Malice, page 8
“I—yes. Your Highness.” I cobble together a curtsy, gaze flicking behind her, where there must be guards stationed.
“We’re quite alone, I assure you.” She nears me, trailing one graceful hand along a hedge. A faint scent of appleblossoms and the peach-drenched wine from the celebration fills the garden. “I often come out here when I want a break from the court.”
I have no idea how to respond. What does one say to a princess? If her parents knew I was alone with her right now they would—I don’t even want to know. “It’s…nice.”
She steps back as a mud bubble erupts and splatters my gown. “That fountain has seen better days, though.”
I cringe at the dark brown liquid frothing at the base. “I’m sorry,” I begin quickly. “I didn’t mean—”
“I actually like it better this way.” She taps a fingertip to her chin. “Yes. It’s much more entertaining than anything the innovation Graces could have crafted.”
An awful sound between a laugh and a choke bursts from my mouth. I clamp my hands over my lips to smother it. Aurora pretends not to notice.
“Is that all you can do? Muck up fountains and horrify courtiers? It doesn’t seem like the sort of power that nearly vanquished the light Fae.” She watches me closely for a few beats. And then, softer, “I’m sorry they were so rude to you.”
She sounds sincere. I’ve never heard an apology uttered for anyone’s treatment of me, not one that wasn’t wrenched from Rose’s lips at Mistress Lavender’s insistence. I’m not sure what to make of it.
“I’m ashamed of them,” the princess says. “Would you like them banished? It’s the least I can do. The insult was given at my party, after all.”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s teasing me. Another of those clumsy, mortifying laughs punches through my lungs.
She grins. “Very well. Once I’m queen, it’s done.”
Quiet settles between us. I pick at the ruined parts of my dress. It feels far too tight now under her scrutiny, the seams like bars of a cage.
“I’ve heard stories about you,” she says finally. “You’re not as green as people claim.” She leans in. “A little pale, perhaps. Not a typical Grace, certainly.”
I stiffen as the familiar feeling of being found wanting expands in my chest. So she came to marvel at the half-Vila Dark Grace. Like I’m one of the creatures in the royal menagerie. “We can’t all be Grace-gifted.”
She doesn’t miss the vinegar in my tone. “Oh, no. I mean that as a compliment. The Graces are so vain.”
Another surprise. “You really think so?”
She tosses her hair over one shoulder and bats her long eyelashes, an exact copy of one of Rose’s gestures. “You can hardly expect otherwise, I suppose. The Fae magic goes right to their heads. The Royal Graces are the worst. They seem to think that because they live here, they can cluck over me and pour their newest elixirs down my throat. The witty ones are fun sometimes. And wisdoms aren’t so bad, when they’re not trying to prove you wrong. But the rest are absolutely tiresome.”
I let my shoulders drop, drinking up her words like honey. I’ve never met anyone besides Hilde who dislikes the Graces.
“And the sycophants who dote on them are worse,” she goes on, striding around the fountain and examining it like it’s a piece of art. “Don’t feel too bad about losing Arnley’s interest. You would have lost him anyway, even if you weren’t the Dark Grace. Once he’d gotten your mask off, if you catch my meaning.”
I do, and it makes the ridges of my ears burn. Graces are forbidden from romantic or intimate relationships until after they’ve Faded, but the way Rose was hanging on Arnley. The jealous twinge in her jaw when he danced with me. Had she—I’d rather not know.
“I wasn’t interested in him.”
“Good.” She wends her way back to me. Moonlight slides over the bits of red in her hair, turning them a burnished copper. Her gown shimmers over every inch of her body, as if she wears the sea itself. “My parents threw him at my head years ago. I was relieved when he wasn’t the one. The royal children would have had dozens of half-siblings.”
I nearly choke. The Grace from earlier was right. The princess is nothing if not brazen. I find myself thawing toward her.
“How often do they—” I fumble a bit, wondering if it’s a delicate subject. “Throw someone at your head?”
She laughs, a musical sound that illicits an answering call from a nearby nightingale. “Since I was barely more than a child. A few a year then, as I was the youngest. But now it’s nearly one a day.”
“Once a day? You have to—to kiss total strangers?”
“More than that after tonight.” She shrugs. Fiddles with the chain on her collarbone. “Now that this is the last year. And my sisters…”
She trails away and sympathy bats at my heart. Aurora was as young as I was when the first princess died—only a child. Even so, she likely witnessed her elder sisters welcome and kiss every suitor. How many, I wonder? She probably knows. Probably counted and hoped and held her breath in anticipation. And it all meant nothing in the end.
“I’m sorry.” It doesn’t feel like enough.
“Everyone is.” A firefly rides the next current of breeze. The light from the spark of its body snags on the jewel at her throat. Glides over the exposed skin of her shoulder, so different from mine. Pure and unbroken and lovely. “I wish I could be like you.”
“What?” I suck in air too fast and cough. That’s something I never thought I’d hear coming out of anyone’s mouth, much less a royal’s.
“I do.” There’s not a trace of doubt or mockery. “Destroy things and…” She drops her voice, studying the fountain. “People, even. Let out what simmers inside me. But I can’t. I’m too well trained. Ever grateful and graceful and—” She glances my way and a blush paints her cheeks. “Forgive me. I’m rambling.”
“No.” I dare a step closer. “I know exactly what you mean. I wanted to bring the ballroom crashing down after Rose— Well, you saw what she did. So many times I want to…” I look down, worried I’ve said too much already.
A gentle touch lands on my arm. Heat shoots through the silk of my glove. “We’re not so different, are we?”
I meet the princess’s gaze, a lump in my throat. “No. I suppose we’re not.”
“A princess and a Dark Grace. Quite the pair.” She scoops up a glob of mud with a fingertip and inspects it. “You’ve ruined my favorite fountain, you know. Those are sculptures of me.” She gestures to a marble maiden. Sludge oozes down its waist and drips from the crook of its elbow.
Damn everything. “Are they really? It’s your favorite?”
“No.” She laughs again, flicking the mud away. “But it is now. It’s absolutely my favorite thing in this entire palace.”
* * *
—
Princess Aurora herself helps me to steal away into a carriage without having to walk back through the viper’s pit of a ballroom. I’m home well before the others, drifting in on the cloud of joy Aurora cultivated in the gardens. I never thought I’d meet anyone who understood even a sliver of what it means to be me. Especially not a princess.
But the sight of myself in the mirror, the reflection in the servants’ eyes as I return, sends me crashing back to reality. I barricade myself in my room, peeling off the dress, the gloves, the one remaining shoe. Part of me feels guilty for spoiling the surprise Laurel clearly worked hard to achieve. But it isn’t me who should apologize. It’s Rose.
Rose who deals out my humiliations as easily as hands of playing cards. Rose who takes great pains to ensure I feel every bit of the hatred the realm harbors for me. And as I burrow into the safety of my coverlet, I begin to devise how, exactly, I will return the favor.
CHAPTER TEN
The rest of the household returns well after midnight. I hear their carriage clatter up the drive. The orders shouted to servants and the trudge of dance-weary footsteps. No one comes to check on me, not even Laurel, which makes me strangely sad. She probably feels it’s best to leave me be. And she’s right.
Exhaustion pulls my eyelids down, but I don’t let myself sleep. Not yet. Instead, I remove the tiny key hidden in the false bottom of my dressing table drawer and open a trunk of relics from my childhood. Old dresses I’ve outgrown and books Laurel lent me and didn’t want returned. The embossed title of one volume stares up at me in the weak light of my candle. This one did not come from Laurel. And it was not a well-meaning gift. Endlewild brought it. I remember the way those Fae eyes glinted as he tossed it at my feet.
Dark Creatures of Malterre.
I trace the letters, wings flapping in my belly.
“Forget not what you are” was all he said.
Not who—what. He’d wanted me to read the sections about Vila. Horrible stories about human sacrifices and kidnapped children and blood rituals. Tales that would frighten me. Make me understand what would happen to me if I ever used my power against Briar. But Vila are not the only creatures described in this book.
The spine creaks and the smell of dust and old paper greets me. My trembling fingers find chapters on Nyxes and Imps and Goblins, all creatures who once lived in Malterre but were driven to extinction at the end of the war.
Here, toward the end of the book. The Shifters. My eyes move so quickly I can barely take in the words.
Like the Fae, it is believed that Shifters live long—perhaps even immortal—lives. It is difficult to discern the exact lifespan due to the changeable natures of the creatures. Though there have been no reported sightings of Shifters in their native form, it is believed that they have no exterior body hair. They may also possess multiple sets of breathing apparatuses, including gills as well as humanesque noses, so that they may Shift easily from land animals to water. Skin may also be covered in scales. And blood, when extracted, is a thick, sticky black. Similar in viscosity and color to the ink of a Carthegean Squid.
That isn’t me, I tell myself firmly. I don’t look like that. I have green, Vila blood. Not black. But my gaze darts involuntarily to the backs of my hands. I may not have scales, but my skin is always dry and flaking. And while I have hair, it’s pitifully thin and lank. A good yank away from falling out completely.
But if I am a Shifter as Kal says—I could change into anyone I wanted to be. I could leave Briar behind forever.
The thought is so sweet it dissolves like spun sugar on my tongue.
The Grace Laws, my mind screams. The dogs. The ones trained to sniff out Grace blood and keep them from being smuggled out of the realm.
But I am not a Grace.
* * *
—
Once dawn breaks, I’m up. The others won’t bother to rise until at least midday and Delphine can burn my schedule for all I care. Not even the kitchen staff is awake. I stuff a sack full of pastries, nick a loaf of bread and some cheese, settle Callow on my shoulder, and leave the house before anyone’s the wiser.
Brine and sea salt scrape the inside of my nose once I pass through the main gates and turn toward the black tower. Fat clouds are rolling in from the horizon, promising a downpour. It’s a gray, miserable morning, the mist so thick I could cut it with a knife. The perfect post-ball day for the nobles to laze about in their beds, nursing their wine-soaked heads with vials of Etherium and forgetting about the Dark Grace.
I will not forget.
I will not be humiliated like I was last night. Never again.
A sour taste lands on my tongue as I try, and fail, to tamp down the images from the ballroom. Arnley’s disgusted stupor. Rose’s twisted delight. I cling to another instead, as if it’s a piece of driftwood floating in a raging sea: Aurora’s moonlit face as she studied the fountain I’d muddied. Even now, the sound of her laughter skips across the waves.
Will she have a line of suitors waiting for her this morning? Another longer one tomorrow if her true love isn’t found? My blood chills at the thought of such a curse. She must have kissed most of the men in the realm by now, entirely against her will. I shake my head to clear it. The princess was an unexpected relief when I’d needed it most. But she is a royal and not my concern. If I see her again it will be at her wedding. Or her funeral.
The encroaching storm front makes the black tower even colder and gloomier than my last visit, the sea pounding against the cliff as if it has something to prove. I enter cautiously, slipping in a few places where the worn stone is covered in moldy slime. Callow squawks her complaints.
“Kal?” His name is buried under the sound of the sea and the distant rumble of thunder. The hair on my arms begins to rise.
“You came back.”
There’s a ripple to my left. Kal appears, his hair mussed and eyes bleary, as if my arrival woke him. As the darkness unspools from his frame, Callow screeches and flaps unevenly to the ground. I soothe her with a few scraps of meat.
“I did not think you would.” The shadows waft in smoky tendrils up and down his arms. Wind around his neck and burrow into his clothes.
“You said you could teach me about my power.” I keep a healthy distance between us.
“I can.” He watches Callow, who has grown bored of us and is hunting between the cracks in the stone for more snacks. “You have a kestrel?”
I’m in no mood for distractions. “What do you want for your information?” I thrust the sack in his direction. “I brought food.”
He shakes his head. “I cannot eat. The enchantment keeps me—the way that I am. And I require no payment to train you.”
Distrust flares like a match striking. Nothing is free, I’ve learned that well enough. I lower the sack, narrowing my eyes. “Why not?”
Kal stares at me. Shadows dart between the crooks of his elbows. “We are kin. And I knew your mother well. She would want you to understand your worth.”
“Would she?” I search every crevice of his face, bracing myself for the next question—one that surfaced in the dead of night and hounded me for hours. “You said she came here twenty years ago—before I was even born. That you were going to leave here with her. Are you…did you and she—”
“No, Alyce.” One corner of his mouth rises. And I can’t decide whether the feeling in my gut is relief or disappointment. “You and I are related only through our breed of magic. This enchantment prevents me from…”
My neck burns. “You don’t need to go on.”
Kal clears his throat. “Very well. Your mother discovered me just as you did. And she trained with me for the same purpose you are here now.”
“You said she tried to free you and died for it. Would you ask the same of me?”
A wave crashes against the tower and Kal looks longingly to the horizon. “I will not ask anything you are not willing to give. I am alone here.” The shadows encircle his wrists like shackles. “It is enough to have some company for a time. To honor Lynnore. And then, when the time is right, if you feel that you could sever my bindings—” He lets out a shaky breath, as if the thought itself is too fragile to entertain for long. “I would be in your debt.”
I turn his words over and sideways, looking for evidence of deceit. “How are you so sure I’m a Shifter? I have a book that says Shifters have gills and hairless bodies and—”
He raises an eyebrow. “And I take it the author saw a Shifter in its true form?”
Silence is all the answer Kal needs.
“I thought not. Shifters almost never inhabit their original shapes. Only those so young they have not yet learned how to Shift. They embody a form similar to that of one of their parents.” His expression softens with regret. “You resemble Lynnore so much it hurts.”
The cry of a gull slices through the air.
I chew my lips, unwilling to accept what he says as truth. That Endlewild was right—I’m no better than the monsters in the book.
“If you train me, will you help me leave Briar?” The desire that’s wrecked my heart since I first watched the ships leaving the harbor and knew I could never board one.
“If you let me teach you…” Kal inches as close as he dares. Callow skitters sideways, flaring her wings. “Your power will be unstoppable. You could bring the Etherian Mountains tumbling into the sea.”
A tremor at the base of my skull tells me this is too good to be true. But I want to believe. So very badly. A bell sounds from the faraway harbor, warning of the coming storm. One day, I could be aboard one of those ships. Not the Dark Grace. Just Alyce. Sailing toward a new life.
“All right,” I say at last, smothering logic and instinct with both hands. “Prove that you can do what you say.”
Kal’s smile is a slash of white in the gloom of his shadows. “We will begin with your Vila magic. It will be hard for you to Shift at first—you have been in your human form for many years. Some Shifters, when they are too long in one shape, forget how to change back.”
“You mean—will I never be able to Shift?”
“Do not trouble yourself about it now. Typically, such a thing only occurs when a Shifter spends too long as an animal. The primal instinct takes over. But tell me of your Vila magic. How are you accessing your power now?”
“Like the Graces do. I craft elixirs with my blood.”
“Like the Graces…” Kal blinks at me a few times, his mouth opening and closing. My shoulders hunch up to my ears as he studies me. “Give me an example.”
Licking my lips, I tell him about my last run of patrons. The elixirs for blemished skin and limp curls and frumpy figures, each sounding pettier than the last. He listens without speaking until I finally run out of steam. Callow’s wings brush my hem, and I know she senses my anxiety. The heavy clouds have finally begun to fissure. Rain drizzles through the gaps in the ceiling. One fat drop lands on my nose. I swipe it away.
