“Come, Twylla,” he says, and I can do nothing but turn and walk away, leaving my tower without my guard, once again alone with the prince.
* * *
As before, we are unguarded and the other courtiers bow and smile. It’s amazing, the difference being seen with Merek makes. I stop being a monster when they see me with him, and I start to own the role of their future queen. Inside I am reeling, but outwardly I return their smiles, dipping my head as graciously as I can, all the while wondering if Merek will mention Lief’s behavior … and how I will explain it. What was Lief thinking, goading Merek when he’d given him the perfect opportunity to do as we’d planned? But Merek says nothing, about Lief or otherwise, as we walk toward the Great Hall. Before we reach the large wooden doors that would take us there, Merek turns to the left, leading me down a corridor and toward the east tower. It was here that the royal nursery used to be—the whole of the east tower dedicated to princes and princesses and their legions of servants.
At the door of the tower, a taller, grander version of mine, two guards salute the prince and bow to us. In silence they open the doors and Merek nods at me to enter.
There is a small antechamber, barely big enough to contain us, and I’m too aware of how close Merek stands once the doors are closed behind us.
“Step back,” he says, and I do so, pressing into the stone wall as he moves toward a sheet of black fabric hung from the ceiling. He fumbles with it before pulling it aside, revealing another room beyond this one. “After you.” He moves to allow me to pass and I do, entering the Hall of Glass.
As I step into the room I see myself reflected. I raise a hand to test it and am distracted by a movement to my right. It is me again, set in profile, and as I turn to look more closely another flash of movement catches my eye, and there I am again, my back visible in another glass. I turn this way and that, stepping backward and forward to see where I’ll appear next and which side of me I can see. I can’t help it; it makes me laugh to see myself everywhere I look.
“There is more than this.” I am surrounded by Mereks. For every Twylla I see reflected there is a Merek behind her, and I turn to look at him, watching as every me does the same. “Walk forward. Keep your fingers before you so you don’t walk into the glasses. It is supposed to be built as a maze.” He demonstrates what he means, stepping past me with his fingers outstretched.
I am sure he is going to walk into the glass walls but he doesn’t, disappearing instead as if he’s entered the looking glass. I follow him and then we are in another chamber, all the walls reflecting us.
“Stop,” he says, and I do, my fingers still before me. “Look.” He turns to the side and I copy him, but it looks the same; there we are again, in every surface, seen from every angle.
“Come here. Stand where I am.”
Nonplussed, I obey him and he walks to where I was, and I gasp. From this spot I can’t see my own reflection at all, but his is reflected in all of the glasses and it seems that he has formed a circle around me. I look at what I think is him and he smiles, stepping forward, and the circle closes in.
“Stop,” I say, a chill climbing up my spine, and all of the Mereks shake their heads.
“Can you not tell which one is the real me?”
I twist around as he steps closer again and I begin to point, but each time I choose the man I think is the real him, he shakes his head again.
“Merek, please,” I say, turning and turning, and I’m no longer sure from which direction I entered the chamber. “I don’t like this.”
“One more guess,” he says.
I turn slowly, looking at all of the Mereks, looking for the entrance so I can make my choice. I take a small step to the left and there it is, a gap between two glasses, the corner of his shoulder cutting across it.
“There.” I point at him, but as I do I see a movement behind him, brown hair pulled back at the nape, a muted green jerkin and leather breeches. I gasp, and Merek turns, giving himself away and proving me right, but I can’t feel satisfied by it.
Lief is in the maze. He’s followed us and there is no chance of hiding, not when every surface tells the truth.
“Well done,” Merek says, but he frowns, his eyes trained on the glass. “What is it?”
“As I moved I caught sight of myself. It startled me,” I say, not meeting his eye.
“It is disorienting in here,” he agrees. “Come, there is more. I won’t trick you again. At least not on purpose,” he adds, and I follow his lead, walking forward slowly with my arms extended.
As we wander through the glass, mirrored by ourselves, I try to convince myself that it is impossible for Lief to be here, that he would have had to come past the guards, that we would have heard him enter.
Merek walks with confidence; despite his words he does not seem disoriented at all, and I scurry to keep up with him as we roam the hall, corners and crevices hidden everywhere, my eyes darting over all of them. The glass makes the room feel so much bigger, though I know it can’t be so large, and when I catch a snatched glimpse of my own dress, or Merek’s hand, I startle, wheeling around to look at it. Each time I am met with my own scared face.
“Do you like it?” Merek comes to a halt in a room that seems to split into three different paths.
“No,” I say honestly. “I don’t think so.”
“I do,” he says. “There could be no deception in a place like this, where everything is displayed. I wish that all of life could be like this.”
“As do I,” I say sharply, and then bite my lip as his face falls. “Forgive me. I know it was not your fault. Your mother will be glad you like it.”
He snorts. “Yes, she’ll be able to congratulate herself on this, I’ll give her that.”
As he speaks, Lief materializes like a specter behind him and I start, stretching my fingers.
“My talk of my mother shocks you, doesn’t it?” Merek misreads my gesture. “But I feel after your recent discoveries, I can be honest with you. You know what she is.”
I nod mutely, making a pretense of turning to look at myself in the glass, trying to see where Lief is standing, and which glasses he can be seen in. I can only see him ahead of me, behind Merek, but I know that it must be a reflection, as I can see myself and Merek in the glass, too. A glance to the left and the right reveals nothing, and when Merek follows my eyes it is apparent he cannot see him at all.
“Twylla?”
“Yes, forgive me. It’s the glass …”
“We are so alike, you and I.” Merek steps forward, and behind him I see Lief’s face tighten, his fingers inching toward his hip where his sword sits. “Both of us with our mothers and our prisons and our roles. I have never had someone I could confide in before … Well, that’s not true.” He smiles. “I used to confide in my tutors and my nurses, but they all went away. I’m lonely, too, Twylla,” he says softly.
Movement to the right makes me turn involuntarily and I see Lief, Lief proper, standing at an angle so the only glass reflecting him is the one behind Merek. Merek’s eyes again follow mine, but from where he stands I’m sure he can see only me.
I take a step forward to stop Merek from doing so and seeing Lief.
“I brought you here for a reason,” he says. Behind him, Lief’s face echoes all of the reflections of my own, wary, frightened.
“Oh?”
“My mother … She is not a good queen.”
“Merek, you mustn’t—”
“We can speak freely in here; we are alone. And I know you agree—I’ve been watching you since I returned. I saw you trying to save Lord Bennel. You know she is not a good queen; whether you say it or merely think it, it’s still treason and it’s still true. She hungers for glory at the expense of the kingdom; she berates and belittles my stepfather. She kills her friends. She is cruel and vindictive, and she is not good for Lormere. It cannot continue, do you understand my meaning? I have seen much since I returned and cannot, in good conscience, allow it to co
ntinue, for the sake of the court or Lormere or you. My mother is too much the product of her breeding. I fear she is mad; she talks about purity and legacy and …” He hesitates. “Can I truly trust you?”
He gazes at me searchingly and I hold my breath, nodding.
“I’ve asked to bring our wedding forward. My mother is weakened, for the first time I can ever recall. She allowed my stepfather to defy her publicly and she has not questioned my granting you your freedom without her consent. If we all stand together, we might be able to do this amicably. The time to strike is now. I mean for us to be married and then to take the kingdom. I can’t do anything until I’m married. And I must do something.”
I stare at him, and Lief stares at me, and I can do nothing.
“But … your harvest day …”
“What does it matter?” he says, stepping toward me. “We’re both adults and we’ve always known it would be this way. What are we waiting for? You know the truth about Daunen, and there is no need to keep up the pretense of it any longer. I want to marry you now.” He seals his announcement with a kiss.
He’s so cold, so cold compared to Lief. His lips are like the lips of a statue as they brush against mine, so different from Lief and the heat that crackles between us when we touch. Merek moves away from me, his head tilted as he watches me. My eyes dart to the mirrors. Lief is not there anymore. Where is he?
“Forgive me, Twylla.”
I look away. “Do I have any say in this at all, Merek?”
“What do you mean? We’re betrothed, as good as married now. You were there; you gave yourself to me. The wedding is a formality.”
When I don’t speak, his eyes narrow. “Do I repulse you so much, Twylla? Am I that revolting to you?”
I open my mouth to protest, but he does not allow me to speak.
“Do not lie to me,” he continues. “Do you think I don’t notice that you show more concern, more regard, for your guards than you do for your prince? You are not the only one who has been manipulated and used. I have never had a choice about my fate.”
A year ago, even a moon ago, I might have felt differently. But not now.
“This is not how I would have us begin,” he continues. “I knew it would be hard to tell you the truth, but I thought you’d be happy to know that you’re not what you thought you were—a killer.”
“Can’t you say you won’t have me?” I say desperately. “Can’t you refuse me?”
He reaches for my arm, pulling me around to face him. “I prayed for you,” he spits at me. “I don’t believe in the Gods, but it didn’t stop me from praying for you. Every night for eleven years I have lain in my bed and begged the Gods to bring you to me, to let me keep you. I dreamed of you. I heard you sing and I was glad it would be you. If I am to have a wife—and believe me, Twylla, I have no choice about it—then I will not have one related to me. I would end my life before I did. I have spent two years waiting to come back here so I could finally be with you. You will be my wife and I am glad of it. I want it to be you. I have always wanted it to be you.”
He releases me and turns back to the looking glass before he speaks, calm again. “You are clearly overwhelmed, and that is my fault. You have dealt with much lately. I’ll have you escorted back to your solar so you can rest before tonight.”
“Before tonight? What is happening tonight?”
“I’ve called for a feast, in honor of our wedding being brought forward. I want it announced now, while my mother is weakened. I want it announced formally. Then you can move to the royal solar and prepare to become my bride.”
He stalks through the Hall of Glass, taking my arm and pulling me with him, guiding us back through the curtain.
“I am sorry it’s been presented to you like this.” He pauses before the door as I stare at him. “I will be a good husband to you, Twylla. I will try hard to make it as easy as it can be.” He raises my hand and kisses the back of it before holding it against his cheek, his fingers as cool as his lips. “Now is the right time. We need to strike now while her stinger is drawn. The kingdom needs us to. I shall see you later.”
He throws open the door and entrusts me to two severe-looking guards, who bow to Merek. I forget to bow to him as we walk away. I don’t suppose it matters now.
I don’t know where Lief is, whether he is still in the Hall of Glass or whether he left. If he stayed, then he would have heard it all.
When the door of my tower opens, Lief is there.
There is no fire in his eyes, nothing that I recognize about him. Those dull eyes are ringed in red; his hair is askew. The guards leave and I walk slowly toward him. He watches me impassively, gesturing for me to pass him as he closes the door. I climb the stairs, listening to his tread behind me, slow, steady, and in complete contrast with my heartbeat.
“Lief …” I say as soon as we are in my room.
“I suppose I should start calling you ‘Your Majesty.’ ” He sweeps into a mocking bow as my face crumples and I finally cry.
I would give anything for his comfort, but he offers none. He stands over me, watching me dispassionately as I weep.
When there are no more tears and he has still not moved, there is nothing left for me to do but turn from him. I move to the basin to wash my face and then his arms are around me, his face buried in my neck. We stand like that, my back pressing against his chest, his arms iron-tight around me, until I feel dampness on my skin. When I turn, his face is shining under the weight of his tears and my heart breaks at how wretched, how broken, he looks.
“I was going to marry you.” His voice is ragged.
My heart soars at his words and then clenches at the tone, joy and horror warring inside of me. “You still can,” I whisper, my hands reaching toward him. “We can still go—we’ll go now.”
He shakes his head. “There isn’t enough time, Twylla. We’d have hours, at most.”
“And after tonight we’ll have no time at all. We have to go tonight. I can’t marry him. I can’t be with him.”
“He kissed you,” he says slowly.
“I never wanted him to.”
“I wanted to kill him.”
“We’ll go, Lief. It won’t matter then.”
“Twylla, he is a prince. I can’t beat that.”
“You already have!”
At this he pulls me into his arms. When our mouths meet I taste salt on his lips; no matter how many times I kiss them clean the salt returns, and I don’t know whether it’s from his tears or mine.
“There has to be a way,” I say. “You and I, we’re clever. We’re not from the castle. We know how to live outside of here. Did you find the passageway? That’s all we need. We can go. We can make it.”
He nods, releasing me and turning his back. I watch as he straightens his shoulders, holds his shuddering breath until it is under his control. When he is himself again, he turns back to me and there, in his eyes, is the spark of the man I love.
“Tomorrow night. We’ll go then. I’ll send word to my sister to be ready.”
My face falls as I shake my head. “We can’t. After the feast he plans to move me to the royal solar to prepare for the wedding. It must be tonight.”
He whitens. “Can we risk it? With everyone preparing for a feast?”
“Can we risk staying and losing this chance?”
At that he pulls me back into his arms, folding me against him, safe in his grip. “He can’t have you,” he murmurs against my lips. “You’re mine, my Twylla, my love. I won’t give you up, no matter who tells me to. No queen, no prince, no one.”
“I don’t want to marry him,” I say.
“And you won’t. I promise. If I have to give my life for it, you won’t.”
“Don’t say that,” I plead. “Don’t say things like that.”
“If they knew of us, you could not marry him.”
“And you would be dead.”
“They might not kill you.”
“I’d want them to! I cann
ot go back now; there’s nothing to go back to.”
He makes no protest as I pull him toward the bed.
* * *
Afterward we lie with our legs and arms twined, breathing softly, his breaths becoming my breaths. Our skin is damp and we stick together, as though nothing could separate us. My limbs are heavy and liquid, the dying light of the afternoon making me want to curl around him and sleep. He rubs his lips across my forehead and I smile, tilting my head back so my eyes meet his.
“That wasn’t quite the escape I had in mind,” he says softly. “Not that I’m complaining. Are you well?”
“Very.” I smile, my skin heating as he grins back at me. “As for escaping, I think we’ll be able to go after the feast.”
“You thought about it?” He props himself on his elbow, looking down at me with his eyebrows raised. “When did you think about it?” A smile plays around his mouth.
I redden again at the implication, ducking away from him. “Not then. A moment ago, while we were lying here. If I plead a headache during the feast, I can ask to retire. We’ll go while they celebrate. By the morning we’ll be miles away and they’ll be none the wiser. Once they realize, it’ll be too late to stop us. At least I hope so.”
I watch as he works through my words in his head. “Come.” He untangles his legs from mine and pulls me from the bed, throwing a fur over my shoulders. I feel self-conscious, drawing the fur around to cover myself, but one look at his face, at the hope and joy there, makes me forget and it’s easy to follow him.
He leads me to the window, standing behind me with his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder as he points to the sun setting over the trees.
“Look, those are the West Woods. Beyond that forest is our new home, somewhere far over there.”
I nod, leaning against him.
“And we’ll go tonight. It ends tonight.”
“It begins tonight,” I say.
“It begins tonight,” he agrees. “But in the meantime, we have to get ready for this feast. Shall I call for water for you?”
The Sin Eater's Daughter Page 19
