“...not taking your role seriously.”
“Why should I?” the prince demanded.
“Because you have to! Why am I having to explain this to you again? It makes us look weak and inept. No one wants to see that in a future ruler. You’re bringing shame to our family and worse, disgrace to your parents’ names.”
“Do not bring them into this,” he said.
“I’ll do whatever I must,” she yelled. “You will take your role seriously, or I’ll see to it you’re stripped of your title and thrown in the stocks.”
He laughed, though it was a cheerless sound. “The stocks? I spend my life in the stocks. What do the stocks mean to a person who spends their life imprisoned?”
Imprisoned? What did he mean by that?
“You’ve got a new caretaker now. Heaven knows how horribly you treated the others. You’re to show her respect.”
“I don’t need a caretaker.”
“You absolutely do. I’ve asked her to help you in your studies as well. You’re to attend your lessons and be respectful.”
“My lessons?” he huffed. “I’m not in nursery school. If you haven’t noticed, I’m about to take the throne.”
“I will not tolerate your disobedience any longer,” the queen seethed. “Attend your lessons and be respectful.”
“And if I don’t?”
“If you don’t,” she hissed, “then I shall remove every comfort you’ve got, including locking you in your room. Since you seem to enjoy spending so much time there, you can stay sealed inside for the next week.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can, Morven. I’m the queen regent, which means I can do whatever I want.”
“Not for long,” he mumbled.
I tiptoed past the room. There was certainly tension between the aunt and her nephew, but did it have anything to do with Rosa’s disappearance or the missing cerecite? I’d have to keep my eyes on those two.
I left the hallway and entered another foyer, recognizing the bronze doors leading to the outside world. To a sense of freedom, if only imagined.
After exiting, I let the warm evening air wash over me, though it tasted a bit metallic.
I paced the portico, but the area was empty except for a few guards milling about. My shoulders sagged. Where were the men with the bagpipes?
“Miss Sabine.” Someone panted behind me. I turned around to see Mrs. O’Connor hustling toward me, her arms laden with a canvas bag full of scrolls. “There you are. I’ve searched everywhere for you. What’re you doing out here?”
“I just stepped outside for some fresh—um, fresh-ish, air.”
“What’re you going on about now? Talking about the air?”
“Oh, nothing.” I waved my hand, hoping she would ignore my comment. “It’s not important.”
“No matter. I’ve come on behalf of the queen regent. She gave these to me hours ago and I’ve only now gotten the time to give them to you. Here, take these scrolls.” She handed the bag to me.
“What are these for?” I hefted the bag.
“The scrolls are for his master, the prince. You’re to instruct him from those. Queen regent’s orders.”
“Instruct him?” I wouldn’t dare tell her what a lousy instructor I’d make, as I knew next to nothing about Ithical. But I had to play along. “When?”
“He’ll be waiting for you in the solarium at four PM sharp. Don’t be late. I doubt he’ll wait long.”
“I understand.” Hesitating, I glanced at the empty portico without moving.
“You’d best be on your way,” Mrs. O’Connor chided. “Start studying those scrolls. Honestly, Miss Sabine. You only just got this job. You wouldn’t want to lose it now, would you?”
“No, of course not, but... would you mind telling me where to find the solarium?”
“It’s just past the throne room and through the hallway to the right. Big domed glass thing. You can’t miss it.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for.” She waved her hand and turned away, mumbling. “Hired me to cook in the kitchens and turned me into a common laborer instead,” she muttered. “Honestly.”
I took one last look at the empty portico where a quiet wind gusted. A few leaves blustered, but the men playing the bagpipes were nowhere to be seen, so I had no choice but to enter the palace. Maybe it didn’t matter. I had a few hours before meeting with the prince, so I’d still get a chance to search the castle.
Hallways stretched, and I lost my way several times as I looked for anything having to do with the three clues—time, light, and world. Frustration built as I searched, and the overwhelming nature of the task weighed on me. How was I supposed to find anything in a place so immense? In one room, I found a broken violin, but it didn’t shift appearance, and my scanner didn’t register it as cerecite, so I continued my search. In another room, I found random objects: a china collection, some silverware, a few vases, and some pottery. But nothing shifted appearance, and nothing glowed under my scanner.
Footsteps echoed from the hallways from time to time. A few palace guards passed me. My pulse quickened every time someone came near. I couldn’t let on I was searching for cerecite, and I was careful to keep my scanner hidden. I still didn’t know what happened to the past agents, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
As afternoon waned, I passed a large grandfather clock in a hallway. I stopped, my heart leaping as the clue time echoed in my memory. But when I scanned it, nothing happened, and my shoulders sagged.
The time read 3:45, so I abandoned my search for now and made my way to the solarium. Maybe some clue would be waiting for me there? I carried the bag of scrolls back the way I came, past the throne room, and to the hallway on the right.
Up ahead, dappled sunlight fell across the floor through a domed roof, revealing the solarium through a glass door on the left.
I opened the door and stepped inside. Sounds of trickling water filled the air. Pots holding trees with dark glossy leaves surrounded me. A narrow, stone-paved trail led through them, and I took the path as it wound around the solarium, past tropical plants with neon orange flowers, and banana trees with bunches of unripe fruit. The scent of greenery lingered in the air.
A wrought-iron table and chairs had been arranged near a glass wall. Morven sat by the window, his jaw clenched and face pensive as he stared outside.
He wore all black, and only now did I get a look at his full form—tall and lanky, all sinewy muscle and frailty. He sat with his hands in his lap, his palms upturned, as if he held something of substance and not of empty air.
He sat in a chair contrasting the others. One with wheels.
A wheelchair.
Is that what he’d meant about being a prisoner?
I approached him. “Prince Morven?”
He turned his gaze to meet mine. I was taken aback by the intensity in his eyes—the sadness and hunger, as if some pent-up demon lived inside him, ready to break free at any moment. Desperate loneliness shone in his eyes. It hit me so suddenly that I stopped walking, as if I felt his pain through that one glance.
I shook off the uneasy feeling, finished crossing the distance between us, and sat in the wrought iron chair across from him. The chair’s cushion didn’t help with the discomfort I felt while in his presence, as if he were a taut violin string waiting to snap.
He frowned. “You’re late.”
“Beg your pardon, I’m early.” I placed the bag of scrolls on the ground beside me, then picked up a random one and placed it on the table.
As I unrolled the scroll, glowing letters appeared.
A map formed beneath the word Ithical Island.
Holding the scroll, I sat straight, as if I’d held something like this plenty of times. I’d studied the map Ivan had shown me, and I’d luckily stored it all in my memory. I could wing it.
“What do you know about the island?” I asked.
He crossed his arms. “You’re
really doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Teaching me,” he said.
“That is what I was hired to do.”
“But was I hired to sit here and listen to this drivel?”
I cleared my throat, deciding to ignore him, and read the text below the map. “‘The main city takes up the majority of the central island, and the outlying villages Harpinsger, Edenbrooke, Grimwillow Grove, and Fablemarch Vale, surround it. The geography varies, as there are mountains in the northwestern portion of the island, lakes at the southern point, and plains to the east. Each of these areas are suited for particular industries. Fablemarch Vale specializes in the fishing industry, the mines lie to the north, where there are ample sources of raw cerecite ore, and the cattle and sheep herds are perfectly suited for the plains of the—'”
Morven placed his hand atop the map, stopping me.
“Sabine, that’s your name, right?”
“I think you should refer to me as Miss Harper.”
He smirked. “That’s ridiculous. I’m nearly twenty-three. I don’t need a primary school teacher.”
“That may be so, but your aunt says your education is lacking, and I’m also your caretaker—”
“I don’t need a caretaker. Nor do I need an instructor.”
“Is that so?” I asked.
“It is.”
I decided to take his challenge. “All right, prove it then. What do you know of the island?”
He kept his hand over the map. “Fine. There are five specialized industries on this god-forsaken rock—ranching, farming, fishing, manufacturing, and mining. Each village was specifically designed for a certain industry, and the capital receives and manufactures from each of those industries. None of this would exist if it weren’t for the cerecite ore, which makes it possible to create the grass for the herds to feed on, the water for the fish to survive. We create wheat and oat seeds directly from green cerecite. Our rails run on yellow cerecite. Our lights burn blue cerecite.
“The mines are indisputably the most vital industry on Ithical Island. Without them, we die, and we’re taking them for granted. We don’t pay the miners enough to feed their families. They’re sick from their contact with yellow cerecite, yet we turn a blind eye and do nothing to help them. There’s a revolution coming, and when it happens, we’ll have no one to blame but ourselves.
“There,” he said with a fake smile. “Happy?”
I didn’t know what to say. “Oh.”
“What else do you have in there?” he said, gesturing to the bag of scrolls.
“Um...” I glanced at the bag. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
“Because I already know it all. What else is a person supposed to do when they’re bedridden except read? I’ve studied the educational scrolls so many times, I can recite them. Every. Single. One.”
“Then why did the queen regent hire me to instruct you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You tell me.”
I swallowed, my stomach fluttering uncomfortably as I sat in his presence. I wasn’t sure what to expect from him, and that bothered me. “I don’t know.”
“She wanted someone to keep an eye on me,” he answered, his tone dark. “To make sure I was doing what she wanted.”
“Which is?”
“Becoming her pawn.” He crossed his arms. “Bending to her will so that when they give me the crown, it means nothing, and she keeps her place as Ithical’s only true ruler.”
“I see.” I glanced at the windows. “I’m assuming that bothers you?”
He shrugged, staring out through the glass, past the wall surrounding the palace to the terra cotta tiled roofs crowding beneath the palace. But his gaze went farther than that. It seemed to go to the sky and peer straight through the shield, to the world outside—to a life beyond the dome.
“What are we studying next?” he asked, his tone flat as he kept his gaze on the window.
He wanted to keep going? I removed the first scroll from the table, placed it aside, and unrolled another. A History of the Royal Lineage was printed in ornate calligraphy across the top.
“The royal family,” I said.
“Hmm.” He pursed his lips.
I narrowed my eyes. “You know it already?”
He nodded.
I leaned forward. “You’re being honest?”
He sighed. “’William Alexander Tremayne was named as the first ruler of Ithical Island after our people survived the shipwreck and came to live on this island in the year of our Lord 1887. He was the first to discover the properties of cerecite and utilize it for our survival. With the aid of a creature some called The Green Dragon, he created the dome that sheltered our people from the harsh Arctic winters, established a system for providing equal hours of day and night, and was the first to find the original seven cerecite orbs—'”
“Wait,” I stopped him. The cerecite orbs? Not only had he quoted the text word-for-word, but the mention of the cerecite piqued my curiosity. “He found the seven orbs?”
“Yes,” he answered with a nod. “They were a big deal back then. But they soon learned the stuff was too volatile. Changed its form so often they couldn’t keep up with it. Even tried locking it up, but it wouldn’t stay put.”
“I see.” I tapped my fingers on the table. Asking him if he knew where the cerecite was now seemed a pointless question. Not only would I arouse his suspicions that I was looking for cerecite, but I doubted he’d know the answer. “Tell me.” I pointed to the scroll, which he’d quoted to me, and I was seriously reconsidering my purpose here. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
“Yes.” He met my gaze again, his eyes burning with passion. “There’s so much I don’t know. Will you help me?”
I hesitated before answering. “Help you with what?”
“Everything.” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne—wild forests and burnt amber—wafting toward me. “There are so many concepts we accept as truth when we’ve never researched a thing. We believe in fairy stories to explain what we don’t understand—magic dragons and myths. I want to know the science. The truth. Will you help me?”
“How do you want me to do that?”
His eyes shifted before he spoke. “Take me to the observatory.”
“The observatory?” I questioned. “Why?”
He clasped his hands atop the table. Tendons made strong from wheeling his chair stood out beneath his pale skin. “It’s the room at the topmost tower of the third tier. No one goes there anymore except for me.”
“What would your aunt say?” I asked.
A half-smile lit his face. “She doesn’t have to know.”
I frowned. “You want me to sneak you up to the observatory?”
He nodded.
Part of me wanted to know what was up there, but what about the consequences? “I can’t do that. If your aunt finds out, I’ll lose my job.”
“Then I’ll pay,” he offered. “Double whatever my aunt’s giving you.”
“I can’t.”
“Triple it.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t even care about money, so stop trying to bribe me. It won’t work.”
“Then what do you care about?”
I pursed my lips before answering. “It’s complicated.”
He eyed me, sizing me up, as if trying to see what motivated me. “I’ll show you what I’ve discovered. There’s more out there than we’ve been told, and I’m going to find it. If you’ve any interest in truth or science, you’ll want to know, too.”
Truth. That was an interesting word to use, as I was searching for seven lies. Wouldn’t taking him up to the observatory be in my best interest? It would at least give me a chance to search for cerecite. “I’ll consider it under one circumstance. How much junk is stored in the observatory?”
His eyebrows rose. “Junk?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Humor me. I like antiques.”
He leaned forward, his eyes dark and wide. “If yo
u take me up to that tower, I’ll give you every piece of junk in this palace.”
I hesitated before answering, fairly sure I was going to regret my decision. But I’d never been one for caution. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to find out what he knew, and what he’d meant about the truth.
“All right,” I said. “We have a deal.”
Chapter 8
Prince Morven’s wheelchair rolled over the marble as I pushed him through the hallway. If anyone asked, I was taking him to study someplace quieter. I wouldn’t mention the place happened to be the observatory.
I quelled my unease by gripping the wheelchair’s wooden handles. Why I’d gone along with him was a mystery. I could only blame my curiosity at Morven’s hint of learning the truth, my nagging suspicions that there was more to this world than I’d been told, and the chance that I’d find a musical something, or any of the cerecite, along the way.
We reached a hall that branched in either direction.
“Left,” he said.
I turned, the long corridor ending at a copper elevator, its gears exposed, with an ornate gate partitioning the front.
“I didn’t realize the palace had elevators,” I said.
“Lifts, you mean?”
“Yes, lifts. Right.” These speech nuances were going to get me in trouble.
He gave me an odd glance but didn’t question me. “There are only a few. They built them years ago, and they try to keep them as inconspicuous as possible. Wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“The commoners. They don’t know I’m like this. If they saw the lifts, they might believe our monarchy to be weak.” He spoke with a high-pitched voice, as if he were quoting something his aunt had said.
I grasped the metal latch and pulled the gate open, then I rolled Morven inside and shut it behind us.
“The top tier,” he said. The gears rotated, pulling us upward through a narrow tube lined in stone. The click-click-click filled the silence. The only light came from a single fixture above us, glowing in the familiar blue.
The 7th Lie Page 7