Unblemished

by Sara Ella

  Footsteps. A sigh.

  “Is it bad?” Robyn must’ve morphed back into her human form.

  Another sigh, long and exaggerated. “I won’t know until I’ve examined her fully—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Papa. I know your ability to diagnose with a single look.” Her argument isn’t rude or disrespectful like her sister’s. Instead her words carry genuine concern. I haven’t even really met her, and already she cares more for me than Quinn ever did. “Now tell me. How bad is it?”

  He clears his throat. Stalling? Shoes shuffle. Water gushes. “I’d know Haman’s touch anywhere. The damage is beyond my ability to heal. I can make her comfortable, give her Illusoden, but that is all.”

  I don’t know what Illusoden is, but I’m sure I want it. Now.

  “No.” Robyn sniffles. “No. There has to be something you can do for her. Did you see her face? That mark, it’s—”

  “I know. I know.”

  Seconds tick off in my head as I wait for him to continue. To give me some context as to why my cursed birthmark is so important. One, one thousand, two, one thousand, three . . .

  “There . . . might be a way,” Wade finally says.

  The suspense is killing me. Literally.

  “I can’t heal her, but there’s someone who can. He’s the only Physic known to bring anyone back from something like this.”

  “Is there a way to get word to him? We at least have to try to bring him here.”

  Yes. Try. I have to save Mom.

  “That’s the problem. Nathaniel’s been in hiding nearly two decades. The only person who might know his whereabouts is Makai, but he hasn’t returned.”

  Nathaniel. I know that name. Why do I know that name?

  Robyn asks the question for me. “Nathaniel? I’ve never heard of him.”

  “You wouldn’t have. He’s one of the oldest Physics. Worked for the king before the Revolution. Nathaniel Archer refused to side with Jasyn, but he wouldn’t fight him either. Shame and fear sent him into hiding. He could be anywhere . . .”

  Wade’s voice trails off, not because he’s stopped talking but because I’ve stopped listening. If I thought nothing else could surprise me, I was wrong. Of course Makai would have the information they need. Because Nathaniel Archer is none other than my not-as-dead-as-Mom-said-he-was grandfather.

  And I might know exactly where he is.

  TEN

  Sudden Silence

  They won’t quit arguing. Do they think I’m deaf?

  It’s been hours since I told Wade and Robyn what I know about Nathaniel. Explained how I’m related to him and what happened to Mom. After that, Robyn made me comfortable. Set my soggy boots by the fire, gave me a pillow. Then Wade served me some sort of red liquid that tasted like fermented beets. My pain is gone. I’m fine. Never felt better. Let’s get moving already.

  I explained the urgency of the situation, but they don’t seem to understand. Haman’s probably reached the castle by now. I shudder to think how he plans to fulfill his vow to Isabeau. How can he even promise something like that?

  Cringe. I’m coming, Mom. I’m coming.

  “Consider what you’re asking,” a gruff voice scoffs from the cabin porch. The open window admits every word. “You want us to trust a foreign girl none of us have ever seen before? How would she know where this Physic Archer is anyway?”

  I may not have any of Mom’s sketchbooks with me, but I remember them well. Sketchbooks were my picture books. Fingertips stained with charcoal and lead, I’d sit for hours and study those renderings. Mom journaled between sketches, too, but I never read any of her entries. The pictures were what fascinated me. Back then I thought the drawings were random. Now I’m starting to wonder if they tell a story. Makai. The Second Reflection landscapes. And Nathaniel—my grandfather—standing in front of our brownstone, holding baby me in his arms.

  Except something was different. Subtle variances I’d never considered until now. A planter we’ve never had. Ivy I’ve never seen. Square window frames rather than arched. Brick steps where cement ones should be. Come to find out, it wasn’t our brownstone in the drawing. It was a reflection, a replica, a copy.

  I described the building to Wade in detail. His expression shifted from shock to delight. “How could I have missed it? All this time he’s been there, right under Jasyn’s nose.”

  “Been where?” Robyn asked.

  “Lisel Island. It’s just ruins and rubble now, abandoned during the Revolution. No one in his right mind would’ve stayed there.” Wade laughed. Shook his head. “But Nathaniel’s never been in his right mind.”

  Wade excused himself to his work area and left Robyn to watch over me then. She’s been urging me to rest, but I can’t sleep. Not with all the activity happening within earshot. I lean forward, turn my ear toward the porch.

  Gage speaks next. “She has the mark, plain as day. Makai’s been secretive about his business in the Third all these years. I’d wager this girl—his niece, apparently—was his business. When he sent word he’d be bringing someone with him, he didn’t mention the mark. I’m as stunned as you are, but Makai wouldn’t deceive us without cause. He’s obviously been hiding her from Crowe. Joshua’s been helping him. It’s the only explanation.”

  A sardonic, raspy laugh. “Why keep the rest of us in the dark then, if they’ve known of her existence all along? Perhaps Makai and Joshua are not as loyal to the Verity as we believed.”

  “Be careful, Saul. That’s your commanding officer you’ve just insulted.” Gage’s voice wavers on the border of resolve and resentment. “Our men would never betray us or the Verity.”

  A pause. Creak, step, shuffle. Cough, grunt, murmur.

  “Wouldn’t they?” Sheesh. This Saul guy refuses to quit. Maybe he’s related to Ky. “Need I remind you of Haman’s betrayal, not to mention the dozens of others who’ve surrendered to the Void? Decent men and women we trusted. Our numbers are dwindling, Commander. And still we wait. Do you know how many mornings I’ve awakened and wondered if today would be the day the Verity might return? Anticipating its vessel would come forward and take back what Crowe stole from us? Our freedom. Our land. Our home. How can we be sure this girl’s not a spy, a Soulless even? She was traveling with the traitor Kyaphus, no trace of Commander Archer or Lieutenant David. It all seems highly suspicious to me.”

  Robyn purses her lips, casts me a sidelong glance, and steps outside. “She’s no Soulless. Her eyes and skin remain unaltered.” My new friend’s support salves my blistering uncertainty.

  A harrumph wafts through the window.

  “I do not believe she has reached her eighteenth year yet,” Robyn adds. “The Void could not touch her if it tried.”

  “She has the mark.” Gage again. “That’s good enough for me. As for Commander Archer and Lieutenant David, they made their choices. You have made yours. Our oath as Guardians is ‘To the Crown until Death.’ I stand by my vow, just as Makai and Joshua do. We must hold out hope we’ll see them again.” Another creak, a few stomps. They’re gone.

  He misunderstood my silence earlier. Gage thinks his men are still alive. How can I tell him the truth?

  At my side once more, Robyn urges me to lie back down, gives me a gentle shove. I obey but catch her wrist. “Tell me what they’re talking about. Please?”

  She smiles. “Shhh. You must rest now. The journey to Lisel Island will not be easy. The Illusoden is doing its job on your pain, but you are far from well.”

  I shake my head. My brain whooshes, Jell-O in my skull. “No. I need to know what’s going on.”

  She tilts her chin. “How much have you been told?”

  Finally. “This is a Reflection. There are seven in all. My birthmark is significant, but I have no clue why. A guy named Jasyn Crowe wants . . .” What does he want? It was never made clear. “. . . something from me.” We’re running out of time.

  Robyn retreats, then returns with two steaming teacups. She passes one to me, then pulls ov
er a stool. Its legs vibrate against the wood. She sits and cradles her teacup in her hand, breathing slowly as if preparing to perform a monologue. “I can only tell you what I know. The histories my parents shared with me as a child.”

  This is it. I sip my tea, suck in my cheeks. Bitter but warm. Comforting. I swallow, the tea coating my throat, and stare at the grainy, dark-spotted log ceiling. The hammock swings slightly.

  Tracing her teacup’s rim with one fingertip, Robyn begins, “Jasyn Crowe refers to himself as Sovereign, but he is a servant of the Void—the quintessence of all darkness and deception. With every year that passes under his rule, a little more of this Reflection becomes shadowed. If Jasyn remains on the throne, swaying more followers toward wickedness, the Second will cease to exist as we know it. Those of us who serve the Verity—the purest form of light imaginable—will not be able to stop it. We will be forced to abandon our homes or live out our days in darkness. Then this realm will no longer be a Reflection, but a Shadow World.” Robyn pauses, lifts her teacup, and sips.

  Chills spider-walk down my spine. Void and Verity? Darkness and light? This is crazy.

  Yet I believe every word. I come from the Third Reflection. Where children are abandoned and trafficked and abused. Where those with power cheat and manipulate for their own gain. Where words such as terrorism and shootings have become commonplace on the evening news. That place becomes darker every minute. It’s practically a Shadow World already.

  “Why not leave?” I hold my breath as I sip the tea again. Makes the bitterness not so pungent. “If things are so bad here, what reason do you have to stay?”

  “Because . . .” Robyn lowers her cup, the worry around her eyes softening. “This is our home. Running would serve no purpose. Jasyn Crowe won’t stop until the Void’s power reaches the ends of the Reflections.” She leans forward, her top’s drawstring caught in a swirl of steam. “But we are not without hope. Because before Jasyn seized the throne, there was another king, the last-known vessel of the Verity. King Aidan Henry.”

  Emotion corkscrews. Joshua. He mentioned King Aidan—right before he died. I swallow back the shards of my heart threatening to lodge in my throat. “What happened to him?”

  “He and the queen had one desire—to have a child of their own. Papa remembers when the king and queen would walk along the streets, playing and laughing with the people.”

  “They had such a light in their eyes when they’d join the children in their games.” Wade speaks.

  I jolt. I’d forgotten he was still in the cabin.

  He strides over and squeezes Robyn’s shoulder.

  Robyn beams at her father, and suddenly I’m an intruder. I taste bile but gulp it quickly. It’s not her fault I never knew my dad.

  Another second. She faces me again. “But the king and his queen remained childless. They grew old and the time was fast approaching when Aidan would pass and the Verity would inhabit a new vessel, someone good and worthy of the crown who served the Verity as he did. With this charge would come great power. Most assumed King Aidan’s closest confidant would be chosen.”

  The fog lifts a hair. “Jasyn?”

  Wade nods.

  Robyn gazes into her teacup. Tap, tap, taps the porcelain with her fingernails. “He was forty-seven at the time. As Commander of the Guardians and the king’s dearest friend, he did everything right. He seemed like the perfect candidate. He was noble. Kind. He had everyone fooled.”

  A frown draws Wade’s entire face south. “None of us were prepared for what came to pass.”

  Neither of them speaks. Wade squeezes his daughter’s shoulder again and then walks to the stove.

  Robyn offers me a weak smile, communicating something private in her bright eyes. Wade loved King Aidan. No question about it.

  I finish my tea in three long gulps, treating it like cough syrup instead of a beverage. “What happened?”

  She retrieves my cup, rests it between her thighs, and exhales. “On the king’s seventy-fifth birthday, the king and queen vanished.” Silence. Another sip of tea.

  Back turned toward us, Wade sniffs, fiddles with a pot on the stove. Robyn may be relaying these events, but Wade lived them. My heart aches for this man I hardly know. For the pain I so relate to.

  This story is getting good. Or bad. I glance at what looks like vegetable stew. No beef chunks. It’d be perfect if I had an appetite. Instead the scent of veggie broth welcomes back the constant nausea I had after Mom disappeared. How can I eat when I’m already full of something else? Sorrow. Grief. Agony. Take your pick.

  A tear slips. Then another. I’ll never see Joshua again.

  Robyn pats my hand, probably assuming my tears are story related and nothing more.

  “Naturally, the king’s second-in-command took charge. He sent out search parties, combed the Reflection for the rulers. When they weren’t found, Jasyn declared a time of mourning across the provinces.” A loose hair falls into Robyn’s face and she tucks it away. Pulls her lips inward, then blows out a puff of air. “The few who encountered Jasyn Crowe during that period said he seemed . . . different. Despondent but crazed. He holed himself up, hardly left his chambers.”

  “It was nearly a year before he summoned anyone to court again.” Wade returns, wooden bowl in hand. Steam rises from its heart. “I remember it so clearly. My wife, Lark, had stayed home with Wren, just an infant at the time. I stood in the throne room, fully expecting Jasyn to give the people answers. What had happened to the king and queen? Had they died? If so, what had become of the Verity?” Eyes glossed, he takes a deep breath before continuing. “But we received no such comfort. Jasyn proclaimed the Verity had vanished along with the king and queen, but not to worry, for he had access to another power—a greater power. Those were his exact words.”

  Robyn trades our teacups for the bowl in Wade’s hands. Clink, rattle. “That was the day he released the Void from its prison.” She places the bowl in my lap.

  Eyes closed and brow creased, Wade lowers his hands to his sides. The last bit of tea from Robyn’s cup drip, drip, drips onto the cabin floor. “I saw it even then. There was a darkness about him beyond anything I’d witnessed in my lifetime. He’d succumbed to the Void’s power.”

  “The Void had been contained for hundreds of years,” she explains. “Entombed in a secret prison. Supposedly, only the Verity’s vessel knows where the prison is, for the Verity alone has the power to contain or unleash the Void.”

  “Then how did Jasyn release it?” I take a sip of the peppery broth. Wrong pipe. Cough.

  Robyn leans forward. “That’s the mystery, isn’t it? It’s possible Aidan told Jasyn of the prison. The king trusted the man, after all, kept him close all those years. But there is still the conundrum of how, even if Jasyn knew the Void’s location, he was able to unleash it.” She rubs little circles on my back. “Some speculate Jasyn is actually a Mirror.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. Mom always used to rub my back this way when I was sick. “What’s a Mirror?”

  “A person containing all the Callings. The gifts and abilities we’re given as children.” Wade paces to the other side of the cabin, sets the teacups in what appears to be a washbasin.

  Ky mentioned Callings. And Wren. These Callings—powers—must be why Ky can paralyze. Why Haman can injure. Why Wren and Robyn can transform. And why Nathaniel can heal me. What about Makai? Is that why he could disappear? And Joshua. He was from here. Did he have some special superpower as well?

  A pang stabs my chest. Now I’ll never know.

  “But,” Robyn adds, “Mirrors are a myth. No one should have that much access to the Callings. It’s not natural.” She shudders. “Which leaves us where we started. Wondering how Jasyn freed the Void in the first place.”

  “And so began the Era of Shadows,” Wade says when he returns, “bringing with it a Revolution. Those who served the Verity against those who submitted to the Void. Jasyn closed trade with the other Reflections, cut power througho
ut the provinces. The castle is the only place in all of the Second that still has access to electricity.”

  I stare at my bowl, broth growing colder by the breath. Holy wow. This is the most epically tragic story I’ve ever heard. Suddenly my problems seem small in comparison.

  But then Robyn smiles, teeth and all. Could this story have a happy ending?

  “I always believed . . .” She swipes a stray tear with her knuckle and starts again. “I always believed he was lying, Papa. Even after Mother left, I still hoped.”

  Wade takes his daughter’s hand. “I know, my girl. I know.” He chokes on the words.

  “Believed what? Who was lying?” I’m like a little kid, begging to be read one more page at bedtime.

  “There is much left to conjecture,” Wade answers. “We still have our Callings. That was our first clue Jasyn concealed the truth.”

  When I scrunch my brows, Robyn adds, “The Callings are sourced by the Verity, you see. If the Verity had truly vanished, our abilities should have gone with it. We always hoped Jasyn’s claim was fabricated. Now we know for sure.” Her gaze finds my right cheek.

  Out of habit I dip my head and let my hair fall over my birthmark. “What do you mean?”

  “The mark on your face. It’s proof the Verity lives.” Robyn’s practically bouncing on her stool.

  “How so?” I peek through my hair curtain.

  “You are sixteen, seventeen maybe?” Wade’s eyebrows arch.

  “I’ll be eighteen in three weeks.” I’ve always resented looking younger than I am. Mom says I’ll appreciate it someday.

  “And you’ve always had that mark?” Wade asks.

  “Since I was born.”

  “All of this took place two decades ago,” Wade muses. “Before you even existed.”

  “So?”

  “Sooo . . .” Robyn stands. “There is only one person who could’ve given you a mark like this one.” She reaches out as if to brush the hair from my face, then seems to think better of it, her hand faltering.