19. Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
LYRIELLE
A heaviness weighed me down, and my whole body was uncomfortable. I heard the sound of footsteps close at hand, and something or someone was holding me. I moaned, trying to open my eyes and ask what was happening.
“Shh, go back to sleep,” someone said, and since that was exactly what I wanted to do, I allowed that encouragement to relax me enough to fall back into oblivion.
When I roused next, I was rocking back and forth, and the lapping of water reached my ears.
It was soothing, reminding me of the day Tavric had taken me to the island.
But…was I on the water now? I pulled my heavy eyes open for just a moment but shut them quickly when the light was too bright, forcing myself to listen and think.
The sound was definitely water. And the snapping of fabric must have been a sail. Had Tavric taken me on a boat? No, Tavric was with the princess now. Or, no, not anymore. I’d helped him and he’d kissed me. Then I’d healed his father, and then…
What happened after I’d healed his father? Had I healed his father? I’d tried. I’d thrown all my strength into healing him, but had it been enough?
Why couldn’t I remember?
Slick fear coated my skin and the inside of my mouth, and I forced my eyes open again. I was staring at the bottom of the boat, so I turned my head and was met with a wide expanse of blue sky, interrupted by the white sail, swollen with wind as it pulled the boat along.
It took incredible effort, but I managed to push myself up on my elbow, giving myself a view of the man who sat at the other end of the boat, holding the steering oar.
“Harlan…what’s happening? What are you doing?” I asked, frustrated when the effort of holding myself up was too much and I had to lie down again.
“We’re just taking a sail, Your Highness.”
He was turned away from me, so I couldn’t see his face, but his tone sounded like he was…laughing?
The wind was strong, and it felt as though we were going much faster than Tavric and I had gone that day we went to the island, which was terrifying when I had no idea where we were going or why. Harlan’s lack of answers or concern compounded my fear.
“Why am I so weak?” I asked, terrified by how similar I felt to the times Aunt Ethel had given me calming potions. “Did you…did you give me a sleeping draught or…”
“It wasn’t my doing. I just took advantage of the situation.”
“What situation?”
“You passed out when you tried to heal the king.”
I supposed that made sense. Healing always took a toll. I just hadn’t been prepared for how large this toll would be. I looked up at the cloudless sky extending in every direction.
Endless, fathomless, terrifying.
“Don’t worry, Princess,” he said. “You’ll be right as rain soon enough, I’m sure.”
“I already told you, I’m not royalty,” I reminded him, frustrated by my continued confusion over this whole situation.
His eyes cut over to me and then back to the horizon. “Your mother gifted you the royal crest of Branfrie. No doubt it was passed down from mother to daughter until it got to you.”
“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t make me royalty. You know there hasn’t been royalty in Branfrie for generations.”
His eyes settled on me this time and he tilted his head. “Either way, you being a descendent of the old royals makes you special.”
“I was an orphan and a captive in Branfrie. Nothing about me is special,” I said as anger and fear choked my voice. “Why am I here, Harlan?”
“Do you realize that if the High Court had discovered that an actual descendent of the royal family also had powers as coveted as yours, they would have either killed or enslaved you?”
He asked the question casually, as if it weren’t rewriting my entire childhood. Was that what Aunt Ethel had feared? If I truly was a descendent of the old royals who had ruled our land for hundreds of years… I supposed my magic could have made me a threat, at least in the eyes of the High Court.
But why was he pointing it out now? I was sure I didn’t want to know. “I was essentially enslaved anyway,” I told him.
“That’s probably best. You’ll be used to it.”
My heart pounded in my throat. “Used to what?”
He looked over at me, a grin pulling his face into a cruel mask. “The High Court pays a substantial reward for any magic wielder delivered to them.”
Fear washed over me as his words and his smug expression tilted my world.
“And when I give you to them,” he continued, “they’ll give me more money than I could spend in a decade.”
Tears streamed from my eyes while my mouth hung open, gasping for tiny bits of breath that my lungs didn’t want to permit. He was taking me back to Branfrie.
“Please don’t.”
He just smiled and looked off at the horizon.
I breathed carefully, swallowing down my terror. “You’re Tavric’s friend.” Surely that meant something. “You’re a good person.” Did he feel no remorse?
“You don’t know anything about me. And friends come and go, my dear. Earning the confidence of a prince served me well.”
“How did you do it?”
“I worked on plenty of merchant ships in Branfrie, so when I came here, I already knew how to sail. The prince loves being on the ocean.” He shrugged as though that explained it.
“And you’d betray him in such a way?”
I could only see a slice of his profile, but it was clear there was no sympathy or remorse in his expression. “Yes.” When he didn’t elaborate, the heavy silence saturated the air once more.
The wind was making me cold, but there was nothing with which to cover myself, so I just lay there, helpless and trembling.
Healing had never made me so weak. I’d been so focused on letting my magic work through the king’s entire body that I hadn’t noticed how depleted I was until Tavric pulled me away.
But then I’d been hit with a weakness and exhaustion like I’d never felt before.
Maybe the king had been sicker than anyone I’d healed before.
Maybe my magic wasn’t as strong now that my hair was cut.
Maybe, I thought as I stared up at the man who planned to deliver me to those who would enslave me, it didn’t matter.
TAVRIC
Lyri was gone.
My father was sitting up in his bed, awake and alert but very hungry. My mother hadn’t stopped sobbing. My brothers had shown up, asking questions and demanding answers, but I’d pushed them off, knowing I had to care for Lyri.
My sweet Lyri who had just saved my father’s life.
Lyri, who was terrified that her gift would be discovered and used.
I had to protect her. I had to be certain that she recovered from whatever had made her collapse.
Surely it was just exhaustion. Healing a person had to be tiring, right? That just made sense.
But when I’d turned to search for her, she was nowhere to be found. My brow furrowed, and I pulled away from my family’s grasping hands and loud questions, looking around the room, waiting for Harlan to appear or for Lyri’s bright hair to catch my eye.
“Where is she?” I asked the room at large.
“Who, Your Highness?” a guard inquired.
“Miss Lyrielle. She was here.” I pointed at the ground. “She was ill. Harlan was watching over her. Where is she?” My voice rose as disquiet permeated my chest and weighed on my lungs.
“He carried her out, Highness. I assume he went to find a place to lay her down.”
I was out the door in a trice. The guard’s words made sense; I wanted Lyri to be comfortable. But…I’d told Harlan to stay put, hadn’t I? Maybe not. He’d said he’d watch over her. Maybe with all the chaos surrounding my father, he’d deemed it best to take her somewhere quiet.
My feet pounded against the stone floor as I hurried down the corridor, dipping in and out of shadow and sunlight. I asked everyone I passed if they’d seen Lyri or Harlan. A few had and pointed me in the direction of her old room. Maybe he’d gone there?
My father was going to live, I was sure of it, yet I couldn’t feel the exultation of that knowledge because Lyri’s absence had caused a deep-seated worry to burrow into my gut.
I burst through the door of the guest room Lyri used to occupy, hope rising, anxious to see her lying peacefully on the bed.
The room was empty. Why was the room empty? What possible reason could Harlan have had to take her anywhere else?
This time I ran down the corridor. I thought maybe I’d find her in whatever chamber she now occupied in the servants’ wing, but as I continued to make inquiries, it was clear that Harlan and Lyri were no longer in the castle.
He was gone, and he’d taken Lyri with him.
Why?
There could be no good reason, no benevolent answer to that question. The cutting and blatant truth was that something was very wrong. He must have discovered her secret, but why steal her away?
“He went that way, Highness,” the guard at the gate said, pointing to the path that led down to the ocean. “Thought it was strange, but he said all the castle doctors were needed for the king, so he was taking her to the village.”
I ran again. Legs pumping, chest heaving, I scrambled down the rocky pathway to the little beach until I skidded to a stop on the dock where my skiff was meant to be. It was gone.
Harlan had taken my boat. Why, why, why, why, why?
It didn’t matter why. I retraced my steps and ran hard until I reached the main port.
I shouted commands and demands at a few dock workers until I was situated in another skiff, shoving off from shore.
A larger boat might have been faster, but it took longer to prep.
I didn’t have time to gather a crew, and I didn’t trust anyone else with Lyri’s secret.
I had no idea where Harlan would have taken her, but I knew that Lyri’s deepest fear was that she’d be taken back to Branfrie, so I did the only thing I could think to do. I pointed my boat in the direction of the spot where I’d first pulled my little siren from the ocean.
I didn’t know the exact place where I’d found her, but if I could get to the general area quickly enough, maybe I could catch up to Harlan.
And then I could kill him.