My breath seized in my throat for a moment. “So, the High King,” I skipped over the drunk accusation. I’d barely finished one glass of wine. “What did he say about me?”
Castillo’s mouth quirked up in the fastest smile I’d ever seen. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if praying for patience to deal with me. “He said aqua isn’t your color, clashes with your hair.”
I threw my napkin at him but I really wanted to toss the entire crepe at him, witness how he’d handle wearing raspberry crème on his pristine shirt.
He laughed, perhaps the first time I’d heard him do so. “In all seriousness, Echo, you shouldn’t have gone alone. I would’ve accompanied you.”
I appreciated the sentiment, even if his voice also carried a dose of disappointment. “I asked Cris to make certain that no more girls were sent home. I don’t wish anyone to get hurt.”
“Did he agree?”
I nodded. “But I don’t think he fully believes me about Bo and Gibson’s harshness.”
Castillo fiddled with the napkin. “Cris doesn’t see things the same way you do.” He studied me to make sure his words hit their mark. “He’s petitioned our father for an early wedding, so perhaps your plan is working.”
“Perhaps.” I ducked my head as his gaze steadied on me. I hadn’t discussed my new plans with Castillo. He thought me willing to ensure Cris would rule behind me, while I’d refocused on purging the darkness from Nythinian magic and liberating Umon.
“I’m sorry I went without you.” I swallowed my confession about my new goals. “I felt lured there, by a power beyond my control. I didn’t know it was the High King. I thought I could handle whatever—and whoever—I found.”
“Echo, you’re always in danger,” he said. “Do you not see this?”
“I can handle Bo and Gibson.”
“Perhaps,” Castillo said gently although he meant, “No, you can’t.” He might be right, but I wouldn’t concede.
We ate until the crepes were nearly gone, as was his frustration and my indignation, until I couldn’t stomach the soundlessness between us. “How long have you been here?”
“Since seven.”
All the shyness between us came rushing back. “It’s nearly eleven.” My words caught on themselves as they left my lips.
“I know what time it is.”
“You don’t have duties today?” I nodded toward his blue collared shirt and brown trousers.
“Not in the compound.” He sipped from his coffee mug, and his cool demeanor, his declaration that he’d been waiting for me to wake for nearly four hours, brought a rush of frustration I couldn’t explain.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“You’re beautiful when you sleep.”
I swallowed my tea—and my smile. He knew his charm could win wars, and I saw no need to fuel his ego. I repeated my question.
“I’m leaving, Echo.”
I dropped my fork. “Leaving?”
Castillo looked away, his jaw clenched.
“For how long?” I picked up my fork and squeezed the metal as if I could reform it with my grip.
“Until the job is done.”
“What job?”
He answered by standing and smoothing down his perfectly pressed shirt. The summer sky color suited him better than the all-black soldier’s uniform. His eyes hinted at more gold than they had previously, but they harbored secrets I wanted to know, the same as always.
“I cannot tell you.”
“Castillo—”
He pinched his eyes shut. “Please do not say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
He moved closer to me, and I stood to meet him hoping that he couldn’t leave without kissing me.
“Like you need me.”
“I do need you,” I whispered.
“Cris wasn’t wearing lipstick this morning.”
A lick of heat shot to my face. “We haven’t—”
He caught my fingers in his, and I thought for sure he’d kiss me. Instead he said, “I’ll miss you.”
“You’ll see me when you look at the sky.” I shoved the gathering emotion back down my throat. Grandmother had fed me this fairy tale whenever I felt anxious about doing something without her. “Look to the skies, Echo,” she’d said. “You will find me there.”
“I suppose we will share the same sky,” Castillo said.
I nodded and looked away, inhaling deeply to gain control. Castillo was my escort and guard. A friend I was only beginning to know. My bond. I felt certain his path led into something dangerous, and I didn’t know if I could survive another severed bond.
His face darkened. “Echo, while I’m gone, don’t say anything you will regret. Promise me.” He smiled, and the sadness in his eyes went out.
“I cannot make that promise.” I stretched up to find his mouth. If he wouldn’t kiss me, I would kiss him. He let me for only a moment, and then he tucked his chin down, resting his forehead against mine.
#
Lucia found me brooding in the shady courtyard, my knees tucked to my chest and my dress swaying in the slight breeze from the rooftop. I’d promised Castillo I’d stay out of trouble, and the courtyard felt like the safest place to keep such a vow.
“You have a visitor, Echo,” she said. “Shall I show her in?”
I swung my attention to her. “Does she have a name?”
“Mariana, miss. I didn’t ask for a last name. I shall—”
“Sorry, Lucia.” I sighed. “Mariana is fine to come in. Thank you.”
She ducked her head and made a hasty escape. I would need to apologize again. My foul mood over the departure of Castillo should not transfer to my ladies. “Lucia, truly,” I said when she returned with Mariana. “I apologize.”
“No need.” A small smile accompanied her reassurance before she made herself scarce.
Mariana stepped into the courtyard. “So here’s where you have been hiding out.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“I haven’t seen you for over a week.”
I stretched my back and threw a prayer to the skies. “I’ve had other appointments.”
She squealed and gripped my forearm. “With whom?”
Everyone special, I thought, remembering the meals and outings and strolls with Cris, the one with Castillo, even a time or two with Lucia or Matu. “No one special,” I said. “Sometimes the Prince, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Am I that transparent?” She smiled without a trace of malice.
Yes. “Not at all.” Maybe thinking before I spoke wasn’t as hard as I thought. “We’re all scrounging for time with His Majesty.”
She plucked a flower from behind me and twirled it by its stem. “You don’t seem to have trouble with that.”
“Of course I do.”
“I haven’t seen you at any of the group activities.”
“I have not received an invitation for them.”
“Then you’ve had individual time?”
“Sometimes.” I hedged away from admitting that I could see Cris whenever I wanted, even in the dead of night.
Mariana frowned and glanced around my modest courtyard. “So you’ve just been hanging out here, with your servants?”
“Not entirely,” I said, annoyed. “I’ve been eating lunch with the girls. And my guard and I go walking in the gardens. And . . . ” I couldn’t tell her about the conversations about magic, or the carriage ride out to the wall to subdue the uprising. I couldn’t tell her I’d sewn three dresses, including the one I now wore, or that Lucia and I had already begun designs on a wedding gown.
I couldn’t tell Mari about the hours I spent in this exact location musing on those very things, or worrying that I hadn’t yet received a letter from Olive, or how I was planning something dangerous with Castillo. I couldn’t tell her about making ice cream with him, the kiss in the hall, or the one we’d shared a mere hour ago, before he left, never once looking back.
> “Yes, I’ve spent most of that time here with my maids.”
Mariana leaped to her feet. “Well, let’s go then.” She took my hand and pulled me off the wall. “You’re not even dressed!”
“This is my house dress.” It was a striking pattern of gold and black—anything but plain. “And where are we going?”
“I’m assuming you have not been to the pools.”
The excitement on her face made me smile. “Not yet.”
“They’re wonderful. All the girls love them. Ask your clothing matron to get you a bathing suit. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
#
The mere thought of wearing a bathing suit made me cringe but I didn’t want to disappoint Mariana. When I asked Lucia if I had one, she produced seven. I selected a black one-piece that Grandmother would have approved of. I had no need to impress anyone at the pools.
I soon learned that Mariana’s five minutes meant fifteen. She returned with curled hair, rouged cheeks, and a billowing pink cover-up whipping behind her as she strutted down the hall. I stood in my open door, with a modest robe covering my suit and a towel clutched in one hand.
Greta had offered to touch up my makeup, but I’d waved her away. My face would likely get wet, and the artwork would be ruined anyway. But now that I saw Mariana, I wondered if maybe I should’ve taken fifteen minutes to get ready, too.
Mariana took my towel and together with hers, handed them to her escort. “Echo, this is Solis. Sol, this is my friend Echo.”
“One hears great things about you, Miss Echo.” Solis took my towel and allowed me to walk next to Mariana while he trailed behind. My feet slid in the sandals Lucia had provided. I could only imagine the horror of them when wet.
“One does?” I asked, still trying to recover from being introduced as anyone’s friend. I was not sure how I felt about Mariana—were we friends? Yes, I tried to sit next to her at lunch, but only because the other girls speared me with unkind glances and whispered words of hatred. I listened to Mariana’s gossip and gasped in all the right places. Yes, I suppose we were friends.
“Great things,” Solis repeated. I wanted to ask him what exactly, but Mariana clasped my arm and started talking.
“Gazelle doesn’t know what she’s going to do. His Majesty hasn’t invited her to his suite once for individual time. She’s beside herself that she’ll be cut next.”
“She won’t get cut,” I said. “There are no more cuts until the harvest. His Majesty is not eliminating us one by one.” My words held a jovial note, but as soon as I spoke I wondered if I’d revealed too much information.
“I know, I know,” Mariana said, and I breathed a soft sigh of relief. “But poor Gazelle. She’s beautiful, but that’s about all.”
“Mariana,” I admonished. “I’m sure she’s smart enough.”
“No, really, she isn’t. I’m not saying it to be cruel.” She turned down another hallway, and these corridors were long, straight, and made of gray stone. Some had windows and some tapestries. Some bore doors of glass and some had been carved into archways. Some sloped upward, and some down. The one we worked our way along now held a slight downward tilt, but the sliding sandals made it hard to tell for certain.
“I’ve never been here,” I said. “Where are we?”
“We have gone down a level,” Mariana said. “The pools are beneath His Majesty’s suite. They’re fed by the Burisia. Have you seen the river?”
I couldn’t determine how we’d gone down a level. The floor hadn’t seemed that sloped.
“Echo? Have you seen the river?”
“Yes, I’ve seen it.” I remembered last night, the cool summer air, the not-quite there moon, the soft rush of water.
I remembered the nearness of Cris, the steadiness of his breathing, the warmth of his hands. A blush crept into my neck as I listened to Mariana gush about the beauty of the water.
“I love the multi-colored qualities of water,” Mariana said with a happy sigh.
I jerked my attention back to her. My heart simultaneously sank and hammered at this new direction in the conversation. How could she talk about magic so carelessly? I narrowed my eyes, wondering if she was setting a trap for me, trying to get me to reveal my powers. “Multi-colored qualities of water?”
She waved a hand and laughed in a trilling manner. “No one else can see it! But I can. I hope you can too, Echo.”
I suspected I might be able to, but I’d need to pretend as if I didn’t. I’d only heard of one other person who could see multiple colors in water, and she had once been one of Iskadar’s greatest magicians.
My mother.
I hadn’t thought so much of her in a very long time. I frowned as I pushed her into the safe compartment in the back of my brain.
Mariana turned down another hall, and the sun shone hot and bright through a sea of glass. I shielded my eyes with my hand as we drew closer. The heat licked my bare arms, and I drank it in greedily.
“Here,” Mariana said. I followed her a few paces down the hall to the left. I stepped from stone to vegetation and felt the worries of my soul lift away, much the same way they did whenever I left this compound.
A sigh escaped my lips and Mariana giggled. “I knew you’d love it here!” She bounded away from me toward a boulder where she deposited her shoes. She turned back toward me, and even through the blinding sunlight, I saw the wonder etched on her face.
“Wow, Echo,” she called. “You’re glowing.”
At Mariana’s words, a story Grandmother once told sailed to my memory.
“Long ago,” she begins, her rocking chair squeaking forward and splintering back. “The magicians of Relina sent twelve weavers across the lands.”
I hurry to finish drying my hands and then practically sprint to my spot in front of her chair. Her long, white hair sways with the motion of her rocker, and I trace the veins in her arms until they disappear under her sleeves.
“Beautiful women,” Grandmother continues. “Who could repair the wounded heart and weave broken earth back together. They traveled together, righting the wrongs and binding the human race back to their motherlands. Until one day . . . ”
Her voice fades as her eyes drift closed. She hasn’t finished, but I know better than to encourage her to continue. She will, when she’s ready. Or rather, when the story is ready. One of Grandmother’s gifts is language. She can speak seven, and they all roll beautifully off her tongue.
I envy her that. My mouth can barely form words in my native tongue. Even Oake does not have much hope for me in linguistics. Singing is another matter altogether. Oake claims the magic streams from my every pore with a single note, and I just need to “find my voice.” I feel different when working magic through song, so I believe him, though I’m not sure about finding my voice.
“You glow, Echo,” he says to me. “It’s beautiful.” I enjoy feeling like I’m beautiful. As beautiful as the moon that glows on a deep winter night. As beautiful as the fire that dances through the depths of the forest, providing warmth and light to the worn and weary.
“The twelve weavers came upon a group of refugees who had been traveling through the lands for some time,” Grandmother continues. “Many had died and every heart held cracks. The weavers had never known such sadness for they had never encountered the tragedies of war. Their magic could not repair the damage done to the refugees.”
Grandmother’s voice warps together with the wind, with the creaking and splintering, until I cannot separate the sounds.
“The weavers cried to the ancients of Relina for help, but none came. You see, Echo, the magicians had created the weavers for such things. They’d poured all their compassion and healing power into the women. They had nothing left to give.
“The weavers wished for success. They prayed for it. When it didn’t come, they let their frustration poison their hearts. One by one, the weavers left. They set out to travel on their own, healing what little injuries they could. The lands call out for their
collective power but do not find respite.”
Grandmother opens her eyes. “Your mother needed one of the old weavers, child. Her hurt could not be healed here in Iskadar. Do not trouble yourself with her absence.”
“Has a weaver been able to help her?”
“I doubt it, child. They have lost their power,” she says. “Given it all up to the lands, though it is still not enough. They wander, lost and forgotten, among men.”
“Is it possible to meet one?” I sit up straighter and decide to discuss weavers with Oake.
“Oh yes, Echo. You can meet one. They seek out the wounded and weary, and offer what little comforts they can.”
“How will I know when I meet one?”
“They glow, child,” Grandmother says. “They glow.”
Nineteen
I recoiled from the pools, bumping into Solis as I did. “Excuse me.” I continued my retreat, but couldn’t escape the direct sunlight. I felt foolish, even as the memory of Grandmother’s story washed through my mind. I couldn’t be a weaver, though I knew the ancients of Relina could transfer their intelligence, so it was possible for my body to house the mind, will, and soul of someone who’d lived centuries before.
Nevertheless, my limited intelligence hadn’t been roaming the earth for hundreds of years. My soul, my mind, wasn’t created from tendrils of magic and remnants of dust by the first magicians of Relina.
I turned and flew on legs of lead down the hall. Behind me, Mariana called, but I pressed on until I gained the corner. Still, the sunlight assaulted me. Why would it not go out? I gulped at the air and couldn’t get enough.
“Echo!” Mariana burst around the corner. “Whatever is the matter?”
I couldn’t order the words for an excuse fast enough. The gray walls pressed in on me.
“Perhaps she isn’t feeling well,” Solis said. “I could escort her back to her suite and return for you, Mari.”
“Echo?” Mariana asked.
“I’m not feeling well.” I seized Solis’s words and used them as my shield.
She smiled then, something I least expected. “Let me heal you.” Before I could stop her, she placed her hand on my cheek.
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