The Darkest Night

by Catherine Wilson

  Papa rises to his feet, halting me in my path. His blue eyes look up into my own, willing me to hear him out when all I really want is to hug him and make him leave. “Do you ever wonder why I insisted on everyone calling you Brave?” he asks, making my heart seize with the hint of memories from our past. “Your mother named you, but as your protector and your papa, I had a choice. I could call you Penelope, I could call you Brave, or I could call you something else altogether. But on the very first night I held you in my arms, I felt the power of your tiny spirit—the sure will to always fight for what is right. And in that very moment, I knew. I knew that no matter what we chose to call you, you would always rise above. You would always seek the path of justice with your head held high and not a lick of fear humming in your bones. Each and every day I watched you, growing stronger and braver with every step. You see, your worry for me is as misplaced as my worry for you. You are brave, my heart, and in your ways, you’ve taught me to brave as well.”

  “Even when hunted down by a madman?” I sniff, wiping at the tears as they roll down my cheeks. “Perhaps my name should have been deranged instead of brave?”

  A soft chuckle echoes in my mind, and despite the aching waves of sorrow that splash against my chest with every breath, I feel myself begin to relax. Bending down, I settle beside him on the floor, tucking my head under his chin. “I shouldn’t have said I was worried for you, or at least, I should have clarified what I was worried about. My concern is not for your physical being, Brave. I know you will defeat Knox. My concern is for your heart. I understand the predicament we’ve all put you in, and honestly, I’m not sure how to help you find your way out.”

  Releasing a sigh, I pull up from his shoulder, tilting his head toward my own. “As awful as it sounds, sometimes I don’t know if I want to find my way. To tell the truth, I already made my decision long ago, on the very day Aras was taken from my life. He’s my other half, Papa, and I won’t be whole until I’ve given him back his soul. Who knows? Maybe he won’t even want me by then, and we’ll both end up going our separate ways. But I have to try. I have to know. And until then, I can’t give my heart to Ian, because it would always be missing a piece. I can’t lie to him, but I can’t hurt him either. I’m afraid I’ve already done both.”

  “Oh, Brave, you mustn’t worry for Ian. He’s a strong young man, and I have a feeling he knows where your heart lies even better than we do. Ian won’t push you into a marriage that you don’t want, but he also won’t let you run away from a marriage if he thinks that you really do. If it’s written in your stars to become the next queen of Theron, then so it shall be. But if you really want a choice, then your focus must be on Aras and his will.”

  “But what if I can’t help Aras in time?” I ask, dropping my hands and slumping to the floor. “Am I supposed to burn Knox into oblivion and hope that Aras and the rest of his promised goons will look the other way? What if something happens to Vivi or Mother?” I hesitate, looking into his vivid blue eyes, wishing with all of my soul that he were whole and here with me right now. “Or you?”

  A slow breath leaves his nose, and his ears twitch as he takes me in. “We each have our own way of protecting ourselves. When the times comes, we’ll be ready.”

  How very ominous and vague. He better be thankful I’m feeling sorry for him in his cat form, or else my eyes would be rolling with a mind of their own.

  “And what exactly do these protections entail? Mother, I get. Even though she’s half-burned, her magic is still strong enough to hold her own. She won’t let him catch her off guard again. But you? How am I to trust that Knox won’t steal your will from right underneath my nose? Aras always said that he likes to toy with animals, and you know he’ll try to use you against me at the first opportunity he sees. And Vivi? Don’t even get me started on her.”

  Papa has the audacity to chuckle, causing my eyes to narrow at his rising form. Carefully, as if he thinks I’m the one who could bite, he nudges my side, melting some of my heat with the coolness of his nose. “You’re right. Ingrid can stand her own against anyone, and you know I couldn’t talk her into leaving even if that wasn’t so. As for me, I have my own tricks hiding away in this ebony fur. I’ve been working on steeling my mind and blocking it from your own.”

  My head pops back with surprise. “You’ve been blocking me?”

  “Since the very day you arrived,” he states. “Why else did you think I’d grown so quiet?”

  I frown, thinking back on every interaction we’ve had since I’ve arrived. Yes, he was certainly quiet, but I thought that might have been because his one true love had been burned and his fake daughter was about to face down the lunatic who did it. “I assumed you were a little rattled. I never once thought you might be doing it on purpose.” I cross my arms, tilting my chin to meet his amusing calm. “Actually, I find I’m a little off-put by your actions. The least you could have done was tell me that you were performing an experiment. It would have saved me a lot of worry over your poor feline soul. Plus, you’ve yet to give me a solid reason for Vivi to stay behind in all this mess. If your goal was to turn her into an experienced archer overnight, then I hate to be the one to disappoint.”

  In answer, Papa’s tail flicks wide again, and he stretches his back as plops down beside me. “Vivi seems to be the most determined of us all—tiny, but full of a roaring power that even a true fire couldn’t touch. I suspect we’re lucky she was the second born. I’d be scared for us all if the magic had been passed through her blood.”

  “You and me both.” I laugh, turning to watch my sister as she jokes with our mother, pointing out over the faraway streets of Theron, probably telling wild stories that I’m sure are best for only their ears.

  “But just because she is without magic does not mean she is without skill. Vivi has her place here, but we must show her what it is. I think it would be a good start to teach her how to get a better handle on her dagger.”

  “Her dagger?” I balk, whipping back to his gaze. “How did you know about that?”

  Truth be told, I had forgotten about it myself. A big mistake on my part, considering the potential damage that may swing freely from her grip. I’ve got to be a better big sister, and by better, I mean recognizing all the possible threats my sister holds on the innocents of Theron.

  “How did I know about it? Any person, or cat for that matter, could see her awkward gait for what it is—a dagger stuck haphazardly in her boot. I’m amazed she hasn’t tripped with the way she favors her left foot. At this point, it’s more dangerous for her not to know how to use it than it is for her to be prepared.”

  “And you think I should be the one to teach her,” I say, turning to watch as Vivi moves about the balcony, favoring her left boot with a little skip.

  Oh, Ashen help us. We’re lucky she hasn’t already stabbed a toe.

  “Who would be better?” He rises to his feet and pads toward the glass doors. “But if you really want her to be safe, perhaps you should consider lending her your own.”

  “You want me to teach her to wield my poisoned dagger?” I shriek, popping my hand across my mouth.

  Papa growls at my choice of words, and I can’t help the small giggle that escapes through my fingers at what I’ve done.

  Somewhere across that forsaken sea of trees, I’ve made my aunt Darcy proud.

  “I want you to teach her to wield a powerful weapon that gives her the chance to flee with every cut. It’s why I made it for you so very long ago, but you, my heart, have your own way of protecting yourself now.”

  I sigh, watching him prod past Vivi as she opens the glass door and marches into the room. “What was all that yelling about?” she asks, squinting her eyes as she spots me on the floor.

  “Something exciting, that’s what,” I say, jumping to my feet and swiping my dagger from my boot. “It seems we have some practicing to do before our father arrives. I’ll work on my fire, and you’ll work on this.” I toss the dagger up in the air, compl
etely unfazed when her hand reaches out, snatching the hilt with expert speed.

  She is my little sister after all.

  Thirty-Three

  Our first week in Theron passes surprisingly fast, considering we’re still holed up behind the palace’s fancy walls and kept on a polite, but careful leash. The betrothal, while still on, has yet to be announced. Although his parents haven’t said a word, I know this has everything to do with Ian. He wants to make sure I’m ready, but a part of me also knows he hopes I’ll actually see it through to the end. He knows that making our engagement official and parading it in front of his people will hurt me more when I know it all to be a ruse.

  As odd as it seems, it only makes the thought of turning him down in the near future seem that much harder. Perhaps Ian is even smarter than I think.

  Aras, the wily beast, remains as prickly as ever. He’s been peculiarly silent since our standoff in the halls so long ago, and for some reason, this serves to rile me more than his smart mouth ever could. Other than keeping a constant eye on my whereabouts, he acts as if he cares nothing for me or the kind prince who is always by my side. Sometimes at night, when I’m feeling particularly moody, I slip through the door in our wall and march into his chambers, as if I have all the confidence that a fire-throwing princess should possess. Each and every time, I find him lounging across his chaise, fire licking from his fingers and casting shadows across his face in the dark. I wait for him to acknowledge me, but he acts as if his fire is the only thing his eyes can see.

  I’m beginning to worry it is.

  When I finally build up the nerve to approach, I always ask: Any news from Knox?

  And his answer is always the same: Not a word.

  Then I leave him, my back bumping into that same awful place in the wall, afraid if I look away, the fire will consume him while I’m gone. When I make it back to my bed, Vivi rolls over, a silent question shining in her sleepy eyes. I shake my head, and as with every other night, we fall into a fitful sleep.

  If there can be one positive from our time here, it’s that Mother is healing more and more with each day. She’s no longer content to be confined to her chambers, instead adventuring out into the never-ending halls with Papa always at her heels. Even our sweet Sireen has seemed to relax a little, sometimes letting her hair down from her tight buns and daring to call us by our first names. Actually, it’s Sireen who calls out to us now from our balcony as we practice throwing daggers in the privacy of our courtyard.

  Well, I say privacy for Vivi’s sake, but what I really mean is safety for any poor soul who may accidently stumble upon a flame-throwing princess and her loose-fingered sister.

  “Brave! Vivi!” she yells, causing Vivi to lose her focus and miss her round target by several feet. A laugh bubbles in my throat, but it stops short when I see the look of utter irritation that lines her face. Vivi, it seems, is not amused.

  “Of all times for you to choose to call me by my actual name, it’s when I have a very important dagger wrapped in my grip. Who knows? I could have missed my target and accidentally put some innocent passerby to sleep.”

  Sireen’s eyes widen at Vivi’s words, and her gaze flits toward the bruised bushes and back to our target. “I didn’t mean to intrude, Vivi, but I was wondering if you two have heard anything about the slight commotion that seems to be happening out in the training yard. I saw Tolan in the hall and though he assured me it was nothing to worry about, I thought I might better pass the news along to you.”

  “What kind of commotion?” I ask, shielding my eyes to look up at her through the blinding sun.

  “Oh, a practice of sorts.” She hesitates, trying to form her words in the calmest way she knows how, but I’m already on the move. “Between Prince Ian and Aras.”

  “A practice?” Vivi calls out to my retreating back, confusion lining her voice. “What kind of practice?”

  “One that involves some sort of weaponry, I believe,” Sireen relays as if she’s discussing the weather and not the beginnings to the story of how our Aras lost his hand in a crazed duel with my suitor.

  “Skies above, Sireen! Why didn’t you say so?” Vivi stomps into the bushes, retrieving my dagger. “And you better not run off without me, Brave. If what she says is true, then both of those boys are going to need a talking to, and we’re the sisters to do it!”

  “Oh, I know,” I agree, tapping my foot by the open palace doors. “I can only hope we’re not too late.”

  ↄ

  The training yard is abuzz by the time we arrive. Bodies packed in and spread out as far as the eye can see. It’s as if every guard in Theron has shown up to witness some grand event. Something that only happens once in a lifetime. And I can’t help but think that it is.

  A true prince battling a pretend one.

  “What is this?” Vivi asks, grabbing onto my elbow to keep from being knocked down in the growing crowd.

  Voices shout and cheer around us, calling for the prince, while others jokingly yell out for the Orien guard. An awful mixture of sweat and adrenaline weighs down heavy over the masses, causing us to both gag and choke while we squeeze our way through the wall of bodies. Out of nowhere, a young boy appears beside us, the very one who took such an interest in Vivi on the day of her archery adventure. He looks at me, all bright-eyed and shiny-skinned, and despite the strangeness of it all, I can’t help but trust his steady gaze.

  “Don’t worry, Princess,” he says, taking my free arm. “I’ll get you through.” Without waiting for a response, he turns to the crowd in front of us, voice surprisingly loud and true. “Make way! I said, let us through! The princesses of Orien have come to watch our prince!”

  Like a magic all of his own, the sea of men turn at his voice, making a pathway clear to the center of the yard. “That was impressive,” I admit.

  He tips his head, all business and no mess. Then, sneaking one last look at Vivi, who for once in her life, seems totally out of her wits, he takes off into the crowd like a thief in the night.

  “Wait a minute! Is that…” Vivi’s eyes wrinkle with strain as she peers through the open pathway, no doubt spying the same roped platform and the dueling fools inside. “Please tell me my eyesight is horrible and those two brutes aren’t holding swords in their hands.” She whips her chin in my direction, tugging on my arm. “Brave! I said to insult my eyesight!”

  “I wish I could, sister,” I call over the shifting crowd, worried they’ll slide back together and we won’t get through. “Unfortunately, your vision is just fine.”

  After I latch onto her hand, we take off at a sprint, almost tripping with each rough shoulder we bang against. The men who surround us seem to take note of our frantic breaths and crazed eyes, now more intent on watching the newest attraction arrive to the show—the two little women with more fury than the measure of their weight.

  As we burst through the edge of the crowd, our boots skid against the dirt—the commotion causing large plumes of dust to rise up and settle across our backs like an elegant pair of rust-colored wings. Ian, always the observant one, is the first to see us. Or at least, he’s the first to admit it.

  “Why, hello, ladies.” Ian grins, as if his perfect, white teeth could fool us like some sort of mirage in the devil’s heat. Sweat trails down his pale cheeks, and his normally combed hair sticks out in damp clumps around his head. His white tunic shows signs of wear, the most obvious being a rather large stain of dirt that coats his backside.

  Not that I care to look.

  “Come to watch me defend your honor?”

  Vivi snarls, but Aras does her one better. “What honor?” he jokes, meeting my gaze for the first time in days. Most of his dark hair curls toward the heavens, while those few fateful strands lie in a sweaty mess across his brow. His lazy grin teases at his dimple, and for an agonizing second, I’m taken back to a very different time when this boy first met me in the woods. My heart begins to race, bringing a whole new kind of heat to my face, and though I thin
k I should be angry, I’m not.

  “No,” he continues, amusement lining his tone as he takes in my traitorous flush. “I think the Poisoned Dagger Sisters have come to show us up.”

  “Watch it, you big oaf! I knew you were spying on us during our practices.” Vivi pops her hand on her hip and steps out as if she intends to swipe him with said dagger. I catch her arm, pulling her back to my side, but the motion does nothing for her tongue. “Perhaps you’d like to be my newest target.”

  Aras swaggers forward, though whether from exhaustion or arrogance, it’s hard to tell. “Considering you’ve never hit one, I’d be glad to.”

  This time, Vivi does reach for her dagger, and it takes all of Ian’s strength to pry it from her hands and slip it in his boot. Vivi steams like a pile of coals left unchecked on a fire, and even Ian makes the wise decision to step back. But not Aras; he’s intent on rattling me.

  “What do you say, Penelope Brave?” He raises his sword, sliding it dangerously close to my neck as he uses the blade to flip my braid over my shoulder. “Do you want to have a go?”

  My boots shuffle forward on the dusty, wooden floor, and I hold out my palm until it rests right under his chin. A soft flame blooms across my fingertips, creating a wave of heat against his skin. The roaring crowd around us comes to a hush, and Aras’ smug expression falters as he stands within my grasp. Leaning forward, I will the flame to curl back into my palm, extinguishing its orange tail with a loud clap. And because I’ve always been one for honesty, I answer his question with a delicate whisper against his ear. “More than you know.”

  Aras’ jaw skews, and his lips form a thin line. Heat bubbles off his body in waves, anger hitting my chest hard and true. He backs away without another glance, eyes now set on his real opponent, but unfortunately for him, I’ve already caught the light shade of pink tipping his olive ears.