“You were good, weren’t you?” I whispered.
Later, I paced the length of my bedroom with Lulu at my heels. “My mother will lock down the entire castle,” I said. “She won’t let anyone in or out.”
“For good reason,” Lulu said. I heard her let loose a long breath. “Izzy, that was really scary.”
My world spun to an abrupt halt. Lulu stood at the foot of my bed, her arms wrapped around her. If there were a moment to tell her everything, it would be now. But by the way she seemed to shiver every few minutes, the need to protect her far outweighed the truth.
I took my cousin’s hand and held it tight. I brought her close until our foreheads touched. We stayed like that for a long time, using each other as support, as we always had and always would. It will be all right, I wanted to tell her. But the shadows grew within my mind and told me the opposite.
You are frightened, Isabelle. And this fear will kill you.
The chill in my bones returned. The monsters were getting closer. I was no longer safe.
Chapter 20
I dreamt that I was walking down that hallway again. As before, the walls on either side of me were set ablaze. I stood still as the ceiling warped, as if someone held the world in their hands, like they were twisting the water free from a towel.
Henry materialized before me, handsome with the shadow of a beard, hair in long black curls, and wearing a black overcoat that hovered just above his ankles. He looked so much like I remembered him before he went away to war. He beckoned with a finger and a smile before disappearing through a door. I twisted the doorknob and pulled.
It opened onto an eternal sweep of tall grass. Sunlight powdered the world around me, the warmth replacing the sear of the red banners behind me. Something rumbled like approaching thunder.
Henry appeared again. This time he was much thinner, his hair cropped, wearing brown leather breeches and a matching tunic. Between his hands, he carried his blade against his breast. I sucked in my breath sharply. At his feet lay a bent crown.
A dark look passed over his face. We stood atop a hill overlooking a massive battlefield. Below, the thundering clash of steel against steel sounded loud, but it was the screams of the wounded that were louder than anything.
“Were you here?” I asked him.
Henry took one hand off his blade and slowly pointed below to a severe-looking man riding atop a black stallion. He wore a hooded cloak that billowed like smoke around his armor-clad body. Slowly, the hood peeled away as the rider came to a stop. I shrank back at the sight.
His hair was still black and his face less creased. But it wasn’t those things that filled me with recognition. His eyes—gods, his eyes. They were like mine. They were like Henry’s.
My father.
He rode into a cluster of trees, away from the battle. Four soldiers followed. Without thinking, I began to run. I stumbled and staggered around bodies; some reached out to the heavens to guide them while others brought it upon themselves to end their lives. I cupped a hand to my mouth and ran faster until I reached the trees. There, I heard a desperate cry, “Why are you just standing there? Do something!”
His voice. Oh gods, his voice!
Henry. The real Henry, covered head to toe in dirt and blood. His forehead was bleeding into his eyes. A fresh wound. Two held him by his arms while the other two descended on him, flanked by our father now dismounted from his horse. “Tell me why,” said my father in a flat voice. “Tell me why you did it.”
“Would it matter?” asked Henry. His body sagged against the men who forced him to his feet. “You can’t let me go like this. We both know how this is going to end, Father.”
I gaped at my father and his polished, silver plate maille. The bear, the symbol of Mirosa, jaws open as if it were about to leap from its steel prison upon his chest plate. He raised the bill of his helmet that had been made to resemble a roaring bear with teeth of steel. That helmet had me frightened back then, and it still frightened me now.
He approached my brother, his only son, with nothing short of indifference. With his right hand, he touched Henry’s head and bowed as if in silent prayer. And with his left arm, he took the sword from its sheath. Henry looked up, his chest heaving. I had never seen him so weak and so scared in my entire life.
But then, a shadow passed over my brother’s face. Henry began to speak, low at first, and then louder than the scream of the dying. “I am the earth, the air, the fire, the water. I am the sun on ripened grain. I am the moon on a cloudless night.” His body trembled, an earthquake in a human body. The two men tightened their grasp reluctantly as the king neared, sword drawn. Henry, with eyes of anger and hate, teeth like nails, roared and bellowed painfully, “I am the wolf. I am the beast.”
Moments later, I watched as my father pierced my brother through the heart with his sword.
I woke, choking as if I had been underwater. I sat up, feeling the softness of my sheets and the sweat that soaked my pillow.
And there came in the dark a soft wisp of a voice, “On a path of fire, she will walk. And out of the flames, a beast will rule.”
I gasped. “Who are you?”
Even with my eyes open, the room swam in darkness. I saw my father, King of Mirosa, and my brother, the prince, and both of their faces in agony for what they had done. My brother had changed into a monster—a Gwylis? It wasn’t possible—it could not be possible. How and why would he do such a thing? Had my father killed him for it? The very thought seized my body with terror.
And that voice…I knew it from somewhere. But where?
I went numb. No. It was only a dream. Only a dream. Just a—
I threw off my covers. Still in my nightdress, I reached toward the last place I had seen my cloak and boots and blindly went to my door. Outside I found Crim, slumped against the wall, asleep, sword in hand. Down the hall, patrols guarded the halls in droves. I’d never be able to get anywhere alone.
I nudged Crim with the toe of my boot. He woke with a start, getting to his feet faster than I’d ever seen the massive man move before. I’m sure if he had a voice, he’d yell some war cry before pummeling me to death. He deflated when he saw my face.
Is something wrong?
I signed back, No, and told him that I wished to be escorted to the infirmary to see Fray. He responded hesitantly.
I don’t feel comfortable with the events as of late, Princess. His face drooped, seeing my stance. I will call for additional guards.
“No,” I said defiantly. “Crim, come on. I must see him now.”
Without further questioning, he motioned me forward. Walking ahead, he cast an enormous shadow over me as we traveled from the residence hallways down to the main level. There was an eerie silence, save for our footsteps and the sound of the crackling torches. Not even the roving guards spoke.
Tap the door if you need me, signed Crim outside of Fray’s room.
I nodded, took a torch from the wall, and slowly pushed the door open.
Fray stood with his back to me, dressed exclusively in his pants and boots. I must have caught him off guard because he started when he heard the door shut behind me. He watched my every step, his face unreadable.
“Leaving?” I asked, setting the torch into the bracket on the wall. When he turned completely, I saw that he had removed his bandages. The gashes on his side now looked as though someone had merely drawn them on with ink. “How—”
Fray closed his eyes as he signed. I was worried about you. I heard about what happened outside the gates.
“Worried?” I asked softly. For me?
His blue eyes blazed with concern. He looked so normal just then, without the tension in his face and shoulders. I was amazed by how much you could tell about a person in the absence of words.
Something in me softened. My body acted against the apprehension in my mind and I closed the small distance between us. I set my hand flat against his stomach where the wounds had been. Fray was strong, corded muscle, but no
mere man could heal from wounds of that caliber that quickly. “You should hate me for what my family did to yours. You should not be looking at me like that.”
He pulled back, but he didn’t move my hand. His body had a lean hardness I had never felt before. I traced his wounds with my other hand and felt the catch in his chest as he suddenly held his breath. Was he still in pain? My shoulders sagged forward. This was all my fault.
Are you frightened yet?
“I’m not exactly sure,” I answered. “I do know that you won’t hurt me.”
How so?
“Because you could have left me to die that night.”
As if on strings, my hand moved to touch his chest. He made no move to stop me, which only emboldened my unchecked actions. I kept it there, feeling the rhythm of his heart. “Your heart beats like mine.” I swallowed hard. The pounding—both mine and his—grew. I breathed, steeled myself. “You are not soulless, Fray Castor, but you are a Gwylis.”
Yes.
I dropped my hand and took a breath.
“My father said that magic died long ago. It was evil, cursed, wicked. My father is a liar.” I grappled with the terror from my dream. “I think that my brother betrayed my father. I think Henry was trying to help your people.”
And then there were tears rolling down my face.
“I wanted so badly to believe that he wasn’t dead, that without his body he could be out there somewhere. But the truth of it is that he is dead, and I think my father is the one who killed him.”
Sometimes, ghosts of the people that we love visit us in our dreams to tell us what they never got to say. Do you believe that?
I shook my head, unsure of what I believed in now.
Fray smiled and lifted two fingers to wipe away the tears. They believe in you. He dropped his hand, his look suddenly darkened. Listen to me carefully. These people, they are here to obliterate your entire family. They will stop at nothing. The wolf head outside your castle gates—he was with me.
“A good guy?”
Fray nodded, a thin smile pulling at his lips. A good guy.
I pushed my palm against his chest. He was a boulder and didn’t budge. “You were going to leave.” I hissed the words through my teeth.
This is beyond my control now. I must go back to my home.
“Back…through the Archway?” I asked. “To the Old Kingdom? Why?”
He looked down, taking in a deep breath. When he met my eyes again, I saw the same look from the first time I’d spoken to him in the kitchen. A look that said that he hated me no matter what his actions may have said differently. But it wasn’t true. I know it was a ruse.
He signed slowly. Because I cannot save you, Princess.
"I don't need saving," I said. "But if you’re going, I’m going with you. There is nothing left for me here.” I had to know what happened to Henry. I had to see it for myself. “You don’t even have to come with me, if you truly do hate me the way you want me to believe. If you just write down some directions…”
Fray raised a hand to stop me. You’re not going out there.
“I don’t blame you for hating me, I don’t blame anyone. I want to set things right. I want to know everything. I want to help. I want to continue what Henry was doing.” The words came out in such a rush that my head spun. I turned to the wall and slapped my hands on the cold stone. “I have to know.”
If Henry had become a Gwylis, however he had done it, there had to have been a reason. I knew part of the reason, the biggest reason. My father had fooled him. Henry hadn’t been ruthless like him. He’d been kind and honorable. If he had thought becoming what my father had created would change the tide of the war, he must have trusted in it with all his heart.
No matter who we were born, we had a choice in our fates.
Fray’s whistle brought me back.
His signing was slow and sad, I don’t hate you.
I nodded, barely processing what he was saying. If he wanted to leave, fine. People had left me so many times in my life, why not one more? “Before we part, guide me just this once, Fray Castor. What will I see beyond the Archway?”
Fray ran an anxious hand down his face, pacing for a moment, and then finally locked eyes with me. If you go out there alone, you won’t last a day. Not with winter coming.
“You don’t know me,” I snapped. I cursed under my breath. “I’m sorry. Things are just happening so fast. Will you at least just give me a straight answer ? For once?”
His muscled chest expanded as he took a deep breath. I’d been so deep in my own thoughts that I’d forgotten just how improper the scene was. An unmarried woman alone in a room with a shirtless servant. Mother’s head would explode.
Sudden guilt tugged at me. I couldn’t leave, not when she was in danger. She was still my mother, no matter how removed she was from my life. And Lulu…and Pyrus and Crim. I couldn’t leave them to the wolves. How would I live with myself if I knew I could have helped, and instead, I ran?
I was tired of running.
“I don’t see what I can do,” I said, watching Fray pull on his gray servant’s tunic. “There must be someone who can help. I’ll ask around. I’ll…” I stopped midsentence as the realization hit me.
“Pyrus is the best healer in the entire land. He must know something.”
Will he help you without question?
I studied him carefully. “If there’s anyone who can find a cure, it’s him. I’m sure of it. Where there is poison, there must be a cure.” I wasn’t sure how true that was, but hope swelled inside of me. If Fray got his voice back, he’d be able to change into a wolf. With that, he’d be evenly matched with the enemy. He may even be able to heal his friends, wherever they were. With a cure, we might even convince the other Gwylis to abandon their revenge on my father. They could reclaim their land, and in time, there could be a treaty, peace, understanding…
But the dark look in Fray’s eyes stalled my thoughts. His face had gone pale. When he saw that I’d noticed, he looked away.
The realization slammed into me. Could it be that he didn’t want to be a Gwylis again?
And why would he want to? Just like me, he was living with the sins of his own fathers. They had made a pact with demons, but was it possible that not all of them had wanted this power? My face grew warm. I couldn’t blame an entire race for the actions of a few.
“There are others who fled the war with my father,” I said. “In the Old Kingdom. Do you know where they are?”
Fray nodded.
“You have a king and a queen. Is that true?”
Again, he nodded. But they are long gone.
Having no ruler was far better than having one such as mine.
I crossed over to him. “If I find this cure, will you take me to them?” I swallowed hard. “Maybe there is a way to…”
Fray shook his head. Don’t say it. Don’t give me hope when there isn’t any.
There was a stark bitterness in the way he signed that did not sit well with me. The hopelessness that would tear apart any other person only made me more determined. I had nothing more than dreams and gut feelings to go by, but to me, that was enough.
I held his gaze. I hadn’t noticed that I’d stepped closer to him, so close our breath was intertwined. I wanted to ask him what had happened to him; the pain of it was clear in his eyes every day. I wanted to hear the story of his life. To know him. To scrape away the bad things and find some good in all of this. I wanted to reach out and touch him again in ways I should not want.
It took a moment for me to find my voice. “There is always hope.”
Fray took a ragged breath, moving his lips as if he had words to give me. I wanted to hear him speak. I wanted him to tell me everything about what he was. Something had shifted in our relationship, and I wasn’t sure when it had happened. Maybe it was the night he saved me. Or when I’d seen him near death in this very room.
I wanted something I could close my eyes and dream about. Instead, I d
rew on my hood and turned away. Fray was the sun. Looking at him for too long was beginning to burn me from the inside out.
There was time yet to burn.
But not tonight.
Chapter 21
My dreams were riddled with dark and mischievous things, misshapen spirits, and muddled voices. At lunch, I looked at each of the people at the table, but more closely at Ashe and Lulu, imagining them dead, torn open. Visions of their faces, screaming, each more frightening than the last, flashed before my eyes. I’m going insane. I must keep calm.
I am the beast. Henry’s voice echoed in my head. This was the phrase spoken to change into monsters.
Cursed humans, pushed out of their lands and driven to exile, illness, and death. And by none other than my father. He was wrong to do such things, and I would not continue his rule of tyranny. Not ever.
Folded silk napkins. One on my lap. Silver forks on ceramic plates. My food, untouched. I waited and waited for Ashe to mention Fray, the sense of betrayal simmering. I wished I could tell him what was going on as a friend would. But he was not here to be my friend.
My mother clinked her glass, and I raised my head. “I’d like to formally apologize to you and your father, Ashe,” she said, raising two perfect eyebrows. “Such heinous jokes played on the royal family will not be tolerated.”
I choked. “Jokes?”
“Children, most likely. The wolf’s head was one commonly found in mask shops in Johan.”
I forced down a mouthful of food. “Yes, of course.”
“How lucky we are to come during such a time as the Festival of Ghosts,” said Archibald. “Will there be more frights?”
Every year at autumn time, the square in town held a Festival of Ghosts, a day when children and adults alike donned masks of monsters and demons. I’d been a few times when I was younger but had stopped going after Henry’s death. The purpose was to show the real monsters that we weren’t afraid, but I thought of it as another way for mask shops to make their coin purses a little fatter.
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