Unspoken
Page 12
“Oh,” I breathed, but before his mouth could even touch mine, my head gave an involuntary spasm. His forehead knocked against mine and I reeled back, nearly falling on my butt. Instead, I ended up in a half crouch with my arms splayed out like wings.
Ashe cursed and fumbled to help me upright.
“Isabelle, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
I knew exactly what got into him. He was a prince, and I was a princess, and he was doing his duty to both of our kingdoms. Maybe I should have kissed Ashe. His mouth was perfect for kissing. But that would please my mother, and I went out of my way to do just the opposite.
Gods, the things she’d do if I’d kissed Fray Castor.
I tensed up, unsure why such a thought would even cross my mind. Surely that poisoned arrow had gotten to my brain and made me reckless. But the thought filled me with a warmth that had nothing to do with the embarrassment of nearly kissing Ashe and more to do with the memory of Fray’s fingers brushing away my tears. The scent of him, like forests and everything wild, flooded me so quickly I nearly fell over onto my butt again.
“Isabelle, say something. This silence is killing me.”
“It’s all right.” I diverted my eyes from him, wishing the moment had never happened. I willed it all away. Thoughts of Fray and all.
Ashe gave a click of his tongue. I followed his gaze toward the King’s Road, where Tamir and Archibald waited. “How about we try it out? Where’s the good hunting around here?”
Forgetting the embarrassing kissing attempt, I nearly jumped into his arms. He was so kind and good-hearted that it was a wonder that he was a prince at all. I balanced on my bare toes and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled when I pulled away.
“Well, you lead the way, then,” Ashe said. He had to blink a dozen times to get his bearings.
I pulled on my boots and hopped off into the trees. “This way, Prince!”
We stalked through the woods, side by side, Ashe with his own hunting knife poised and ready. I was unsure of what he expected to happen at first, but from the way he always kept close to me, I concluded that he believed me about the attack.
A blacktail buck with an exquisite rack of antlers appeared. Twelve points, maybe. Less than twenty feet away on a small rise. It was the same one I had seen over a week ago. The one that got away.
“This one is mine.” I prepared the bow, pulling back the sinew string and licking my lips. Ashe stood behind me, watching my every move with deep interest.
One.
I breathed out and in through my nose, feeling the arrow under my chin. Feet angled. Shoulders low.
Two.
I transferred the weight of the bow to my back. For an unfamiliar weapon, it felt surprisingly comfortable, but I reserved judgment and aimed.
Three.
A quick burst of crows from the trees. I jerked just as I let my arrow fly. I dropped the bow as we both covered our heads against the sudden onslaught of wings. When I looked up, the buck was gone.
“Damn.” Never one to let a kill escape, I picked up the bow and ran to where the buck had been. There, I saw blood. A trickle on a leaf. Fresh and bright.
“I think one of them got me,” said Ashe from behind me. He groaned and then laughed nervously. “Yeah, definitely got me.”
“The probability of that was high,” I said, keeping my eyes to the ground. “It’s hurt. We have to find it.”
We ran through the trees until we reached the meadow. I stopped at the edge of the forest, crouching low in the brush. Doing a quick scan of the large area, I could see the deer making its escape, slowly but surely, into the woods where the mountains peeked over the trees like the tips of an arrow head . Wounding the buck gave me the advantage. If I could outrun it, I could take my prize. If not, we’d lose it in the mountains for sure.
I stowed my bow and ran, making great strides as the grass blurred around me. Ashe didn’t need to call for me to slow down or even stop. He matched my pace, right beside me the entire way.
“There.” He pointed toward a large cave between two fire-orange trees. “I saw it go in there.”
I took off my bow and quiver and set them down at Ashe’s feet when we approached the opening of the cave. I drew out Henry’s dagger. “Stay here,” I told him.
“I should come with you.”
“I’ll be fine. Wait here.”
Ashe hesitated at first and I thought for a moment he’d let that ever-protective prince take over. But he shook his head after a moment and clicked his tongue, realizing I was going with or without his consent. “Get him, Isabelle.”
I smiled before disappearing into the darkness. “Izzy. Call me Izzy,” I said. “I’ll whistle if I need you.”
The cave turned out to be a tunnel with a narrow opening only a dozen feet ahead of me. I could have called Ashe through, only a sound pricked my ears as well as the wounded buck’s as he lay at the opening on the other side.
I hushed the deer as I approached it, dagger drawn. I spotted my arrow protruding out from a spot in its breast. It let me draw close, its dark eyes following me, its breath labored. I grazed its nose and then carried my hand along the head until I was confident he wouldn’t flail, then slid my dagger across its throat quick and soundless, as I had been taught.
I heard a whisper of leaves as a rabbit disappeared into the lip of the tunnel behind me. As I turned toward it, something along the stones caught my eyes. I slowly came to my feet.
The breath caught.
Penned upon the rocks, in crimson, were the words: I am the beast.
As if in a trance, I traced my finger along the entire sentence. Abiyaya had said the same thing to me that day in the market, that she had seen it in me. You are the beast. I placed my palm against the stone. What did it mean?
I whipped my head toward the sound of rustling leaves. Something disembodied was carried with it. Strange, like the moan of a ghost in the midnight hour.
Then I heard it. A voice. At first, so low that it passed for a breeze. Then it grew clearer until it took shape. It called my name. Ice ran through my veins.
“Ashe?” I said in a hoarse whisper. I stepped toward it, moving away from the blood pooling around the buck. Leaves stuck to the sole of my boot as I ambled toward the sound.
Dagger drawn, eyes wide, I stalked through a thick gathering of vines, stopping every so often to listen. I hadn’t gone far when there was a flicker of movement.
It could be another deer, I told myself. But the chances of an animal speaking my name were very low.
I moved forward despite my mind’s objections. I drew in a sharp breath, catching the scent of something foul and wrong.
I froze. “Turn around, Izzy,” I whispered to myself. “Have some good sense for once.”
The words had no sooner left my mouth when something collided into me, knocking me to the ground. I scrambled to my feet in an instant.
A robed man drew to his full height in front of me. I backed away as he raised both palms. They began to glow like they were stars, blinking in and out. His teeth gleamed in the light as he bared them.
“My luck has changed,” he said, wagging a finger as he eyed my dagger. “Do you plan on killing me, little girl? Do you not know what I am?”
“What are you?” My eyes wouldn’t leave the man’s hands and the bizarre way they crackled with tiny sparks. I tightened my grip on my dagger.
“You took from us,” the man said. “Did you think we’d tuck our tails forever?”
The wolf. This had to be the man I’d seen that night I was attacked. There was no doubt in my mind. But if he was here, did that mean—
The snap of a broken branch was enough to send the man whirling to face Fray, who stood with his body poised to fight.
For a moment, we all froze. I took a step toward Fray, who raised his hand, warning me to stop where I was.
The two men met each other’s gaze. For a moment, I thought the man would flee. He would either see the t
hreat in Fray or sense that Ashe and our guards were somewhere nearby. But the wolf-man grinned and did not flee.
Hope drained from me like blood from the throat of the stag I’d killed.
In one swift motion, Fray drew a set of knives and lunged toward the man. He slashed left and then right and every time, the wolf-man dodged the attacks like he could predict them before they came. Fray went high, eyes fixed on the man’s throat, leaving himself open. He took a knee to the gut but quickly recovered, getting in one good slash to the man’s arm.
Someone shouted, and since Fray couldn’t speak and I was frozen in place, it had to be the robed man. It sounded like a poem at first, but by the time I removed my palms from my eyes, I realized it was more of an incantation. I caught sight of Fray as he watched the man speak. Fear covered his face like a veil.
He turned and signed for me to run before darting away. The robed man followed. First on two feet.
And then on four.
I gaped in horror as the man shed his clothes and pursued Fray into the trees, no longer a man, and very much a monstrous gray wolf.
The thought of Fray facing the beast alone trumped my urge to scream. My body flared with heat, and I followed Fray’s path. I didn’t slow my pace until I heard the wolf’s howl. I squeezed the hilt of my dagger and ignored the panic wanting to seize my heart.
I followed them, deeper into the trees, as they fended one another off. The sound of teeth on steel pricked my skin. Fray wouldn’t be able to hold the beast off for long. Not without tiring.
This is a hunt, I told myself. It’s just like any wild beast.
There was a sickening snarl and the distinct sound of something hitting the forest floor. I stopped short, nearly slipping on the fallen leaves beneath me. I saw the wolf and only the wolf.
I stiffened only for a moment.
Catching the wolf by surprise was the only thing I had on my side. I lunged toward it, my dagger drawn to cut the beast down. I came down on it, weapon raised over my head, slicing into its body. The steel of my dagger sank into its flesh. When the wolf howled in protest, I withdrew and stabbed again, this time slicing the animal’s leg in the very place that would be fatal to a human being. I withdrew again and prepared for a third blow when I realized the wolf was retreating. I watched breathlessly as it disappeared before I sunk to the ground.
My relief was short-lived. I looked up to find Fray lying on the forest floor, not far from where I sat.
I took a deep, staggering breath, put two fingers to my lips, and blew. After my whistle, I screamed Ashe’s name and scrambled to Fray where he lay, still and bloodied.
Chapter 16
“Fray?”
He laid among the leaves, covered head-to-toe in blood and dirt, brush in his hair, small cuts upon his cheeks and brow. His shirt was in shreds and both hands gripped his abdomen. He was unmoving, eyes closed, barely breathing.
I sheathed my dagger and sank to my knees, putting my ear to the place where his heart ticked slowly. I examined his body for a wound, my hands swirling the blood like paint.
His eyes opened sluggishly, a fading blue, the color draining.
He lifted his hand, revealing a gash on his side, just below his last rib. No, not a wound, three gashes, four, five…
He signed to me: It isn’t all mine. He attempted a smile, but pain distorted his face. He squeezed my hand urgently.
I took a sharp breath.
My heart twisted as I tore off a piece of my tunic. With unsteady hands, I pressed the fabric against the wounds. It soaked through in an instant.
“It’s going to be all right.” The words weren’t only meant for him. I repeated them like a mantra as Fray intertwined his bloodied fingers with my own as if telling me the same in his own way.
“Izzy!”
Fray pulled his hand away in an instant.
I turned to see Ashe coming toward me. It only took a half beat for him to remove his own shirt and drape it over Fray’s body. He performed his own examination of the wounds and with a disparaged look said, “We have to get him back to the castle. Izzy? Are you listening to me?”
I nodded through the sensation of the trees closing in around me.
One.
“Izzy,” said Ashe gently.
I looked down at Fray. He reached a hand to my cheek, and everything came back into view, slowly, like I was coming out of a fog.
His fingertips brushed my skin as if we were the only two people in the world.
“Izzy, we have to get him to your healer.”
Ashe pressed.
“He won’t make it. He’ll die.”
Die?
The word snapped me out of it. I took Fray’s hand in one of my own and used the other to grip his shoulder as I sat him up. Tears cut the slivers of blood and grime along his face, and for a second it seemed he was starting to faint until Ashe gave a smack to his face.
“I know you can’t tell us how it feels, but some of us have a clear understanding, my friend,” said Ashe, hoisting Fray to his feet. “Izzy, if you go ahead and get onto the other side, we can act as crutches and walk him back to the horses. Got it?”
I nodded, placing Fray’s arm around my neck and bracing my hand at his waistline. With every step, I felt his body tremble as if he were in the depths of the coldest waters.
He’d go into shock soon enough, and that, Pyrus had once told me, was the last step toward the golden afterlife.
It felt like an eternity had passed when we got back to where Archibald and Tamir waited. Tamir, being the biggest of the four of us, put Fray onto the front of his horse, dug in his heels, and darted off. I stood side by side with Ashe. A strange feeling coursed through me—a painful weakness. I could have prevented this. But I’d made him promise to keep my family safe, and it had almost gotten Fray killed.
Henry had been the strong one. It had come naturally to him. Why couldn’t I be the same way?
On the ride back to the castle I wondered what it felt like to die.
I knew the pain. I knew it well. I also knew there was something after it. A wisp of wind in your hair. A candle snuffed out at the butt end. A shadow, fading at sunset.
I held the reins of my horse with one hand, and with the other, I covered my face as I sobbed.
“Are you all right?”
Ashe’s gaze was lined with pity, his bare torso streaked with dried blood. I smelled it on him. It consumed my senses, as if I were standing in the center of a butcher’s room.
Hours had passed since arriving back at the castle. I sat outside of one of the infirmary rooms in the catacombs, still in my filthy clothes. Even when Pyrus told me that Fray was still breathing, I knew he wasn’t in the clear. I sat there trying to think of anything and everything other than my trembling hands and the way my body wanted to implode on itself.
I supposed that I looked as bad I felt because Ashe gave me an empathetic look. If he had a blanket, he would have wrapped it around my shoulders by now.
“You insinuated that you knew what it was like to be injured like that,” I said. “Is that true?”
He exhaled through his nose. “My father. Drew a sword and slashed my flesh when I was just twelve years old.” I followed his gaze to a scar just below his left ribcage. He tried to wipe Fray’s blood away, but it had already dried. “He told me that pain was a part of life and to know it well.”
“Do you?”
Ashe lowered his voice to a whisper. He squinted one eye where a streak of red ran across his cheekbone like war paint. “Nobody really can. Except those who are dead.”
I drew my knees into my chest and rested my forehead on them, burying my face as tears swelled. “Thank you for helping him.”
“Did you know him?”
I remembered the desperate way Fray’s hand closed around mine as if he wanted his body to feel something other than the pain that was crippling him. He looked at me like I was all that kept him from life and death. A look of unbearable frailty.
Back in my room, the water in my basin darkened to red as I washed my skin. I stood there with my hands under the running water, catching the tears as I gulped and gasped, my entire body rocking with sobs.
A stabbing pain came with each breath. Right in my shoulder where the arrow had pierced me. I fell to my knees on the floor of my washroom just as Lulu entered, catching me in her arms. She smelled pretty, like a field of flowers.
“I heard what happened,” she said, cradling me like a mother would her child. “Will he live?”
I lifted my shoulders and got to my feet. Lulu followed me into my room, matching my pace, and said, “I hold faith that he will.”
I turned to her and managed a smile. She said those words as if they were fact, like she knew how everything would turn out. Suddenly, I wanted to tell her everything about Fray and me. But I still wasn’t even sure what it was, if anything at all. Until I had it sorted, I held back.
And then I said, “He saved me.”
“What?”
“He saved me that night, and I think he was out there trying to find the men he didn’t kill, so…” I caught my breath. “…so that they wouldn’t kill me, and now he’s going to die, and it’s my fault.”
Lulu pulled me into her arms, and for a moment it felt good, but I wasn’t myself. I was destroying everything I knew, and it burned and burned and turned to ash. I pulled away from Lulu, almost scared that she would catch fire, too.
I hadn’t been that scared since the day my mother came into my room, sick with grief, and told me that I had become the sole heir to Mirosa. I hadn’t felt that anguish since. Not even when I thought I was going to die. Not even when my father went back to the Archway.
So why now? The baker had warned me not to befriend him, and I had made the elementary mistake of attempting to do so. I had done everything right in my life, to a certain point, where it counted. What had gone wrong?