Hush

by Dylan Farrow

  Mads … a pang of guilt pierces me. It has been days since I’ve thought of him.

  The sky darkens, and a flash of pain gallops through my skull as my focus slips. Before I can catch hold of it, a clap of thunder shakes the air, startling me. Dark clouds have massed over the sun, where moments ago the sky was clear.

  Something is wrong.

  My beautiful field is dying.

  The greenery recedes into black, withered stalks. They crumble and fall as another wave of thunder echoes overhead.

  Doves screech in pain as they swarm and collide with one another. Their movements are erratic—as if they have gone rabid and are trying to snap their own necks.

  Their bodies fall with sickening thuds. Their delicate little bodies lie broken on the blackened earth. I cry out in fear as I try to run. But Ravod holds me in place.

  I’m screaming, the image burned into my eyes even as I press them closed. I take one rattling breath after another.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for.” Under his breath, he whispers a gentle Telling that pulls everything back into place around us. Undoing my mistake. The plains are as they once were. Barren. “I know it was difficult, but you needed to see. There are consequences when we lose control. Any Telling can turn into a disaster if you’re not careful. You need to understand that our Tellings have limits. Once the balance has gone too far in one direction, there is no bringing it back.”

  I swallow hard, confused and so shaken, I’m afraid I may collapse. A wave of dizziness overcomes me and my knees give out.

  Ravod awkwardly catches me against his chest, and suddenly, all that exists in the world is the warmth of his body and the muffled, steady beat of his heart against my ear. Proximity to him is like standing in the middle of a fire, both warm and suffocating. He holds me there, seeming unsure of what to do next. His eyes are a storm—lost to something in the past, and I am caught somewhere in the middle.

  “What happened to you, Ravod?” I breathe, tilting my face up to his.

  My question is innocent, but it’s enough for Ravod’s walls to lock back in place. He loosens his grip around me, pushing me back to stand on my own.

  “We should go back. You need to rest.” There’s a grimace of pain in the way he averts his eyes instead of looking into mine. A flash of a feeling I know intimately. It’s the same pain I felt at Ma’s death. I know then that I’m right. He has lost something great and terrible, and he’ll never be the same.

  * * *

  The ride back seems steeper than the way there; the horses are harder to motivate. Maybe it’s only the exhaustion at my core—the shock of what I experienced. The immense high and low of it.

  The clouds billow and the sun sets, glancing off the sides of the mountain in flashes and glares, and I think again about my conversation with Cathal. About the Book of Days.

  If he’s right, if it is real, maybe it can do more than give me Ma’s killer.

  Maybe it can help us fix things like that barren place. Maybe it can help all of Aster. What if we rewrote the world?

  The idea is so wild, I am half dizzy with it.

  When we pass through the gates of the courtyard, Ravod dismounts first and watches as I follow, his dark eyes tracing my every movement.

  I want to trust him. I want it more than almost anything.

  I bite my lip when I see the hilt of a golden dagger peeking out of his boot, and I remember the papers I have been keeping close.

  Ravod is not my ma’s killer. I don’t need the Book of Days to know that. This truth I feel so deeply, I know I can’t be wrong.

  But he could still know something about it.

  “You should head to the refectory and eat something. You need to keep up your strength.” Ravod has already started walking away.

  “Wait,” I call out. He turns with a slight frown. My heart thuds as I jump headfirst, acting before I can second-guess myself. “Before you leave.” My hand reaches into my pocket, pulling out the papers I took from Niall’s room. “You need to see this.”

  Ravod’s frown intensifies when he takes the papers from me. His dark eyes scan the contents carefully. After what feels like an eternity, he looks at me.

  “Where did you get these?” he asks. His melodic voice radiates anger. It makes the skin on the back of my neck tingle. Maybe he knows what they are for.

  There is only one way to find out.

  With a deep breath, I reply, “Perhaps I should just show you.”

  19

  “You went into the men’s barracks?”

  Standing outside the door at the back of the shooting range, I grimace and shrug defensively at the shock in Ravod’s voice.

  “I needed answers,” I say. “And I found them. I think.” He’ll understand when he sees: the maps, the forbidden writing.

  “You should not have been unescorted.” Ravod runs a hand through his hair and it flops back into place with a few strands in disarray. That he’s so flustered by this is actually a little endearing. “And what you found is mildly suspicious at best.”

  “I’m escorted now, aren’t I?” I retort. “So let’s go.”

  With a heavy sigh, Ravod pushes the door open and leads me inside. Like before, the barracks are deserted, with everyone on duty. He follows as I trace the path Imogen showed me to Niall’s quarters. My feet remember the way, even as my heart rate notches up in my chest.

  “What does it say? On the papers I found,” I ask Ravod over my shoulder. I can’t look him in the eyes. My hands are shaking.

  “Longitudes and latitudes of different locations,” Ravod replies. “They’re directional coordinates.”

  “That’s it?” Worry tumbles through me. Am I wrong to suspect more? “But why would Niall want directions to my house?”

  Ravod shrugs. “Unlike the spoken word, anything set in ink is permanent. It could be a Telling. Or someone consulting Niall’s maps was scouting the location for a possible stronghold or safe house for Bards in the field.”

  “It’s not a coincidence,” I say firmly, anger boiling in my gut. I stop him outside Niall’s room with a hand on his forearm. He tenses at the contact and I withdraw my hand; his warmth lingers. I compose myself and look into Ravod’s eyes. “My mother was murdered in that house, with a Bard’s dagger, right after your group left. The killer is a Bard, either Niall or Kennan. If you don’t believe me, go and look for yourself.”

  Ravod holds my gaze, and I could swear fear flickers behind his eyes, before he sighs and disappears through the curtain into Niall’s room.

  I watch the curtain for several minutes, hardly daring to blink. My nails dig into my palms at my sides and my teeth grind together. There has to be something in there that confirms my suspicions.

  My heart jumps when the curtain rustles and Ravod emerges, his face grim. I watch him expectantly. He must have found something …

  As though he anticipates my question, he shakes his head.

  “No…” A bad feeling wells inside me as I push past him, past the curtain, and into Niall’s room.

  It’s clean. Pristine. All the maps and books and ink are gone. Nothing remains to even suggest that I found anything there to begin with. He must have gotten rid of it all after he found the broken bottle. I stand in shock, feeling as if all the blood in my body is draining out the soles of my feet onto the floor.

  A gentle hand on my shoulder makes me whirl around. Ravod’s face is unreadable, like always. “Come on, Shae. It’s time to go.” He says it as if I’m a fragile child.

  Like he pities me.

  He doesn’t believe me.

  “No, this isn’t right!” I exclaim. “There were books here!” I try to keep my voice from trembling. “Ink! Papers and…” I trail off under Ravod’s cool gaze and finally cover my face with my hands.

  I can’t even summon the will to protest as Ravod escorts me back outside the barracks and up to the training grounds. He lea
ds me to one of the marble benches near the perimeter and motions for me to sit.

  My body sways as my knees weaken, and I’m grateful for the seat. Between the horrors of the day and the confusion of Niall’s rooms being empty, one thought keeps floating up to me, like a sinister taunt …

  What if I’m going mad?

  The untilled earth in my mother’s pastures flashes before my mind. The constable sneering at me. The dizzying way Mads and Fiona turned away from me, certain I was only bringing danger on them and myself.

  Has everything I’ve done been an unraveling of madness within, the corrupting power of the gift, untrained and wild within me?

  I don’t even realize tears are streaking down my face until Ravod haltingly pats my shoulder. My eyes are anchored stubbornly on my feet. I watch from the corner of my eye as he leans forward on his knees.

  “You shouldn’t let yourself come undone like this,” he says. It’s a knife to the gut. He sounds just like Mads. It makes me furious.

  “If I shut down and refuse to care like you do, my mother will have died for nothing,” I say, lifting my eyes boldly to his. “She deserves better than that.”

  “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t say anything,” Ravod replies evenly. My anger flips over, tumbling past my heart. “You’re my charge. Your well-being is my responsibility.”

  I blink. My sense returns somewhat. Of course that’s the only reason he has to care about me. I take a deep breath. “It’s just…” I stare at him. I want to make him understand how I feel, how intriguing I find him. I want to put words to the amorphous feelings that overwhelmed me back in the meadow.

  “I care about you. A lot,” is all I manage to say.

  “That’s very considerate,” Ravod says with a tiny nod as my confession flies over his head.

  I look away quickly. My feelings have only just crystallized and still feel raw and new. I force myself to look at him, trying to make him see what I mean with my eyes. He stares back at me innocently, and I raise an eyebrow.

  The blank expression frozen on Ravod’s face melts into bewilderment, like I’ve just handed him an axe and asked him to chop his own hand off.

  He stands abruptly and takes two deliberate steps away from the bench before stopping. He turns back to me, head cocked. Thousands of thoughts flicker behind his eyes in rapid succession.

  I say nothing, frozen in place, as much in shock as he is. He takes a ragged breath.

  “I will inform Cathal that a conflict of interest prevents me from continuing your training and request a position elsewhere in the castle so you can resolve these feelings,” he says, his voice cold with authority. “I’m sorry, Shae. I appreciate your honesty.”

  Without another word, he disappears across the training grounds. Every step he takes causes the hollow cavity in my chest to grow larger, threatening to swallow me up inside it. I wait until he is out of sight to finally let my tears overtake me again.

  * * *

  The castle is consumed with festivities by the time night falls. The foreign dignitaries Cathal mentioned arrive by carriage beneath twinkling stars, dressed in stunning suits and gowns, as if they stepped out of one of Ma’s bedtime stories.

  The flurry of activity provides the small mercy of being overlooked as I stalk back to my dormitory. No one cares to stare at the lone trainee with tears in her eyes when there are other, more beautiful people to ogle.

  Distantly, I hear an elegant tune playing. The music is light and uplifting, completely at odds with the hard shell of hurt in my chest. I’m thankful I have no rank and am not needed to participate in the security detail. I don’t think I could stand being around people after the day I had.

  I only have to keep from falling apart long enough to reach the privacy of my room.

  I want to be angry. Part of me wants to find Ravod and Kennan and Niall and scream at them until I’m blue in the face.

  Not that it would be any use. It feels like I’ve been banging my head against a wall since coming here, accomplishing absolutely nothing.

  A quick flash of movement catches my eye. I turn my head just in time to see Imogen disappear around a corner.

  It’s strange that she’s not with everyone else attending to the ball. The conversation I overheard between Cathal and the chamberlain made it sound like every last pair of hands was needed at the event.

  I peer down the hall after her. She is glancing around furtively as she walks.

  I definitely know sneaking around when I see it.

  My problems momentarily forgotten, I slip after her, keeping myself at a safe distance in the shadows. High House is certainly a hotbed of secrets. Even little Imogen has some, apparently.

  From the other end of the hall, I watch Imogen halt in front of a statue of an unknown Bard. I squint through the darkness, trying to see her better. She’s shifting her weight rapidly between her feet and knotting her fingers in front of her.

  Faint footsteps from the adjacent corridor herald the arrival of a newcomer.

  “There you are!” Imogen sighs impatiently. The silhouette of a muscular figure wearing a guard’s uniform comes into view. “Hurry up, before they realize we’re missing at the party.”

  The guard replies, but his voice is too quiet to make out. They don’t seem to be exchanging anything but words.

  When the guard turns, I catch a fleeting glimpse of blue eyes beneath a square brow. Features that remind me of Mads.

  How silly of me. Mads is far away in Aster, working the mill with his father. He probably put me from his mind ages ago. Or at the very least, does not remember me all too fondly. Serves me right. I am the girl who broke his heart.

  Fitting, after today, that I’m the one who winds up rejected. My guilt over Mads was punishing me in the wasteland earlier and corrupted my Telling. Fate must be punishing me now, projecting his features onto some random guard.

  There is so much left unresolved. I probably thought of Mads because I’m desperate for something familiar in this huge, unfriendly place.

  The music fades and changes. A slow, sad ballad begins, accompanied by singing in a language I’ve never heard. The guard rushes away. Imogen waits a careful moment before following.

  My body sways, much heavier suddenly. Fatigue overcomes all my senses, purging my thoughts until all that’s left is the desire to collapse in bed and wake up with some distance between myself and this day.

  I take a deep breath and resume my lonely walk to my room.

  * * *

  My dreams that night take me to dark places. Haunted memories. Old hurts.

  I wake several times, tangled in my sheets, and I could swear I hear footsteps outside my door followed by a soft knock. I want to answer. I yearn for it to be Ravod with a different response. But I also don’t. If he came to talk about what happened earlier, I’m not sure I could control myself. Every time I close my eyes, I see the cold indifference in his eyes right before he walked away, and my limbs tremble.

  Maybe coming here was a mistake. I think of the devastation of the barren fields. Of Cathal’s words about the Book of Days. Of Niall’s contraband items, vanished as if they’d never been. Imagining Mads’s blue eyes, wanting so badly to find something familiar in this place.

  I think, over and over, of Ravod. The pain he tries to hide and the intensity in his voice that betrays him.

  This is a disaster. Female Bards are supposed to be the most volatile, vulnerable to our emotions and desires. I’m standing at the edge of a knife.

  Madness. The word haunts me as I toss against the sheets, wishing they were Ravod’s arms, wishing I could run away, rewind time, and make the hurt stop.

  Finally, I clutch at my needles on the bedside table. It’s a strange comfort, holding them close.

  I drift back into sleep.

  It feels like only moments later that I hear a knocking at my door. Finally, I get up to open it, but no one is there. Yet there are whispers swirling all around me in the still air of the hallway. I t
urn and run through the halls of High House while they shift and alter, turning in circles. Doorway after doorway. Archway after archway. Stairwells and hidden doors and more hallways.

  I shudder, knowing I am lost. I shove open a door, and it is not a room at all but Fiona’s store. No. I turn and continue racing through the maze of a fortress. In another room, Mads awaits me. He’s sitting there in a leather chair, one leg crossed over the knee, whittling a piece of wood. He looks up at me and shakes his head, disapproving. His eyes are indigo, weeping ink down his cheeks. I scream, and he bursts into ash.

  Suddenly I’m back in my own home, where Kieran lies dying in his bed, dark blue veins winding over his face. Ma tends to him, and I want to cry out, want to hug them both, want to freeze time and stay here forever, before I lose Kieran. But already the ground is rumbling beneath me, thunderous and terrifying, and through the window, I see an avalanche of rocks and mud. Walls collapse around us, and I watch as they are both swallowed in a landslide. I can’t save them. I am thrown back and we are separated.

  I scream again, flying rearward but finding no ground.

  A hot burst of panic. I try to awaken myself to no avail. The usual trick of squeezing my eyes shut and opening them fast doesn’t work. When I try, I’m back on the training grounds.

  Ravod stands in front of me, the same way he did this afternoon. Except horror is etched into his beautiful features as he watches me. I open my mouth to speak, and one by one, every Bard in High House appears behind him, staring at me accusingly.

  The ground beneath my feet starts to tremble. It’s happening again. As if the avalanche, the curse, the madness, has followed me.

  “Shae,” Ravod whispers, somehow louder than the sound of the mountain quaking beneath us. “What have you done?” he says.

  The tremors throw me back over the side of the cliff. I cling to the edge for dear life, but it’s too much, and I fall, the rush of the waterfall everywhere, swallowing me whole.

  My eyes snap open in the dark. I try to breathe.