Unblemished

by Sara Ella

  She lists her head and exits, closing the door behind her.

  “Please, please, come in, come in.” Grizz claps twice.

  Joshua approaches him, uttering the first words I’ve heard leave his mouth since he stood by and watched Gage tie me up. “Thank you. If you’ll point the way, I’ll show everyone to their rooms. Gage here will discuss the matter of payment.” His voice is milk on a sour stomach. Why can’t I stay mad at him, especially when he deserves it?

  Grizz brushes his hands together, chuckling, his potbelly jiggling. “Yes, yes. Very good, very good. It’s just up the stairs, right that way.” He waves to our left. “Every room is vacant. No sir, not a single one is occupied. You are my first guests in quite some time, yes, in some time.”

  Joshua navigates the narrow stairway. Preacher, Stormy, Kuna, Ky, and I shadow him while Gage remains in the lobby. Poor guy. I feel sort of bad for the Commander, forced to endure more of Grizz’s irksome redundancies. A song track set on never-ending repeat.

  The shadow of a grin haunts my lips. Okay, maybe I don’t feel so bad for Gage’s discomfort.

  A short hall spreads from the top of the steps, a floor-to-ceiling window at the end. Four white doors, each with a brass numeral nailed to its front, wait. Two to the left and two to the right. Joshua opens each one, peeking in, then moving to the next. After viewing every room, he faces us. “There are only four beds. Kuna and Stormy, you’ll of course room together. I’ll bunk with Gage and, Preacher, you can have your own.” He hesitates, letting the obvious sink in. He exhales. “Kyaphus, you’ll share with Eliyana. I’m assigning you as her full-time Guardian from this point forward. You’ll sleep on the floor. Lock the door. The rest of us will keep watch in shifts. I’ll take the first two hours. Once everyone has had a couple hours of sleep, we’ll move on.” He strides by.

  I touch his shoulder. “Can we talk?”

  He shrugs me off. “It’s probably best if, from now on, we don’t engage. Ky is your Guardian now, which means you and I have no real reason to converse. If you have any concerns, take them to Gage.” Joshua clomps down the stairs.

  My incredulous gaze follows his form until he rounds the corner at the bottom. If his goal is to hurt me, he’s aiming for the high score. But I won’t give up. He can’t avoid me forever.

  Ky opens the first door to the left but doesn’t enter. “After you.”

  I pad past him. Is this how it’ll be from now on? Never a moment of privacy, always being watched?

  So much for invisibility. I’m the Statue of Liberty. I represent freedom. Independence to these people. All eyes are on me.

  All. The. Time.

  The door clicks closed, and Ky slides the bolt in place. He walks to a stool, a lamp and a matchbox resting on top.

  When a ball of gentle, yellow light cha-chas with the wall, I plop down on the bed. Its mattress gives beneath my curve without a sound. The blanket is soft knit, a rainbow of woven hues. A minute ago I wasn’t tired, my anger and confusion served as shots of espresso. But now, sitting here, long-awaited sleep is the only thing on my mind.

  Ky sits in the rocking chair in one corner. Rests his elbows on the arms. Leans his head back and lets his shoulders slump. “You should keep your clothes on. Shoes too. If we have to make a hasty getaway, we won’t want anything to slow us.”

  I glower. “And what makes you think I’d even consider getting undressed with you sitting five feet away?”

  He laughs, palms up in defense. “Calm down, Ember. Just trying to do my job.”

  Ugh, I’m so fed up with being a job to everyone. Is that how Mom thinks of me too? As someone she had to protect for the good of the Reflection?

  How could I think such a thing? Mom loves me. She’s probably the only one who ever has. Ever will.

  “Sorry.” I scoot back on the bed, half lying, half sitting against an embroidered pillow mountain. “I’m just tired, I guess.” Did I just apologize to Ky? The exhaustion must be wearing on me.

  He rocks slowly. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Don’t let David get to you. From what I hear, he’s always been that way. Standoffish. A loner.”

  “You don’t know him like I do. We were close before all this happened.”

  “Or so you think. Did it ever occur to you his nice-guy act might have been exactly that? An act?”

  Of course it’s occurred to me. A lot. “Just leave me alone. I don’t have the energy to fight with someone who wouldn’t know love if it punched him in the gut.” Fabulous. I’ve just admitted to Ky I’m in love with Joshua. How’s he gonna use this one against me?

  “You’re wrong.” The words are a whisper, as though coming from far away. “I know exactly what it feels like to care for someone so much, the very thought of their pain cripples you.”

  Ky’s transparency stops me. Knocks on the barrier surrounding my heart. I cross my arms loosely over my stomach, loathing this person I’ve become. Mean and angry and bitter. Saying things to someone else I’d hate to have said to me. Even if that someone else is Ky. Mom would be ashamed.

  I turn my head and stare out the slender window behind the lamp. A starless sky goes on forever, an evening fog settling low to the ground. “Who was she? The girl who broke your heart.”

  Ky drums his fingers on the wood. “It doesn’t matter.”

  I slide off the bed and cross to the window. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” And I mean it. I finger-comb my hair, pulling it off my neck. I’ve never liked ponytails, preferring to keep my face as hidden as possible. Now, in the grand scheme of things, the action seems pointless and shallow. I press my left palm against the window, flinching at the pressure against my cut.

  Ky rises, meets me where I stand, and takes my hand in his. “Did this happen when you fell? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “It’s nothing, just a scrape.” I start to pull away but stop midway. No reason to flip out. It’s not as if he’s making a move.

  “It’ll get infected if you don’t clean it.” He takes off his pack and lifts the flap, removes his canteen. “Sit.” I relax against the edge of the bed, and Ky kneels before me. “Hold your hand out.” I do. With brows pinched and jaw set, he pours water onto the wound. Dirt and dried blood thin and separate. Dark liquid drips onto the floor. Next, he withdraws a small vial hanging from a loop of string.

  The Illusoden! “Where did you get that?”

  He empties a few drops onto the scratch, and the sting vanishes. “Took it before Crowe could. Thought we might need it.” Finally, Ky pulls out a wad of gauzy material. Tears off a section with his teeth. Wraps it around my hand. His fingers linger there. After a moment he withdraws and repacks his first-aid kit.

  I relax my hand, the warmth of his kind touch still present. “Thank you.”

  He smiles. “That’s twice in one day you’ve thanked me, Ember. Never thought that would happen.”

  Me either.

  Ky moves to his place on the rocker, and I curl up on the bed, tucking my feet to my thighs. I withdraw Mom’s sketchbook from the inside pocket of Wren’s jacket and thumb through the pages. My eyelids droop, but I force them open. Mom’s drawings and scribbled words make me feel as if she’s here with me. I glance at Ky. Smile. For the first time in two weeks, I feel safe. Protected.

  Not alone.

  NINETEEN

  Soften the Ache

  Fourteenth Day, First Month, Thirty-Fifth Year of Aidan’s Reign

  Officer Archer spoke to me today. I was walking to the library when it happened. We passed each other in the hall. Normally he acknowledges me with a simple nod. But not today. Today he smiled and said, “Good day, Lady Elizabeth.” Oh, that smile. My blush could’ve rivaled the queen’s rose garden.

  I hope I see him again tomorrow. Maybe I will even learn his first name.

  Wow. Never pictured Mom as the swoony type. Learn something new every day.

  Regina usually accompanies me, insisting a thirteen-year-old girl should not wander the cas
tle without a chaperone. But today she was needed in the kitchens. The entire staff is preparing for the king’s seventy-fifth birthday party tomorrow . . .

  Holy Verity, this entry was written the day before Aidan and his queen disappeared.

  I flip the page. Inhale. Let the discovery sink in. The lamplight is nearly extinguished. Ky sleeps on the rocker, legs stretched before him. One hand splays across his stomach while the other clasps the hilt of his dagger. His breaths are extended, slow. The deep circles under his eyes remind me he’s exhausted too. What is it about seeing a person asleep that makes him seem so vulnerable? Likable even.

  I roll over onto my back and hold the sketchbook up, trying to catch the last morsel of light. Mom’s entries have me hooked. Why have I never read them before? When I was young and first discovered her sketchbook-slash-journals, the calligraphic cursive was too hard to read. As I grew older I never thought much about them. I can’t believe what I’ve been missing. Just one more page. One more, and then I’ll go to sleep.

  . . . but parties are the last thing on my mind. Because I’ve decided, someday, I’m going to marry Officer Archer. He is only seven years my senior, and what are seven years between adults? Regina insists my feelings are a “crush,” whatever that is. She is always using strange Third Reflection terms since that’s where she grew up.

  Father would never approve of me wedding a Guardian, believes it is below our station. Why can’t I have a normal life? A simple life far away from Father’s critical eye. All I want is a small cottage somewhere. Dewesti Province is so lovely . . .

  A sharp, papery sound ensues as I flip to the next page. Ky stirs and I wince. I’ll have to be more quiet.

  Like something from a storybook, a sketch of a quaint cottage stares back at me. A stone chimney peeks out of the thatched roof, smoke rising in wispy spirals. The fence isn’t a fence at all, but a hedge of rosebushes. A break in the bushes opens to a winding path that leads to a front door framed in ivy. The caption on the drawing simply reads: Someday . . .

  I’ve always loved this drawing. But seeing it now, in the context of Mom’s words, it’s like an entirely different picture. This was Mom’s dream house. Small and simple and oh so very country. Was she disappointed with our life in the city? Living in a home where we could hear our neighbors singing show tunes in the shower if they belted loud enough?

  Yawn. I stretch and flip onto my stomach. Close my eyes. Why didn’t she share any of this with me? Or maybe she tried and I didn’t listen. Her entire life was about me. She never dated, never asked for anything. Did I ever once stop to think about her happiness apart from my own?

  Another yawn. I turn the open book upside down on the bed to save my place, fold my arms beneath my head. A few minutes of shut-eye won’t hurt. Mom’s sketchbook isn’t going anywhere . . .

  My eyelids burst open. The lamplight has died. A hand clamps over my mouth. Stormy’s wild-eyed face hovers above mine. “Shhh.”

  I nod, and she removes her hand. “What’s the matter?” I glance at Ky, still asleep. Beyond the window brilliant stars salt the sky, and the moon illuminates the night. “What time is it?” I rub my eyes.

  Stormy grabs my hand, drags me out of bed. “Late. Hurry. We have to go.”

  Something’s wrong. She’s acting . . . panicked? Nervous? “I’ll wake Ky.”

  She shakes her head. “No time.” We exit the room, spilling into the shadow-shrouded hall.

  “What about everyone else?”

  “They’re waiting at the gate. Come on.” Stormy leads me down the stairs. Out the door. Into the square.

  Crickets perform their cacophonous song as our feet plod stone. My hyperventilating breaths release in clouds, the night’s chill washing my hot face. At the abandoned gate we stop. Stormy stares through the bars, focused and unblinking.

  What’s that noise? Moving water. I peer through the bars. The fountain. It’s working, filling. Glowing green and churning like a whirlpool. “Stormy, what’s happened? Where are the others?”

  Her hands shake. Voice cracks. “A-asleep. I . . . slipped them all something. Had to be sure they’d doze until morning.” She doesn’t look at me.

  Why won’t she look at me? “Why would—?”

  “You have to understand.” Her fingers curl around iron. “I don’t have a choice in this. Please understand . . .” She whimpers, wedging her face between two bars.

  No, this can’t be happening. I retreat, backing toward the inn. “Stormy—”

  “I made a promise.” She opens the gate a crack. “If I don’t do this, I’ll die and then he’ll kill Kuna.”

  My boot snags on cobblestone, and I fall. Pain slices through my tailbone. “What? You’re not making sense. Who—?”

  “Gage,” she says, her voice deadpan. “Gage will kill him if I fail to uphold my vow.”

  I feel around the ground for a stone, a stick, anything to use as a weapon. I don’t want to hurt Stormy, but I have to defend myself. If it comes down to it, I could take her. I inch away. Her back is still toward me. Maybe she won’t notice if I—

  Oh. Snap.

  The interim commander towers over me, a section of coiled rope in his left hand. His face is rigid. And then, then he smiles, baring two rows of toothpaste-ad teeth. “Going somewhere?” He stoops and grabs my ankle with Herculean strength. I kick at him, but I might as well try to escape an iron shackle. For the second time in one day, Gage captures my wrists, binds them. He doesn’t bother to be gentle this time. My skin is still raw from earlier. This doesn’t help.

  He straightens. “A word of advice, girl. Don’t ever give someone a Kiss of Accord unless you’re prepared to bear the full weight of your bargain.” His sneer fixes on Stormy.

  Kiss of Accord? What nonsense is he babbling about?

  “Don’t do this, Gage,” Stormy sobs, eyes still fixed on the fountain. “I’ll find another way to repay you, but please, don’t make me do this.”

  Her desperate pleas chisel at my core. What in the Reflections have I walked into?

  “Oh, but you will repay me.” Gage steps over me, stands behind Stormy. He caresses her shoulder and she shudders. “You’ll do as I say until I’m satisfied your debt is paid in full.”

  I think I’m going to be sick. Ky was right all along. His disdain and distrust for Gage were justified. I attempt to separate my wrists, fighting against the rope. Useless. Stall. “You’ll never get away with this.” With my peripheral vision I search for anything to help me out of this maelstrom.

  A sigh escapes Gage’s lips as he begins to pace. “Oh, but I already have. When Kyaphus took you to Crowe, I worried my opportunity had passed. Imagine my delight when you showed up in the Forest of Night, alive and unscathed. Healed even. Then all I had to do was get rid of Archer, which turned out to be easier than I foresaw. When I suggested he continue on for your mother, he didn’t hesitate. It’s obvious he’s in love with her.” Is that disgust in his voice? “Why else would one of the most talented Guardians of our generation spend nearly eighteen years as your invisible babysitter? Pathetic.”

  Makai in love with Mom? It’s insane considering the position I’m in, but my heart does a little flip. Mom deserves to be happy. Does she feel the same about my uncle? Is it because of me they’ve never made their feelings known? Because of my dad?

  “With Archer out of the way, carrying out the rest of my plan was a breeze. I even found myself glad for Rhyen’s presence. His defiance made my decisions all the more grounded. Who were the others going to trust? A former traitor or their loyal ally and friend?”

  What’s that, glinting just below Gage’s pant hem? The point of a knife. Bull’s-eye.

  Gage cups his hands under my shoulders, lifting me as if I weigh no more than a sack of feathers.

  I keep my eyes downcast, zeroing in on my target. Timing is key. Otherwise it won’t work. “What are you going to do with me? Send me back to Jasyn? I escaped once.” With Ky’s help, but still. “I can find a way to
do it again.”

  “You insult me.” His fingers lock around my forearm. “Crowe is a blip on the map. His vision is too tapered. What I have devised far surpasses that numskull’s plans.”

  I struggle, and he tightens his grasp. My knees lock, and my soles skid across the ground. Not yet. “Gage, why are you doing this?”

  We’re at the gate now. A wolf howls in the distance. An owl hoots from a nearby tree. If only the owl was another shape-shifter, maybe then it could sound an alarm.

  Gage propels me past Stormy and through the opening in the gate. “Because I’m tired of standing in someone else’s shadow.” His top lip curls. “A high price has been placed on your head. In exchange for you, Mistress Isabeau has promised me something very valuable indeed.”

  Isabeau? As in crazy-lady-who-wants-Mom’s-nonexistent-baby? I’m so not playing slave to that wicked witch. I inch my foot next to Gage’s. If I distract him just long enough . . . “What could possibly be worth this? Betraying your friends? The Verity? When the king takes the throne—”

  “Don’t you get it?” He grabs my biceps, his voice a desperate rasp.

  I lift my foot off the ground, keeping my intent gaze locked with his frantic one.

  “There is no king.”

  My boot touches stone. The knife will have to wait. “What?”

  “You heard me. If King Aidan is alive, where’s he been? You believe you’re so special because of your wretched little mark. The truth is, no one needs you to find the vessel of the Verity. The king probably died a long time ago. No one with that much goodness living inside him would stand for what Crowe’s done.”

  “Even if King Aidan died, the Verity would’ve found a new vessel. It finds the purest heart.” Robyn’s words seemed like a tale at the time, something unfathomable and out of reach. But saying them aloud now, I know they must be true.

  “You stupid, naive child.” Gage’s hands shake. “No such thing exists anymore. Consider this. Have you ever met anyone selfless enough he’d give his life for yours?”