A Touch of Gold

by Annie Sullivan

  “I can handle the gold now,” I say, rising from my father’s side. “We can fight against Ralton.”

  “I had Archduke Ralton executed this morning for his role in your kidnapping.”

  I shake my head confused. “I wasn’t kidnapped.”

  “As far as anyone else is concerned, you were, resulting in a battle here in our very own harbor.” He points out the windows to where the armada is still visible. “Fortunately, the pirates were caught and are on their way to the dungeon now.”

  A scuffle sounds in the hallway outside the door. I hear Royce yell something about not going anywhere without me, but I can’t make out the rest of what’s said.

  “No.” I shake my head—he isn’t making any sense.

  “Unfortunately, my men were too late to save our dear princess. And your poor father died out of grief. Don’t worry. I’ll give you both a moving eulogy.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “You . . . you ordered the armada to fire on the Swanflight?”

  He shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. “It’s time Lagonia had a real king.”

  My mind’s reeling. “He’s your brother. You’ve taken care of him all these years.”

  “After years of watching him waste away and ruin this country, I couldn’t take it any longer,” Uncle Pheus says. “Then when I heard that fool Ralton was trying to raise an army, I couldn’t let him take it away from me. I had to secure the monarchy. I had it all planned out. The gold would fade away and so would my brother.”

  “I thought you cared about Lagonia, about my father,” I say, shocked that he could have deceived me for so long.

  “That Oracle got it wrong. It should’ve been me from the very beginning. I didn’t even think Midas would make it out of those mountains with that stupid donkey. I was going to start a new life on my own, but they went and made him king.”

  I stare at my uncle as though I’m seeing him for the first time.

  “He’s a shadow. He’s my shadow,” he continues. “I’ve been the real king for years. It’s time to make it official in name.”

  I race toward the door. Pheus makes no move to stop me. I pull on the handles. The door doesn’t budge. My next thought is that I need a weapon, so I hurry over to the chest that holds the gold; but it’s locked.

  “You really don’t have a fear of gold now, do you?” Pheus grabs the chest. He hefts it up and tosses it through the window. The chest skids across the broken glass out onto the balcony and crashes into the low stone railing already decayed from years of disuse. Shards of stone crumble down on top of the chest as it comes to a stop.

  “No,” I scream.

  “I wouldn’t let that out of my sight,” Pheus says, pointing out the window toward the chest. “What do you think would happen if it fell off the balcony? All that broken and chipped gold. Maybe all that damage will be enough to send your father over the edge. Too bad it didn’t happen the first time I had someone steal it.”

  I look at the pale form of my father unmoving in his chair. Another blow to the gold might be too much for him to withstand.

  Anger swells up inside me, fueling my words. “I can’t believe you let those thieves into the palace.” I try to keep him talking while I come up with a plan of my own, but everything in the room is too big or too useless to use as a weapon.

  He laughs. “It was almost too easy. When I interrogated Duke Wystlinos about the treaty and his involvement with Captain Skulls, he broke after less than a day. I knew not executing him would indebt him to me. Of course, after I learned about your connection to the gold, I ordered him to kill you at sea, but he must’ve gotten it in his head to see what you could do. Same as that greedy pirate. I instructed him to leave all the gold with the Temptresses of Triton in exchange for my armada leaving him alone for a time. But I’d already assumed he would end up being greedy. I just figured as long as the gold was gone, that was good enough. All I wasn’t counting on was you.

  “You were too weak to pose a threat to my rule, but your ability to sense the gold ruined my original plan. I would have shipped you off to some secluded location where no one would know to look for you.” He produces a knife with a big ruby on its hilt from beneath his jacket. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’ve left me no other choice.”

  I stare at him openmouthed. How can this be happening? I trusted him. My insides feel like they’ve been turned to gold. “You . . . you wouldn’t,” I stammer.

  He glares at me. “At least you managed not to turn Captain Royce to gold, so I’ll still have someone to pin your murder on.”

  I take jagged breaths as I stagger back around the table so we’re on opposite sides. “Just let us go. You don’t need us. You have the throne.”

  He shakes his head. “I have to explain the battle in the harbor somehow, and I won’t spend my reign looking over my shoulder, waiting for you to return. I’m sorry, Kora, but this is how it has to end now.” His jaw clenches as he tightens his grip on his knife. It’s the same resolute look he always wears when his mind is made up.

  I swallow and edge toward my father, my heartbeat thudding in my chest. I need to get him out of here—now—and for that, I still need a plan. I stall for time. “I’m surprised you’re not like the rest of them,” I say, “wanting to lock me away so I can turn anything you want to gold.”

  Pheus matches me step for step across the table.

  My eyes dart to the balcony door. I hate that I’m leading him closer to my father, but I need to secure that gold. And as bulky as the chest is, it might act as a shield.

  And if I can get to the balcony, someone might hear my cries for help.

  My father mumbles and opens his eyes at my approach. A hazy fog clouds his eyes.

  “Money makes men weak,” Pheus says. “I’m not looking for unlimited wealth. I’ll settle for the kingdom. I don’t need gold that’s destroyed everyone who’s touched it, like that poor guard you condemned to die in the tower. He went crazy after what you did to him. You’re a murderer, Kora, you’re not any different than I am.”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “That man drowned himself because of you.”

  It doesn’t make any sense. I’d turned other people to gold and none of them had suffered such severe side effects. “You’re lying.”

  “Am I? Or is that what you want to believe?” He takes several steps to keep in line with me.

  “The gold doesn’t do that to people. I know now what it can and can’t do.” It’s not entirely true. But I know enough to know that turning him to gold for a few short seconds shouldn’t have had that effect.

  Pheus softly laughs. “Well, then you caught me. I killed him.” He shrugs, like this admission carries no guilt, no remorse. “We would’ve lost the throne if he’d gone running around telling the world what kind of monster my niece was. I had to do it to protect us.”

  “You did it to protect yourself.” I take a few more steps, keeping both him and the balcony door in sight. “There’ll be no one protecting you when the kingdom learns what you’ve done.” I’m nearing the end of the table. Then it’s only a few feet of open space to the balcony door.

  “That’s why they’re not going to find out.”

  The door to the room rattles. “Kora,” a voice calls from the other side. “Kora, are you all right?” It’s Royce.

  I want to call out to him, but I make a better use of his distraction. I run to the balcony doors and throw them open, racing for the gold.

  A strong wind tugs at me, promising to steal my pleas for help. Below, buildings and streets form a maze all the way to the ocean. It’s dizzying. I focus on the chest, grabbing it quickly and hoisting it up. All my effort goes into keeping the chest aloft, especially when the cut on my arm starts to ache. I turn back toward the doorway, but Pheus is there, blocking my escape.

  “You’ll never be king,” I spit. I’m trying to draw him out, get him away from my father for as long as possible.

  His knife gl
ints as he moves closer.

  Knowing I can’t hold the chest much longer or dodge his attacks under its weight, I hurl the chest at his head.

  He ducks out of the way, and the chest sails through the doorway, smashing into a chair inside.

  “You just threw away your only weapon,” he says. “You never did have a head for strategy.”

  I charge at him. I try to wrestle the knife from him, but his other hand streaks out, grabbing my arm right where Captain Skulls sliced it.

  I cry out. My knees buckle.

  “One should always kneel before their king.” He digs his fingers into the cut.

  I try to get at least one of my legs around to kick him with, but he yanks down on my arm.

  He points his knife between my collarbones. But before he can bury the blade in my throat, the pressure disappears from my arm as Pheus crashes to the ground at my feet. His knife goes sputtering across the balcony, and my first thought is that Royce has come to save me.

  But it’s not Royce towering over the figure of my uncle.

  It’s my father.

  Somehow he’s found the strength to stand. His hands are wrapped around the broken seat of a chair, and he pants with the effort it takes to remain upright. His hunched shoulders pull him closer to the ground, and I catch him in my arms as I stand. He’s lost so much weight that he’s not hard to hold.

  He drops the splintered chair fragment. “Pheus told me you were dead,” he says. He pulls me to his chest and wraps his arms around me as best he can. “I knew you weren’t.”

  His scraggly beard scratches my forehead.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says. “All these years I thought I was doing you a favor by staying away where I couldn’t hurt you anymore. This is all my fault.” Tears splash down on my hair.

  They’re mirrored by my own tears. I swallow a lump in my throat. “Let’s get you back inside where you can rest,” I say. “There will be time for talking later.” I prop my good arm under his shoulder as we move toward the door.

  I hear something behind me. I turn just in time to see Pheus rise, blood running from the side of his face, as he picks up his knife.

  “You never should’ve been king,” he shouts, brandishing his weapon. “It always should have been me.” He lumbers toward us.

  I shove my father inside, and he lands on all fours inside the room. Then I duck as Pheus swipes his knife at me.

  Wind whips at my dress as I stumble across the balcony for the chair fragment. I bring it up just in time to stop Pheus’s dagger from digging into me. The metal rips through the wood, embedding itself.

  Pheus fights to get his dagger free, but I keep my grip on the chair seat. Pheus uses that to his advantage and whips me around. We stumble toward the edge. He yanks back again, trying to free the knife, but it doesn’t budge. Pheus switches tactics, using all his strength to drive the knife forward instead and sending me reeling backward to keep the blade from plunging farther through the wood and into my chest. The crumbling railing rears up. I cry out, but Pheus doesn’t stop his mad drive. I barely register crashing into the low railing before his momentum carries us over in a cloud of broken stone. The world reels as we tumble over the ledge, and I lose my grip on the chair fragment.

  I scramble for anything to hang on to. I catch one hand on the bottom of the remaining balcony railing and cry out as my arm jerks my body to a stop.

  The wind takes Pheus’s screams as he falls.

  My arm burns, my fingers slip, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to look down. I kick my legs against the slanted bottom of the balcony, feeling for some fragment to stabilize myself on. There’s nothing. The wind readies itself to surge up and claim me too. It makes my legs sway like the headless bodies I’d seen on the Island of Lost Souls, and I struggle to keep my grip.

  My fingers cramp up, and I realize the longer I hang here, the more strength I waste.

  “Kora?” my father’s voice filters out to me. “Where are you?”

  His voice is the push I need.

  I swing my other arm around and grab the balcony. I claw my way upward. Fire flashes through every inch of my arm, and all I can hear is the rushing of my blood as it courses through me.

  Rough rock scrapes against my already scarred hands, and pebbles dig into my flesh. I get a hand wrapped around the top and cry out as I heave myself upward.

  I crawl onto the balcony just as the door at the other end of the room splinters open and Royce bursts in. He rushes toward me, sweeping me into his arms. When he’s set me firmly on the ground, I melt against him, letting his strength be enough for both of us.

  Behind him, Rhat helps my father into a chair.

  “Are you all right?” Royce asks. I can feel his heart pounding beneath his chest.

  I nod, still shaking from the combination of hanging from the balcony and learning that my uncle has betrayed us all.

  “I was so worried I’d lost you.” Gently, he tilts my chin up. He leans forward, brushing his lips against mine. And unlike when I’d turned him to gold, he doesn’t freeze at my touch. The way his lips press against me sends sparks flying around inside my body, almost as if I’d absorbed gold. Except this feels pure. This feels right.

  All the coldness that the gold’s brought to my life over the years has melted away, replaced by the heat left behind by being in Royce’s arms.

  Royce pulls away. His eyes open slowly. They find mine. He stares down at me and smiles.

  “Well, that went better than last time,” he says.

  Despite everything that just happened, I smile back.

  I spot the chest of gold sitting in a pile of broken wood, and behind it, the smashed door rests askew on its bottom hinge.

  So many things have been broken. But now that I’m home, they can finally be repaired.

  Behind Royce, Hettie enters the room. Her cheeks are flushed. She sheathes her sword and tries to tame the hairs that have fallen out of place during the scuffle in the hallway. The sword looks at home on her hip now, and I wonder if she’ll ever take it off.

  “Hettie . . .” I start to say.

  “Don’t.” She holds up a hand. She blinks rapidly, fighting back tears. “I heard most of it, but I just had to know if . . .” Her voice cracks when she sees the empty balcony. She doesn’t finish her sentence. Slowly, she backtracks through the room. She doesn’t start running until she’s out in the hallway.

  Guilt flashes through me. I want to follow her, to comfort her, but I’m not sure she’ll want to see me right now. I would’ve saved her father if I could have, and I know Hettie will recognize that. But I also know she’ll need time to grieve, even for a father she claimed never loved her. So, although it tears me up inside not to go, I let Rhat be the one to rush after her. If there’s anyone that can help her through this, it’s him.

  Sighing, I turn my attention back to my father.

  Royce helps him over to me.

  “Thank you,” my father says to Royce. He gives me another long hug.

  The three of us stand there looking out over the balcony. I squeeze Royce’s hand and wrap my other arm around my father to help support him.

  He’s going to need all the support he can get in the coming months while he regains his strength. But I’ll be there for him—and for Hettie. I’ll be the princess I always should’ve been. United, we’ll put the kingdom back together. We’ll put our lives back together. We’ll find a way to forget about the past.

  And as the salty breeze drifts in, calling out to me, I know I’ll answer that call—because as soon as things get back to normal, I’ll set out to find a way to cleanse the cursed objects. I’ll find a way to get rid of the power The Touch still has over me and my father once and for all.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, I have to thank and give all praise and glory to God, Jesus, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and the angels and Saints, without whom I wouldn’t be here today.

  Thank you to my amazing family—Dad (J
ohn), Mom (Meg), Katie, Patrick, Michael S., Danny, John, Maggie, Michael K., and Mittens—for always being there for me and making me who I am today. I love you all!

  Special shout-out to my parents, who allowed me to dream and who have supported me through everything. To my dad for always supporting me and for inspiring me to travel the world, and to my mom for reading me so many fairy tales when I was a child. I wouldn’t have the imagination I do without you. SWAK!

  To my wonderful, loving, amazing sister, Katie, who gets her own separate paragraph for reading every single draft, for brainstorming with me, and for all those nights she stayed up super late to read. You’re always my first reader, and I know I can always count on you to tell it like it is . . . and to find my silly mistakes.

  Also, thanks to my extended family for your support! And to my niece and nephews for keeping me young. Your EE loves you!

  Thank you to my agent extraordinaire, Christa Heschke. You took a chance on me, and I can’t wait for our journey to continue together! I love your editorial eye and all you do to make my stories shine.

  To my AMAZING editor, Jillian Manning. This book wouldn’t be what it is without you. Your insights and ideas brought new life to it, and I’m so happy that I got to work with you.

  To everyone at Blink—Hannah VanVels (thanks for your great and entertaining comments!), Jacque Alberta (what would I do without your eagle eyes???), Ron Huizinga, Marcus Drenth, Annette Bourland, and Sara Merritt. Your team made publishing my book such a seamless process.

  To my amazing critique partner, Liz Osisek, who read countless drafts and other materials every hour of the day when I needed her to. I couldn’t have done this without you and your insights. You dropped everything to help me, and I can’t wait to do the same for you. I owe you more ice cream than you could ever eat.

  Also, thank you to fellow writers and authors Jessica Fair-Owens and Triona Murphy for reading early drafts. You girls rock! Also to amazing fellow authors John Green, Dee Romito, Brenda Drake, Sarah Glenn Marsh, Emily R. King, Wendy Higgens, Ashley Poston, Elly Blake, Summer Heacock, Sarah Cannon, and Sarah Schmitt, who shared wisdom, advice, and friendship with me. Also to Jean Heck, Gavin Cahill, Gail Werner, Rebekah Snyder, Cathy Shouse, Whitney Eklof, Ashley Hearn, Bethany Robison, and Carla Luna Cullen for sharing their advice and friendship over the years.