Chapter Six
Six
I ATTEMPTED THE LABYRINTH ON my own the next morning.
The sconces were lit this time, illuminating the halls with enough light for me to see the crimson splendour of the rug underfoot and the faded colours in the medieval portraits.
I tried to calculate how long it would have taken Moira to light this many candles and realised it was impossible.
Did the castle light them on its own? I was embarrassed at myself for even thinking it, but I already knew there was an enchantment on the corridors; it was no less absurd that its abilities might extend this far.
I certainly didn’t think Raleigh would do anything as considerate as lighting my path for me.
And if he were to light anything on fire for me, I’d prefer it to be himself.
The candles flickered. I turned the first corner, then swore when I realised I was back at my room. Stupid, infuriating bloody castle.
I tried to remember what Raleigh had said about the enchantment last night.
Had he been implying that the halls shifted because I wanted to hurt him?
I couldn’t see how the castle would know such a thing.
Besides, after everything he’d done to me and my family, wasn’t I perfectly justified in wanting him dead?
The candles went out.
All right. Well, that confirmed my theory at least. I ran my hands over the wall in the darkness, trying to find my door, cursing Raleigh, because of course it wasn’t enough for him to be a demonic creature of legend, he had to live in a spiteful psychic castle too.
The cold stone revealed nothing and after several minutes of searching I had to concede that my door was gone.
I sighed, pressing my forehead to the wall. ‘I don’t want to kill him,’ I said aloud. Nothing happened. ‘Fine. We both know I want him dead, but I’m not going to try again, and I know you can tell that’s not a lie.’
A single candle bloomed to life. It wasn’t enough to see much with, but enough to guide my way.
I approached it, and another appeared further down the hall as the one beside me sputtered out.
So long as I kept my mind carefully free from any thoughts that didn’t involve breakfast, the candles continued to light themselves along my path until I finally found myself at the top of the grand staircase.
I murmured a reluctant thank you to the halls.
I didn’t know if whatever magic governed the castle understood manners, but it felt like the right thing to do.
My dreams of a quiet breakfast vanished the moment I entered the dining hall.
To my dismay, Raleigh was reclined in the same seat as last night, feet draped over the table, a novel propped up in one hand.
There was no place set up in front of him, only another steel goblet shined to look like silver.
It didn’t take much to guess what was inside it.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked before I could second-guess myself.
Raleigh peered up over the pages of his book. ‘Having dinner.’
‘But the sun is out.’
‘Do you go to sleep the second the sun goes down?’ he asked. Then, when I didn’t reply, he added, ‘That’s what I thought. Just keep the curtains drawn until I’ve gone to bed, please.’
Breakfast was another of Moira’s lumpy loaves of bread with more butter and a pot of red jam. I sniffed it suspiciously, wary of anything that slightly resembled blood. It was cloyingly sweet and bore a scent I didn’t recognise.
‘It’s strawberry,’ Raleigh said without looking up, ‘if you were wondering.’
I’d never seen enough strawberries in one place to consider making them into a jam, so I was dubious as I spread a thin layer over my butter. It was delicious: sweet and fruity. I dolloped on a generous portion, then sank into heaven.
I realised Raleigh was watching me. He still had his book propped up in front of him, but his eyes didn’t move until they darted back to his page when I turned to him. He tried to look bored and turned a page slowly.
‘How is it?’ he asked, as though I hadn’t caught him watching me.
‘Would you like some?’
He gave a small smile. ‘I can’t. My … condition doesn’t allow me to partake in regular food.’ He stared longingly at the jam once more. ‘Unfortunately I can still smell it, which makes withholding all the harder. Does it taste as it smells?’
I brought the jam to my nose. ‘It’s a little sweeter.’
‘Ah.’ The white glint of fangs appeared as Raleigh opened his mouth. He closed his eyes, then put his goblet to his lips and drank deeply.
I scooted my chair further down the table. ‘Is that …’ I averted my eyes but inclined my head towards Raleigh’s dinner. ‘Human?’
Raleigh looked at his glass as though it had suddenly appeared in his hand. ‘Pig. I alternate. Animal blood can stave off my hunger, but I’d still starve if that’s all I drank.’
‘Would you die?’ My life would be much easier if I could lock Raleigh in the basement for a few weeks and wash my hands of this whole situation.
‘No. I’d lose my mind to blood lust and drain the first human I see.’ He seemed to suddenly remember I was human and quickly added, ‘But don’t worry yourself. I keep a healthy stockpile in the cellar. I have plenty to sustain me.’
‘A stockpile?’ I glanced down at the clotted red paste smeared over my breakfast. The idea of taking another bite was suddenly sickening. ‘Nothing to worry about at all, then,’ I said viciously.
Raleigh narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t murder my victims, if that’s what you’re implying. I only drain those who are ready to die.’
‘Is that what you tell yourself?’
‘They’re my subjects, Clara. I’d rather they didn’t perish to sustain me. More than enough of them are dying as it is.’
A happy coincidence it must have been for him, then, that everyone started dying upon his arrival. No wonder he forced the famine on us. He wouldn’t have to feel guilty about killing his victims if they had already starved to death.
Raleigh continued on, oblivious to my growing scowl. ‘No real leader would murder his people for such selfish reasons.’ He considered this for a moment, his expression darkening. ‘You should pass that message along to your father.’
I had no intention of defending the prince to my father, but I was saved from having to tell him that by Moira’s sudden emergence from downstairs, a basket of clean sheets tucked under one arm.
The moment she saw us both there she spun around to go back the way she came, but Raleigh called out before she could flee.
‘Moira! I hoped you might do me a favour.’
Moira didn’t hide how she felt about doing him a favour, but Raleigh reacted as he would if her scowl had been a simpering giggle. I wondered if he was always wilfully ignorant to human emotions or if he had been cursed so long he truly could not read them.
‘No,’ Moira said.
‘I haven’t asked anything yet.’
‘I’m busy.’ She readjusted her basket. ‘Do it yourself.’
‘It won’t take but a moment.’
‘And maybe when you hire someone else to cook for your prisoner I’ll have one to spare, but since you’re apparently too impoverished to hire anyone else, I have to do the work of an entire household.’
‘I’m not impoverished.’
‘Hire a cook, then. Clara will thank you, I’m sure.’
I tucked my chin into my chest to avoid the way their attention suddenly turned to me. ‘Your cooking is delicious,’ I lied.
Raleigh, as usual, continued with his train of thought regardless of Moira’s refusal. ‘I hoped you might show Clara where the library is today.’
Moira glared at him. I couldn’t tell whether her reluctance was at having to tow me around or simply having to work at all. ‘Get your feet off the table.’
To my surprise Raleigh obeyed. He swung his feet down, then propped his elbows on the table instead. ‘So you’ll take her, then?’
I could feel Moira’s glare on me this time, but I sipped my tea, trying to pretend I hadn’t noticed.
‘Can she read?’
‘I’m right here and, yes, I can read,’ I said with a scowl. ‘My mother taught me before Raleigh murdered her.’
For several very long seconds no one said a thing.
Raleigh took a long drink from his goblet, which by now I’m sure must have been empty.
Finally he set it down, taking great care to ensure that the cup was angled in precisely the right manner, presumably to give his eyes something to do other than look at me. ‘I didn’t murder her.’
‘How can you claim that?’ I clenched my hands in my lap to try to stop them shaking. ‘Father showed me your letter.’
He’d found it on my mother’s nightstand the day she died.
I didn’t know about it at the time, though the rumours of a threat from the prince had reached me before her pyre was lit.
Father only revealed it to me several years later, when I’d challenged him again on his incessant need to hush me whenever the subject of Raleigh came up.
The letter only contained three words, followed by a looping, single lettered signature.
Rebuild the dam.
–R
The message was clear. There was only one thing Father cherished more than Mother, and the threat was enough for him to doom his town to stop him taking her, too.
Raleigh stared at me for so long, I wondered if he would reply at all. ‘What letter?’
My anger burnt so brightly I forgot I was supposed to be scared of him. ‘How dare you. You don’t remember it?’ I’d had enough. Abandoning my breakfast, I stood up and stormed out of the room.
The sounds of bickering followed me out as I trudged back up the stairs.
I didn’t know where I was going. Maybe I could find a room full of expensive artefacts to destroy.
I probably would have had there been any doors in the corridor when I entered, but there wasn’t a decaying portrait or crumbling sculpture in sight. The walls were eerily blank.
‘Clara, wait.’ Raleigh appeared in front of me so suddenly I cried out in shock. ‘Listen, please. I’m sorry for what happened to your mother. You have my deepest apologies.’