Chapter Twenty-Four #3
She sounded too much like her mother. I gave Nya an icy glare. “He isn’t going to do that.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
A familiar red light danced along my periphery.
Dimia picked at her fingernails, her eyes bright, voice dreamy. “Perhaps because he likes her far too much to arrest her.” She put a hand to her heart. “How romantic.”
This is insufferable , the Nightmare muttered.
Beyond, the red light grew closer. “Not every story is a fairy tale, Dimia,” I said.
Nya’s eyes narrowed. “Then explain why he was embracing you.”
But I was already slipping away. When my half sisters shouted after me, I merely waved, trailing the tall man in black and the red light emanating from his pocket.
I reached Elm in several leaping steps. When I clung to his arm, he jumped, spilling half his goblet of wine onto the street.
The Prince looked down at me with wide green eyes. I found myself almost smiling. “I’ve a favor to ask,” I said, glancing back. “You’ll need your Card.”
A moment later, Nya and Dimia were giggling like maniacs, their blue eyes wide as they let out long, singsong giggles. “Such a beautiful day!” Nya gleamed, her smile so wide I could count every tooth.
“Let’s go find the wine cart,” Dimia twittered, offering Elm and me a swooping wave before skipping with her twin out of the square, the red ribbons of their masks flickering in the midday light.
I laughed, watching them go. “Silly little things.”
Destriers passed us, nodding to Elm before dispersing throughout the square. The Prince tapped his Scythe Card, releasing my half sisters from its compulsion, and drained the remnants of his goblet. “Terribly annoying, your clan.”
“Can’t choose family, can we?”
He chuckled, hoisting a new goblet off a nearby merchant’s table. “Sadly, no.”
I didn’t push it—didn’t ask what had tipped the King’s youngest son over the edge into lawlessness and treason—what had made him betray his own father.
There was an unevenness to the Prince’s temperament that made me nervous, and I did not think he would react kindly to the violation of his privacy.
“Wine?” he said, retrieving a second goblet.
“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
“You intend to endure Market Day sober?” He looked up and down the stalls, his voice low. “You don’t see any… you know… Chalice Cards, do you?”
I cast my eyes about for the telltale turquoise color. “No. Why?”
“Can’t be too cautious,” he said, taking a deep swill. “Truth serum is the last thing I need these days.”
The wine was sweeter than I’d imagined. I sipped it slowly, my eyes on the shifting crowd. “What happens now?”
“A few families will be gifted some worthless trinkets from one of my father’s merchants. My brother and a few knights will drone on about the Card trade and the decline of crime—maybe parade Ravyn and the Destriers around for good show. Same old, same old.”
I tapped my finger on my goblet. “We could be in my father’s house right now, doing something of actual use.”
“Hauth and the Destriers would notice our absence. Besides,” Elm said, taking another deep swill, “you seem to be having a lovely time reconnecting with your sisters.”
I rolled my eyes. “Half sisters.”
“What did they want?”
“Nothing,” I said. Then after a pause, “They think Ravyn’s going to find out what I am and arrest me.”
Elm smiled into his goblet. “He might not arrest you,” he said, “but he’ll eventually find out what you are. The truth always outs.”
Something in his voice caught me. “What do you mean?”
Elm turned to me, his green eyes narrowing. “It’s different for Ravyn,” he said. “He’s not skeptical of your infection, your magic. When he looks at you, he feels he knows you—wants to help you. You make him remember why he’s done everything he’s done, and why he must continue on doing it.”
The Prince took small, purposeful sips from his goblet, savoring the wine. “But when I look at you, Spindle, I see something else,” he said. “I see someone secretive, guarded. I see someone who hasn’t been forthright with us.”
To the color draining rapidly from my face, he merely smiled.
“A woman who’s spent most of her life hiding in her uncle’s house, quiet and secluded, can stand in combat against trained men-at-arms? Can catch knives midair and maim my brother without the aid of a Black Horse?”
He brushed the hair from my forehead, tucking it behind my ear. “And your eyes,” Elm said. “Black as ink. Only, when the light is just right, I can see yellow in them. The same yellow I saw two nights ago in the wood, when you knocked your father to the ground.”
I felt as if I’d swallowed my tongue.
In the darkness behind my eyes, the Nightmare slithered, his claws scraping against bone. Let me out.
Absolutely not.
He’s already seen my eyes. Why not let me speak to him?
They’re my eyes , I stammered. Mine, not yours! They should be black, not yellow.
Should they? he purred. You said so yourself. I’m getting stronger.
When I remained silent, the Nightmare swaddled my mind in darkness. What’s yours is mine when the shadows draw near. You asked for my help—and now I am here. With your eyes I do see, with your ears I do hear. There’s no going back—this is payment, my dear.
I felt sick, the wine turning to bile in my stomach. What do I tell him?
“Elspeth?”
Tell him the truth.
I can’t do that.
“Elspeth.”
I jerked away from the voice in my head and set my goblet down, forcing my shaking hands into my sleeves.
Elm watched me fixedly, some of the levity drained from his features. “You still there?” he asked.
But I had no time to respond. I’d barely a moment to brace myself before I was knocked aside by three Destriers pushing into the center of the square, their weapons drawn.
“Make way!” one called, his voice ripping through the crowd. “Make way!”
Elm was upon them in a moment, all hint of intoxication faded from his voice. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“An infected child, sire,” a Destrier answered, out of breath. “He’s been collected by Physician Orithe, and his parents arrested. High Prince Hauth wants an example made of them.”
Suddenly the square was filled with the dark color of Black Horses. Five more Destriers stepped forward, a man and a woman—bloodied—carried between them. The crowd opened up, engulfing them.
Shouts echoed, and I was pushed with the rest of the onlookers to the edge of the square, Hauth Rowan and the Destriers were busy at work tying the prisoners by their hands.
A hush fell over the crowd, all joy and camaraderie evaporated, replaced with sickening silence.
I wrapped my arms across my chest, retreating into my mind, searching for courage.
But I felt only darkness.