“I see.” She sits beside him and rests a hand over his. “Do I look like her?”
“Unbearably so,” he says with throaty voice and wetness in his eyes. Then he stiffens and stands quickly from the chaise. “Forgive me, Celeste. There’s business I must attend to.”
Her face falls. She struggles to reassemble a composed visage. “Of course, my lord. Thank you for answering my message. I’ve always enjoyed our conversations.”
Without thinking, I dart behind a tapestry. Adom closes the door. He passes the tapestry and I bite my tongue, knowing how foolish I’ll look if I reveal my location.
“I know you’re there,” he says under his breath.
I step away from the tapestry. “Adom.”
He approaches me in two steps, eyes narrowed. “That isn’t my name.”
“Forgive me… Count Malandre.”
His muscles relax. “It’s all right.”
I lower my head, feeling inexplicably subdued. “I have news.”
“So do I. Let’s go.” He takes my hand and pulls me along the corridor in the direction of King Siles’ private dining chamber. I wiggle away from his grip.
He rotates. “What?”
“It won’t look proper,” I whisper.
A muscle twitches in his jaw. He nods and turns to the stairs.
I follow without a word.
~ * ~
“What did you learn from Miss Harminy?” Adom turns to me once we are both seated in front of the king. “Were you able to visit her?”
I dip my chin. “She saw Faigen the day he was scorched. A woman accompanied him.” My eyes flicker to Adom’s. “Her name was Siren.”
Siles frowns. “That can’t be right.” He puts a hand on Adom’s shoulder. “We don’t know if it’s the same woman. I’ll assign a man to review the city census data for the name.”
“If Siren was a changeling, she couldn’t have died of nightshade poison.”
“Nightshade poisoning?” Adom’s eyebrows shoot up. “She died of a fever.”
I shake my head. “Rhydian said the family lied to cover the truth. Her father poisoned her with nightshade because of…” I look at Adom and feel heat scorching my cheeks.
“Rhydian?” he asks, his face a calm mask, dissonant with the rage in his voice.
I am bungling this meeting with the king as badly as the first. “What if Siren lived?”
Adom is unusually quiet. I keep glancing his direction, waiting for his anger to boil over. He’s so unlike Rhydian who, as much as he talks about logic and reason, can’t contain his feelings for even a moment. In contrast, Adom is well-practiced in the art of hiding emotion.
Siles tilts his head toward Adom. “Would she harbor ill feelings, Adom?”
“Why would she?” I blurt out. “None of it is Adom’s fault. He didn’t poison her. And you sent him on a voyage when it happened, so he couldn’t come back.”
Siles frowns. “I never—”
Adom plants his palms on the table and stands. “That’s enough of this. Siren hasn’t returned. Someone is masquerading as her to get under my skin.” He turns resentful eyes on me. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Rhydian is behind it. I didn’t realize the two of you were so friendly.”
“Rhydian isn’t your enemy. He’s hurt, and his anger is misplaced. If you had talked to him then, when he needed it, and if you had explained why you weren’t there—”
“You don’t know why I wasn’t there,” he cuts in.
“You told me you were on Onyx. You told Lady Celeste you were on a boat.”
“You were listening to that?”
“Of course I was. It’s what I do.”
“Eavesdropping is rude,” he comments dryly.
“And how would I know that?”
His nostrils flare. “You want to know why I didn’t return when Siren was at home, dying? I received the message. Siles sent it to me the same way he sends all the messages—through homing pigeon. I could have changed and flown and been there in hours. I could have stood at her side and smelled the nightshade on her breath and saved her before she died.”
I shrink away. “Then why didn’t you?”
“Because of you.”
My gut sinks. “What do you mean?”
He places his hands at his sides and is suddenly calm again. “You were in trouble that day—you’d tried running away again. The dragons were talking about disposing of you. I didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you while I was away, and I couldn’t take you with me—it would have raised too many questions. Siren had never changed, so I wasn’t sure she was a changeling. But Muuth swore her family had taken Jetarna’s treatment, so I took a risk and stayed with you.”
I breathe in and out very carefully. “Are you blaming me for what happened?”
“It isn’t anyone’s fault that she died.”
“Is this why you kept me prisoner all these years? To punish me?”
“Lodin’s ashes No.” His eyes widen in horror.
In my mind’s eye, I hear the voices at the watchtower again. Lady Celeste speaking to someone with a broken voice. Someone who wanted to start a war. To kill off all the dragons.
“If Siren is alive, she wants revenge.”
Adom’s eyes glint, but then the light dulls. “For what?”
I tell them about the voices Rhydian and I overheard in the watchtower. About seeing Celeste leave the tower alone. About the children who swore they saw a dragon perch on the tower only moments before.
“You abandoned her. You gambled with her life. She knew you could be at her side in hours if you’d wanted to be there. Maybe she was testing you the same way you tested her. You thought she would live, so you didn’t come.”
The king lets out a soft moan. “Could there be another explanation for Celeste’s involvement?” he asked, brows furrowed together in a look that strikes me as agony.
“Rhydian is going to ask her. He believes in her innocence.” I hold up a hand. “We can’t know anything from that conversation. Don’t assume the worst.”
“But shouldn’t I cancel the wedding?” the king asks.
“No. If she’s one of the changelings, it will only raise suspicion.”
“Why wouldn’t Siren contact me? Why would she wait until now to reappear?” Adom shakes his head. “No. Lord Berrel is feeding Elanor lies to unsettle me. He might have hired someone to meet with Celeste and stage the words so it sounded like Siren.”
“It doesn’t add up,” I say. “Lord Faigen was with a woman with a mangled voice who called herself Siren. His own cousin testified to it. Then he appears on our doorstep with dragon burns. Rhydian is clever, but he can’t hire the whole town to play along. There’s a changeling involved.”
“Berrel could have hurt Faigen himself,” he argues, but doubt creeps into his voice.
“He didn’t. You should have seen his face when Harminy mentioned—”
Adom rounds on me. “You took him with you? How much does Berrel know about our investigation?”
“Nothing. He wants to find out who burned Lord Faigen as much as we all do.”
“So he knows about Faigen?”
“Everybody knows about Faigen. The servants talk.”
“And what about Darton?”
My eyelids drop. “He knows about him, too. Remember the announcement you and Siles made to the group of lords the first night we spoke again? Berrel was there. He’s my friend, Adom. I trust him.”
Adom thumps into a seat stiffly, arms crossed and face avoiding my gaze. The tips of my ears burn, but I’m not sure whether it’s because of Adom’s angry voice or that the king can hear us bickering. My heart flutters in my chest.
“What about Muuth?” I ask gruffly as Adom cuts me a slice of cake. “What’d you learn from him?” My thoughts gather in a sw
irling tempest. The answer to this changeling riddle is so close. Right in front of me.
Adom hesitates. “He wasn’t there. It’s why I left so soon.”
King Siles leans forward in his seat, his fingertips drumming against the table. “What do you mean he wasn’t there?”
Adom shrugs. “I couldn’t find him.”
“And how is that possible?” Siles inquires.
I take a bite of the moist, spongy cake, then take a drink of water to quench a sudden thirst. The dessert has a peculiar aftertaste, like a spicy fruit I don’t remember. Yet there is something potently familiar about it, as if I should be able to identify it.
“I think he escaped. He probably used the boat.”
“There was no boat,” I say. “Muuth told me it had been destroyed a long time ago.” All at once, my tongue feels heavy and my thoughts sluggish.
Adom levels an unimpressed look my direction. “He lied. The boat was there when I left you on Onyx. I checked myself. He buried it beneath a pile of rags and ropes, intact.” His eyebrows rise. “You might have noticed if you didn’t blindly trust your friends.”
The jab burns more than the ache in my side from all the walking this morning.
“Why now?” Siles inquires. “He could have left at any point.”
“Elanor?” Adom asks. “You know him better than anyone.”
“Something’s changed,” I whisper hoarsely. “He wouldn’t leave Onyx without a reason. He feels like he has to stay in case the sun’s acid comes back. To warn you and the dragons.” My eyes, suddenly dry, squint against the brightness of all the flickering lamps lit in the room.
“Sun’s acid,” Adom breathes softly. “And what if that’s the reason?”
Siles sits back in his chair. “We don’t know for sure.”
“We shouldn’t take chances until we do,” Adom says. “We can’t leave the castle until we find Muuth. If that’s the reason he’s left Onyx, the other dragons will be equally as helpless.”
The world blurs. “Don’t touch the cake,” I rasp.
My throat thickens. The room crinkles. I tumble off the seat, and my eyes hone in on the one thing pulling me out of the blackness: Adom’s terrified face.
~ * ~
Poison! Someone tried to kill the king. Suddenly alert, I organize scattered words that are all mixed up in my pounding skull. My voice cracks, unintelligible and garbled. I groan a second time.
“Don’t move,” says a voice above me.
“Adom?” This time, the sound makes sense in my ears. I open my eyes, but everything is groggy and hot and black, like my head is covered by a burlap sack.
“I’m here.”
I struggle up, but my head swims.
“Stay still.”
At last the dark spots whirling across my vision cease to move, and I can just make out the silhouettes of Adom and the king standing over me.
“I’m not dead?” I croak.
“No,” says King Siles. “You can thank Adom and Patience. He raced to her and she made an emetic. That’s why your voice is so scratchy. We suspect nightshade.”
I tilt my head to the blur I guess is Adom. “Thank you.”
The world clears in lazy, pulsating dark spots. Adom’s profile grows distinct. I sit up. My pulse beats with abnormal rapidity. Satin pillows and delicate embroidery cover the king’s chaise like myriad colorful leaves. I glance at the dinner plates stacked on trays by the dinner table. The cake lay untouched. I inhale slowly. How long have I suffered? A few hours? And how much longer until the queasiness in my stomach subsides?
“Who’s responsible for it?”
Adom sits on the edge of the chaise. “Lord Berrel told you his sister was poisoned. Didn’t you say it was nightshade? Nobody but the family knew the details of the death.”
“Rhydian didn’t do this,” I insist. “It has to be Celeste.”
“Does he know you meet with us?”
“No. He thinks I’m avoiding you.”
“Maybe he knows. Maybe he’s playing you.”
“He wouldn’t risk my life to get revenge on you,” I reply.
“How can you be so sure?”
I refuse to answer. Adom wanted me to help him track down the changelings, but the one changeling I found doesn’t want Adom to know about it. How can I help them both when they hate and distrust each other?
Then I think of something. “Who delivered the food?”
Siles shares a weary look with Adom. “Cydra. We’re waiting on news from the guards.”
“Is she a changeling?”
“We don’t know yet,” Adom replies.
The queasiness intensifies. I cover my mouth in sudden panic. Adom hands me a basin. I retch.
“I feel terrible.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
King Siles hands me a wet rag and a cup of water. I sip, letting the water cleanse my mouth and soothe my burning throat.
“You look terrible,” Adom grunts, but his eyes twinkle. Then he grows serious. “Elanor, nightshade is potent stuff. You could have died.”
“Better thank Patience with extra gold coins and maybe some new hunting equipment.” I dab my forehead with the rag King Siles handed me. The king notices my efforts and pries the rag from my hand. I numbly allow him to moisten my face. “I have a long list of tasks I really need to get to.”
“Are you insane as Muuth?” Adom explodes. “You need rest.”
“If Patience knows, the servants will soon be talking. Ryrick will worry, too. I have to show them all there’s nothing wrong. They’ll wonder why you both attended to me.”
Adom throws me a sidelong, unhappy gaze. “Are you sure you aren’t more concerned with what Lord Berrel might think?” My silence seems to drain him. “Please, Elanor. Stay and rest. I’ll explain your absence to Ryrick and the staff, and even to Lord Berrel if you want it.”
My body feels as though an entire mountain fell on top of me. My stomach hasn’t relieved itself entirely, and it’s only a matter of time before I reach for the basin again. Attempting a weak smile, I allow Adom this small victory. “Anyone hungry for cake?”
TWELVE
My pulse comes in short, erratic bursts. I breathe in the crisp night air, hoping to cool the fever in my mind, the swirling, disorienting fear that holds me captive.
“Elanor.” The king calls out my name softly, his shadow appearing at the doorway between the rooms. Against my protestations, Adom and Siles moved me to the king’s antechamber. They claim it’s more secure, away from prying eyes. A servant leaving the king’s chambers under such circumstances was sure to draw attention.
He edges closer. A ray of moonlight casts an eerie glow on his countenance. “It’s time for me to leave. With Adom gone in search of Muuth, I’m the only one left to guard the countryside. I’ve asked Patience to watch over you tonight. She should be here momentarily.”
Pain in my upper abdomen evolves into convulsions in my lower gut. The king peeks in through the canopy curtains and observes me for a moment. He thumbs a wet spot on his cheek. It catches me off guard—why would Siles cry over me?
“I’ve never seen Adom ruffled before,” he says. “When you’re with him, he comes alive.”
“It’s easy to come alive when you’re with someone who wants to kill you,” I say.
“You don’t really want to kill him, do you?”
“If he doesn’t stop ordering me around, I might.”
Siles chuckles. “You’re too hard on him. He only wants you to be happy.”
“I’m not going back to Onyx.”
“I don’t think that’s what he wants, either.”
“You knew about it. Even sanctioned it. Why?”
The king pauses for a long time before replying. “Because there was a monster on Onyx who needed taming. Wh
o needed not lose touch with their human side.”
“Adom,” I mumble, licking cracked lips. “But why me?”
“That’s not for me to explain,” the king says. “Nevertheless, I agreed to his plan. But it is his story to tell, not mine.”
“I’m Tranar. I belong here. Don’t let him take me away again.”
The king smiles. “Yes, you’re more a Tranar than others who’ve lived in this country all their lives. You won’t return to Onyx. I’ll see that it is so.” He draws an object from his pocket. Its hilt gleams in the moonlight, the rest covered in leather. He tucks the dagger under my pillow, leans down, and kisses my forehead. “Sleep well.”
In another moment he is gone, on his way to the forest no doubt, to change and hunt dragons in the frosty, mid-night sky. I lie on the bed, my heart twisting and burrowing deeper inside my shaking chest.
The door creaks open and Patience’s shadowy silhouette appears in the doorframe. She approaches my bedside, holding up a yellow candlestick for light. When she sees me, her mouth forms an “O” and she shakes her head sadly. “How are you feeling?”
“Couldn’t be better,” I say with a growly voice.
She sets the candlestick in a holder by the bed and reaches for the water pitcher to pour me a cup. She hands me the cup with aplomb. As I gulp down the water, she sits next to me on the bed, opens her satchel and removes a dry bit of biscuit and a box of herbs. She sprinkles the herbs on the biscuit and hands it to me. “Eat this. It will help settle your stomach.”
I protest—the desire to eat hasn’t yet returned—but Patience gives me a look and I cave and nibble on the biscuit without any further fuss. It tastes of ginger and peppermint.
“You saved my life,” I whisper after the biscuit is gone. “I owe you a debt.”
Patience stares at the ceiling. “You owe me nothing, Elanor.”
“Did Count Malandre explain why I took ill?”
“No,” she lowers her eyes until they meet mine. “Nobody explains anything.”
“I didn’t want to involve you. Not like this.”
Slither Page 25
