Chapter 31 Isi
ISI
Heat and ice rippled through me all at once.
I could almost hear her laugh, quick and bright, the way it had been before court life dulled its edges.
I could see our mother’s hands braiding our hair by the hearth, the same blue eyes glancing down at me.
Those memories pressed in so close it felt like my sister was going to step out of the shadows.
I’d see her again if only I could turn around fast enough.
The pendant felt too heavy in my palm, the gleam of the stone pulling at me, shouting out questions I couldn’t answer.
Had she slept in the bed and looked out of this same window? Walked these floors in bare feet?
And if she had…
She could’ve been a warrior like me.
A survivor of the Rite of Bonds.
A recruit who’d bonded with a magical creature.
If my sister had slept in this room… If she was a warrior…
I couldn’t believe it was true. But the stone fit the pendant, and…
I needed to look into this. Since I was allowed to move about the castle freely, I would just need to make sure no one snuck up on me. Two attempts on my life were too many.
After dressing in a tunic and pants, I shoved my feet into my boots, and fastened them with more force than necessary.
The corridors were dim at this hour, lit only by scattered faelights that floated like lazy fireflies.
My shadow stretched and swayed across the stone as I made my way down to the first floor, the hush broken only by the occasional murmur from a servant or the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen.
I paused in the wide arch of the kitchen, the air thick with the scent of baking bread and onions sizzling in fat. A lone cook bent over a steaming pot, stirring slowly, but I didn’t see anyone else about. No Betina, either.
Striding inside, I walked right up to the woman I didn’t remember from the last time I was here.
She jumped and spun, a smile lifting on her face.
“Hungry? I have just the thing.” Easing around me, she approached a counter holding platters full of pastries and cakes.
She slid a few cookies onto a piece of cloth, wrapped it up, and returned to me, holding it out.
“This will satisfy your tummy. See if it doesn’t. ”
“Thank you.” I took it from her and tucked it into my pocket. “I was wondering if you remember a warrior about this tall.” I made a chopping motion against my upper arm. “She had dark hair, really curly, and pale blue eyes like mine.”
The cook started stirring the stew again, steam curling around her face, and shook her head. “Not that I recall.”
No answers here, then. “Thanks again for the cookies.”
“Any time, dear. Any time.”
I left and strode down a hall to my right, munching on the cookies while the scent of herbs drew me toward the infirmary.
Inside, shelves holding bottles and bandages lined the walls, and a small fire snapped in the hearth.
The pungent scents of ointment and mint clung to the air, and a thin haze of steam drifted from a kettle in the corner.
Somewhere deeper inside this area, a patient coughed, the sound muffled by a door or thick curtains.
A woman stood in front of a long table on my left, her back to me, sorting through bundles of herbs, her sleeves rolled up past her forearms. I recognized her vaguely as one of the healers who’d come after Crey’s murder.
As I approached her, she glanced over her shoulder, a sweet smile lifting on her face. “Are you injured?”
“Oh, no. I’m not.”
“Unwell?”
“Not that either.”
“Ah, then it’s your flow?” Her face smoothed. “I have just the right herb that’ll—”
“No, it’s not my flow.”
“Then you couldn’t sleep?”
“Not really.” My fingers curled inside my pockets, one hand wrapping around the rest of the cookies. “But that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to ask you about someone.”
She turned to fully face me, leaning back against the wooden table. “Go on.”
My heart thudded a little harder. “She was a recruit or a warrior,” I said, careful to keep my tone casual. “I guess a warrior.” Since I’d found the stone in a warrior’s room. “Petite, with a rounded figure. Dark curls. Pale blue eyes. Strong-willed. Outspoken. Rebellious.”
The healer’s expression brightened, and the force of the recognition in her eyes hit me square in the chest. “Do you mean Addie?”
“Yes, um, Addie, though I knew her as Adelaine.”
“She mentioned once that was her true name but that she didn’t like it. She said her sister always called her Addie.”
My heart plunged through the floor. “Did she say anything else about her sister?”
She frowned and tapped her chin with her index finger. “I don’t recall that she did.”
Why hadn’t she? She’d loved me as much as I did her. I thought of her the moment I woke, and I even dreamed of her. Alive. Happy.
Then torn apart and dumped on a ballroom floor.
“You couldn’t mistake her,” the woman said. “She had a voice like summer honey, low and smooth, but it carried. And that laugh…” Her mouth curved. “You could hear it across the courtyard. So sweet and bright.”
Some of the time.
I remembered a winter ball when she’d spoken her mind a little too freely to one of Father’s advisors, dismantling his proposal with a few, sharp questions.
Color had flooded the advisor’s face, and Addie had lifted that small, sly smile of hers.
Later, she’d crept into my room, pacing the rug with her hands twisting in her skirts.
“I went too far this time,” she’d said. “I’ll apologize tomorrow.”
Addie might be fearless, but that didn’t mean she was untouchable.
I could hear that laugh now, always a mix of defiance and delight. I’d grown up chasing that sound through gardens, through echoing hallways, always trying to catch up.
“She smelled of sun-warmed apples,” the healer said, her eyes distant now, chasing her own memories.
I’d braid Addie’s hair as she read letters in bed, the scent of apples curling from her skin after she’d lazed in the orchard all afternoon.
She’d adored the fruit; ate them every single day.
It was a challenge for the cooks to find new ways to prepare them, but they did, always hoping to draw out her infectious smile.
Fates, it had been too long since I’d smelled that scent on anyone.
“She was bonded to one of the most remarkable companions I’ve seen,” the healer added.
“Addie bonded?”
But then, she would, if she’d been a recruit and gone through the Rite of Bonds.
“A dragon. In small form, also a dragon, all lean muscle and silver-scaled wings. He always kept one wing between her and anyone else. He was as protective as a mother wolf.”
The image lanced through me. I could see it without trying: Addie striding through the halls, her small companion sitting on her shoulder, one gleaming wing curved enough to shield her from harm.
It was so close to the way Trew’s cinderhawk always seemed to settle between him and the rest of the world that my pulse stumbled.
The healer chuckled. “Once, Trew gave her permission to join a patrol in one of the villages along the border. She teased him so much about the hesitation in his voice that he couldn’t look at her without smirking for days.”
The thought of Addie and Trew sharing smiles like that sent a strange, tangled ache through me.
“She was such a happy person,” the healer said.
My chest tightened until I could not catch a breath.
After Father had promised her to Velmire’s king, her laughter had gone silent, replaced by the straight-backed sadness of someone who was being forced to do something she hated. Of someone who felt she had no choice.
Had she found a new choice here?
But none of this fit.
“How…” I had to swallow before I could finish. “How did she end up at Syllavar?”
The healer tipped her head, frowning. “She came the same as the rest of you. Walked in with her head held high, daring the Rite to take her down.”
“That wasn’t long ago.”
She frowned. “I’d say…four weeks or so? Once you bond, things go fast.”
The words tightened something deep in my gut. I remembered Lexie insisting the rebels never traveled beyond the border. An ugly rumor, she’d implied, planted by someone wanting to make this court look like monsters.
I hadn’t believed her. I was so certain I knew the truth and that I’d expose it, that I hadn’t truly listened.
“She loved it here,” the healer said with an easy smile.
The idea struck like cold water on my face. Shocking, painful. Addie had been meant for a gilded cage, not a place like this.
And yet…
What a dangerous, dangerous thought. Because the truth was, if I was honest, I was starting to like being here myself.
I crushed the thought, shoving it somewhere deep and turning the lock.
“She was close to Fenmark,” the woman said, her face taking on that knowing look. “He’s so handsome. Cousin to our beloved king. Those two ran around together all the time as boys. Competed in the same Rite. Bonded almost at the exact same time.”
I barely heard what she was saying over the rush in my ears. Every word turned into another pinprick in the story I’d been clinging to for weeks, that Addie had been stolen and murdered.
“Thank you,” I strangled out, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.
No, my sister had belonged to someone else.
After thanking the healer for her time, I stepped back out into the corridor, the air cooler, my boots whispering over the stone.
I passed an older man heading the other way, his armor muted in the dim light, smelling faintly of oiled leather. I stopped him long enough to ask my question, describing Addie as I had before.
He gave a polite but distracted shrug. “Can’t say that I’ve seen her.” At my nod, he moved on, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
I kept walking until I came to a guard posted near the eastern arch. Broad-shouldered, a scar ran from the corner of his mouth, down along his jaw. He straightened when I approached.