But his smile was wiped off his face by the sound of sobbing. Large sobs that quickly became uncontrollable howls.
His spine turned to ice. This wasn’t allowed. Someone was going to die today. The Conductor would never stand for this.
As subtly as he could, he lifted his face from his blanket and turned his head toward the noise. It was close. A woman. Definitely the sound of a woman.
“Jack!” she gasped. “What did you do to Jack?”
Oh, no. It was Fair Face, the Whisperer who’d been made to take Blue Eyes’ place. Only five mats down from his own.
“Jack!” she sobbed again, clearly unable to control herself, as she reached out her hand to her right, in the place Blue Eyes had once slept.
Jeremiah looked away as the Conductor hurried toward Fair Face. She’d broken too many rules to be taken to the dungeon. She’d spoken. She’d shown emotion. She’d made a noise. And worse than any of those crimes, she’d known Blue Eyes’ real name.
Jeremiah wondered how Fair Face and Blue Eyes had managed this. They must’ve spoken. Perhaps done more than speak. How? Where? Micah had found a way to talk to him, he supposed. There must be other ways he hadn’t thought of.
He’d spent the past five years with these two Whisperers and never once noticed anything unusual between them. Or perhaps special was a better word than unusual. Because what they must’ve had was something he’d never seen in this palace before. Love. Although, he was sure the other Whisperers would be just as surprised if they knew what had transpired recently between him and Rose. Perhaps even more so. Love could exist in the darkest places. This, right here, was proof of that.
He turned his face back under the blanket and put his fingers in his ears. He liked Fair Face. He didn’t want to hear her final moments.
However, fingers in his ears or not, he thought the whole kingdom would’ve heard her final moments.
“I hate you!” she screamed. “I hate all of you, lying here, accepting this. I don’t accept it. I don’t accept any of it. It’s too late for me, but it’s not too late for you. Band together and fi—”
An almighty crack echoed around the arena, followed by a thud.
Then silence. The kind that brought new meaning to the term deathly silence.
Jeremiah had no doubt Fair Face was gone. She hadn’t wanted to live without Blu—Jack. That had been his name. Jack. A man, not a Whisperer. A man who Fair Face had loved more than her own life.
He heard the shuffling of what no doubt were guards. Whisperers would never make that much noise as they walked.
The smell of smoke was worse now and Jeremiah wondered if that was because the fire was still raging or if it was because it’d been put out.
As he shuffled one place closer to the Conductor’s side, his determination of earlier built.
Fair Face was right. It wasn’t too late. He didn’t accept what was happening to him. He never had. And if he felt like that—as Fair Face had—and clearly, Jack had too, then how many more of them were there? And how did he find out who they were without following down the same path as Fair Face? Because as brave as she’d been, she hadn’t been wise enough to bide her time to do more damage before she was killed.
Or perhaps her words had done damage enough? Surely his mind wasn’t the only one buzzing here.
And who knew how he’d react if someone he loved was killed. If Micah’s mat was taken away without a word, would he be able to lie there in silence or would he erupt as Fair Face had done?
He hoped he never had to find out.
Please universe, let Rose be okay.
MICAH
SIX
It was happening. Faster than Micah ever expected. Three Whisperers in three days. Had Jeremiah had something to do with the second one? The Whisperer that woman had called Jack. She doubted it. Jeremiah hadn’t seemed keen on the idea of becoming the Conductor at all. The thought of it had horrified him.
She could understand why. It wasn’t a job she wanted—for herself or for Jeremiah. But there was no other choice. It was the only way they’d ever be able to make the change that was needed in this hellhole of a palace. They needed to be in a position of power and trust. Unless the Princess could help them out, although it didn’t seem like she had a position of either power or trust. Micah wasn’t even sure she was still alive after that fire. Jeremiah must be going out of his mind with worry.
She made her way down the passageway, heading from the bathroom to the kitchen where she had a tedious couple of hours ahead, dishing up soup. She was alone, which was a nice change, and getting the hang of walking quietly. This wasn’t something that came easily to her. Her parents used to say they could hear her coming a mile away. But her years of busking in the market, performing tricks, had been good training for learning to control her body. If only she’d known at the time what misery it was she was training for.
She’d been so naive when she first entered the palace with her useless plans to find Jeremiah and run away together the first chance they got. Then she’d seen the Conductor remove that poor woman’s head in training and she’d known she had to save more than just Jeremiah and herself.
This feeling had only grown when her training finished and she was added to the back of the arena as the newest Whisperer. The first time the Whisperers had removed their hoods and stood to grant the King his wish, she’d had to hide a gasp as the image of the back of all those bald heads branded itself into her memory. She couldn’t possibly run away, saving herself and her brother and leave all these people here to suffer. It wasn’t right. None of this was. Who knew what lives they’d had outside the palace. Some were surely mothers or fathers, but certainly, all of them were all somebody’s child (at least once, if not still) let alone sisters, lovers, friends, and cousins. They had beds that lay empty and people who were missing them. It just wasn’t right for them to be kept prisoner here.
Long gone were the days of the palace promising food and medicine in exchange for a Whisperer’s service. The King had given up on that after the first wave of Whisperers were recruited. Now they were lured by an orange, then taken by force. Instead of promising to keep their families alive, they were promised their deaths if they didn’t comply. This really didn’t bother Micah. At least it was honest. The way Jeremiah had been fooled only seemed to make what had happened to him even worse.
Micah’s foot caught on the bottom of her robe and she stumbled, catching herself just in time and taking a deep breath to still her racing heart. She needed to be more careful. Smoothing down her robe, she slowed her pace as she rounded another corner, almost at the kitchen now.
She could still smell the charred ashes from the fire, reminding her that her plan was more urgent than ever. The fire had been put out eventually, but not before destroying several rooms and taking the life of the Whisperer called Jack. That scene in the arena, when Jack’s true love had sacrificed herself, had been difficult to witness. Not that she’d looked directly at it. Although she’d witnessed it with her ears and that’d been more than enough. The sound of that poor woman in so much pain at the loss of her beloved. And then the silence, which was even worse than her screams.
The fire definitely wasn’t a good sign. Could it really be a coincidence that the Princesses’ rooms were the ones affected, so soon after the birth of the Prince? The King may think his people were too stupid to link these events, but it seemed obvious to her.
Although, whatever he’d been planning had backfired. She had proof of that approaching her in the opposite direction in the passageway. The four princesses were walking toward her, the youngest two being carried by their elder sisters. Micah had never seen them before and her eyes were glued to Rose.
Micah could see immediately why Rose had won her brother’s heart. She was pure, raw beauty. Even more beautiful than her mother, the Queen—something Micah hadn’t thought was possible. She had long, blonde hair, the palest blue eyes and skin the color of milk. Micah felt hideous in comparison, with her bald
head and ugly, shapeless robe. It was the first time since entering the palace that she’d given her appearance any thought. She scolded herself. How she looked had never been important to her. Why should she start caring now?
She tried to drag her gaze away as she passed, but Rose caught her staring and locked her eyes on her.
“Are you Jeremiah’s sister?” she said, keeping her voice low.
Her sisters widened their eyes at the sound of Rose speaking to a Whisperer.
“Hush,” she said to them.
“How did you know?” Micah asked the question before she could stop herself. Speaking to the Princess was a crime punishable by death. Although, Jeremiah had said she could trust her. And it seemed rude not to answer.
“It was the way you looked at me. And you have the same eyes,” said the Princess. “You’re lovely.”
Micah liked that. Not the lovely bit, as that was clearly a lie, but the bit about having Jeremiah’s eyes.
“You’re safe?” Micah asked the question Jeremiah was unable. Maybe she’d get an opportunity to pass on a message later.
Rose shook her head. “Not safe, although we survived.” It was obvious she knew exactly what had happened. This princess was no fool. Micah felt sorry for her, before reminding herself how lucky this girl was. Even if her father was trying to kill her, her life was still better than her own. After all, in many ways, the King had already succeeded in killing Micah. She certainly felt like she was dead.
Micah stepped away. She’d risked talking for long enough.
“Wait,” said the Princess, tugging on her robe. “I like your idea. Jeremiah told me. Just before the fire.”
Micah’s eyes lit up and she dared a smile. Perhaps she wasn’t quite dead just yet. “But there are still seven places to go.”
“We’ll work it out,” said the Princess, her voice a hush. “If all of us try, we can surely get him to move up that line faster. However, we all must do our bit. Nobody can achieve that alone. I’ll help. I promise. But you must help too.”
Micah nodded. So, the Princess was brave as well as beautiful. She was pleased it wasn’t just her looks that’d drawn Jeremiah in. There was a lot more to this Princess than met the eye.
A Whisperer entered the passageway and the conversation was dropped. The Princesses continued on their way, as did Micah. It was as if nothing had ever happened.
Only it had. The Princess had made Micah more determined than ever to succeed in her plan. She wanted nothing more than to bring this palace down.
Micah went to the kitchen and saw that the Cook had placed the pot of soup on the servery, ready for her to dish up.
Micah collected the wooden bowls and set them beside the pot. Soon the dining hall would fill with hungry Whisperers, who would leave almost as hungry as they arrived.
Her conversation with the Princess had gotten her fired up. She had to figure out how to remove another Whisperer from their position in the arena. The Princess had said it herself. They all needed to do their bit. And they had no time to waste.
But how to get another Whisperer sent to the dungeon, to join that poor woman whose fate Micah was already responsible for? She refused to believe that the Whisperer in the bathroom had been killed. The guilt of that would be too much to bear. It was easier to imagine her in the dungeon, as awful as that thought was. She really hadn’t meant to get anyone in trouble. However, if they could succeed in getting Jeremiah to be the Conductor, hopefully, they could also succeed in getting the prisoners in the dungeon released. These Whisperers wouldn’t suffer for too long.
When the cook's back was turned, Micah acted swiftly. It was a plan she came up with as fast as the movement of her hand. She picked up the tin of rat poison and sprinkled a dose into the palm of her hand, tipping it into one of the soup bowls. The poison was back on the shelf in a matter of seconds. She’d taken so little of it that the cook would never realize, not even the next time he went to deal with an unfortunate rodent. The dose in her hand wasn’t enough to kill a person, yet enough to make someone sick so that they’d surely cry out in pain and be sent to the dungeon for their noise. This was her plan and she felt awful about it. It wasn’t the right thing to do at all. But she was going to do it. She was desperate. They must all do their part. When the Princess heard about this, it might spark her into action to remove one of the Whisperers on her own.
Micah’s heart pounded underneath her robe, reminding her that she was still very much alive, even if she was about to do something she’d never have contemplated in the Before.
The line of Whisperers came creeping into the dining hall and she carefully began dishing each of them a bowl of muddy soup water. She’d memorized the faces of the seven Whisperers who were ahead of Jeremiah and decided to hand over the poisoned bowl to whoever came to her first, simply because she needed to get this over with before she lost her nerve. Sending someone to the dungeon was a horrible thing to do. But what choice did she have? And the sooner she could get Jeremiah to hold that sword, the sooner they’d be able to have the prisoners released. Well, she sincerely hoped so. It was all still a long shot.
Her stomach tightened when she saw her target join the line. An older man with a large bump in his nose that made her certain it was him, no matter how alike these Whisperers looked. She’d noticed that the longer she was in the palace, the more unique each Whisperer looked. And this one was unmistakable.
When he reached the front of the line, she reached for the bowl, trying to hide the shaking of her hands. It wasn’t too late to back out.
Yet no matter how much her mind screamed at her to abort her plans, she couldn’t. She had to go through with it. This Whisperer needed to make way for Jeremiah.
She poured the soup into the bowl and watched the rat poison dissolve. Her movements were slow, careful, noiseless.
Just as she’d been trained, she held out the bowl, keeping her face down, not making eye contact with this poor man. She was grateful for that. How could you look someone in the eye as you sent them to live in a dungeon?
He took his bowl and moved away.
Micah drew in a deep breath, willing her hands to be still. She’d done it! She’d actually done it. She was fighting back the only way she knew how.
She lifted the next bowl from the pile and continued to serve, all the time waiting for the inevitable sound she knew would erupt from the poor Whisperer’s mouth.
It happened faster than she expected. She’d seen a rat eat the poison before and it’d taken ages to die.
The noise was terrible. Awful. The worst noise she’d heard in her life. Worse than the Whisperer dying in the arena while calling for her love. Worse than the silence that followed it. Because this noise had been caused by her.
It was like a howl or a groan or a screech. It wasn’t the sound of a man being poisoned. It was the sound of a man dying.
Micah froze, with her ladle hovering over the next bowl. Something had gone horribly wrong. Had she put in too much? This man was a hundred times larger than a rat and she’d only given him a few pellets. The cook put out far more than this for the rats. The difference must be that the rats only ate one pellet, not the whole pile. She’d obviously gone too far.
The Whisperer standing before her, waiting for her bowl, had dared to glance up at her. To catch her eye in a way that was strictly forbidden.
Micah locked eyes with her and silent words passed between them. Words that Micah didn’t deserve. This Whisperer was looking at her with sympathy, as if telling her that it wasn’t her fault the soup had made him sick. How little she knew.
The Whisperer nodded at Micah, urging her to continue with her task before the Conductor felt the need to discipline more than one Whisperer today. This silent communication was new to Micah. In the short time she’d been at the palace, this was the closest she’d come to having a conversation with anyone, apart from Jeremiah. Had the dying words of the woman in the arena had some kind of effect? Were people starting to rebe
l, just like the woman had begged them to?
The awful noise continued. The man was standing now, clutching at his middle and vomiting up a horrible red liquid. Blood. It had to be blood.
Micah blinked back tears as she poured soup into the bowl.
The man was going to die. Nobody vomited up blood like that and lived. She thought of her mother and the way she’d died, lying in a pool of her own blood.
It was too much.
She handed the soup to the Whisperer, who mouthed the words “It’s okay,” at her. But it wasn’t okay. She’d just killed a man. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t meant to. It was what she’d done. He’d taken a bowl of soup from her and eaten it, trusting that it would strengthen his body, not rob it of life.
The Conductor went to the dying Whisperer and smiled, standing over him as he fell to the floor. He didn’t take his sword to him, as he didn’t need to. This Whisperer was being punished already and no doubt his punishment would soon be over.
The screaming turned to silence, just as it had in the arena. And as Micah continued to serve the soup, she dreaded Jeremiah joining the line. He’d know she’d had something to do with what just happened. And there was no way he’d be happy about it. He’d be so disappointed in her. No doubt she’d have lost all respect in his eyes. It was too much to bear.
She saw him join the line and with each step he took closer to the front, she felt her legs weaken.
When he got to her, he looked her straight in the eye, confident the Conductor was otherwise occupied with removing that poor man’s body.
“Did you do it?” he whispered, his voice little more than a breath.
A tear escaped down her cheek as she answered. “I didn’t mean to.”
But instead of the hatred she expected to see in his eyes, she saw some kind of understanding.
He nodded, and as he took his bowl from her, he let his fingers brush against her own. It seemed the only way he could let her know he still loved her. How could he possibly love a murderer? For that’s what she was, wasn’t she?
The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set Page 13
