CHAPTER THIRTY
T HAT NECKLACE, I'VE SEEN IT before. It’s something I haven’t seen since the early years of my life when I was just a young one. Back when life was simpler and we weren’t at war. Back when I didn’t know the meaning of the word. Now, I’m all too familiar with it.
That necklace used to sit around the neck of someone we all cared about, but it’s been nigh on twenty years since we’ve seen her, and that’s because she’s dead. But is she? The thought crosses my brain and spirals before I can stop the small seed of hope from blooming in my chest. They never did recover her body—too small, they said. Probably incinerated in the blast that took out the east wing of the Maleen palace. After all, her parents were found nearly unrecognizable except for precious metals signifying that it was them.
But that would be impossible. A young female of only six years old escaping the greatest coup of our history and surviving on her own? I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts off. But too many things are lining up. Too many coincidences all at once. I need to speak to the others.
My mind drags me back to the silver chain and the pendant, intricate metalwork of delicate flowers and nestled in the middle is a beautiful sapphire jewel, the exact shade of her eyes.
Her eyes, so big and wide as she stared up at me, so full of fierce stubbornness, edged with a sort of vulnerability that made me want to scoop her up and take her back to my chamber to protect her, invade her space and keep her safe.
Then again, I always can’t help but invade her privacy. Fates, sometimes when she’s in lessons, I’ll sneak into her space and lay on her bed. I’ve gone through her things, but she doesn’t have much. Nothing at all, really; just Phixmery-issued uniforms and scraps of fabric. But I never saw the necklace, which means she must have never taken it off. Always placed on her pretty, soft skin.
I know I shouldn’t have gone in there and stopped what was happening. After all, I was supposed to be watching her from a distance. But when I saw her leave her squad chambers, exhausted and down, I couldn’t help but follow. I can always never help but follow where she’s concerned. Then I heard her fighting back, and I couldn’t take it any longer, I needed to get in there. Everything yelled at me to get in there.
When I saw what they had done to her, I felt rage like I’ve only felt a few times in my life—the worst of times.
Those wenches had no right to take her ear tips, especially not for petty, delusional reasons. And then I saw her scars.
So. Many. Fucking. Scars.
The only thing that ever leaves a mark like that is iron—I would know. My hand trails up to my useless eye where long, thick, raised tissue cuts down through my brow, eye and cheek. Someone has taken care to damage—no, not damage, she could never be damaged. But the amount of suffering she would have had to endure to bear all those marks…
My blood boils, and I want to hunt down whoever did that. They were careful to make sure it was in places that could be hidden. If she’s who I think—hope, wish, want her to be… then it’s treason.
Fuck. Where in the fates are they? If it wasn’t for Evera, I wouldn’t have to try to hunt down Talyn this late at night.
Finally, after searching every crevice of the castle I can think of, I head out onto the battlements and find him overlooking the training yard, watching the second year Dragon Riders fly over the mountains for their nightly flight training. I step up beside him, resting my arms on the stone wall as we stand here in silence while I figure out how to explain to him what went down in the female’s bathing room.
After a long stretch of silence, I turn to him, “Tal, where’s Killian? We all need to talk. I-I think I found something out about Cadet Solace. It doesn’t make any sense, but it does, and I need you to tell me I’m fucking insane—”
A bewildered expression has taken over his stoic features, making his golden eyes comically large. “Stop. He should be meeting us here any minute, or did you forget about meeting Evander tonight? What’s going on?”
I shake my head. “Let’s wait for Kill. I’ll explain on the way to The Keep. I must be insane. Looking for hope where there isn’t any,” I mutter.
“Hope? What are you talking about? Did you get drugged or something? Did Solace do this? I swear to the fates—”
“No, she didn’t do anything. I—” I don’t know how to explain it. Should I just tell him never mind? Because the chances of her being the princess of Damorleia are practically non-existent. Who knows how many of those necklaces were crafted or where she got it.
Talyn’s voice softens, the worry etched clear as day on his face, even out under the light of the full moon. “Jesp, what’s going on? You’re concerning me right now.”
“Why is he concerning you?” the deep voice of Killian rumbles as he joins us on the battlement.
Talyn greets him with a nod, not removing his worried gaze from me. “He’s rambling and distraught.”
“So, the usual. What makes this different?” He assesses me, like he can physically spot the turmoil within me.
I just need to get it over with, tell them my insane irrational thoughts, let them tell me I’m crazy and move on, going back to finding out her secrets… But wouldn’t this explain everything? I turn away from them, gripping the stone wall of the battlement so hard my nails chip, letting the biting pain center me. My thoughts run over everything that happened one more time, enjoying the thought of ‘what if’ before they’re quashed by my brothers. But something in my chest pulls at remembering the injured, beautifully naked, stubborn female as she fought off her attackers. I push the picture of her away, focusing back on the necklace, squeezing my eyes shut so tightly it damn near aches.
The words leave my lips in a hushed whisper, letting the gentle night breeze carry the forbidden words to them. “I think Cadet Ravina Solace is Princess Maeven Pendroko, Heir to the Damorleia throne.”
THEY WOULDN'T HEAR of it. Killian shut down in a silent rage and Talyn went silent. They wouldn’t even let me explain my reasoning. All I got from Tal was, “Soon. Let’s just get this meeting over with, but Jesp, she’s dead. Zorn searched for her, remember?”
Tisur has been much more understanding, humming and hawing at all my inner ramble. I just wanted to explain it to them, get it over with, go back to how things were before this preposterous thought wormed its way in. But I can’t help thinking of the ‘what if’s, and most importantly, why doesn’t she recognize us? Why wouldn’t she have sought us out and asked for our help? We would have done anything for her. But we were only mere fledglings at the time. Even so, she could have found us when she was older.
After taking our dragons out for a flight, we land near the forest where the first trials took place and silently head inside. The tension between my brothers and me is palpable, but we can’t let it get in the way of our goal for the night: meeting Evander and sending a message to Zorn. Getting Cynder out is an absolute must. She was safe in the Craven household, but it’s clear that isn’t the case any longer.
Evander appears in his pixie form and snaps to his life-size one right before our eyes. His short, messy red hair is wild from travels, and his deep violet eyes land on me, checking me over for what I’m assuming are injuries. I nearly scoff. If anyone should be worried, it’s me. My younger brother is gallivanting with rebels and thieves. I mean, I’m no better with the trouble I get myself into, but it’s my job. Not his.
I try to tamp down on the frustration at his choices. Cynder. This is for Cynder.
“Brother, it’s good to see you again,” he says softly, worried that I’ll ignore him yet again.
This time I manage to jerk my chin down in a slight nod before turning my attention to our self proclaimed leader: Talyn.
He takes a step towards my brother, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. “As you have guessed, we need to get a message to our mutual friend. I need to arrange safe passage and a place for Cynder to stay. It’s not safe anymore, and I need her out of Allonde before The Choosing, preferably sooner rather than later.”
My brother’s voice becomes confident, steady as he answers. “You know he’s already offered to get her out, you just needed to say the word. I can arrange to get her out by the end of the week, although you may not like how it happens.”
I snap towards him. “You’re not using those damn pirates that you’ve befriended!”
His eyes narrow on me. “They’re good males, Jesper. I trust them with my life.”
“A life you seem to have little regard for,” I snap. “I’ve spent my whole life making sure you and mother were safe, out of the reach of the lords and evils of this realm. And what do you do? You fly into it all head-first!” I bellow, letting my temper get the best of me, but I don’t care, not right now.
He steps towards me, his face tight with rage. “You’ve been doing the same thing, Jesper. What’s the difference if I do it too? I’m helping fae, nulls, lessers, my people too!”
“Yeah? And who’s going to be there for mother if we’re both dead?”
“Enough, both of you. Now is not the time for this!” Talyn roars. “Can you promise me that no harm will come to her? If anything does happen, I will take Zaddro and I will sink their ship before hunting each and every last one of them down.”
He places his hand on his chest and tips his head. “I swear on my life and my crew that no harm will come to her,” he murmurs solemnly.
Talyn glances at me, and with reluctance I nod. He would never swear on his life if he didn’t mean it, especially after the threats Tal just bestowed upon him.
I let them sort out the details, but the less we know, the better. Evander will send a sign when the task is done and she’s heading to safety. Now all we have to do is get a message to Cynder so she doesn’t make a fuss about being taken in the dead of night—fates know she would go down swinging. Her and Maeven would have gotten along well together.
Before my brother leaves, he nods his head at me before shrinking down to the size of my index finger and zooming away, faster than the eye can see.
When he’s long gone, Talyn lets his shoulders droop, the only sign of relief he shows and only momentarily before he murmurs, “Explain.”
Killian curses but doesn’t move, wanting to hear what I have to say about my lapse in my usual insanity.
So with only minor hesitation, now that we are in a place safe for speaking, I inform them of what happened in the bathroom between Evera, the blonde wench who is glued to her side, and Little Mouse. I leave out the scars for some reason, knowing that it’s not my place to say, and for some reason I want to keep that information to myself. Maybe it’s so one day I can hold it against her if I need to, who knows.
I’m not sure how long we stand there in silence, with nothing but our breaths and the sounds of the forest to fill in the dread and hope that’s forming in my chest. Why aren’t they saying anything? Why aren’t they telling me that I’m crazy?
Finally, Talyn breaks the silence. “I would have recognized her scent,” he states.
“We all would have the moment we saw her,” Kill grunts, crossing his tree trunk-sized arms across his chest.
I shake my head. “I thought about that, too. Tal, didn’t you say her scent has been changing, yet that it smells familiar somehow? What if the reason she’s hiding her magick is not because she doesn’t want to use it, but to not bring attention to herself? If she is Maeven, she would have realized how dangerous it would be coming here. Her familiar has already given her enough attention. Plus she hasn’t used her other magick in front of us, otherwise I’m sure we would have sensed it.” Fuck, why am I arguing for this? Maybe it’s so I can get it all off my chest, and when they tell me I’m crazier than usual, I can continue on my merry way.
Killian punches the tree next to him. Bark splinters and cracks as it shatters, leaving a sizable hole where his fist made impact. “Then why doesn’t she remember us?” he bellows, panting, the hold on his magick hanging on by a shredding thread.
The question hangs like an iron blade over our heads. Why doesn’t she remember us?
That’s when a piece of the puzzle possibly slides together. “The impenetrable shield on her mind… What if that has something to do with it?” I ask the others, trying to stomp out the desire for this to be true.
Talyn shakes his head. “I don’t know. Either way, we need more information. If this block is on her mind, how do we know it wasn’t placed there by the enemy? She could have no idea who we are, or she may not even know her true origins. It would explain why Zorn wasn’t able to find her. After The Choosing, we will find a way to get rid of the block and find out what she knows. Until then, let’s just focus on getting a message to Cyn and keeping an eye on Solace.”
Killian says nothing as he storms back to Voissor, the forest trembling with every rage-filled step he takes, while Tal and I silently follow after him. Why couldn’t they have just told me I’m insane like they normally do… I don’t think I could handle it, if this little flickering flame of hope were to blow out and she really has been dead all this time. Yet a worse thought crosses my mind—what if she was alive and put through horrors without us by her side?