Wargrave entered at some point and emptied the chamber pot. I looked at him from my bed, watching his movements and wondering how different they were from mine. How, when it finally happened, would I notice the difference?
The shopkeeper, for all his unpleasantness, reached for me. Perhaps to replace my sheet or to touch my forehead. “Let me,” he said.
I slapped his hand away. I didn’t want his help any more than he’d already given me. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why,” was all he said, and not in response to my last words. He shook his head. Was it pity?
Words swam around my head. Cursed. Abomination. Monster.
Maybe I thought this would change things. I influenced Mirosa. If everyone knew what my father had done, maybe they would side with me. They would help me. I had found a cure for the poison my father had wrought upon his enemy. I could certainly find a way to break their curse.
But none of that mattered now. Nothing did, except the boy sitting in a dungeon and the losses that stretched a hole in my heart
Seventeen years I had lived as someone who I was slowly killing from the inside out. I felt that girl I was burning away.
Love, my mother had once said, is not for people like us. Love is a farce. Love is for the weak.
Love, she’d said, is nothing but a lie.
I decided then that everything she’d ever told me was wrong.
Love was the only thing in this world worth fighting for.
Chapter 44
Something clanged against the stone and woke me from a fitful sleep. There, by the tiny opening of my room was a small, compact mirror. I got out of bed and picked it up.
“Look at yourself,” Wargrave’s muffled voice said from the hallway.
“What will I see?”
“You’ll be surprised.”
I held the mirror against my stomach. It had been three days since I had been locked in the room, according to Wargrave. He had only told me when I had asked and had only given me water and no food, as promised. I thought it had been longer, so much longer in fact that I feared I had missed Fray’s execution. I still had four days. I’d see him again.
The general pain subsided and was replaced by the worst headache of my life. I knew that magic now flowed through my veins, and soon I’d have to learn how to harness it, but I kept myself hydrated instead, because nothing could cure the headache of changing into a monster like buckets and buckets of water.
I lifted the mirror.
I had the same features—rosy lips and every freckle in place—but there was something behind my hazel eyes, another me, lying in wait.
On the fifth day, Wargrave gave me a bit of bread and waited to see if I’d vomit. When all seemed clear, he opened the door and stood aside, offering me a little bit of freedom. I stepped lightly, my bare feet against the stone floor. It was strange, walking like a human, knowing the potential I had to become something far more terrifying.
He led to me to Aquarius’ room and released me from my shackles.
The wolf was waiting. Again. He gestured with a massive paw for me to close the space between us. I saw a rare sight that night, as the wolf laid down and rested his head on his front paws, his eyes still tired, but somewhat gentle and not filled with the foul anger I had seen before.
“How do you feel?” he asked me.
At first, I dared not answer for fear of ruining the beauty of this moment. Aquarius was more than a wolf—more than a Gwylis—and now something like my father. I felt fear, and love, and gratitude. I wanted him to love me more than anything in the world.
My voice stuck at first, but then it cleared, and I met the wolf’s eyes—a flicker of agony there, fleeting, but enough to replace the fear with credence. “I feel like a butterfly.”
His claws scraped against the stone floor as he sat upright. He leveled his head with mine. He was so close now that I could see the specks of color in his eyes and the unique print of his nose.
“What happened to you?” I pressed a hand onto his muzzle.
Aquarius expelled a long breath. His nostrils flared. “Do you know the words?”
I nodded, remembering what Fray had said to transform into his Gwylis form. I remembered how his power shook the world around me, shuddering through it as if it were the strength behind creating the ground and the skies itself. It made me feel small, and because of that, I saw the world for what it was. Limitless.
“We all have our own,” he said, quietly. For a moment, I could see two faces: one was the beast in front of me, and the other, a gentler face I imagined belonging to someone who’d once inspired people, but at some point in time had failed and blamed himself harshly.
But no mistake was worth this punishment.
“You will find yours, I am sure. I won’t have time to teach everything to you, but when you get away, make sure you find someone who will. Do you understand?”
I shook my head. I didn’t care about any of that right now.
“Why do you stay here?”
Aquarius sat up on his haunches and wrapped his great tail around him. His power was so diminished in this room. “A story for a different day.”
“Come with me,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “War is coming. They need you.”
I pulled away, looking up to gauge his reaction. His eyes, his fur—they’d look so much better in the sun.
A deep quake rolled through his throat and vibrated into my very chest. “They don’t need me.”
Heat rose into my cheeks. Lulu had said the same thing, and she had died in my arms. The memory triggered a surge of sadness.
“There were bands of Gwylis,” I said. “Some with different views and principles, or so I was told. Some wanted revenge. Some simply wanted peace, and some were torn between the two. Which were you?”
Aquarius growled on an exhale. I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders, the way his ears flicked, the lashes above his downcast eyes. Torn, I thought. He was torn. “If you go beyond the Archway, tread carefully. You have my fire now. Many will want it for themselves.”
The Archway. The thought of going there still made my stomach coil with unease.
Aquarius raised his head, sensing my anger, and nudged my shoulder, gentle as a deer but enough to stagger me. “Little wolf,” he said. “Do not make war. But you may finish it.”
He considered me and then turned his entire body around, away from me, and every part of me began to hurt. Both hands curled into fists, pinching, drawing blood.
A roll of thunder suddenly shook the house. I knew the storm was coming, but I didn’t realize how close it was. The closer the Gwylis came, the closer Fray was to death. I couldn’t think of that now. If I did, I would shatter, and I could not afford to do that. Not after all I’d done.
“Help them,” said Aquarius. His tail flicked and then curled around his body. “But don’t ever come back here.”
Wargrave appeared in the open door. One look, and he presented the shackles. I let him lock them around my ankles and lead me away. I halted at the threshold and stared down at my feet.
“How much longer until I understand this magic?” I asked.
“Months,” Wargrave answered. He didn’t add anything else until we were back in my room. “But for you, minutes. Time is not on your side, and a huge man is here to see you.”
I paused. “Wait. Large man? Crim?”
“Bald? Voiceless fellow?”
I threw myself against the door. “Let him in!” The door opened, and I fell into my guard, nearly knocking the lantern from his hand. “Oh Crim, give me good news, please.”
Crim pushed me away and scrutinized me. He squeezed my hands and gave a pained smile. He then signed, They moved the date of execution.
My heart dropped. I backed away as far as I could in this room of stone. “When?”
Today. In the city square.
I cupped my hand to my mouth and fell against the wall. Pain surged through my legs and made them buckle. From ben
eath my skin, it felt as though a candle had been lit.
“Gods!”
My eyes snapped up at Wargrave’s cry and then to the lantern in Crim’s hand. The flame inside had grown and the glass had shattered so suddenly that Crim had little time to react. His eyes widened with the realization of what I’d done.
You now have my fire.
“Don’t think about it,” said Wargrave, stepping away from the broken glass. “You’re not ready. I can see it in your eyes. There is no telling what your unchained magic will do.”
“He was the whole point of this,” I snarled, teeth bared. I softened at Crim’s look of shock. “I am going to him. Do you want to stop me?”
Wargrave shook his head and arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t dare.”
I dressed in the same clothes I’d arrived in, pulled on Henry’s boots, and strapped them tight against my calves. Then I pulled on Pyrus’s cloak, and I stood in front of the shopkeeper.
“So, this is goodbye,” I said. There were no words for the gratitude I had for him. Vile as he was, he had helped me, and that would not be forgotten.
“Be careful with it,” he said as I took the first step up the stairs toward the daylight. “Magic flows through you now. You haven’t even seen your true power.”
A roar erupted in my head, a beast thrashing to escape. A bone cry that sizzled my blood and exploded in my brain. I struggled to rationalize it, to understand and contain it, but there wasn’t any time.
He needed me. I had to go.
“People could die,” Wargrave said.
“Someone will die,” I said, repeating Fray’s words to Ashe. I took the second step. “It’s part of war.”
I turned toward the stairs, but before I could go, I spun back and hurled myself into Crim. He caught me, holding me so tight he almost squeezed the breath out of me. He must be a big wolf, I thought. So big that he blocks out the moon.
“I have the cure,” I said into his ear. “I buried it near a tree by a Voiceless camp. Do you—”
Crim shook his head. I will be safer if I am silent.
“I’ll come back for you,” I whispered. “And all the Voiceless.”
He kissed the top of my head and pointed a finger to the place on my shoulder where the arrow had pierced me. Be brave. Be uncaged and unbroken.
I wanted to cry, but he took a finger and lifted my chin high. This is the way it should be. Be brave.
Before anyone could stop me, I turned and hurtled up the stairs.
Chapter 45
My cloak was too heavy, so I discarded it halfway down the streets of Stormwall. I hurtled through the crowds. Death always draws an audience, I thought.
But the further I walked, the denser the crowds became. They wore masks. Demons and monsters from nightmares. And wolves. Children dressed as wolves.
This was the Festival of Ghosts.
In the predawn gloom, the clouds grew dark and bruised. Thunder crashed like a legion of soldiers moving across a battlefield. I watched people hold onto their cloaks against the fierce winds. In my mind, there was rain and sleet and a fire that boiled my skin from the inside.
You’re not ready.
“I don’t care!” My words drew curious glances as I moved through the masses. I knew I wasn’t ready. There was such a noise in my head that it was almost too much to bear. It splintered and clanged like iron shackles. I screamed inwardly every time I swallowed. I had to make it. I had to.
“Stop, you’re scaring me!”
A child cried out. Another child came into view, a wooden sword in hand, and tapped the other boy’s shoulder. He turned to me.
A wolf mask upon his face.
“AWHOOOOO!”
My body went cold.
Fray is going to die today.
“Not today,” I said.
I will break stone with my bare hands if I must.
I pushed myself to a sprint, knocking into whoever got in my way. Somewhere, the clock tower rang out. I prayed to the gods to give me wings, if they had any love for me whatsoever, to provide me with more speed.
The city square grew nearer. I could see the tops of the castle in the distance, monoliths against the backdrop of an inky sky. The clock tower stopped chiming. People waded in and out of my line of sight, dressed in black and haunting every turn, forming a large crowd in the center of the square. It was too dense to see anything but the top of a very tall stake. Someone was bound to it.
In my periphery, I glimpsed my father, standing off to the side. He looked so pleased with himself. Did he not care that I was gone? Or did he trust so ardently that I would return? My mother was not present, but to question why would be to waste time. I looked for Fray and shuddered a breath.
Rampant fear tore through me. Don’t let this happen. Please.
Everything went quiet. I found myself pushing forward as fast as my feet could carry me.
Snow fell in tiny shimmering flakes. I could see the men upon the houses around us, arrows notched in each bow, pointed straight at their target. Like a wolf, the magic bit at me.
He’s going to die.
I saw him. They hadn’t even bothered to put a shirt on him. He stood, bound by his hands and feet to the stake in nothing but his pants and boots. Blood streaked them both. He looked broken in his mind and body, his chin against this chest.
He looked so fragile.
Shadows moved on the rooftops. Archers. My father still feared the Gwylis, even after poisoning them and binding them in ropes. What a cowardly man. What a brittle, spineless thing.
Somewhere, music was playing and children were laughing. Deep boiled anger tore through me. I crawled, the pavement scraping my knees. People noticed me now, parting to let me through.
I cried out and careened up the steps toward him.
The power slammed into me, filling my body, and I responded. I told it to free itself.
The spring of magic uncoiled.
I vaulted myself onto Fray, securing my arms around his body. I prepared for the onslaught of arrows, but nothing came. I opened my eyes slowly, seeing Fray’s pale blue eyes looking right back at me. He was alive. And so was I.
Something like a growl and a sob escaped him. “What did you do?”
I looked past him, at the pulsing light that surrounded us. I felt it then, the energy pulsating through my body. I felt light as a feather, fearing if I let go of Fray, I would float up into the stars.
“Isabelle.” Fray’s voice grew into a panic. “What did you do?”
Outside of the protective light, I could still see the world. Even the arrows had failed to penetrate my magic. The ones intended to kill Fray. They hit my magic and bounced off as if hitting glass.
Before he could ask again, I took the binding from his hands and feet and crushed him into an embrace. He trembled in my arms, still afraid he’d die.
No. Afraid of me.
The light pulsed around us with every beat of my heart. I did this. I created this barrier. I fell onto my knees, weak and disoriented.
There wasn’t any time to question how. My magic slowly waned, and after a few minutes, we both stood exposed. There was a soft murmur from the crowds surrounding us. Even the archers along the rooftops hesitated.
“What is this?”
My father, cloaked in fur, came bounding toward the steps of the stage and reared his head back upon seeing me. There was a hush over the crowd. Thunder crashed as loud as drums in my ears. “Daughter. I should have chained you like a dog.”
I smiled, baring my teeth. “I am not your daughter.” I thought of Aquarius. “Not anymore.”
My father barked a laugh. “No. Not anymore. You're just like your brother. Nothing more than a traitorous heathen.”
I stepped forward, ignoring the sensation of drowning. My father descended the steps when I started reciting the words of my brother before my father had struck him down. “I am the earth, the air, the fire, the water. I am the sun on ripened grain. I am the moon on a cloudle
ss night.”
Before I could finish, Fray stepped beside me. “I am the sun at your waking,” he said. “I am the moon at your slumber. I am the wolf.”
Through the clouds in my vision and the weakness threatening to undo me, I looked at Fray and found my strength.
And then together, we said, “I am the beast.”
“Kill them!”
My body shuddered, and I landed on my hands and knees. Fire engulfed me as if I had combusted. I rocked beneath my skin as if an earthquake had erupted from the inside. Flames licked tears from my eyes, and I cried out as heat blasted through my body.
I felt the change, the shift. Everything became clearer the second it took place. Sights, sounds, and smells were crisp and new. My nose grew longer, and my senses sparked.
The crowd screamed. But my father kept still, his face complacent. Something snapped within me. I was full of unaltered rage. I took one step forward and roared, my jaw opened wide, my throat rumbling like an avalanche. The sound exhilarated me. There was nothing human about it.
I wasn’t human. The princess with stars in her eyes and darkness in her heart was a big, bad wolf. Black as a starless sky.
Chapter 46
The King of Mirosa stood, challenged, against the two massive creatures that were Fray and I. All around us people ran, shouting, struggling to pick up their children. The archers on the rooftops shot their arrows, but they soon retreated against orders. There was a blue light around Fray, at the tips of his brown fur. Mine was red, like blood.
My father. He destroyed everything. He lied to me. He killed my brother and ruined so many people’s lives. And for what? Power?
I will eat him. I will tear him limb from limb.
“This is what it comes to?” said the king. “Not even a proper death?”
“You deserve nothing from her,” snarled Fray. Saliva poured from his lips. He wanted to rip him to shreds just as much as I did.
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