33
I ran to my room, searching for Misty’s slumbering form on the pillows. She was nowhere to be found.
Of course not. She was with Pippin.
I started down the hall, but I didn’t have to go far before I saw her with the tabby.
“Misty!” My voice cracked.
She leaped into my arms, putting her paws on my shoulders when she saw my tears.
I knelt. My throat was too tight to speak, so I let my jumbled thoughts flow to her. Or tried to. But her usual presence—a comforting ball of warmth at the front of my mind—wasn’t there.
“Misty?” She was on my lap, looking at me with those intelligent green eyes. And yet, she wasn’t. Panic crawled up my throat. Why couldn’t I hear her? “Misty, talk to me. Please .”
Her ears turned back, eyes dilating. She meowed again. Pippin approached, nudging my arm with his head and joining with deeper meows of his own.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t understand. A sob tore through my throat. Then another. And then another.
Something in me broke. It felt like my lungs collapsed. Hot tears welled in my eyes and ran down my chin in salty, uncontrollable rivers as I gasped for breath. I had lost everything.
I let myself weep like I had never before, clutching Misty to my chest, and eventually Pippin too. My whimpers echoed in the empty hallway. I didn’t care if anyone overheard. I was alone, like I’ve always been.
Now, more so than ever.
That was how Lady Vanessa found me—sobbing in the middle of the hall and holding onto the two cats like my life depended on it.
“Narcissa?” She knelt, taking my clenched hands in her own. They were warm and smooth, her beautiful face creased with concern.
I shook my head vehemently. It was all I could manage before I gave another strangled sob.
“What is it, my darling?”
The endearment only brought fresh tears. Lady Vanessa hesitated before gently prying Pippin out of my arms.
Her soft eyes steeled with determination. “Let’s get you to bed. ”
I was too numb to know how she did it, but in a blink of an eye, I was in my nightgown, my face wiped clean and my hair combed out. Lady Vanessa helped me onto the mattress and drew a thick blanket to my chin. Misty curled herself above my pillow, her whiskers tickling my forehead.
“This one too?” Lady Vanessa asked, lifting Pippin from the floor. When I didn’t answer, she shrugged and tucked the tabby cat in next to me.
Pippin purred and licked my chin. A hot tear trailed down my temple, soaking into my pillowcase. My skin stung. I never realized how much crying hurt.
“Oh, my dear girl,” Lady Vanessa said, her face softening. She took a seat, dipping the mattress, and stroked my hair in a slow, comforting rhythm. I buried my face into the pillow, chest racking with new sobs.
My hysterics didn’t seem to bother her in the least. She continued gently, as if petting a kitten or consoling a child.
Eventually, my breathing evened. My eyelids were swollen and throbbing, glued shut by dried tears. Lady Vanessa had withdrawn her hand. Soft footsteps fell on the rug, punctuated by the sound of a doorknob being turned.
“Maddox? Where have you been?” Lady Vanessa asked in a hushed voice. A slice of warm light cut into the room. “You look awful.”
“Fulfilling the king’s orders.” He sounded exhausted. “We surrounded the rebel meeting.”
Lady Vanessa gasped. “Rebels? Here? And you and your father didn’t think to tell me?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think anyone was supposed to know,” Maddox said sheepishly.
Lady Vanessa exhaled. “What happened? Is it safe now?”
Maddox’s armor clinked. “Most of them got away, but we contained some. And the general’s son. That’s the most important thing, His Majesty said.”
“The general’s...?” Lady Vanessa made a noise at the back of her throat. “Never mind. You’re safe—that is all that matters. Did you see the king recently?”
“Yes. He just dismissed us for the night. Why?”
There was a pause. “It’s just that your sister...”
“What about Narcissa?” Maddox asked.
Lady Vanessa’s skirts swished. I pictured her wringing the fabric. “She hasn’t been well since King Maximus asked to see her tonight. He didn’t look happy.”
“Does he ever?” Maddox’s boots squeaked against the marble. “What’s wrong with Narcissa?”
“I don’t know. She had a splitting headache in the middle of the show and had to leave. I found her in the hall crying. I’m not entirely sure what happened.”
“Maybe Giselle knows. I’ll go ask her,” Maddox said, stifling a yawn.
“Nonsense. Don’t disturb a respectable girl in the middle of the night.”
He snickered. “Ha! Respectable.”
Lady Vanessa smacked him. “Off to bed with you. Your Father and I will deal with this in the morning.”
“Er...Father left. With His Majesty and the crown prince.”
“Oh?”
“His Majesty wants to settle the situation with the general as soon as possible. He took a few of the rioters, too. It’s a time-sensitive matter and Father—”
“I understand,” Lady Vanessa said. She took a shaky breath. “Go rest, alright?”
“Alright. Good night, Mother.” Maddox kissed her and went off. The door closed softly. I was surprised to hear footsteps on the rug again. The mattress dipped and Lady Vanessa’s gentle hand found my hair once more.
“There now, darling,” she whispered. “Sleep well.”
A LOUD CRASH JOLTED me from my slumber.
“I know her! I know her!” Giselle barged into my room, shaking a paper violently over her head.
I squinted, trying to decipher the blur of ink. She sat hard on the bed, waking Pippin and Misty. The cats yowled in displeasure.
Last night’s events rushed over me. The king’s decision. The disappearance of my magic. Bennett leaving. Tightness seized my throat again, but I didn’t have time to wallow.
Giselle shoved the paper into my hands. It was the opera flier, wrinkled from her handling. “Her,” she practically spat, pointing at the likeness of Celeste on the page.
“Celeste? I thought you didn’t know her,” I croaked.
“Not as Celeste, the famous opera singer. As that good-for-nothing witch child Cecelia who tormented my youth.” Giselle ground her teeth. “I knew she looked familiar. If only I had known before. I’ll bet my life that she’s behind the rebel meetings!”
I vaguely recalled Giselle’s anecdote about the witch who had played pranks on her. The witch who...
“She’s the one who removed magic?” I asked hoarsely. Misty perked up, scrambling to my side. The absence of her voice in my head throbbed like a fresh wound.
“Exactly,” Giselle said.
I drew Misty close, desperately seeking comfort as I relived the splitting headache last night. Not only that, but the mild headache I had when I heard her sing for the first time.
Was that the removal of my magic—or the beginnings of it? Misty claimed I was ignoring her that night. I wasn’t—I just didn’t hear her. But I understood Pippin perfectly well the day after. Was that why Celeste wanted me to see her show a second time?
Giselle’s jaw slackened, as if noticing my state for the first time. “What happened?”
I pulled my blanket around me as I recounted last night’s show, how Celeste had begged me to come, how her singing affected me. “I...I can’t understand Misty anymore.” The words alone brought fresh tears to my eyes, though they burned and ached for respite. Misty pressed herself into my side.
Giselle’s face fell.
“Oh, Narcissa.” She pulled me into a tight hug and drew away, a deep crease appearing between her brows. “She found a new way of working her magic. I would have never imagined singing. How did she manage that?” Giselle seemed to be talking to herself more than to me.
I stared at my lap, my hand still buried in Misty’s fur. At least she was still with me physically. But I would never hear her talk again.
Father was right. The silence hurt. How could he ever bear to remove his magic voluntarily?
Giselle pounded her fist into her palm. “Cecelia, Celeste, whatever her name is, is obviously targeting you. But why? What is her purpose in all this?” She frowned at me. “Narcissa, we have to tell Crown Prince Bennett and King Maximus.”
I looked away. “They left last night. His Majesty made it clear he no longer needed my efforts. ”
“What? What do you mean?” Giselle demanded. “This is important! She’s obviously involved with the rebels.”
I squeezed my swollen eyes. “His Majesty thinks I am an unwelcome distraction to the crown prince,” I said quietly.
I told her his suspicions that Bennett was under my influence and that we planned to go against his orders.
Giselle’s face grew redder by the second. “ Unwelcome distraction ? He might as well blame his son for having a working pair of eyes!” She stood and paced the room in a swirl of turquoise skirts. “You’re telling me King Maximus thinks capturing the general’s boy is more important than passing the laws that could very well end this whole debacle?”
“He detained Dominic last night,” I said. “He’ll pass the laws soon enough.”
“Yes, but what about the press?” Giselle said, tugging at her dark hair. “He might as well have sabotaged himself, using the Royal Guard like that. The only reason the people are rebelling is that his policies are lacking.”
She was voicing the same thoughts I had before, but somehow I couldn’t muster an ounce of concern. What was the point now? King Maximus already discharged me from my duty.
Bennett was wrong. I was not fit to be the crown princess. My devotion was a charade, something I adopted to ease my guilt. I was every bit as selfish as Mother. Now, I was facing my punishment.
The memory of Bennett shutting the door resurfaced. At least his devotion to Olderea hadn’t wavered. I lifted my chin so the tears wouldn’t fall. It was better this way. I never deserved his affection in the first place.
“Are you seriously going to let Celeste go unnoticed?” Giselle demanded .
“If she’s really behind this they will find out eventually,” I said. My voice sounded hollow.
The seamstress thinned her lips, eyes blazing.
“Forget it. I’m going to find Maddox,” she said. “Maybe he will listen to sense.”
Lady Vanessa came in a moment after, looking more surprised than offended as Giselle marched off without a word.
“I thought you’d be hungry by now,” Lady Vanessa said.
The tray in her hands was laden with a steaming bowl of cheddar pear soup and biscuits baked golden brown. A tantalizing pairing, even in my state.
She set it down on the bedside table. I ducked my head, sure I looked a mess.
“Thank you,” I said, hugging Misty to me.
Lady Vanessa tapped her fingers. “Are you cold? There are quite a few blankets in my quarters. An excess, really,” she said with a laugh. “I could bring a few if you’d like.”
I realized the feeling blooming in my chest was shame. Shame and guilt. The combination made me want to curl into a ball.
Why was she so kind to me? I spurned her the moment I stepped foot in Greenwood Abbey. I had intruded on her home. I was a stranger, the illegitimate child she knew nothing about. The daughter of a woman her husband had once loved. A traitor.
That was enough for anyone to scorn me, yet Lady Vanessa was nothing but compassionate. She didn’t pry. Didn’t demand answers, even when she found me sobbing in the middle of a hallway. She had put me to bed and coddled me like her own child.
The pressure in my chest compelled me to speak. “I-I’m sorry.”
Lady Vanessa tilted her head. “For being cold? It’s no trouble, dear, I’ll just—”
I grabbed her sleeve when she made a move to get up. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. I blinked rapidly as another surge of tears pressed against my eyeballs. Blazing fires, when would it stop? “And...thank you. Again.”
My stilted words encompassed all I wanted to say but couldn’t.
Lady Vannessa melted and drew me into a hug. She smelled of gardenias and biscuits, her embrace soft and motherly. After a moment’s hesitation, I wrapped my arms around her.
“There’s no need to apologize,” Lady Vanessa said. “We’re family, are we not?”
Misty slipped out discreetly, settling next to Pippin.
I managed a nod. I knew if I tried to speak, I’d burst into tears.