Unspoken

by Celia Mcmahon

  I was such a fool.

  “There is no question that this will change everything, Isabelle, but for now, we need to keep it secret. We don’t want this cure dropping into the wrong hands.”

  The sudden shift in conversation jolted me. “What—?” I thought of Crim and all the Voiceless that I had ever known. They deserved to have a voice. They deserved to speak. It was a human right. Who were we to dispute that?

  Then I thought of my attackers and those beyond the Archway who were on their way here. To kill me. To blot out the entire Rowan name, and in the process, snuff out hundreds of innocent lives. If they couldn’t utter the Gwylis words, we had a chance. We had a chance if they couldn’t use magic.

  After a few minutes of silence, Fray stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “Couldn’t be better,” I lied. “You?”

  He frowned. “You’re shaking.”

  Was I? I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “I want to go with you, wherever you are going,” I said. “You’re right. I can’t do any good here. Especially if what you’re saying is true. I’ll no longer be a princess. I’ll have to lose the Rowan name.”

  Fray clicked his tongue. “That’s all right. We’ll give you a new name. Anything you want. I would give up everything not to be called a Castor. We can both take new names.”

  There was no question that I’d go with Fray. But would I warn my family? I had to. As much as I had convinced myself that I hated them, part of me still cared for them, despite the things they’d done.

  I could walk away quickly enough, but what would it take for me not to look back?

  “If I leave here,” I said, straining against my flurry of emotions. “I can never return to Stormwall.”

  Fray opened his mouth, then closed it. After so long without a voice, what could render him speechless at a time like this?

  And then he looked to the moon through the little window above our heads. Desperately, he closed his eyes and groaned.

  “Does it call to you?” I asked. “The moon?”

  He shook his head. “I’m scared that you’ll leave when you see what I am.”

  I snorted. “You’re scared? What hope do I have now?”

  He gave a sad sort of smile. “You’re the fearless one, Isabelle.”

  I bit my lower lip. A vision of my father hung before my eyes. I was not so fearless.

  Fray turned and walked toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” My voice sounded so small. He couldn’t leave me now. Not when this might be our best chance to run.

  “To prepare,” he said. “And to find my mask so I’m not killed walking out of here.” He stared at me over his shoulder and licked his lips slowly. “Meet me at the passage in the cemetery tomorrow night. If I don’t find you there…” He exhales. “If something happens, find the cliff overlooking the sea. Do you know it?”

  I nod.

  He nods back. “Find me there.”

  “Wait.” I rushed toward him, and for a moment I let myself go to a place where I’d once taken refuge. To a faraway future. A place where I was no longer afraid of my father. A place too far for him to reach.

  He caught me in his arms, and we stayed for a moment, staring at each other. I would be wise to not let my heart go unprotected. To remember that there was more to Fray that I had yet to learn. But all I could think of was that Henry had had someone he loved, and against my parent’s wishes, was going to marry. He had followed his heart, and he may have tried to undo what my father had done. That was what I needed to find out. So, I needed to stay grounded.

  Time would tell what part Fray would play in my life. But for now, I was going to let my heart guide the way.

  And when the time came, I was going to make everything right.

  Chapter 34

  The next morning brought hope.

  I dressed in my riding pants and long-sleeve blouse. I tied back my hair and stood in front of my mirror. The person that stared back at me seemed bigger, taller, more determined than the broken one I had seen the night before. I didn’t have to be fitted into expensive fabrics and gems. I had control of my fate again and the determination of a thousand-man army. I had never felt more beautiful.

  I set out Henry’s wrapped boots. They were tough enough to make the long journey and big enough to layer my socks if need be. I strapped my dagger to my calf and exhaled.

  Long journey? Where would we even begin? I stared down at one of the maps of Mirosa. Over the mountains, through the Archway, was where Fray was born. Would he want to go back, or would we travel elsewhere? I took the sack and exited the closet, thinking of a good place to stash it.

  I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed Pedoma standing in the center of my room, staring at the pack at my feet. In less than three heartbeats, she had it in her hands and sent it sailing into the washroom just in time for my mother to enter.

  Nothing could ruin this, not even the sight of my mother walking into my room.

  “A wonderful night!” she exclaimed, twirling her extravagant turquoise gown so much that it felt as if a wind had blown. “My daughter will be married. What could ever be more gratifying?” She went to my balcony window and thrust open the drapes. Sunlight spilled into the room. I almost hissed at it. I wanted the night to come so I’d be free of this witch.

  “Oh, I could think of a bunch of things.” I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but why not get in a few more cruel words before leaving Stormwall?

  But my mother ignored me entirely. Why wouldn’t she? According to her, she’d gotten what she’d wanted. I smiled to myself as she strode around the room. Pedoma kept quiet. Her sidelong glance told me she recognized what I was up to. She knew everything, after all. But would she rat me out?

  No. She was tense, but her look was unreadable. I stared at her long enough for an unspoken response. A nod of her head told me that I was safe.

  Then my father entered, and everything began to unravel.

  “Isabelle Paratheon!”

  He embraced me immediately. His coat was thick, lined with white wolf fur. I could sense the warmth radiating from him. His forehead gleamed, his eyes watery. Why was he wearing such a thing indoors?

  Then it hit me. My father was leaving again.

  I let out a sigh of relief when he let me go. He took my shoulders and gripped them tightly. “Ashe awaits you, my girl. Dress. Come.”

  I looked at my mother, confused, but her expression was stony. I turned back to my father, finding Pedoma in my peripheral. Her mouth was agape and her eyes widened.

  It hit me straight away. The people at the ball, the ones I didn’t recognize. Were they from the neighboring cities? Were they here to…

  My father worked a hand down his beard and grinned.

  “What’s going on?” Pedoma asked. “What do you mean ‘he awaits her’?”

  “To marry,” said my mother from behind me. She took her place beside my father, a wolfish smile upon her face. “We thought, why wait?”

  My knees weakened, and I clapped a hand to my mouth to keep from screaming. I felt cornered, unable to seek any way out of this. There wasn’t one. My body lurched forward, wanting to return to Fray, to a place in time where he filled the hollowness I was feeling now.

  “Not yet, please.” I begged. In spite of everything I believed in, I begged. “Put it off, a week even. Give me time.”

  “What do you need time for?” asked my mother. Her tone was flat and level. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “There is no time like now.”

  I sank to my knees, unshed tears behind my eyes and gave my parents a pleading look. The events of the of the past weeks heaved my body into shuddering maelstroms of jolts.

  It was the loudest sound, that of my world breaking in two. I knelt at the king and queen’s feet, all shreds of dignity lost. I sobbed. I clutched their clothes. “Please. Please. Delay this. Don’t let this happen.”

  “Oh, Isabelle, d
on’t be so dramatic.”

  Everything went still. I became suddenly aware of my loss of dignity. Powerless. Humiliated. Small. Insignificant. And they loved it, wallowed in it like a summer’s rain.

  I will not be powerless. Slowly, I pushed to my feet, straightened my back, and took a deep breath. I could feel the strength of a thousand soldiers flood into me. I reeled back and conjured as much spit as I could and sent it sailing. The glob ran down my mother’s slowly reddening cheek. She bared her teeth as she transformed into the spitting image of a raging demon and raised a hand to hit me, but my father held it just in time.

  “No need.” The king’s face, blank and cold. He’d been waiting for this moment. He still thought me a puppet, and believed he held the strings.

  “Pedoma, please fetch the whitest, most fantastic gown,” instructed my mother, wiping away my spit. When Pedoma walked to my closet, my mother and I locked eyes. “White for the purest of bodies.” I thought I heard a chuckle escape her throat. “But not for long.”

  I thought I knew hate, but all along I was wrong. It banked and crested, and it kept everything to keep my knees from buckling again.

  “I don’t love him!” The words ripped from my throat, rattling my teeth. I knew they’d mean nothing, but I had to say it anyway. I’d scream them a million times over if only to say that I tried.

  That was all I had before my stomach clenched and I nearly doubled over. My voice softened to a whisper. “Just let me go.”

  It was my father who responded this time. He took two fingers and lifted my chin to meet his eyes. Without a word, he gripped a fistful of my hair and pulled me forward like a dog on a leash. I screamed again, digging my fingernails into his hand to loosen his grip. The pain tore through my scalp, and the further he dragged me, the worse it got. It burned so badly, I started seeing spots.

  “What you’re wearing will have to do,” said my mother, walking behind me, ignoring my cries. “He’s going to die, you know. The servant boy. We’ll find him, and we will execute him and be done with it.”

  She shut my door, leaving Pedoma and my packs, locking away any hope I had left. There was only one thing I could do at that moment, so before we even reached the landing to the main floor, I drew out my dagger. I stared at it. And stared and stared and decided and swiped the blade across my father’s arm. I freed myself from his grip. With my dagger drawn, I looked at my father and the drops of blood that dotted the marble floor at his feet, and with agonizing fear in my heart, I ran, bolting down the steps and into the main hallway where I tripped and landed hard onto my knees.

  I am not powerless.

  “Grab her!”

  At my mother’s command, the guards in the immediate area closed in on me. I begged my wobbly legs to endure, to run, but they were stone. I was heavy with grief and the weight of what I had done. Sobbing, I dropped my dagger to the floor just as a guard’s powerful hands lifted me to my feet.

  Guards were everywhere. They closed in. I was a flame, and they were the moths.

  I spun in circles, meeting each pair of eyes. I couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t a way out. No possible escape now. But I would not yield. I would go down kicking and screaming until my very last breath.

  “Isabelle?”

  Through my tears, I watched several people come out from the rooms to my left and right. There were councilmen, my aunt and uncle, and even Pyrus. And then there was Ashe. At the sight of him, I began to scream, even when he ordered the guards to release me. If I still had my dagger, there was no telling what my anger would have done.

  “What is this?” Ashe moved to where both my parents stood. My father held his hand over the wound I’d dealt him. My mother watched, her lips pulled thin. They barely acknowledged the prince. “This is wrong.”

  My mother scoffed. “Does it truly matter? Either way, she will be yours.”

  Ashe shook his head helplessly. “Not like this.”

  I thrashed, bucking my legs like a horse. I wouldn’t look at him. I wouldn’t give him that pleasure. “Liar! You had it all planned from the beginning. You pretended to care. You said you were Henry’s friend. You’re nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing!”

  “Isabelle,

  I swear I didn’t know,” Ashe’s voice, staggered, breathless.

  I almost believed him.

  “Enough!”

  My father gestured for the guards to leave. I stood, stiff-kneed, in the center of the great hall, wet with tears and shamed in front of the entire court. Some looked at me with pity while others seemed to be relishing in this noonday entertainment. The only one in my corner was Pyrus, who kept taking steps forward and then back as if battling with himself, deciding whether to intervene. I shook my head at him. I need you. Don’t risk it now.

  My heart pounded fast and loud. Had I been anyone other than who I was, I would have been in the dungeons by then, hands shackled and beaten beyond recognition.

  Had I been anyone else, I would have been dead by dawn.

  When Ashe’s wide, green eyes met mine, I gave a last-ditch effort in hopes that there was a way out of this. I mouthed the words ‘help me’ and to my surprise, he nodded. He bent to my ear and whispered, “I’m going to help you, Izzy. Will you trust me?”

  I wasn’t sure if I should. Henry had always told me that if I had to choose someone to rely on, I should choose myself. But how could I when I had attacked my very own father? And I would be using Ashe to run away with another man. What sort of person was I? Undoubtedly not one my brother would approve of.

  “She agrees,” said Ashe, backing away, but still facing me. “She will be my wife.”

  My father, the King of Mirosa, clapped his hands despite his bleeding arm. “There we have it!”

  Before the last word could be uttered, the doors to the hall opened with a smash. A man stumbled in, a body cradled in his arms like a baby, taking short steps toward us. I recognized the man as the young guard, Aliper, whom Lulu had flirted with on several occasions. The body swayed as he moved, limp, motionless. His muscles weakened, and he bent down. Black hair, the color of crows splayed across half of her face. Nobody moved a muscle.

  I’d recognize the face anywhere because it was my own.

  Chapter 35

  A loud shriek broke the silence.

  The shrieking woman, a maid, dropped whatever she had been holding. It was then that the shock wore off and the room erupted.

  Pyrus rushed over, fighting off my hysterical aunt. She was sobbing as a guard pulled her far enough away for the healer to work. My feet were rooted to the floor, unsure whether the scene before me was truly happening. I held a hand to my mouth and let Ashe cradle me, tight enough so that I couldn’t rush forward. My mother stood with my aunt while my father looked strangely human as he watched with worried eyes. None of this was real. This was a nightmare happening in my own head.

  Pyrus located the wound. A clean cut just above her breast. The blood pooled out with every breath she took. He took the bandages handed to him and wrapped her the best he could. When he stood to face us, the steadiness of his face fell into gloom.

  No. I blinked, trying to block out the red upon the floor. Seeing the girl who had always been my shadow.

  “They cut her heart,” Pyrus said. “It’s a wonder she’s still alive.”

  My aunt and uncle broke free from the guards and fell to their knees beside their daughter. My uncle, always the stoic one, cried out in agony. I had never seen a grown man cry. I wanted to crawl into my bed, sleep, and never wake.

  But I remembered something Lulu had once said. Smile when they think they’ve got you, Izzy. They can’t know that they’ve won.

  Steady streams of tears rolled down my cousin’s cheeks. I had only seen her cry one other time. I had driven the butt of Henry’s dagger into the side of her head. It was an accident. She had surprised me while I had been practicing with it. It had left a pretty nasty bump. That had been my fault, but she never held it against me.
r />   There was no time to cradle this memory. Lulu's eyes went wide, looking at something past me, something I couldn’t see.

  “Izzy, I’m empty.”

  Ashe’s grip relaxed enough for me to surge forward. I knelt beside my cousin and

  brushed away a long sweep of black hair. I caught a glimpse of my emerald necklace, the one Henry had given me. No. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not my Lulu.

  “Don’t talk,” my aunt choked. “Just rest.”

  Lulu turned her head to me, and our eyes met. I leaned down so that my ear was to her lips. My tears fell onto her skin.

  “In the pocket,” she whispered. “I paid the debt.” She swallowed and drew in a breath. “I’m sorry, Izzy.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry. You’re going to be all right, Lu. Just wait and see.”

  I pressed my lips to her forehead. Her skin was cold, her lips drained of all their rosy color. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that it was going to be all right. She knew better than I did that she was dying.

  “Bring her somewhere comfortable!” my uncle cried out. He reached out to shove me away. “We have to get her off this floor. It is no place for her…” To die.

  The room was in such chaos that I had no idea who was pulling at me now. I resisted, wishing I had my dagger to cut them all away.

  Someone’s arm slid under Lulu and went to lift her. “No!” she cried. “Leave me here.”

  It made no sense at first, but then I understood. She didn’t want to waste time when her time was drawing near.

  “It hurt at first, but now I don’t feel anything,” she said. She peered up at the guard cradling her to his chest. He was the very same as she’d always gushed about, and now I wished that I had listened better.

  A deep breath, and I was brought back to when our friendship had broken. I had done it. I had let her go, in anger and hurt. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have fought to keep her in my life. I owed it to her. I owed everything to her. She was beautiful and funny, with a smile that stole away all your sorrows. It rivaled the sun with its glow. I told her that I loved her and begged her forgiveness for how I had wronged her and maybe, maybe…