Chapter 32
I return to the castle with a few hours to spare before the sun comes up. As soon as I step into the tunnel, there is a shift somewhere in my body. Something I am unable to place. It takes me a long moment to realise I am, once again, cut off from my au’mana. The knowledge is painful but less sharp than before; now, I know it is not permanent. The existence of the tunnel itself has lessened the barb.
I trudge upwards in the dark, exhaustion slowly overtaking my limbs, but I press on regardless. Aunt Meena’s voice echoes in my head— another witch . The only witch I know for certain lived in the castle was Inez’s mother, Ruya. I press my lips into a thin, determined line, the image of her diary burned into my mind.
I reach the end of the tunnel as it opens into the gloom of the abandoned bedchambers. But when I step inside, a shape moves in the darkness .
I nearly yelp but stop myself in time, grabbing the edge of the bookcase. Vanya steps closer, moonlight cast across her face.
“What…” I gape, a hand on my chest to slow my thundering heart. “What are you doing here?”
She only narrows her eyes at me and crosses the space between us. I flinch, but she reaches past me instead, touching the bookcase tenderly.
“You have gained more use from this than we ever did,” she mutters, gazing at it wistfully.
“Who?”
She turns her piercing eyes on me.
“Inez told me she gave you Ruya’s diary. Have you read it?” she asks. There is the slightest crease between her brows.
“No. Not yet.” I squint at her, frowning. “Why?”
Vanya only sighs and turns away.
“You do not have long,” she tells me. “Now the king has a bride for the prince. He has no need of you.”
“Why a bride?” I ask quickly before she can leave. “Why now?”
“The king is not stupid. He is only growing older, and his son will take his place one day—he needs a queen he has control over. Swordstead will be in his debt for the money he has paid for her.”
My tongue withers in my mouth .
“I have time,” I say weakly. “Before he arrives.”
Vanya looks at me with such pity, tears well in my eyes.
“He does not need to be here to have you killed,” she says before opening the door. “Are all witches born with more honour than sense, I wonder?”
At once, my tears dry. I look at her sharply, frowning. A missing puzzle piece dangles in front of me.
“What do you know of other witches?” I ask.
Vanya’s eyes glint in the darkness, and then she is gone.
By the time I chase after her, the halls are empty. I look in both directions, but there is no Vanya or any guards. Frowning, I hurry back to my chambers to retrieve Ruya’s diary. It sits innocently in the middle of my bed, where I had left it. I clutch it to my chest, relieved, before opening it.
The handwriting is small but distinctly witchtongue, with looping letters across the pages. I flip forward through the dates until I reach about nine months before Theo’s birth. There are some spells written, some comments about her day and complaints about the king. I spot Vanya’s name a few times across the pages and decide to come back to it later. The queen’s name, too, is mentioned often. The three of them, it seems, were close.
I spend the rest of the night reading fervently. With Ruya’s story, the last piece of the puzzle clicks.
???
I awake to desperate banging on my chamber door. I jerk up from where I am slumped across the bed, Ruya’s diary still in my hands. I snap it closed and hide it under the pillow.
“Miss Shivani!” a male voice from the other side of the door shouts. A guard. He follows it up with more thumping.
“Yes, coming!” I call back, jumping to my feet and swinging open the door. Instantly, I know something is wrong.
The guard stands, panting, his eyes wild behind his helmet. Dark crimson is splattered across his chest, covering the king’s crescent.
“The prince,” he gasps.
“What has happened?” Alarm turns my voice shrill. “Is he alright?”
“It…is best if you see for yourself,” he answers before turning. I curse and follow him, hiking up my skirt to half-jog.
The guard hurriedly leads me to the dungeon, where the familiar stale air invades my nostrils. The taste of blood sits uncomfortably in my mouth. I can hear the prince, turned and roaring viciously .
“He has turned again so soon?” I ask breathlessly as we traverse the narrow stone stairs.
“It is worse than that, miss,” he replies, his voice grim. “He turned around noon yesterday and has not come back since.”
“He has been this way for over a day?” I exclaim, aghast. “How? Why?”
“That is what we were hoping you could tell us,” he says. “You have an affinity for him. We have seen it.”
His words curdle my stomach, spoken as if from a spy. We come to the bottom of the steps and into the dungeon.
Theo is angry, angrier than I have ever seen him in this state. He thrashes against his cage like a wild animal, furiously swiping at the bars. There are deep cuts running along his arms and face and several sections where his scales have chipped off.
“What have you done to him?” I whisper furiously, whirling on the guard. He holds his hands up.
“Not us, miss,” he replies. “He has done that to himself trying to escape.”
As he speaks, Theo throws his head back, unleashing a terrible roar that makes both the guard and I slam our hands over our ears. When he is finished, he resumes his assault on the bars. Even after I remove my hands, my ears are ringing .
“What?” I yell at the guard, seeing his lips move.
“I said we need to get him under control,” the guard replies, raising his voice. “If he is in this state when the king returns—or kills himself—the king will have our heads.”
I look at Theo, blinded by wrath, and recall Ruya’s diary. It makes sense. His mother’s magic, the word printed across his back in dragon text, which I could not quite recognise. I turn my tongue over in my mouth, tasting blood. Faeth is thick in the air. I know how to fix it. How to fix everything.
I glance at the guards around us—I cannot tell him the truth here. I need to get him back to his chambers, back to safety and away from the king’s spies.
“Did the prince know the news about the king?” I ask. “Did he know his father is only a week away from returning?”
“Well, yes,” the guard replies, looking at me quizzically. “The prince is always the first to be informed of any news.”
Without hesitation, I stride over to the bars.
“Wait!” the guard calls, but I ignore him, walking up to the outside of Theo’s cage. He pounds his fists against the blood-stained metal.
“Theo,” I say firmly. “We have only had a setback. We still have time to figure this out. We are not giving up. ”
He turns to glare at me with venomous yellow eyes. I do not look away and take a step closer.
“You and I,” I whisper to him.
He blinks, the narrow slits of his eyes expanding. I press a hand against my chest.
“Listen,” I say softly. Listen to my soul.
Recognition sparks in his eyes.
SNAP .
A wet crack echoes through the dungeon, followed by another. Theo howls painfully as his body contorts, bones and muscles snapping and rearranging. His scaley skin tears open, making way for the human skin underneath. He hunkers down, curling into a ball on the ground.
“Open the cage!” I order the guard standing slack-jawed behind me. He jolts, alarmed, before springing into action, running over with the keys in his hand. As soon as he pulls the door open, I scramble in, falling to my knees next to Theo.
“It is alright,” I soothe as the guard throws a blanket over him. He sobs and shivers as I bring him up the stairs and to his chambers.
“How did she do that?” the guards whisper to each other as we leave.
“Witch magic?”
“No, it was…something else.”
They stand out of our way, suspicion and accusation in their eyes. I ignore them and go through our routine—making him comfortable in bed, tipping lavender tonic past his lips and holding his hand until he falls asleep. It is only when he is snoring softly that I allow myself to sit back and think about what the truth truly means.
You are out of time , Vanya’s voice whispers in my mind. Theo’s unexpected turn gave me a grace period, but it will not last long. I grasp Theo’s hand and will him to recover before the guards decide I have outlived my usefulness and come for me.