Chapter 16
I dream of moths.
Or maybe it’s less of a dream than a deathbed memory.
Once, my grandmother woke me in the middle of the night, a finger pressed to her lips to keep me quiet.
Without hesitation, I followed her through the empty corridors, our bare feet making no sound on the cold stone.
She led me out of the palace, across the gardens, and out into the forest beyond, all the while saying nothing.
She didn’t need to. I would have followed her to the edge of the earth with nothing more than a wink.
The hem of my nightgown grew heavy with dew as we walked, and twigs scratched at my bare feet along the forest floor. Eventually, she paused. Dappled moonlight illuminated the forest floor where night flowers bloomed and moss sparkled with dew.
“Go,” she whispered. “There’s a clearing ahead.”
I stepped forward, determined to show her I wasn’t afraid. There, in the middle of the forest, was a small clearing speckled with wildflowers. But that wasn’t what made my breath catch in my chest.
It was the moths.
Thousands of them.
They covered every stone, flower, branch, and leaf. Every variety of moth that nature could imagine from garden-variety cabbage whites to elusive, pale green lunas. Their wings fluttered and waved, as silent as the moonlight, as if it was a gathering of graceful, midnight dancers.
“What is this?” I asked as I spun slowly in place, unable to take my eyes away from them. The spots on their wings blinked with each flutter, like the eyes of fae.
“Moths are solitary creatures,” Grandmother said, her voice full of reverence. “But when I was a child, I stumbled upon this gathering. As far as I know, it only happens once per year, on the first full moon of midsummer.”
“But why?” I asked.
Grandmother just shrugged. “Who can say? The moths don’t tell me their secrets. Many don’t even have mouths.”
I turned to her, my eyes wide. She laughed.
“It’s true. They survive off the food they ate as caterpillars. They don’t live long as majestic, winged creatures.” She tilted her head up toward the stars and closed her eyes. “But while they live, they are a wonder.”
We laid there on the wet grass, showered with moonlight and speckled with moths until the sun rose. As the birds sang their morning songs, the moths silently floated away in the wind, taking their many secrets with them.
I awake in my silk-covered bed, moonlight streaming through my window. My hand clutches Grandmother’s moth necklace so tightly, the silver bites into the flesh of my palm.
Slowly, as if through a fog, the Wolf’s escape returns to my mind. I bolt upright, gasping. My hands grasp at my neck, remembering the wound there, feeling the thin scar that’s replaced it. A palace healer must have attended to me.
“Shh!” a voice whispers. I turn to see Hunter scrambling up from a nearby chair, next to a small lantern lit low.
He’s wearing a rumpled white shirt and brown trousers.
It’s the sort of thing he’d wear to the training yard.
A glint of metal behind him draws my eye.
Copper-plated bronze. He’d tucked his King’s Guard armor behind an arrangement of red roses on the floor.
He kneels next to the bed and places a hand on my cheek. “Everything’s alright now, Sienna. You’re safe.”
“Have they captured him?” I ask, panic rising in me again. It makes me woozy and I fall back into the downy pillows.
He doesn’t respond.
The room still smells ludicrously of a thousand roses. The romantic gesture feels like a distant memory now. Yet here we are, surrounded by a veritable garden as proof that it did, in fact, happen.
When the nausea passes, I look sideways at Hunter. His face twists with concern, his lips pursed like he’s holding something back.
“Well?” I ask, impatient after my brush with death. “Did they?”
“Do you wish they had?” His face is unreadable in the low light. “Or are you asking because you hope he got away?”
I make an impatient sound that causes my neck to burn, like there’s still a tear beneath the surface.
The noble-born healers did their best for me, I’m sure.
The external wound healed, but there’s still significant damage under the skin.
Only time will heal me completely. Well, that or my father.
We share the same inherited power, after all.
But considering he’s the one who sliced me, I doubt he’s eager to fix his own handiwork.
Discomfort must show on my face. Hunter grabs a small tin of salve from the nearby table and hands it to me. I take it without comment and smear some of the honey-smelling ointment onto my neck. The skin is tender, and the medicine does nothing for the burn.
“I told you before,” I say when I’ve finished. “I don’t want him to die because of me.”
“Did you know he was a Wolf?” Hunter asks, an accusation laces through his words like thorns through one of the bouquet of roses.
I nod.
“And you would still help him? After he nearly killed you?” Hunter says, incredulous.
“What?” I hold up my hands as if I could stop that thought. “No. He didn’t try to kill me. Father did.”
“That’s not what the other King’s Guards are saying.”
“And whose employ are they under?” I ask, challenging him to believe the lies over me. “If anything, he saved me.”
“Why would he do that?” Hunter shakes his head, still not willing to believe a Wolf on the loose would have spared the heir to the Fox Throne. And, honestly, I don’t blame him. It hardly makes sense to me and I was there.
“I don’t know.” And I don’t.
Tristan could have killed Father and been gone in an instant if it hadn’t been for me. If he hadn’t stopped to care for me, then he’d have fulfilled his mission and been well on his way to the northern border by now. But he didn’t.
“I’ll wait for you,” he’d said. Why?
I rub a hand over the scar on my neck. “I’m not sure I understand any of it. The Wolf said some … confusing things.”
Hunter’s face twists in wariness. “What kinds of things?”
The low light casts shadows across the ridiculous floral arrangements throughout the room. I’m tucked into this soft, warm bed, healed and lovingly cared for … but I still don’t feel safe. I never do in the palace.
I throw the blankets off of me. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” I move to get out of bed, but Hunter places his hands on my shoulders.
“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, Sienna. You nearly died!”
“Which is why I need some answers.”
“Can’t they wait until morning?”
“No.” I fight away a wave of lightheadedness. “They can’t.”
I step off the bed, grateful that someone put me in one of those god-awful frilly nightdresses or else I’d be standing in front of Hunter in the nude.
He blushes anyway. I grab a dressing gown from the closet, throwing it over my sleep clothes to make me appear more presentable.
It’s not at all to my taste, too many bows and pastels for my liking, but I don’t have time to change into something less ridiculous.
I tuck Grandmother’s necklace under the fabric.
“Can we at least talk for a minute?” Hunter asks, looking alarmed by my sudden resolve.
I reach for the door handle, then pause. “You can come with me. You need to hear this, too.”
I throw open my chamber door and two guards stand at attention. Hunter scrambles after me, looking like he hasn’t slept in a decade.
“Take me to him,” I say to the guards.
“He’s in hiding,” one says. “From the Wolf.”
I lower my eyes. “I am the heir to the Fox Throne. And I said, ‘take me to him.’”
They do.
We take the hidden passageways, guided by our own light. The luminescent orb bobs ahead of us, showing the way through the narrow stone corridors. After several turns and downward spiraling staircases, we’re deep in the palace’s underbelly.
The guards lead us to a thick wooden door that opens on squeaky hinges.
We pass through and emerge into a mildew-smelling chamber with at least a dozen more guards standing at the ready.
There are no windows, no other doors. My father is truly in hiding, afraid of the Big Bad Wolf. His fear makes me brave.
Even though it’s the middle of the night, Father isn’t sleeping, either. He’s sitting at a desk, writing furiously. When he hears the door open, he stands abruptly.
“Who let you in here?! I said no visitors until the Wolf is found!” He sounds unhinged in a way I’ve never heard before. It’s both alarming and deeply satisfying to witness.
“I forced them to bring me.” I say, standing tall. I’m not afraid of the Wolf, after all. “I see you’re relieved to discover that I survived my injuries.”
He doesn’t even have the decency to look flustered. “My congratulations.”
This room feels like a prison. Maybe it is.
No one would ever find a person locked away down here.
The walls glisten with dripping condensation and there’s a collection of emerald green moss and fungi growing in the corner.
The air down here is thick with the smell of earth, as if fresh air never reaches these depths.
I take several leisurely steps toward Father’s desk. “Rumor has it, the Wolf sliced my throat and spilled royal blood—nearly killing your heir.” I stare at him, allowing my eyes to do the rest of the talking.
We both know the truth.
Father doesn’t react. “He’s a menace and a villain.”
“Hm.” I purse my lips. I’ll keep his secret for now. Not that anyone would believe the truth from me, except for maybe Hunter. Behind me, he shifts, unsure what to do. I gesture toward him. “I brought my betrothed.”
“I can see that.” Father’s eyes narrow on the guards who brought us. They’ll be punished, but I can’t worry about that now.
“I have questions for you.”
“As always.” His voice is unamused.
I step toward him. “Is it true that we’re the aggressors in this never-ending war, not Annwyn?”
Father rolls his eyes. “You’ve always been a petulant child.”
“I’m not a child anymore. And I won’t follow you blindly.”