Chapter 28
The next day crawled by uneventfully. I couldn’t sit still. I spent aimless hours pacing the bedchamber, flinching at every sound that came through the barrier of the shut door.
It hardly mattered that the bedchamber was an adequate size, it was suffocating. I felt like a caged animal, and my body responded with waves of panic. With every fresh surge, my breaths became shallow, my sweat grew cold, and my heart sprinted as if trying to get away.
It didn’t help that my clamorous mind refused to settle. It kept replaying the events of the past twenty-four hours, agonizing over every decision, every possible misstep I had made, and torturing myself with the unanswerable question, how did I get here?
Once I was certain I had begun to wear a path in the rug, I forced myself to sit down at the breakfast table and rummage through the pile of books I’d retrieved from the library the day before.
Amongst them was a collection of fairy tales and folklore from across Anerdor. I opened it and scanned through the pages. It was filled with illustrations, although the palette was conservative in its use of colors, and the images were somewhat rudimentary. Still, I forced myself to read.
Many of the stories were about mortals turning to Velcarin or witches to help solve their problems, which often revolved around love. Almost all of these tales ended in tragedy; a clear warning to mortals against involving themselves with magical beings. Stay away or pay the ultimate price.
While magic was seemingly reviled by their kind, for magical beings it was a divine gift, a blessing from the goddesses to be embraced.
In Vantillios, it was our ally, facilitating our daily existence.
Even the home I lived in was touched by magic.
Crafted entirely from aquamarine, Vellamere Palace was commissioned by Vell herself when the goddesses still roamed Orradon.
Remnants of the goddess’s magic were as much of a fixture as the furniture.
I knew the mortals’ perception of magic and magical beings wasn’t exactly favorable, and it had never bothered me before.
But, now that I’d met a handful of mortals, I couldn’t help but think about what they would do if they ever learned what I was.
Would they fear me? Hate me? Think of me as just another wicked Velcarin to avoid?
The thought of Tarben hating me made my chest feel heavy. I didn’t know why I cared. He’d probably come to hate me after I broke his heart anyway. It mattered little what he thought of me after the full moon.
I would forget all about him once I was back in Vantillios. I needed to keep reminding myself of that.
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.
“Oh Alara! Isn’t it awful?” announced Amalie as she flew into my bedchamber, followed by her lady’s maid.
I stood and gave her a hesitant hug. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice my discomfort.
“I’m so sorry about Prince Hugo. Is he awake?” I was anxious for an update. I needed to know if he was going to continue his vendetta against me. I asked the guards, but they wouldn’t tell me anything.
“Not yet.” Her eyes welled up. “I can’t believe someone would do something so ghastly to him. And if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have…” Her sentence trailed off into sobs. Once more, she flung her arms around me.
I tried to keep the horror from my face. I was terrible at this sort of thing. How could I possibly comfort this child? My mind seemed to empty of anything even remotely helpful to say, so, instead, I stroked her silky curls and hummed a sympathetic noise.
Eventually, she pulled away and accepted the handkerchief her lady’s maid held out for her. “You truly are a hero, Alara,” she sniffed. “Like from a story.”
In contrived humility, I began to protest, but she continued.
“And when I found out that Captain Hansen was keeping you here like a… like a common criminal,” she spat the words out, “I simply couldn’t believe it.
I went straight to my father and told him.
He was furious. He ordered the captain to release you immediately. ”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “The guards are gone?” I asked, my head turning towards the shut door.
“The guards have been told to stand down and Captain Hansen has been ordered to cease this ridiculous interrogation of you. We all know you would never hurt anyone. You saved Hugo, you saved me!”
Relief surged through my body, unknotting the tightly-wound tension. This was quickly followed by a trickle of something less familiar to me: guilt. Pull yourself together, you ninny!
Why should I feel guilty? I had saved Hugo and Amalie. My motives for doing so were not important, I had earned my praise. “Thank you, Princess.” I paused, then gingerly vocalized the question that had been eating away at me. “How is he doing?”
Once again, tears formed in her eyes, and she shook her head. “He’s alive but… he’s not doing terribly well. He has yet to wake up. The healers say he’s in a coma.”
“I’m sorry.” I had conflicting feelings about Hugo being in a coma.
On one hand, it meant I was safe from his accusations.
On the other, he might be the key to unlocking the mystery.
If he could identify his attacker, the murderer would be brought to justice and I could return to Vantillios with peace of mind.
“Father is distraught but, of course, he would never admit it. He’s ordered an increase in patrols around the castle and insists that the culprit will be found any day now. As if it’s so simple.” She rolled her eyes in an attempt at bravery. “I wish Tarben was here. He would know what to do.”
“He’s not coming back?” I failed to hide my disappointment.
“No. We’ve written to him with the news, but with everything going on at the border, it could be days before he receives the message,” she said in an uncharacteristically flat voice.
A stab of pity unexpectedly struck me. She looked so sad and lost. It was exactly that pity that prompted my next words. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, name it.”
She nodded and hesitated. “Would you… would you come with me to see Hugo?”
I had not been expecting that.
The apprehension must have shown on my face because Amalie hastily continued.
“It’s just that you managed to save me from the brink of death, and it makes me think that maybe you could save Hugo too.
I know that you’re not a witch or anything, but you seem to bring good luck to my family, so maybe you could… ”
“You think I might be able to wake your brother?” I finished for her in disbelief.
She nodded again. “I know it’s silly. You don’t have to do anything. Just you being there would help.”
Divine goddess. How could I even respond to this? There was no way my presence would help stir Hugo to consciousness. Not unless he woke up just so he could throttle me with his bare hands.
“I could,” I said reluctantly. “But you know I don’t have any magical powers?
I only happened to be at the right place at the right time when I saved him.
And you.” At the look of disappointment on her face, I hurried to add, “But yes, of course I’ll come with you.
” I didn’t love the idea of visiting Hugo’s sickbed, but if all I needed to do was sit there…
She looked slightly less distraught. Hopeful even. Yes, it would be a good deed. And it didn’t hurt that it would paint me in a flattering light. “When would you like to go see him?”
“How about right now?”
I had not been expecting that. I shot the lady’s maid a helpless glance. She offered me nothing in return but a wordless shrug. Flames of Erasure consume me.
I could not come up with a reasonable excuse, so I found myself following them to the royal wing of the castle, all the while wondering how I managed to escape a dire situation only to end up in this one.
***
Visiting Hugo went much as I had expected. Dismally.
We sat at the side of his enormous bed for nearly an hour with no success. Amalie held his hand, occasionally murmuring affirmations, urging him to wake up, but mostly, we sat in silence.
After a long period during which the only sounds to be heard were the gentle rumbling of the fire and Hugo’s soft breathing, Amalie eventually conceded that my presence would not wake him from his deep unconsciousness.
“You should go,” she sighed. The sound carried the weariness of a much older, more jaded person.
“And you? What will you do?” I surveyed her fatigued, tear-stained face and her slouched, defeated posture. I was itching to get out of there but something didn’t feel right about leaving her alone in her current state.
“I’ll stay a while longer.”
“You should rest, eat something,” I said in a stern voice that reminded me of Mae.
“I know.” Another sigh. “I’ve got dinner with Father this evening, but I’d like to remain here until then. But you should go.”
I hesitated. Why? I had been bored to tears a minute before. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m certain. I appreciate you accompanying me.”
“Of course.” Joints aching from being confined to the wooden x-frame chair for so long, I stood. Something made me say, “He’d be so proud of how strong you’re being.”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off her brother.
Uneasy with how heavy this experience had made me feel, I stepped out of the bedchamber and into the adjoining study. As I was leaving Hugo’s rooms, my eyes fell on an oak cabinet with a lock on it. It was what sat on top of the cabinet, however, that brought me to a halt.
Next to a golden key displayed in a glass case sat a hand-painted porcelain vase.
It depicted an unclothed celestial female sitting on a throne of golden flames.
Resting on her head of cascading scarlet hair was a magnificent crown of flames.
I had encountered enough depictions of her likeness that I immediately recognized it as a representation of Tuli, the deity of fire.
But the goddess was not what intrigued me.
Perched on her right shoulder was a majestic crimson bird with gold-tipped wings and tail feathers.
Flames clung to the bird’s body and set it aglow like golden shadows.
It was a bird I would recognize anywhere.
A bird I had only ever seen in one other place before—in a sketch that had belonged to my mother.
A sketch with one single word scribbled in its lower-right corner—Veradis.
I had asked my grandmother many times what it meant, but she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer.
What was this bird? And why was it depicted with Tuli? Birds were typically associated with Seru, the goddess of air, the skies, wisdom, truth, peace and prophecy.
“What are you doing?” The sound of a deep, low voice yanked me out of my futile attempts to make sense of the puzzle before me.
Spinning around, I was faced with a member of the Royal Guard. I recognized him from the ball and from the day I ran into Hugo in the entrance hall.
“Just admiring the vase. I’ll go.” Flustered, as if I’d been caught doing something wrong, I scrambled for the door.
“Did you do it?” he called out to me.
I turned to face him. Up close he was disarmingly handsome, with high cheekbones and full, defined lips. The hazel of his eyes was arresting against his smooth, brown skin. They fixed onto mine, narrowed in distrust.
“Do what?” I asked, crossing my arms.
He too, crossed his arms. “Did you harm Prince Hugo?”
I scoffed. I couldn’t believe the nerve of this stranger. “Yes. I attacked him then pretended to rescue him,” I said sarcastically. “That’s what all you guards believe, isn’t it?”
He took a step closer and scanned my face as if searching for a lie concealed within my features. “Did you truly save his life?”
I raised my chin. “Yes,” I said with defiance, despite feeling like I might melt under the intensity of his green, gold and brown stare. His expression softened, seemingly satisfied.
“Then I owe you a debt.” He nodded.
Stunned by the unexpected turn in conversation, my brows knitted together. “Thank you, uh…”
“Filip.”
“Thank you, Filip, but you really don’t. Consider it an act of common decency.” I didn’t have the mental capacity to unpack this strange interaction. It had been a long day and I was ravenous.
Without waiting for his response, I spun on my heels and hurried away.