The Deceiver's Heart

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  At first, I thought it was a convenient excuse to hold my hand, but when we started down the hill, it was indeed steep enough that I accepted his offer. He led me to the base, then set the first bucket beneath the pump and began to draw up water.

  I said, “Two days ago, I told you that I love Basil.”

  He stopped pumping and pressed his brows low in earnest. “Do you?”

  “No. Before you took me from the Lonetree Camp, I told him that I wouldn’t marry him.”

  “What changed?”

  “Nothing. I just didn’t want to pretend anymore with him.”

  He studied me a moment, then said, “Maybe you’ve had to pretend, to protect yourself. Or perhaps you think that you’re protecting me.”

  A flutter swirled in my belly. “I don’t remember you, Simon. All these moments you describe of us, feelings … they’re in your head, not mine.”

  “I’ve only told you the truth.”

  “I don’t have any truth. And without it, I have no trust.”

  He stepped closer and my breath locked in my throat. “Can you trust me?”

  I hesitated, my mouth suddenly dry and with a dull pinch in my heart. I desperately wanted to answer his question the way he wanted to hear it, but I couldn’t.

  Simon added, “Talk to me, please.”

  That was impossible—why couldn’t he understand that? “You are working against Lord Endrick. I am sworn to obey his orders.”

  “Since when?”

  “For as far back as I can—” I hesitated.

  “As far as you can remember? You do not have to obey him.” He glanced down to see me fingering the necklace. I hadn’t realized I was until he gestured at it. “What is that, really? What is it doing to you?”

  I shook my head, releasing the necklace. Whatever it was, I knew one thing for certain. “I do have to obey him, Simon. I do.”

  Kestra allowed me to be close to her, until the instant I reached for her necklace. Then she backed off, the expression in her eyes reminding me of a cornered animal.

  “Let me see it more closely. I promise to return it.” I put my arms around her neck and fingered the clasp, but the second I did, she pushed me away, her breaths becoming shallow and harsh.

  “No, Simon.”

  “You don’t want to remove the necklace, or he won’t allow it? Which is it?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I have to keep it on.”

  “Or else what happens?”

  Tears filled her eyes, but she shook her head. I kept my distance and finally she said, “If I ever knew the answer, it’s gone now.”

  “But there are some memories returning to you, correct?”

  “Even if there were, I wouldn’t trust them.” She looked away from me, deliberately. “Some of what’s in my head isn’t real, and I can’t always tell the difference.”

  “False memories?”

  “Maybe.”

  Taking a step toward her, I suggested, “What if you let everything go but this single moment? What’s happening now is real. Can that be enough for now? Ignore everything else and start over.”

  A shy smile tugged at her mouth. “With you?”

  I stepped toward her again and bowed low. “Good afternoon, my lady. My name is Simon Hatch.”

  Her smile widened, and she gave a polite curtsy. “I’m Kestra.”

  “No last name?”

  She considered that. “No.”

  She offered me her hand. I brought it to my lips and kissed it, watching her the entire time. Afterward, I didn’t release her hand, and she didn’t pull away.

  Instead, she was watching me intently, as if trying to burrow into my thoughts, and I was more than willing to let her. She asked, “Are you trying to repeat an old memory with me, hoping it will spark something?”

  I took another step toward her. “I’m trying to make a new memory with you. And yes, I definitely hope it will spark something.”

  I watched the smile dance in her eyes while she bit her lip and considered my unspoken suggestion. I pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, then let my hand linger there. But the instant my fingers began to curl around her neck, that smile turned to a sort of worry, a raising of a shield around herself exactly as the old Kestra would have done. At least that much about her was consistent.

  She stepped back and brushed at her skirts, an obvious distraction since they weren’t dirty. “Tillie will be worried about us. We should bring the water.”

  Reluctantly, I returned to filling the buckets. Then Kestra insisted on taking one so that I could hold her hand as we climbed the hill. In the end, she climbed ahead of me anyway, so fast that I wondered if she might run once we reached flat ground. I could’ve kicked myself for making her nervous. I’d ruined a moment I might not get back again.

  Tillie had the bread in the oven when we returned, and she followed us outside to gather some vegetables from her garden for supper.

  “No sign of Gabe?” I asked her.

  “Nothing yet. Let’s hope that means his hunt is successful.” Tillie smiled as she spoke, but that was only for Kestra’s sake. I knew she was as worried about Gabe as I was.

  Kestra tilted her head while listening to us, and I wondered if she suspected the real reason Gabe was out there. If she did, she remained quiet, and simply continued gardening.

  I worked beside them for nearly an hour before we went in to finish preparing supper. When it was ready, Tillie sat on one side of the table, and Kestra and I were seated beside each other.

  “My husband, rest his sweet heart, was always at my side, just as you two now sit.” Tillie’s smile faded. “He died, many years ago, a soldier in the War of Devastation.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Kestra said. “Whose side—”

  “Not the Dallisors,” I said.

  “Oh … of course.”

  Tillie handed Kestra the bread, still warm from the oven. “There are many of us who remember Antora as it was, before the war. This was never a country that enjoyed a long peace. Either the Dallisors were fighting the Halderians, or the Halderians were fighting the Dallisors. My family is neither, so we managed to stay out of it, until Lord Endrick united with the Dallisors. Then we knew it was time to fight. And we will continue fighting against him until his reign has ended.”

  Kestra lowered her eyes but said nothing.

  It should have been a clue for Tillie, but she continued, “What about you, my dear?”

  Her head shot up, a fire in her eyes and a ring of alarm in her voice. “Don’t call me that … ‘my dear.’”

  Tillie shrank back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I …”

  I noticed a trembling of Kestra’s hands. “Kes?”

  Confusion darkened her expression when she looked at me, as if her mind had wandered elsewhere. She saw my concern and took a slow breath. When she spoke again, her tone had softened. “It’s all right. You didn’t mean anything by it. I think …” Her fingers brushed against her necklace, then she hastily lowered them. “What was your question?”

  Tillie cleared her throat and spoke more cautiously. “I wanted to ask if you intend to fight against Lord Endrick. Considering what you did to Simon, you’d be a valuable asset to the rebellion.”

  If Kestra had been upset before, this was worse. Tillie had meant well, but Kestra’s eyes were darting around in every direction. I figured if a gaping hole opened in the floor, she’d gladly dive through it to escape.

  I quickly changed the subject. “After supper, maybe Kestra can help you clean up and I’ll chop wood for a fire.”

  “That would be lovely.” Tillie smiled at Kestra. “You are such a beautiful girl. I wish I could look into your eyes and see happiness there.”

  “That’s a nice thought, but—”

  Now Tillie nodded at me. “You may not realize this, but Simon is a gifted artist. He’s made drawings of you before. In those drawings, your eyes are alive and filled with passion and joy. Perhaps he could show them to you someday.”

  �
�I’ve seen them.” Kestra quickly glanced at me before turning back to her supper. “But he got the eyes wrong. That’s not me, not anymore.”

  I held her words in my heart for the rest of the meal and noticed she kept her gaze lowered after that. I wasn’t sure if she was avoiding me or trying to avoid her own mind. Either way, she was locking up the few thoughts she still trusted and hiding them far from anyone else’s reach.

  When I came in from chopping the wood, Tillie was in a chair, knitting, and Kestra was seated on the fur rug in the center of the room, pretending to read a book. Obviously pretending, because I built an entire fire and she never turned the page once and her eyes were constantly on me.

  When I finished, I sat across from her, giving her room to think, to work through whatever was occupying her mind. Occasionally I put on another log or two, keeping the room comfortably warm.

  At one point when I got up, I noticed Tillie’s chair was empty. She must have slipped off to bed without saying anything. Now it was only Kes and I. Did Kes know we were alone? She was sitting near the fireplace, staring at the flames, as she had been doing steadily for the past couple of hours.

  I sat beside her, our hands almost touching. I wondered if she would slide hers any closer, but she didn’t. Maybe she was too lost in her thoughts to know I was here. Several minutes passed before she spoke.

  “I’ve been thinking …” She went silent, then tried again. “No, I know you’re right, that Lord Endrick did something to my memories. There are too many gaps, too many inconsistencies.”

  I didn’t say anything, not yet. She had to work through this on her own.

  Several minutes passed before she spoke again. When she finally did, her voice was quieter than before. “I think I’m an Ironheart. Do you know what that means?”

  I did know, and it terrified me. “There must be a solution.”

  “What is it?” When I didn’t answer, her eyes narrowed. “You cannot wish a solution into existence.”

  I hesitated, meaning she knew my answer long before it fell from my mouth. “No.” I quickly added, “But I won’t give up until I find a way.”

  “Then you’ll never give up, and never succeed.” Sadness dimmed the light in her eyes. “Endrick won’t surrender control over me. We both know that.”

  No, he wouldn’t.

  After a long, heavy minute, she said, “Why did he do this to me, Simon? I’m nobody.”

  “Nothing could be more false. If only you knew …”

  Our eyes met and my breath quickened. For nearly the first time since our reunion, there was heat in her expression, a beckoning that burned deep within me. This was the real Kes.

  Then she looked down again and the moment passed. “Am I an enemy to him?”

  “He would say you are, yes.”

  “Then why didn’t he kill me?”

  “Because it’s safer to have taken your memories than to have taken your life.”

  “Safer … for him?” She drew in a breath, answering her own question. “If I die, someone takes my place.”

  “Yes.”

  It took her time to absorb that, but she was so close to the truth, I had to wait. I had to let her find it for herself. Finally, she said, “Only one person could ever be a true enemy to him, because only one person could ever truly harm him.”

  My heart drummed against my chest. Kestra knew. She didn’t want to say it, but she knew.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’ve heard the whispers around me, people who speak when they think I’m not listening. Back at the Corack camp, and here between you and Tillie and Gabe, the same word over and over. It can’t be a coincidence. They’re speaking about me, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  She swallowed hard. “I’m the Infidante.”

  Silence fell between us until she locked eyes with me, demanding an answer. “You are,” I whispered.

  Her reaction to that was so calm, I wondered if she might not have understood what that role required of her.

  Until she said, “I will not do it.”

  My brows pressed together. That was the last thing I’d expected. “No one else can do it, Kes.”

  “I almost killed you, Simon, and the pain of it, the guilt, nearly drove me to madness. What if I succeed in killing Endrick? I’ll become as evil as he is now.”

  “If you succeed, you will end his evil for good.”

  “At what price?” Her voice rose in pitch. “It is not fair to ask such a thing of me.”

  “No, it’s not. But if you refuse this, then Antora is lost!”

  “I must have tried it already and failed. That’s why he took my memories, why I’m wearing this necklace. If he took a piece of my heart, then he’ll use it to make me do something he wants. Maybe he already has and I don’t even know it!”

  My heart crashed against my chest. “Since leaving Woodcourt, has he given you any orders?”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she shrugged, whispering, “I genuinely don’t know.” Then she sucked in a quick breath and her expression darkened. “I’ve got to leave. I will not be part of this any longer!”

  Before I could reply, she was on her feet and rushing out the door. Still aching from the effects of the poison and a hard day of work, I was slower to follow. By the time I stumbled outside, she was running away.

  She was easy to spot in the moonlight, and so although I was walking slower than she was, I knew exactly where she was going. She was headed toward a narrow gap inside a nearby slot.

  I understood why she had chosen that path—she thought she could lose me there, but she was wrong. The slot would close up before she went much farther. There was nowhere for her to go.

  I could follow her in, and I would, but she couldn’t be my prisoner any longer. The only way I’d ever get her back to Rutherhouse was if she chose to come. And as upset as she was, I had no idea if that was possible. This might be my last chance to truly reach her.

  I’d hoped Simon wouldn’t see me, but he obviously had. He was still weak, and I had a good lead. If I hurried, I might escape the slot before he caught up to me.

  I laughed bitterly to myself. Escape what? I’d never outrun my own mind, my fickle thoughts. I’d never outrun the memories that were seeping back into my life.

  Darrow. My father.

  My mother dancing with me in the gardens of Woodcourt.

  No, she had been my adoptive mother, though I still had no idea who my actual mother was.

  The depth of Lord Endrick’s evil—I only carried fractions of his crimes in my head now, and they horrified me. Surely he had done far worse than what little I remembered. How could I ever have knelt to such a man?

  And with all of that, the question: Were any of these memories real?

  A minute later, the slot that was supposed to have offered me an escape ended in straight walls with a few scattered vines crawling up the spine. I’d gone as far as I could here.

  Maybe I’d gone as far as I would in every sense. That was obvious by now.

  “Come back with me, Kes.” I turned with a start. I hadn’t realized Simon was already here, only steps behind me. “I meant what I said before, that we will find a way to fix everything.”

  “You can’t fix me!” I lashed out. “No one can. Please just admit that.”

  His eyes darted away, but slowly he nodded, conceding defeat. I wished he hadn’t, even if I had asked him to. Knowing that he believed there was a solution had given me some bit of hope. That was gone now.

  A heavy silence followed. Finally, with obvious reluctance, Simon said, “There is one possibility. Tenger and Loelle want to take you to the Blue Caves.”

  They had said nearly the same thing to me, but I still didn’t understand why. “That doesn’t make sense, because the Blue Caves only affect—” My breath caught as the truth flooded into me. An awful truth that made my hands tremble and put a hard lump inside my throat. With tears filling my eyes, I shook my head at Simon.

&n
bsp; “Tillie told me I wasn’t a Dallisor. Loelle said my mind wasn’t like other Antorans’.”

  He nodded solemnly, and white-hot emotions shot through me, burning brighter with each new revelation. Everything became clear now.

  Why Tenger believed the Blue Caves could help me. Who my real mother must have been. How I could be the Infidante.

  How had I missed this before?

  Simon took my hand, but I yanked it away and pushed past him. “Did you know? Did you know that I’m Endrean? That I share his blood?”

  He followed me without flinching. “Half Endrean, and yes, I do know.”

  “Does Endrick know too?”

  “He believes that he killed every Endrean in his rise to power, so it’s possible he doesn’t. But maybe he’s waiting to see, because if you have magic and he kills you, he can take your powers.”

  “If I’m half Endrean, maybe I can’t get magic.”

  “Maybe not.” He took my hand again and this time I turned back to him. “You might get magic, you might get your memories back, and you might”—with his other hand, he touched the necklace—“you might be able to rid yourself of this. But the price of the answer is high.”

  “The caves might save my life.”

  “Or destroy it.” Simon shook his head. “Magic sells itself as a solution to problems, but it becomes a parasite, feeding on its host until every trace of good is gone.”

  “I can resist that, I’m strong—”

  “Yes, you are. So imagine how dangerous you will become if it corrupts you.”

  “What if it’s the only way I can return to who I was, this girl in your sketchbook, whom you speak of in nearly every sentence you utter, this girl you wanted to kiss earlier today? If I don’t go into the caves, I’ll never … we’ll never …” I took a deep breath. “Whatever you and I were before, we’ll never get that back.”