Fated To Die: YA dark retelling (The Retelling Series Book 1)

by TARA GALLINA

  “What did you do that was so terrible?”

  I can’t tell him. We were not only deceiving the Council but the curse, as well. Who knows how Daceian will react, or the cottage? He may not even know villagers used to do it to keep their daughters safe until the Council ruled against it decades ago. The severe punishment for the offence stopped families from any attempt.

  Father was irrational to arrange such a thing, and I was so desperate to appease him, I agreed. At least I know Espen didn’t tell on us as he promised. If he had, Father and the twins wouldn’t have been at home. They’d never be home again.

  “Your reluctance to tell me leaves me to believe it was awful, too awful for someone like you. Now I must know. I fear I won’t sleep until I do.” His desperate tone surprises me as much as it delights me.

  It’s another side of him I didn’t know existed and it gives me an idea. “If you tell me why I can’t look at you, I’ll tell you what I did.”

  “Ahh,” he says with an amused sigh. “So, this is how you work. A secret for a secret. How enticing. No wonder the cottage didn’t refuse you. I’ll agree to your trade if you agree to go first.”

  “Absolutely not.” I frown. “If I go first, what assurance do I have that you’ll keep your word? You could change your mind and tell me nothing.”

  “True. I could, but if you trust me, you’ll know I won’t.” He moves close behind me, his presence warming my back. His breath touches my ear. “Can you trust me?”

  Tingles run through me, and my lips part with an exhale. Is he teasing me like this on purpose? Should I care? Before him, no boy had this effect on me. I was beginning to think it wasn’t possible, that I’m broken. To know I’m not, is as wonderful as it is hopeless. How like me to be tempted by the boy who could be my demise, even if not by his choice.

  He wants me to trust him. He thinks I don’t. Maybe, he’s right. I inhale a breath of courage and choose my words carefully. “I allowed my family to believe I mated with a boy in the village, so they wouldn’t worry about losing me to the curse.”

  Silence. He stays behind me but must straighten away because his heat on my back lessens.

  Knots twist and tie in my stomach. Confessing was a mistake.

  “How did you lead them to believe this?” He asks, his voice filled with tension.

  “Does it matter how? I didn’t do anything, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “It was a lie?”

  “In a way. Yes.”

  “And the boy? Does he exist?”

  I turn my head to the side, resisting the urge to glance at him. “Are you jealous?” The idea sends a thrill through me.

  “I … I want you to answer the question and turn your head forward.”

  I can’t keep from smiling, even as I obey. “The boy is no one, a random name from the village.”

  “That’s good,” he murmurs as if to himself.

  “Now you go.”

  “Very well,” he says with ease. “I am forbidden to allow others to look at me.”

  “Why are you forbidden?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “A deal is a deal, Daceian. I told you my secret now you have to tell me yours.”

  He touches my hair and slides his fingers to the end. “Not yet.” Sorrow lingers his voice.

  I want to be understanding, but I want my answer, too. “You promised.”

  “I didn’t promise, but I will promise you this. If you find what we need in the book and there’s a way for us to end the curse, I will let you look at me.”

  I’m about to risk stomping away blindly when his words give me pause. “You’ll let me look at you because it’s within your control? If you decide I can see you, then I can?”

  “Yes.”

  My thoughts spin with this knowledge. He’s in control. He decides; therefore, he would be the one to punish me. I trust him enough to know he wouldn’t hurt me. Knowing I could break the rule and have only him to deal with is beyond tempting. I could accidentally glimpse him. Once it’s done, it’s done. You can’t take that back. I’ll know what he looks like, but how will I react? If his face startles me in a way I’m not prepared for, I could respond in a way that hurts his feelings. I don’t want that.

  Something solid nudges my arm.

  “You should read,” Daceian says.

  I take the cool, hard object that can only be the book. “Can you guide me to the chair by the fireplace?” It’s much comfier than the wooden chair at the table.

  I feel him bend to my ear. “I’ll do you one better and leave so you can roam freely.”

  As much as I hate keeping my eyes closed when he’s here, I’m not ready for him to leave. “Don’t go.”

  “You want me to stay?”

  “Yes.” Without opening my eyes, I turn around. “Please.” Even though I can’t see him, I can feel his gaze on my face.

  “Very well.” There’s no enthusiasm to his tone. He guides me to the chair.

  I lower onto the plush cushion and rest the book on my lap. “If I bore you too much you don’t have to stay.” Hurt builds inside me like a dark storm. This is what comes with sharing feelings. “I only offered because I thought I could scan the book and tell you what I see in case anything stands out. But if you have something more important to do, don’t let me keep you.”

  I raise my guard, shielding my emotions from further hurt. Daceian affects me far greater than anyone has before. I can’t form an attachment to him. Nothing good can come from it. There is no future for us. There may be no future for me at all if I don’t find a way to break the curse.

  That needs to be my focus, not my hurt feelings or my curiosity to see Daceian’s face. What does it matter anyway? I straighten my spine, my resolve strengthening. His appearance is irrelevant. I don’t even care anymore. The desire to see him is gone, completely faded—or it will be soon.

  “Tell yourself what you want,” he says as if he knows my thoughts. “Do your best to shut yourself off and act like you don’t care, but I know you do.” A note of smugness lingers in his tone.

  He strolls around the room as if tempting me to look at him.

  I keep my head down and pretend to be uninterested, even though I’m aware of his every move.

  He shuffles closer.

  Insufferable male. Must he tease me so?

  My teeth grind together as I struggle to keep my attention on the book. At one point, I resort to using my finger to scan the words on the page, anything to keep from sneaking a peek at him.

  “This is new between us,” he grumbles.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” I feign ignorance. Two can play at this game.

  “There’s tension between us,” he goes on. “I’ve never experienced it before. I like it, but I also don’t like it, if that makes sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense.”

  He stops pacing. “So you do know what I mean?” Pride rings in his voice, like victory for calling my bluff.

  I lower my head more to hide my smile, unwilling to admit this might be a little—a lot—fun.

  “How does it make sense?” he asks with such sincerity I’m reminded of his innocence toward things like this.

  Not that I’m experienced in any way, but I’ve seen how boys and girls act when they’re interested in each other but aren’t yet courting. “It’s what people do when they like each other. They tease, flirt, and bicker. It’s a sweet kind of torture, and normal.”

  “But I’ve liked other maidens, and I never acted this way with them.”

  I stiffen, and my finger halts on the page. He liked other maidens? Jealousy claws at my chest. This feeling is not fun at all. Uncertain if I want the answer to this, I still force myself to ask, “Did you like any of them the way you like me?”

  He draws in a loud breath the way I’ve learned he does when he’s thinking.

  With each second that passes, I fear the worst. Is he making a list? How many were there?

  Fina
lly, he says, “Not at all, not even close.”

  I release the breath trapped in my throat, and then laugh at myself for my insane reaction.

  “You are pleased with my answer,” he says that note of smugness back in his voice.

  Oh, goodness. If I could, I’d roll my eyes. Instead, I shake my head and flip through a few pages. A picture catches my gaze. I turn back to it and gasp. “I don’t believe it.”

  “What?” Daceian moves closer.

  “It’s my mother’s brooch.” My brooch. Why?

  CHAPTER 12

  Silence falls over the room as if time itself has stopped. The picture is near identical to the piece of jewelry in my pocket, only it’s of a real butterfly. Teal and green colors paint its wings.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Daceian says, his urgency charging the air.

  Keeping my gaze down, I turn the book so he can see the page. Then I remove the butterfly brooch from my pocket and hold it out on the palm of my hand. “Look. They’re the same.”

  He hesitates to move closer, even though I know he wants to.

  Now, he’s timid after all his prancing around and taunting me? Boys.

  I close my eyes. “I promise I won’t peek, but you have to come see this.”

  His footsteps draw near.

  I lift my hand higher. “Take it.”

  His fingers brush my palm as he removes the brooch.

  “This was your mother’s, and now it’s yours, and you just handed it to me?” he asks with clear shock.

  My nerves thrum. “Yes. Why? Does it mean something?”

  “If the riddle I know is accurate, it means you are indeed The One.”

  “The One?” My voice quivers. Being singled out is never good. Mother was The One in the village with different colored eyes until I was born. When she died, I took her place, also becoming The One everyone feared and detested. Queen Alys is The One who abolished the monarchy, and Princess Bretta is The One who doomed us all.

  “What does the book say about the butterfly?” Daceian asks.

  “I don’t know. My eyes are still closed.”

  “Open them and read it out loud to me.”

  Pushing aside my fear, I read the paragraph under the butterfly picture.

  “‘The Dalán-dé Spirit opens the chrysalises of trapped butterflies, setting them free to explore the world as they were meant to be.’ What’s a Dalán-dé?”

  “It means butterfly.”

  “Is that what this is?” I tap the picture. “The butterfly has a white body. Usually, they’re black, but this one is almost transparent.”

  “The pages are blank to me. I need you to tell me if there’s more. Look for a riddle,” he urges as if he’s about to explode.

  I scan the page to the bottom, finding nothing, and move onto the next. At the top, I find what appears to be a poem. I read it aloud.

  “‘The maiden with eyes of the grass and sky will break the curse before she dies. Her Dalán-dé Spirit will set us free, when she presents it to her mate to be. Together, they’ll unlock the secrets of the past, defeat the darkness in the House, and slay the Hag at last.’”

  I lift my head to peer at Daceian then catch myself and force my gaze down. “What does it mean? Is the Hag referring to your mother?”

  “Yes,” he breathes.

  “And slay means ... kill?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maiden with eyes of grass and sky, that has to mean me or my mother,” I think out loud.

  “Is that why she was Fated to Die?” Daceian murmurs so low I almost miss it.

  “M-my mother?” Again, I have to force myself not to look up and connect with him in the way I need to right now. The way I’m denied. Infuriating rule.

  “She knows the riddle,” he murmurs again as if speaking to himself. “Did she choose her? I don’t see how she could have, but I don’t believe for one instant her death was a coincidence.”

  My throat feels thick when I try to swallow. I squeeze the arms of the chair to keep from grabbing his thighs and shaking him until he answers me. “Whose death? Please, Daceian, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. Do you mean my mother’s death? Is that who you’re talking about?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I do the only thing I can and swat his thigh.

  He steps back. “You hit me?”

  “Barely. You weren’t listening and I need your attention. It’s not like I hurt you.”

  Laughter rumbles from him, so potent and real it’s like he broke free from his shell. “Of course, you didn’t hurt me. You surprised me, though. The last time a girl touched my leg, she was clinging to it, begging me to free her.”

  “They do that?” I never imagined, but then it’s not something I would do.

  He releases a sad sigh. “It was only one girl. She had broken a major rule, the major rule. She looked at my mother. It happened on the last day. I wished there was a way to conceal her mistake, but she was at the river’s edge where the curse is the strongest. Even if my mother hadn’t caught her doing it, the lightning that struck the rocks would have let her know.”

  I shiver. “She must have been terrified.”

  “She looked to me to save her.” His words become slow and distant. “Her horrified eyes locked on mine, and she crawled to me, begging for mercy. ‘It’s not mine to give,’ I told her. I apologized for not being able to help her, but she didn’t believe me. Mud covered her hands, arms, and knees as she crawled closer and latched onto my leg. ‘Please, please, please,’ she said over and over again, until....”

  “Until what?” I blurt, gripping the book tight on my lap. “What happened?”

  “I can’t tell you.” Sadness pours from his voice. “I’m bound not to.”

  “Bound? Like bespelled? By who? The Hag? Your mother?”

  “I shouldn’t be saying any of this. I never have before. It’s too easy for me to talk to you, but I shouldn’t. It isn’t right, nor will it help you stay strong. I need to be more careful. I will be. I swear it.”

  “No.” I clutch his pant leg when he turns to step away. “I want you to talk to me. You should be able to. It’s only fair. That’s what friends do. They help each other, and you are my friend. Despite the situation and what you’ve been forced to do, you are my friend, Daceian. I’m not ashamed to admit I care about you.”

  I bet his whole life he’s had no one to talk to. At least I had my mother for a time, and my father and sisters. He’s had only his mother, a creature, and sniveling maidens begging him for help he can’t give, making him feel worse than he already does.

  “Tell me whatever you want, whenever you want,” I say. “I won’t judge. I’ll only listen. I promise, on my honor.” With my eyes closed, I stand and bow the way I would to royalty, if the monarchy still existed, so Daceian knows I’m serious.

  “You know the traditional bow?” he asks with surprise.

  “My mother showed me when I was younger.”

  He steps to me, his presence and heat welcoming.

  I imagine he’s staring down at me and breathe in his delicious scent.

  “You cannot know what your words mean to me, especially now that we are to be wed.”

  Wed? The word must mean something else to him. He can’t be talking about marriage. “I’m … I don’t understand.”

  “Look down,” he instructs.

  I do.

  His hand hangs down by his side, the butterfly brooch resting on his palm. “‘Her butterfly spirit will set us free, when she presents it to her mate to be.’ This is your butterfly spirit. You are the girl, and you presented it to me.”

  The jewels on the brooch sparkle as if to confirm his words. I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I can’t even begin to wrap my head around this.

  “We are to marry?” The outcast Messenger and the son of the Washer Woman. My gaze shifts from the brooch to his tan skin. “I don’t even know what you look like.”

  “Would i
t matter?” he asks with a slight tremble of his hand. “Would your feelings for me change after you’ve looked upon my face? You said before it wouldn’t.”

  “I know what I said,” I snap out of frustration. “Sorry. I just … I need a minute to process this.”

  I am to marry the son of the Washer Woman. The Keeper of the Messengers. One half of the cursed and Hag. Could I do that?

  For someone I’ve yet to look upon, I’ve never felt closer to another individual that wasn’t family. We get along fine, better than fine given the circumstances. Our personalities seem to complement each other, which would make us a suitable match in the eyes of the Council if we were asking for permission to wed. Attraction is a bonus in these arrangements, not a requirement. In terms of happiness, it wouldn’t matter. While handsome, Father wasn’t nearly as fetching as my beautiful mother. Yet she loved him as if he were the most exquisite flower in all the gardens.

  “No, it wouldn’t matter,” I say with certainty, knowing deep down that would have always been my answer.

  Daceian releases a slow breath, seeming relieved.

  While flattered by his reaction, I’m confused by it, as well. “I don’t see how our union will help anything. It takes months to plan a wedding, and the last thing I feel like doing is celebrating. Today is a new day, which means a new victim could be chosen, and I will be the bearer of death for him or her.” My stomach sours.

  “That is true.” He moves behind me and runs gentle fingers through my hair in a soothing way. “But so is the rest of the riddle. ‘Together they’ll unlock the secrets of the past, defeat the darkness in the House, and slay the Hag at last.’”

  The back of my neck chills. “How can you speak of your mother’s death so calmly?”

  “It must be done.” Remorse touches his voice. “It’s the only way to break the curse and free us all.”

  “And who is to do the slaying?” I quiver. “You?”

  He takes a few steps away. “I don’t know. The answer lies in the rest of the riddle. We must find it first.”

  “There’s more? Is it in the book?”