by Shari Cross
Gregory walks with me in silence back across the market. Once we arrive on the road to our home, he stops. The snow is coming down harder now. We can barely see our home in the distance, but the smoke from the chimney makes it visible. I listen to his footsteps retreat as he heads back toward the market.
“Please be careful,” I say, turning toward him. “I can’t lose you too.”
He stops and turns around to face me. His cheeks are flushed from the cold and his dark brown eyes are assuring. “You won’t lose me. And I swear to you that I will get him out,” he vows, before turning around and disappearing into the falling snow.
Chapter 29
HIM
The ground is cold beneath my bloodied cheek and smells of damp earth. If it weren’t for the pain, I would think I was dead and buried deep underground. I failed her. I’m always failing her. And now I’m stuck here, and she’s out there . . . with him. If I get out . . . no . . . when I get out, I will finish this. I will finish him.
I open my eyes, determined to find a weakness in my cell. Glancing toward the metal bars in front of me, I see a scuffed pair of brown boots resting on the mixture of dirt and hay outside my bars. I follow the tattered leather up to the worn and dirt-stained cloak that is draped around a hunched back, leading to a familiar face.
“Sir Alsius?” My voice is harsh in my ears, and I’m reminded that I haven’t had a drop of water since Genoveve came to me hours ago.
He regards me with quiet curiosity, a knowing disposition in the set of his shoulders.
“You have interfered with your destiny, and now your path is unknown,” he says calmly. “Though, you may still find your way, if you learn to follow the signs, instead of trying to be a changer of fate. But . . .” he continues with a tilt of his head, “how does one follow what’s meant to be, when one was born to challenge the stars?”
I push myself into a sitting position, my teeth grinding in pain, the movement causing my already-torn skin to pull farther apart underneath the bandages and ointment Genoveve placed there. Sir Alsius isn’t the last person I want to see, but he’s definitely toward the bottom of the list. I don’t have the energy or the clarity of mind for someone who winds his words around the truth.
“I’ve never had patience for riddles that seem to have no other purpose than unnerving me,” I tell him, my voice labored. “You once told me that I was from Incarnadine . . .”
“I never told you that. You place your own understanding on my words.”
“You may have not said those exact words, but it’s certainly what you implied. And now you’re here again, offering no answers, only creating more questions. I know where I came from, and I can see in your eyes that you do too. My life is ruined. I’ve lost everything, and I don’t know where to go from here. So if you have some answers for me, tell me now or leave.”
A cloud seems to stir within Sir Alsius’s grey eyes, as though a storm is awakening within him. Perhaps there’s always a storm in his mind and that’s why his words have the clarity of a fog.
“You and I are of the same land, and you and I are both bred of heartbreak. Be thankful you have no memories. I would give anything to be rid of mine.”
I push to my feet, my hands grasping the cold metal of the prison bars. “For years you have kept your knowledge from me. I’m begging you, tell me what you know.”
“The things you truly want to know, I don’t have answers for,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “My story alone won’t help you. It’s true that I came from Incarnadine, and it’s true that you did as well. I could see the difference within you the moment I laid eyes on you. It’s as though a dusting of magic that comes from Incarnadine hovers over you, and only those who know it, only those who have seen it before, know how to recognize it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth years ago? Why did you hint at it, but then try to hide it just as quickly?”
“Because I was being honest when I said that it wasn’t safe there, and it would be equally unsafe for you here if anyone were to find out where you came from.”
“I know how superstitious the villagers are. But Addalynne’s family . . . my family, they wouldn’t care if—”
“They are not your family. They are her family, and they would protect her before they would protect you.”
“But they don’t need to protect her from me. I would never hurt her.”
“No, not on purpose. But they wouldn’t trust you anymore.” For a moment his eyes soften with pity. “I know you want to place your trust in them, just as my family wanted to place trust in the people who took us in when we fled from Incarnadine.”
“Why did you flee?”
He looks down. “That’s a story for another time.” Several seconds pass and when he looks back up, it’s clear that his mind is no longer in this prison. “Believe me when I say that, though these people may show you love, though they may lead you to believe you can tell them anything, once they hear the truth, they will turn on you . . .” He looks past me now, and his voice drops to a blank murmur. “When we fled Incarnadine and crossed the Glass River into Silveria, we found ourselves in the village of Doneria. At first we told the villagers that we had come from Kallimonia, and they welcomed us. After about a year, I thought that it would be safe to tell my companions the truth. I was young and wanted to tell them about the magic and hellions I had seen. But those words were fatal, and the villagers turned on us. They thought us to be unnatural, as they believed everything from Incarnadine to be. We tried to convince them that there was no darkness in our hearts, but they wouldn’t listen.
“When we tried to flee, they captured us, but I managed to get away. I ran along the Glass River, the sound of my family’s screams a fading trail behind me.” Sir Alsius falls completely silent, his gaze fixed over my shoulder. The torture in his eyes tells me that, though many years have passed, he remembers that day more vividly than any other he has lived. Without warning, his unsettling stare snaps back on me. “I made a home for myself in the woods for several years,” he continues, “surviving as only an animal could. And then, when I was old enough, I came here. I again told the villagers that I had moved from Kallimonia, and I’ve maintained that story until now. I know you believe that the people here are different. But people are the same in their core, and they all fear what they don’t understand.”
I wait a few seconds before I speak, giving his story the silence and respect it deserves, letting its sorrow seep into the already tortured air between us. “I’m sorry for the loss of your family,” I finally begin, “and I understand why you say it’s not safe for me to tell the truth about where I come from. But I don’t understand why it’s unsafe for me to return to Incarnadine.”
“The reasons behind the danger there are meant to be discovered by you, not disclosed by me. It’s in your path to find the truth.”
“How? How am I supposed to find the truth if I’m not meant to return?”
“I told you you weren’t meant to return when you were just a boy, and that was true then. You were too young to be burdened with the path that laid in front of you. But it has always been in your destiny to find your way back. You have a hand to play in the war that is yet to come, that much is certain, but what side you will stand for is not. The problem is that your course seems to have been altered. It used to be laid out before you, a fire in the dark to light your way. But now that fire is gone and your path is unclear.”
“Why? What changed it?”
“You did. You changed your course when you saved Addalynne. She was not meant to be saved. If she had died, as she was supposed to, you wouldn’t be here. You would be where you were meant to be—hunting the hellion that killed her, avenging her death in the Faenomen Forest, and then finding your way back to your true home. That was your path, but you ventured from it.”
My eyes flash to his, his words burning away my patience. “If my path was formed with Addalynne’s death, it’s a path I don’t want.
I will choose her every time.”
He stares at me with an aggravating mixture of pity and disappointment. “I wish you could see how much she weakens you. Your love for her fills you with fear and doubt. If you stay by her side, you will be more consumed with her than with what needs to be done, and her presence will change everything.”
“You’re wrong!” My fingers tighten around the prison bars, causing blood to seep from the gashes in my knuckles. “She is not my weakness.”
“Yet here you are—beaten and imprisoned. Is this not because of her?”
Blinding fury rises within me. I drop my hands from the bars and take a step back. “Leave.”
“I pray for our sake, you return to your course.”
“The only course I want is the one with Addalynne by my side.”
“Then we may all be doomed.”
“Leave, now.” I sneer, resisting every urge I have to reach through the bars and strangle him.
“There’s that anger. I hope you learn to control it before you go back.”
With that, he turns and leaves, and as he slowly walks up the stairs of the prison, I sink down to the ground, my head falling into my hands. I don’t know how long I stay this way, my mind a war of chaos. But eventually something pulls me from my collapsing mind—the sound of a gurgled cry, followed by the clatter of a fallen sword.
Chapter 30
HER
I have to remind myself to blink. My perpetual staring into the flames of the fire has successfully dried my eyes. They sting as I close them. Where’s Gregory? He should be back by now! It’s been hours since I returned home and it’s already well past midnight.
Rising, I begin to pace. I can’t stand this! I should have never let Gregory convince me to come home. I could have helped! And now . . . now all I can do is wait, completely helpless.
What if they were captured? They could both be dead. My heart beats manically in my chest. I reach my hands up and fist them in my hair as I drop back down to the floor. I stay there, steadily rocking, pulling on my hair until it hurts, until everything hurts.
* * *
Voices . . . I hear them whispering outside my window. I lift my head out of my hands and stare into the darkness. The fire has burned out, leaving nothing to be seen around me apart from the shadows. I strain my ears, trying to push past the sound of my pounding heart. More voices, clearer this time. I push myself off the floor and run to the window. When I push open the shutters, I find a pair of familiar green eyes staring back at me. I forget how to move. I forget how to breathe.
Drake grabs the window frame and pulls himself inside. His muffled grunt of pain snaps me out of my shock, and I wrap my arms gently around his chest and help guide him into my chambers. Once he’s in, he drops his gaze down to me. The intensity in his face leaves me breathless, and before I have a chance to speak, to move, his lips are on mine. His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him. Reaching up, I tangle my fingers into the hair on the nape of his neck. His kiss is urgent and consuming, making me almost forget about the pain and fear surrounding us.
As his lips travel down to my neck, I realize that I can taste a hint of blood. His cut lip flashes in my mind and I’m reminded of the lashes he received. I reach my hands up to his face and push it away from me. It’s difficult to see him in the dark, but I can still make out the passion and desperation in his eyes.
“Stop, Drake. We can’t do this,” I speak softly, rubbing my fingers across his cheek. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” he growls and his lips return to my neck. I pull his face away once more.
“No, you’re not.” He stares at me with irritation before taking several steps back. “I need to check your wounds.” I reach for his black tunic, but he moves farther away.
“You don’t have to. They’re already healing.”
“Drake . . .”
“Besides, it’s too dark in here. You wouldn’t be able to see them.”
“Then I’ll restart the fire.” I move toward the doused flames, but he passes me and crouches in front of them first.
“I can do it,” he says, reaching for a new log.
“No, Drake. Let me.”
“Addalynne, I’m capable of starting a fire.”
“But you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” he repeats and throws the log roughly into the hearth. “It’s only a few lashes.”
“Then let me see them.” I crouch down behind him and grab hold of the back of his tunic. He stands up and moves to the other side of my chambers. I let out an impatient breath and finish fanning the growing flames. Rising to my feet, I turn to face him. He’s standing next to my bed, his arms crossed stubbornly in front of him.
Suddenly I’m left feeling as though all the air has been taken from me as my emotions completely overwhelm me. I’m so relieved to have him here, safe and free. But he’s closed off. He won’t let me help him, and that leaves me frustrated and helpless. Then there’s the fear of what’s to come. Surely he can’t stay here. If Charles’s guards aren’t already looking for him, they will be soon enough. The first tear trails its way down my cheek. I try to hold back the rest, but it’s no use, and within seconds I’m back on the ground, my arms wrapped around my knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
Within seconds, his fingers are gently pushing aside my hair and brushing against my cheek. He moves his fingers under my chin and lifts my head to face him. He’s kneeling next to me, his body fully illuminated by the fire dancing behind him. The bruise near his eye is darker and there’s an angry welt on the side of his forehead that I hadn’t noticed before. I come to a kneeling position as well, bringing my body to face his. I swallow back the oncoming hysterics and caress his face with my fingers. He closes his eyes and lets out an unsteady breath. When they reopen, they reflect sorrow and frustration.
“I’m sorry I pulled away from you,” he says, while reaching up and grabbing hold of my hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses my palm before bringing our hands down and holding them against his chest. “But I am fine.” He must see the disapproving look on my face. “Well, maybe I’m not fine, but I’m healing, and faster than I would have expected. You know better than anyone how skilled your mother is at dressing wounds.”
Why is he talking about my mother? My eyebrows scrunch together, and a chuckle escapes his lips.
He runs his fingers along my brow line. “I take it she didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what exactly?”
“Your mother came to see me. She told me she reminded the guards that the Lady of Faygrene would be very angry if I died. So they let her give me bread and water, and clean and dress my wounds. She also gave me something for the pain.”
What? How can that be? I would have known if my mother had gone to see him. I would have seen her leave. “But . . . when? She was here all day. I don’t . . .”
“She came right after I was taken down to the cells. It was probably while you were unconscious.” His fingers move to the back of my head and he gently brushes them along the welt I have forming as well. “Are you all right?” Concern strains his face and voice.
No. I feel horribly guilty. I accused my mother of not caring about Drake, and she had already gone to him. Why didn’t she tell me? “Yes. I’m a little sore, but the headache’s gone.”
“I was so worried about you.”
“Worried about me? You had just been flogged and thrown in a prison cell and you were worried about me?”
“Of course I was.”
I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his head to me, pressing my lips securely against his. He responds tenderly, but the urgency from earlier has been replaced by a hint of hesitation.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, pulling away. I wait for him to speak and watch as he opens his mouth, but then he quickly closes it again. “What is it, Drake? Tell me.” He looks into my eyes, a regretful expression on his face, but still he won’t speak. Dread seeps into my blood. “They’re coming
for you.”
His head nods in affirmation.
How could I be so foolish? I can’t believe I let him stay here this long! “You have to leave.” I rise to my feet, pulling him with me.
“I can’t leave you.” He shakes his head. “I won’t leave you.”
“You have to, Drake. You can’t stay. They’ll find you, and this time they will kill you. You have to leave.” I gently push him to the window and see Gregory and Uncle Geoffrey pacing outside. Gregory moves toward the window.
“We have to go, Drake. The other guards will be arriving at the prison cell any minute. We don’t have much time.” Gregory looks at me. “I told you we would get him out,” he tells me with a smile before walking back to his horse and pulling himself on top. He grabs the harness of Drake’s horse, Bear, and motions with his head for Drake to come.
“Come with me,” Drake says, grasping my face in his hands, his eyes frantically searching mine.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You have to. I won’t leave you here.”
“I can’t go with you, Drake. It will make things worse than they already are.”
“You expect me to leave you, knowing that you’ll have to travel with him to Synereal. Knowing that he’ll hurt you and force himself on you,” his voice breaks on the word “force” and fury and anguish build in his eyes.
“He won’t hurt me, Drake. He’s smarter than that. I told you before; he has to present me to the King, and he can’t present me to him if I look beaten or harmed in any way.”
“No.” He moves away from the window and tears through my chambers, frantically grabbing random pieces of clothing.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
I move toward him and grab hold of his hands. “Drake, stop.” He stills, his sight set on the items he has thrown onto the bed. “You know I can’t go with you. If I do, he could hurt my family. I can’t risk that and neither can you.” His eyes slowly move up to find my face. I hate the fear I see in them, but it’s soon replaced by determination.