Her voice, the tremble in it and the sound of her staggered breathing. It nearly undid me.
“I have already decided, and I don’t care if it kills me. Not anymore.”
I stood up and neared her. She smelled of lavender soap and freshly laundered clothes. In her beautifully stitched gown and her expertly sculpted hair, she was like a statue, a picture of perfection. A queen through and through. Built on a life of lies and guilt. Complete with a crown of thorns.
My mother’s voice shook with emotion. “Forgive me,” she said, almost demanding it.
I hated her, but I let the thought go. It didn’t matter. Even when I told her so and let the words grate my tongue—I hate you, I hate you—it didn’t matter anymore.
“Forgive me,” she repeated, forcing herself past my words. “I didn’t want you to be like him.”
Him. My brother, Henry, who was stronger than both my parents and their armies combined.
All my life I had wanted to be like him. I still did.
I clutched at my chest, hesitating at first. “It would be the greatest honor to become like the man I most admired.” I stopped. Admire. “You were not deserving of such a son.”
Slowly, my mother lowered her face into her hands.
Then, I noticed something in her hands. Pearls. A whole strand of them. For my wedding, no doubt. A wedding I would not be attending. After all of this, she still thought I’d give in?
I was surprised I could feel any sympathy for her at all. My mother, no longer the smug woman she had been for so long, now looked pathetic and sad, fingering the pearls, wondering what happened to her heart to make it so shriveled and dead.
I could tell her. But it would take years.
“He is to be executed in a week’s time,” said my mother without looking at me. “To give us proper time to grieve for Lucy,” she adds. “It’s over, Isabelle.”
“Mother.” The word soured my stomach, but I pushed on. “I believe Stormwall is going to be invaded.” At her unchanged expression, I narrowed my eyes. “You knew? Does father know?”
For a moment, I thought she was going to say that the king was aware. But that wouldn’t make a lick of sense. If he had known, father would have mobilized the army. He wouldn’t sit back and let all his hard work fall to a lesser king.
But half of my father’s army was somewhere beyond the Archway. My mother was betraying my father. The realization should have surprised me, but it was only disappointing.
“Isabelle,” my mother said after quite some time. “What comes to pass will come to pass. We don’t get to choose our fates.”
“You’re wrong.” The words escaped my mouth, sounding less human and more animal. “You might as well have held the very sword that ripped Henry’s heart.”
Then she left me alone, standing there, shedding everything I ever knew or wanted to know about the woman who bore me. Years and years of secrets burned away in one moment. Like my life, taken and stripped away, reducing it to ashes. But I’d rise from it. It wouldn’t swallow me whole. Not like it did her.
I will love her. I just won’t become her.
It wasn’t over.
Chapter 41
Soldiers were stationed outside of my door. One on each side. They both held long spears and swords at their hip. One of them I knew, but not by name. He’d fought with my brother until a sword took a tendon from his leg, and it was him I called forth from my open door.
“I must see Pyrus,” I told him. At his resistance, I added, “It’s only a few doors down. You can park yourself in front of his door.” I glanced at the other guard. “You can bring your buddy too.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he said, his voice muffled beneath his helmet. I could hear the sadness at his words. “King and queen’s orders.”
I lifted my tunic so that he could see the discolored skin. “I need more medicine. Bring me to him?” I hid the leap in my chest when he finally agreed.
One, two three, four, with each beat of my heart I drew closer to Pyrus’ room.
It was eerily quiet.
But so loud in my head.
Pyrus sat at his table. His eyes, half open, looked tired. Candles were lit in every corner.
“Pyrus.”
He lifted his head and breathed. “Oh, the earth and heavens,” he said, standing and drawing me gently into his big arms.
“It didn’t go the way we planned, did it?” he asked me when we pulled apart. “But it worked? The cure is a cure?”
I nodded. “It is. Did you make more of it?”
Pyrus nodded and gestured to his cluttered table. He picked up a vial and handed it to me.
“Pyrus, what’s that other one?”
Another vial sat there beside a large book, and he picked it up and shoved it into my hands.
“This is for you,” he said, his eyes wide, his voice shaky. “If you need to—if the prince—if he…”
“Poison.” My voice shuddered with the word. I dropped to my knees and hung my head low.
You speak of darkness and death.
I inhaled.
Exhaled.
I won’t die here. Not in this castle.
I clung to the fabric of his robe and squeezed my eyes closed until they hurt. “Thank you.”
Pyrus grabbed me by my good arm and looked into my eyes. “Go now, and don’t ever come back here.”
I nodded, not needing an explanation. He handed me a cloak that was far too big, but warm enough to protect me from the winter chill. He hugged me again, long and hard, and I stayed there, cementing his smell into my memory. Then he pushed the table so that it was under the window and helped me to climb it.
“I’ll see you on the other side, my friend,” I said, pocketing both vials. I looked down—it wasn’t far to fall—and balled up Pyrus’ robe, shoved it through the window, and pushed myself through.
“Farewell,” said Pyrus from behind me. “Good luck, Izzy.”
It took everything in me not to scream as I landed hard on my feet. I swallowed it and sprinted across the courtyard toward the cemetery.
I am not the pain. I am stronger than it will ever be.
I knew the way around the gravestones even without the moon and stars to guide me. Two guards passed along the wrought iron gate by Henry’s grave and by the tree where a sentry always waited on nights when the only thing keeping me sane were conversations with someone long dead.
I continued running once I was through the passage in the wall. I left it open. It didn’t matter. Henry had taught me how to kill and survive in the wild. He had showed me that fear was something that could be overcome. Most of all, he had taught me that running wasn’t always the wrong choice. It all depended on what we were running toward.
I ran faster. Branches whipped against my skin, striping me like a tiger. Soon, winter would be marked with the first snow. Weeks. Maybe days. It would ice the branches and make my breath come out like wisps of smoke. Everything seemed to sleep in winter. Except for me. I would be very much alive.
Before I continued any further, I took my pack with the vials inside and buried it loosely at the base of a tree. If I did make it out of Stormwall, I knew I’d come this way toward the mountains. I could not risk carrying the cure where I was going. Not yet. At least here they were safe.
I thought of Henry and Lulu. Was it cold where they were? Did they have snow-capped towers and whitewashed fields, and did their breath make frost upon the window panes?
I broke through the trees, gasping, and nearly barreled into two women. In an instant, they had weapons drawn but pulled them back upon seeing who I was.
Slow down, little bird, one of the women signed. They wore fur-lined coats, and both held lanterns. I recognized them from the Voiceless camp. They were the ones who had given me the strawberry pudding. Their looks softened right away.
I slumped over. “I need a horse,” I stated, taking hold of my breath.
We all need something, one of the woman quipped.
She was the one with the beautiful pale blue eye.
“Please, I won’t get there without your help.”
My body tensed, preparing itself for more running.
We don’t have anything to give, one of them said. She eyed my bandaged wrist. Just the one horse.
I couldn't bear it anymore. As I moved past the women, one of them grasped my arm.
You should never have left your palace, the other said.
“I know,” I replied, tugging my arm away. “It can’t be helped now.” I turned away, heaving my body forward, getting ready to run once again, when one of the women whistled for my attention.
Wait. It was the other woman. Follow us.
They went ahead, making their way to a place at the bottom of a foothill where they had set up a small camp. There, they granted me a horse and showed me the route into the city where I’d be hidden.
The sky was dark and the air still, but thunder rolled in my head and crashed like a thousand swords, steel against steel. I left it all behind me.
“Do you know a man by the name of Crimson? He works at the castle.”
Both women nodded. They knew him.
“Will you tell him, when you can, that I will be at Wargrave’s in the Barge? Will you tell him?”
They both nodded.
That crown is a dangerous weapon, signed the woman with the mismatched eyes. Whether you wear it or not.
Smoky gray smudged the horizon, and I grasped the reins of my horse, steering toward it. “There are storms ahead,” I warned before riding away. “Take cover.”
Chapter 42
There were voices all around me. Even through the heavy beating of rain, I could hear them. Talking over each other, making my head spin. Give up. Don’t do it, Isabelle.
I did do it. I climbed the stairs at Wargrave’s shop and pounded my fists against the door until I saw a light through the second story window. A minute later, the shop owner revealed himself, but just a smidgen.
“Only ghosts roam at this time of night,” he said through the crack.
“I am a ghost,” I shouted through the rain. “The princess is gone.”
The door inched open. “What do you want?” Wargrave pulled his robe tight to his chest.
“I wish you to take her away completely.”
Wargrave narrowed his eyes as he looked at me.
“It’s raining,” I said.
“I noticed.” Though his tone was annoyed, the half-grin showing rotten teeth told me he knew why I was there. He knew beforehand. That was why he let me see Aquarius. That was why he opened the door to let me in.
“The boy?” he demanded, shutting the door behind us. He was a shadow, lit only by the light of the moon from the shop’s front windows.
Fray. He was shackled somewhere deep within my home of Stormwall Castle. By now, they may have beat him within an inch of his life. Maybe even cut out his tongue.
I balled my fists.
They gave him a week to live. Time for all the New Kingdom to arrive and watch. They would make a spectacle of his death. My father, The King of the New World, Defeater of the Cursed. The Scarred King. Fray would become an example. To tell the world that even the Gwylis did not stand a chance against my father.
Tears sprang from my eyes. I bit down on my tongue until I tasted blood. I’ll get you out of there, I thought and tipped my chin high. Both of us.
Wargrave didn’t need an answer. He gave a gruff “Hmph,” and shuffled toward the cellar door. Aquarius. The name entered my mind as I lingered at the top step. I worried about the darkness that awaited, scared that Wargrave would close the door, leaving me to do it alone.
You’re not alone. I could hear Henry’s voice, louder than the others battling for my attention.
But you’ve been gone so long. How do I know what is real and what is not?
I waited, five steps down the staircase, holding onto the wall, digging my fingernails into the stone.
I descended the last of the steps and took a torch from the wall. It was quiet now. Were even my demons terrified of what I was about to do?
“It’s the wolf’s choice, you know.” Wargrave moved aside, melting into the wall.
I nodded and took in a deep breath. If I had thought this through, I wouldn’t have felt as though I was going to collapse. Doubt crept in, but to do this, I’d have to scrap together a bit of courage. I had some to spare.
Open the door.
A low growl startled me. I peered into the darkness of the room and moved the torch in front of me. His musky scent overpowered my senses. Aquarius’ eyes gleamed against the flame.
I drew my cloak tighter around me. “Did you have children?” I asked. He nodded his giant head.
“One of your own is in danger,” I told him.
The wolf did not answer. He stared at me with his unblinking animal gaze. If he was trying to intimidate me, it would not work. I’d seen enough giant wolves in the past few weeks, that nothing would make me lose ground.
“I wish to save him,” I said.
He said nothing. The dread in my stomach intensified. Through the wave of nausea, I stepped closer, tempting my fate. I could feel him now, his coarse fur brushing my cheek.
“I often think of my decisions,” I said. “And I doubt. But with each passing day, I know what is meant to be. With each passing day, the older I get, the more I realize that there is always a price.”
There was. Always.
Henry had known it, but he’d gone ahead anyway. Maybe because he’d known that nothing would be solved by standing in place. The only problem was that he’d left me behind to figure it out on my own.
I was brought back to the present by the heat of Aquarius’ breath. I pushed myself against his heaving breast. From there, I felt the steady rhythm of his heart. “Help me help him,” I whispered into his fur. “I promise, I will avenge your people until my very last breath. It’s what Henry would want. But now, right now, I need to help him.”
Aquarius’ chest rumbled. I pushed off, swiping the tears from my eyes. The tall shadow of Wargrave appeared, chains clutched in his hands.
I wondered what it would feel like being something other than human.
Henry’s voice came into my head. I can’t wait until you find out what life holds in store for you, Izzy. There’s so much more to see than Stormwall. The smells, the sights, the people…you will never want to return. I know I’m not there and you probably don’t believe me, but know you’re not alone. You'll never, ever be alone.
Never.
I made my choice. This was what I wanted. Above all else.
I stood still. In my peripheral, I saw Aquarius’s jaws. My eyes went wide. My chest heaved, my body shuddered. And for a moment, there was no sound. Only that of the great wolf’s breath and the sudden pressure on my shoulder.
And the world went ink black.
Chapter 43
When I opened my eyes, I found myself flat on my back in a room the size of a closet. There was a tiny window on the ceiling, too high for me to look out.
My heart leaped at the sound of chains and the awful heaviness weighing my ankles down. I felt it coursing through me. The change. It felt like my heartbeat pulsing in every part of my body.
“Brave girl,” said Wargrave. There was a window in the door where he peered in. “I won’t feed you. Don’t ask. Do you understand?”
My hands tingled like they were filled with tiny lightning sparks, and they trembled as I moved them, like I’d dipped them into icy water. “I feel strange,” I mumbled.
Wargrave snorted. “That’s the last word I’d use to describe what is going to happen to you. I guarantee it.”
I reached to touch the shoulder where Aquarius had bitten me, the same shoulder an arrow had once pierced. I touched it with my once broken wrist, now mended as if nothing had ever happened. Same with my ribs. It was happening. There was no turning back.
“Keep your temper to a minimum,” Wargrave said in a bored voic
e before sliding shut the little door within the door. “I won’t respond to your screams either. I won’t hear them. Nobody will.”
The change took place in a flurry of pain. It ripped and tore through my muscles and bones and cut through my skin until every part of me felt as if it were on fire—a deep anguish that overtook my body and ignited me from within.
The hours passed agonizingly slow. With no way to tell the time of day, I could only count on my body to tell me when to sleep and when to eat, but as time passed, the less I wanted to do both of those things.
Each time I tried to sleep, visions of ghouls and ghosts danced behind my eyes. My skin itched, and I clawed at the walls until most of my fingernails were worn out and bleeding. I didn’t feel that pain. It was a scratch in comparison.
My life slipped away, and I gripped whatever I could remember to keep me sane.
Blue and brown. These were the colors of Fray. The only ones I could see.
Blue.
Brown.
One word. Fray.
Three numbers. One, two, three.
Breathe.
I was on edge. Pictures, people, voices, all driving me to snap.
This was insanity. This was how I slipped.
Not slipped. Plunged.
I was dying.
I screamed through the worst of it until my throat was dry and raw. Wargrave wouldn’t enter my room. He watched me like a prison guard would a prisoner.
I stared into darkness longer than I knew, making shapes from the shadows. There were ghosts there, and they made the room cold. I could hear them whispering into my ears. They invited me to join them. They wanted me to die.
I tried to summon my courage and tell myself that it was going to be all right. Wargrave said that the calmer I was, the less time it would take. But when I thought about Fray dying, it sent me into a rage. I was losing my mind.
With the worst of it came the crushing sense of dread. I wouldn’t be me anymore. I’d never be able to visit Henry’s grave or sit by the springs or count the stars with Lulu. Those days were as gone as she was. My cherished, beautiful cousin. I will avenge you in the most vicious ways. I will eat those who hurt you. I will tear them limb from limb.
Unspoken Page 26
