The Darkest Night

by Catherine Wilson

  “What is it?” I rush, breaking away from Ian’s grip and grabbing Sireen’s shaking hands in my own.

  “Your sister has convinced the king’s guard to allow her to sit in on their usual practice drills this morning. Today’s activity is archery.” She swallows, shooting her gaze to a tight-faced Tolan and back. “I’m worried Oliver may have gotten the wrong impression about Vivi’s skills, so to speak. She promised she was a natural with the bow. I tried to warn him with my eyes, but I’m worried he didn’t fully understand the possible threat to his health, as it were.”

  Oh, Vivi. If she is anything with the bow—or any other deadly, flying object for that matter—it’s not natural. Unless by means of having a natural or uncanny way of endangering the lives of those around her.

  “I’m sorry, Ian, but—”

  “No apologies necessary when it involves the apparent safety of my father’s guards,” he interrupts, holding back a laugh. “Go, Penelope, but come back to me, too.”

  I look up into his achingly kind eyes, searching their depths for the annoyance that must surely be there. When I find none, I send him a quick wink. “Here’s hoping her arrows fly straight.”

  Then I am gone. Nothing but a braided strand of hair flapping through the soft yellow walls. Determined not only to find my sister, but to also steal her secrets, too.

  Twenty-Nine

  I find Vivi in the dusty training yard, located not far from the garden’s iron gates. So close, I don’t know how I missed her when I was gazing out of the sitting room’s grand windows. I guess I should be thankful one of her wild arrows didn’t fly up and smack the glass. If the king and queen had any doubts about me, I don’t suppose that would have pulled them any closer to my side. But to be fair, I am the one tasked with marrying their son, burning down their kingdom, saving my sister, unpromising Aras’ mind, and somehow ending my father’s cruel reign all at the same time. So far, my heart is set on doing three of those things, although I still haven’t a real clue of how to go about doing them. Obviously, burning down their kingdom is not an option, but as far as marrying their son…

  “It’s fine, Princess. This time, we’ll adjust the target a bit,” Oliver tells my sister as I near their backs, which must be his polite way of saying, you’re horrible at this. He calls out to another guard, motioning for him to move the round, red target closer to where they stand. The young man assents, grabbing the target, all the while keeping a vigilant watch on Vivi and her soon-to-be nocked arrow. I’d laugh if I didn’t notice the thinness of his pressed lips and the wrinkles creasing his brow. It’s a look I know all too well.

  Fear in the shadow of death.

  Oliver pats Vivi on the back, then motions for his man to get clear and out of the way. The poor fellow barely has time to duck as Vivi’s arrow zings past his wide eyes and hits the gray barn behind him with a resounding thunk. The remaining guards at her sides cover their laughter with a round of encouragements, claiming you’ll get it next time, and that might have been a better shot than the last.

  Skies above. If that last one’s true, then we’ll all need to start wearing protective gear.

  “I was wondering where you got off to,” I call out, causing Vivi’s shoulders to jump and the jovial guards around her to scatter when they hear my voice. Most women would probably take offence to this action, but they’re within their own rights to be a tad skittish around me.

  I do tend to leak fire from my veins. I think I may even be afraid of myself on most days.

  Vivi turns to thank Oliver for all of his troubles, promising to be back tomorrow. Oliver is a bear of a man, almost as tall as he is thick. His short, chocolate hair stands up in all the wrong places, making him look every bit of the menace I’m sure he is when any unwelcome guests come along. Thankfully, when it comes to dealing with Vivi, he looks no more threatening than a cub.

  He forces a grin to his face, probably considering his resignation if the Orien princesses end up moving into his king’s palace for good. When his eyes catch mine, I give my head a slight shake, and the worry in his gaze melts away like the last peaks of mountain snow.

  Whew—saved a man some worry and kept him from having to find a new job. Now if I can weasel Vivi’s secrets out from under her nose, maybe I can allow myself to have that extra piece of berry pie I was so longing for last night. I’m quite positive I’ve earned it.

  “So, Brave, what did you think?”

  “I think you’re going to be hard pressed to find another soul to practice with now that you’ve shown your hand, but that’s a worry for another day,” I tease, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a tight hug. “What did I tell you about manners? It’s rude to stick an arrow in someone’s eye after you’ve only met them.”

  She shrugs, stepping back to hand her bow to a young boy who waits patiently by our side. The boy, probably not a day older than she is, watches her with interest before grabbing the bow and taking off toward the barn. If Vivi notices the boy’s obvious attentions, she doesn’t show it, simply grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the garden’s gates. “I know. I probably should have warned them that I’m a little rusty.”

  I suppose that’s one way of putting it.

  “But I know why you’re really here.” She looks away, toying with the edge of her long, green tunic. “You’re still upset about last night.”

  And that is the heart of the matter, isn’t it? Vivi’s strange games and jumbled speech. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been on my mind all morning. It’s a wonder I haven’t burst from the constant pressure. “Oh, Vivi. I’m not sure if upset is the right word. Confused is more like it. I can’t understand why you would want to push Aras’ buttons, when we already know he’s a smoldering flame, ready to blow Father’s magic at even the tiniest touch.”

  I quiet as our steps slow, winding our way through the garden and toward a welcoming bench. “I don’t want you to think I’m disappointed, because I’m not. I simply need to understand your reasoning. I’m sure you were too tired to remember, but you mentioned something about Papa. It gave me the impression he might have something to do with this. And that’s strange, because you know…”

  “He’s a cat.”

  “Precisely.”

  “There’s really nothing to it.” She plops onto the bench, leaning her head on my shoulder when I nestle in beside her. “He didn’t say anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I only got the idea when I saw him as I was out exploring the palace with Oliver and Aras. He gave me that fatherly look with those blue, human eyes of his, and then he curled up outside of Mother’s room and went to sleep. When we passed him again on our way back to our rooms, he didn’t even flinch. It was the most peaceful sleep I think I’ve ever seen, and that made me think about Aras.”

  “And how he hardly rests,” I say, filling in the blanks. Though I’d never mentioned it to Vivi, it wasn’t hard to notice his short temper and drooping eyes during our short trek to Theron. I always believed it to be from lack of sleep, but Aras’ words from last night only confirmed my suspicions.

  “Exactly. So I thought, what would some extra rest hurt? I mean, is he not sleeping because our evil father keeps his soul awake, or does he really think we’re going to run off and do something rash?”

  “Like practice shooting arrows in a yard full of innocent guards?” I throw out.

  She huffs, but doesn’t push the issue. She never does when she knows I’m right. I should probably strive to be more like her in that way. “Whatever it is, I figured a good night’s sleep could only improve his mood and our luck with it. Besides, each day that passes is like another strike against us. Father’s control over him can only strengthen from here. Unless we make a move soon, I’m worried he’s going to be lost to us forever.”

  Her words settle heavy on my chest, making each breath harder than the last. It’s true that each new day is like another win for our father, but unless I can get Aras’ willing consent for me to p
erform some sort of magical voodoo on his brain, I’m not sure what else there is to do. “I can’t blame you for trying, Vivi. Who knows, maybe sleep would help to improve his mood and his mind. I guess we’ll never know unless we try. Considering the discussions currently happening in the queen’s sitting room, we better try fast. What good will it do to save Aras if I’m already married to another?”

  The last of my words leave a sour taste in my mouth, twisting my lips up at the edges like that time Crisp dared me to eat a slice of lemon, and I ended up spitting it in his face. I want to curse myself for even thinking them, let alone saying them. Obviously, Aras deserves to have his mind back, regardless of my latest dilemma. It’s just life would get a lot more uncomfortable if I were to save Aras, only for him to find me married off to another.

  “That’s the point, Brave,” she says, calling me out as if she’s the older sister of this duo. “You can’t get married. At least, not for real.”

  “For real? I wasn’t aware there was another kind of marriage, aside from the literal one.”

  Vivi rolls her eyes. If the action didn’t look so good on her, I might take offence. “What I mean is—you’re going to have go through with your betrothal to Ian. I didn’t say you’d actually marry him. For Father’s sake, you’re only going to have to act like you are.”

  What’s left of my stretched heart begins to crack and fray at its edges, leaving me with a new kind of ache all together. Oh, Ian. What am I going to do with you, my selfless friend? “And what? Tell Ian I’ll marry him, but you know, not really marry him?”

  Her green eyes finally look up to meet my own, a wizened knowledge way beyond her years shining in their depths. “You’re going to have to tell him the truth, Brave. Or else you’re going to be tied down to the Theron prince for life.”

  “Speaking of being tied down to a kingdom for life…”

  The warm voice trickles down from our backs, striking our spines and all but throwing us from the bench. Flying to our feet, we turn to face the nicest boy who we never deserved to know. I start to speak, pathetic excuses budding on my lips, when Vivi jumps in, saving me in that special, yet blunt way of hers.

  “That certainly sounds like a heavy conversation I’d do best to steer clear of. Besides, something around here smells like boiled apples. Do you think the kitchens have any left for me?”

  Ian smiles as if we haven’t accidentally smashed in his beautiful face with our deplorable words. “For a lovely young archer like you? I’m not sure why you had to ask.”

  Thirty

  I’ve decided Ashen’s gardens have nothing on Theron’s, or any other place for that matter. Whereas my old home’s greenery was spaced out in uneven clusters of flowers and wild weeds, Ian’s garden is as precise and flawless as I imagine him and his family to be. I’m not sure if this realization makes him even more aggravatingly adorable than he already was, or flat-out perfect.

  For some awful reason, I find myself feeling very annoyed.

  If Ian has noticed the sudden foulness of my mood, he doesn’t mention it. He simply leads us forward, his hand swaying near my own, but never so close to touch. Every now and then, he breaks our careful silence to point out a particular flower or tree he enjoys, but his words are quick and never require much of a response. By the tenth flower mentioned, I’m beginning to hear a subtle edge to his usually jovial tone. A seed of worry begins to grow and push within my gut. I’m not concerned that Ian’s lack of enthusiasm has anything to do with some sort of underlying anger toward me. It’s actually the opposite.

  I’m concerned because, for once, he might be as nervous as I am.

  “Would you like to take a seat over here?” He motions toward a wooden bench situated under a giant tree of blooming, purple leaves.

  I allow a slight nod, choosing to let the gravel do the talking as it crunches beneath my boots on the way to the bench.

  As soon as I’m settled down beside him, his mouth opens as if to speak, only to close again. When my brows pop up in question, he laughs with a rueful shake of his head. “So, was it all you imagined it to be when you stared out over it from Mother’s windows?”

  My first answer is silence; I know it’s not the original question he was planning to ask. But then he bites his lip, looking down at his clasped hands before bringing his eyes back to mine. And in that moment, I know I’d answer any question he ever asked. “I knew it looked magnificent, with its hedged pathways and clear rock ponds. I just never imagined how peaceful it would be to hear the wind rustle softly through the trees or to smell the roses that bloom at the end of every path.” I bump him lightly with my shoulder, hoping to bring him back to himself. “If you were trying to impress, consider it done.”

  He lets out a heavy breath, relaxing into the bench and propping his arm behind my shoulders. “I was hoping you’d say that. And I also chose this bench so I could show off what I believe to be the best flower around.” He points to our left, and I follow his finger to where the tall, silver flowers grow and sway to a beat of their own beside a patch of wild, red blooms.

  “The Silver Leith?” I balk, checking his gaze to confirm I’m correct. His brow crinkles with disbelief, and I laugh, more than a little pleased to have caught him off guard. “I grew up with those very flowers in Ashen. I’ve come to learn that they’re my mother’s favorite, so Papa must have planted some to remind him of her when he left. My aunt Darcy always used to compare me to them.” I glance back at the silver blooms that grow like weeds in an otherwise uniform garden. “I guess you could say I’ve always been a little stubborn.”

  Without a word, Ian stands, striding over to the flowers and plucking one of the beautiful blooms from its stem. Returning to my side, he kneels in front of me, the silver flower in his palm like an offering that speaks of more than a bloom. “Why, the Silver Leith is only the most magnificent flower in all of Theron. Beautiful, vibrant, hardy, and strong.” He stops long enough to bat his dark lashes and blind me with the teasing glint in his eyes. “Some might even say they’re infuriatingly independent.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what is it that you say, Ian?”

  He pauses, bright white teeth shining against those full lips, and it if weren’t for my Aras, I believe I’d come undone. “I say they’re perfect.”

  Perfect. Such a small, simple word, yet it’s the very same thoughts I had to describe him. And now, I realize it’s not enough.

  “Ian,” I say, reaching out to cup both the flower and his hand in my own. “I’m so sorry about what I said to Vivi. I didn’t mean for you to hear us, and quite honestly, I shouldn’t have brought it up. You’ve been nothing but kind and generous to me since the moment we met in those woods, and I’ve only served to hurt you in more ways than you could ever deserve.”

  “Penelope, you shouldn’t—”

  “Yes, Ian, I should!”

  He shakes his head, lips moving to deny me once more, but I stand to my feet, pulling him with me and halting his speech. “Look, I can’t begin to understand how terrible this must be for you. Here you were, waiting years upon years to find your perfect princess, and when you finally do, she’s already gotten her heart wrapped up with another’s.”

  “But I can’t blame you, Penelope,” he pleads, green eyes swirling with the force of his words. “Until several weeks ago, you didn’t know me. You didn’t even know you were a princess, for Theron’s sake!”

  “But I do now,” I say, reaching up to touch his smooth cheek. “And yet, here you stand, betrothed to a woman who is too afraid to make the announcement and set a date.”

  Ian grimaces, taking my hand and pulling it tight against his chest. “I’d be a fool not to realize there is much more to the story than that. I know your father is a madman, set on ruining and ruling our kingdom. I also know he’s sent you here with the intent of bettering his position, or else he never would have let you go in the first place. My parents know it, too, and that’s why they seem as unsettled about the marriage situati
on as you do. The bottom line is, if and when Knox makes a move, we will need you on our side. They want to trust your intentions, but you can also see why it might be difficult.”

  Trust me? The fire-breathing ice beast? I can definitely understand their doubts.

  “They have to understand that I will never hurt Theron or her people, even though my father has sent me here to do that very thing. Let’s not forget this is my mother’s home, and your family took her in when my father nearly burned her to death. If there is anyone who is on your side, it’s me.”

  “Perhaps they would feel better if they understood your reservations.”

  Ahhh, reservations. Yes, I do have plenty of those, but I have a feeling this prince is referring to one of them in particular.

  I pull back my hand, popping it on my hip to hide the tremble in my voice. “Ian, is this your sneaky way of asking about my apparent attachment to my rude Orien guard?”

  “Maybe,” he allows, as if he, too, is hiding behind a carefully sculpted façade. “I have noticed he’s changed since I last saw him. Vivi tried to fill me in as best as she could on the walk here, but I can’t say I understood much. All I know is that he’s moody and even less deserving of you than he was to begin with.”

  Moody. Yes, that’s one way to describe him. Also, soulless.

  “Look, Aras isn’t as bad as you think. He’s in the horrible position he’s in now because he wanted to keep me safe. Even though he may not remember at the moment, he cares for me.” I stumble, my words becoming heavy and clogged in my throat. “He always will.”

  Ian’s eyes soften, and he steps forward as if to take my hand, but stops himself midway. “And by defeating your father, you’ll be able to free him?”

  “That’s my hope,” I whisper.