“You should not leave the palace without an escort, my lady. You do not know what lurks in the darkness.”
“I do know, maybe better than anyone,” Rayne had answered below her breath.
“Then you should know better.”
All this while she'd stripped Rayne bare and dressed her again in a nightgown that had been warmed by the hearth. The white dress covered her from her ankles to her neck and made her feel trapped in her own skin after her brief taste of freedom. She looked like a ghost in the floor-length mirror that hung in her wardrobe.
She had been glad to climb into bed if only to be left alone. Now, what could have been minutes or hours later, she tore her eyes off of the leaves and rolled onto her back, gazing instead at the dark beams that crisscrossed the ceiling.
“I will fight,” she said into the darkness. “I will win.”
It will not bring me back. Rayne pushed herself onto her elbows. Beside her, a small figure moved, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the mattress. She had deep brown skin that melted into the night and wide brown eyes so familiar that Rayne couldn't feel afraid.
“Madlin,” she said, a name she had not said aloud in years.
The specter said nothing. She just stared, one of her hands fidgeting with the rope knotted around her forearm. Even in death, she wore the slaver’s band.
“I'm sorry,” Rayne tried.
It will not bring me back. The girl's mouth didn't move but her voice rang clear in Rayne's head, as confident and as certain as it had ever been.
Rayne thought so much of her friend's death that she had forgotten her life. She had nearly forgotten the girl's habit of picking at her rope until it frayed. The Duskan slave master had to replace it at least once a week. Or how she was always the fastest runner of them all, running even faster than Rin with his long boy legs, laughing all the while at the royal siblings who struggled to keep up.
Suddenly Rayne was remembering the time that Madlin had woven crowns of twigs for the Crowheart sisters.
“What about yours?” Rayne had asked.
Madlin had not looked away when she answered. “I will never wear a crown. Even made of twigs, the weight is too heavy for me.”
No wonder Rin had loved her. They all had. This humble, kind, obedient girl who would never hurt a fly.
“I could have done more. We should have done more.” We. Rin, Rayne, Edlyn. They had all stood there and watched their father uncoil the whip. It had been the end of them, the last time they were all together. The last time she would be able to look at one of them without thinking about how weak they all were. For so long, she had wanted to blame Rin, but it had been them all, hadn't it? Any one of them could have stepped forward, stilled the king's hand. But none of them had had the courage.
The bed did not shift beneath the girl's lithe form as she crawled to the space beside Rayne and curled onto her side. Her tight black braids fell soundlessly against the pillow. How many times had they lain like this, face-to-face, whispering into the night?
“I'll avenge you,” Rayne whispered, leaning back and reaching for the specter's hand and finding only air.
It will not bring me back. A red stain began to creep around from the back of the girl's nightgown, soaking her hip.
It was too late for Madlin, but was it too late for Seloue? Did Rayne have another chance to do something instead of stand by and watch? She couldn’t change the past, but there was a small spark of an idea somewhere deep inside that she could change the future. But she didn’t think she could do that if she were playing the part of a puppet.
Rayne closed her eyes to blink away tears, and when she opened them, the vision was gone, faded back into the shadows, the pillow and blankets smooth where she had been. When Rayne finally fell asleep, she dreamed of boys with map books and fiery eyes, and girls with crowns of braids and twigs. And blood, always so much blood. On a marble floor, on a back torn to shreds. On her own useless hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rayne
Rayne entered the dining hall with Tierri at her heels.
“I am a general, not a babysitter,” she had heard him say outside her door that morning. Prince Danyll had whispered something to him, and Tierri had not protested further. Instead, he had grudgingly stood outside her door, glowering at her every time she opened it. Someone—the maid, probably—had told them about her late-night excursion, then. Was Tierri there for her protection or theirs? There was no chance to speak to him to find out. The halls were always crowded and busy and he made no move to come into her rooms.
Either way, it didn't matter. They had been too late to stop her. She had decided to go forward with her half-baked plan in spite of last night’s doubts, and so she had been up before the sun, boiling water in the kitchen. The sorrow leaf tea was in a vial hidden in her pocket.
This was her first formal dinner, and her father had sent her a pale yellow dress to wear that made her feel more like a lump of butter than a member of the royal family.
“It's the Hail fashion,” said the steward who had brought her the dress. “No more drab Duskan colors for you.”
Her father sat at the lord's table, resplendent in a black tunic to match his hair, the heavy Duskan crown nestled on his brow. She was glad not to see him in yellow, too. At least he had not conformed to the tacky Hail fashions.
The same could not be said for the nobles sitting at the trestle tables. Everywhere she looked, she was surrounded by a veritable rainbow of gowns and tunics. Many of the women even wore bright hairpieces to match their dresses. Feathers and imitation flowers reached for the ceiling, rustling with every movement. Rayne had never seen so many colors in her life. Their arms were all bared, too, to show their status, as if their ridiculous outfits hadn’t been enough proof of their freedom.
All of the multicolored heads turned to her when she stepped into the dining hall, but she kept her eyes on her father. It took him a moment to register her presence, but when he did he stood and opened his arms in welcome. Beside him, Edlyn and Prince Danyll also stood, Edlyn wearing a delicate lavender gown and an ear-to-ear smile. Rayne wasn't able to return the smile, so she looked away, her hand clutching the vial of sorrow leaf tea in her pocket.
The room fell silent. “Ladies and gentlemen of the court, allow me to present to you my youngest daughter, Rayne Crowheart, who has spent the last five years in captivity.” Here he paused to allow the nobles to murmur the appropriate noises of shock and awe. “She has returned to us in one piece thanks to General Malstrom and Prince Ashsky. Please make her feel welcome.”
The applause was polite as she moved forward to her seat at the dais on Edlyn's other side. Tierri followed her, taking a seat at the end of the table near Prince Danyll, leaving her to walk the rest of the way alone. She refused to make eye contact with her sister again as she skirted past her and took her seat, her dress rustling around her legs. It was difficult to move in, let alone sit. She pressed it down, stuffing it beneath the table, glad to use it as an excuse to hide her shaking hands.
Luckily, she didn't have to talk. The almoner led them in the blessing, crediting Rayne's return to Enos, the Conqueror. It was their belief that Enos was the one true god that drove her ancestor, Casuin Crowheart, and his followers across the Impassable Strait to found the Casuin Empire. In Dusk, she had attended service in the palace chapel every day. Every morning of the first twelve years of her life had been spent kneeling beside Rin, Edlyn, and their mother with her eyes closed in what was supposed to be silent contemplation. They were meant to use the time to think of ways to spread their influence and conquer new lands. It was where she had first learned the art of keeping her face blank. No matter what she and her siblings did to one another—kicks beneath the bench, pebbles thrown behind their mother's back—she never got caught.
She bowed her head and clasped her hands in familiar subservience as the rest of the court did, and only half-listened to the almoner wax poetic about their blessed kingdom. Ray
ne wasn't sure how she felt about Enos anymore. Did he deserve her loyalty when he kept taking everything away from her over and over again? She remembered the story of the savage gods that Tierri had told her and wondered if perhaps all gods were just cruel-natured.
“Unto Enos, so be our lives.”
“So be it,” they all echoed, Rayne included as she lifted her head. The clergy's exit was followed by servants carrying trays of bread and butter, and butlers serving a tart white wine. Her father selected a chunk of bread and broke it, giving her the larger half.
“I must admit,” he said, swiping butter over the steaming soft innards of his bread, “I had not thought to live to see this day.”
On her other side, Edlyn leaned forward. “The day you let me out of my rooms?” she asked, but she was just teasing him, and his soft smile made it clear he knew that.
“The day I once again sat to a meal beside my daughters.”
A fist closed around Rayne's heart and she looked away. A kitchen slave wearing an iron band was going down the line, placing bowls of broth in front of the diners. Rayne waited until he was between her and Edlyn and shoved her chair backward. The hot broth spilled down Edlyn's front. The girl leaped to her feet, Danyll beside her, cursing at the slave. Rayne caught Tierri's eye—he was the only one not trying to help the princess.
She had made her chance, and she wasn't going to waste it. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the commotion behind her. She pulled the vial from her pocket and dumped the contents into Edlyn's wine goblet. She could only hope that the tart wine would hide the bitter smell of the poison. The vial back in her pocket, she turned to her sister with a napkin in hand, ready to help clean up the mess.
“Oh, sister,” she said, raising her voice above the others. “I do hope you weren't burned.”
Edlyn batted away the last of the helpers and returned to her chair. The broth had left a wet stain on her light-colored dress, but Edlyn's optimism had not waned. “No, no,” she said. She smiled at Rayne and then turned to Danyll, who was still standing, his eyes flicking between Rayne and Edlyn. “Accidents happen.” Edlyn put a conciliatory hand on Danyll’s arm, and Rayne cleared her throat uneasily and looked away.
The slaves were removing the bread crusts and bowls and bringing out the second course, boiled pork with an array of colorful vegetables. Her father drew his dagger and sliced her portion of meat before his own.
“I almost didn't believe it,” Edlyn said as Prince Danyll served her meat. “When father called me for dinner, I thought Danyll's eyes would pop out of his head.”
“It's easier to protect you in a controlled environment,” the prince said. “Anything can happen here.”
“Nothing will, though, you'll see.” Edlyn’s hand squeezed Danyll’s arm where it rested on the table.
“You certainly don’t make my job easy,” Danyll said. “Remember when you jumped out the window in Lerora to run off with that archer?” He slid a piece of pork off of the knife and onto Rayne’s plate.
A shadow passed over Edlyn's face, so fleeting that Rayne would have missed it if she hadn't been watching her so intently, waiting for her to take a drink. Her fingers were knotted in her skirts, trying to keep her hands from batting away the wine goblet, spilling its contents over the floor to stop her sister from drinking.
“That was a long time ago,” Edlyn finally said, her voice too high and cheery to be authentic. “Much has changed since then.”
Their father tore at his meat, watching his daughters thoughtfully. “When Rayne asked me to invite you, how could I deny her? She was right. The people need to see their future queen. Now that the threat in Shade has been dealt with and your sister returned, perhaps we can discuss extending the barriers of your confinement.”
Edlyn blushed and looked down at her plate, while Danyll on her other side made a noise of dissent, his eyes glancing off of Rayne and her father. Enos save her, she couldn't do it. She was only half-listening, her hand creeping toward the goblet, ready to toss it to the ground, when Tierri stood, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor, his own goblet in his hand.
“A toast!” he said, his voice too loud for the confined space. It worked to draw every eye to the front of the room. Rayne withdrew her hand, glaring at the general. “To the Crowhearts. May they be united always.”
“To the Crowhearts!” everyone echoed, raising their glasses.
Edlyn picked hers up and smiled, clinking it against Rayne's own goblet. Rayne watched, eyes wide over the rim of her glass, as Edlyn raised the drink to her lips, tipping it up, up—
“Stop.” Danyll grabbed Edlyn's wrist and forcefully lowered her hand.
“What are you doing?” Edlyn asked, struggling against his firm grip, but he persisted, prying the goblet from her fingers and holding it in front of him.
“Something isn't right.”
Rayne's eyes darted to Tierri. His face had gone pale, and she felt a flush creeping up her own neck, her cheeks warm. Danyll leaned forward, looking around the sisters at the king, who had frozen with his goblet in his hand.
“Was the food tasted?” the prince asked.
“Of course,” King Innis replied.
“And the wine?”
He knew. Both relief and disappointment washed over Rayne. She had failed, but her sister would live. She would be found out, but at least it was over. With the blood rushing into her ears, she didn't hear the king's reply or what Danyll said when he called Tierri over and whispered to him. Tierri looked at her with his lips pursed, barely hiding his own fear, before he left the dining hall.
The room was silent, the nobles looking at their laps or across the way at each other, no one touching their wine goblets. What great gossip this would make. Though dinner was ruined, these people would be the ones to see the corrupted princess to her dungeon cell. Of course, they didn't know that yet. But it was only a matter of time.
Moments later, Tierri returned hauling a bedraggled prisoner by a chain. The person shuffled behind him, barely able to pick up their feet. Their shoulders were slumped and their face was to the floor, braids snaking out from beneath their hood.
Black braids.
Rayne stood. Only Edlyn noticed.
“What is it?” Edlyn asked.
Tierri handed the chain to Danyll, who still held Edlyn's wine goblet.
“What is he doing?” Rayne asked.
“He called for a prisoner to taste the wine. He's being…Well, he's being himself.” Edlyn shrugged.
“This will be the best thing you’ve tasted in weeks, traitor,” Danyll said. The nobles tittered. The prisoner lifted her eyes. Eyes that Rayne knew. Imeyna found her almost immediately and gave a small shake of her head. She knew what was about to happen. It was another of Rayne’s failures.
Rayne had to stop this. She turned to her father. “Is this necessary?”
The man studied her face, so much like his own. High cheekbones, a narrow nose above plump lips, thoughtful brown eyes. “Do you know her?” he asked.
“I did.”
“Then she was one of your captors? I would rather see her dead than my daughter.”
“She was kind to me,” Rayne said.
“She is a criminal.”
He saw everything in black and white, right and wrong, while Rayne lived in the gray area in between. He saw only a Shaddern Knight, while she saw a woman and a sister, someone who had saved her and loved her in spite of who she was. Just like all those years ago when he'd seen only a slave girl daring to kiss a prince, while it was really just a girl loving a boy.
The king's eyes flicked past her and Rayne turned around, an objection frozen on her tongue, just in time to see Imeyna lift the goblet to her lips and drink.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Rayne
Tierri's story had left out the important parts. How quickly the poison took effect; the desperation in a person's eyes as their throat constricted; how terrible it truly felt to wa
tch someone stop breathing and not be able to do anything about it. To watch them die slowly and painfully.
There was chaos in the dining hall, but Rayne couldn't move. Imeyna dropped to her knees, her hands around her throat, but she had been forgotten. Danyll and the king were pushing Edlyn out of the hall, shouting for Tierri as they squirreled her away to her rooms where she would hide once more behind the Crowheart door. Nobles scrambled away from Imeyna as if the poison were contagious, women dramatically falling into men's arms.
“I was this close to drinking,” several of them were saying.
Rayne was caught in the middle of it, standing completely still.
She was a monster. She was a murderer. She was her father's daughter. It was so easy to condemn him but even easier to follow in his footsteps. To live up to her legacy. Imeyna was making a horrible, keening sound and Rayne clamped a hand over her own mouth to keep from crying out. Then Imeyna collapsed onto the floor, her cheek slapping the marble with a sickening finality.
Rayne's chair tumbled backward as she scrambled out from behind the table, but still, no one even glanced her way. She had been forgotten in the madness.
But she would never forget.
Not the way that Madlin had bravely knelt before them with her hands fisted at her sides. Or the way Merek had told her to leave him behind in the rubble of a collapsing city. Or how Imeyna had drunk from the goblet, knowing what it contained and knowing what that meant for her. Sacrifice one for the many. They had all given themselves up, paid the ultimate price.
Now it was her turn to pay.
A carving knife sat discarded on the table. She picked it up and stalked to the doors, joining the flood of people exiting the dining hall. The butter-yellow dress was not good for blending in, but no one tried to stop her. Most were worried about themselves more than the princess with the carving knife, rushing to their own rooms or to leave the palace. She marched through halls, past banded slaves and ladies' maids, and no one said a word to her. The door to the stairway beyond her rooms was ajar and she took the steps two at a time, her skirts rustling and threatening to trip her. At the top, the Crowheart door was secure, a line of fresh blood drying near the latch.
When Rains Fall (The Lost Fields Book 1) Page 19
