I suppose the day could be deemed successful. Though with each passing week, there’s a starker glint in Knox’s eye—a calculating knowledge of the true magic that hums within my bones.

  He’s holding back now, if only to watch me explode.

  I fall away from the rail, wrapping a protective arm around her small, but confident shoulders, wishing I could whisk her away to the wooden gates of Ashen. I used to think of Ashen as my home—the one place where I could be myself. But now I understand the only true home is the one that can be held within one’s arms. “Today’s lesson ended with an entire room’s furnishings being set on fire. His doing, obviously, not mine. Although I can’t say I blame him, as four weeks seems like an exceedingly long time for his special daughter to come into her ruthless powers. But I do feel sorry for the room. It was a new one today, and the rich purple cushions were awfully pretty.”

  If Vivi flinches at the mention of Father’s fire, she hides it well. A trait she learned long before I ever graced these wicked halls, and I’d give away Crisp’s long-ruined tunic to know it myself.

  “He’ll learn our secret soon.”

  Our secret, indeed. There isn’t another soul who I’d trust with it. Well, except for Aras, but apparently, his soul is no longer applicable. Besides, our worry is a moot point anyway. Although I don’t express my suspicions to Vivi, I know Knox has already learned it. Our fear should be for why he’s making our secrets a part of his own.

  “And what will we do when he does?” I ask, hiding the thickness of my voice with a gentle squeeze of her arm.

  Her head swivels in my direction—a glowing fierceness bouncing in her eyes as they soak in the low light from the open balcony doors. “We’ll burn this very place to the ground, that’s what. And once we find Aras, we’ll run.”

  Her bold words don’t surprise me in the least. In fact, they only confirm what I’ve found to be true of Vivi since the very day she wiped those tears from my cheek. Where I form flames from my veins, she forms them from her tongue. Confident and str
ong, with the force of a powerful child-beast. Some days, I wish the magic had skipped me altogether, filling into her confident bones instead. She’s so much better equipped to handle it than me.

  I’ve never been prouder to share someone’s blood.

  Together, we meander back into the blinding comfort of my white room, muted only by the soft haze cast off by the few low-lit lanterns scattered about the grand space. My bare feet sink into the inviting, thick rugs as we pad across the way to my large canopy bed. For a brief moment, I consider forgetting I ever asked what we’ll do when Father learns the true nature of my fire. The answer brings up too many emotions. Ones I’m not yet ready to explore. But who am I to ruin her last bit of hope? If she truly believes Aras is coming back to us, then maybe I should think it, too. Though now I notice the way her eyes skirt away to the tiny threads of our blanket as we sit cross-legged atop the soft bed, and I realize that maybe even fearless, resilient Vivi has her doubts. I would be doing her a disservice if I didn’t share mine as well.

  “And what if Aras doesn’t want to come?” I ask, reaching out to still her fingers as they wind circles along the fabric.

  She looks up once more, pure determination shining across her face. “Then I suppose we’ll have to make him.”

  Before I can begin to consider what this making him entails, a quiet knock fills our chamber, and the door at the end of the room pries open with a tentative swing. Chocolate locks, pinned up into a tight, perfect bun, tip into the room as a familiar set of polite, but careful eyes meet my own.

  “Princess Penelope. Princess Viviana,” her soft voice calls out in greeting. “If now is not the proper time, I can come back. It’s no trouble at all.”

  As if out of habit, she starts to back out, retreating to the window-lined halls that now remain dark with only the pale reflection of the moon across their floors. Oh, my sweet handmaiden. How her timid nature hurts me so. I start to answer, but my valiant sister beats me to it.

  “Dearest Sireen, you know there is never a proper time for anything in this wretched place, except for dying, of course. So you needn’t ask, unless you plan on killing us.”

  Sireen’s eyes widen as if this is the first time she’s heard Vivi’s sarcasm, rather than the hundredth, as I know it to be. My newly bestowed handmaiden arrived only days before I did, and she’s a fool if she thinks I don’t know she’s been plotting her exit ever since. It doesn’t bother me, though, this obvious desire of self-preservation, for I’ve been dreaming of my exit, too.

  If I’m nice enough, maybe we can hide in her baggage.

  “Sireen,” I call, trying to settle her with the lazy lull of my voice. “Come in this room and stop acting like you could ever be an uninvited guest. Aside from Vivi, you’re my only ray of sunshine in this place, and you know I have nightmares about those dark halls. It bothers me that you still choose to gallivant about them alone. The only way you could offend me now is by not getting in here and shutting that door.”

  Her expression turns stoic as she finally pushes into the room, but I don’t miss the pleased twinkle that flashes in her blue eyes. That’s what being around a fire-breather and her wildcat of a little sister must do to the normally sane, make them peculiarly content to meddle in the madness when they should be running for the woods.

  “I brought the new outfits you requested, Viviana. I thought to drop them in your room, but then I realized you may be more likely to see them here,” Sireen says as her gaze falls back to the cool, stone floor.

  Silence stretches across the whitewashed room, causing her shoulders to pinch forward like a cowered servant in the corner. Not for the first time, I miss the bossy force of Darcy’s ways. She never cared if her words upset me; she meant for them to. But not Sireen. She always worries she’s gone and said the wrong thing, just as she does now, but she hasn’t. She never does, and I have a sneaky feeling she never will. For it’s true Vivi spends most of her time holed up with me, floating away on an endless cloud of grief.

  And I’m not the least bit ashamed to admit I need my little sister to remind me to breathe.

  “You’ve done well, Sireen. I’m glad you brought the garments here, rather than allow them to waste away in Vivi’s quarters. Even Bates still has the audacity to knock on Vivi’s door when he comes calling, so perhaps we could all learn a thing or two from your thoughtful ways.”

  My hand curls out, motioning her toward the bed, and her careful feet finally find their stride. I nod with encouragement as she places the fine tunics and slimming pants along the bedspread beside us, but I can’t help the sour taste that bubbles in my throat. Since arriving in Orien, Sireen has been one of the nicest people I’ve met. In the past, I would have considered her kindness a virtue, but now I only see it as another trait that can get her killed. The words from Mother’s journal funnel to the present. I fight to keep up the happy façade while I remember what happened to anyone who dared to fight for her side. Sireen runs a reverent hand over the smooth fabrics that my father will surely find an abomination, and a new determination forms within my heart.

  I will protect my handmaiden from my father’s wrath, even if it’s the last thing I do.

  “Do they meet your expectations?” Sireen whispers, finally looking up to meet our eyes.

  “Oh, Sireen!” Vivi laughs, lunging forward and pulling our handmaiden into a tight hug. “Father’s going to be so angry when he sees me dressed like Brave. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love it!”

  Sireen’s eyes widen at the obvious blasphemy that pours from Vivi’s mouth, and she returns her hug with a tentative one of her own. Her gaze catches mine over Vivi’s messy, patchwork braid, and I wave a hasty hand, as if another princess running around in pants won’t cause near the scene I know it will. Father’s already made it clear he loathes the worn tunics and frayed pants I refuse to give up. He’s already taken me from my home, so I’ve made it clear my clothes are off limits.

  We tend to function under a mutual feeling of dislike, my new father and I.

  Vivi finally breaks away from Sireen, giving our poor friend a chance to breathe as her swift fingers gather the tailored fabrics to her chest. Excitement races across her pale cheeks, and her green eyes sparkle with a newfound love. Dancing backward across the floor and into the adjacent washroom, Vivi disappears in a flurry of greens, purples, blues, and reds. She’s going to be a rainbow, my sister. And a very beautiful one, at that.

  Sireen’s eyes watch the empty opening with a careful regard before her head shifts in my direction. I’m caught under her sharp gaze. “I heard something today. Something you might find of interest.”

  The soft tenor of her voice catches me off guard, even more so than the very dangerous words she chooses to say. For Sireen to admit she heard something, as most words spoken in this castle aren’t meant for her ears, this information has to be good. It has to be something that will benefit us, and as a huge part of me also hopes Aras, as well.

  “The king will be leaving the grounds in the morning. Headed to deliver a personal punishment, from what I understand. Although he will still remain inside Orien’s walls, he won’t be remaining inside his chambers.” Her words channel off as she rubs her hand along the loose, white canopy tied back to the post, probably checking for random traces of dirt and smudges alike. “For at least half the morning, one might suspect.”

  Sireen’s devious confession falls in sync with the frantic beats of my heart, and though my first instinct is to jump across the bed and grab her into a protective embrace, I force my limbs to stay in place. For it’s one thing for a handmaiden to admit she was listening when she shouldn’t have been, and it’s another to actually pass along the words. Even though my pride threatens to burst at the seams, I manage nothing but a careful nod in return. If I’m going to keep Sireen safe, I’ll also have to keep her at a distance.

  “Thank you, Sireen. I don’t know what I’ll do with this information, but I’m sure I’ll find something useful.”


  “Yes,” she says, daring another glance in my direction. “Something useful would be nice.”

  I risk a slight smile in return, though it wobbles at the sight of the little green vision standing confidently at Sireen’s unsuspecting back. “I hope you know I heard every word you two just said,” Vivi pouts, popping an angry hand to her hip, “and you can both curse the very stars above if you think I’m going to pretend like I didn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t dream it,” I say.

  Two

  Though the new day breaks and fresh light floods the open halls, there’s still an oppressive darkness that leaks its way in through the tiny cracks along the stone walls, bogging me down and threatening to claw at my throat with every step. My eyes dart about nervously at each open crossing or new turn, but not long enough to lose the frizzled, black braid in front of me, as it bounces with excitement across my mad little sister’s back.

  “Hurry it up, Brave,” she whispers over her shoulder as if she hadn’t uttered the very same words not more than two steps ago. I know I should probably be the voice of reason here, the one to make us turn around, but I don’t say a word. I don’t even blink. For what would I say that she doesn’t already know?

  We’re both aware nothing truly good can come from sneaking into our father’s chambers.

  Clamping down on my tongue, I simply roll with Vivi’s incessant comments and ignore the little tingle inside me that says we should stop this dangerous charade before it’s too late. Sooner than I hope, the tall, black doors of Knox’s wing come into view, sucking the air out of my lungs and pinning my stubborn boots in place. Vivi’s steely pace comes to an abrupt halt, and though she doesn’t turn, I can see the sudden rise of doubt surface in the tightness of her jaw. For one fleeting moment, a spark of relief lights within my chest.

  We’re going to turn around after all.

  “It won’t take our psychotic father long to hand out his newest punishments, so if we’re going to have a good look around his chambers, it’s today.”