by Maggie Platt
CHAPTER 33
As evening approached, Tovi sat on an elaborate cushioned chair in her bedroom, looking in a mirror as Cora pinned her hair. She wore her opal necklace, which was perfectly framed by the deep gray folds of satin that wrapped her body. As Tovi studied her reflection, her mind wandered to her life not so long ago, when the colors that sparkled from her necklace were the colors that appeared in the rivers and ponds at just the right time before dusk.
What a confusing place this was. The fullness promised by BiBi had not been enough. She still felt hollow, and the necklace felt heavy on her chest.
A quiet tap on the door made her jump out of her musings. Without permission, Calix entered and asked Cora to leave. The servant promptly obeyed, and Tovi watched her go with apprehension.
Tovi refused to turn around, so she eyed Calix through the mirror. He leaned against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his fancy gray trousers. The crisp white shirt was untucked and unbuttoned to mid-chest, his feet were bare, and he hadn’t shaved that day. Tovi tried to ignore how handsome he looked in this less-severe, unkempt state.
He then spoke so softly that Tovi almost missed what he said. “I think it’s time I told you something, Tovi. And then I have an apology to make.”
She still did not turn, but she matched his gaze through the mirror.
“I am so ashamed by the way I have treated you. There is no excuse, and I have no right to even speak to you. But I beg you to hear me out.” He paused, but when she still didn’t turn, he resumed his speech. “Anger has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. I learned it from my father who used to beat my mother, my sister, and most of all me whenever he was unhappy. He died when I was young, and I was glad to see him go.”
A black tear dripped down Calix’s face, and Tovi watched it fall to his jawline. Her own anger was fading as this man opened up to her. As he continued, he walked slowly toward Tovi.
“I inherited his anger, Tovi. I hate it. His Majesty has worked for years, teaching me to harness it. And usually I can. But every once in a while, I fail completely.”
He sank to one knee beside her and reached for her hand. She finally looked away from the mirror and into his face. More tears were building in his eyes.
“I raised my hand against you, and I will never forgive myself for it. I have shown my weakness in front of you multiple times, and it is fair if you think I hate you. But that is so far from the truth. Tovi, it is the opposite. You have taken hold of my heart, and you are all that I want. So, when I have been faced with disappointments that involve you, my love, I can’t control myself. My rage is equal to my love for you. Can you see that?”
Without thinking, Tovi reached out her gloved hand and wiped the wetness from his cheek.
“Forgive me, Tovi. Please forgive me. I just want all of this to go back to what it felt like in that tree in Adia, or when we were dancing behind the hedge. Please, give me another chance to be worthy of your love.”
Tovi’s brow wrinkled as she concentrated, trying to think despite the way his words turned her mind to mush. Her heart twisted painfully at the thought of a scared little boy hiding from his father’s wrath. She saw traces of that little boy still in front of her. “I forgive you, Calix,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “But you must never strike me again.”
“Never,” he said, his eyes boldly staring into hers. “Never.” He kissed her with hunger this time, and she could hardly catch her breath. It reminded her of their first kisses after the wedding, when she had been sorely disappointed. She sighed, coming to terms with the death of her romantic ideas about how love should feel.
“It’s almost time to go. I’ll ask Cora to come back and finish your hair,” he said. “I love you, Tovi.”
An hour later, on their way to the palace, Tovi looked down for the hundredth time, smoothing silver satin over her abdomen, feeling ridiculous with her padded chest and hips.
“You look beautiful,” Calix said, leading her up a set of wide stairs. “Stop fidgeting.”
The inside of the palace was extravagant. All she had seen on her mornings with the king had been the corridors leading to the patio. Tonight, she was escorted through plush parlors and chambers. There were thick purple carpets, life-size tapestries, and the gleam of precious metals and gems. Savory aromas swam through the air, coming from golden trays held high by male servants. A large woman with long black hair stood in a corner of the throne room singing a complicated melody.
There was general chatter all around coming from the well-dressed elite of Mount Damien. Golden chandeliers with hundreds of tiny candles bathed the space in rich light. The floor was a rich, caramel-colored marble, as were the majestic columns that supported the domed glass ceiling.
Just as Thad had described the night before, all four walls—from top to bottom—were covered in scenes painted directly onto the upright stone slabs. Part of the fourth wall was covered in a dark red curtain. Tovi noticed Xanthe standing near the wall, investigating parts of the mural. As soon as she could without being noticed, Tovi slipped away and joined her. Seeing the mural up close, she realized it had to be at least a hundred years old.
Xanthe pointed at one picture in particular and whispered to Tovi, “This one must be Adwin.” She moved along, touching the same character in each scene. “Brown eyes, brown hair. Brown eyes, brown hair. Brown eyes, brown hair. It’s the same person over and over again.”
“Brown eyes?” Tovi responded, not sure what Xanthe meant. Bright blue eyes—not brown—sparkled from every inch of the mural. The hair was brown, but the eyes were definitely blue.
Their conversation was cut short as King Damien approached. He looped Tovi’s hand under his elbow and led her out of the room. He called to his butler, “Please announce dinner.”
There were several long tables set for the guests in the palace’s formal banquet hall. King Damien sat in the center and placed Tovi in the seat of honor, directly to his left, with Calix on her other side. Eryx, seated directly across from her, stayed quiet and kept his eyes averted.
Tovi could not stop thinking about the mural. Brown eyes. Blue eyes. Had Xanthe been looking at a different person? But she had pointed very clearly at the blue-eyed man. And what about the face itself? It looked just like . . . But surely not. It must just be someone who looked a lot like S—
“Tovi, answer His Majesty when he speaks to you,” Calix chastised, snapping Tovi to attention.
“I’m so sorry! I was thinking about . . . about all your beautiful artwork inside the palace. What did you ask?”
Damien chuckled. “It’s quite all right, Tovi. I’ve only just realized that we’ve spent all this time together, but I haven’t asked a thing about your family. I’d like to know more. Tell me about them.”
“I don’t know much about them really. I grew up with two guardians, not my parents. And my twin brother.”
Damien’s face went very white and his eyes flashed as if they reflected lightning. Recovering, he said, “Twins. How wonderful. What is his name?”
“Tali, Your Majesty.”
Damien’s smile was forced, and for once he was very quiet. There was a cold and exacting aura around him as he observed Tovi more closely throughout the final courses. He hardly ate.
CHAPTER 34
Ganya walked among the tall grasses that lined the bank of the river in Adia. The last light of the day sparkled on the water, which lapped with comforting rhythm against the moss-covered pebbles. Her dear friend Leora walked beside her, and both breathed in the fragrance of fresh water mixed with pine. They carried long, shallow baskets with handles looped around their bent elbows. Occasionally they would reach down to pull a plant up, roots and all, and sometimes they snapped off just the leaves or stems.
These had been long, difficult days for Ganya without her family. First Tali, then Avi, then Tovi, then Tali again—although this time she had been able to give him a long hug and grandmotherly farewell.
> She looked into the distance, letting the breeze catch wisps of her white hair. She felt so much older, so much feebler, than she had just a few weeks before. She also felt a resigned peacefulness. She had been through challenges before. With Silas’ help she’d make it through this one, too.
“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Ganya said more to herself than to Leora.
Leora looped her free arm through Ganya’s. “He always does, doesn’t he? My suspicion is that all will be well. It just may be awhile before we know what ‘well’ looks like.”
Ganya nodded and smiled at her friend. What a gift, to have a friend who was more like family. Leora had been like a sister for most of their adult lives. Nearly thirty years ago she had arrived in the early hours of the morning, soaking wet from the rising waters.
There were floods every few years, and that one was more intense than most. Once they got her to the tree house, it had been weeks before any of them stepped foot on solid ground again. Leora often laughed as she recalled her horror at being trapped up in the trees. “I thought I’d never get down. But perhaps that was Silas’ way of getting me to stay put for a while.”
She lived for a time with Ganya and Avi in the little room that would someday belong to Tovi and Tali. The Tivkas nursed her back to health, and Silas stopped in for daily visits, just as he had while she was imprisoned on the mountain. The dungeons in King Damien’s palace had done great harm to poor Leora, and she didn’t like to talk about it. However, Ganya knew her friend had been through unimaginable horrors. Leora often cried out in her nightmares, begging for her baby to be returned to her. When that would happen, Ganya would knock lightly on her door and enter the room without waiting for permission. She would hold her friend and let her weep as the candlelight chased away the demon memories.
For the last six or seven months, Leora had paid back all this kindness and more. She had walked the painful road with Ganya. Tali’s disappearance, Avi’s death . . . and then Tovi. A runaway. Ganya looked up toward the cloud-shrouded mountain and shuddered. Her life was unrecognizable from what it had been just a year ago.
They walked at a slow pace, and both were quiet until one of Leora’s feet made a loud squish. She poked at the wet ground with a toe. “Do you think it is rising? How long has it been since the last flood?”
“It’s about time for another if my memory serves me well,” Ganya said. “And the ground always knows before we do.” She ran her own feet over a watery patch of grass. “I noticed it several days ago, but I hoped I was wrong. Now I know the waters are coming.”
“We’ll need to tell the others,” Leora said. “We can send them out tomorrow to start storing up some rations. The last few have been mild. This one could be the same, or it may be a real doozy.”
They turned their backs to the river in unison, walking slowly toward the village in the treetops. “I am afraid of only one thing,” Ganya said, her voice quiet, barely heard over the breeze.
“What is it?” Leora asked.
“When the waters rise, there is no going out or coming in. What if Tali and Tovi can’t get home?”
Leora squeezed Ganya’s arm. “Silas will get them home, my friend. He always does.”
CHAPTER 35
When the grand feast was finished, the party adjourned to the patio. It was lit by several thick candles that were taller than Tovi. They were placed directly on the ground at regular intervals along the edge of the space. Their flames reached high above their heads and cast orb-like glows.
Tovi stood alone and was grateful for a few seconds of peace. As she looked around, her eyes caught those of Eryx, the fighter who had somehow known her name. He was walking toward her but stopped several feet away. They stood and stared at one another for a moment before he turned and escaped into the palace.
Checking to see that Calix and Damien were still engaged in lively conversation, she quietly followed Eryx through the wide open doors. She tiptoed through the banquet hall and down a lushly carpeted corridor, but there was no sign of Eryx anymore.
She wandered for several minutes, studying paintings and tapestries, before winding up in the throne room. She walked directly to the mural, starting her investigation to the right of the door. The first few inches were a solid, pale blue, and then rough outlines of trees and slopes began to form. Within feet, the walls were covered in an incredible landscape complete with rolling hills, vibrant plains, and a bright morning sky. She scanned the rest of the room and saw that the story ended abruptly behind the thick red curtain.
She went back to the beginning and started looking at the details. She found the face that was in almost every scene on the wall, and she frowned in concentration. Definitely blue eyes. How could Xanthe think they were brown? The man in the mural reminded her of Silas, with similar shaggy brown hair and a tall, lean frame. Her heart ached with homesickness.
She was nearly halfway around the room when the images began to change. Darker colors crept into the palette, and somehow the story was familiar. She saw a young boy sitting against a tree, contempt pouring from his eyes. Words and images flowed back to her from a distant memory, a time when Ganya had first told her the story of Adwin. “Once there was a young boy who lived on a mountain. He sat beneath a tree while the other children played.”
She was puzzled. This mural seemed ancient, but the events it portrayed happened only fifty-some years ago. Ganya and Avi had been part of the story, following Adwin off the mountain and into their new valley home. The cracks and chips in the faded paint didn’t make sense.
The next several portions of the mural showed the two together, the pouty young boy and the blue-eyed man. It showed them fishing, building a treehouse, playing a guitar and fiddle. The boy no longer looked angry. His face radiated with a joy that mirrored the man beside him. She heard Ganya’s voice again. “Adwin loved the boy and took him as an apprentice, even though he knew who the boy might become . . . ”
“We were very close in those days,” a soft voice said from across the room, making Tovi shiver. “But that was before he left me.”
She turned to see King Damien sauntering toward her, his metal-tipped boots clicking against the marble tiles. “See there? That’s me,” he said, pointing to the boy.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why would you say that?” he asked, now standing close beside her, staring at the mural.
“Look at the way it’s fading, and some of the paint is cracked. It must be at least a hundred years old.”
“You underestimate the durability of sacred prophecy, Tovi. These stone slabs have been here for much longer than that. The palace was merely built around them.”
She looked at it again, trying to understand.
“This is not a history book quite yet, dear girl, although many of these scenes have come to pass since the artist put paint to stone. See, there I am with Adwin when he taught me how to fiddle.” He pointed to one of the scenes Tovi had already examined. “I believe he goes by a different name now.”
“No, we still call him Adwin.”
Damien laughed, cruel and hollow. “So, you haven’t figured it out yet, have you?” He gazed at the painting and laughed again before turning toward Tovi. “Really, I think you have. You have just been denying it. Just as I have been denying what the color of your hair and that little star in your eye must mean.”
Tovi looked at him quietly, waiting for him to continue. Her pulse beat loudly in her ears.
Damien looked at the mural, running a pale finger over one of the scenes that depicted him as a young boy. “Adwin took a new name when he left the mountain. He is the man you call Silas.”
Tovi lost all sense of stability, her world dropping out from under her and the walls tipping and swaying. A loud buzzing filled her mind, and she reached out to steady herself against the stone. Her mind flashed to the ridge, his painting studio, the dance floor at a wedding, his sparkling blue eyes.
“Yes, yes, my dear. The one who stole
you from your parents? The one who took your brother? The one who allowed Avi to die? He and Silas are one and the same.”
Details collided in ways she had never processed before, and she felt like she might get sick. On top of the buzzing in her mind and the heartbeat in her ears, the edge of her vision was going black.
Silas had taken her from her parents and never told her the truth? Silas took her brother and never told her where he went? Silas listened to her constant questions and never gave her the answers that were right there? He could have saved her from months—years!—of torment, and he didn’t. He had actually caused the pain and agony.
The love she had for Silas was thrown under a shroud of darkness and hatred like nothing she had known before. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to be as broken as she was.
She felt another slice across her back. She took a ragged inhale, still holding the wall for support. Damien chuckled softly.
“There are many secrets that you don’t know, Tovi. Secrets so deep that few understand. These walls don’t just tell our history. They also tell our present and future. We will get to that with time. Right now, I want to tell you the true story of Adwin. I’m afraid it diverges dramatically from the tales you have been told. By the end, you will see that Silas is not a friend to be trusted.
“You see,” he said, pointing to the scene of the pouting boy under the tree, “this is where your people changed the story. I’m sure you’ve been told that I was an evil child, a greedy little boy who wanted attention. That is partially true. I didn’t understand the ways of the world yet, and I must admit I was jealous of the adoration poured onto Adwin. All I wanted was to know what it was like to be loved. My parents had always despised me, and I had no siblings. I was very alone.