Illusionary

by Zoraida Cordova

  “As opposed to half-honest?”

  She flashes a crooked smile. “Precisely. I was afraid the prince might’ve remembered me from when we were children. I’ve been told I look the same as when I was a girl, but you know how princes easily forget.”

  “Do you want him to remember you?” I ask. A bizarre irritation scrapes in my chest.

  Leyre quirks her eyebrow. “You jealous, Robári?”

  “No,” I grit through my teeth.

  She laughs and I want to shove her off that ledge. But after seeing the way the Whispers moved, so unified, so ruthless, I know that we need all the help we can get.

  “That doesn’t explain how you knew to follow me,” Leo says, rubbing his arms. I wonder if he feels guilty for having led her to us.

  “I broke into Castian’s apartments to see if he’d left behind a trace I could follow. That is when you and Lady Nuria came in. Surely you thought no one would dare enter the prince’s private quarters, and it would have been a safe place to have your conspiratorial meeting if I hadn’t already been there.”

  I glance up at Castian. “Can anyone break into your rooms?”

  “Ah, but Nuria used a key,” Leyre says, and winks at Castian. “Out with it, Leyre,” he presses. “In the imperial navy we’re taught to trust our bodies. Our senses. Soldiers who know themselves have impeccable instincts. Mine said to follow Leo. And today, it was by the Great Tortuga that as I was following you to the dock, Renata was detained by that dashing Moria commander.”

  “You learned all that in your obligated military service?” Castian sneers.

  “At least we aren’t drafted at eleven,” Leyre counters harshly. “We serve our sixteenth year in a division of the military, and then the empress grants us a boon to start a life or continue in the service. But do you know how many wars we’re fighting? None. Unlike you Leonesse, arming children barely strong enough to wield a sword. So yes, I learned all that at the academy, and I managed to track you down. Don’t forget, where I’m from, you’re not my prince.”

  Castian is silent, his glare homed in on Leyre in a way I’ve never seen before. I imagine no one has spoken to him this way in his life. His anger and embarrassment pass quickly, and then he nods. “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Leyre asks, and I realize she means me. I can’t move.

  I feel as if all sound has gone from the world for a moment before it comes rushing back again.

  “Ren!” Leo yells, catching me before I hit the deck.

  On the horizon, I see a fleet of ships flying brilliant purple-and-gold flags. Cannons rip the sky apart, iron and steel cracking the hull of enemy ships.

  “We’re being attacked!” I try to scream. I can’t even raise my hand. My bones have turned to molten metal. I scream once more as a cannonball flies across the waters right at my head. It must be a memory, but it feels more real than ever.

  I try to scream again, but my voice wheezes in starts and stops. A terrible, painful heat spreads from my chest to my spine. Castian takes me from Leo and carries me.

  “Captain’s quarters,” he says, walking to the rear of the ship.

  We’re through a door, and I’m set on a mattress. Hands press against my face.

  “She’s burning up,” Leo whispers.

  “I can help,” Leyre demands.

  “You go drop anchor.”

  I float in total blackness until pain returns to my temples and remains there. The Gray. The occurrences. Cebrián. All of it has pushed me to a precipice, and if I take the jump, perhaps the pain will stop.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Castian says, his voice unsteady. I want to reach for him, but my body feels weighted down. “What do I do?”

  “I don’t know!”

  I can’t answer them. I am trapped in the Gray, a cage of my own making. As I fall into the memory, the room slips away until there is nothing but cannon fire and sinking ships.

  When I was a little girl, I was afraid of the sea.

  But here I am on the deck of the Siren’s Wrath, and I cannot imagine a better place to secure the future and peace of my people. Gunpowder and smoke fill the air, a gray haze parts to reveal the sinking galleons of the Icelandian invaders. Soldiers keep attempting to load cannons, only to be crushed by their steel, then dragged through splintered decks into the open mouth of the Aeste Ocean. A few terrified souls accept surrender in exchange for their survival. Looking out into this great sea, so blue, so cold, I fear I would do the same.

  “Princess Galatea,” he says, ever the picture of propriety. Fernando stands the six paces of distance required by his Leonesse customs. There’s blood on his face, a scar marring his beauty. Though it is his first battle scar, he fought with the fury of his lion blood. The dark oceans of his eyes watch me with an intensity that leaves me both anchored and a little afraid. I have never been loved this way. I have never loved this way.

  “Are you pleased with your victory?” he asks.

  “I am. The kingdoms of Memoria and Puerto Leones have much to celebrate. I have a gift for you.”

  “You have already given me everything I ever dreamed, and more,” he whispers, though his obsidian eyes brighten as I reach for my belt. The ceremonial dagger is encrusted with glittering sapphires. All Moria royals wear a blade like this in honor of the Lady of Shadows. It is a small gift for a future king, but I am pleased with how he accepts it and holds it against his chest.

  “Come, my love,” he tells me. “We are going to change the world.”

  In the chaos of battle, he glances around. He smiles, the secret one he reserves only for me. I grab hold of his chain-mail collar, and he wraps his hands around my waist. The glow of my alman stone washes his face in ethereal light. He traces a thumb along the pearlescent marks that curl along my neck.

  When we kiss, we become the fire and the sea.

  “REN.” CASTIAN’S VOICE LEADS ME OUT OF THE OCCURRENCE, BUT THE MAN IN front of me is King Fernando, as young as he was in that memory. A memory that I shouldn’t have. A memory that shouldn’t exist.

  “I hate you,” I tell him.

  “I know,” King Fernando whispers.

  I close my eyes for a moment and fall into the black void. How many more of these occurrences can I withstand? I do not regret leaving Dez and the Whispers behind, but I wonder if one among them might have some idea as to what is happening to me. I refuse to believe that what I have witnessed is a memory. How can it be? That girl—that princess—was a Robári. The alman stone emblazoned on her armor was in the shape of a peregrine falcon—sacred to the Lady of Shadows—and there were marks on her skin. They were different from mine, but I am certain they were Robári scars. And she was embracing a young Fernando, kissing him. Even if I did dream, how could I ever imagine that? I haven’t pulled any memories since the tax collectors, and besides, that memory was hers. I’ve never drawn from Memoria royalty… have I? I try to remember what the elders taught us of the old monarchs before they fell to Puerto Leones, but the names are lost to time.

  A shiver racks my body, and the ocean’s every ripple brings a deep uneasiness to my stomach. I crawl out of bed, but my legs won’t hold me up. I knock over the glass at my bedside, and it shatters. Leo rushes in, breathing hard, then scoops me up and tucks me back under the covers. The world is spinning so much that even when I shut my eyes, the dark whirls.

  “Drink,” he says roughly.

  It is so unlike him that I summon all my strength to sit up. Here in his presence, I allow myself to be weak in a way I can’t with Castian. Leo, after all, has seen me at some of my worst moments.

  “You’re the reason I survived in the palace,” I confess.

  He smirks, but his worry makes him quiet. He cups the back of my head, helping to steady me. Instead of water, he pours brown liquid from a green glass bottle onto a large spoon. The silver is cold on my chapped lips, and I grimace at the bitter, oily taste of the elixir. I have to tell him about my dream, but instead, I rem
ember being a little girl, sick with a fever that ravaged the village. My mother made a concoction of bitter berries, mushrooms, and lemon peel. Just like then, I almost spit it out. Just like then, the liquid is forced into my mouth.

  “What is that?” I lick my dry lips. “It tastes disgusting.”

  Leo stoppers the bottle and sets it on the bedside table. For the first time I notice the red and gold decadence of the captain’s quarters. Past Leo, the window shows a gray sky and a smattering of rain. The elixir warms its way through me, calming the anxiety in my gut. Even my muscles unwind, and for the first time I feel how soft the bed is.

  Leo takes a seat beside me. He’s quiet, and I wonder if he is sorry he ever followed Castian and me. His catlike green eyes blink rapidly, and a sad smile quirks at his lips. He finds clean cloth and soaks it in cold water, placing it across my feverish forehead and throat.

  I hold his hand against my cheek. “Thank you.”

  He lets go of my grasp and busies himself sweeping the broken glass off the floor. His tread is heavier than usual.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say, and move the cold compress to the back of my neck where needles of pain still dig into my skull. “Whatever that miracle elixir was, I feel better. I have to go talk to Castian. I have to tell him something.”

  He looks up, startled for a moment, almost terrified. ”Now?”

  I rub my hands across my face. “I know what you’re going to say. That I’m lying to myself. That it wouldn’t be so terrible to… want him. Sometimes I do, and it does feel like the worst thing. Castian is just so…” I trail off, unsure of what I want to say. I have to tell Castian about what I’ve seen, but the occurrence seems to be overwhelming everything and Castian is on the surface. Leo stands there with held breath. “Part of me still loves the boy I knew.”

  He looks away, and I don’t know whether it’s my bleary eyes, but I think he’s blushing. He pushes the broken glass into a corner.

  “Cas is wrapped in my worst memories. He’s so beautiful and so terrible. I don’t know how to reconcile those two people, and it scares me. He’s done awful things. But so have I. Being with him these few weeks makes me feel different. Better. And yet I want to hate him because I hate myself, even still. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I wish…”

  Leo stands in front of me and brushes a damp strand of hair from my face. His voice is strangled, soft beneath the distant roll of thunder. “What?”

  “I wish I had let Cebrián rip out every one of my memories because then I could start over.”

  I don’t want him to see me this way, so I get out of bed. Every moment my mind is clear is an opportunity I can’t miss, and we have an island to get to. “Tell the others I’m better. I’ll be right out.”

  Leo hurries out the door. I yank on my boots and pull my hair into a single long braid. Thunder and lightning rattle the ship. When I stagger onto the deck, the rain has turned into a storm.

  When I was a little girl, I was afraid of the sea.

  The familiar words echo through my mind as I stare at the approaching black clouds. There is little difference between being out here and being back on land. They are simply two different kinds of storms, both terrible and ready to sweep us under.

  “It’s coming in too fast,” Castian shouts over the wind. He runs across the tilting ship with sure-footed balance and takes his place at the helm while hollering commands. “Leyre, help him reef the sail!”

  “We can’t!” Leyre braces herself against the side of the ship holding a rope.

  “It’s our only way out of this!” Castian struggles with the wheel, straining to turn the cataval ship. “If we run downwind, we’re done for.”

  For a moment, there is only the downpour and the scream of a gale force I’ve never experienced before. Surrounded by clouds and waves, I remember my memory of the sinking ships. Castian’s hair is matted to his face, rain streaming over his parted mouth. An understanding seems to pass between Cas and Leyre. Then he lets go of the wheel. “Do it! Dropping anchor!”

  “Stowing the sail!” Leyre releases the rope. It hoists her in the air, and she screams, not out of fear but sheer delight. Castian runs to help her, and together they are like twin water spirits gliding across the wet deck, shouting commands that Leo and I follow without question. I am driven by the fear of them falling into the roiling sea, and only when we have stowed the sail do I take a deep, calming breath.

  “Get below deck!” Cas takes a last look at the lightning storm coming our way. “Hurry!”

  Leo opens the hatch, and we slip down the ladder into the cold belly of the ship. We stack bags of potatoes to prevent any crates from tumbling down, but there is little we can do to keep the cooking ware and other loose items from tipping over.

  “Now we wait for the storm to pass,” Leyre warns, peeling off her wet clothes until she’s down to her chemise. Castian and Leo do the same. As my teeth begin to chatter, I follow suit to prevent the cold from seeping further into my bones. Leo yanks open the door to a pitch-dark room. Chairs scrape from side to side, and the ship bobs up and down the troughs of waves. Down here, we are but shadows on top of shadows. I call my magics forward, but the light burns as if I’ve stuck my hand in fire.

  “I thought I saw—” Leo curses as he trips over chairs.

  There’s some rummaging, the sound of our breaths, the crack of lightning. Leo’s bellow of triumph: “Here we have it.”

  After the hiss of a match, we have a single oil lamp, and a stack of wool blankets. In the weak glow, Castian and I take up seats on one of the chaises. Leo sits on a gaming table with a red velvet top. Leyre chooses the floor, her back resting against the wall.

  “How did you know that was there?” I ask, wrapping the itchy but warm blanket around my shoulders.

  “While you were indisposed, I made sure there were no other stowaways.”

  Leyre rolls her eyes, seemingly unbothered by the threat of capsizing. “Need I remind you I was invited aboard, and I have done everything to save all of you ingrates. If not for me you’d be trying, and failing, to swim back to shore. Now, who has any good stories to stop my mind from imagining a hundred ways to die at sea?”

  My last memory flashes before my eyes—the cannon fire, the Moria princess with the Leonesse prince.

  “Come now, Leo, you must have court gossip, at the very least,” Leyre presses. “And while you were snooping around the yacht, did you happen to find any of that delicious aguadulce?”

  Leo rifles through a drawer on the side of his table and withdraws a clear bottle of the sugarcane liquor. “You’re in luck.”

  She catches the bottle in the air, tugs out the cork with her teeth, and takes a swig. “If I was lucky, I wouldn’t be here with you lot. But we all make sacrifices for the ones we love.”

  Castian takes the bottle she offers but doesn’t drink from it. He watches her carefully. When thunder booms, he’s the only one who doesn’t start. “Why are you here, Leyre?”

  “I told you.”

  “Your father is alive,” Castian says darkly. “You saved him. The living don’t need avenging.”

  She takes the bottle back, scrunching her features into a petulant anger. “Ah, but they do.”

  The entire vessel shakes. When I close my eyes, I can feel us moving on the ocean surface, hear how much harder the rain is beating.

  “Do you know the story of the Princess of the Glaciers?” Leyre asks, and I realize that for all her bravado above deck, she’s scared. Sails and pulleys she can control, but sitting with a group of strangers below deck, she can’t.

  “Never heard of it,” I say, and reach over to take the bottle of aguadulce. After the smallest sip, I hand it to Leo.

  “Honestly, what do the children of Puerto Leones learn, then?”

  Castian’s laugh is a low rumble I feel in my belly. “We learn about pirates.”

  Leyre flashes her crooked smile but waves her arms in time to her story. “It’s a tale o
f a Luzouan princess from ancient times. She was taken by the barbarians from the southern icelands.”

  “There are icelands in the south, too?” Leo asks, passing the aguadulce back to Leyre.

  “Of course,” Leyre says, offering the bottle to Castian. “Sail all the way up north and you’ll find ice. Sail all the way south, and you’ll find ice. Luzou to the southeast. Dauphinique to the northeast. No one has ever been far enough west of Puerto Leones to find anything there, though. Truly, when you are king, you must do something about the education in your kingdom.”

  Castian grunts and takes a sip. “Get on with your story, Leyre, before the storm swallows us whole.”

  “Anyway, the princess of our tale was taken from Luzou by the Glacier King and kept in his ice palace. But being from the tropics, she nearly died.”

  “How did she survive?” I ask.

  “An ice witch placed her under a deep sleep. The Glacier King, to prove that he did love her, went in search of a rare cure, a flower that only grows in Luzou. He brought a glacier with him to the northern tip of our continent. To stop him from turning the whole world to ice, every villager helped search for the flower. But on an island so green, so full of flowers, it was going to take every citizen to succeed.”

  “Did they find it?” Leo asks. “Don’t tell me. No. Wait. Tell me.”

  “Yes, but at great cost. The Glacier King, despite bringing a piece of home with him, thawed, and when he thawed the oceans rose, and he began to drown. But as the princess woke, thanks to the villagers finding the flower, she’d become part ice and saved him. If you ask me, she should have let him sink to the bottom of the ocean and taken his lands for her own, then found someone who deserved her.”

  “Or just gone home,” I suggest.

  “She was away too long. Became too changed. Sometimes you return to a place, and it no longer feels familiar.” Castian’s voice is low compared to the waves, and the emotion in his words feels like a confession. “Not because it’s changed, but because you have, and there isn’t anything you can do to get that feeling back. It’ll never be home again.”