by Shari Cross
He seems to calm slightly, but then he shakes his head while crossing his arms defiantly over his chest, his eyes burning with an emotion I can’t place.
“That was my decision to make, not yours. You should have been honest with me and let me decide what to do. Besides, that’s not what I’m talking about. I decided to stay after all that anyway.”
“Then why did you leave?”
His eyebrows scrunch with confusion. “Because of the prisoner. I had to leave and try to talk to him, to get some sort of answers from him about Incarnadine. And I told your father and you, in the letter I wrote you, that I was going to come back to you as soon as I had answers.”
A letter . . . My father . . . I don’t understand.
“Then your father wrote me and told me not to write you anymore. He said you were moving on and that you wanted me to move on too and that getting letters from me just hurt you more.” The pain is clear in his voice as he speaks, but what he’s saying doesn’t make sense. He looks at the grass at his feet, his voice slightly lowering. “When I read those words, my whole world came crashing in on me. I never felt so much pain in my life, but I did what you wanted. I stopped sending you letters and I canceled my plans to leave the Schild. Then, one day I was in the capital’s market and I saw Jacqueline and . . . obviously, you know the rest, but I didn’t want her. I just wanted to see if I could feel anything for another girl.”
“Did you?” I ask before I can stop myself. There are so many other questions I have about what he’s said. But this is the one that matters the most. And though I’m terrified of the answer, I have to know the truth. His eyes flash to my face, looking at me as though I’ve gone completely mad.
“Of course not. All I felt when I kissed her was disappointment and heartache because she wasn’t you. I didn’t want to be disrespectful, so I told her that I hoped to see her again, but that was a lie.” He pauses for a moment, as if considering his next words. He lets out a breath and looks me straight in the eye. “You are the only girl I have ever wanted. Every time I looked at you or thought of you, I knew that this,” he gestures between us, “was the only thing that mattered. It was the only thing I needed. But I also thought that you didn’t feel the same way, so I convinced myself that it would be better for both of us if I stayed in Synereal.”
“Better for both of us,” I repeat his words back to him with a frustrated chuckle. “It wasn’t.”
He doesn’t respond to my words, and I take some time to try and wrap my head around what he’s said, but it’s too overwhelming. He said he wrote me telling me he was going to come back and that my father knew he was going to come back, but that’s not true. It can’t be. Then he said that my father told him I had moved on, but that’s definitely not true. Sure, Charles had come to see me, but my father knew I didn’t reciprocate his feelings. So he wouldn’t have told Drake I had moved on. But why would Drake lie about that? And if Drake’s not lying, then it’s my father who has lied. But why would my father do that?
“I know I was sick, but once I woke up I was aware enough to know if I had received a letter from you. I didn’t get any letters. And I definitely didn’t tell my father to tell you not to write me or to tell you that I had moved on.”
“So you think I’m lying to you?” he asks defiantly.
Maybe he is lying. Maybe he’s trying to cover the fact that he wanted to stay in Synereal. But everything about his demeanor tells me he’s not.
“I don’t know what to think, Drake.” And I don’t, I’m too overwhelmed to think right now.
He moves toward me, his eyes guarded. He reaches inside his vest and pulls out a pile of what must be at least twenty letters. “Maybe these will help.”
“I thought you said you stopped writing me.”
“I said I stopped sending you letters, not that I stopped writing them.” His voice is distant as he places the letters in my hands. He gives me one last unsure look before turning away and walking farther into the woods. I want to call out to him and tell him to stay with me, but instead I watch him walk away.
Chapter 15
HER
I wait outside the manor for Gregory, sitting underneath the glass birds, their flickering eyes watching me as my fingers drift absentmindedly to my lips, remembering the feel of Drake’s kiss. My heart quickens at the memory, and I have to slow it by thinking about his words. Is he lying to me or is it my father who’s lied? I’m not sure which deception would be worse.
After what feels like an eternity, Gregory finally makes his way out, arm in arm with Mary. His mask is now on her face, and hers is in her hand. They’re joking and laughing playfully so it takes several seconds for him to see me, but when he does, he whispers something in Mary’s ear, kisses her gently on the cheek, and rushes to my side.
“What happened? Did Charles hurt you?” he asks anxiously, crouching down next to me.
Charles. I almost forgot about him. He’s probably looking for me. I feel instantly guilty, but I can’t deal with turning down Charles’s courtship right now.
“Drake’s back,” is the only thing I can manage to say. Gregory doesn’t seem surprised.
“I assumed he’d eventually come back. He wasn’t doing very well over there.”
“What makes you say that?” And why didn’t you tell me?
Gregory shrugs. “He was a great Schild, but he wasn’t himself while we were there. Well, in the beginning he was. He even talked about coming back to you. But then one day he said he would be staying in Synereal. I asked him why, but he wouldn’t explain. After that day he focused solely on his duties and hardly spoke to anyone, including me.”
Our carriage arrives, and Gregory takes my hand to help me up. “What are those?” he asks, his chin motioning toward the letters. I ignore his question and take my seat. I can feel Gregory watching me, waiting for me to speak, but I remain silent and watch the trees pass. When we arrive home, I jump down from the carriage and run to the front door.
When I step inside, Mother’s footsteps rush down the hallway, eager to find out how our night went. When she turns the corner, her gaze falls upon me and she stops.
“What happened?”
“Drake’s back.” Thankfully, Gregory answers for me while closing the door behind him. Mother nods and steps aside, allowing me to pass.
Once I’m in my chambers, I light the candles around my bed and peel off my dress, throwing it in a disheveled pile on the floor, leaving me in my chemise. I climb into bed with the letters and Drake’s jonquil gripped tightly in my hands. I take a deep breath as I set them down on the nightstand, and take the top letter in my hands. With trembling fingers and a rapidly beating heart, I open the first letter.
Addy,
Another sleepless night passes by. I don’t even try to sleep anymore. Instead, I come to the lake. The stillness of the water and the surrounding trees remind me of you. You would love it here. So quiet. Nothing but the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind and the water lapping at the shore. I can picture you, perched on top of one of the branches of the trees, staring down at me as I write this letter. If only you were.
Lately, I find myself thinking about when we were young. I miss the innocence and naivety of those days. I wish I could go back and tell myself that those strange feelings I was having were those of jealousy and love. Maybe if I had recognized them sooner, I’d be with you now.
Once I realized my feelings, I thought that not knowing how you felt about me was the worst it could get. I was wrong. I realized that the day you almost died.
Knowing that you’re awake and recovering is what I focus on now. Even though I’m not with you, each day you grow stronger, I grow stronger too. But I’m still incomplete without you.
How do you spend your days? What’s filling them with excitement? I wish I were there with you. I regret leaving you every single day.
Drake
Addy,
I know I’m not supposed to write you. Your father says my lett
ers will only hurt you more, which will hold you back in your recovery. I don’t want anything to hold you back, especially not me. But I can’t stop writing you. So instead I’ll put the words that I wish I could say to you on this paper and keep them with me. It’s better than keeping them in my head. I already have enough thoughts in there to drive me mad.
I wish I could say that I’m happy you’ve moved on. But the thought of you with Charles makes me sick. Why did you choose him? I guess it doesn’t matter why. It was your choice to make. I made my choice the day I left. I made the choice to chase a past that doesn’t seem to exist, instead of stay in the present and save my future with you.
Drake
The tears are running down my face as I reach for more letters and tear through them. It’s like binging on sweets; addicting, but in the end, I know my stomach will sour with the thought of how much pain has been caused and how much time has been lost.
Addy,
King Theoderic agreed to let me see the prisoner from Incarnadine. He said I’ve done well in my training and will be allowed to help question him in the next few days.
I’m eager to see him and get some answers, but I’m scared too. I’m scared that he’ll tell me something awful about my family or about myself. But honestly, what terrifies me most is the possibility that he won’t know anything. If that’s the case, I’ll be left, once again, with no answers.
I also think I might tell King Theoderic the truth. I trust him and don’t think he will punish me for being from Incarnadine. And maybe if he knows the truth, he’ll give me more information.
Drake
Addy,
The prisoner is dead. King Theoderic said he killed himself, but there are rumors that say otherwise. If the rumors are true, I can’t tell King Theodoric the truth about my past. Though I still think he would help me, I can’t take the chance. I don’t care much about what he would do to me. But I’m worried about what could happen to you. I’m terrified that you could be punished for lying. If I tell the King about how you really found me, will the news spread to Faygrene? And if it does, what will this mean for you? People in Faygrene would be furious with you for lying about me. Even if the King wouldn’t consider me cursed, others will, and they’ll punish you for bringing me into their village. I could ask him to keep my secret, but I don’t trust anyone, apart from myself, with your safety.
I’ll still ask him what he knows about Incarnadine, and see if he’ll give me any information. With that information, I’ll try to put the pieces together on my own. But it really doesn’t matter to me anymore if I ever remember or not. I’m tired of the constant dead ends, and I miss you. I miss all of you. I miss the life I had in Faygrene.
I wish I could talk to you.
Drake
Addy,
Gregory left today. Right before he left, he asked me if I wanted to leave with him. I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t make my mouth form the words to tell him no, but I couldn’t go with him. So I walked away and let him leave, without saying good bye. He must think I’m a coward. Maybe I am.
Drake
I stay up all night reading his letters, trying to decipher his words and the emotions they leave inside me. As the sun begins to rise, I find myself reaching for the last one.
Addy,
I’m on my way home to you. I asked Walter to write Mary and ask her about your relationship with Charles. He just brought me her response. She said that she has no knowledge of you being courted by him and that from what you have told her, you have no interest in him. She also said that, though you’ve recovered, you’re different. You’re solemn and not yourself. She thinks that it’s because of me. Though it kills me to know I may have caused you pain, her words have also allowed me to feel hope for the first time in months. So I’m coming home. Don’t be angry with Mary. Walter promised her he wasn’t going to tell me anything.
Drake
I sit on my bed stunned, as I absorb it all. Drake was telling the truth. Which means my father lied to us both. Anger courses through me. I don’t know why my father would lie, but I’ll find out later. Right now I have to find Drake.
I jump off my bed and throw my black hooded cloak over my chemise. I find my black riding boots, shove them onto my feet, and make my way out the window, landing on the cold ground.
The sun is barely making its presence known, peeking over the horizon with a lazy glance. I head straight for the woods, knowing that’s where he’ll go. He may not be there yet, but he’ll come and I’ll be waiting for him when he does.
What am I going to say to him? There are so many things I want to say, but I don’t know where I should start. I blow out a nervous breath and watch it form in the air. It’s bitter outside and the fact that I’m wearing nothing but a thin chemise under my cloak does little to help keep me warm. I pull the cloak tighter around me and raise my hood. I didn’t look in the mirror before I came, but I’m sure that after a sleepless, tearful night, I look far from my best.
I turn the corner and the line of the woods comes into view. Drake is already there, leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest, his shoulders hunched. He’s wearing the same clothes he wore last night.
His head snaps up at the sound of my footsteps and when his eyes find me, I notice the dark shadows underneath them. I want to run into his arms, but something in his expression makes me hesitate, and instead I come to a stop several feet away from him.
His cheeks and nose are red from the cold. He must be freezing, having nothing to cover his arms other than his thin black tunic. His face is pale, causing the dark circles under his eyes to look like bruises. We stare at each other in silence, both of us waiting.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, knowing I need to be the one to speak first, but unsure of what to say.
“I came here last night, after I left Lord Berrenger’s.”
“You’ve been here all night?”
“I wanted to be here in case you decided to look for me. I didn’t want to risk missing you.” There’s a tremor in his voice, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s from the cold or something else. His eyes continue to search mine, and I can’t stand the space between us any longer.
I move toward him and wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my body against his and laying my head on his chest. He tenses momentarily, but within seconds he wraps me in his arms, pulling me against him and letting out a breath of relief. Having him here and knowing he loves me fills me with a web of emotions. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I want to pull his body as close to mine as it can get, leaving nothing between us, and I never want to let go.
I wrap my arms more firmly around him and become suddenly aware of the chill of his skin seeping through his clothes. I remove my hands from his waist and find the opening of my cloak. Then, I wrap my arms around his neck, with the cloak, trapping both of our bodies inside its warmth.
My chemise offers a practically nonexistent layer between my body and his. I can feel every curve and line of his body pressed firmly against mine as we embrace. The buckles of his vest are pressing into my chest, his belt pressing into my waist. The muscles of his strong arms are wrapped around me, his fingers rubbing gentle circles on my back. But it’s not enough. I want more.
I lift my head up and turn into him. The ties of his black shirt are undone, leaving part of his chest and collar bones exposed. I stand on my toes and gently press my lips to the exposed skin. He inhales sharply and as I brush my lips along his chest, he lets out a shaky breath and pulls his arms out of the cloak. Then his hands are on my face. He gently pulls my face back, breaking my lips away from his body. His eyes are ablaze with desire, his cheeks flushed, but I have a feeling it’s no longer from the cold.
His eyes travel to my lips and I wait with painful anticipation for him to kiss me. With each that second passes, the frustration burns more and more painfully, until eventually I can’t take it anymore.
“Kiss me,” I say breathlessl
y.
The corner of his mouth twitches and pulls up into a half grin. “No.” Amusement is dancing in his voice and sparkling in his eyes. He lets go of my face and takes a step away from me, breaking my hold on his neck. My arms drop to my sides and I cross them over my chest, hating the void his stepping away has created.
“Why not?”
“Because I have already tried that, twice, and you pushed me away both times.” There’s no pain or anger in his voice—it’s light and playful—but it doesn’t lessen the guilt I feel.
“I promise I won’t push you away this time,” I say, my voice coming out in more of a whine than I intended. He raises one eyebrow and his face breaks into a full smile, exposing both of his devastatingly handsome dimples.
“Oh, really? What would make this time different?” His words are still playful, but there’s a seriousness to his face and tone as well. He wants a real answer. I take a deep breath and prepare to give him one.
“I read your letters.”
“And?”
“And, honestly, I don’t know what to say. I know that you were telling the truth, that you thought that I had moved on with Charles, but I’m still so confused. I don’t understand why my father would lie to you, to me.” My voice breaks and I swallow back the oncoming tears.
He’s looking at me intently, no longer smiling. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Isn’t what obvious?”