Wargrave looked at me for a long moment before realizing that I wasn’t joking. And he said, with a laugh, “Good guys don’t exist. What you think is right is wrong for someone else. And what is wrong is right for the next. You think you’re good because what you’re doing suits you. In that respect, I am also right.”
“Subjectively.”
He clicked his tongue. “And it’s not for you to decide.” He stopped as if seeing me for the first time. I followed his eyes and threw my hand to my neck.
“You can’t have this.” It made me sick to my stomach to let anyone take Henry’s gift. Never mind the likes of Wargrave.
He sniffed and smirked. “That would settle it. Guaranteed.”
A gray mist fogged my mind. This impending blackness was suffocating. I was being buried alive. But I couldn’t let Wargrave see that. He already looked at me like a weakling. But a debt was a debt and I did not plan on backing out, especially when I had already acquired the Sabrecat tooth.
I shook my head, more confident. “No.”
He quirked an eyebrow and sneered. “Then our contract is still open. I’ll see again you soon.”
Lulu smoothed her hands along the fabric of her ball gown. “Is it a little much?” she asked. She admired her reflection, posing here and there. “Do you think it’s all right?”
We were in Lulu’s room. Her windows opened in the forepart of the palace and let in the chilly afternoon air. White furs doused the floor and walls. One that had been dyed a lush forest green covered her plush bed.
I watched her handmaiden poke and prod, adjusting the bodice of the dress. I hadn’t slept much over the past few days and lay back on the bed.
“I think you will be a star,” I told my cousin. Since I was the only person allowed to wear white, Lulu’s dress was a mixture of creams and light yellows. She did look like a star.
“Let me take it in just a bit more here,” said her handmaiden.
“It’s perfectly fine,” complained Lulu.
“If you hold still just a second, I can fix it—”
Lulu sighed. “Can I speak?” she asked, tight-lipped.
The handmaiden rolled her eyes. When she finished, she collected her things and left us alone.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Lulu twirled my way and curtsied.
I sat up and admired her. I couldn’t blame my cousin for her excitement. She wasn’t the one being forced to marry somebody she hardly knew.
I struggled feebly against the passing days, slogging through agonizing meals and small talk. It will be all right, I told myself. Fray will regain his voice, and he can defeat the Gwylis—the bad ones—and I’ll go far away from this place and leave it nothing but a memory.
But the ball was days away. Too close for comfort.
I looked past Lulu and to the open windows. I hadn’t seen Fray in three days. I’d been afraid to ask any of the servants where to find him, fearful of drawing any suspicion. I’d even waited at the cemetery wall, but still, he hadn’t shown.
If he had been hurt or killed, would I know about it?
“So, I had this weird dream,” blurted Lulu.
I turned to look at her. “Oh?”
Lulu nodded and sat beside me, flattening her dress underneath her. “We were in this place, sort of like a cave. I could hear water dripping from some underground river or something, and it was freezing. You were shivering and held your coat tightly. The further we walked, the colder you became. You complained a lot. Like you always do.”
I laughed. How could I argue with that?
“We came to this pool in the cave, and it was gorgeous, all blues and greens and sparkles. And so there was this voice, and it was just as soothing and captivating as this pond of water, and it stated, ‘Come closer, let me look at you. I know you. Yes, word has reached my ears. You are a legend.’ And then it was like someone was pulling me backward really fast, and I saw you still standing by that pool, and then you got smaller and smaller, and I woke up.”
My mind whirred. “What do you make of it?”
Lulu frowned, a look not becoming for her lovely face. “We were taught that dreams were always something to trust.”
I nodded. “People say ghosts speak to us in dreams.”
“Do you think that voice was a ghost?”
I shrugged. “We could ask Pyrus. Or maybe Pedoma.”
“No, that’s all right.” She placed a hand on my own. “I worry about you sometimes.”
I gave her a weak smile. “I’m all right, and you’re all right. We’re all right.”
“Are we?”
I drew in a few slow breaths. “We will be. Trust me.”
“You’re going to kill me for saying this, but lately you’ve been strange, Izzy. Stranger than normal. Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
I shook my head as guilt flooded my body. The need to tell my cousin everything was stronger than the need to keep her in the dark where it was safe. But how could I even begin to start? It was too complicated. Now was not the time.
Lulu cleared her throat. “Is it the servant? The blue-eyed one from the kitchen?”
I started. “What?”
“Have you been seeing him? I see your lack in interest in Prince Ashe, so there has to be a reason for it.”
“Has it ever crossed your mind that not everything has to do with boys?”
Lulu quirked an eyebrow. “So, I can move on him?”
I rolled my eyes. “Lulu, you can move however you want to move.”
She nodded and changed the subject. “How does Ashe feel about all of this? I bet he’s peeved we all have to waste our time having a Black and White ball when he knows it’ll be him.”
“Yes, why not just have the wedding instead.”
Lulu jumped to her feet. “Yes! We should inform your mother quickly. Send all those boys away!” She danced around a moment and then stopped and caught her breath. “Will you tell me when you two—”
“When we two what?”
“You know.” She smiled slyly.
Oh.
“Are you joking?” I feigned surprise and drew my hand to my forehead. “I could never allow something so pure to touch this skin. I would surely turn to gold. I’d have to kidnap babies and pass them off as heirs.”
Lulu snorted and laughed until she couldn’t breathe. After a moment of silence, she turned to me as I was leaving.
“Your children will be stunning,” she said with a genuine smile.
I rubbed my arms, feeling shame for even thinking it, but even if Fray never returned, even if he had used me, he had shown me that there was something else out there. I didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was something like the beach Henry had dreamed.
I offered a thank you, but nothing more. My cousin didn’t need to know that there would be a wedding, but I wouldn’t be attending. She didn’t need to know that my children wouldn’t be sandy-haired and green-eyed.
Because according to Abiyaya, I wouldn’t have any.
Many hours later, I passed through the dimly lit halls and kept my footfalls light by traveling on the stretch of grass that led to the cemetery. Ashe stood against the wrought iron gate, his chin to his chest. He lifted it when he sensed my presence.
“I thought I’d see you here,” he said with a wide smile. It faded as I approached. “Izzy, what’s wrong?”
I kept my distance. At least six feet between us. “Nothing. I’m just surprised to see you. Who told you I came here?”
Ashe rubbed the back of his neck. “Lulu did,” he said and cringed, awaiting my response.
“Well, she’s quite the blabbermouth.”
Ashe laughed softly, and then the silence dragged on.
“I haven’t seen you much,” Ashe said, after a while. “This ball thing is dumb, don’t you agree? I guess it will be good for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you don’t need to worry about entertaining anyone any longer. They amuse you, and you pi
ck one.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
Ashe cleared his throat after a stretch of silence. “I didn’t mean that—”
“I know what you meant.”
He pushed off from the gate and swayed unsteadily. At his feet, an empty bottle fell onto its side.
He met my eyes and flinched. “I didn’t know how to take all of this.”
“So, you downed an entire bottle of whiskey? Don’t come any closer, Prince of the Peeks. I can’t stand the smell.”
After a minute, he shoved both hands in his pant pockets and clicked his tongue. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“We never were fighting, Ashe.”
He muttered some more, which told me he wasn’t talking about us at all. He dug the heel of his boot into the ground and stirred the dirt as if it were soup.
“We could work, you know. I know you don’t like people like me.”
I cocked my head, hesitant. “People like you?”
“You know, I’m nice, and you’re mean, and you don’t like nice people, and I don’t care for mean ones.”
“I’m not mean,” I said under my breath. I wasn’t sure why I was defending myself against a drunk prince, but there I was.
Ashe smirked. Even drunk, he was quite the beauty. An unfortunate fate that we were born into our titles. Maybe in a different time…a different place.
His eyes drifted to my chest and for a moment, I wanted to hit him, but he reached out and gently touched my emerald necklace. “You wear this all the time.”
I nodded defiantly. “It was from Henry. It protects me.”
Ashe dropped his hand and pursed his lips. “I can protect you now, Izzy.”
My chest began to ache. “I know, Ashe, but—”
“Why don’t you just choose me and forgo this silly ball?” he said. “I mean, I’m someone who knows probably better than any of them, Izzy.”
Of course, to him, it would make sense, but to me it could not sound any sillier.
“The thing that made my bones rattle,” he added and glowered at the sky. “It came today in the beak of a crow.”
“What did?”
“A letter from my father.”
The tone of his voice sent a shudder down my spine as I remembered the story about the scar on his side. “What did he say to you?”
Ashe huffed and bit his lower lip. “He told me not to return a failure. So, I got to thinking that the islands are very isolated, and I’d very much like to see Mirosa from outside these walls. Maybe even the mountains.”
“Ashe. You’re a prince.”
“And apparently, I don’t act the part.”
I looked at my feet. “You and me both.”
“Maybe it’s time to throw titles to the wind.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving my best smile. It wasn’t much, but it seemed to comfort him.
“I’m going to go now.” Ashe pointed to the castle and wagged his finger. “You know, I didn’t have high hopes anyhow.” He tripped over something and laughed. “Your birthday is coming up soon, Izzy. Eighteen is a good year. Enjoy it.”
When Ashe had disappeared into the castle, I made my way to the passageway in the cemetery wall, trying to forget the entire encounter. I sat with my back against the wall, my knees tucked with my chin between them. I could see Henry’s grave from there, cloaked in shadow under the light of the moon and the constant guard of the trees.
I would be eighteen soon. Old enough to take a throne. Henry had been eighteen once. His party had lasted an entire week. The next month, father had sent him off to war, and the Henry I knew—who’d sneaked me tarts under the table and told me stories under a blanket fort when I couldn’t sleep—that Henry had become a shell, rocked by something unseen. He’d been tired all the time and startled at the slightest sounds. He hadn’t thought that anybody would notice the change. I did.
If he’d had nightmares, he hadn’t told me about them. If he’d had wounds, he hadn’t shown me. He had forced himself to lock away the fear every day. And at night I’d tuck myself up against him, and we’d pretend everything was normal. But every time he would leave, it was like a piece of me had fallen free and crumbled. And when he’d returned, I could see the holes where the pieces fit.
My brother. He hadn’t had a safe place.
Fresh tears fell down my cheeks and to my lips where I licked the salt away. It ached everywhere. It throbbed so badly that I thought maybe it would kill me, and part of me wished it would because the thought of Henry dying, thinking nobody was on his side, made me feel as though my heart was going to burst from my chest.
A strong breeze blew.
I pressed my eyes shut and counted.
I counted to eighteen.
When I opened them again, it was still. I couldn’t lose hope. Not now, not after everything.
Chapter 27
“Fray?”
My harsh whisper echoed through the dark, empty kitchen. It was late, so late that even the guards were drowsing as I passed through my usual route. I remarked on my nightly need for cake, and nobody stopped me. They wouldn’t anyhow. Cake was a passable reason to stroll about the castle in the middle of the night. But for once in my life, the thought of eating anything made my belly queasy. The edgy feeling I’d sustained after speaking to Ashe the night before remained.
The real reason for my visit felt heavy in the pocket of my cloak: a vial of reddish liquid that may or may not change the fate of Mirosa. If Pyrus was right in his assumptions, this would cure the Voiceless’ affliction, and peeve my father to no end.
“It doesn’t matter,” I’d told Pyrus not an hour before. “I’m going to leave Stormwall and find out what really happened to Henry, and then I’m going to help break the Gwylis curse.”
Pyrus had only nodded and would not meet my eyes. Did he think of me as a fool for dreaming such impossible things? Part of me wanted to leave now and leave my parents to their fates. But I was not so heartless. I was different from my father. And my choices would not result in the death of any more family members.
And yet, I knew my father would eventually discover what I’d done. Maybe he’d chase me through the Archway and hunt me like a deer. But I had to risk it. My responsibilities no longer lay here, but somewhere unknown.
And I was not leaving because I was reckless and dreamed too much, or because I did not want to become a queen. But because I had always had a sense of justice burning deep down inside of me. “I am going to make things right,” I’d told Pyrus. Whether or not he’d believed me remained to be seen. At least I believed it.
With my hand clasping the tiny vial, I stepped into the larger pantry where I’d met Fray before. I went to call him again when footsteps sounded behind me.
Suddenly, someone grabbed my elbow, yanking me into the pantry. With the door closed behind us, they pressed me against the nearby wall and held a hand to my mouth. The smell and strength of him told me who it was.
I froze. One of Fray’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me tighter against him. There was a protective nature to this, one I wanted to reject, but it made me feel safe against whoever was behind the door.
More footsteps, as if they were pacing the length of the kitchen. A guard, maybe? Someone looking for a snack? A pot rattled, and Fray tightened his grip on me. My breath was hot against his hand.
The footsteps receded, and I heard the kitchen door shut with a soft thud.
Fray relaxed his hold, and I smiled against his palm. “That would have been awkward,” I said as his hand dropped, leaving me strangely cold. “Could you imagine the look on my mother’s face after that guard told her what he’d seen? I’d have to jump from my bedroom window to escape the castle.”
Fray turned and lit a torch. I watched him stretch the muscles of his back and neck. I wondered if he was still in pain despite the wounds healing.
“I have it,” I said. I presented the vial, conscious of Fray’s eyes on me.
Fray nodded, hi
s jaw set. Do you think it will work?
“Are you worried that it won’t?”
Fray studied my face, trying to read my expression. Are you afraid?
I scoffed. “It’s hard to imagine that I would be scared now,” I told him. “You know, after knifing wolves and dodging sketchy old men in the Barge and all.”
Fray reached out and closed his hand over mine, trapping the vial inside both our hands. It’s going to be all right.
“Abiyaya’s words echoed in my head as if she were behind me speaking them at that very instant. Something terrible was going to happen to my heart. Did I believe it? “You don’t know that.”
I do.
I looked at him until I remembered to blink. And breathe. “Gods,” I muttered, turning away. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
Fray narrowed his eyes, following me as I paced.
“Were you born this way, or did you get bitten?” I blurted it out, good sense lost.
Fray looked at me abruptly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
No. It’s a good question. I was bitten. By my mother, no less.
“And what?” I demanded. “She wanted you cursed like her?” I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again. “She’s as good a mother as my own. Who would have thought?”
The corners of Fray’s mouth quirked. You’re right about that.
“What age were you when you lost your voice?”
Five.
I sighed heavily several times. He'd lived so long without a voice. It would be very different now. He wouldn’t even know it.
“So, this is all you’ve known.”
Fray shook his head. It’s not. There are good things I remember. My mother, for one, who was kind, despite raising me to fight. He took a heaving breath. The war may have officially ended ten years ago, but for how haggard Fray looked, it may have been yesterday.
“Did you hate it? Fighting, I mean.”
Fray gave a crooked smile. It's certainly not for everyone. Some enjoy killing more than others.
“Are you one that enjoys killing?”
No.
“I do, you know.” I elaborated at his questioning look. “I like hunting. I like the thrill of it. Does that make me a bad person?”
Unspoken Page 19
