Chapter 11 #2
“Never stop learning,” Michael Whyte had whispered to both me and Elspeth, the memory a lifetime ago. “Never stop searching for the truth. Your mind is your greatest weapon, my darlings.”
I wonder now if the heaviness that sometimes crept into his voice had something to do with his own thirst for knowledge. Or maybe he battled a guilty conscience after bartering his service to—
I flip forward to the chapter on unicorns and stop, losing my breath entirely. The rider depicted in the illustration is done in black and white but the image is heartbreakingly familiar. It doesn’t matter that the rider is male and the unicorn of indeterminable sex.
It’s my mother all over again.
The familiarity is everywhere, in the proud bearing, the way the rider’s shoulders are thrown back and their armor gleaming in an invisible sun. It’s in the proud yet stern unicorn’s expression.
Yup, I’m gonna cry.
The first prick of emotional distress leaves me breathless, my fingers tangling in my hair and pulling like I’ll somehow be able to take those terrible thoughts out of my head and dispose of them somewhere else.
But they aren’t going anywhere.
This book might have made a difference in my mother’s battle plans the day of the attack.
I know we were lucky enough to be forewarned of Ryson’s arrival but if she’d known of some of these tactics, we could have made a better plan. Even if it meant retreat.
I scan blurry eyes across the page. The information won’t do me any good now. Those days are gone and the battle in question already lost. I’m punishing myself by reading. Hurting myself even more by trying to learn exactly what might have helped my mother and the other warriors.
Although I’m not sure anything would have been sufficient to turn the tide against a dragon the size of the white monstrosity I’d seen.
“Cursed dragons,” I mutter.
As powerful as they are, if their riders are corrupted, then it stands to reason the dragons are as well. At least on some level.
Kieran and his cousin had said something about being traitors and trying to cheat the crown when they’d first ambushed me in the cave. We’d done nothing wrong.
Our village kept out of politics. Illonia made it a point after we lost our father to Ryson and his ridiculous cause.
They just had dragons.
Knowing this information is out there does nothing to ease the anger inside of me. It rises, easily explained and centered on the General and his pale terror of a dragon. On the redheaded king with his crown granting him the power over other people’s lives.
Nothing erases the memory of my last conversation with my mother and my regret.
I should have hugged her closer. I should have done a lot of things differently rather than acting like a spoiled and stubborn brat.
A rattling sigh scrapes its way up my throat and dispels the fluttering of my irregular heartbeat.
I trail the pad of my index finger along the spine and a smile pulls free when I reach the next chapter.
“Someone has been busy. Haven’t they?”
The book’s owner wrote in the margins. Scattered throughout the book, I find, are notes on some of the formations. There are questions regarding several assumptions the original author made, even a few passages marked for later inspection.
Did the owner who lovingly sketched in the margins understand the intricacies of some of these tactics?
Some of the questions are pretty smart.
I shut the book and in the silence, the clutter of footsteps grows louder. It’s too late to slink out of the classroom unannounced.
I’m caught.
“My, my. Some maids simply don’t know their place.” Evie’s voice sounds dangerously close to my ear.
She releases her grip on my hair only to get me to look at her. I clutch the book to my chest, my heart in my throat.
“Well?” she presses.
Caught by the worst person.
Evie is as perfect as a picture, not a hair out of place. Like the other day, she’s got Kieran with her, as well as an entourage of other students. I’m not sure if three counts as an entourage at this point but she’s certainly managed to include backup before seeking me out.
I glare at Kieran until he feels the full force of his betrayal. It’s not like the jerk understands. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s still waddling around behind Evie like she’s got a golden leash wrapped around him.
“Well what?” I ask skeptically. “You haven’t actually asked me a question yet.”
A small tittering round of laughter is hastily tamped from behind Evie and her eyes narrow at the sound.
“Where is your place, maid?” she presses. “It’s certainly not with your nose in a book. This room is for students. Not for servants who waste their time trying to be something they’re not. Didn’t you learn your lesson the other day?”
She pauses for only a moment before her eyes slit in displeasure, the long black lashes obscuring the color.
“My nose wasn’t in the book. It’s pretty hard to read that way.”
“Your place is on your knees, scrubbing. Seems to me like you’d benefit from a reminder.” She grabs for the book, her friends sneering and snickering like good little slaves.
Or she tries to, anyway.
I twist away to keep it from her paws, something reckless unfurling in my chest.
“I’d rather be scrubbing than whatever forms of… diplomacy you’ve clearly mastered,” I throw back.
Her lips purse, thinning out into a line and losing their pretty pink blush. Lines fan out from those robin egg blue eyes and Evie, I realize, must be a nickname for evil.
“Excuse me?”
She’s bristling exactly the way I thought she might with only minimal prompting. I tamp down on my urge to grin. This might be easier than I thought.
She’s wound tightly enough to see everything as an insult but doesn’t actually anticipate anyone insulting her.
I chuckle, and her chest stills. “You heard me.”
“Apparently, I didn’t.” Her voice thins.
“By the Ether, but sleeping your way to mediocrity is rather pathetic. You can’t do any better?”
The words tear out of me like claws. Grief has made me reckless, made me say things that should be kept locked away.
I wait the exact same amount of seconds Evie had to give her the time to put it together. She looks at Kieran and a crazed half laugh claws out of her mouth.
“The middle,” she repeats. “You’re serious?”
The others are biting back on their snickers now. Kieran is the only one who makes a sound, a strangled groan he’s quick to hide.
“You know.” I indicate Kieran with my nose.
I add an eyebrow wiggle so there’s no way for her to miss my meaning. “I can’t imagine he’s going to get you where you want to go. I mean, by all means, if you want to, then do it. I can’t see how you’re getting anywhere.”
Kieran shoots me an unreadable look, and curse me, but my heart beats a little faster. I hate myself for it. There is nothing about him that should cause me a physical reaction unless it’s my hatred.
Being this near to him, my skin prickling with proximity and heat and awareness, I’m on even shakier ground than before.
This is dangerous.
Evie gives no warning before her arm whips out and she slaps her palm to my face, exactly the same place Mrs. Milkin got me. Pain flares bright from my already bruised skin and, confounding the harpy, I cry out.
Everyone hears it.
The corner of the book slams the center of my foot before her fingertips have broken contact with my cheek. I’ve lost this round.
My posture goes rigid, and Evie tenses for a fight. Her gaze reaches the darkest parts of me. If I give in now, if I let the rage move my body—
There will be no coming back from it.