by Sarah Dalton
“Perhaps we should get some fresh air,” I suggest. Again, the words come from my lips, but I have little control over them. It is as though I am acting the part in a play, controlled by some puppet master somewhere. The Nix?
“That sounds agreeable,” he says.
We break from our embrace, with some reluctance. The absence of his hands leaves a chill on my body. I feel eyes upon us when we step through the ballroom. One woman says: “Did you see them? He should not be dancing with the likes of her. What would the princess say?”
My cheeks warm with a combination of indignation and shame. Who am I dancing with that would upset a princess?
We make our way out onto a deserted balcony which overlooks the impressive gardens below. The breeze is warm, scented with lavender, sweet and floral. Ivy twists around the stone balustrade. I turn to my dancing partner with an unsaid question on my lips. He tears the mask away to answer that question.
Cas?
Chapter Ten – The Failed Escape
“Mae,” he says, his voice not as anxious or stilted, but rushed and breathy. “We do not have much time until the princess… I shouldn’t have danced like that with you. It’s too dangerous.”
“But, Cas!” I reach forward and take his hands in mine. “Don’t! I want to be with you.”
“And I you, but if Ellen, the princess—I hate saying that—if she finds out… You should go. You should leave here,” he urges. “She is powerful and she will kill you if she knows. I’m sorry Mae.”
Ellen is the princess? But that means they have married. My heart sinks.
He lifts a finger to my face and unhooks the mask. Before I can do anything else, his lips press against mine. It is a gentle kiss, but ignites my senses all the same. I smell that familiar Cas scent, one of sweet and spice. Musk, berries, lemons…
“Come, we must get you to safety. Replace your mask. I know a way out of the castle, and you must take it. You must go, ride away to somewhere safe. I cannot lose you forever, Mae. I cannot.”
We rush back into the ballroom and through the throng of people into the corridors. Cas ducks through them, ignoring the stares and whispers. He stops me by a refreshments table and leans towards me as though we are talking.
“Now, don’t say anything. There are people watching us. Wait until they become bored and I’ll help you leave,” he says. “These sweet buns are tasty, aren’t they?” He glances over his shoulder. “Right, now.”
We slip out of the ballroom and head down the corridor. My shoes click against the stones. I bend down and slip them from my feet. Then I can trot alongside Cas, keeping up with his pace.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I’m taking you to the tunnels. Then you need to go to Anta. Ride away from here. It’s the only way.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. I have to think of the realm. My father is ill. If I go now, it will give Lyndon an opportunity to usurp the throne. We both know he will run Aegunlund into the ground. I can’t let that happen.”
I know he’s right, but there’s an ache in my stomach.
“Where will I go?”
“To Sasha,” he says. “She’ll keep you safe in the Borgan camp. I know you’re still angry about what happened to your father, but you know she is a good person. She had nothing to do with it.”
“I know,” I say. “I’ll go to Sasha.”
Cas comes to a halt, and for the third time since the curse came down on the Red Palace, I find myself at the queen’s chambers. He slides the brass rings until the notches line up correctly, then ushers me into the room. There he opens the hidden door in the bathroom by moving another set of the brass rings from the inside. He takes me by the hand and leads me into the secret passageway.
“Will I see you again?” When I say the words I feel as though I have said them before.
“I don’t know,” he replies. His face is strained and tense. His jaw is set and juts out, as though he’s gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry, Mae.”
I pull on his arm. “It’s not your fault.”
We kiss again, harder this time. His body presses against mine. There’s something that feels normal and right, and yet there’s another part screaming inside, telling me that I can’t stop kissing him, that I must cling to him and never let him go. When he pulls away, I’m left woozy for a moment. I rock back on my heels in a daze. Cas has to pull me on.
The twists and turns of the tunnels are different this time. I try to memorise them as we go, counting the lefts and rights. It all goes past in a blur. Cas’s lantern waivers as we hurry, spinning shadows along the walls. It reminds me of a shadow show in the tavern once in Halts-Walden, when the actors made shapes out of their hands. I remember the silhouette of a wolf that frightened me so much I did not sleep for two nights. Father had told me I was too young but I had insisted…
On the left wall, I spot a line of words carved into one of the stones. The words are small, cursive, worn over time. I have to stop and read them, but I don’t seem to have any control over my body in this vision. My legs continue to hurry along. I can move my head, but my body won’t let me deviate further.
This is it. This is my chance to find out before I am back in my own body and in danger from the Nix. I must make myself. I must learn how to take control of these visions, because this could help me defeat the Nix.
All I can do is hope that the craft will stir within me. If the realm draws on the craft, then that must mean that the Nix’s magic is related to mine. If I concentrate on taking control of my body… perhaps…
I think of slowing myself one footstep at a time. I lean back from Cas, trying to ease my hand out of his. My body wills me forward, but I take a deep breath and try to empty my mind. When my hand lets go of Cas, I know I’m almost there. Now I need to slow down my footsteps.
“What’s wrong?” Cas says.
“I… I…” Controlling my voice is even harder. I force myself through the barrier. “I need to see something… the words on the wall…”
“What are you talking about? Mae, we have to leave.”
“Can’t…” I say. “Need to…”
I force my feet back. At first I’m walking backwards because I can’t turn around, but as I break down more barriers, I’m able to turn myself in the opposite direction and hurry back along the passageway, searching for those words. Could they be important to my quest to destroy the curse?
“Mae!” Cas calls out. “What are you doing?”
I hear his boots scuff the floor as he rushes back to me.
“There’s something here that I need to see,” I insist.
“What is it?”
“Here.” I point to the words. They say: En Crypt Saran.
“It must be some crypt for a person called Saran,” Cas says. “Come on we have to go.”
“Why would there be a crypt here?”
Cas shrugs. “Who knows what could be in these walls. Some of them are thick enough to hold a body. Perhaps one of the old kings murdered and buried his rival here. I’ve never really thought about it.”
“En Crypt Saran,” I say aloud. The words are strange and disjointed.
“Leave it,” Cas urges. “Look, there is even a symbol beneath it. Probably a marker for the poor soul stuck in the wall.” He rubs away at moss on the stone. It reveals the basic sketch of an eye.
I gasp. “Viewing platform.”
“What?” Cas asks.
“Something Beardsley said.” I know deep down that this must be the key. There is something to solve here. I lean forward and examine the wall, running my fingers over the bricks. It could be that my imagination is reaching for something that isn’t there, but it seems to me that for a rectangle underneath the words, the surface of the stones are smoother. It’s a very subtle change, but one that raises my suspicions. Perhaps this is some sort of false wall.
“This is of little importance. Mae, Ellen knows about us. It’s d
angerous for you here.”
“What is Ellen going to do?” I ask. I seem to be in full control of myself now. I’m able to talk and walk as I would like.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it is dangerous for the king to find out I am with you. He will not stand for it. He and Lyndon would like nothing more than to get rid of me. I swear sometimes they conspire against me at night. There are times when I lay awake, waiting for it to happen. I worry they will go for Mother first. I can’t worry about you as well. I… I need you safe, Mae.”
“Then I’ll go,” I say. I am desperate to investigate the wall further, but I am also aware of the fact that I can be hurt, perhaps even killed, in the visions. Not only that, Cas’s eyes are wide and pleading, full of bright emotion that I can’t resist. I lift a hand and touch his cheek. “I promise I will.” And then, in a surge of emotion that comes from my very core, one that almost knocks me off my feet, I find myself saying, “I love you, Cas. I have for longer than I care to admit.” Saying the words sends a heat wave up my skin. Being in the vision has made me bold. I forgot myself for a moment. I’m speaking as me now, not some puppet in the Nix’s vision.
“I love you too,” he says with a long breath. He grasps my hand and his eyes bore into mine. My heart pounds. The moment is too fleeting. I want to clutch it and hold on to it. I want time to slow. I want to savour this moment, stretch it out until it reaches infinity twenty times over. More than anything, I want this moment to be real, not part of a sick and twisted game.
“But we have to go,” he insists.
I snap out of my trance and nod. We hurry back along the passage. Cas directs us with ease. I imagine him and his mother practising their escape along these tunnels. The queen was right to ensure her safety in the Red Palace by taking the room by this passageway.
Cas is out of breath and flushed by the time we reach a large, wooden door with a lock combination even more complicated than the last.
“If you go through here, you reach the sewage tunnels out of Cyne. On the border, I’ll have a guard waiting with Anta. I’m sorry, Mae. If there was another way. I wish I could come with you.”
Unexpected tears prick my eyes. I might now be in control of my body, but my emotions are running high. This is a lot to take in: an affair with Cas? Danger from Ellen? An escape?
“Can I send you a message when I get to Sasha?” I say.
“Send it to my mother. She’ll give it to me. Anything directly to me could be dangerous. They’re coming for me, Mae. I can feel it.”
“Then I should stay and protect you,” I reply.
“What can you do? No, I want you in safety.”
“I’m stronger than you think.”
Cas turns away from me and moves the rings to open the door. It swings open and the smell of the putrid sewage tunnels hits the back of my throat.
“Go,” he says.
My eyes mist. I take hold of Cas and kiss him again. This time, I am me, and I have waited for this moment for a long time. I sink into him, and I memorise every moment. I inhale his scent, taste the sweet honey of Cyne sticky buns. I could live my life and only have this moment. Even if it isn’t real, I need to remember it. All of it.
When we break, I move towards the sewage tunnel when there is a high-pitched sound like a zziip and a thump. Something hot hits my back and warm liquid trickles down my hip.
“What…?” I say, stumbling from my woozy head. Cas grasps my wrist, his face filled with horror.
Another zzip and a hideous thump as another arrow hits my chest. My knees buckle from under me.
A man dressed in gold steps out from the shadows. He grins and his teeth are like wolf’s teeth. The king. “I told you I wouldn’t miss this time.”
As the tunnel fades into darkness, I see Cas’s eyes filled with tears.
*
I wake to searing pain over my body. Both my chest and my back is in agony. The Nix is gone, but blood seeps from both wounds, mingling with the stones on the floor of the castle. There are black spots darting in front of my eyes and I long to close them, until I hear a voice.
“Stay with me, Mae. Don’t go to sleep.”
“Sasha? What are you doing here?”
There’s a swish of red curls. My vision is blurry but I can just make out her pale face staring down at me. “I guess I’m your new protector. Allerton came back to the camp in a right huff. It was dreadfully creepy watching his soul filter back into a lifeless body. No, don’t try to move. You’ve been badly injured. Stay very still.”
In my pain, I must have reached out to the Borgans. Only this time, I tore Sasha’s soul from her body. Her familiar tone is a comfort to me, but I hate the thought of putting her in danger.
“I can’t touch you, Mae, so you need to dress the wounds yourself. It looks like the wound on your chest is bleeding faster than the one on your back. You need to apply pressure.”
“This… this isn’t the first injury,” I say as I try to rip clothing to apply to my chest. “I have a cut on my side, too. And the Nix got my face. It… it’s too much. I won’t make it.”
“Yes you will,” she says. “You are the craft-born and you heal fast. Now, press down on the wound on your chest, and think about the earth. Do you remember when we were in the Waerg Woods and the Profeta stabbed you?”
“Yes,” I say. “I remember.”
“That wound was far worse than these, and it was infected. But you dreamt of the earth. You dreamt of the roots tangled in soil, and it helped to mend you. You must do that now. Dress the cut tightly, and think of those roots.”
I follow her instructions, forcing my weak, shaking fingers to pull my makeshift bandage tight.
“It was the king,” I mumble. “In a vision. He shot at me because I was with Cas. Cas said he loved me.”
Sasha frowns. “Is this another vision from the Nix?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s a lie anymore. I’m confused, Sasha. I don’t know what to believe.” I almost choke on my own tears. I feel so tired. I’m at breaking point after the Nix’s games. The longer this goes on, the less reasoning I see behind it. Now I believe it’s little more than an elaborate way to torture and kill me.
“Then believe in yourself. Believe that you are going to survive this and kill that squirmy little shit once and for all,” Sasha says. Her mouth tightens into a thin line and her red curls fall over her face. She is dressed in the same hooded cowl all the Borgan’s wear.
“I’m glad it’s you this time,” I say.
“You called me,” she replies. “I didn’t know I was even a protector, but you called me.” She gives a small smile. “I think you missed me.”
I laugh, but the pain isn’t worth it. My vision begins to cloud and my breaths are ragged.
“No, no, no! Stay with me, Mae.” Sasha kneels down by my side, but the corridor is already floating away.
Chapter Eleven – The Ancestors
The Red Palace isn’t silent at all; it’s just that we don’t listen. If you stay very still, you can hear the sound of thousands of creatures beneath the ground, burrowing and burying. There are just as many roots spreading and growing through the soil. Ancient soil; connected to my ancestors, the Aelfens; walked on by thousands of feet over thousands of years; steeped in history, enriched by the bodies of our dead. I feel the magic as I feel my own extremities. The soil is my blood. My life force. It is as though there is no stone between us. No castle basement. The barrier has lifted. I have become one with the mud, and its nutrients flow through me like the magic.
Nature exists in all things, and therefore so does the craft.
Allerton told me that once. He was right. I feel the magic in the soil, and I am at one with it. We’ve become bound together in a great tangle of limbs and roots.
As I am barely conscious I hear Sasha singing the same song she sang through the Waerg Woods, about a girl with a broken heart who begged for the tree to pull her down i
nto the ground. I understand that now. I understand how it is possible to join the soil—to long for it.
As I lay dying, my mind drifts from reality to insanity. My thoughts are fractured, with parts of the Nix’s riddles coming to me in segments:
I devour hearts.
You cannot touch me, but I make you cold,
Who am I?
Trailing silk, I glide.
I’m always wrong and so are you.
Who am I?
First comes the mental torture, and now the physical injuries. Has the Nix gone too far? Has it killed me at last?
There’s a special kind of peace spreading from my toes, and I suspect that it is the magic trying to soothe away the pain.
But it’s when I see her that I know I am going insane.
At first, I think it is another Nymph come to hurt me. She is iridescent in her loveliness, and glows like the Glowbugs in the Waerg Woods. But as she approaches, I see her dark skin and hair black as night. I see the strange blue eyes, and her full lips.
She is naked and should be ashamed of her exposed body. But somehow she is not. She seems neither boastful, nor bashful. She holds her head up high, her shoulders are thrown back, and yet her eyes are soft, misted with dew. She looks at me in the same way the queen looks at Cas, like a proud mother, with her mouth turned into a sad smile. Wet eyes and glowing skin and gentle features. She is beautiful.
She crouches next to me and lays a warm hand on my cool forehead.
“Who are you?” I ask.
Close up, I see even more of her beauty. Her eyes are oval and framed by curled lashes. The symmetry of her face is so striking that you feel yourself pulled in by her presence.