“What did he tell the villagers?”
“That the Prince had brought his magician-wife to punish them.”
I swallowed down my fear. Vené had stirred up the villagers in order to kill me. I started to speak, but Matu held up his hand and cocked his head to the side. “We cannot hide the horse. Come, Echo, we must fly.” He helped me to the edge of the cavern and wove his fingers through mine. With a song pulsing in the back of his throat, he jumped, pulling me with him.
We fell for only a moment, but it felt like a lifetime. After landing softly, he helped me onto the horse, and then saddled up behind me. He whispered something to the horse in Nythinian, and the animal took off at a gallop through the forest.
Matu kept the horse at an insane pace throughout the morning. I couldn’t tell if we were going up a mountain or down, because I had to keep my body bent close to the beast’s neck to keep from falling off.
Matu slowed the animal and stopped it near a trickle of water coming down the mountain. “Behold your country, my lady,” he said, sweeping his arm across the horizon.
We stood about halfway up the mountain, looking down into a valley. Dense forests extended down from where we lingered. When they ended, farmland began and continued to the sprawling city of Nyth. The roads meandered, some dead-ending and others creating a thoroughfare through the city. Trees lined some streets and clumped together in other areas, the leaves already turning glorious shades of orange and red. The buildings had no order to them. Some towered, some squatted. Beyond them gleamed a white castle with three spires piercing the sky.
The High King’s palace. I shivered in the blowing wind, because even from this great distance, the wicked magic of Nyth called to me in a way no other power had before.
Thirty-Four
“They’ll know you immediately,” Matu said as we left the farmland behind and entered the first inklings of the city. “The High King has magicians everywhere, and they’ve all been trained to recognize another with power. Yours is too strong to conceal for very long.”
He had been breathing instructions and warnings for the past few hours as we came off the mountain. I’d never heard Matu speak so much.
Do not let them know how strong you are. Subdue as much magic as you can.
Allow the High King to believe that you are in his debt. He is vain and seeks approval wherever he can find it.
Try to speak as little as possible. He’d said this with a wry smile on his face that disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Do not show too much emotion when you see Cris. He’s fine.
The last one troubled me. Matu hadn’t related anything that would indicate that Cris was anything but safe. But fine and safe didn’t mean the same thing. With Cris’s scars fresh in my mind, I didn’t have to stretch my imagination to come up with a new horror for him.
The narrow street where Matu and I rode would barely accommodate a carriage. We passed derelict buildings that appeared abandoned. Squat houses with clotheslines out front also dotted the lane. Thin alleys ran between the structures, filled with overflowing garbage bins and stray cats.
Matu guided me down another street, one that curved further into the city. The buildings increased in height and cleanliness, children played with sticks in tiny front yards, and flags of red and black flew at intervals along the sidewalks.
A group of men rounded the corner, coming directly toward Matu and me. It reminded me strongly of the soldiers that had knocked on my apartment door that fateful day months ago. A hesitant pause filled my step as I took in the official Nythinian crest on their jackets, which were knee-length and black. Their boots rose to the hems of their coats, and red scarves adorned their necks. They wore military caps on their heads, complete with a red feather and a band of gold around the rim. Swords hung on their belts, slapping against the fabric of their coats as they moved down the street.
They didn’t spare us a glance. Children abandoned their games and retreated to front porches as they passed. An eerie quiet filled the street, which had been filled with laughter and the rumble of life a few moments before.
“Come.” Matu pulled on my elbow. I realized I’d stopped walking and turned to follow the progress of the soldiers.
I made haste to join him. “Who were they?”
“King’s men,” he said. “Not magicians. Don’t draw their attention.” He scanned me, and a distasteful look crossed his face. “You look worse than I thought. We should get you cleaned up.” He turned abruptly down a side alley, this one cluttered with several bicycles in various stages of disrepair. I’d ridden a bicycle only once, on a dare from Oake. He hadn’t disclosed that the contraption had no brakes, and I’d ended that ride upside down in a pile of garbage. Oake had laughed and laughed. I remembered the firmness of his hand as he pulled me from the banana peels and broken eggshells.
Matu maneuvered to the back of a building and went down four steps before knocking on a dark green door. A woman answered it, wiping her sudsy hands on her apron. She regarded Matu with surprise in her eyes and silence on her lips. She glanced at me before stepping aside to let us enter.
Matu lowered his head in gratitude, inspiring me to do the same as we passed. She secured the door behind us. “This way,” she said, her voice much higher than I anticipated. Her hair reminded me of Olive’s, a brown the exact same shade as my sister’s. This woman had braided the earthen strands and then wrapped them into a knot.
She moved with purpose down a hall, opened another door, and ushered us inside. From the cabinets lining one wall she plucked towels and linens, ribbons and brushes, soap and perfumes. She set them all on the vanity in the corner. “I will send Lydia.”
“Thank you, Britta,” Matu said.
“Where are we?” I whispered once she had gone. “Does she know you?”
“I usually have an appointment,” Matu said, a completely maddening answer. “I’ll take my leave, Highness. I must—”
“Do not call me that.” At the shock on Matu’s face, I sighed. “Sorry. It’s . . . ” I did not want Matu to think poorly of me. But when he said “Highness” I heard the sarcasm that had come from the man in the woods.
Matu stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me in an embrace of comfort. “You have been through much. Stay strong, Echo.” He released me and took his leave.
I stood in the room, drinking in the sterility of it. The cupboards and walls had been painted clapboard white. Dark drapes sheathed the window. Next to the vanity, a well-worn recliner beckoned to me.
I’d no sooner sunk into the cushions before a girl entered the room. Her hair was pulled back so tightly, it stretched her face too thin. She didn’t smile nor introduce herself. “This way, please.”
Her tone held no friendliness, and I jumped to follow her. “Shall I bring these things?” I paused next to the vanity where Britta had piled the supplies.
“If you wish to use them,” she said, and I couldn’t decide if coldness made her voice so hard or if it sounded that way naturally.
I swept the supplies into my arms. Lydia didn’t wait for me and had already gone further into the building by the time I reached the hall. I caught a swish of her dark skirt as she turned the corner up ahead.
I ran to catch her, a rumble of annoyance creeping through me. “I can bathe and get dressed myself,” I said to Lydia as we ascended the stairs.
She snorted and walked faster.
“I can, I’m from Iskadar, and have spent many days in the service of my fellow men.”
Lydia’s eyebrows shot up, and she cut me a glance out of the corner of her eye.
“If you have other work,” I said. “I don’t mind taking care of myself. I don’t wish to be a burden.”
“Iskadar, you say?” she said, and I sensed a crack in her icy exterior.
“Yes.” My stomach twisted slightly. Perhaps I’d given away too much. Perhaps the High King had warned the entire population of Nyth to be wary of foreigners, especially young wom
en from Iskadar.
“How came you to Nyth?”
I scrambled for an answer she would believe. The men in Iskadar often traded the spoils of their hunts with the merchants of Nyth. “My father is a hunter. He—”
“Lydia, can you spare a moment?” Britta leaned against a doorway further down the hall, and she gestured Lydia forward.
I exhaled my lie. Never had I been so happy to refrain from speaking.
“Right here.” Lydia pushed open a door and then strode down the hall toward Britta.
I dashed into the room and closed the door behind me. This room rivaled my bathing chamber in the compound. Gentle curtains hung in the windows. Each surface had been meticulously scrubbed. The air held a hint of floral. The tub sank into the floor in the corner, easily large enough for six people. Steam billowed from it, and I wasted no time stripping my filthy and smoky dress and easing my body into the water.
A soft sigh escaped my lips, and I allowed myself to relax for the first time in days.
The bath only provided relief for a few minutes. All too soon, the uneasiness returned, urging me to be on my way. I finished pinning my hair back and smoothed the cotton of my new skirt. Though not up to royal standards, the provided clothes were well sewn and gloriously clean. I’d be presentable, at the very least.
I slipped out of the bathing chamber and retraced my steps downstairs. Matu sat in the recliner, supporting his head with his hand. He jerked to attention when I entered, and stood while I quickly replaced the soaps and perfumes on the vanity.
Something seethed under my skin, making it feel tight and itchy. “We must go,” I said, not entirely sure what to make of this new sensation.
“There are magicians nearby,” Matu said, his eyes on the window. “Perhaps we should wait a few minutes.”
I paced with nervous energy, unable to sit still. “I think they’ve already sensed me,” I said. “I don’t think we should wait for them to find us here.”
Matu whipped open the door and together we made for the exit. I didn’t want to be contained by walls, and I suspected that he didn’t want to endanger this place. He’d probably brought many refugees through this safe house. We didn’t return to the street through the bicycled alley. Instead, Matu led me deeper into a labyrinth of narrow passages.
Outside, I was surprised to find the sky fading into darkness. I did my best to keep up with Matu, who moved like a shadow. We came out of the alley into a torch-lit street lined with trees. Matu took my arm as he had so many times before and strolled the way he did when we moved through the gardens.
We blended into the crowd of couples, all linked at the arm. The men wore hats, and gold chains dangled from their suit coat pockets. The women carried purses or umbrellas, and their shoes made clicking noises against the pavement. I wore no shoes, the only sign that I didn’t belong with this crowd.
No one paid us any attention as we navigated the street. The buildings glowed with oil lamps and stretched to the heavens. I wanted to see the tops of them, and I couldn’t help craning my head back to try.
Matu led me gently, though his muscles tensed and his grip felt firm against my side. His anxiety seeped into me, and I pulled my focus from the wealth of the neighborhood. Just as I did, Matu stopped. “Bury what magic you can.” His gaze never wavered from the line of men in front of us.
I forced back my fear and my magic, though both desperately wanted to be released. They raged inside, nearly ripping me apart.
The men in front of us carried no weapons and wore no uniforms, only thick robes of the deepest black.
Magicians.
Behind them, the palace of the High King loomed, the spires now glowing with the help of gas-powered spotlights.
Thirty-Five
Matu and I were separated. The magicians jostled him up the road toward the High Castle, bumping into him in what looked like a deliberate attempt to knock him off his feet.
In contrast, not a single person touched me. A strange satisfaction soared through them with the knowledge that I scared them. I thought this must be how the High King felt all the time. The sensation wasn’t entirely unwelcome, and that truly frightened me.
I continually shoved wicked magic away from me, noticing how dense and persuasive it felt. Completely unlike the airy, gliding magic I’d experienced after following Grandmother to Relina in my dreams.
Both magic forms felt commanding, as if they each could consume the atmosphere and still need additional space. Both felt ancient and immortal, with an intelligence I had never known.
The magicians marched us straight to the palace. Great double doors of gold rotated open slowly, powered by a team of soldiers cranking on each side. They wore stoic expressions, not the least bit friendly, as we crossed into a cavernous courtyard. A set of black iron doors beckoned one hundred yards away. In between, benches, potted plants, trees, and statues broke the straight path into a maze I couldn’t find my way through simply by looking.
Balconies similar to those in the compound lined the courtyard, and soldiers prowled them with bows strapped to their backs.
Apparently the High King had need to worry about an invasion. He’d certainly taken every precaution.
The magicians wove through the courtyard in single file. Matu and I scurried along with them, like ants blindly following their leader. My heart had settled back into a normal rhythm, but that only allowed the anger I’d repressed to burn into existence.
“Where are we going?” I demanded, and I swore Matu groaned in front of me. “I’m the Princess. I need not be treated like a criminal. And my guard deserves more respect than you’ve shown him.”
The magician a few feet in front of me broke the formation by turning right instead of left. Those in front of him, along with Matu, had stopped. I refused to move also, watching the magician who’d removed himself from the group.
He leveled his gaze at me, his mouth stiff and stubborn. “The High King has given us instructions to escort you to the throne room.”
“I will gladly go,” I said. “But I will not be treated in such a disrespectful manner. Nor will I allow you to herd my trusted guard like an animal.” I held my chin high and watched the surprise flit across the magician’s face.
“My apologies,” he said. “We didn’t know of your willingness to cooperate.”
“You never asked.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s your name?”
He turned his head to the side, but I didn’t miss the flicker of fear in his expression. “Quinn.”
“Quinn,” I repeated. “I will be discussing you with the High King. I hope I can say something of benefit.” Everyone present recognized the threat. I was the Princess, whether by choice or not. They knew not what had transpired in Umon; they knew only what I showed them.
I wove down the new path Quinn had blazed. “Lead on, Quinn, but tell your men to at least pretend like they don’t want to sing us into oblivion.”
A murmur ran through the magicians behind me, but I didn’t turn to challenge them. Quinn signaled to the magician leading Matu’s party and together we advanced toward the second set of doors.
I dared a glance at Matu and found him beaming in my direction.
#
With every step, I felt further confined to the lion’s den. I did my best to ignore the opulence of the palace, with its thick woven tapestries and gleaming wood on the floors, and walls, and stairs. Gold, and silver, and brass framed the art, which oozed with royal exorbitance.
We moved through a room filled with marble statues and one with plates of china hanging on the walls. We passed through a large foyer with a grand staircase leading up to darkness and ducked behind the stairs to a long hallway illuminated by oil lamps.
Our footsteps echoed off the walls, and a chill seeped into my skin. Only thoughts that Cris had likely made this walk kept my feet moving. Castillo had likely trod this path many times as well. I’d be brave for them, even if my courage fled at the sight of the guarded do
or at the end of the hall.
My mind seized on everything anyone had ever told me about the High King of Nyth.
My father is not a kind man. Cris.
The High King has little patience. Castillo.
King Javier is a vain man. Matu.
The very palace seemed to hold its breath. Then the doors creaked open, and we entered the throne room.
“Welcome,” the High King said in a voice that reminded me of silk: Beautiful and flowing, but dressed up to hide something darker underneath. “Son, your wife has come.”
I searched for Cris, but not until he stood did I find him. He moved carefully, like it hurt to do so. His face appeared flushed in the dim lamplight, but the smile he wore buoyed my spirits. Terror gripped my heart and lingered in the back of my throat as I bowed before the High King.
When I looked up into his eyes, I gasped. They flamed like orbs, bright orange with vertical slits of black for the pupils.
Thirty-Six
The breath lodged in my throat burned with fury. In the depths of the High King’s eyes, I saw Castillo’s broken and bleeding body. I saw the ropy scars along Cris’s chest. I saw Lucia’s wide, unseeing eyes. Inside, that needling wicked magic stirred again, bringing evil thoughts to my mind and a tune to inflict pain to my vocal chords.
I silenced it before it could betray me, before the High King caught an inkling of what I truly thought of him.
“Your Excellency.” I masked the true emotion behind a quiver of fear that was entirely too real.
The High King blinked, a sticky and slow movement. When his eyes came open again, they’d normalized into deep pools of obsidian. His lips curled as I played to his vanities, and his eyes never left mine as he flicked his fingers for one of his servants to bring something forward.
What life must be like to simply lift two fingers and have someone come running with breakfast, or water, or a fabric the color of ripe tomato skins.