by Unknown
Then it’s truly almost over. For better or worse.
“For worse?” Illestros stills, his body going motionless except for his eyes, which slide back and forth as he searches our face. We swallow and think of what gown to wear to the prince’s chambers, how best to wring screams from his throat, but we know our brother isn’t fooled.
“Is it only fear that plagues you, sister?” Illestros’s voice is soft, dangerous, a peach soaked in poison. “Or doubt as well? Do you doubt the prophecy revealed to me by the goddess?”
“Of course not, brother.” We force a gentle smile, ignoring the racing of our heart. “It is only for worse if we fail to capture Aurora, or to win her cooperation. You’re right. We must make good use of the prince.” We snap our fingers at the slaves lurking in the corner. “Draw a bath and repair our hairpiece. We cannot appear before the boy in this state.”
“I will fetch the instruments and meet you in the prince’s cell, my queen.” Illestros kisses our cheek, seemingly ready to put the fraught moment behind us.
But we know better than to let our guard slip again.
We keep smiling. We smile as we are bathed and dressed. We smile as we glide into the boy’s cell, baring our true teeth with no bone mouthpiece to give them human aspect. We smile as we strip the boy and lash him with a three-tailed whip before releasing the biting beetles to worry at the wounds.
“Please! Please, no! No!” The boy’s shouts become wordless screams so sharp we can feel them lash at our own skin, but we stay and we smile, though his pain gives us no pleasure, and our secret, soft heart weeps for the prince.
But Illestros is right. This is part of the Mother’s plan, and even suffering is made holy in her name. It must be made holy … Because if it isn’t—
Our brother turns to watch us; we smile again.
“We struggle, but we will find the Mother’s gentle darkness,” we say, wrapping our arm around his waist. “We do not truly doubt. Do not doubt us, brother.”
“Never, my queen,” he whispers. “You will be the right hand of the goddess. And I will be your strength and comfort until the end.”
The end. It draws so close we feel its fingers closing around our neck.
Chapter Nineteen
Aurora
I awake on a bed, leaning over a woman’s sweet-smelling shoulder. I am warm all over, a little damp, and absolutely naked. I try to pull away and cover myself, but I am so weak I can barely manage a pitiful moan of protest.
“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” the woman whispers, pulling a nightgown over my head and guiding my good arm through a sleeve. “You’re safe in Beschuttz. No one will hurt you here.”
I bite my lip, stifling a moan as she works my wounded arm through the other sleeve and lays me back onto the bed. I rest my head on a pillow that smells of lavender and watch the smiling stranger pull the nightgown down my legs before covering me with a heavy down blanket.
“I’m Gettel,” she says. “It’s nice to finally get a good look at your eyes. You have lovely eyes.”
Gettel is the one who’s lovely, with dark hair, sun-kissed cheeks, and a wide smile that crinkles the skin around her eyes. She has a motherly warmth about her that reminds me of Janin. She reminds me of someone else, too, but I can’t seem to remember …
My mind is sluggish, my thoughts tangled, but at least my head is blessedly cool. My fever has broken. I’m going to live. I can feel it in my weary bones, no longer aching from ogre poison but simply utterly exhausted. I am so tired, all I want to do is close my eyes and sleep for a thousand years, but before I do, I have to know—
“Niklaas,” I whisper, my voice scratchy. I lick my lips, working up the energy to ask where he is, if he’s safe, but Gettel spares me the trouble.
“Niklaas is well, and eager to see you,” she says. “But rest first, poppet. When you wake, I’ll bring you milk with something in it for the pain and bread to eat.”
Eat. The thought makes my stomach snarl and Gettel smile, but I am too tired to return her smile, or to stay awake … another …
Niklaas
I sit in a chair by the window of the sickroom and watch Aurora sleep, her cheeks pale now that fever no longer flushes her skin, her hair liberated from its warrior’s knot, free to spill in a yellow wave across the pillowcase and over the side of the bed.
Gettel washed Aurora’s hair the day we arrived, three days past, when Aurora was still burning up and submerging her in tepid water was the only way to keep her cool. The fever broke yesterday, but she hasn’t remained conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. Gettel says she’s out of danger, but I won’t believe it until I look into her eyes and see something in them besides fever madness.
And so I sit, and wait, and watch, comforted by every peaceful breath she takes.
I was too close to losing her before I could tell her that I forgive her. I can’t forget, and I can’t stop wishing that things had ended differently, but I can forgive.
I owe her that much before I go.
She sighs and shifts her arms, but she is still asleep when she shoves her blanket down, revealing the top of her white nightgown and the gentle curves beneath. She’s not the scrawny rail she appeared to be in her boy’s clothes. She dips and swells in all the girlish places, though she’s still on the runty side, even for a female. But with her chest unbound, her hair free, and lace at her throat, it is impossible to believe Aurora ever passed as a boy. She’s not simply feminine, she’s … pretty.
I know I should look at her and feel something—curiosity, attraction, appreciation at the very least, but I don’t. I don’t feel anything but the concern I’d feel for a friend, or for Haanah if it were my sister lying there looking like a rough wind could shatter her into pieces. I feel protective, of course, but that will fade once Aurora is recovered. I know she’s more than capable of fighting her own battles. As soon as she wakes up and drills me through with that determined gaze of hers, the protective feelings will be banished by the force of her … Aurora-ness.
She is unlike any girl I’ve ever met, a foreign creature in every way, too strange for all the pieces that make her up to be held together in my mind at once. I’m not sure what to call the emotion I feel for her, but it isn’t what a boy feels for a girl he wants to marry. I can’t imagine trying to seduce her.
My lip curls at the thought.
“What a … pretty face.” Aurora’s voice is breathy but amused.
I look to the bed, relief spreading through my chest when I see her eyes open and her gaze clear, clever, and rested. “Thank you.” I grin. “I’m feeling pretty today. The sun is out, the skies are clear, and you, my friend, aren’t dead.”
Aurora smiles, but I see the uncertainty in it. “No, I’m not. Thanks to you.”
I wave my hand. “Think nothing of it.”
“I won’t think nothing of it,” she says. “I don’t remember much of the journey, but I know it was dangerous. You risked your life. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
Four days ago, I would have told Ror to put a good word in for me with his sister and we’d call it even. Now I only force another smile and assure Aurora, “You don’t have to repay me. You would have done the same if our positions were reversed and you big enough to haul me over your shoulder through the mountains.”
“I would,” she says, her eyes troubled. “I’m glad you believe that.”
“Yes. Well … I’ve decided to … forgive you,” I say, the words sounding awkward aloud, not matter how many times I’ve practiced them in my head. “I came close to losing a good friend and I … didn’t like it. So …”
“So there is a good part to almost dying.” She smiles her first real smile, the one that dimples her cheeks and brings mischief to her eyes. She looks like Ror when he was teasing me, looking for a fight.
But then, she is Ror. Or Ror is her. Or
… something.
Dammit. If only this were less confusing.
“I suppose.” I shrug, nervous for some reason, unsure how to behave with Aurora now that I’m not angry with her or afraid for her life.
“I know.” She smoothes a stray hair away from her forehead, seeming a little nervous herself. “How long have I been ill?”
“Five days. Three here and two and a half on the road, “I say, grateful to put the feeling talk behind us. “Two and a half days chased by every kind of nasty creature the ogre queen could send to haunt our footsteps, but no ogres, thank the gods. She must not have had men close enough to reach us before we hit the border of Beschuttz. If she had …” I don’t finish the thought. Aurora knows what would have happened if we’d encountered an ogre battalion. I’d be dead and she’d be waking up in Ekeeta’s dungeon.
“Still, Ekeeta must know where we are,” Aurora says, worry creeping into her tone. “It’s only a matter of time before she finds this place.”
“No, we’re safe here. Gettel has magical protections set over the valley.” I point out the window where green willow trees wave in the breeze next to the stream behind Gettel’s house. “Ogres can’t see Beschuttz, and even if they could, they couldn’t set foot in it. Gettel’s wards keep strangers—human and ogre—out. If Crimsin hadn’t sent her beast with a warning to look out for us, we never would have found a way in. The village isn’t even on the map.”
“But what about Ekeeta’s creatures?” Aurora pushes her hands into the mattress, sitting up with obvious difficulty.
“Nothing touched by ogre magic can enter the valley.” I cross to the bed, rearranging her pillows before she leans back. “You should have seen the rats that tried to follow me across the river. It was like they hit a wall halfway across.”
“Rats?” Aurora shudders. “I’m glad I missed that. I’m not a lover of rats. Or bugs. Biting beetles in particular.”
“Afraid of bugs. You’re such a girl,” I tease, perching on the mattress beside her and nudging her thigh with mine.
She laughs, a high, sweet sound that makes me smile. “I am. And I’m not sure you should be sitting in my bed.” She prods my leg with a teasing fist. “It isn’t proper.”
“Proper, my ass.” I stretch my legs out on the mattress beside hers. “You’re like my sister. Your virtue is safer with me in your bed. I’ll scare off any boy brave enough to approach the princess while she is convalescing.”
Aurora’s laughter becomes a sigh. “I don’t have time to convalesce. I’ve already wasted nearly a week. Jor doesn’t have much time left.”
I take her slim hand in mine, warming her fingers, hoping the gesture will make it easier to hear what I’m about to say. “There’s no chance you’ll be able to secure an army in time. You’re going to have to let him go.”
“I know it’s too late for an army,” she whispers, surprising me. I wasn’t sure her stubbornness was tempered with any reason at all. “But there has to be another way. Jor will kill himself before Ekeeta can use him in her ritual. I can’t let that happen.”
“If you’re caught, then it will be both of you lost.” I squeeze her hand. “Your brother wouldn’t want that. It would be a senseless waste.”
Especially if he’s already dead, I think. There has to be a reason Ekeeta is hunting Aurora. Her brother already dead and Ekeeta in need of a briar-born child for her ritual would explain the queen’s determination to bring Aurora in alive.
“I know it’s dangerous for me to go to the castle.” She pulls her hand away. “But I could hire a champion, an assassin or a—”
“Assassins are skilled in killing people, not breaking them out of dungeons.”
“A knight, then,” she says, clearly frustrated. “Or a soldier or a daredevil or a circus performer who can scale the walls! Surely there has to be someone who will attempt a rescue if enough money is involved.”
“Or if they have nothing left to lose,” I murmur, unable to believe I’ve been so dim. Again. In my defense, I’ve been worried about Aurora, not her brother, but now …
“I could try my hand at it,” I say. “I know my way around the castle. I visited Mercar when I was younger and Father still attended Ekeeta’s midsummer celebration.”
Aurora shifts on the bed. “What do you mean?”
“I could try to free your brother,” I say, pulse speeding. Over the past five days, I’ve begun to reconcile myself to being transformed, but transformed and killed are two different things. Still, for all I know, I’d be better off dead than trapped in a bird’s body, with everything that makes me human stolen away.
My brothers, in their swan skin, didn’t care for me. They flew away the morning of their transformations, taking to the skies without a glance back at the family they left behind. Even when I tracked the swan Usio became to a remote lake near the center of Norvere and found him nesting with nine other birds—ten swans, the exact number of brothers I had lost—he didn’t seem to know me.
None of them did. I was a stranger, a human who sent them flying away with angry honking when I approached their nesting grounds. As far as I can tell, they are completely animal now, creatures without hope or honor or memory or a thought in their head beyond foraging for their next meal.
Wouldn’t I rather die a worthy death than become the same?
“I’ll do it. I’ll free him,” I say, decided. “I’ll at least try.”
“No,” Aurora says, shaking her head. “You’ve already risked your life for me; I won’t let you risk it for my brother. He’s my responsibility. This is my fight.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’ll be gone soon anyway.”
“No, you won’t,” she says. “Gettel seems kind. Surely she’ll keep you safe from your father.”
“I’m sure she would, but she can’t keep me safe from his curse.” I pull in a bracing breath, knowing the time has come to tell Aurora the truth. “Come sunrise on my eighteenth birthday, the curse will claim me, no matter where I try to hide.”
Her brow wrinkles. “What do you mean? What curse?”
I tell her the story, watching her eyes widen as I describe the way my older brothers were transformed into swans as the sun rose on their eighteenth birthdays.
“That’s why I needed to marry,” I continue. “A few months ago I found the witch who cursed my family and learned there is a way out. The curse only applies to sons in line to rule Kanvasola. If I had removed myself from the line of succession by marrying a girl named to inherit a kingdom of her own, I would have been free. But now …” I shrug again, trying to feel as carefree as the gesture. “I might as well make good use of the time I have left.”
Aurora blinks and I am shocked to see a tear slip down her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to be asking that question, Ror.” I pat her awkwardly on the knee beneath the covers, flustered by her tears.
She presses her lips together and nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t tell anyone.” I cross my arms at my chest. “I didn’t want a girl to marry me because she felt sorry for me. I wanted to win a wife based on my own merits, but now it’s too late, so—”
“But it’s not too late!” Aurora pulls one of my hands free and shakes it. “You’re so beautiful it’s ridiculous, Niklaas. Really. I thought you were a god when I first saw you.”
“You were out of your mind on Vale Flowers,” I say, shy for the first time in as long as I can remember. I know I’m nice to look at, but hearing it from Aurora is … strange.
“I was mistaken, not out of my mind,” she insists. “You are the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. And kind and funny and brave. There has to be a way for you to marry before your birthday. I mean, how could any girl help falling in love with you?”
“I don’t know,” I say w
ith a strained laugh. “You seemed to manage just fine.”
Aurora’s eyes drop to the bed and she releases my hand. “Yes, but I … I’m a unique case.”
“And why is that?”
She catches a lock of her hair and twines it around and around one small finger. “I ruined a fairy boy I loved once. I just … ruined him.” She blinks faster, and I can feel how hard she’s trying not to cry. “After that, I knew I’d never be able to marry. I don’t even allow myself to consider it.”
“How did you ruin him?” I ask, heart going out to her. She’s so hard on herself, even when there’s no reason for it.
“I just … I broke him.”
I catch her chin in my hand. “You can’t break someone who doesn’t want to be broken,” I say, willing her to believe it. “If he decides to recover, he will.”
“No.” Her gray eyes are as sad as storm clouds. “He won’t. And it’s my fault.”
“Well, not every boy is like him,” I say, realizing her stubborn mind is made up when it comes to her fairy boy. “The rest of us get broken and get right up, put ourselves back together, and go looking for someone to break us all over again.”
“But I—”
“And sometimes we’re the ones who do the breaking,” I say, cutting off her protest. “But that’s what searching for love is like. You keep pushing on, breaking and being broken, until you find the person you want to hold safe, the only one who knows how to keep you in one piece.”
She sighs, studying me before she whispers, “I usually hate your advice.”
I grin. “Usually?”
“You’re so flaming smug,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But that …” Her lips quirk on one side. “That was beautiful.”
“I’m a beauty, inside and out,” I say, fluttering my lashes. But Aurora doesn’t smile, or laugh. She simply stares up at me, into me, for a long moment in which I become aware of her leg warm against mine and only the covers between us, of her hair smelling like lavender and honey, and for a second, I wonder …