“I am quite sure that wolf mask will be quite popular this year,” said my mother, who cut up her potato into six pieces and ate each one slowly. “Imagine if it were a full moon. Dozens of children howling at the sky.”
My nerves rattled just thinking about it.
“Seems very interesting,” said Ashe in an uninterested voice. He glanced at me without smiling. He hushed his voice and then said, “May I speak to you privately after our meal, Izzy?”
I agreed, and less than an hour later we stood in the back gardens with the sun cloaking us. Together we strolled the paved path toward the cemetery, taking each step agonizingly slow. Time pressed upon me. Other matters needed attention, ones involving mixed potions and medicine deep under the castle.
“You wanted to speak to me?” I asked. A pair of council members strode by, and we all bowed.
“This ball thing, it’s quite—”
“Offensive,” I said. “You can say it.”
Ashe wiggled his eyebrows and laughed. “It is pretty offensive.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”
He began walking again, his look a thousand years away. “No, Izzy. I wanted to tell you that I wish for us to remain friends.”
I did my best to smile even though his words stung. “Scared you off, did I?”
He squinted in the sunlight and caught a laugh in his throat. “Yeah, just a little.” Then he took one of my hands in his own. He held it there with one finger pressed upon my pulse and then looked up. “But really, I want you to choose whomever you wish without any influences. I won’t stand amongst those men with one foot forward.”
“I understand.”
He let go of my hand and went back to walking. “I’d leave you to it, but my father has banished me here for as long it takes. He thinks it’s a good union.”
“And you?”
He stopped again and looked at me. “I think a good union has to be mutual in all aspects. Most of those aspects, I don’t think you possess for me, which is all right. Like I said, you scare me.”
I smiled, feeling a little lighter.
Whatever future Ashe held, I wished him the best and hoped he would be better than both of our fathers.
An hour later, I raced down the steps to the catacombs and was greeted at Pyrus’ door by Pax, who nearly whipped me in the face with his wings. I blocked my eyes and called to Pyrus to call him off.
“Mangy bird!” The healer, his glasses askew, stepped out from the alcove and ordered Pax to his window. “I don’t know what got into him. It’s like he didn’t recognize you. Must be your smell.”
I sniffed under my arms discreetly as Pyrus reprimanded Pax. He fell into a wooden chair by his cluttered work table and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “What can I do for you, Izzy?” he demanded, folding his hands along his ample stomach.
Not one to beat around the bush, I came out with it. “Do you know of a cure for the Voiceless?”
Pyrus started to laugh. “A cure?” he asked. He patted his belly. “There’s no cure. Once a voice is gone, you can never retrieve it.”
“But there are cures for everything. It’s not like their tongues were cut out.”
Pyrus leaned forward, curious now. “Why do you ask? Is this for Crimson?”
“No. No, it’s not.”
“It’s for that boy, isn’t it? The one who was attacked.” Pyrus gave a crooked smile as he watched me squirm. “It’s not my business to meddle in your personal affairs,” he added. “But you’re like a daughter to me, so let me just express one thing to you before I tell you whether I can help.”
I sighed. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
He said it. “Think about your family.” He wiped his palms on his robe and folded them again. “That’s it.”
“It’s more than that,” I told my friend. I could feel my heart thudding in my ears. I waited. And then I waited some more. The silence was so loud it began to buzz in my brain.
Finally, Pyrus exhaled deeply. “I can help.”
I exhaled. “Pyrus, thank you.”
Pyrus stood up slowly, making his way to the rows of shelves on the wall. “I’ve been experimenting over the years and stumbled upon a few accidental concoctions.” He chose a jar filled with a clear liquid that appeared to be simple water. His shaky hand made the glass rattle as he placed it back on the shelf. “Antidotes are much more difficult to create than poisons. The one you’re speaking of acted as a sort of blanket around the vocal chords, creating a lingering sickness that never goes away. To cure it is to attack the sickness and eradicate it.”
I blinked so many times that the room began to spin. “What do we need to make the antidote?”
“I have had several things in mind,” he replied. “None of which have worked. There is one that I haven’t tried because the cost of obtaining such material is so high that I could not afford it after a lifetime of saving my coin.”
My shoulders slumped. “How bad?”
Pyrus took his spectacles off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Answer me truthfully. Do you love this boy?” he asked.
“I have no time for love, if you understand,” I said. My heart picked up speed, betraying my very words. “I want to help him because he wants to help me.” Again, the words felt sticky on my tongue. Of course, I wanted to help Fray. But was that my only reason?
I cleared my throat. “Do you know of the Gwylis—”
“I know of the Gwylis, Izzy.” I narrowed my eyes at Pyrus’ abrupt interruption. “The question is, how much do you know?”
“I know enough.”
Pyrus turned away. “You do love him, whether you realize it or not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. If you do, I will tell you where to find the ingredient I need. If you don’t, I want you to walk away, and we’ll forget this conversation ever took place. Do you understand me?”
I saw my own confusion in Pyrus’ eyes. How could I think of such things? Did he think me such a girl that would fall for someone so easily? Love took time. It was an idea I was not used to entertaining.
For curiosity’s sake, I brought Fray to the forefront of my mind. A warm shudder passed through me. I realized a tiny crack was forming in the wall I’d built up to keep out those unworthy of my trust. A wall built so high after Henry’s death, I thought nobody could ever bring it down. But I remembered Fray brushing away my tears and how I’d thought it had been an expression of solidarity and not something romantic. Had I been wrong?
“Izzy?”
I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh. It lasted a few minutes, and by the time I’d finished, I was breathless, and Pyrus had sat down to wait it out.
“I don’t love him,” I stated and chuckled under my breath. “Pyrus, you’ve gone mad.”
Pyrus frowned. “Quite the contrary.”
“All right, well, maybe I did what you said. I found a little bit of happiness and decided to keep it around.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and felt my cheeks go warm. “It’s completely absurd.”
“This boy can help you, then?”
I nodded. In doing so, did I confess something I couldn’t fathom? Love? What a far-fetched thing. How weird an idea. Perhaps I should ask Lulu. She’d know.
“My dear, you’ve grown overnight. I swear to the gods.” Pyrus sighed. “Do not lie to yourself. You are a smart girl; I’ve always thought so. If you feel something, you damn well better make sure the world knows it, because the world deserves to know it. Love, especially. It deserves to be declared in a flurry of fireworks and trumpets.”
“Have you ever loved someone?”
He licked his lips, a note of sadness in his voice. “Long ago. It burns and burns like fire in a hearth. But, sometimes, you’re the only one who realizes it. The funny thing about love is that it gets inside of you and takes over your heart and mind and before you know it, your life is no longer yours, and you are left with nothing but the ashes. Hurt in a way that
stays with you.”
“Did she pass?”
“No. She is very much alive.” He looked away, almost bashfully. “My position keeps me nearer. But the pain is only kept at bay. Sometimes the choices we make follow us forever.”
In a sudden rush, the words tumbled out. “If someone were to hurt me, I’d eat them.”
Pyrus guffawed. “I don’t doubt it, Princess,” he said with a wide smile that accentuated his fat, red cheeks. In a second, it changed, and his expression darkened. “You want to atone for your father’s sins. I wish to lighten that burden for you, Izzy, because it is not all yours to bear. In Stormwall, there is a section of town called the Barge, do you know it?”
I nodded. “I learned about the Gwylis there, and about what my father had done.”
“There, you will find a shop called Wargrave’s Wares” His face twisted into a sour expression. “Fewer wares and more mischief. Within you will find Wargrave. Ask him for a Sabrecat tooth. If he gives you difficulty, keep asking. He’s not the type to give up anything without making one beg. Even you.”
“The price?”
“Fifty thousand coin.”
I nearly fell over. Fifty thousand? That was pretty much everything I had. I would have to bring every jewel I owned to barter with him if he was the bartering type. Nevermind getting out of the castle undetected.
“Can you do it?” Pyrus asked.
I clicked my tongue. “Can I do it?” I echoed. “Have you ever known me not to do something I wanted to do? Don’t answer that. I’m going.”
I pulled my hood over my head and made for the door. The longer I stood there, the longer Pyrus would shake all the confessions out of me, even the ones I wasn’t aware of. The ones involving Fray Castor, for example.
“Izzy.”
I turned just as my feet passed the threshold. I saw figures amongst the shadows, dancing on the walls and the ceiling and then Pyrus, the most magnificent shadow of them all.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Something happened to Henry beyond the Archway, Pyrus,” I said adamantly. I’d spoken to Fray about it, but telling Pyrus seemed so much more important. He had known Henry and had loved him as a son. He loved me too, so I knew he’d understand. “I think he sided with the Gwylis and my father killed him because of it.”
Pyrus’ breath stalled momentarily. “You know this?”
I nodded. I didn’t have solid proof, but I felt it in my bones that Henry was reaching out to me and something had to be done.
Pax cawed from his perch. I peered at the bird and turned to leave once again. “I should go.”
Pyrus seized my hand, forcing me to face him. “Izzy, I don’t believe any of it.” His eyes swam with doubt. “Henry wouldn’t. Your father wouldn’t…”
His words trailing off told me everything I needed to know. My father was capable of heinous acts. Pyrus had known him long enough not to doubt that.
I thought of Fray Castor standing in front of me, the warmth of his skin, his breath carrying with it the scent of the wilderness. And then I saw the truth as I saw the full moon, close and unwillingly mine.
“I do,” I said, and left the room, taking my tiny thread of courage with me.
Chapter 22
It rained through the night and into the morning. The sky was a murky gray without even a tinge of sun. It made the sidewalks slick, and because of the lack of carriages and wagons, the town was clear to walk through without obstruction. The absence of fruit vendors created holes in the city, making it a little less vibrant. A little less noisy.
The puddles soaked the hem of my cloak as I slipped through the hole in the cemetery wall and walked the ordinarily crowded main street of Stormwall. I clasped my hand around the pouch of coin in my pocket, feeling it weigh me down even more with every step. I knew I wouldn’t get back in time before Crim, who’d been standing in his usual spot while I pretended to visit Henry, would surely know I’d given him the slip. Storm clouds rolled overhead. I turned left, away from the main street, the square, and all that I was supposed to know.
The Barge was just below a small set of steps. I took them carefully, steadying my breaths with each step. Unlike the main square above, people were out and about.
I held my head high to the shadows lurking in the corners and down the alleys. I felt bold even amongst the curious glances. Maybe it had something to do with the dagger strapped to my thigh. Or maybe places like this didn’t scare me anymore.
I wore a kitchen staff’s uniform underneath my cloak. Had it come undone, I’d be marked as just another servant, but part of me didn’t care if anyone recognized me. I could easily fight them. Thieves held no equality to the Gwylis I’d fought off in the woods. I wasn’t sure which option was smarter: thoughtless abandon or self-preservation.
The entrance to Wargrave's Wears stood between two buildings so close together that only one person could pass at any given time. The sign for the shop hung loosely on bent nails. On the stoop, just below the dirty glass of the shop’s window, sat a cat as unsavory as my surroundings, as if it had been created from the atmosphere itself. It hissed as I walked around it and entered the shop.
The store was chaos. Large storage lockers filled with jars and other affairs that would put Pyrus’s workshop to shame lined the walls. Along the ceiling hung all kinds of trinkets—dark objects, I guessed—that clanged and clacked together as air passed through the open window at the front of the shop. I ambled around crates—careful not to disturb anything—to the back, where I spotted a counter with a brass bell on top of it. I rang it just as I felt the floor shake beneath me. A muffled roar followed as a door to my right suddenly slammed closed.
“Lost?” said a voice in my ear.
A man with hair like seaweed and skin like a snake crossed my path and lifted a slab of wood to position himself behind the counter. He reeked of something sharp and unpleasant, like fresh animal droppings. What had he been doing in that cellar? The smell was horrendous.
But it wasn’t the stench or the greasy hair that irked me. It was Wargrave's eyes. The left seemed perfectly fine, but the other moved as if on a swivel, looking off at something else entirely. It made it difficult to focus as I spoke to him.
“No, I’m not lost, unless you are not Mr. Wargrave.” I hoped my steady voice hid my fear.
The man laughed, revealing a mouthful of missing teeth. Those still intact were rotted, hanging on by a thread. I took a breath, settling my churning stomach.
“I am just Wargrave,” he said, smirking. He tipped his head, his greasy hair falling across his face. The floor trembled again. He ignored it entirely. “Who might you be?” he inquired with the scratchy voice of a hard smoker.
I stepped back and away. What are you doing here, Isabelle? The voice in my head plagued me. What are you doing here? What are you doing?
I stepped boldly and briskly forward. “Sabrecat tooth,” I demanded. I showed him the pouch of coin and pulled up the sleeve of my cloak, revealing the jeweled bracelets.
Wargrave looked at me as if I had three eyes. I might as well have. I was out of place; my hand was shaking, and he knew my fear. He could feel it. This place, too. It started to close in on me, and Wargrave just stood there, hunched over the counter like a brittle bag of bones, his gnarly fingernails clicking against the wood impatiently. The right eye even attempted to look at me. He was something a child would draw when asked about the monster under her bed.
“Sabrecat tooth is rare,” he said. “So rare, in fact, that nobody on this side of the New Kingdom possesses such a thing.” He knocked his teeth together and looked at the pouch of money. “So rare that nobody asks for it because nobody can afford it.”
“I think this should cover it.”
Wargrave shot me a fierce look. “Get rid of your hood. I don’t make deals with shadows.”
I went against the voice in my head telling me to turn and go. I fought hard against it. It was fear; I knew it was, and it
lapped over me like the sea. I felt my heartbeat in my skull as I removed my hood and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
Wargrave gave a slow, considering nod and made a face, as if he finally realized how wrong he smelled. “A royal, not a thief.” He took the pouch and spilled the contents. He then hooked one finger and pulled the bracelets toward him.
“My name is Isabelle,” I said. I turned away and strode around the shop looking at the strange mixture of old and worn items. There were used clothes in one corner and flashy jewelry in the next. The array of wares was indeed baffling. I wondered what was inside the room Wargrave had come from. Something frightful, I imagined, but looking at the more interesting items—a large curved horn the length of my own arm and a potted plant that bore flowers that appeared have small teeth—I knew I was in the right place.
“I need this tooth for—”
Walgrave held up a hand and shouted, “Don’t tell me a sob story!” I whirled around and watched as he plucked up a bucket into which he slid the coin and gems. “I don’t care who you are or your reasons. It’s not enough.”
I reached into my shirt and unclasped the necklaces I wore. I placed them onto the counter. Two silver and two gold. “What about now?” Again, I waited, holding my breath. If only my mother could see me, bartering like a common thief. If Henry could see me, he'd be rolling over in his grave.
“I need a quarter more,” said Walgrave.
My breath hitched in my throat. A quarter? That was five thousand more coin! There had to be another way.
He laughed as if reading my thoughts. “Do you know how difficult it is to obtain Sabrecat tooth? It’s not something I have sitting on the shelf with a price tag hanging from it. You pay for what you get. I get what I paid for the items you buy. Guaranteed.” He hitched up a sleeve of his shirt, revealing deep scars. Long healed, but grotesque. They reminded me of the ones on Abiyaya’s hands.
Run, said the voice. Run now.
Wargrave smiled a cold, cruel thing. “Princesses don’t belong in the Barge,” he said. “I don’t take pity on your story—it’s your eyes. I see something there. Pain. We all know it.” He gave a hacking cough into a handkerchief. It came up full of snot. “Some more so than others.” He brushed the words away like dust. “Pain, all the same. How about a deal, then?”
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