CHAPTER NINE
The Secrets of Silver City
Liv
The damn sun is taking forever to set.
I begged permission to leave the inn early tonight, so I could make it to the Towers in time for the full moon tour.
The innkeeper strongly implied that I might be sleeping in an alleyway tonight, but I shrugged it off.
Honestly, at this point, an alley doesn’t sound that bad.
At least I would have the alley to myself.
I practically ran up the streets of Silver City. And now here I am, standing with a small crowd of tourists as the shadows swallow the streets around the tall, white walls of the Towers.
My throat feels tight, like I’m still trying to catch my breath after running up here.
Because I haven’t actually seen Pytr, have I?
All the time I’ve spent in Silver City, all the mornings I’ve walked up these streets to stare through the gate until the guards started paying attention to me, and there’s been no sign of the man I married.
But it’s a big city. And, hells, I’ve only seen a tiny corner of what’s inside the Towers.
He has to be in there somewhere, doing whatever it is you do at a place where humans learn how to wield magic.
Maybe he looks out of the windows at the stars, and he remembers that summer night when he walked me home.
Or maybe there’s someone else.
Another woman, some Silver City lady with elegant clothes and soft hands. Sometimes, Old Rae’s voice whispers in my head, a man that leaves his wife doesn’t want to be found.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge those words.
Pytr keeps his promises. That’s what he told me that night, after he walked me home from the Harvest Festival while the stars danced above us.
We stopped at the gate to my mother’s cottage.
He took my hand in his and brought it to his mouth, and I swear, I felt the brush of his lips against my knuckles in every part of my body.
Sure, I’d kissed a few boys before, but that was nothing like Pytr pressing his lips to my hand.
“I promised I’d bring you home safe,” he said, as the light from the windows caught in his eyes and spilled across his soft, full lips. “I keep my promises.”
And then he kissed me properly, his lips to mine, and all the promises I’d made to myself about never falling for anyone, about protecting my heart no matter what, they broke into pieces at my feet.
My chest aches and my eyes burn. I pull the ticket from my pocket and stare at it, tracing the curve of the inky moon, the narrow lines of the sketched towers, until my vision clears.
Pytr is in there. Because he has to be. Because the alternative is just too terrible to imagine.
A low murmur moves through the crowd, a buzz of excitement.
I look up. The gates to the Towers open slowly and silently.
A man in white robes stands behind the gates, watching us.
Fear blossoms in my chest like a strange nocturnal flower, and despite everything, some part of me whispers to run away, to go back to the inn, back to the river, back home.
That whatever waits inside those gates isn’t worth the risk.
Stupid. I square my shoulders and squeeze the ticket to stop my hands from shaking. And then I join the crowd filing through the gates, handing our tickets to the guards and then standing with the rest of the crowd in the strange, quiet courtyard.
A bell rings. The sound is so sharp and sudden that I jump. The voices around me fall silent. The man in white raises his arms in a way that almost looks like prayer.
“Welcome,” he calls, his voice booming through the courtyard. “Welcome to the secrets of Silver City.”
He smiles at us then, but if that smile is meant to be welcoming, he’s missed the mark by leagues. Shivers trace a path up my spine, and that voice whispers again to get out of here, to run. I pull in a breath and turn away from the man in white, examining the courtyard instead.
“Prepare yourself,” the man in white continues. “For tonight, you will witness wonders unlike anything you have ever seen!”
The crowd gasps. I narrow my eyes, trying to peer through the shadows that ring the courtyard. There are other people here, people in dark robes walking through the courtyard or leaning against the walls.
“Tonight,” the man says, his voice echoing off the cold stone, “you will witness magic under human control!”
The crowd gasps again and begins to surge forward, following the man in white.
I wait for them to pass me, then follow at the very back of the tour.
The man in white is leading them all into a room at the base of one of the towers.
I stand behind an older couple, scanning the courtyard as they shuffle along.
There are a few carts, some barrels, and a group of people sitting near the gate with their backs against the wall, whispering to each other.
And on the other side of the courtyard, dressed in black and standing next to an open door—
I freeze.
Memories pour through me like molten iron.
Pytr asking me to dance during the Harvest Festival.
His eyes in the light from the windows as he kissed my hand.
The way the sun caught in his dark curls when he got down on one knee by the river and asked me to do him the honor of joining my life with his.
His fingers against my cheek. The way he smiled when he brought me tea in the morning.
The crowd moves on without me. The air fills with a buzz of excitement, chatter, and laughter, and I can’t move.
Because that’s Pytr.
Standing with his back against the wall, watching the empty door beside him. A dark cloak hides his face, but I know those shoulders, the curve of his arms, the way he leans his left foot against the wall.
That’s my husband.
Someone screams, and the spell breaks. I jump. There’s another scream, and the crowd surges around me.
“What is that?” a woman cries.
The crowd pulls back. I look at the spot where the crowd is recoiling, then immediately turn away. It looks almost like a rat, the massive, glossy black creature dragging itself across the stones, but part of it is— missing.
I step away from the crowd, then turn back to Pytr.
My heart stops.
He’s moving, and moving fast. He’s walking across the courtyard, or almost running, his head down, that same loping gait I saw every morning as he walked off to work someone else’s fields, and I went to help with the laundry or the baking or whatever else someone would pay me to do.
But now there’s a woman on his arm.
She’s small, wearing an ugly mustard-colored robe with a flash of blonde hair spilling down the back. Pytr holds her close to his body like he’s afraid someone is going to yank her away.
I step backward as the courtyard blurs with tears. The crowd rushes around me, screaming and frantic, as that rat thing drags itself toward the shadows. I don’t realize I’ve reached the wall until my shoulders hit stone and my legs give out.
I fold in on myself, sinking to the paving stones like I’ve been punched in the gut. The world in front of me might as well be on a stage, or in the pages of a storybook. Even the screaming feels like it’s coming from far, far away.
Pytr vanishes through the gate, swallowed by the Silver City with the blonde woman at his side.
My heart refuses to stop beating as the crowd slowly reassembles, then filters into the door at the base of the tower. I wait for someone to notice me, to drag me out of the shadows and force me to join the rest of the tour, but no one does. Hells, for all I know, I’ve become invisible.
My head drops to my knees. The sound of my breathing feels loud in the sudden, soft silence, the absence of the crowd. The absence of my husband.
When my father left, I swore to myself I’d never let that happen again. My mother cried at night, when she thought we were asleep, and every time I heard those muffled sobs, I promised over and over again that I would never let anyone break my heart. Not like that. Not ever.
I raise my head slowly, then wipe my eyes with my fists.
There are still a few people moving around the courtyard, doing whatever it is that needs to be done in a place like this.
But no one is looking at me. It’s so dark against this wall that they probably can’t even see me. I’ll be hidden until the morning.
And the gate is still open. I let my head rest against the wall as I stare at the gate.
When Pytr comes back, he’ll have to go through that gate. There’s no other entrance; I’ve been around the full length of the Towers’s walls. And when he comes back, I’ll be here. Watching. Waiting.
“And I’m going to kill him,” I whisper to the darkness.