“What do I do with these?” I gestured to the pile.
“Leave them,” he said. “The servants will gather them.”
I stood, unwrapped my hands—I felt something like pride from Sir Armand—and joined him at the door.
He hesitated there, staring at the flowers. “It is a painful thing, having one’s outward defenses stripped away, but it’s necessary. Only then can one learn to trust what it harbors inside, and then it can shine brilliantly.”
He met my gaze, then, and gestured for me to leave.
Sir Armand didn’t say another word as he led me down the halls, back to my corridor. The castle was quiet and judging by the darkness of the windows, the night had ruled supreme for hours. Sir Armand stopped before my door.
“Your father wanted to get you, but he was detained,” he said for only me to hear.
I nodded slowly, understanding. Dad had been forbidden by the king to come and get me.
He started to turn and paused. “It might interest you to know that the Daloren child has been in his room all evening, under tight surveillance.” With that, Sir Armand disappeared back down the hall.
Fleck.
I ran down my corridor toward his tower, quietly as I could, but as I turned down his hall I ran into a couple of guards.
“The tower is off limits, king’s orders.”
I was really getting sick of those two words.
“I won’t be long,” I said, “I just want to see—”
“The tower is off limits,” the guard repeated, slower this time.
I glanced past them, up the winding staircase flickering a soft gold from the torchlight. I could just get a sense of him, up there in his room. He was weary but he wasn’t afraid, not now, anyway. There were others with him, too. I couldn’t tell who, but their intentions didn’t seem bad. In fact, they seemed almost bored.
“Goodnight, princess.” The guard’s voice was firm.
With a sigh, I turned and headed back to my room.
Tomorrow. I would find a way to see him tomorrow, when there were more people around who could help me, like my dad.
I was about to turn down my hall when I heard laughter, and I paused. A group of young people were gathered at the end of another corridor.
Just turn around and keep walking.
One laughed and stepped back into the moonlight.
Isla.
The other two girls were there with her, and Denn and a few of Denn’s friends, including Laird and Felix. I didn’t know what they were up to, but it couldn’t be good.
Something the size of a firefly glittered in the air and Denn closed his hands around it with a wicked grin. He opened his hands and the creature started to fly away, but Felix pointed a finger and a blue light shot out and hit the creature. The creature’s pain stabbed through me like a knife as it flew in a circle before ramming into the glass and sliding out of view.
The girls laughed, and my blood boiled.
I walked toward them, fists clenched at my sides, forgetting the pain in my fingers. One of the boys looked up and nudged Denn, and soon the entire group was smirking at me.
“Look who it is,” jeered Isla. “I’m so glad to see that the princess is feeling better. We were so very worried about you.”
The others snickered.
I ignored them. “What are you doing?”
Denn folded his arms. “Nothing a princess needs to concern herself with.” He looked at me with something vengeful in his eyes. “Tell me, how are your fingers?”
I clenched my jaw and stopped before them.
The little light sparked, struggling to fly through the window, and Felix zapped it with blue light again. The little creature shrieked like dissonant chimes and fell to the floor; the others laughed.
“Stop it!” I yelled. “You’re killing it!”
I dove to grab it, but Laird shoved me back.
“Not so fast, princess. We found it; it’s ours. Besides, don’t you have some flowers to de-thorn?”
They all laughed while Felix prepared to zap the creature again. I lunged and knocked him to the ground.
No sooner had the others started shouting when a deep voice sounded from down the hall, “What’s going on down there?”
The commotion died and everyone backed away, leaving me on the ground with Felix. Felix scrambled away, and I climbed to my feet as a young man with shining blond hair and pale blue eyes appeared before me.
It was the boy I’d seen fighting in the courtyard, the handsome one.
He studied me a moment while his curiosity ran strong. He glanced to the floor, where a little light slowly faded in and out, much dimmer than before. He bent over, picked it up, then looked around the group while the group averted their eyes.
The young man stood tall and elegant and looked every bit the aristocrat. “Come, Denn, this is hardly a challenge for you.”
Denn folded his arms. “We’re just having a little fun.”
The young man’s eyes flickered to me. “Perhaps you should have your fun elsewhere and with an—” he glanced at his palm “—equal opponent. I might suggest looking in the stables. I think I saw some wild pigs out there that should suffice.”
Denn’s fury surged and his face burned red.
Who is this guy?
Enraged, Denn walked away, the boys following after him.
The girls lingered, though, and Isla looked embarrassed. But she wasn’t embarrassed—no, I could feel her satisfaction. The embarrassment was a show.
“Watch your company, Isla,” the young man said.
Isla nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
My lord?
Wait, so he was…
The girls hurried away, and when I turned back, the young man was watching me.
He was handsome—very handsome. His eyes were bright and blue and the angles in his face gave him a sort of natural authority. He stood tall with pride, but not the arrogant kind. His was the kind of pride that stemmed from ability and courage.
He glanced down at his hand and unfolded his fingers. The little light glowed dimly. The creature fluttered transparent wings, and that little chiming noise sounded again.
“Will it be okay?” I asked.
He regarded it a moment, lips tight. “I believe so. You got here just in time. Here.” He held his hand before me.
I opened mine and he carefully placed the creature in my palm. It reminded me of the pixie—the one I’d seen in the Arborenne—but this was even smaller, about the size of a bumblebee. Its entire body was aglow, fading in and out, and it fluttered its wings, tickling my palm.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A nyx,” he replied. “They usually keep to the Arborenne, but the festival brings all sorts of visitors.”
The nyx fluttered its wings, rose a few inches in the air, and fell back down in my palm with a melodic chime.
“I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” he continued. “My name is Danton.”
Danton.
As in Danton Pontefract, Lord Commodus’ son. The resemblance was slight; they shared the same eye color and same facial structure, but Danton’s eyes were warm and kind and his spirit had a gentle quality that his father’s severely lacked.
“You’ve…heard of me?” He looked nervous.
Way to offend the only person you’ve met that’s treated you with respect.
“Um, only a little.” I hurried to add. “Your dad’s Lord Commodus, right?”
“Yes,” he sighed, almost regrettably, extending a long, slender hand.
I accepted the gesture. “Daria.”
“I know.” His grip was so strong I winced.
He arched a curious brow, releasing my hand.
“My apologies,” he said, “I wasn’t thinking.” He waved a hand over mine, and the pain ceased.
I turned my hand over; all the little cuts had vanished. In fact, all physical traces of my punishment were gone. “Thank you.”
He nodded once, and
one corner of his mouth turned up. “I had hoped to meet you earlier at the dinner. After all, I’ve been hearing about you for months now.”
Great. So much for making a new friend. “I’m sorry.” I looked away.
“Why are you sorry?” His tone was rich and entirely sincere. “The account I’ve received from my father gives me hope for the future of Valdon.”
I glanced back.
I liked his face. It was encouraging and reassuring, unassuming and kind, and the smile twitching at his lips made me feel connected to him, somehow.
“Do you normally wander the corridors at night?” He arched a brow and his smile grew. He had a nice smile that brightened the rest of his face.
My cheeks warmed, and I glanced back at the little creature in my hand. “No,” I said. “I was just on my way to my room when—” I nodded at the nyx. “You?”
“I was on my way to get some fresh air,” he said. “I grow weary of these social gatherings and usually take the first opportunity I have to slip out of there.”
Something about the way he said it made me grin.
He matched my grin. “Care to join me?”
Fresh air sounded nice, but that meant going to the courtyard and… “I’m not really feeling up to being around people right now…”
“Oh, no one will see us where we’d be going.” A spark lit his eyes. “But if you’d rather not…”
He let it linger and waited.
I didn’t know why, but I trusted him. Maybe it was because he was one of the few people I’d met that had treated me as an equal. Maybe it was because he was one of the few that had acted like they cared for me and besides, it seemed like the nyx could use some fresh air, too.
“Okay.” I arched a brow. “But I reserve the right to turn around at any given moment.”
His smile widened and the heat started spreading down my neck. “Deal.”
I followed him down the corridors, up stairs—ducking behind a corner as a servant passed. Danton nodded once it was safe to continue, and we walked until we reached a door about three feet too short of any normal door. He pushed it in; it was dark beyond.
I looked quizzically at him. He grinned and ducked into the darkness. With a deep breath, I followed him in. He closed the door after me and a tiny light appeared, floating over his palm. We stood at the base of a very narrow and very old stone staircase.
He turned and kept walking.
Round and round we walked, higher and higher, our boots scraping against the stone, until we reached a dead end. He pointed up, and there, right above our heads, was a square, wooden hatch. Danton waved his hand, power surged, and the hatch made a soft clicking sound. He pushed it up and cold air blew around me, and then he reached down to help me through.
Holding the nyx tightly in one hand, I grabbed his hand with my other, and the two of us climbed through.
We were standing on the roof of one of the towers.
The castle below was dark except for a few flickering golden windows, and it was quiet. From here, I could see down the hill all the way to the marketplace and, unlike the castle, it was very much awake.
The night sky was breathtaking. Thousands of stars twinkled above, big and small, bright and dim. Some were caught in a smudge of white, reminding me of the Milky Way. But it wasn’t the Milky Way; it was some other galaxy inherent to Gaia, twisting through the sky like smoke.
The majesty of the surrounding mountains had been reduced to mere shadows, their silhouettes black and jagged, a natural frame to the magnificent sky above.
The wind whipped around us and I held my cloak tight, clutching the little creature so that it wouldn’t blow away. The winter air was freezing and burned as I breathed it in, but it made me feel…free.
Standing up here, with no walls around me, the wind flowing through my hair. It was exhilarating, as though the wind carried my soul with it, away from this place—this world—never to be held captive again.
Danton was watching me and I suddenly felt self-conscious.
“I take it this is okay?” He grinned.
I smiled and joined him a little farther along the roof where it flattened out. “How’d you know about this place?” I asked.
He stared up at the sky. “I spent a lot of time here as a boy.” He looked thoughtful, his eyes lost in solemn nostalgia.
I sat down beside him. “Why’d you stop coming?”
He was quiet a moment. “When you’re young,” he said, “you miss things. You think those in power do everything they can to protect your best interest and that of the world. But”—he brushed a lock of hair from his face—“as you grow older, you begin to realize those adults are really just the selfish children of your youth, now experts in hiding their true intentions, consumed only with protecting themselves. When I began to realize that, I stopped coming here.”
Huh. He understood a lot more than I’d thought.
The little nyx fluttered in my hand and I unclasped my fingers. Her tiny wings sparkled in the night as she turned tiny round eyes upon me. They were wide and curious and…captivating. She moved in delicate wind chimes, but she felt stronger.
“She trusts you,” Danton said, gazing at her.
“Do you think so?” I asked.
He inclined his head. “I think she’s strong enough to fly away from you now.”
She continued staring at me, head tilted to the side, her wings fluttering behind her. She was so small and brilliant, as if one of the tiny stars above had fallen from the sky and landed in my palm.
At once she flitted her wings and rose in the air and, like a spark, whizzed away.
Danton smiled and I glanced away, uncomfortable.
It was so easy being with him, so natural. Aside from Thad, I hadn’t had that with anyone. Danton really seemed to understand what it was like—more than Thad possibly could—and the more I thought about it, the more I realized how similar our situations were. The son of a power-hungry man, impenetrable walls and giant fences, expectation after ridiculous expectation.
Not only that, he was handsome.
“You want to go back now,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
I looked back at him. His blue eyes searched mine and he was careful to keep a safe distance, careful not to push and pry. It made me trust him even more.
“No.” I looked back at the stars. “Not yet.”
Danton was quiet a moment. “You are…lonely?”
Lonely.
Hearing someone else say it, hearing it come from someone else’s lips, made the feeling even stronger. Like it’d suddenly grown legs and arms and was marching around proudly inside of me, stomping on all of my organs.
I was lonely, and it was a different kind of lonely. Not because I was physically left alone; I’d been left alone all my life. But my soul was lonely. It didn’t have a companion, it didn’t have a confidant, and I’d never realized how much I’d needed that until I’d had a taste of it, with Alex.
When he’d left me the second time, he’d taken a piece of me with him. A piece I could never have back, a piece I wasn’t sure I wanted back, but it was a piece that had left me in a perpetual state of bleeding.
My eyes stung as the cold air gusted around me.
Danton slowly reached out and squeezed my hand. I blinked back my tears and glanced away, but I didn’t move my hand from his.
“It’s all right, Daria,” he whispered in the kindest tone. “If you didn’t feel alone, it would mean you’re one of them, and I wouldn’t be enjoying your company a fraction of what I am right now.”
I glanced back at him and grinned. He grinned back, squeezed my hand and let go.
“The world is a lonely place for those who don’t fall in line with its customs,” Danton said. “But know this: The only reason they mock you, the only reason they snicker and stare is because your differences—the very things that set you apart—illuminates their own vapidity. It forces them to look at themselves and think on what th
ey could have been, if they’d had your courage. But people don’t like to do that so, instead, they’ll set their gazes upon you and criticize you for doing what they weren’t brave enough to do.”
His words lingered in the space between us.
I sighed. “Danton, not having magic isn’t what I’d call brave.”
“Actually,” he bent his head, thoughtful, “I would argue that it makes you infinitely more brave, because you are forced to live in a world that relies on nothing else.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, but…”
“No, I’m serious!” He grinned. “Just think for a moment what would happen if, say, your grandfather didn’t have magic?”
What a happy thought. “Well,” I said, “he probably wouldn’t be king.”
Danton nodded. “What else?”
“Someone else would take over?”
“I mean about your grandfather,” Danton continued.
Hmm. If my grandfather didn’t have magic…
“He’d probably go into hiding until his magic returned and he could make himself king again,” I said.
Danton smiled. “My thoughts exactly. And what are you doing?”
“Getting myself grounded?”
He laughed; the sound was light and made me smile.
We were both quiet, then, and the wind rustled around us. But I didn’t feel cold anymore.
“This is your first festival?” Danton asked.
I nodded.
“You picked a fine year.”
I glanced sideways at him; the wind ruffled his blond hair.
“It’s the first year the prize is an entire territory,” he continued.
“What is the prize, usually?”
Danton intertwined his fingers around his knee. “Oh, you know, things like riches and honor and eternal glory,” he said with slight derision, “but never a position of real power.”
“So, why is it different this year?”
“I’m not sure why, exactly, but it has something to do with the year and the planets—” he waved at the sky “—at least according to our grand headmaster.” The spite had returned to his tone. “But Gaia has been without a true king ever since Galahad.”
“Who’s representing your territory?” I asked.
Danton hesitated. “I am.”
The Keeper's Flame (A Pandoran Novel, #2) Page 8
