Malice, page 29
“Are you frightened?” she asks.
Yes. Completely. But not of her. I’m frightened of this feeling that consumes me and promises to rip free of my body and set the entire palace ablaze. Of the way I want to taste every part of her. Devour her whole.
As if reading my thoughts, Aurora pulls her flimsy silk undergarment over her head and tosses it aside. Candlelight laps at her bareness. She is exquisite. I let my fingertips play in the hollows of her collarbone. Over her shoulders opalescent moonlight shimmers in diamond patterns, as if she is some scaled water nymph come to the surface. She leans into my touch, closing her eyes, her breaths shortening.
“Alyce. Please.”
A tremor goes through my whole body, starting at my feet and rocketing upward. Heat pools between my legs, an aching feeling of fullness I’ve never experienced. I want more of it. Want to let it break me and remake me new. And so, before I can lose my nerve, I wriggle free of the rest of my clothing, leaving nothing between me and Aurora. Sparks canter over the backs of my legs, my calves, the insides of my thighs.
My hands bury themselves in her hair, desire and longing and a dash of breathless anguish mixing together in a dizzying whirlpool of color. My head drops back as her lips and tongue discover places I never dreamed could feel so tender. And then she moans as her mouth finds somewhere entirely new, filling my whole body with a vibration that will shatter me.
The feeling intensifies, and I arch backward, bracing myself against the edge of a table. Aurora’s mouth moves quicker, tongue flicking against me, warm, wet heat traveling up the length of my body. My arms shake. Aurora grips the backs of my thighs. Sweat breaks over my chest and across my belly. And then, just when I want to beg her to stop, or to move faster, for the earth to yawn open and swallow me whole, my body goes rigid. An explosion begins where Aurora is inside of me, shooting through every fiber. Tingling in the roots of my hair. It is all I can do to sink to the floor, a limp puddle of soft bones and flaming skin.
* * *
—
We spend the rest of the long midnight hours wrapped in each other, ravenous. And with every shared heartbeat, I know that she is right—we are meant for each other. Two halves of the same whole, and I will not let my own uncertainty cleave us apart.
We don’t sleep until the night tinges gray, and even then it is only an hour, perhaps. Dawn is just blushing the warped windows when I startle awake, woken by the unfamiliar sensation of another breathing body beside me. The air is saturated with the smell of her—of our joining—and for the first time I feel that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
Aurora rouses slowly, blinking against the early morning and tossing her mussed hair out of her face. She scoots closer to me on the rug, beneath the moth-eaten blanket we found to ward off the cold, and drapes a long, slender arm over my belly.
“Go back to sleep,” she mumbles.
“I don’t understand how you can sleep, knowing what’s coming.”
She sighs, still half in her dreams. “I’ll need my strength.”
I laugh and snuggle in next to her, burying my nose in the crook of her neck and smiling as I catch my own scent mingled with hers. Closing my eyes, I try to lull myself back to slumber, pushing away the worries that rear up in the light of day. The knowledge that I will have to face the king and queen, perhaps in a matter of hours. I want a few more blissful moments with her, while it’s just us, unsullied by the others.
A bell begins to ring in the distance. Then another, the tones clanging against one another and making the glass windows shudder. Aurora sits up, pulling the blanket around herself.
“What is it?” I don’t remember the last time the bells rang in Briar. Not these, the huge bronze beasts suspended in the palace belfry. There are alarm bells spread throughout the streets, the ones that summoned us to Narcisse’s trial. But those are sharp and brittle. These are deep and joyous, their calls rolling across the Grace District, all the way out to the sea.
“It’s the curse.” She stares up at the window as if watching the approach of an invading army. “They know it’s broken.”
Not two heartbeats later, a pounding rattles the library doors. Aurora is on her feet in an instant, pulling me with her, the blanket shielding us both. The massive, ancient doors heave open, and two guards clamor through, stone-faced and bleary-eyed.
“Your Highness.” The first of them, a huge, barrel-chested man with eyebrows that look like caterpillars, bows. He rises, discovers me, and his expression falls.
The other guard skids to a stop, looking from Aurora to me with unconcealed horror. Aurora wraps her arm tighter around my waist. Stands up straighter, daring them to say a word. And they must be well trained, for they do not. Only divert their eyes to the floor.
“Your presence is requested, Highness. In the throne room.”
“Leave us.” Though a little rough, the words are clear and sure. The voice of a queen.
The guards bow again, stiffly, and retreat.
Aurora turns to me. The amber-kissed dawn catches in her eyes, lighting them up like dragon’s fire. Apprehension simmers behind it, I think. The same kind that’s turned my guts into boiled nettles. But her grip is steady as she takes my hand. Squeezes.
“Are you ready?”
Absolutely not. But I nod, squeezing back, and begin to dress.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
To my surprise, the guards do not lead us through the main halls of the palace. Instead, we keep to the servants’ passages, taking enough twists and turns to leave me utterly disoriented. Aurora refuses to let go of me, even when the maids and footmen freeze in their duties, shock scrawled on their faces. Even when we’re ushered through the discreet back entrance of the throne room and herded in front of the waiting royal couple.
The chamber is nothing like it was during Narcisse’s trial, courtiers and Graces packed limb to limb. Even the servants are sparse, stationed with their backs turned at their posts. The air buzzes with an unnatural quiet.
“Aurora, my darling.” Queen Mariel launches from her throne, her gaze fixed on our joined hands like it’s a festering wound. She sweeps her daughter into a crushing embrace and I’m pushed to the side. Mariel seizes Aurora’s wrist and slides up her sleeve, running her thumb over the spot where the thorn-riddled Briar rose once rested. “It’s truly broken. Oh, what wonderful news. Tell us what happened. We’ve been looking for you all night.”
“It is wonderful news.” There’s a slight hitch in Aurora’s voice, but she clears it. Steels herself. “And it’s true. I have found my true love.”
“The prince?” The queen claps her hands, beaming. A taste like charred deathknot fills my mouth. “I knew that kiss Elias gave you at the celebration was too chaste. You found each other later. That’s what did it.”
“Obviously she did,” Tarkin scoffs. “Showing up here in last night’s rumpled gown.”
Heat burns down my neck. Do they really not understand we were together? They must not want to believe it. They’re hoping she’ll feed them something—anything—that will contradict what’s before them.
Aurora’s cheeks color. She swallows, but does not look away.
“Don’t be silly.” Mariel’s garnet earrings glitter. “Aurora wouldn’t…”
But she trails off when Aurora finds my hand again, interlocking our fingers. “I did spend the night with Alyce. She broke the curse.”
All air is sucked from the chamber in a single, violent whoosh. Aurora’s pulse, pressed hard against my own, is rabbit-quick. Tarkin’s eyes blaze, cinders in the morning sun. He reddens, his nose the color of a ripe strawberry.
“What are you saying?” Mariel speaks first, her hand falling from her mouth. “You don’t mean…”
“I said exactly what I mean, Mother.” Aurora doesn’t even look at her. She looks at me instead, funneling strength from her bones into mine. “Alyce broke the curse. She is my true love. And we mean to marry as soon as possible.”
A mixture of horror and happiness twines tight around my soul. I feel the way I do when I stand at the top of the black tower, the sea stretching out before my feet, a strong wind away from falling. Or flying.
“Alyce?” The queen’s shrill voice sends me hurtling back to reality.
“That’s her name.” Aurora bristles. “Though you so conveniently forget it when you’re warning her to stay away from me and disinviting her to parties.”
“You are mistaken, my darling.”
“No, I understand very clearly.” She rounds on them both. “You’ve been dictating my life since the moment I was born. I won’t stand for it any longer. I am the future Briar Queen. You cannot stand in our way.”
“And what about children?” Mariel blurts. “Your duty to Briar is to provide the next heir to rule. You can’t possibly do that with—” She gestures wildly at me. “With that.”
The word strikes me like an arrow in my chest. My shoulders hunch against the wound. But Aurora is stronger. Her arm goes around my waist.
“My duty to Briar is to improve the realm—and there’s much to be done on that account, isn’t there?” Her silent accusation prompts raspberry blotches to erupt on the skin above the queen’s neckline. “We will establish the issue of succession later.”
“This is a new curse.” Mariel’s wrath homes in on me. “You’ve tricked her into believing she loves you. You’re trying to take the throne for yourself. You evil, malicious thing. Just like your ancestors. We should have put you down when we found you. I’ve always known what you are.”
My head spins. This was a mistake. A terrible, awful mistake. Aurora steps in front of me, protecting me.
“That’s enough. You will not speak to her that way.”
Hot tears track down the sides of my neck.
“Tell me, daughter.” Tarkin taps his signet ring against the arm of his throne, slow and deliberate. “You think you know the Dark Grace?”
A current of cold air snakes between us.
“What does that mean?” Aurora snipes back. “Of course I do. Better than either of you, blinded by your own ignorant hatred.”
At that, the Briar King laughs. The tips of his teeth gleam. Numbness fizzes along the base of my scalp and between my toes. No, he cannot mean to—I hadn’t had the chance to tell Aurora yet. I open my mouth to say something—anything that might prevent this from happening, but I’m rooted to the spot.
“Oh, Aurora. You think you’re ready to be queen? You can’t even see what’s right in front of you.” Tarkin rises, looming over us like the dragon doors of his war room. “Your precious Alyce has been working for me.”
“That isn’t true.” Aurora turns to me, searching for an answer. When I don’t respond, the first inky tinges of doubt bleed across her features. “Alyce?”
I cannot bring myself to reply.
“Filthy beast,” Mariel spits at me. “This is how you repay our generosity?”
The question brings me out of my stupor. Anger balls inside my chest, fanged and livid. “Generosity? Is it generous to be placed in a Grace house, ordered to produce elixirs for every noble nursing a grudge? To be neglected, excluded from every social event, gawked at like I’m a creature from a nightmare? Treated as an abomination my entire life?”
“Save your dramatics. You were paid for your services.” Tarkin waves me off. “Quite a sum, if I recall.”
“That’s not—”
“Quite a sum?” Aurora interrupts. Her forehead creases.
“Aurora, I…”
“The gold,” she breathes. “The gold I saw you with. It was so much. I thought perhaps that’s what every Grace earns, but…but it was from my father. Wasn’t it?” She is too still. Her skin too pale. I reach for her, but she bats me away. “You lied to me.”
Tarkin claps slowly and I recoil as though I’ve been struck. “I knew you were clever. Yes, Aurora. Now you see.” Sunlight dances on the jewels in his crown. “Let me show you exactly what the Dark Grace has been doing. Boy!” One of the servants scuttles over. “Fetch our subjects from Master Gray.”
Subjects? My insides curl.
An eternity passes after the gangly servant disappears through a side door. Tarkin strolls from one end of the room to the other, almost jovial. Aurora will not look at me.
Finally, there’s a distant shuffle and clanking. The door opens again and three Graces are led before us. Dragon’s teeth. They look exactly as Narcisse had. Ripped and dirtied clothing hang off their half-starved frames. Rough iron chains leave raw marks and scabbed blisters on their wrists and ankles. Their eyes are sunken and dull. Some of them are even sporting silver streaks in their matted hair.
Nausea rolls through me and I have to clench my teeth to keep from retching. What has the king done?
“Alyce has been helping me with an experiment,” the king continues, circling his prisoners with a kind of sick approval.
He’s lying. I never—but then the pieces of this awful game begin to click into place.
“That isn’t possible,” Aurora whispers. “She wouldn’t do this.”
“Really?” The king moves to the first Grace and trails one finger back and forth in front of her gaze. But the emaciated creature only stares ahead, eyes vacant and cloudy.
“As it turns out, our Dark Grace is far more talented than we first believed. She’s been cursing items for me using her Vila blood. Like this ring.” Tarkin lifts the Grace’s hand. A golden ring glints on her first finger. “It causes blindness.”
The ring I cursed for the king. Endlewild said it had been used on a nobleman, but I never thought—
“Alyce?” The distance between Aurora and me feels like an ocean. “Is that what you did?”
My tongue peels itself from the roof of my mouth. I cannot deny it. “I—yes. But it wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”
There’s nothing I can say. I knew the king would use the items I cursed. I convinced myself that it wasn’t my fault who got hurt. But I thought he was lashing out against courtiers. Against those who deserved it. But seeing these Graces—broken and spent—it is my fault. Utterly and completely.
“You understand what she is now,” Tarkin says. “Self-serving and vindictive. I suppose the substantial gold I supplied to commission these items wasn’t enough for her. The Dark Grace wants the realm for herself. And so she used that Vila magic to trick you into falling in love so she could usurp your throne.”
“No.” Aurora backs away, merciful certainty returning to her voice. “She wanted me to rule. She was helping me break the curse. We…we tried everything.”
“And yet nothing worked. Except this convenient kiss?” Tarkin tilts his head at me. “I wonder, was she trying to help you, or merely pretending? Tell me, Aurora. Did the Dark Grace truly do everything in her power to free you from your burden?”
I feel the threads of this situation slipping out of my control, but I can’t grasp them.
Aurora doesn’t answer, but I can see her stitching together bits of memory. Each time I refused to use my blood for a healing potion or a ritual. Refused because I didn’t want to hurt her. Because I was afraid of the ancient Vila summoned by my blood. But it must look like I was biding my time. Waiting for just the right moment.
“Aurora, please.” But her lips are slack. Her arms wrapped around her middle, as if she’s holding herself together.
“Were you using me, Alyce? While you were—” She looks to the battered Graces then back to me, utterly repulsed.
“No, Aurora, I—”
Her next words slice me to pieces. “Who are you?”
“Don’t worry, my dear.” Tarkin snatches up the reins. “You won’t have to be troubled with her any longer. You will marry Prince Elias. As of yet, the court knows nothing. We will tell them the prince broke the curse with another kiss later in the evening. They will believe it.”
“It’s for the best,” the queen chimes in. She pulls Aurora farther away from me, a ship on the horizon, leaving me behind. “You remember the story I told you. About Eva. We do not want another…”
“You can’t.” Aurora’s cheeks regain a splash of fire. “I will not!”
But the king raises his hand, Briar rose signet an ominous eye.
“You will do as you are bid,” he says, low enough to be a growl. “Or you will have a tragic accident.”
The chamber thrums with his words. Even the queen looks confused. She stops mid-step. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, both of you.” The king does not waver. Does not even skip a breath. “Aurora will marry the Ryna prince. We need some reason to explain the curse breaking other than the truth. And if she does not, she will go the way of her sisters.”
Aurora extracts herself from her mother’s grasp. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Oh, but he would. We are standing in the room where Narcisse’s gift was drained. I can see her ghost flitting between us, her lips like granite and her eyes storm clouds. She is screaming at me to run. Hide from this mad Briar King.
“It amuses me how little you know.” Tarkin laughs. “See if you can wrap your mind around this: There is an edict before the small council, giving the reigning Briar King sole right to rule in Briar.”
The hall is utterly silent. I think I can hear the dust filtering through the sunbeams.
“The council will not stand for it.” The queen’s voice tears through the void. Wretched. Feral. “I am the ruler of Briar. These are my people.”
“Darling wife.” The smile on the king’s face sickens me. It’s the same one he wore at the trial. “I don’t see how this is much different from our current arrangement. You signed over most of your duties on the day we wed. This edict just cuts the last remaining strings. You’ll hardly miss it, my pet.”
