Fray gave a reluctant nod.
“I won’t ever come back here if you guarantee those men will never harm my family or me.”
He nodded stiffly.
I scurried through the hole in the cemetery wall. Once on the other side, I leaned up against the tree by Henry’s grave and waited for my heart to slow. Ending this now was beneficial for everyone. I vowed never to speak to Fray Castor for as long as I could manage.
Chapter 14
There was only one candle lit in Pyrus’ workroom. It burned low in the center of the cluttered table, filling the space with its tiny, flickering light.
My friend sat there, a large leather-bound book in his hands, his glasses perched on his nose. He held up a finger when he heard me enter the room, read a couple beats longer, and then placed a bookmark and closed the tome.
“The midnight hour is good for visits,” he stated. “Most visitors are transparent, mind you.”
“Some might say that isn’t true,” I said, watching the candle’s flame as it danced.
Pyrus rose and pushed up his glasses. “Then they are fools. You surprise me every day.”
I feigned amusement and walked the length of the room. “It’s dark as death in here,” I said, glowering at the crescent moon through the window where Pax sat.
“Did you come to discuss the dark or death?”
“Both, if it pleases you. They are similar.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Now, that’s not true.” He frowned and added, “I saw the same look in your brother. Something tears inside of you. What is it?”
I sighed, looking off, remembering the way Fray had wiped away my tears the night before. An action in such stark contrast to the man I assumed he was. But what sort of man was he, really? He had to be more than perpetual frowns and bouts of indignation. No one person could be without a past. What was his? Something had to have happened to bring him to our castle, washing dinnerware for royals he seemed to despised.
My thoughts trailed off. “A longing for something I can never have, perhaps.”
“Perhaps. As the heir of Stormwall, you can have anything you wanted.”
I dropped down into a chair and waved my hand over the candle, tempting the flame. “Not everything,” I started. “I’d love a horse that flew through the air and over the oceans. And cleaned up after itself.” I shook my head and cleared my throat. “You’ve seen many injuries and their after-effects. Tell me, what is happening to me?”
“Nothing is happening to you, Princess. Life changes people, and sometimes situations change you quicker than you ever imagined. But change shouldn’t be feared.”
I frowned. “Even when those changes make me do things without thinking?”
“You’re seventeen. That’s quite normal.”
I stared at my hands. I had scrubbed them so clean last night, I had taken off two layers of skin. Still, I could see the blood on them. Still, I could smell it everywhere. The memory of everything that had happened in the woods trickled down into my mind and drew my focus away.
This wasn’t a normal change.
I drew in a breath. “Did my brother speak to you before he went off beyond the Archway?”
Pyrus nodded, tucking both hands into his robe and resting them on his stomach. “He had dreams that he thought I could somehow take away.”
“And did you?”
“No. Dreams aren’t so easily cured as, say, foot fungus.”
I jerked my hand away from the flame. “What did Henry dream?”
Pyrus took up a seat at the table directly across from me. “He dreamed of a better place than the one where he was heading. Orange sunsets on a sandy beach, a quaint little house with a wife and children. He said it was always warm, and he was always happy.”
I leaned forward. “Why would my brother want such dreams taken from him?”
“Because, like you, he thought it was something he could never have.” Pyrus straightened, his face blotted out by shadow. “He knew he would not return. I don’t think he meant to die, but I do believe that he would have done anything to avoid becoming King of the New Kingdom. Sometimes you get stuck in your ways because it’s the only life you have ever known. It takes a great man—or woman—to break free.”
I pressed my lips together. The candle burned so low now that I couldn’t even see my own hands in front of me. “He failed,” I breathed.
I heard Pyrus’s chair scrape across the floor as he rose.
“His fire will never die out. It’s only when you give up that the light stops shining.” His tone was agitated, sandpaper against a rock.
He lit another candle and replaced the one that had burned down.
“The world is an awful place,” he said, gentler now. “There’s so much pain. Such a great deal of it, that it makes me wonder where all the good has gone, and if I’ll see it before I go.”
“I wonder the same thing.”
Pyrus turned on his heels, knocking over a high stack of books where his chair sat. “No,” he said firmly. “I will not tolerate this.”
I was on my feet in an instant. “What—"
Pyrus cut me off. “You will not back down. You will not become a fat, old man like me, hiding in the dark, treating spider bites. You will follow your brother.”
“Follow him how?” I was exasperated, trying to follow Pyrus’ meaning. “I can’t join the army. It would never be allowed. Though I could shave my head and maybe tightly bandage my—"
He stomped his foot. If it were wood under our feet rather than stone, I was sure it would splinter. “Hear me, girl. Do not let them break you. You are unbroken. If they tell you to do something that you don’t want to do, tell them no.”
I scoffed. “Tell me, are you new here? Do you not know my mother? Easier said than done, my friend. You’re not a princess.”
Pyrus had a scoff of his own at that. “Nothing but a title. A word. Just like a name. Throw it out and find a new one if it suits you.”
I had considered that before, to such an extent that I had once picked out my very own name, when I used to play pretend with Lulu. My name would be Enya, “little fire” in the old language, and my last name would be Mar, for the sea. With such a name, I’d be free of my mother and everything else that weighed me down like stones. It would be me, scrubbed free of that responsibility and of being forced to be somebody I was not.
Certainly, the gods would punish me for doing such a thing.
“It’s a nice thought,” I said. Pax cawed and bowed his head in a nod, but Pyrus wasn’t so agreeable. He studied me critically from his seat at the table. The candles danced in his spectacle’s reflection.
“Are you here because you wanted to talk about your thoughts?”
“They’re much better than dark and death, I suppose,” I replied. I went to Pax’s window and placed both hands on the stone. It was wide enough for someone of my size to fit through if I stood atop the table. I could do what I did best and run away. Who knew if I’d meet my demise? But I’d fall out the other side with no way of getting back up the same way.
If I fell, there’d be no way back.
But instead of seeing myself running in the moonlight, in my mind’s eye I saw a man of cloth reciting vows and a choir chanting prayers as I walked down a path lit by hundreds of tall candles, burning like trees set on fire. I saw a crown of gold and rubies and myself, skin on skin with a man I didn’t love. And forever, I’d live behind the walls of my stone prison while men like Henry traveled and fought and died in my name. Rowan was a name of power. But it was also a name of death, and it would stay that way until the day the name became ash and dust, as all things were destined to be.
I turned away from that window, unable to remember why I had come to Pyrus in the first place. Was it to remind myself that I could dream, and I could talk about dreams and sentiments as if they held any meaning at all?
Was it because of Fray Castor?
I steered toward the door, saying nothing and pulli
ng my coat close.
Maybe Henry was the reason I had come down to the damp and dingy catacombs. Because I knew that he, like me, took refuge in Pyrus, and that perhaps he had also considered squeezing out of the window and running into the woods.
He was a thing to remember when I felt my courage slipping away. Had he survived the war, Henry was going to leave me behind, but I wasn’t angry. I was envious because I would never have the courage to stand firm against my father and to leave the Rowan name behind. That bravery was reserved for men like my brother. Not for girls like me.
“Maybe the dark is a good place for me to hide,” I said, resting my hand on the doorknob. “And the afterlife.”
Pyrus spoke from the shadows. “You speak of dark and death as if they are the worst things that can happen to a person. There’s a light in your mind. It can light the way in the darkest of darks. And of death? The ghosts speak more humbly than you and I could ever envisage. Sometimes one action—one death—can spur a movement, sway the cosmos, and move the stars.”
A smile curved my lips and broke through the sadness drowning my heart. “Thank you, Pyrus.”
He nodded. “Do you want some advice?”
I smiled warmly. “Always.”
“Happiness. Find that piece and stay in it as long as you possibly can.”
“Will it take the nightmares away?”
Pyrus shook his head sadly. “No, I’m afraid not. But you can have company in them, and that’s better than facing them alone.
Chapter 15
“You look beautiful today.”
The prince and I rode our horses on the King’s road, often in silence. Much to my dismay, Archibald had decided to accompany us. The man had a tongue looser than a prisoner under the worst of tortures. His constant yammering would chase off any animal—had I been hunting—and his vulgar language often elicited a snicker from myself. My mother would not have approved of the man at all.
Alongside the Peeks captain rode Tamir, Mirosa’s Captain of the Guard, who rode with his back rigidly straight, dark eyebrows pressed down toward darker eyes, which strayed to Archibald every now and then with a look of irritation. I had only known Tamir to be nothing short of poised, speaking only when directly spoken to and catering neither to gossip nor anything other than his own duties. The two captains were clearly taken from two entirely different molds. The only similarities between the two were that they were dressed in their kingdoms’ colors—black and silver for the Peeks and red and gold for Mirosa—and had swords at their hips.
“I have never seen so many trees in one place in my entire life,” said Archibald from atop his horse. He swatted at a low flying crow. “Nor birds.”
“Don’t they have birds in the Peek Islands?” I asked.
“They do, though they’re not so intrusive.”
I laughed. Crows were nosy creatures that we used to deliver messages across the kingdom. They served us only at their own whim. We didn’t force them into servitude. Such noble creatures could never be broken like that. “I take it you’re not educated on the business of crows.”
“Business of crows? There’s a reason a group of them are called a murder. Filthy, conspiring things.”
I laughed again. “Though, some might say that crows are smarter than some people.”
Ashe picked up on my words and smiled, leaning back on his horse. The sun shone bright, warmer than a typical autumn day. His jacket hung across his saddle, and the sleeves of his shirt were pushed up revealing the corded muscle of his forearms. My heart hammered a little faster. Forearms, were my weakness.
“Being surrounded by water must have its disadvantages,” Tamir finally replied. “Like being bitten by jellyfish.” He looked away into the distance thoughtfully. “And sharks. Unless, of course, you’re frightened of water.” He turned to Archibald, a look of pity on his face, and asked, “You’re not frightened of water, are you?”
The two men went at it for at least twenty more minutes until we came to the springs—the place where Henry had taught me to swim when I was only five years old. I wasn’t very good at it and swore I was drowning half a dozen times in a ten-minute span. I’d felt like I was full of sand and sank like a stone, and always would. It was one of my earliest memories.
I took off my boots and folded my pants up, so that the water came up to my calves, and waded there, trying to forget. The sky was a perfect blue, not a cloud in sight. I took off my riding jacket and sat back on my palms.
I liked winter. It was like a rebirth for me. Kind of like casting off my skin and getting a brand new one once the snow disappeared. This winter, though, would be a different sort of shedding. I would shed whoever I was now. For the first time, I didn’t know who I would become.
How much would I change when I married? Thinking I would stay the same as I was now would be a mistake on my part. Grief over losing Henry had already changed me. Giving my life to a man and bearing his children—all while ruling an ever-expanding empire—seemed like something to run away from. Assuming running was even an option for me. It didn’t seem like much of an option presently.
Ashe might or might not be part of that. Following my example, he removed his boots and pushed up his pants. Ashe smiled as he sat a respectful distance away, his green eyes narrowing against the sunlight. “I’m sorry about Archibald. He can be sort of…hard to swallow.”
“My mother sure doesn’t mind him.” I shook my head and straightened. “My father has been gone far too long.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I can’t miss what I never really knew. My father has been gone so much, Stormwall might as well be ruled by that big, ugly portrait on the wall of the grand ballroom.”
Ashe sighed through his nose. “It’s a pity that I’ve yet to see that.”
“Don’t. It’s hideous.”
Ashe snorted. “I’m not sure you’d take to my father. I think that is why Mirosa and the Peeks have yet to become allies. My father is too much like yours, and I’m too much like your brother, I suppose.”
“Why is that?” I asked, forcing down the dread rising from the pit of my stomach. Hearing someone other than family speak of Henry always felt too raw.
“Because we both obey our fathers.” Ashe sighed. “Because your brother never wanted to go to war.”
“He said that?”
Ashe shook his head. “He didn’t have to.”
I tilted my head back and glowered at the sky. It was weird to think of Henry as anything but a loyal soldier. To think he’d never wanted to be one, that he’d hidden that fact from me and others, was more than I could bear. Did he tell my father of his true feelings? Did my father force him to join his war?
I shoved the thoughts deep down. How could I even think that? I’d turned to Ashe to scold him for bringing up such a thing, when I saw how strikingly sad he looked. Losing Henry was not just my burden to bear.
After a moment, Ashe pulled his feet from the water and slipped on his boots, forgetting his socks. And the fact that his feet were soaked. He jogged to where our horses were tied and slipped something out from under the saddle blanket. A bow. An intricately carved one, and so beautiful that it pulled me to my feet. “Is it yours?”
Ashe held it out to me as I approached. I looked over the rosewood grip, inlaid with silver swirls that reminded me of a breeze. Mother-of-pearl dotted the upper and lower arms. It was a far cry from my traditional hand-carved bow. I couldn't let go of it.
“I call it Sky Hunter.”
“Sky Hunter,” I echoed and positioned my hand around the grip, pulling the string back. “Is this…”
“Great Sabrecat sinew. It’s rare.”
I lowered the bow. “They are rare. So rare that one hasn’t been seen in two decades.”
I tilted my head. “Wait. You’re not giving this to me, are you?”
He pursed his lips and ran his hand through his short hair. “If it’s too much, I can lease it to you.”
“I would
kill you now for this bow if it came down to it,” I said through a laugh, still gripping the bow as if it were a lifeline. Then I lowered it, a sinking feeling in my gut. “Ashe, I don’t know if I…”
“Don’t say it,” he replied, his tone casual and cool. “It’s a gift. Don’t think of it as anything more.”
“If I don’t think of it as anything more, does that make it any less than what it is?”
The prince smirked as he spoke. “I like you, Isabelle. But I’m also not stupid enough to think you could fall in love with me at the drop of a hat. Or a fancy bow. You're tougher than nails. Was it your mother who taught you to be so bounding?”
“My brother did.” It hurt to speak of Henry aloud, but I went on anyway. “He thought a woman should learn to take care of herself.”
“Henry was very wise.”
I nodded, unsure whether to say anything more. But I continued because I felt Ashe was listening. “Henry said the Peeks was beautiful, especially in the summertime. He said you two would sword fight on the beach and that you once lost a bet and had to pick up horse manure with your bare hands.”
Ashe laughed. “As much as I don’t want you imagining me picking up after an animal, I have to admit the story is true. I swear, I stunk for a week.”
“Builds character,” I quipped.
Ashe laughed again, full of teeth and crinkling his eyes. He took a tentative step toward me. “That’s what your brother said. It’s good to know his humor was passed on, as well.”
There was a hint of apprehension in his voice, but I smiled to assure him that speaking about Henry was all right. At least for now. “You know, now that I think about it, he did mention you once. He said you both practiced hand-to-hand combat, and that your punches felt like tickles.” He frowned, and I laughed. “I’m only joking.” I leaned forward to nudge his shoulder, but he touched my cheek so suddenly my body jerked back.
“Was there an insect?”
Ashe laughed. “No…”
“Then what?”
He leaned in, his eyes focusing on my nose and further to my mouth. He brushed a hand to my cheek and began to close the space between us. I nearly choked to death on my own spit.
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