by Neha Yazmin
She examined one of the drawings particularly closely, and filed the details away in her memory. By the time Wyett came back to the lounge, she knew precisely where the Isle of the Damned was located and how she could get there.
An hour before dinner, Malin made her way to the Queen’s chambers. Leesha was sitting on the floor of her bedchamber, her legs spread out and her head leaning back on the bed behind her. Her ladies-in-waiting were fanning her, all red-faced from the heat. Amongst them was Myraa, towards whom Malin looked as she cleared her throat to announce herself. Myraa sat up straighter when she noted Malin’s gaze.
“Malin!” Leesha cried, sitting up and beaming at her. “I thought your headache—”
“Yes,” Malin croaked with a slow bow of her head. “It is, but it’s so hot. I needed air, and I found myself walking towards your quarters. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course, I don’t.” Leesha shook her head, her face stern. Then, it broke into a smile. “Come sit on the floor with me. It’s the most comfortable place to sit. Apart from the dungeons, apparently, which is where Parth is this moment.
“It’s so hot today that I couldn’t stop him from going down there, even though it isn’t Saturday. It’s so hot that I was considering joining him.”
All her ladies nodded in agreement. All except Myraa. Malin sought out the girl’s gaze and held it for a long moment before folding herself down on the floor next to her sister. Myraa looked understandably confused.
“I don’t know if my new brother is extremely intelligent or most foolish,” Malin joked. “The dungeons might be the coolest place in Adgar, but the Dungeons Keeper is down there, too.”
The Queen’s ladies shivered at the mere thought of the terrifying Keeper.
“He’s been to the dungeons on enough occasions,” Leesha said, feigning disapproval, “that I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on a first name basis with the Keeper.” She laughed and rolled her eyes.
The same eyes that Malin had, and the twins. Leesha was her sister, her Queen, but she couldn’t turn to her for help with regards finding something as simple as a stupid book! Perhaps Leesha had a right to know about Kanona’s family history, but she’d tell Parth, something Malin had to avoid. She had turn to Myraa instead. That’s why she’d come to Leesha’s rooms, that’s why she kept looking at Aaryana’s closest friend as she sat with the Queen. She was following Rudro’s advice to the tiniest details.
“Myraa’s a clever girl,” Rudro had told her in his office earlier today. “She will figure out that you need to speak to her if you constantly seek out her gaze. And she will come to you.”
Just before leaving the Academy, Malin had asked, “What if Myraa doesn’t understand my signals?”
Rudro had said, quite confidently, “If you want to make absolutely clear that you need to speak to her in secret, you can bring up the topic of her brief stay in the dungeons. That will make her think of Aaryana and she’ll know that you’re thinking of Aaryana also.”
So, it was very convenient that Leesha had brought up the topic of the dungeons before Malin had to. Very convenient that they were talking about the Dungeons Keeper now.
“Tell me, Lady Myraa,” Malin said, twisting on the floor to face Myraa.
The girl stopped fanning the Queen in surprise. She recovered quickly, though, and returned to moving the fan up and down.
“Did you have the misfortune of meeting the Dungeons Keeper when you were down there?” Malin asked with feigned curiosity.
Myraa’s fan froze again, for slightly longer this time. It took her longer to regain her composure, too. Fear and sadness crossed her eyes as she swallowed.
Eventually, the girl said, “No, Princess. I didn’t… I wasn’t in the lower levels of the dungeons, which is where the Dungeons Keeper is thought to reside.”
Her eyes stayed unfocused for several seconds, the Queen’s bedchamber deadly quiet bar the whooshing sounds of the fans.
“I’m sorry, Lady Myraa,” Malin murmured, trying to catch the girl’s attention. When Myraa finally met her stare, she added, “I didn’t mean to remind you of such a terrible ordeal.” She hoped her eyes were conveying the opposite message.
Myraa only shook her head. Because Malin didn’t know the girl that well, she couldn’t be sure if Rudro’s plan was working. Therefore, just as everyone started getting ready for dinner, Malin said, “I’m going to eat in my room and retire for the night. My headache is killing me, so I won’t be good company at the dinner table.”
Hopefully, Myraa took that to mean that she would wait for her in her rooms all night.
The Crown Prince had brought his medicine box with him. When Aaryana made to rise from the chaise to curtsy, he told her to stay seated and came and perched on the table before her. He didn’t seem to care that he was sitting on the paperwork that he’d seemingly been labouring over all day.
“Have you been keeping it clean and dry?” he asked her as he started unwrapping the black scarf from her neck.
She went rigid with surprise. Yes, she’d seen him carrying the box that contained his healing supplies, but it still didn’t feel real that he was willingly touching her. She liked the feel of his fingers on her; they were warm, comforting.
“And changing the dressing regularly? Well?” he pressed when she didn’t reply. She nodded. “Good,” he approved.
His friendliness was nowhere near that of Seth’s or King Keyan’s, but he was wearing the kindest expression she’d seen on his face, the most welcoming. Tricking this Wyett into believing that she loved him, wanted to marry him for love… it would make her feel quite terrible, she thought.
“I thought Your Highness had gone away for the day,” she said, needing to think about something other than how she was going to use him to further her agenda. “Everyone did.”
He sat back for a second. “Why, did everyone miss me?” Wyett asked, arching an eyebrow.
Then, he pulled away her scarf and started undoing the dressing. This time, his fingers repeatedly touched her skin, sometimes his knuckles pressed into her throat ever so lightly. It felt so disconcerting that she had a hard time keeping her breathing even.
“Did you miss me?” he asked a moment later, and she remembered she hadn’t answered his first question.
The right things to say were: “I waited for you—you did say you were coming to breakfast. When it seemed like you’d left the Palace, I couldn’t stop wondering where you might have gone. I thought about you all day. I missed you.”
Those words wouldn’t come, though. It had been so much easier when he was being rude and mean towards her; it hadn’t felt so wrong lying to him then. There was no guilt afterwards, either. Now, with the Prince’s quiet affection on full display, she felt guilty just thinking about what she ought to say in order to get close to him. I can’t do it to him, not when he seems to be a nice person.
His hands were gentler than she wanted to admit as he carefully peeled off the wad of cloth that she’d positioned directly over the cut on her throat. The wound tingled as it became exposed to the air. No, I can’t trick him—
Stop, she told herself. You’re close to breaking down his defences. You need him to marry you. You need him to help you return to Adgar. Indeed, she couldn’t let this opportunity slip by. Wyett was, in a way, flirting with her. It’s pure stupidity to not flirt back. She needed to at least insinuate that she was genuinely starting to fall for him.
She could tell him that she’d enjoyed dancing with him in Moon Lake, veer his thoughts towards the fact that they’d found each other during the finding ceremony. Yes, that’s what she’d do.
She opened her mouth to answer his question about whether she’d missed him today but found herself jerking her head back instead. While she’d been lost in her reverie, Wyett had taken to cleaning her cut. The alcohol-soaked muslin didn’t sting as much as her reaction suggested, but because she hadn’t anticipated it, the sensation sent a jolt of surprise through her body.
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Wyett laughed a deep indulgent laugh. “You were much braver the first time…”
He curved his free hand around the back of her neck to bring her closer, hold her head still, and continued to dab her wound with the damp muslin. His fingers were so warm on her neck that she thought they’d dry her damp hair. She wondered if her tresses were tickling his hand. His face was so close to hers; if he leaned forward another half-inch, her lips would graze his forehead. If she moved forward a little, she’d be able kiss the top of his head.
Maybe she could pretend to shiver at the alcohol in a way that caused her mouth to press onto his skin? It would seem accidental, and if it tempted him… Aaryana shook her head. It was too soon for physical contact. Today, she would attempt to express her interest in him only verbally.
“What?” he asked, straightening up.
“Your Highness?” For a second, she wondered if he’d heard her thoughts.
“You shook your head,” he pointed out. “Was that you finally answering my question about whether or not you missed me today?” There was a small smile on his lips, a challenge in his eyes.
“No, that wasn’t my answer,” she told him, each word coming out slow so she could decide what to say next. “I was just thinking that the Crown Prince shouldn’t have to tend to a wound of mine.”
The Prince rested his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, and brought his face close to hers. “I don’t mind,” he told her quietly, pinning her with an intense gaze. “I want to.”
Then, he moved even closer, their noses only a hair-breadth apart, and whispered, “Now, answer my question: Did you miss me today?”
Her mind urged her mouth to give him the lie he was obviously open to believing, but her lips wouldn’t heed its advice. Her heart was pounding against her rib cage. And Wyett’s lips… they were dangerously close to hers…
When he cocked his head a little to one side, thankfully taking his eyes off her, he said in a breathy whisper, “I order you to answer my question.”
He would kiss her as soon as she told him ‘yes’. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak.
Aaryana leaped to her feet. He rose too, with deliberate slowness, but she didn’t dare look at his face as she backed away from him and turned towards the exit.
“My answer is ‘no’,” she mumbled in a rush and half-ran to the door.
As she fought with the doorknob—it appeared to be jammed—Wyett told her to stop, but she ignored him and continued to try and open the door. Was it locked? Yes, one of the bolts was holding the door shut. Her panicking fingers struggled with it, too.
“I order you to stop,” the Prince called out, voice tight yet thick with authority.
She dropped her hands from the bolt and held herself as still as she could.
“Turn around.”
Aaryana obeyed. He crossed the distance with a few long strides, eyes defiant, mouth a thin, determined line. She swallowed when he lifted his arms and clasped his hands behind her neck. The weight of his arms on her shoulders was unbearable and she wanted to shove them off her, but he’d ordered her to stop. To stay. She couldn’t go.
And if he wanted to kiss her… that was a good thing. She needed him to want to kiss her. She told herself to close her eyes, and of course, they didn’t listen. So, she looked in his eyes as he looked in hers. He leaned forward ever so slightly to—
Wrap her black scarf around and around her neck, trapping her hair within. His knuckles poked at her chin as he tied the two ends of the fabric into a knot at her throat. Then, he gathered her hair into a fist and pulled it free from the scarf, while his other hand reached around her to undo the bolt on his door. The sound made her jump.
Before she could spin around, open the door, and run out of the room, Wyett bent his head as though to kiss her cheek and paused for two extremely long seconds. Aaryana’s heart was about to burst, she could feel it.
Moving his mouth to her ear, he said, “I’ll see you in the tower.”
First, Myraa went to the kitchens. Only the cook was there this late at night. She explained that she needed to make camomile tea and got to work. Let the cook think it’s for the Queen. Then, she made her way to Princess Malin’s quarters, and said just three words to the guards posted outside: “For the headaches.” She lifted the cup of steaming tea for them to see.
It was best not to give them any details if it wasn’t necessary. If the guards pressed for more information, she could explain that she’d seen the Princess in the Queen’s room earlier and remembered a recipe for tea that might help with the young Princess’s migraines. The guards didn’t bat an eyelid as they opened the door to let her enter.
Princess Malin was waiting for her in the lounge of her apartment, just as she’d expected. There was no time for her to recall why she was so certain that Malin wanted to speak to her in private, no time to wonder why the young girl was dressed so peculiarly, because the Princess rushed up to her and whispered, “I’m sorry, Lady Myraa, but I’m afraid I have to blindfold you.”
“Blindfold?” she asked, stunned, but Malin was already taking the hot tea from her hands and setting it down on the small table by the door.
“Yes,” the Princess whispered. “Then, I’m going to ask you to spin on the spot for as long as you can.”
She held up a black scarf that had been folded in on itself several times and positioned it over Myraa’s eyes.
Once the fabric had blinded her completely, the Princess said, “Now, spin. Off you go, round and round.”
“Princess, I don’t understand…”
Myraa shook her head, lifted her arms as though to feel the air around her. Why was it that people stretched out their arms when they couldn’t see anything? Oh, because you feel like you’ve lost your balance, that’s why!
“I’ll explain everything, I promise,” Malin assured her in an urgent whisper. “First we need to get out of the castle.”
Myraa stumbled forward a step. “Out of the castle! Princess—”
Malin caught her by the shoulders and steadied her. “Do you trust me, Lady Myraa?”
The girl sounded almost exactly like Princess Aaryana did at that moment—serious and stern and regal.
Myraa wondered if it was the younger girl’s intention to remind Myraa of the beloved friend she’d lost. Do I trust Malin? The youngest Vijkanti sister was Princess Aaryana’s favourite sibling. Myraa had heard that Malin was the only member of the Royal Family that had gone to the docks to say goodbye to Princess Aaryana.
“Yes, I trust you, Princess.”
“Good, because we have a lot to do.”
And apparently, it all started with Myraa spinning around and around until she was too dizzy and disoriented to stay upright.
King Keyan seemed haunted, exhausted. He dismissed the meeting, the first one since the rebel attack at Moon Lake, as soon as Aaryana and Wyett told him that they had nothing to report. The Prince was equally sombre throughout the short debriefing, distracted even.
As the King rose from his desk to leave his office, Aaryana’s tongue itched to ask him what had happened since dinner. Wyett hadn’t actually turned up for the meal, and neither had his siblings. The King ate in the hall, but left the table before dessert was served.
Over a cup of mint tea at the end of the meal, Aaryana had asked Lisbeth if she knew why the King’s children hadn’t come to eat. She hadn’t enquired after the King’s abrupt departure because she’d assumed he was still feeling guilty about the riot at the harvest festival and wasn’t quite himself yet. Lisbeth only shrugged. Aaryana opted to wait until the meeting in the tower to garner what was wrong with the Fresdans, and prayed that Seth was alright.
But that meeting was over now—the King had opened the secret door to return to his bedchamber, and Wyett was turning towards the main door to leave—and she still had no idea why the two men seemed so subdued. It can’t be Seth. If he was poorly, they would have cancelled this meeting altogether. She opened her mouth
to call out to the King, but nothing came out. The man disappeared into the dark passage the next second. Behind her, Wyett was opening the other door.
Before she could stop herself, she said, “Your Highness, wait.”
“What?” Wyett sounded even more exhausted now, but thankfully not at all hostile.
She turned around and found that he was turning to face her, closing the door behind him. “Is everything alright?” she asked, automatically closing the distance between them.
He just exhaled, dropped his eyes to the floor.
Her next words came out in a rush. “You didn’t come to dinner, nor did your siblings. His Majesty left early, too. You seem worried. What’s happened?”
He looked up. “You genuinely sound concerned,” he murmured. There was a touch of disbelief and wonder in his tone.
“I am.” She moved closer to him.
His eyes filled with pain, and she hoped it wasn’t over Seth. “Seth,” he breathed, closed his eyes.
Her heart felt hollow. Of course, it was Seth. Nothing other than Seth’s condition taking a turn for the worse was going to make Wyett look as small as he did now.
“What…?” was all that left her lips.
Swallowing, Wyett opened his eyes and told her, “He’s been unwell since the harvest festival, but it wasn’t anything different to what we were used to. But it’s gotten worse today, and I wasn’t with him. I was in my room, doing paperwork!”
He said the word ‘paperwork’ sarcastically, with an angry sneer on his lips, as though he hadn’t actually been working in his room all day.
“I should have been with him.”
“He seemed fine when I saw him during breakfast and lunch,” she blurted out.
Wyett looked like he was tearing himself up from within; she had to say something to ease his guilt.