Unspoken

by Celia Mcmahon

  Lulu shook her head and spoke with a little bit more bravery. “He reminds of Henry because of how he walks. Henry always walked as if he had a purpose. I mean, he did have a purpose, always, but his destination was always something of importance. He handled everything that way.”

  “How can you remember that?”

  Lulu’s eyes smarted at the sun. “I observe plenty of things, Isabelle Rowan.”

  “Deep.”

  Lulu grinned wide and bear-hugged me.

  “If mother saw us, she’d lose the rest of her hair!” I yelled from between her arms. I wrapped my own around her neck, and she loosened her grip.

  “Can I call you mother? I feel so safe in your arms.”

  We both laughed and cleaned up our hair and dresses. Between welcoming Prince Ashe and hiding out here, I had forgotten about supper.

  And I’d get to spend the entire evening with a smirking prince.

  I pushed away the dread. “I hope the Prince of the Peeks has two stomachs,” I quipped. “Do you think he’s a shifter? I could see him transforming into a cow. Or maybe a hog.”

  Lulu took off her shoes and started toward the castle just as the four o’clock bell rang from the clock tower. “Shifters don’t exist, Izzy,” she said, tucking a piece of stray hair behind her ear. She held up a finger. “Now I have to keep a straight face for gods know how long during dinner. I will keep imagining Prince Ashe as a slopping hog!”

  Pedoma was waiting for me when I returned to my room. “Rolling around like a dog, were you?” she asked, picking pieces of grass from my hair. “Undress.”

  I obeyed, only because standing there arguing would only prolong the process. And besides, getting out that purple tulle felt like shedding ten pounds of skin. I replaced it with a lightweight black silk dress that Pedoma trusted me to pick out myself before she slipped away, but not before a long wink and a “congratulations.” Congratulations for what, I wasn’t sure, but surely it had something to do with Ashe.

  I tried not to think about him. I applied some of the lip stain my mother had picked out and admired myself. It wasn’t half bad, quite the change from the blood red I was used to wearing. I glanced at my reflection—mouth pulled tight, eyebrows low and somewhat cross. I looked positively indifferent. I took my hair from its high knot and let it lay over my shoulders, allowing the black strands to fall across my eyes. At least that way when I felt an eye-roll coming on, I could hide it.

  When the clock tower struck five, I hauled myself into the hall where my mother waited. She wore a puffy gown the color of storm clouds. An ugly color, I noted, but paired with the red sash and ruby jewelry, it could pass as one of my mother’s more suitable outfits even though she smelled like she’d bathed in perfume.

  “Isabelle, you’re not wearing a corset,” she said with raised eyebrows.

  “They are not nearly as heavy as yours, Mother,” I replied. Her own breasts were pushed to her chin. “Sometimes it’s good to let them breathe.”

  “It’s not an option.”

  My smile faded when I realized how serious she was.

  We met Lulu and her parents soon after. My cousin wore a look of defeat that I assumed had much to do with her unflattering salmon-colored gown. “At least I am not the only one suffering,” I muttered to her.

  Before going into the dining hall, my mother pulled me aside. “I will be sending a crow to your father after tonight’s dinner, Isabelle,” she said.

  “Mother, it’s only—"

  “This is important to us,” she interrupted, cold and bitter. “You barely comprehend the extent of the prince’s visit. Daughter, you have so much to learn, but right now you will do nothing to bring shame on your family. Your brother would be proud to see you obey and represent your kingdoms with dignity. We let you choose, and that is proving to be a mistake. Don’t make me choose for you, Isabelle.”

  I watched her, somewhat disbelievingly. I fought for balance on these high-heeled shoes. But more than anything, I struggled to understand the sharp look in her eyes when she’d brought up Henry. It was as if his death was the ultimate betrayal to her.

  “Isabelle,” my mother repeated. I blinked hard and long. Her look softened if only to appease me. “If anything, do this for him.”

  I nodded, and she let the door open, but before I passed through to my waiting guests, I turned on my heels toward the queen. She hooked her arm through my own and looked past me. “You can say his name, Mother,” I said as we walked side by side. “He won’t come back from the grave and haunt you if you chant it three times into the mirror at midnight.”

  She avoided my poisonous stare, but her nails dug into my arm. The door closed behind us where a single guard stood. I knew his name was Aliper because Lulu would drone on and on about him. His usual expressionless face bore a suppressed smile. He must have heard my joke to Mother. He gave me a secret wink before looking forward again. At least I wasn’t the only one with a sense of humor around here.

  Chapter 5

  With a long yawn, I watched over the room and the six people in it. I was related to four of them, even though I would have loved to disown my mother that evening. There were servants too, filling cups and bringing out the next course. They appeared and disappeared like ghosts.

  The hall was lit by every torch and fireplace along its thick stone walls, and the sweet smell of my uncle’s pipe made the air thick and hazy.

  And my head a little light.

  The smell of roasts and fresh bread, though, were just as delightful. Musicians played the harp and a mandolin, but it was mostly drowned out by conversation as dinner got along.

  At the head of the table was my mother, of course. Directly across from me sat Prince Ashe and his captain of the guard, a rugged middle-aged man with a pockmarked face, whom he introduced as Archibald Grayson Joel Apatami, a mouthful for someone without a royal bloodline. He seemed decent enough. Rounding out this strange evening were Lulu’s parents, who were positively indifferent. Quite the opposite of their daughter. When everything was lonely, she was my rock.

  As the night wore on, I was surprised to see that Prince Ashe resigned himself to only two glasses of wine. Admirable. There was nothing more irritating than a drunk royal. The laughter coming from the other end of the table proved that.

  “Tell me, Princess, what do you think of this year’s hunting?” asked Ashe.

  “Do you hunt?” I asked, smiling politely. “And how do you know that I do?”

  “It’s my job to know everything about everyone.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his long legs. He lowered his voice, “You come from a long line of excellent marksmen.”

  I tilted my head curiously, distracted by his eyes, which were a strange green like a blade of grass set on either side of a straight nose. If he wasn’t wearing that overly ornamental uniform, he could pass for someone decent. I began to wonder how hard his body was underneath all that fabric.

  “You should see her spitting range,” said Lulu through a mouthful of calf and potatoes.

  I nearly slapped my palm to my forehead. Gods, I wanted to kill her.

  Prince Ashe’s mouth quirked in a suppressed smile that squinted his eyes to mere slits. Pretty. Still…that smirk from earlier.

  “I imagine she could take out a partridge from a mile away,” he said and laughed. He gave a side glance at the adults, including Archibald, but they were all entwined in a story. “I’d like to see that one day. I hear your brother was also quite the shot. Did he teach you?”

  “My daughter likes to befriend the low-born,” my mother cut in. “I shiver to think of what else they’ve taught her to do.”

  “Still, he must have taught her a lot. He taught—”

  “Do you have many beautiful women on the islands, Prince?” My mother called for more wine and sipped her glass, casting an intense stare around the table, declaring the subject of Henry closed. “In your father’s letters, he mentioned how tall you had become, Ashe. You have turned into hi
s spitting image.”

  I was startled at the shift in conversation and glanced at my mother. Had she been in frequent correspondence with the King of the Peeks? Enough to comment on both father and son’s appearance? I bit the inside of my lip. What was the king’s name again? Dar? Daz…?

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ashe said, offhandedly, still looking at me. I rolled my eyes, but all he did was smile wider.

  “To answer your inquiry, we do not have such beautiful women on the Peeks. Not like here. I wasn’t aware that the Rowan house bred such beautiful creatures. I would have visited sooner.” He gave Lulu a broad smile. If she were candle wax, she’d be ready to be stamped. I wasn’t much better.

  “The Paratheon bloodline isn’t too shabby either,” I said. A compliment never hurt anyone.

  “Twins!” announced Archibald. He pointed a finger across the table to Lulu and me. “They could be twins.”

  “Good observation,” said Ashe, a sharp sting to his tone.

  I almost laughed. The prince deserved a laugh. I stared at the muscles of his bicep instead—and for far too long—when my mother snapped me from my trance.

  “Isabelle, I think it would be a grand idea to take Prince Ashe on a little forest trek.”

  Forest trek? She made it sound like I went out with a butterfly net while riding side saddle, singing. I knew by the way her eyes locked on mine that she was forcing me to remember her words. First bribing me with the ghost of my brother, and then mentioning that she’d take away my right to choose a husband? The delayed anger bubbled in my throat, and I gulped wine to wash it down. Then, I smiled. Butterflies. Sure.

  Prince Ashe cleared his throat to defuse the tension. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Your Majesty,” he said, though he kept his eyes on me. Formidable.

  Before I could respond, from the kitchen came six servants who each set a plate of strawberry tart in front of us. One of them was the new boy with the striking eyes in front of whom I’d almost cracked my neck the day before.

  I choked on the tart I’d just shoved into my mouth and almost died again.

  He looked my way as I wiped my mouth. Just a glance, quicker than the beat of a hummingbird wing. But in it, I saw everything. Humor. Maybe even a hint of hope that I would have choked to death. Most servants hated me. As if it were my fault my mother was so particular with her meals.

  “I am surprised that you employ these people,” said Archibald through a mouthful of tart. I looked at him. The way he said “these people” made me want to leap across the table and strangle him.

  “My idea, of course,” said my queen mother, a cup of tea in an ornamental cup nestled in her fingers. She sipped it gingerly and asked a passing servant for more sugar. When it was finally to her liking, she set down the cup with a soft clink and looked at the table. “They pledged allegiance to us.”

  “And you trust words?” Ashe cut in.

  Archibald snorted. “Or lack thereof.” He feigned a sad face that made him look like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Such a terrible illness.”

  Such a terrible liar. I glared at him.

  “Yes, well, some words are etched in stone.” My mother sipped from her glass.

  “Keeps them occupied.”

  “Occupied from what?” I asked, surprised at how loud the words had fallen from my lips.

  “They say birds carried it,” Archibald said, again through a mouthful of tart. He looked at my mother with the same hungry stare he gave the young servants. “A mass of spotted crows from the Old Kingdom, was it not?”

  My mother nodded and continued talking about how my father had had the flocks hunted and killed one by one, but not before hundreds upon hundreds were affected by the strange disease. This tragedy had occurred no more than a year before I was born.

  “Still,” said Ashe, sitting back in his chair. He raised a pensive hand to his chin as his tart sat untouched. “How could birds cause such a tragedy?”

  Archibald grunted loudly. “Ah, this is beyond your comprehension, Prince. Perhaps we should call a healer during our stay.”

  “I know a great one,” I said with obvious snark. “He can cure all sorts of…unpleasantries.” My words were met with a harsh stare from the queen.

  Ashe smiled and leaned over toward me. “You really shouldn’t be allowed to sit with the adults,” he said in a whisper.

  I cocked my head, leaning toward him just the same. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

  “It’s true,” Lulu agreed.

  “I’d like to meet this healer,” Ashe told me, a smile tugging at his lips. A smile meant for me and not the queen. It faded when he turned to his captain of the guard. “My comprehension is none of your concern, Captain. Let’s keep your expertise centered on the right way to stand when a king enters the room.”

  At that instant, I sized up Prince Ashe. I’d seen the way my mother swooned over him, and now the way he could command those beneath him, but it wasn’t that or even his good looks that captured my interest. It was in the moments between feeding and drinking and laughing that I discovered something. Not only were his eyes kind, but they seemed to see the world around him as if there were more to it. Like they were looking beyond a veil, trying to figure out whose shadow was whose.

  He was indeed something different all together, despite my apprehensions.

  I liked him.

  And then I couldn’t breathe.

  It hit me like the butt of a sword. They had been friends. My brother once spent a summer in the Peek Islands. When he returned, he taught me what he had learned from Ashe. Fishing, hunting, and even weaponry. I couldn’t believe that I had forgotten the relationship they’d had, as if Henry dying had erased everything before.

  My eyes stung. I wiped them with my napkin and gulped down my glass of wine. It hurt my throat. All the while, servants moved between us, collecting plates and serving more tea. This marked the end of the evening. Hopefully. But the way my aunt, uncle, and mother kept requesting wine, it seemed I might as well set up a cot under the table.

  “When would you like to go?”

  I jumped at Prince Ashe’s voice. He leaned forward with both elbows on the table, his fingers tracing his open mouth as he awaited my answer.

  “What?” I fiddled with my necklace, needing something to occupy my hands.

  He squinted. “To the forest.” Then, he smirked. “Off someplace else just then?”

  I raised my chin, tightening the imaginary noose around my neck. “I hear everything, Prince of the Peeks,” I boasted, feeling my cheeks warm. The wine made me flushed as well as brave. However, that tightening didn’t let up, and it worsened when he looked at me. Nobody else noticed. They were all far too busy. “I just don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Will you show me the forest?” Prince Ashe asked. “We could go together.”

  Like you’d get those pretty hands dirty. My mother threw me a look like she had read my mind. I shrugged casually and picked up my glass, pretending to drink it. “It would be my pleasure.” I said.

  “We could make a day of it,” the prince suggested. He prattled on about the differences between Mirosa and the islands, but it turned into a hum. The room began to spin even though I was sitting still. My throat squeezed with something I had learned to swallow my entire life.

  Straighten up.

  Smile.

  Wear your corset.

  A heaviness sank into my belly. I could almost hear the words in my head. A warning. I was becoming overwhelmed. I needed to step away, to calm down and reevaluate. But how…

  “Izzy?” whispered my cousin.

  Her voice startled me back. I found a freckle on her nose; my mind latched onto it.

  * * *

  “He taught me to use a bow, you know,” said Ashe, his voice low, out of ear-shot of my mother. “I was always keen on the sword. There’s nothing like the feeling of iron in your hands, but the bow is rather fun.”

  My world spun and tilted. My mother
’s laughing boomed as if she were a giant and I merely an ant. The table elongated as if it stretched for a hundred miles. I kept replaying Ashe’s words. I knew him too. As if nobody else could have known him the way I had known him. An irrational thought. A selfish one.

  “Stop,” I whispered. The warning in my head got louder. The danger point grew near. “Stop talking about Henry.”

  “I was just—” He stopped and glanced at my mother, but she was laughing over some joke my aunt made. “I’m sorry about your brother, Isabelle.”

  “No, you don’t talk about him. You don’t get to be sorry.”

  Ashe nodded knowingly. “I think I do. I knew him too.”

  I seethed, ready for a retort, but Lulu kicked my calf, almost scaring me off my chair. “Izzy, what’s wrong?”

  Though I was still seated, I had the strange sensation of falling. “I don’t know.”

  Part of me did know. Sometimes, this feeling would pass, and sometimes I’d laugh or cry it away. Sometimes, I’d feel so desperate for something I didn’t understand that I’d feel as if I were standing on the highest cliff, my boots skidding on the loose rocks. And I’d fall into nothing where nobody would ever find me.

  Sometimes I’d scream, but it made no difference. It solved nothing. Besides, no one would hear me anyhow.

  Something lurched in my stomach, threatening to expel my dinner. I couldn’t throw up. Not here. Not now.

  No. Not throw up. My body wanted something else. It wanted me to run.

  I rose to my feet as calmly as possible. Prince Ashe almost tipped his chair over as he stood in response. “Would you all please excuse me?” I asked with a slight head tilt, suppressing the urge that tore at my insides.

  “Where are you going, Isabelle?” asked my mother sharply. The table fell completely silent.

  I looked at her and breathed in, words sticking in my throat—words I’d regret, so I swallowed them. Lulu knew, the way she gawked up at me from her seat, biting her tongue, hoping and praying I’d shut up and act civil. Finally, I managed, “A girl must keep herself pretty when in such polite company.”