Chapter 27 #2
The old man who steps out from behind the statue is dressed in plain golden robes that trail behind him on the ground.
His shoulders are stooped, hunched forward with age, and his hands are tucked into a pair of delicate gloves.
The skin on his face sags loosely, almost as pale as the wispy white beard stretching down to his navel.
Realization turns my insides to ice.
For I am looking into the beady black eyes of Caius Castellion.
He inclines his head pleasantly before glancing round at the statue behind him. ‘A good likeness, wouldn’t you say? I was younger then, of course. Barely entering my prime.’
I stare at him, wide-eyed and terrified. This man conquered my homeland and enslaved my people. He is a monster. Nobody’s seen him since the Binding Ceremony. What is he doing here? And what answer will I give if he asks me the same question?
His mouth curves into a mirror image of the smile adorning his statue, as though he can hear the cogs of my brain ticking and whirring and is amused by it.
Fear prickles down the back of my neck, sweat dewing on my brow. Before I can clamp down on them, my shadows spring forth to defend me.
No.
I stumble backwards, colliding with another statue.
Caius Castellion looks neither shocked nor scared nor outraged. He just continues to smile pleasantly, utterly unfazed by the darkness swarming around me.
I wonder briefly about his eyesight, then his mental faculties. I consider whether to make a break for it. It’s not like he’d be able to catch me. But what if he were to tell someone about this? What if he were to tell Hal? He is his grandfather, after all.
The old man sighs. ‘Don’t be afraid, girl. I mean you no harm.’
Surprise slices through fear, and my shadows begin to melt away. He can’t be serious. This is the emperor who sought to eradicate the Magi, who revelled in the loss of their magic. Why does he look so calm? And why is he smiling at me?
‘Come now,’ he says dismissively. ‘If I was planning on killing you, I would have done it the second your powers were returned to you, if not before. Or, if I’d wanted to avoid this scenario altogether, I could have just killed her.
Kind of you, to bandage her cut hand. Kindness that was rewarded in ways neither of you could’ve imagined. ’
I shake my head slowly, perplexed.
‘But I digress,’ the old man continues. ‘Reports of Haldyn’s ill health have reached far and wide. It is for my grandson that I have returned, not to murder the girl he loves.’
My insides turn from ice to stone. The game is up. He knows. He knows. But how?
I blink, trying to clear my head. ‘I … I don’t … understand.’
‘No,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘I should imagine not.’
‘How … how do you …’
‘I could wait for you to stumble to the end of your sentence, but it seems unnecessary, for the answer would be the same. I know many things.’ He presses the tips of his gloved fingers together, thumbs forming an arch.
‘I once thought I knew everything, but it seems I was wrong. The future is not a fixed entity. It twists and alters every passing day. Just as I’m beginning to see it clearly, she does something to change its mind.
For she is the key, and keys unlock many doors, each of them leading to myriad different fates, infinite possibilities – some good, some bad, some catastrophic, but all equally plausible. ’
I stare blankly at him. This man speaks in riddles. ‘You … you said you came back for Hal,’ I stutter. ‘Do you know what’s wrong with him?’
He ignores me. ‘Shall I tell you a story, girl?’
My voice is breathless. ‘Please, if you could just –’
He cuts me off. ‘Are you familiar with The Tragedy of Emmeric and Irabella?’
My mouth tips open, then snaps shut. Of course I’m familiar with that particular tale.
Ingra even teasingly refers to me and my secret lover by the names of the titular characters.
But what does it have to do with anything?
And why does Caius Castellion wish to tell it to me? I was right. He must be senile.
The old man doesn’t seem to require a response, for he clears his throat with a dragging cough and begins.
‘Noble, handsome Emmeric was born into a powerful family. He was heir to a large fortune and wanted for nothing. Yet our tragic hero was lonely. He wished for only one thing – to find true love.’
He pauses to grin crookedly at me.
‘Irabella was a rare beauty, with hair like cornsilk and eyes as bright as jewels. But she was also penniless, a mere servant, and because of this, nobody ever really saw her. Nobody, except for Emmeric. Their love was pure and unselfish, soul-deep and star-crossed. And yet with love comes sacrifice. Emmeric could not allow his family to discover the truth for fear of what they might do, and so his relationship with Irabella had to be kept secret.’
The old man starts walking among the statues, limping a slow figure of eight.
‘Despite those who sought to keep them apart, all the young lovers wanted was to be together. Only their plans were foiled. Do you know why, girl?’
I wet my lips. ‘Because Emmeric was cursed.’
‘Indeed he was,’ the old man agrees. ‘He was cursed by a vengeful witch who blamed his family for her people’s ruin. Every story needs a villain, you know.’
I frown slightly, having long considered Emmeric’s power-hungry relations to be the villains of this tale.
‘She cursed the first-born sons of their House,’ Caius Castellion continues.
‘In destroying their legacy, she took away their dominion. An eye for an eye, as the Fidra say.’ For some reason, this expression seems to amuse him, and he lets out a wheezy chuckle.
‘Irabella was forced to watch her love sicken and die, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it.’ He sighs wistfully, stroking his beard. ‘A tragedy indeed.’
I shrink backwards as he comes to a stop in front of me.
‘I told your friend Blaze a different story. She knows the beginning, you know the end. Though of course, there are no beginnings and endings. As one thing ends, another begins – a perpetual cycle, an eternal existence, a life thread that stretches on forevermore.’
A shiver travels down my spine. I can hear my heartbeat accelerate, a pounding frenzy next to the old man’s rattling plod. ‘What does Blaze have to do with any of this?’
His black eyes are depthless, as dark and cold as death. ‘Everything.’
I grit my teeth against the mounting confusion. ‘I … don’t …’
‘Come now,’ he scolds. ‘Use that pretty head of yours. Who do you think has the power to break the curse?’
‘The curse on … Emmeric?’ My eyes narrow. Definitely senile. ‘But that’s just a story?’
Caius Castellion smiles. ‘We are all stories, girl,’ he murmurs. ‘Just as we are all of us bound by this curse of blood.’