The Darkest Night (The Orien Trilogy Book 2)

by Catherine Wilson

  My chest deflates.

  Vivi spins on her heel, taking in what must be my mournful expression, or at least the expression I hold when faced with my imminent demise. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

  “Oh, I’ve had second thoughts since the very moment you shared this grand idea of yours.”

  And thirds. And fourths. And fifths.

  Vivi’s shoulders bristle with the annoyance that only an older sister can bring, and her cheeks puff out in an adorable mixture of anger and love. If I didn’t see myself reflected in her green eyes, I’d honestly think we were one and the same. “What is it then?” she asks, raising her chin in defiance. “Do you think he’s going to catch us or that we won’t find a thing?”

  I shrug, holding tight to my true feelings. Leaning back, I relish the support of the cool wall behind me, while mulling over the words I want Vivi to hear. It’s not so much that I think Knox will catch us. Whether he walks in on us or not, he’ll still know we were here. I’m more worried for who will find us if he doesn’t.

  “I’m not concerned about Knox, Vivi. I’m just not sure sneaking into his office is the best way to find the kind of answers we seek.”

  And though I don’t voice it aloud, I’m not sure there are any answers to be found. Vivi knows that there’s not a thing either one of us can do for Aras, and I highly doubt we’re going to find any clues hiding about in our father’s things. If anyone can reverse what’s been done, it’s Knox and Knox alone. Next to tying him down and leaking the loathsome magic from his veins, my sister and I don’t have much of a chance of turning this around.

  “Trust me. If we are going to learn anything about this curse, there has to be something tucked within those walls.”

  Curse. That’s what she’s calling it. The awful thing that took away our Aras and at least four others before him. I agree that the bartering of one’s soul ranks right up there with the turning of innocents into beasts, but is it really a curse when one agrees to its terms? When Aras agreed?

  “Alright,” I say, dragging the word through my teeth. “But at the first sign of trouble, we flee. I don’t care if we have to jump out the balcony doors and hang onto the black stones of this fortress—we’re not getting caught. By anyone.”

  My voice lingers on the last of my words, and I hope for once she can read the seriousness in my eyes for what it is, and not the terror-struck kitten I’ve so resembled over these past several weeks. Vivi’s hand reaches out, squeezing my fingers within her own, and a sly smile alights her face. Despite my ready assurance that this day is going to conclude in a giant plume of smoke, I find the echo of a soft smile on my own.

  Oh, my little sister… how your stubbornness will be the end of us, but I’d follow you any day.

  “Come on, then.” She beams, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Sireen said she watched them all leave out this morning. The four of them rode behind Father’s red cloak as if they were attached to his side. We have to act now.”

  “Four of them?” I question, a surge of unease rising in my gut. “What about Bates? And—”

  She stops me with a wave of her hand before the outright hysteria can pitch in my voice. “You know how Bates is. He’s probably moving about doing whatever vile things he does for our father on a daily basis. He’s harmless, really. The only one who Mother ever came close to trusting, aside from me and Aras, since he was smart enough to keep his own brains and all. It’s the mustache that makes him look so creepy, but I honestly think he likes it that way. Sometimes when I look at him, I pretend he doesn’t have the mustache at all, or even better, that in his sleep, I’ll slip into his room and shave if off. It helps, truly it does.”

  I give a shaky nod, not quite ready to tell her it’s not the mustache I find a little off-putting. Besides, I haven’t seen much of Bates since I’ve been holed up in my room or fighting against magic with my father, but when I do, he always has a strange look about him. As if he knows I’m barely hanging on, and my only lifeline happens to be a spunky little girl who almost reaches my shoulders.

  As if he may be worried.

  “Then I suppose I’ll have to rely on your imaginative skills if we run into him, now, won’t I?” I prod, pushing her forward along the carpet until our boots meet the solid doors.

  Without so much as a wish to the stars above, Vivi places her fingers around the gold-trimmed handle of the towering wooden door and yanks with all the force her tiny body can muster. To my astonishment, the doors crack open with ease, and Vivi looks up at me with a wild excitement growing in her eyes.

  “He never locks his chambers because he knows no one is foolish enough to come in here,” she says, as if this bit of news should provide nothing but encouragement.

  I raise a tentative brow, trying to remind her that we are certainly the fools of this particular scenario. For a second, Vivi’s lips purse with thought, as if the meaning of her words have finally settled in, but then she gives her head a quick shake and squeezes through the tiny space without another glance. Perfectly content, it seems, to play the fool and play it well. Catching the door before it slams shut on my fingers, I wiggle behind the heavy wood and don’t risk a breath until I hear the soft click against my back.

  Darcy better thank her lucky curses she didn’t have to take care of us both.

  “Awful, isn’t it?” her careful voice calls out from across the room, and it takes me a moment to realize I’ve closed my eyes, even painfully so, in an attempt to block out my surroundings before they can swallow me whole.

  When I finally peek my lids open to survey the dimly lit room, I couldn’t be more unsettled. Rather than the blinding white I’ve come so accustomed to in my room, Knox’s chamber aches with heavy reds, as if the color simply bleeds from the walls. Two slender windows line the far corner, not quite big enough for either one of us to fit through, I notice, should the need to escape arise. A large canopy hangs from a dark, wooden bedframe situated to the right of the room, across from a stone fireplace. Its embers still burn with the slightest bit of light in the silent space. Two black panthers stand guard beside the fireplace, their ebony ink calling to my eyes like the flames that reach for my soul. Upon the mantel sits an iron cast that looks as if it’s been burned into the wall. The flames of Orien.

  The mark that changed my life.

  “The first time I snuck in here, I thought those panthers were real. I even threw a vase at one of their heads to be sure. But thankfully, it turns out their stone hearts are as dead and black as our father’s, so they shouldn’t cause us any harm.”

  My eyes flick away from their dark gaze, finding her shoulders as they sway back and forth on uneasy feet. “So what is it we should be looking for, Vivi? A giant, black book entitled, Irreversible Magic Curses I Keep from my Daughters, or do you think it might be something a little more subtle?”

  Vivi, bless her, has the good sense to laugh, immediately drawing the tension from my coiled limbs and redirecting the heat of my wrath. Though I’ve had very little trouble holding the flames in when it comes to dealing with my father, it’s during situations like this, when fear begins to squeeze its rough fingers around my heart, that the battle to hold it together starts to lose its steam.

  Fear has always been the true fuel for my magic, and it’s a secret I’ll carry to my grave.

  “Well, we’re certainly not going to find anything in here,” she says, pointing to the opposite side of the room.

  Upon first glance, the strange, stained walls blur together, leaving me with nothing but muted reds to dot my vision. But then, my eyes catch on the slightest bit of gold, and I freeze, disappointed I didn’t consider the idea until now. Of course Knox’s chambers wouldn’t consist of only one massive room; there has to be more.

  Being sure to allow the panthers a wide berth, I walk across the room to Vivi’s side. I give the knob a gentle twist, disappointment flooding like a heavy rain when it doesn’t budge.

  “But
you see,” Vivi squeaks, enchantment dancing across her features in the low light of the room. “He does keep some things locked. Important things, I’d guess.”

  Even though her glee is hard to ignore, it does nothing to tamper my gloom. “You’re right. He may be hiding something important, but I think we’re both overlooking the bigger problem here,” I say, giving the stubborn knob another twist.

  “Oh, do you mean how we’re going to get in?” she asks, as if the answer should be as clear as any other hair-brained idea she’s had. “It’s simple. You can melt the knob.”

  “Melt the knob?” I practically choke. “Vivi, I love you, truly I do, but there is no way I’m leaving a trace of evidence for Knox to pin this back on us. Besides, won’t it prove there’s more to my magic than meets the eye, or in this case, knob?”

  Vivi’s head shakes in silent denial, and before I can question her sanity any further, her soft words storm out like a heated wind against my cheeks. “But what does it matter if we find what we’re looking for? Think of it, Brave! What if you can help Aras? If we find the answer we need, we’ll be long gone by the time he gets back. We’ll snatch Aras, and we’ll take to the woods. It’s as simple as that.”

  We’ll snatch Aras, and we’ll take to the woods. Yes, it does sound simple, but the craziest ideas always do. “Vivi.” I sigh, placing a warm hand upon her slumped shoulder. “I don’t even know what this rotten fire can do. Who’s to say I can heat this blasted knob?”

  “Who’s to say, huh? Reeve and his friends, for starters. At least, that’s what Aras’ last letter said anyway.”

  Unease must register on my features, because she backpedals, mistaking my reaction for fear. “Don’t worry, Brave. I haven’t told anyone. Not a single word, you understand? I’m good at keeping secrets. Especially yours.”

  My insides twist with the look of hurt etched across her face, as if she truly believes I could worry about her trust. I wasn’t shocked because she heard about the fire. I was shocked because it’s the first time either one of us has spoken of Aras’ letters, and some sick, delusional part of me wants to sink down onto these bare floors and moan over every last word he wrote to her while we were in those woods.

  “I trust you, Vivi,” I say, tucking her head under my chin and wrapping her into a tight hug. “It’s just sometimes I miss Aras so much I wonder if I’ll ever be able to think straight again. It’s scary, the feeling of needing someone so desperately. I thought I was lost without my papa, but this…”

  Vivi’s small fingers tighten around my back, pulling at the tip of my braid. “You are strong enough to do this, Brave. You always have been, with or without Aras by your side. Perhaps now is the time when he needs your strength the most.”

  Her words send a sharp jolt down my spine, not of anger, but of pride. Soulless Aras or not, I am strong enough. If anything, my time with him made me so. Releasing my arms from our embrace, I let out a deep breath, more than a little concerned of all the ways this plan could go wrong, now that I’ve decided to go through with it.

  “Maybe you ought to stand back, Vivi. You know, in case I accidently light the entire room on fire with my flames.”

  Vivi grins wildly, obviously proud of her ability to drag me off the safest path to our freedom. “You know it doesn’t work that way, Brave. Father only lights the furnishings on fire to prove a point, not because he can’t help himself. If you can build a ring of fire, then I think you can handle a little gold.”

  “It’s your hair,” I warn, turning away to wrap my hands around the knob.

  Vivi watches as if she is about to witness one of the greatest feats of our history, though to be honest, I’m busy trying to recall what it was that happened the last time I used this horrid magic. It’s funny how the memories of one’s first fire wielding experience tend to flicker in and out like those final moments before succumbing to an awful end.

  I’m still not completely convinced this is going to go well for the two of us.

  Releasing the tangled web of heat building within my chest, I focus all of my energy on my fingers, hoping against all hopes that I haven’t already pushed too much. To my strange delight, the flames lick from my palms in the slowest of currents, channeling into the golden knob and the golden knob alone. As within the forest, the fire seems to know my will, and nothing is harmed within the small space aside from the ruined metal that now drips to the floor.

  When I step away from the door, the flames disappear, rushing back into my core with a heavy breath. Vivi’s eyes widen like a wizened fox searching for her next meal, and she bends to her knees, looking through the small, circular hole now abandoned in the door.

  “You see, Brave? You’ve got to get over your aversion to all things evil. Clearly, it runs in your blood.”

  “How old are you again?” I manage to ask, now that the flames are back in check.

  “Thirteen and a half, but you might as well say fourteen.”

  “Yes, might as well.” I allow, tugging her up by her elbow and pushing on the hidden door. “Now, let’s see what we can find in case my magic tries to escape again, shall we?”

  Vivi doesn’t have to be asked twice, eagerly bounding through the entryway and pulling us into the light-filled room. Windows line the entire back wall—a sea of tall Orien trees creating a moving picture as their limbs sway in the gentle breeze. The sky, blue as the day I left Ashen, hugs the room, and for a moment, I’m frozen in its grips. A low growl fills the space beside me, and a soft hand finds my own.

  “Who knew that something so beautiful was hiding behind those tall walls,” Vivi whispers, still not able to quite believe it herself. “Now I’m really angry that the view from our rooms is of nothing but the inner workings of this monstrous place.”

  Her words spark a true longing within my heart, and I worry even more for the little girl who has never been outside these dark walls. When I first arrived to Orien, I was disappointed when my room didn’t offer a view of the colorful city Aras so praised, instead trapping me in the inner courtyard of snarled bushes and dried ponds. I was more alarmed when I found that Vivi had never seen it either. The giant wall, it seems, blocks every window from this dreadful castle.

  “Don’t worry, littlest sister,” I say, tugging on her braid for good measure. “Once we leave these walls, we’re never coming back.”

  Her button nose crinkles with delight, and a wave of mischief crashes in her eyes. “Then we better get busy, I’d say.”

  With a rise of our chins, we quickly part ways, our eyes soaking in the new room like the sly, sneaky sisters we long to be. A large, wooden desk sits in the center, taking up the space with both its elegance and pride. Ornate sketches settle into deep grooves across the flawless, mahogany wood, curling from all four corners to form the mark of Orien in the middle.

  My eyes skitter away from the O to watch Vivi as she combs through the book-lined shelves, only to be pulled back again with a newfound purpose. If there were ever a place to hold my father’s secrets, this has to be it. Edging closer to the desk, I round its corner, taking in the single sheet of tanned paper that lies openly on its top. The thick lines of black ink swirl across the page, not yet dry from their last encounter. Carefully, I lower my head, trying to make sense of the strange words.

  This is a missive to Theron, and though the letters blur across the page, I have a terrible feeling it has something to do with me.

  Hesitantly, my fingers reach out.

  “If it isn’t Penelope Brave,” a confident voice rings through the room, causing my heart to lurch at the warm familiarity, yet the loss of it all the same.

  Fisting my fingers to my side, I fight to ignore the tears welling in the corner of my eyes. From somewhere in the room, Vivi gasps. A sound so heavy and laden with pain, I’m finally forced to look up to meet his hardened gaze.

  Three

  “Aras!” Vivi calls as she rises from her knees and stumbles to his side. Reaching out for his hand, she stops midway,
as if remembering the reason we’re in this cursed place to begin with.

  Aras isn’t himself, and by the looks of his empty stare and frigid smirk, he’s a long way from it, too. His eyes bounce back to mine, briefly skimming over Vivi’s trembling frame without a hint of care, and my heart catches in my chest.

  Breathe, Brave. Breathe. You won’t be any less haunted by this encounter if you render yourself useless now.

  “Looking for something, are we?” He steps away from Vivi’s stricken form and glides across the small space to where I await frozen behind my father’s desk. His eyes narrow in on its surface, scanning over the missive’s intricate scrawl, and his lips turn up in the wickedest of ways. The same blasted dimple that used to make my knees weak shines in tune with the bright sunbeams pouring in through the room, yet now, even this special piece of him feels different.

  Ruined.

  I never knew what to expect from Aras after he bartered his soul, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t dream about him every night. That I didn’t wake up frightened and in a pouring sweat with only the soft whispers of my little sister to calm me down. And even though I knew it was senseless, nothing but a desperate wish, I always held out hope. That somehow, someway, he would remember me.

  Remember us.

  But now, as his once-tender blue eyes rake over me with hardened amusement, and his arms crossed arrogantly in front of his chest, I realize what a silly thought that was. To believe those same eyes would still look upon me in love and those very arms would hold me tight. My face flushes with heat, even as chills line my very bones. My stomach drops to the floor as an errant tear escapes down my cheek, and though I feel a variety of emotions tearing through my soul, I know one thing for sure.

  Hope isn’t one of them.

  “Oh, come on, Penelope Brave,” he coaxes. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised.”

  My eyes dart back to his, startled he would call me out on my useless wishes, but he’s not looking at me anymore. His eyes are set on the missive.