Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
ARA
The view of the town from the roof has a dreamlike quality. The mist swirls around us, fading everything in the distance to a white haze. The slate shingles beneath me are damp with the tiny drops of the mist and catch the light like precious jewels.
But as pretty as it looks, it also makes maneuvering them treacherous. A concept that seems to fit everything around here, beauty and death hand in hand.
Solaris is next to me, and I’m more thankful than ever for his presence. I dangle my legs and watch the people moving about in the courtyard below.
“Without you, I would go insane,” I tell Solaris, and it’s true. All this scheming is doing my head in. Everyone has ulterior motives and plans. How am I supposed to trust anyone?
“If you considered yourself normal before today, maybe we should talk…” Solaris says, and surprises a choked laugh out of me. I scoot closer and lean into him, and he rubs his head affectionately against my hair.
“Do you think we could simply hide up here or leave and live in the woods somewhere?” I ask.
“Running away won’t solve your problems.”
“You sure? I’m ready to give it a try.”
Solaris snorts. “No, you’re not. You’re too stubborn to give up, and your conscience would steal the rest of your sanity.”
“Hey, I could become this crazy bird lady everyone just speaks about in whispers.”
“Whispers and you don’t go together.” He chuckles.
“So what is your suggestion, if you don’t like mine?”
“Hear them out, collect information, don’t commit to anything if you can help it, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Alright.” I get to my feet with a sigh. “I’ll do it your way, oh wise one.”
“We can keep that name. I like it.” Solaris fluffs his feathers, and I run my hand over his beak.
“Of course you do.” I rest my brow on my hands. “But if everything goes sideways, we’ll go with my plan,” I tell him. But he is right. Running away is not my style.
Back in the keep, I find Lyla in the kitchen, and before she even says a word, footsteps come down the hall.
“Are you keeping tabs on me again?” She playfully scolds Tynan, who steps through the door.
“What can I say? I like to check in from time to time.” He grins at her.
“From time to time … right.” She snorts, then turns to me. “That was a lot, huh?”
“Yeah.” I give her a weary smile.
“I can only imagine what you went through to keep your secret growing up, but you are always welcome here, and we won’t pressure you into anything … isn’t that right, Tynan?”
He holds her stare for a moment before he agrees. “Of course not.”
“Let us show you around and tell you about all the ways you could help us, if you decide to do so. But there are a lot of lives depending on us not being found, so we have to swear you to secrecy.” She looks at me apologetically.
I nod. It’s not like I didn’t expect something like that.
Tynan holds out his hand, and I clasp it.
“Just a reminder, breaking a promise is deadly. You are aware of that, right?”
I nod.
“And you also realize that once the promise is made, causing my death will also end your life? And vice versa?”
I nod again.
“Okay, then. You swear to keep any information concerning us or our location a secret. You won’t be able to speak or convey it in any other form to a person who doesn’t already know. Whenever you try to formulate the words with the intention to report us, you won’t be able to. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
A promise sears into my skin, keeping the one to Lorcan company, its twin blooming on Tynan’s skin, where it’s nearly hidden between all the lines already there.
Tynan and Lyla accompany me into the city, where people greet me, a stranger, with open arms. Their intention is clear, but it’s still working. When we get back to the keep, the people living in the mists, the titans, aren’t faceless strangers anymore.
“Why titans?” I ask, and Tynan laughs.
“It was Tynan’s originally, but since it sounds close enough, and titans were something people had heard before …
it evolved.” He shrugs. “And we never tried to correct them. After all, people turning us into strong, mystical beings is in our favor.” I look at the armed men and women guarding the fortress.
With the tendrils of mist softening the edges and smudging the details, they do seem like something belonging in myths.
“What do you want from me?” I finally ask, watching the man and woman in front of me closely.
“Supply us with information,” Tynan says. “Help us get access to records of families with cursed ones, and once you are on the throne—”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Lyla interrupts.
“Why do you attack the borders?” It still doesn’t add up for me. The people I met today and the atmosphere here are friendly, peaceful even. Yes, the walls and every person old enough to carry weapons are heavily armed, but they don’t seem hostile.
“The mist protects us,” Tynan says. “But at the same time, it limits the sunlight. Many crops have problems with that.”
“I thought you control it?”
“It’s a precarious balance.” Tynan shrugs. “Tipping to one side means being discovered, while tipping to the other means going hungry. We seldom have enough provisions to last the winter, and whenever our numbers grow too fast, they dwindle even faster.”
That’s the reason for the raids. They’re fighting to stay alive.
“Are there more places like this?”
“Yes, there are three cities in the mists, Rún being the biggest, since we are close to the river and your family always provides us with offerings.”
“But…” I gape at him. “Do my brothers know about this … you?”
“No, it’s a ritual established over centuries, one that pays off since we never attack those who provide for us.”
“What about the mist creatures?”
“They are the reason this city is as fortified as it is. They fear me because of my connection to the mist, but they will attack everyone else who walks in it. They navigate mostly blind. Sound, heat, and vibration are what draw them in.”
“Are you … a magic gifted?” I ask.
“No.” I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“What do you think?” Lyla asks and looks at me with hopeful eyes.
I want to help them, but supplying them with information means spying on my family, my friends, and my flight.
How can something feel so right and so wrong at the same time? And how can I not help them? I’m reminded of the little girl and her mother a few days ago. I have to at least try, right? I swallow.
“Solaris?”
“I agree with you.” Having his support makes me feel better. I hesitate, but then nod, and I’m greeted with a relieved smile.
“So how is this going to work?” I ask.
The comment about my grandmother leaving information for me keeps circling in my mind, so instead of going straight back, I stop at home. I know my mother’s routine. She’s usually in her garden at this time of day, and I spot her right away.
She’s bent over in her herb garden, plucking out weeds between her precious plants. A big straw hat casts shadows over her face, and she straightens when I walk up to her. The air is heavy with a scent that reminds me of the tea she always made me drink when I had a cold.
“What did you do?” she says as a way of greeting, with a frown on her face.
“Nothing.” The response is so natural, I don’t even think about it. “Can’t I just visit you?”
“Sure.” She still sounds suspicious, and we are both quiet for a moment.
“Why are you so adamant that I marry Frederick?” I finally ask, curious what she’ll answer.
“You rejected him?” My mother watches me wide-eyed.
“No … but—”
“Ara, listen to me. You have to marry him.”
“But why? Is it too much to at least want to know why?”
My mother sighs, then beckons me over to the little bench next to her rose bushes, the giant elderbush casting shade on part of it.
“When we discovered your curse, your grandmother went to an oracle to seek guidance. The oracle told her that marrying the crown prince would keep you safe. So we worked toward an agreement.” But is that the truth? Or was it just my grandmother’s way of persuading them?
“An agreement about me and … Alec,” I say. The name feels as foreign as the man I thought I knew.
“When he left, we agreed on you marrying Frederick instead. The oracle only spoke of the crown prince after all,” she says, and I narrow my eyes. Is that really all it is, or is something else at play? Why have I never heard about this before?
Gods, I’m turning paranoid .
“Frederick was always such a sunny child, and everyone likes him. I’m sure you’ll get along,” she continues, and I swallow the bitter laugh before it can spill from my lips, then switch the topic.
“Did Grandma Blackstone leave anything for me?”
“We weren’t close.” My mother’s words remind me of my grandmother’s favorite piece of advice. Never trust a healer, Ara. Damn, how I wish I’d followed it. Unaware of my turmoil, my mother continues. “She would have handed whatever she left to your father. Why?”
“Just … a hunch.”
“You could check the study. I haven’t changed anything in there since Darren only uses the drawing room when he is home.”
“Thank you.” I give my mother a quick hug and turn to leave when her hand stops me.
“Please don’t do anything hasty,” she pleads, and I give her a small smile, not promising anything.
The moment I step into my father’s study, something tightens around my ribs, and my throat constricts. It still smells like him in here.
I lock the door behind me and just stand there for a minute, my eyes closed, pretending he’s sitting behind his desk and will look up with a smile once I open them. But of course he won’t.
He would have known what to do. He even knew the princes better than any of us. He would have known if his mother had left me something. He would have had answers to at least some of the questions burning in my chest.
A sob catches in my throat, and I sink into the armchair I used to sit in while he worked. I always hid in his room when I was in trouble, and he never ratted me out.