I went to the mirror at my vanity. My eyes, gaunt and tired, reflected how I felt. I wiped the tears. The blood. Fray's blood.
If he died, it would be my fault.
“I didn’t know,” said Lulu’s sweet voice from someplace far off. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how,” I said, clinging to my reflection for just a moment more before turning to Lulu. “Would you have believed me?”
“You’re a lot of things, Izzy,” she said, suppressing a laugh. “A liar is not one of them.”
I walked into Lulu’s arms, and she held me there until a knock on my door pulled us apart. Crim opened it and braced it with one arm as the much smaller, younger guard behind him cleared his throat. I recognized him as the one at whom my cousin aimed her current adoration, but she did not give him her attention. She kept her gaze on me and grasped my hand tightly.
“You requested the status of the servant boy,” said the young guard. I motioned him to continue, keeping Lulu as my stronghold. He said, “He’s going to live.”
I let a gush of air escape my lungs. Will you take me to him? I signed to Crim.
Lulu reached for me, but she only grasped air. “Izzy, where are you going?”
With trembling hands,
I pulled on my cloak and drew the hood. “I’m going to see him.”
Chapter 17
Once Crim left me at the entrance to the catacombs, my breath calmed, and the rush of panic I’d felt before dissipated. The thought of Fray alive was enough to slow my racing heart. Fray Castor, a servant boy from beyond the Archway, the one who saved my life. Now, I had saved his.
I think. I couldn’t be sure what had happened to the wolf-man. Had I injured it enough to kill it, or did it go back to wherever it came from and lick its wounds? If it came back, would I be able to fight it off again? I’d barely done it the first time.
“Are you lost?” a voice said from the darkness ahead of me.
I rose my torch to the pockmarked face of Archibald Grayson Joel Apatami. He walked slow and stiff, resting a hand on the butt of the sword at his hip as he came to a stop, barely a breath away from me.
“Surely you are,” I replied. “There’s nothing but herbs and death down here, you know. I doubt you’ve come to find a cure for your incessant nature.” I cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
“I was checking on the boy. I am more than the womanizer I am sure the prince has made me out to be.”
I almost gagged. “I’m sure you’re blameless.”
Archibald moved aside to let me pass. In the gloom of the underground, his eyes looked dark, almost black. “You shouldn’t be in such a place.” He took a threatening step toward me, parting his lips. “You’re such a pretty little thing. Death does not suit you.”
“I can be in any place I choose,” I said, throwing my shoulders back and rising onto the balls of my feet. If only he knew how little his opinion mattered to me, and that I wouldn’t touch him had he been the last man in the world. “This is my home.” I tilted my head and added, “Captain,” before I left.
I walked down the corridor and turned left toward the infirmary rooms. Only one of them lit from inside—the one on whose doorknob my hand rested. I held my breath as I opened it and peered inside.
A murky water basin, a small table with a glass of water on it, and a bed made up the room. The bed, directly in front of me, held Fray, a thin sheet covering his body up to his chin. He lay perfectly still, his hands clasped together on his chest above the sheet.
He was alive.
It was a wonder that only a few hours ago I had been careless, wading in the spring with Ashe and scoring the best set of antlers I’d ever come upon. It felt like ages ago. It felt as though it never was. Somehow, this mattered a little bit more.
I tucked my hands into the pockets of my cloak. “I’m glad you’re alive,” I said. I waved a hand over Fray's face to make sure that he was still sleeping. “That means we’re even. No more debt. I bet you’ll be glad to be rid of me.”
I paced the room, battling a raging inner monologue with myself. Fray had been dead. I smelled his blood. I saw the tears. It’d been so long since Henry’s death, and it still left me feeling as though I could never trust anyone when they said they’d return. And I was angry—angry because Fray never said he would return at all.
I was back at his bedside, looking down at him, coming face-to-face with the terrible truth. He smelled like the forest, all soil, air, and wood. It reminded me of something I’d dreamed of.
“I think I don’t want you to go,” I whispered.
Then he opened his eyes, and I saw him.
Alive.
He returned my gasp with a blank stare. Had he been listening?
Could you help me sit up, he signed.
I recoiled at first, wanting to run. I must have looked worried because he asked what was wrong. I diverted my attention to the sheet that had fallen away and the bandage wrapped around his torso, and then I helped him sit up.
“What was it?” I asked. “He turned into a monster. Tell me what I saw.”
Fray said nothing. His hair had been plastered to his forehead, so he brushed it aside. It was dirty, glossy with oil and disheveled, as if he had merely woken up from a long nap. On his face and arms were several small cuts, most likely from the thorn bushes. He propped up another pillow behind his back and exhaled, biting his lower lip. It was then that he acknowledged the cuts on my own hands.
Did you kill him?
“No,” I said. “Not from lack of trying.”
You’re formidable. You don’t need me.
I smiled. There was something different about the way he looked at me now. He seemed almost…impressed. “I never said I needed you.”
Fray looked down, his blue eyes hidden under dark eyelashes. Thank you.
“Where does that leave us?”
We’re even. Life for a life.
“But there’s magic out there!” I snapped my mouth closed. I glanced at the door of Fray’s room and then at Fray himself. The walls of this castle had ears, and I’d do good to adhere to keeping my voice down, especially when speaking of something so bizarre my mother would be apt to question my sanity. “There are men who turn into wolves, and you expect me to just go and put on some pretty dresses and what?” I signed the last word. Forget.
I composed myself the best I could and made for the doorway. I was the Princess of Mirosa, an empire that was growing by the minute. I had the company of a prince, a future, a crown, an endless array of gowns and banquets and balls to attend. I knew it was all mundane. It all felt like loneliness. Because it was, and I knew it.
Fray had pulled his hand from mine when Ashe had come. The way he diverted his gaze from the prince every time he served him…. Maybe he had an aversion to princes. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
I turned on my heels to meet Fray’s eyes, far too bright a blue to even exist in a mortal world. “Were you tracking those men?”
Fray nodded.
“Why?”
A blank stare.
I took a deep breath. “Answer me, Fray Castor.”
A lick of his lips, and he signed, Don’t order me around.
“You’re a servant in my castle,” I bit back. I signed the rest for fear of losing my temper and someone overhearing. I can do whatever I like.
Fray’s mouth twitched. Good. Then I quit.
“Good.”
Good.
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. Why was I letting him rile me up? “You are impossible.”
You’re not used to hearing the word ‘no’.
I stood there, stunned. He had a point.
I realized that being in a small space with Fray Castor was not going to be healthy for me. We were too clouds in a thunderstorm. We were going to smash together at some point, and it was not going to be pretty.
“I will handle it on my own. I don’t need this.”
Fray dipped his chin and rubbed the back of his neck. How do you expect to do that, Princess?
I leaned forward with a grin. “I don’t know. I did stab a monster wolf a bunch of times.”
He smiled, just a little bit, but enough for my pulse to quicken. Was this the first time I’d seen him smile? It had to be. There was a rustiness to it, as though it were something he very rarely did. Do you want to be a warrior, Princess?
I lifted my chin. “Would it be so strange?”
His smile faded as quickly as it came. No.
“We have much to discuss then, Fray Castor.”
I will keep close the best I can until they are gone.
“Do you know anything about the phrase, ‘I am the beast’?”
Fray straightened, drawing a pained expression. Where exactly did you hear that?
“It was written on a rock in the forest.” I didn’t tell him about what the old woman, Abiyaya, had said, but something else gave me pause. “And my attacker, he said it to me that night. I’ve only just remembered.”
Fray’s lips were pulled in tightly to the point of nonexistence. His look pinned me where I stood. The magic is not what you think it is, he signed quickly. It wasn’t something they were born with. It was something we were pushed to. Do you understand?
“No, I don’t,” I replied. Much of the history surrounding the Old Kingdom was unavailable, at least as far as I knew. I was never taught about its people, save for the wars we raged with them. I lived in this castle and knew nothing about Mirosa’s own past. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
If Fray saw, he didn’t show it. He let out a long, sharp exhale and let it hang there. He’d conceded to my pestering, but not for long.
“Do you know what that phrase means?”
I asked, trying to meet his eyes. “How many of those things are left, Fray?”
He held up three fingers.
The breath rushed out of my lungs.
Three left? That meant…
I sat down on the edge of the bed and took a long look at him. “You killed five of them?”
He shook his head. It would have been six, had I not considered…
He pressed his lips together, putting his fingers to them, chewing on his nails. I marveled at his hands. They looked tense, as if he was struggling to not do more with them than sign. There was death on those hands. Blood. Ravaging strength.
“But how? All on your own?” My body stilled as I awaited his answer. But none came.
“Why do they want to kill me? What are they? Why should you care?”
Fray shook his head. Why should I care? Maybe because I don’t want to be part of a war any longer. I want— He hesitated and looked away. I want to be—
“Normal,” I finished, just as he signed the word. The smile I’d seen earlier came and went in a flash. “
I know your secret.”
A flash of blue.
I cocked my head, unsure. “The hole in the wall, Fray Castor.” It came out sounding more like a question than a statement.
Fray leaned forward, a look of purpose in his eyes, and signed, Fine. Let’s strike a deal then. You determine what that phrase means, and once you see that it doesn’t frighten you, come and visit me. I will tell you everything you want to know. Do we have ourselves a deal?
This was the closest I was going to get to a yes, so I nodded.
Don’t tell anyone. Do you understand?
Just then, the door opened. I jumped as a heavy-set maid stepped in cautiously upon seeing me. She carried a tray of food, bread, and what looked like mashed taters with gravy. She bowed low.
I nodded quickly and slid past her into the hall. A gush of cold air blasted me, and I shivered, making my way down the corridor, feeling so many questions left unanswered. So many words left unsaid.
Chapter 18
“I have very strange and awkward feelings toward a Voiceless servant with a bad attitude and a penchant for murdering wolf-men. Also, Ashe Paratheon says ‘hello’.”
I bent over Henry’s grave, patting down the earth so it was even. The morning was clear but blustery. I kept having to swat falling leaves away from my hair. It was the only place I could think of to be at this moment. If anybody had answers to what was going on in my head, it would be my brother.
“Listen, I know you did some things that you weren’t proud of,” I said. “Things you hid from me.” I scoffed. “I wish you hadn’t. The war is still going on, Henry, though not in the same way you saw. Not the same one that got you—” Killed. The word was too ugly to utter. “Father is still out there. He broke apart an entire race of people and destroyed their land. It wasn’t enough. Henry, he’s still beyond the Archway. What is he looking for out there?”
I stood and brushed the dirt from my skirt. “You once told me that the dead listen. I hope you’re not dead. I hope you’re somewhere out there living happily. But I still hope you hear me.”
Someone clearing their throat made me turn my head. A guard was walking up toward me. He bowed low and spoke upon straightening. “Your mother requests your presence, Your Highness.”
I groaned. We didn’t speak much, except when the discussion involved marriage, so I expected this to be no different. I’d hidden from her all morning, having taken up residence in the castle library before I’d given up my search for anything on the Old Kingdom and went down to speak to Henry.
I bid goodbye to my brother and followed the guard. The combination of fresh air and a light stroll along the upper levels of the castle which held the best view of the city sparked the realization that the library was not the only place that held books in Mirosa. Especially if I was looking for those whose history hinted at darker places. The only question was when I could steal away into the towns and to the one place I was forbidden to go. The Barge.
“A crow from your father came today,” my mother said as I entered her chambers. “In it, he confessed his deep apologies for not being there when you were hurt and expressed his love.”
I was quite sure that there had been more, but that was all my mother said before folding up the piece of paper and stuffing it into the pocket of her skirt. Another letter peeked from within, a gray wax seal that looked like the Peek Islands fish symbol. Letters from King Paratheon, I assumed. Gods, what was the man’s first name?
“This boy,” she said, pacing the room. The curtains were drawn, leaving us in a forced dusk. “The servant. Do you know him?”
The answer came without hesitation. “No.”
My mother closed the space between us. She smelled of peppermint. “But you have seen him before. Correct?”
I held my breath and then let go. “Of course.”
“And what do you think of him?”
I held my place in front of my mother, staring into her dark eyes. The same eyes as Henry, the eyes that lost a little bit of their life when he went away. And his death had filled those eyes with nothing but pent-up despair.
“I think of him as one would think of a servant,” I replied, firm and calm, hoping my rapid heartbeat wouldn’t give me away.
“Hmph.” Her stare grated like a rock against my bones. “I notice the smallest of things. A look. A touch. A thought. Lest you forget, I am also a woman, and that boy’s eyes could tear a woman apart.” She smiled coyly. “I am not blind to beauty when I see it.”
She stared at me, hunting for some truth. I nearly folded, confided like a daughter should, until I remembered the way she hadn’t believed me about that night I had been shot.
“Infatuation,” she added, “is fleeting. Daydream if you must, take a lover if you must, but remember who you are, Isabelle.”
I didn’t answer right away. I looked at my shoes, my dress, and around the room at the beautiful furniture and velvet carpets. And beyond that, my mother’s bed in the adjoining room and at the foot of it, a pair of men’s trousers. My mother followed my line of sight and blocked my view and said, “It is fleeting.”
&n
bsp; I nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” She whirled on her heels and walked toward the desk. “Your father has requested that we hold a Black and White Ball,” she said. A smile raised her cheeks. “This isn’t a question of whether you would like to attend. This is not a request.”
A Black and White Ball, a choosing ceremony. Every available male in the kingdom would be there. Everyone I had either kissed or made a fool of would be there. There would be no more guests to entertain for days, weeks, months on end. I was to choose a husband then and there.
I teetered between the urges to scream in anger or burst into tears.
My mother held up the invitation. It was etched in gold and smelled of expensive perfume. “These go out today. Fifty of them. In two weeks’ time, we will arrange a wedding date.” She put the paper down, approached me, and took my hand in hers. Her wedding ring, a polished emerald set into Mirosian steel, weighed down my hand like a boulder. She kept it taut. “It’s a formality. We all know you will choose Prince Ashe.” And then she released my hand and was gone.
I stood before the entrance to the towns, watching the people stream in and out.
I pulled the hood of Henry’s cloak further over my head and tucked my hair away. A finer cloak would have attracted attention, and I couldn’t bear to lose time or focus. The sense of anonymity felt a whole lot like freedom. Like how I felt when I was in the woods.
How I felt when I was around Fray Castor.
People hardly glanced my way as I walked past them, heading straight through the well-paved roads of the city and toward ones less pristine and rougher than the ones I’d come to know. The buildings grew more dilapidated as I went on and the roads narrowed, closing in on me. The smell of backed-up sewage and garbage filled the air. Surely, my father must know how some of his own people lived. But this was not the part of the city royals usually toured.
This could all be folly. I might not find anything, and if I didn’t, should I go back to Fray empty-handed? He was trusting me with this. I had to try. If not for him, for myself and for all the times my parents avoided my questions about the Voiceless. All the times they failed to speak of Henry.
Unspoken Page 13
