Malice, page 35
“Even if she did see her, it wouldn’t matter.” Rose again. Mistress Lavender makes a noise of protest, but Rose ignores her. “The curse, whatever it was, was altered. The princess is sleeping. She will wake again, with a kiss.”
Hope canters through my limbs. “I can wake her. Our kiss broke the curse the first time.”
“Your kiss?” Marigold’s face is a mask of disbelief and disgust.
This time, I cannot stop myself. My magic lunges, finding Marigold’s small heart of power in an instant. It feels like putty against mine, so easy to meld and mash. Marigold croaks, her mouth falling open as her lips darken. Agony explodes in her eyes, like falling stars.
“Alyce, enough!” Mistress Lavender’s hands are on my shoulders, shaking me violently. My concentration falters and I let Marigold go. She slumps in her chair, head back and staring at the ceiling as her chest heaves. “What’s gotten into you?”
“It was always there,” Rose says. Her expression has not changed at all, her golden eyes cool and calculating. “We didn’t call her Malyce for nothing.”
Still primed, my power begs me to reach in and squeeze her golden Grace magic until her eyes are as empty as Kal’s were. But what’s the point? She’s not worth the effort.
“Your kiss cannot break the curse.” Rose picks a bit of fluff from her sleeve. “There are protections in place.”
Protections. The word sizzles in my mind like acid. “That isn’t possible.”
“It was decided”—Mistress Lavender wrings her hands—“that the princess will wake with a kiss from a suitor of the royal family’s choosing.”
Of Tarkin’s choosing. “They can’t—”
“It’s done, Alyce.” Sunlight glints off the amethyst ring on her finger, as if the Briar rose itself is winking. Mocking me. “Your kiss will not wake her. In matters like these, the Etherians can use their power to put up shields. To protect the innocent.”
The way they had bound Kal. Had trapped Mortania inside the medallion.
“No.” I retreat until my shoulder blades meet the doorframe. “He couldn’t have.”
Rose shrugs. “I suppose we’ll find out. I bet they wake her this morning.” She inspects the beds of her fingernails. “It’s a shame you’ll miss the wedding. The princess and Prince Elias will make a beautiful couple.”
The wedding. As if summoned by Rose’s words, the bells of Briar begin to ring. Full and majestic, the same bells that announced the breaking of the curse. How different they sound to my ears only a day later.
“There will be no wedding,” I vow, as much to myself as to the others.
“Really?” Rose twirls a pink curl around one finger. “What are you going to do about it?”
That same feeling from the black tower washes over me. I am Vila. And I have Mortania’s magic inside me now. Nothing will stop me. Certainly not these vain, vapid creatures.
“Rose, do you remember when your elixirs soured?”
The smirk on her lips disappears.
“You were right.” I grant her my most saccharine smile, already beginning to Shift. A tingling starts in the tips of my toes and gallops up my legs. “It had nothing to do with your gift waning.”
“You.” She leaps from the lounge and reaches for the first sharp object she can find. A gilded knife, the blade still slick with the remnants of an enhancement. “I knew it. Beast. Mongrel. I will—”
But her rage melts to shock as my spine lengthens and my hair fills out, falling in lush waves around my face. The burn behind my eyes tells me they’ve changed from black to gold. Rose’s knife thumps as it hits the rug.
“What I did with your elixirs was the very least of my abilities. For twenty years I’ve let this realm trample over my back. Keep me caged and controlled. But I am not a beast. Not a mongrel. I am Vila. My power will never Fade. And you’re about to feel every bit of it come down upon your heads.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Their astonished and outraged cries swell as the door to Lavender house slams behind me for the last time. I have no doubt that they will call the guards. Let them. With my Shift complete, I look like a cerulean-haired Grace. Limbs still buzzing, I slip into a carriage and direct it to the palace.
I spend the drive slapping together a plan. What if Aurora has already awakened? A chill shudders through me at the thought of her standing at the altar next to Elias. The white ribbon binding her to the prince, as much a brand as the mark of the curse.
No. I will not let that happen. I’ll make this right. Destroy anyone who stands in our way—the Briar King himself if need be.
With the palace in a frenzy, no one thinks anything of another Grace sailing through the gates. The guards nod at me. One of them even winks at me. During the carriage ride, I’d altered my Shift slightly so that my illusioned gown is cut low and close, lending me the appearance of a pleasure Grace. And so it is easier than I imagined to stroll through the corridors and find my way to the royal wing.
At this hour, it’s mostly servants scurrying back and forth. But there are some early risers. Nobles already dressed in their formal satins and velvets, dealing out gossip like hands of cards. What snippets I catch have to do with the dress Aurora will be wearing and the length of time it will take her to become pregnant. My ears burn and I quicken my pace.
Preparations are already underway for the wedding. Carts overflowing with Grace-grown Briar roses, their petals bursting violet, then gold, then white, are trundled down the halls. Intertwined A’s and E’s, probably embroidered overnight by bone-tired maids, glare down at me from columns and balconies. I can just make out the first sleepy strains of cellos and violins warming up in the distance.
I ask directions from a passing servant, a broad-faced girl who trips over her own tongue in my presence. She hesitates at first, bobbing curtsies at me right and left, unsure whether she should divulge such information. But when I explain my purpose—preparing the princess for the nuptial bed—the poor girl blushes beet-red and stammers out a series of turns.
The main entrance to Aurora’s rooms is a set of doors carved from a pale, shimmering wood that looks like it’s been harvested from Etheria itself. An engraved dragon soars across the opalescent surface, its eyes picked out with glittering rubies. I approach cautiously, doing my best to keep my chin up and my shoulders back. To look like I belong.
“The princess is indisposed,” one of her guards explains patiently. The small kindness makes me flinch.
So they haven’t broken the curse yet.
For a heartbeat, all I can do is stare at him. What would a Grace do in this situation? Turn around and leave?
Rose wouldn’t.
I lick my lips. “I am here for that very reason.” I let my fingers drift to the lace at my neckline, noting the way the guards’ gazes follow the movement. “I’m told she suffers from an onset of nerves. And I am here to…assuage her.”
It’s enough for one of them to let out a snicker. The other guard clears his throat, shooting his partner a warning look despite the hint of flush beneath his stubble.
“We were given orders that no one comes inside without the queen,” he says. “And you’re not the Royal…” he fumbles. Clears his throat again. “Pleasure Grace.”
Damn. But I try not to let my confidence waver. Only widen my smile and make my voice huskier. “No. I was sent as a replacement. The Royal Grace is…otherwise engaged. I could tell you what room she’s in—if you need to check for yourselves.”
The guard’s color deepens. His colleague chokes and pounds his chest.
“Very well,” the first says, utterly flustered. And with a mumbled warning about being quick, he opens the door.
Little has changed since the night I snuck in through the servants’ entrance. Aurora’s sitting room is tomblike, the veiled spinning wheel still crammed into its far corner. I want nothing more than to smash it to pieces—and every last spinning wheel in Briar, for that matter. But I’m not here for that.
Outside the bells continue tolling in their insufferable cadence. I turn the lock in the door, buying myself a few extra moments. And then I go to Aurora’s bedchamber.
My skin tingles at the sight of her. She is laid out on her bed, still wearing the clothes she had on last night, a periwinkle gown with gold embroidery on the bodice and sleeves. A light blanket is thrown over her body, her hands folded on her stomach.
I hurry forward and let go of my Shift. Aurora’s chest rises and falls in a smooth, deep rhythm. Her lips are dry, but pink. And she is warm, so wonderfully warm. I don’t realize I’m crying until tears begin to stain the silk stitching of her blanket. I pick up one of her hands, the one that met the spindle, and kiss each fingertip. The way she had on our night together.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, close to her ear. And then I kiss the skin below her earlobe, where her strong pulse beats. Find her lips with mine, channeling every memory of us. Calling on the love that sprouted in my barren wasteland of a heart. On the faith I have in her—in us.
But she does not rouse. What have I done?
“Alyce?”
I freeze. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the glimmer of an emerald braid.
Laurel.
“What are you doing here?” My panic ebbs, swallowed by surprise.
She stands in the doorway to Aurora’s bathing chamber, a bottle of some peach-colored liquid in hand. Her gaze travels to Aurora, then back to me. “I came with the Fae lord to deliver the princess. They don’t want the servants to know what’s happened, and so they left me to watch over her until…”
“You helped him with this?”
“You mean did I help save Briar’s only heir from a Vila curse? Yes, I did.”
I bristle. “I wouldn’t hurt her—you know that.”
“I know that you promised you had this situation under control.” She sets the bottle down on a side table. “Clearly, you didn’t.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. It wasn’t my fault.”
“It never is, is it?” The tone of her voice feels like a slap. I crumple a fistful of blanket. “You craft curses, but the effects aren’t your responsibility. You come up with some half-baked plan to depose the Briar King, and it’s our future queen who winds up nearly dead.”
“That was an accident! I would never—”
“I know you wouldn’t,” Laurel interrupts. Her expression softens. “But I also know this situation was entirely out of our depth.”
“What does that mean? You regret allying with us?”
“We had no chance of winning. I knew that from the start. I should have gone to Endlewild right away and—”
“Endlewild?” Something slithers between my ribs. She’s never used his name like that before, without the honorific. And she wouldn’t. As full-blooded Fae, he ranks far above the Graces.
“Yes. I told you we’ve been speaking of late.”
But I can tell from the way she picks at the end of her braid that it’s been longer than that. “When was the first time?”
“After I Bloomed.” She straightens her sleeves. “And then at parties.”
“Liar.” The black silk of my magic ripples. “Tell me the truth.”
Fear simmers stark ocher in her gaze. Good.
“I did meet him after I Bloomed.” Her fingers knot and unknot. I’ve never seen her so restless. “Alyce, you have to understand that—”
“Just tell me.”
She paces. Halts. “On the night of my Blooming Ceremony, Endlewild asked me to report on your actions. I was placed in Lavender House specifically to watch you.”
For a moment, there is only the sound of the bells pealing outside. The soft ticking of the clock on the dressing table.
“And you agreed? You…spied on me?”
“I was afraid of you,” she rushes on. “Everyone was. In the nursery, you were the subject of nightmares and horror stories. And then I was placed in your house? I was terrified, Alyce.”
Unwelcome tears graze the back of my throat. “All those years—you were telling him everything about me.”
Bits of memory, like shards of glass, begin to fly together. My missing gold. The king’s servants sneaking into my Lair without leaving a trace. Laurel appearing in my Lair in the dead of night—she never did tell me what she was doing “visiting” me. Now I know. She didn’t think I was alone. She thought the Lair was empty. She’d been breaking in. Poking her nose in my affairs. She’s the one who stole my gold. Who told the Briar King what I was planning to do. This is why Endlewild stopped coming to check on me after I started working for Lavender House. He didn’t need to. Laurel did it for him.
“It wasn’t easy,” she says. “Not after I got to know you. You’re not a monster. And I meant what I said before. You and Lord Endlewild would be so much stronger together.”
“Get out.” I can hardly breathe around my rage. Around the magic that swells and hums inside me, desperate for an outlet. “Leave us.”
“Alyce.” She edges toward the bed. “You can’t think this is going to end in your favor. The curse is different this time.”
On instinct, I move closer to Aurora, blocking the path to her body. “Why?”
She presses her lips together, as if debating whether to answer, but then goes on. “Because when the princess wakes, she will not remember you. Not as you are.”
I glance at Aurora. The smoothness of her forehead. The untroubled lines of her mouth. “What does that mean?”
“When we softened the curse”—Laurel speaks to me as though I’m a frightened animal, each word deliberate—“we made sure that when the princess thinks of you, she will know you only as a Vila. As a threat.”
“You can’t do that. It’s dark magic—to tear us apart.”
But Kal’s words in the tower come back to me. “The Vila have a terrible reputation for lies and trickery, but the Etherians are just as wicked. They only mask it better…”
“You know that my gift is wisdom. With my elixirs, I can shape the knowledge in another’s mind. Help them make decisions.” She swallows. “And with Endlewild’s help, I reached into Aurora’s memory and changed it.”
“That is not your gift,” I insist. “That is evil. You cannot have done this to us.”
She lowers her gaze. “It is not evil, Alyce, if it was done for a greater good.”
“What greater good?” I shout at her. “Keeping the princess away from someone like me? A mongrel?”
“No. I don’t see you that way.” She reaches for me but I slap her away.
“Then why did you do it?” I laugh, but it is a haunting, caustic sound. “Because you’re Endlewild’s special little pet? Because you hate me? Please, explain the price of your betrayal. I want to know what you’re worth.”
She recoils.
“You know how I feel about the Grace Laws. How determined I am to reform them.”
“What of them? Aurora already made your precious blood oath. She will do whatever is necessary—”
“The princess is a human. And human promises are fickle, brittle things, easily broken, easily forgotten.”
Endlewild’s words if I ever heard them.
“You don’t trust her? After everything we’ve done. After everything she did—”
“She is one person, Alyce!” At last, that veneer of stoic calm cracks. “And her hold over Briar is not secure. She was irresponsible, going to the black tower alone. Relying on only a few people when she should have united a realm. She has no idea how to lead.”
“And you do?” I fling back. “Endlewild does?”
“Yes,” she hisses. “He’s witnessed queen after queen sit on the throne. And he’s tired of the greed and the corruption—as tired as I am.” She pauses. Takes several breaths. “It turns out that Lord Endlewild’s sporadic absences from court have been trips to Etheria. He’s been negotiating with the High King of the Fae to intervene on behalf of the Graces. To stop the humans from enslaving us. The Fae will unseat Tarkin and uphold the queen’s reign. And we will have everything I asked for—a council composed of Graces, a new system, all of it.”
“And what did you promise in return?”
But my heart already knows.
“He refused the arrangement,” she says quietly, “should a Vila be on the throne. Or in a position to influence the queen.”
I nod, numb. “And so you get everything you desire—in exchange for my happiness. What a simple bargain to make.”
“It is for the good of all Graces. For Briar. We can’t afford another ruler like Tarkin. Even you can see that.”
“Even me? The beast?”
“That’s not what I mean.” Laurel tries to reach for me again, but the look on my face must have her thinking better of it. “I didn’t do it to hurt you. After our first plan fell apart, this was the only deal the Fae lord would make. You must understand.”
“I understand that I trusted you. That you took the one person in my life whom I love and traded her for your own gain.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I press on. “Tell me, Laurel, who will head this new Grace Council? Will it be you? Will Endlewild perhaps grant you the long life of a Fae so that you may serve as the liaison between the Fae courts and the human world forever?”
A golden flush climbs like Briar roses up her neck, and I know I’ve hit my mark.
“Of course he did. You know, I thought you were above such vanity. But you’re no better than Rose. Terrified of Fading. And now you’ve ensured that you never will.”
A muscle in her temple twitches. “It isn’t about that.”
“Is it not? How silly of me.” A harsh laugh, steel grating against steel, punches between us.
“You need to leave, Alyce.” She glances toward the door and I know she is using her gift. Trying to wheedle me into reason. “They will be coming soon. Tarkin has days—hours perhaps—before the Etherians arrive and bring him down. And they will kill you.”
