Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
T he guards at the gate barely pay me any mind as I stroll through. They are busy laughing and passing around a flask, acknowledging me only enough to unlatch the lock. The celebrating Edmond warned me about wasn’t just outside in the city. I welcome the distraction, especially since I didn’t disguise myself as much as I usually do.
Brynne was right. The streets are full of people and laughter. Singing and chatter spill onto the streets from tavern windows. Everyone seems so alive . This celebration and this day are important for me, but I didn’t realize they are also important to all of them. The kingdom is still celebrating me, even though they don’t know me.
Or maybe it is just an excuse to get drunk.
I keep my head down, weaving through bodies that crowd the roads and start down the most direct route to the library. I stay alert, scanning the faces for Dane while still trying to keep my face in the shadows of my hood .
I haven’t seen him by the time I reach the library. I climb the stairs quickly, and as I reach the top, my hope falters. It looks completely deserted. I grab the handle and try the door, only to find it locked.
Agnes might have just locked herself in.
I knock using the big metal knocker and wait, but hear no movement inside. Pressing my ear to the crack in the door, I strain to hear Agnes coming to answer.
Nothing.
I try again, knocking harder this time, and wait.
Still nothing. Agnes must not be here. I can’t blame her. From the look of the crowds and streets, I imagine she is out celebrating with her family and friends as well.
Trying to analyze the books is out of the picture for tonight, but I’m not ready to go back to the castle so soon. Not tonight. I don’t want to be anywhere within those walls.
Dane. I need to find Dane.
Deep down, I have multiple motives. I can’t do anything more at the library tonight, and Dane seemed to know much more about Dawnlin than I did. Maybe he knew more than the little he mentioned when he brought it up the other night.
Plus, I miss him.
I rack my brain trying to remember if he told me anything about where he lived or worked, anything that could help me find him, but besides talking about his sister, he hadn’t given up many personal details.
Descending the steps back toward the square, I head back into the crowded roads toward the tavern Dane took me to for dinner. I’d check there first, and hopefully I’d get lucky and find him there or on the way.
When I arrive, the tavern is bursting with people. A group of men in the corner with instruments play lively music, with most of the crowd singing along. Patrons hold drinks in the air as they loudly, and very off key, sing songs in time to the music. Women sit in the laps of men, and couples are not hiding their affection, kissing out in public for everyone to see.
I feel my face heat. The night life and celebrations are a very different scene than when Dane and I ate dinner here. I quickly glance around the room, trying not to be distracted by the displays of affection, but it is difficult. No one in the castle is ever this physical, and it is abnormal to see it so open and informal.
What would it be like if I didn’t have to behave like a princess? If I were just a normal person, celebrating the princess’s birthday in the tavern, kissing someone passionately.
An image flashes before my eyes. Me, in a plain commoner’s dress, smiling, laughing, with my arm draped around the broad shoulders of the man whose lap I am sitting in. I gaze up into his face, Dane’s face as he grins at me. He leans in and kisses me, with no hesitation, despite the room around us full of other patrons. I don’t hesitate either, leaning into the kiss and wrapping my arms around his neck.
The vision disappears as I am shoved from the side by a drunk man almost laid out on the floor.
“Sorry miss,” he slurs, righting himself and stumbling to the bar.
I glance around the room one last time, but Dane is not here. My eye catches on several people who must be visiting nobles, their clothing different from the styles here, not to mention a much finer quality than anything else found in the tavern. They stand out like a sore thumb.
I reach up and adjust my hood again, knowing full well they wouldn’t recognize me even if they saw me, before turning back out the door onto the road.
Knowing the layout of the city doesn’t help at all when I don’t know which way to go. Dane could be anywhere. Homes are sprinkled throughout the city, tucked in-between businesses and old buildings, but the farther away from the castle you go, the more the city roads resemble the makeup of outlying villages .
Trying to find where he lives would be almost impossible. There are too many taverns and establishments to check them all, and if Dane was to be at any, I would assume it would be his favorite. But he isn’t. Besides, if all of them looked inside how this one did, then it is probably best I stay away.
Suddenly I remember.
There was one other place I’d seen Dane in the city. I start down the road in that direction, dodging groups of people as they stumble loudly on the cobblestones. The farther away I walk, the more the crowds thin, and the quieter the night becomes. Many people or groups walking the same direction as me trail off down alleyways or disappear into buildings.
I’d scanned the faces of everyone passing by, but with no luck. This entire night feels like a complete waste of time. Between the ceremony and the failed attempt to find more information about Dawnlin, I need to figure out when I am going to give up for the evening and regroup back at the castle with Brynne.
I keep walking and scanning, but fewer and fewer people are on the roads now. The darkness of the night is thick and the chill in the air makes me wrap my cloak a little tighter around my shoulders.
My mind wanders back to the pages of the story. Edmond believes anyone can figure out how to call the Guardian and gain passage to Dawnlin, especially if they know the story. His words run through my head, mixing with the pictures from the story, and suddenly an idea strikes me.
The fountain.
I think back to the image of the boy crying as he wanders through town, with the image of a fountain in the background.
It felt familiar when I looked at the page, like I’d seen it before. It was so small and lacking detail that I couldn’t be sure it was the same.
But maybe it was.
There is only one way to find out .
Hope swells in my chest at the thought. Could this really be a clue? Was the story riddled with images of clues that I need to put together? I need to get back to the library and look at each of the drawings. Maybe there was some kind of code that gave directions?
That would be a task for tomorrow. In the meantime, I can at least try to find the fountain and see if I notice anything that might point to Dawnlin, or a cipher of some kind.
I don’t remember where it is exactly in the city. None of our maps had any fountains on them, which also seems odd. Why would it not be depicted, especially when there are buildings surrounding it I know are on the maps? I walk faster, excitement fueling me, and look down every alley I pass.
Not a single person is around now, and the low burning torches lining the main roads are not giving off much light. A chill that has nothing to do with the cold mist in the air runs up my spine. I am alone, in the dark, far away from the castle and anyone who would help me.
I reach back and graze the dagger tucked into my waistband, feeling a small twinge of comfort that Brynne reminded me to bring it.
I round a corner and peer down the way, instantly recognizing where I am.
There.
This is the same place I had run into Dane before. I’d all but given up hope that I’d run into him tonight, especially since there is no one walking the roads this far out. My sole focus now is finding the fountain and figuring out if there really is a connection to the story.
I glance over my shoulder, making sure there is no one approaching, and creep into the alley. It is as empty as the first time I saw it, the surrounding buildings lifeless and dark. The cobblestones are broken and uneven, and not the same shape or quality as the rest of the roads in the city. It’s as if this alley isn’t connected to the rest of the city at all, or like it has been here for so long, the structures were built around it.
I glance around the alley as I enter, making sure there isn’t anyone hiding in the shadows. The weight of my dagger in my waistband reminds me I am not vulnerable, alone in this dark alley in the middle of the night. I can protect myself.
As I slowly step closer, I get a clearer view of the structure in front of me. The fountain is old and worn down, very different from the one depicted in the story. There is no water flowing, as you would expect in a fountain. Not even a trickle. It just stands in the middle of the alley, stagnant and lifeless.
The carved white stone takes shape before my eyes. A pedestal rises out of the center and atop it sits what looks like a mountain. Empty holes are carved into the sides, which would most likely cascade into small pools below, creating waterfalls down the pedestal before falling into the large round base.
I lean in to examine it and see the design is far more intricate the closer you get. The small, empty pools are carved with animals and creatures, some that seem to be of other worlds. A beautiful woman has her hand dipped into the pool she is sitting above, which then pours into the base of the fountain. There are others like her, all with different carved designs but completely void of water.
I circle around the fountain, in awe at the beautiful carvings, when I stop short.
This is it. This has to be it.
There is a cup…no, not a cup. A chalice, positioned to catch water that falls from a hole in the mountain. Just above the lip of the chalice, as if it is rising out of the cup itself, is the sun.
Dawn.
Is this a sign? The symbol of dawn rising out of a cup of the elixir?
The fountain has to be connected to the story.
My heart pounds quickly in my ears, blocking out all other sounds. There has to be something to decipher, something that would lead me there. My eyes rapidly scan the carvings on the chalice. Families with babies, animals, flowers .
All things that are signs of life and growth.
Life that this magical elixir would bring back to anyone who drank it.
I’d found it.
I’d found the key to getting to Dawnlin.
Edmond was right. He said I had all the information I needed and had faith that I could figure it out. It was so subtle, the fountain in the back of the drawing in the story, but something about it stuck in my memory, pulling me back here to find it.
It must have known I needed it.
I want to tell Dane. He was looking for it too, to help his sister. Well, I assume he was, since he brought it up to me. I need to figure out how to call the Guardian, and then go find Dane tomorrow. We could go together and have twice the chance of being successful. I’d save my mother, and he, his sister.
I run my hands over the fountain, looking for anything and everything that might lead me to how to call the Guardian. A switch, or a button on the stone, even something that looks like the puzzle boxes Edmond gave me as a child. I search every square inch, but there is nothing obvious. I don’t find any inscriptions or directions, no set of carved images that look like the story. There is nothing more indicating that this is the key to Dawnlin, other than the sun over the chalice.
Siting on the edge of the pool, I lean over to look into the water. The bottom is hidden under the layers of dirt and needles from the Blackwood trees, possibly hiding any inscriptions there. I scan the surface and hesitate. The water is less than inviting, and I cringe before I stick my hands into it and run them along the smooth stone, feeling for any hint, but my fingers find nothing.
All the hope drains from my body, and the helpless feeling of failure creeps back in. There must be something I am missing.
I wipe my hands on my cloak and glance over the water again. The fountain isn’t flowing, and by the state of it, hasn’t for some time.
Edmond mentioned in the story that no cases have been recorded for quite some time. Maybe that is it. Maybe the magic in the fountain has dried up with it.
In the picture, the fountain flowed freely, splashing into the pool that now sits in front of me. It is no longer that magical, beautiful fountain.
My head falls back as I feel the tears well in my eyes.
Despite telling Edmond that having hope was illogical, I did exactly that. I had hope. I hoped that after all of my hard work trying to find a cure for my mother, that this would be my answer. Deep down, I hoped I would find Dawnlin, find the potion, save my mother, and save me.
I fell for it.
I fell for exactly what I judged the other hopeful believers of the story for doing.
And now I would get to watch her go.
The hope made the pain so much worse.
Tears flow down my cheeks, and there is no use trying to stop them anymore. My body is wracked with sobs as I pull my knees up onto the ledge.
There are so many emotions behind these tears, I just let go. Everything from a lifetime of invisibility, and loneliness, made worse by the events of the last few weeks, bubbles to the surface as I sit here alone, this fountain reminding me of the death of my hopes.
I grab my shirt in a fist, trying to combat the tightness in my chest as the memories pop into my mind.
The pain of walking into the empty throne room.
My father saying I wasn’t ready.
His face as he orders me never to leave the castle.
Edmond finally telling me my mother never woke after childbirth.
Fear, anger, hurt, disappointment, expectation.
Loss.
Years and years of emotions pent up behind these tears burst forth and I cannot stop them. My breaths are ragged, and I gasp for air between sobs. I slide off the side of the fountain and kneel next to it, folding my body over the edge and resting my hands on the cold stone, trying to suck in air.
It feels as if my entire world is crashing down around me.
All because I had hope.
More than the sadness, I am angry, and not just at my father or my situation. I am angry with myself. I am the one responsible for having hope, and now I have to deal with it.
I need to pull it together. I have no choice now but to head back to the castle, and I don’t need to startle Brynne by looking like an absolute mess when I get there.
I climb back up on the bench and lean over, trying to glimpse my reflection in the water. I barely recognize myself. My eyes are swollen and red, and the makeup Tila’s ladies had so expertly applied is streaked down my cheeks.
I inhale a shuddering breath as another wave of tears and sobs hit me quickly. They fall hard and fast, dropping into the water below me as I swipe a hand roughly across my nose.
Suddenly, something in the water catches my eye and I stop crying instantly.
I grasp the edges and peer down where my tears had broken the surface. Golden ripples grow from each drop, disturbing the dark surface of the water, and I suck in a gasp.
Tears.
That’s it. How didn’t I figure that out? My mind quickly goes back to the pictures of the story, where I had seen the fountain in the background. The focus of that picture was the little boy in the story, and he was crying .
It was so subtle, something you wouldn’t think was important. I’d assumed he was just upset about his dying father, but was this the artist’s way of telling others how to find Dawnlin?
It has to be.
Completely forgetting all the feelings from moments ago, I scan the water, looking for something more. The gold ripples fade before my eyes, and I wait, frantically looking for something else to happen, a next step that I need to follow in order to call the Guardian.
I lean over closer to the water, eyes searching for something, anything, when suddenly a hand clamps down on my shoulder.
I am not alone.