Chapter Thirty
CHAPTER THIRTY
Scarlett
It was late when I returned to my mother’s tower, the candles having burned low. There was enough light to illuminate the strange jars and substances that crowded the benches, and I could only imagine how frightening it must have been to wake in such a place.
The real Sabine was slumped in the far corner, brunette hair spilling over her face in untamed waves. Moonlight poured in from the oval windows, illuminating her youthful profile. Even though we had shared the same features, I doubted I’d ever looked that young.
I approached slowly, not wanting to scare her further. But she didn’t stir.
Only when I passed the benches in the centre of the room did I start to feel concerned.
The drug should have worn off hours ago. Sabine might have felt drowsy afterwards, but it seemed unlikely that she would sleep this deeply – not here, tied up in a tower and surrounded by vials of strange liquids and jars filled with lumps of flesh.
And glass.
‘No—’ The word left my lips as a gasp.
I crouched at her side, my hands shaking as I reached for her – only to touch cold skin. Sabine slumped forward, weak as a rag doll.
‘What have you done,’ I breathed, reaching for the glass beaker.
Sabine had smashed it – using the shards to try and free her bound hands. They were still tied behind her, and when I shifted to look, my stomach heaved at the sight of so much blood.
The shard had slipped. It had slipped, and—
I moved quickly away, unable to bring myself to feel for a pulse. The blood was dark – dried. I knew what that meant.
How could I have been so careless, so stupid to leave the beaker within reach?
But I knew why. I had been preoccupied, eager to get to the Trial and complete the first part of Zandri’s plan.
To become a contender .
Severin had been right to look at me the way he had in the greenhouse, to question my motives—
Severin.
‘Oh no, no, no . . .’ I stood, pacing from the window to the bench and back again.
I had promised Severin that no harm would come to Sabine. I had promised I would return her to him unharmed, with no memory of being detained. And now . . .
The door creaked open.
At the sight of my mother, I felt relieved. If anyone could fix this, it was her.
But Zandri was frowning with disappointment.
‘What a pity,’ she said, stepping into the room. ‘I thought you would attempt to resurrect the girl. Perhaps it was too much to hope your abilities would work on a person. Or perhaps . . .’ She looked at me appraisingly, and I had the unsettling feeling that I knew exactly what my mother was thinking.
Perhaps that never even occurred to you.
Rather than rage at Zandri, I knelt at Sabine’s side. If there was a chance of doing as my mother suggested, I had to at least try .
Clutching one of the discarded glass shards, I allowed it to bite into my palm. Just enough to cause a droplet of blood to well.
It had only taken a droplet to revive the raven, but when the blood hit Sabine’s face, I felt nothing. My pulse didn’t stutter, I didn’t feel faint, and there was no awareness of anything other than my own beating heart.
A long-suffering sigh came from behind me.
‘If you spent more time experimenting with your power,’ Zandri remarked, ‘your blood would be far stronger. Then again, the girl’s been dead for hours. Even the Sorceress couldn’t resurrect a person who was too far gone.’
‘This is on you,’ I said coldly, standing and facing my mother. ‘Not me. You barely gave me an hour to kidnap Sabine before the first Trial. That’s not enough time – not to do it properly. Not to do it safely .’ To my embarrassment, my voice broke on the last word.
‘If you want to rule, Scarlett, you’ll have to learn to think on your feet.’
I shook my head. My hair fell across my face, tinting my vision red. ‘There won’t be any chance of me ruling now.’
‘Don’t be melodramatic.’ Zandri crouched to gather up the broken shards of the beaker. ‘The girl’s death is unfortunate, but it’s easily concealed.’
‘Not from Severin.’
‘Severin.’ A raspy chuckle. ‘ Severin does what I tell him. Besides, he can’t See the fates of his fellow Artisans. When it comes to her—’ Zandri jerked her head towards Sabine’s lifeless form—‘he’s as blind as the rest of us.’
‘He’s no fool,’ I snapped. ‘When Sabine doesn’t return, he’ll know something happened to her. And he’ll blame you.’
‘Perhaps.’ Zandri smile was as thin as a knife’s gash. ‘Perhaps he’ll blame us both.’
I went very still. The way she said it . . . it was as though she knew about my relationship with Severin. But how could she? We had been so careful, so discreet—
‘Oh, don’t look so stricken.’ Zandri placed a cool hand on my shoulder. ‘Mistakes happen. In fact, this might prove to be a useful lesson.’
I knew that I should be repulsed by Zandri’s nonchalance. That I should flinch away from her touch.
But it felt nice to be comforted. Even by a monster.
‘Now,’ Zandri said abruptly, ‘help me with her. We need to move the body.’
*
I knelt on the cobblestones beside Sabine’s mangled body. The fall had not been kind to her – we had rolled her out of the fifth-storey window – and after wearing her face for so long, the damage felt intensely personal to me. As if I was staring at my own ravaged features.
Sabine’s unruly curls fluttered in the breeze. I brushed them back, thinking that there was something unnervingly alive about the movement. And yet, her chest remained still, half her pretty face caved in. Her skin, once vibrant and sun-kissed, was corpse-white.
A perfect match to mine.
I pressed my palm against hers, noticing our hands were almost the same size. If it wasn’t for the blood coursing through my veins, it would have been impossible to tell the difference.
I didn’t need to touch Sabine for the illusion to take effect, but I didn’t shift my hand from hers, as though holding her hand could make up for what I was about to do. It still felt cruel as I willed her appearance to change, turning Sabine into a nameless servant – all so I could continue impersonating her in the Trials.
A scream shattered the stillness.
I twisted to see a crowd of ladies further down the path. A few were frozen in place, hands comically placed over their mouths. The braver ladies started forward, only to stop when they recognised me.
In court, hierarchy meant everything. None of these ladies liked me, and they certainly didn’t respect me, but they wouldn’t risk overstepping their bounds so publicly.
I was preparing to address my audience when someone pushed through the throng. It was Aric, his expressive ochre eyes darting from me to Sabine’s disguised body and back again. A flurry of emotions crossed his face, and I knew that he mourned the death of this girl, regardless of her station in life. But his surprise and sadness were quickly contained, replaced by stoic professionalism.
‘Your Highness,’ he said, offering me his hand.
I allowed him to pull me to my feet, swaying a little. Aric’s arm wound around my waist, steadying and protective. Exactly as I’d hoped.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, blinking up at him. ‘I think it’s the shock of finding her like—’ I broke off.
‘It’s completely understandable, Your Highness. Perhaps I should escort you back to your chambers.’
The concern in Aric’s voice matched his expression. He regarded me with unexpected warmth – and a furrowed brow as he took in the blood and dirt caking my skirts. I probably looked a mess, but for once, that worked in my favour.
‘I don’t want to leave her,’ I murmured, so low that he had to lean in. ‘She was one of my mother’s servants. Someone should ask Zandri if she had a family that can be contacted.’
Aric’s jaw tightened as he looked back at Sabine. ‘Stay here for a moment – I’ll send for the court Warriors and pass that on. Then I’ll take you out of here.’
The moment he left, the court ladies converged on me. I could have ordered them away, but I knew what Zandri expected of me, and I intended to play my part convincingly.
So I told them what they wanted to hear, and I even allowed a trace of vulnerability to show as I explained how the girl had jumped from the ledge. No doubt the ladies believed they had glimpsed my soft underbelly, and plotted to use my weakness to their advantage. But I didn’t mind. They would see every facet of me soon enough.
And when they did, they would never underestimate me again.
Still, it was a relief when Aric returned and steered me away from the grisly scene.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his eyes flicking down to my bloodied hem.
‘Perfectly.’ I forced a smile, but Sabine’s death was too fresh for it to appear convincing.
Aric was diplomatic enough to let the lie slide.
We followed the twisting halls of the palace towards the main staircase, walking in companionable silence. I hadn’t expected to take comfort in the presence of another, but there was some relief in not having to weather my guilt alone.
‘I lost someone dear to me,’ he said at last. ‘My brother. Kain.’
In that instant, it all clicked into place. People weren’t particularly complicated – the key was understanding enough about them to put the puzzle pieces together.
Aric loved his brother; that much was obvious. I could see that love – and grief – written in the pronounced lines of his face, the sudden heaviness of his steps. No wonder he had attacked Roran so passionately in the arena. Oh, he had done it for Mira as well – I had no doubt he had been willing to die for her – but he had another, more intriguing reason to wish the prince dead.
I could understand vengeance. I could respect it.
More than that, I could use it.
Before we reached the bronze doors of my chambers, I seized my chance. ‘I knew your brother.’
Aric stopped abruptly, his arm falling from mine. ‘You knew Kain?’
The shock in his voice, the sudden vulnerability – it was well worth the half-truth.
I had known of Kain, mostly because the other court ladies had considered him attractive. But I had only paid attention to him when I overheard Roran and my father discussing Kain’s links to the resistance. His name had stuck in my mind ever since, because of how he had died, and the person responsible for that death.
I always knew Roran’s brutality would be his undoing.
‘I was . . . I became quite fond of him.’ I hesitated, like there was a larger truth I was unwilling to share or discuss. ‘I recognised you the moment you stepped foot in the castle. You’re his spitting image.’
Aric’s shoulders went rigid – no doubt that resemblance was a source of pain for him and his family. He relaxed with what seemed like an effort, and when he met my eyes again, there was a new openness there.
Sometimes, softness could be as effective as force.
We lingered in the hallway to my chambers, neither of us willing to approach the Warriors at the far end. I had the sense that Aric was waiting for me to speak, his entire being hanging on my next words.
Haltingly, I said, ‘It would be nice to discuss Kain sometime.’
Aric smiled. Not a polite, careful smile, but the real thing – a crooked smile that lit up his golden-brown eyes and set them sparkling. ‘I’d like that.’
I smiled back at him, aware that without Sabine’s death, this moment would never have happened.
Zandri had been right. Tonight had proved to be a useful lesson.
One I wouldn’t forget.