Embarrassment heated my cheeks. “He wasn’t ogling me,” I hissed through gritted teeth for only him to hear. The idea of Morven suggesting such a thing made me unbearably uncomfortable. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?
“Sure, he wasn’t. Well—” Morven sat straight— “it looks like Mr. MacDougal is swamped with all these flower arrangements he needs to fix before the ball. It’s a shame he couldn’t get them right the first time. Maybe someday my aunt will fire the idiot who makes such reckless mistakes. Oh, wait, she won’t have to.” His voice held an edge of warning. “Because in three days, I will.”
I tightened my hands around the wheelchair’s handles.
“Fire me?” Cade asked, aghast. “You’ve got to be joking. It wasn’t even my fault. Your aunt placed the wrong order.”
“Now you’re blaming someone else?” Morven shook his head. “Something like this had better not happen when I’m king, or I won’t hesitate to send you away.”
“Well, then.” Cade frowned. “I won’t waste any more of your time. I’d best get back to work.”
“Excellent idea.” Morven tapped his fingers on the wheelchair’s armrest. “You should’ve been doing that in the first place.”
Cade flexed his jaw. “Sabine, Prince Morven, good day.” He turned and marched away, back to the flowers he’d left on the table.
Why did it seem every time I made progress with getting Morven to act like a decent human being, he turned into the rude, selfish prince once again?
“You’re an ass,” I hissed through clenched teeth as I pushed Morven to the doors leading out of the room.
“He deserved it.” He clenched his armrests. “He shouldn’t make such careless mistakes. Once I’m king, he’ll be the first to go.”
“Once you’re king, I won’t care, because I’ll be gone too.”
He tilted his head. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing,” I grumbled. “Where are we going now? Back to your room so you can sleep the day away? So you can mysteriously escape the palace tonight while you’re well-rested?”
“Where I go at night is none of your business,” he snapped. “And I don’t want to go back to my room. I hate that place. Take me outside. I need some air.”
“Can you go outside?” I questioned. “What would your aunt say?”
“I don’t care,” he bit out.
“Do you care about anything?” I huffed, anger rising, making my blood turn hot.
“No,” he answered. “Not really.”
Well, at least he was honest. I turned down the hallway.
“You had no right to treat Cade so coldly,” I said. “He’s helping us tonight. With the way you acted, I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides not to.”
“I don’t care. He’s overpaid and arrogant.”
“He’s arrogant? What world do you live in, Morven?”
“Ha.” He laughed to himself. “Good question.”
We made it outside the main doors and to the veranda, then onto a cobbled path. Wheels bumped on the uneven surface. A chill wind smelling of rain rushed past, battering my hair against my cheeks. Goosebumps prickled my skin. The wall loomed before us, and I steered us toward a gate.
“Not that gate,” he said. “Turn right, follow the wall until we reach a wooden door.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Outside the gate.”
“Yes, I got that. But where?”
“You’ll see. Just find the door first.”
I glanced back at the castle, its tall spire reaching up to the sky. As I wheeled him away from the main entrance, we rounded the palace. I didn’t speak to him. In truth, I was too transfixed as I stared up at the enormous structure—its three tiers pyramid-like in their construction.
How did a group of nineteenth-century immigrants manage to build such a thing? And more confusing than that, how had they managed to create a shield that separated them from the rest of the world—complete with weather patterns and everything? It boggled my mind, and so far, I hadn’t been given a good explanation.
Chapter 15
“There.” Morven pointed to a wooden door hidden by ivy in the wall’s shadow. “That’s it. Take me through there.”
I glanced back at the palace before continuing through the castle’s courtyard. When we reached the door leading outside the castle grounds, I lifted the latch. It swung on rusty hinges as the wind gusted it open. After steering Morven’s wheelchair onto a gravel path, we hiked the trail leading toward a dark forest.
Spruces and oaks stood out against soupy gray clouds. The path sloped and curved around a bend. My hands burned as I gripped the handles. When we reached level ground, we made it to the shade of the trees, the branches covered in verdant leaves—all uniformity, no brown spots or decay.
As we continued, creaking came from up ahead, though the thick branches obscured the source of the sound, until we entered a clearing. A wooden swing—like a porch swing—swayed in the wind, taut ropes groaning around the tree branch high above.
“Why’d you want to come here?”
“Because once I’m king, I doubt I’ll get another chance.” He motioned to the chair. “Will you help me into the swing?”
“No.” I stepped in front of him and crossed my arms. “I’m not taking another step until you explain why you acted so rudely to Cade.”
He crossed his arms, mimicking me. “Why do you think?”
I sighed in frustration. “I really don’t understand you sometimes.”
“Good. Then you fit in with the rest of the staff,” he said, eyes dark and piercing.
“Do you want people to hate you?”
His gaze didn’t flinch. “What if I do?”
I stood facing him, my heart racing with the tiniest drop of pity, though he deserved none of it. “I’m taking you back to the palace.” I walked to the chair’s handles and wheeled him around.
“Sabine, no.” His voice held an edge of desperation. “Please, let me stay.” Pleading replaced his scornful tone.
I stopped pushing him. Closing my eyes, I heaved a long sigh. “Fine,” I bit out. “We’ll stay for a minute.”
After wheeling his chair to the swing, I grabbed his arm and helped him sit. I slid beside him, wooden slats beneath me, and used my feet to push off the ground, allowing us to sway gently, the air rushing against our faces.
Something about swinging made a flash of memories burst to life. Dad pushing me on the swings in the park. I’d laughed as he’d pushed me higher and higher. He’d said I could touch the moon. I’d looked at the white orb glowing in the sky on a darkening evening, wondering if I really could swing high enough to reach out and touch it. Dad said I could, so it must be true, I’d thought at the time.
What was he doing now? He was probably riding his tractor through the field, endless amounts of labor that never paid enough to support us. Was he thinking of me?
“Thank you,” Morven said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “For letting me stay.”
I laughed quietly. “You’re welcome. I guess. I’m not sure you deserve it.”
He looked at his hands clasped in his lap. “You’re right,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have acted that way to the gardener.”
“You were awful to him,” I said sharply. “Why would you think it’s okay to treat someone that way?”
“If you really want to know, I’m jealous of him.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “He can dance with you. I can’t.”
Surprise struck me, though I should’ve expected as much. “You would want to dance with me?”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “Do you have to ask?”
I studied him. He made no sense at all. “I...”
“Would you dance with me if I asked you?”
Not sure how to answer, I dug my toes into the dirt. “Does it matter what I want? If the crowned prince asked me to dance, I’d do it because it was expected. Not because I wanted to. Otherwise, I’d ris
k losing my job.”
He only nodded, studying his hands. “And if I wasn’t the crowned prince?”
“Maybe. If you acted the way you do when we’re alone.”
“That’s a lie. I’m never nice to anyone. I only do things for myself. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out by now.” He focused straight ahead, revealing the ridge of his forehead, the straight line of his nose, and his full lips, pinched with worry, and perhaps regret.
“Why do you act like that, Morven?” I asked softly. “Are you hiding from something? Are you trying to protect yourself?”
He shrugged. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t. It’s just curiosity.”
He sighed. The ropes creaked rhythmically.
“You said you’re leaving after I become king. Where are you going?” he asked.
“Back home, hopefully. My family needs me. My da doesn’t make a lot of money with his... fishing.” I’d almost slipped and said farming. “He works a lot. I don’t see him much.” The wind carried my sigh. “I just lost my grandma, and I know it’s hard for him without her. She did a lot for our family...”
I tried to swallow that great lump in my throat, the way I always felt whenever I thought about losing Mima—which was why I tried never to think about it.
“I understand,” Morven said, his voice distant. “My parents are gone too. All I have now is my aunt, and you know what she’s like.”
“Yeah.”
“She’ll be looking for us soon,” he said.
“Okay.” But I didn’t move from my spot on the swing. I hadn’t told anyone about my family since I’d gotten here. Talking about them now lifted a weight from my shoulders. It was the one thing I truly cared about, and I didn’t want to go back to the place where I’d have to pretend they didn’t exist. Maybe I’d told Morven too much, but talking to him came easily, and I needed someone to talk to—I needed a friend. But had I made a mistake in telling him?
Someone in the castle was responsible for Agent Rodriguez’s disappearance. How did I know he wasn’t involved? Except he would’ve been a kid at the time.
A bird’s call came from the forest. I glanced up, spotting shimmering blue-green feathers. A falcon dove from overhead, skimmed the forest floor, then soared back up.
“Mystik falcon,” Morven said. “I wondered if we’d see her.”
I gave him a curious glance. “Her? You know that bird?”
He nodded. “She visits me sometimes when I come out here. Likes to bring me rats or snakes.”
I bit my lip. “Lovely.”
Morven held out his leather-clad arm, and the bird landed on it. I sat transfixed as she fluttered her wings. Pale turquoise light shimmered from her feathers. Though I’d seen Ivan’s wolf in the tundra, I had trouble accepting what I saw wasn’t some sort of technological trick.
“Can I pet her?” I asked.
“Yes. Just here.” He smoothed the feathers along her neck, and I did the same. They held the same softness of Ivan’s wolf.
“Our people like to think the Mystik creatures come from the souls of the reborn, but I see them as something else,” Morven said.
“What do you see?” I asked.
“I see the byproduct of cerecite—a meld of chemistry and biology. The building blocks of all life.”
I tilted my head. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean there’s nothing else like cerecite on Earth,” he explained. “It’s been frozen at the top of the world and never studied by science. No one can say how our ancestors took the leap from chemicals in a lakebed to living creatures, but that’s because they never studied cerecite. One day, I hope to convince our people to believe in more than myths—to study the truth around us instead. Cerecite is the link between living and non-living.”
“Do you really think so?” I asked, his theory piquing my curiosity.
The falcon ruffled her feathers, then started preening, just like an ordinary bird.
“Yes, and I wish our people would study it, would care more about knowledge and break free from the mundane, but that will only happen if something drastic changes their minds.”
Drastic like what? I wanted to ask, but the bird flapped her wings, then screeched before leaping off Morven’s arm. She circled upward until she soared over the treetops and disappeared.
“We should go.” Morven moved to stand. I rushed to grab his arm, but he made it to his chair without my help.
“You did it by yourself,” I said. “That’s progress.”
“Yes.” He sat up straight, his gaze roving over the rustling tree limbs. “I think I’m getting stronger.”
“You do?”
“I think so, but I always feel stronger when I’m away from the palace.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to go back?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I, for one, would like to get this ball over with.”
“I agree.” I didn’t find it necessary to tell him why.
Chapter 16
Violin strings carried a harmonized melody through the ballroom as the orchestra warmed up. Goosebumps prickled my arms covered in sheer sleeves as the chilly air came from the enormous chamber. I stood in a shadowed hallway, watching as servants bustled around tables, arranged chairs, and straightened stalks of red tulips. The queen regent clasped a scroll as she paced on the dais, overlooking them with drawn lips and narrowed eyes.
This had better be perfect, I imagined her saying.
I tried inhaling, but the tight bodice compressed my lungs. Standing straight helped a little. I ran my hands over the silk. I’d gotten accustomed to functional clothing: the stiff bleached cotton of my Vortech uniform, the supple leather of my bomber jacket, and the threaded wool of my palace uniform. The shimmering beads felt foreign. I picked at the crystals, as if I wore something that didn’t belong on me.
Beyond the shadows of the hallway, the queen stepped off the dais.
“One minute,” she shouted. The harsh timbre of her voice carried through the domed chamber. Anxiety quickened my pulse.
When Vortech had recruited me to go on a mission to a remote island north of Russia, I’d been expecting wilderness survival and frostbite. I preferred that to this. Dancing? Interacting with actual people? Clearly Vortech had pegged me for someone I wasn’t.
But I had to get the next objects. I’d spent nearly two weeks looking through the palace. If the next objects weren’t in the tower, I didn’t know where else they could be.
I pressed my hand to the wall—rough, unyielding cinder blocks.
A man approached the queen regent, his embroidered green robes moving fluidly as he walked. The chandelier’s light made his bald head glisten. He spoke quietly to her, his words drowned out by the violins.
She nodded, then clapped her hands twice. The doors on the far side swung open. A line of people entered. Heavy fabric draped the women who treaded through the room beside men wearing fitted black suits and tall boots. They stopped at the edge of the ballroom.
The man on the dais unrolled a scroll and announced the names of the noble houses. A blonde woman with a stacked bun strode forward. Behind her, the other nobles paced inside. The women’s dresses matched, with lacy collars and puffy sleeves, only varying in color. They all wore their hair up with copious amounts of jewels and combs.
I brushed my fingers through my long strands. My hair fell down my back in a dark wave without so much as a barrette to decorate it. But I’d brushed it until it shone, and it wasn’t in its usual messy ponytail.
Baby steps.
When the nobles began eating, I glanced behind me. Where was Morven?
Laughter and soft voices drifted from the dining hall. Floral scents of women’s perfume combined with the succulent aroma of the food. Waiting was killing me. Where was he?
Rolling wheels caught my attention. I turned around. A male servant pushed Morven through the dark corridor.
Finally.
Only a little light
seeped into the hallway. In the bluish glow of the lamps, Morven neared me.
“Stop here,” Morven said to the man. “Then leave me.”
The servant nodded and marched back the way he’d come.
Morven grasped the wheels. His broad shoulders flexed under a black suit fitted to his lean, corded muscles. A silver dragon-shaped brooch held his plaid in place, which he wore over his shoulder. His hair had been combed, though a small clump fell across his forehead. I clasped my hands, quelling the compulsion to smooth it back.
My heart fluttered at the sight of him. When Morven’s eyes met mine, my breath caught in my throat. The now familiar scent of his cologne washed over me, conjuring images of wild forests and the heady scent of spruce.
He stopped beside me, his eyes fixed on me as he cocked his head. “Sabine?”
“Yes?” I answered, my voice pitched too high.
He laughed quietly. “I wasn’t sure it was you. You look different.”
“Different?” I questioned.
“Yes,” he said, smiling, and I couldn’t ignore the dark glitter to his eyes. “In a good way.”
The deep tone of his voice made a warm shiver course from the top of my head straight to the tips of my toes.
I pressed my hands to my stomach, my insides on fire.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine.” Just a little breathless. “The nobles are eating. We should hurry.” I hoped he didn’t hear the quiver in my voice. “Are you ready to walk to the table?”
His eyes were set with determination. “Yes.”
“Don’t worry.” I rested my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be right by you.”
“Good.” He sat tall. “Don’t help me unless it looks like I’ll fall.”
“You’re sure?” I asked, butterflies dancing in my stomach at being so near him.
He nodded, and I took a step back. He locked his jaw as he pushed off from the seat. He wobbled, but he managed to gain his balance. I walked beside him out of the shadow of the hallway.
The 7th Lie Page 14