I lie awake for most of the night. I can still feel Victor's lips pressed against mine, and I can still see his sly grin peeking out from under his mask.
He stole my first kiss. He made me feel weak. He threatened the people I try not to care about. So why hasn't the whirlwind in my stomach faded yet?
Morwen brings me tea again this morning. "How are you, Nyx?"
I didn't wear the ring for too long last night, so sitting up is actually feasible. "I'm fine. What about you, Morwen?"
"Fine." Her tone is overly light. She's lying.
Patting the bed, I say, "Sit."
I expected her to resist, but she sinks into the mattress beside me with a sigh.
"Did something happen?" I ask.
She bites her lip and nods. It takes her a few moments to speak and, when she does, her voice trembles slightly. "My little sister is sick. I just received word this morning."
"Oh." I've gone through this before, and yet I'm not sure what to say to her. My parents had twins when I was eight, but neither survived infancy. Losing them was devastating, but losing my parents was so much worse.
Blinking back tears, Morwen whispers, "I don't know what to do. We can't afford a doctor or medicine..."
There is so much wrong with Itoria, but this is by far the worst. "Here." I climb off of the bed and slide my hand underneath, dragging out my bag of gold. Eamon's stolen money. It'll do more good in Morwen's hands, I think. I drop the heavy sack into her lap.
Her eyes widen and she stares up at me, copper eyebrows raised so high that they nearly disappear into her wavy hair. "I can't take this."
"The alternative is selling one of the duchess's gowns, and I think she'd kill you for that, whether she plans to wear it again or not."
Morwen shakes her head rapidly. "I would never."
"What else can you do, then?" I ask. "I won't be needing that gold, so you might as well take it."
"You don't know that."
I think of Victor's advance, still hidden under the loose floorboard in my room on Lockard Alley. That will last me a long time, and once I am allowed to join his cause, my hands will overflow with plenty. So if I can help Morwen now, I will. Preventing her from suffering the same way I have is better than hoarding that money like a noble.
"I know where to get more," I tell her. "It's not an issue for me." Challenging, yes, but not impossible. And there are so many people at this castle from whom I can steal without remorse. They keep their gold well hidden, but stealing their shadows and forcing them to spill their secrets shouldn't be too difficult. It's only the prince who has given me trouble thus far.
The tears fall, sliding down Morwen's cheeks like raindrops. Her neck bends as she stares down at the sack in her lap. "Thank you, Nyx. This could save her life."
"I hope it does." I have to swallow my regret at not being able to save my own family. If only they had become ill when I was older, when I had the means to help them. It's too late for them now, but Morwen's sister still has a chance. I won't let her fall victim to Itoria's misrule, not after all Morwen has done to help me.
Morwen leaves to tend to the duchess and I look through my wardrobe, searching for the perfect dress to wear. There are so many now, all discarded from the duchess and tailored by Morwen to suit me better. But there's only so much she can do with the plunging necklines and low backs of many of the gowns, so I choose one that could be considered "enticing" to someone like the Silver Prince. It's the color of ripe blackberries, lined with golden ribbon, and is far too revealing for my liking. It has pockets, so I slip the Immaterial Ring into one of them just in case. After a moment's consideration, I drop the glass vial into my other pocket. If all goes well with the prince, maybe I'll take his blood.
When I leave my room and run into Dustin, I realize that this dress can also attract unwanted attention. His eyes take in every inch of me, and it's enough to make my skin crawl. My curtsey in response to his bow is terribly forced; my joints feel as stiff as steel.
"Lady Nyx," he says with a smile that shows all of his teeth.
"Lord Dustin."
"I'm glad to have caught you alone. I wish to speak with you privately."
Thankful for the knife hidden beneath my skirt, I agree. "All right."
He leads me to the nearest window, where our angle allows a pillar to hide us from view of anyone approaching from the stairwell. I keep a few feet of distance between us. Though I'll use my knife if I have to, I don't want to reveal my skills in this place. Unfortunately, such an act would be more dangerous than helpful to me.
Dustin gazes at me, his head tilted slightly. Dappled sunlight glistens from his shiny forehead; I almost can't pull my eyes away. "You are very elusive, Nyx. Gone during the day, reserved at supper...is something wrong? Have the people here not treated you well?"
"They have been very kind." My limited interactions have been mostly pleasant. No one is particularly welcoming, but they are not outwardly disdainful either.
He frowns, unsatisfied. "Then where do you disappear to? I know you don't pass so many hours with the duchess."
"You must have noticed by now that I'm a rather private person." I can tell that he's suspicious, but of what I'm not sure.
"Don't tell me you've hidden in your room for so long."
"Does it matter where I go?" I clasp my hands behind my back, keeping my itching fingers from reaching for my knifeâor even the ring. What I want is an escape from this exchange. In Durnwall, I could turn and walk away from a conversation if ever I wanted to, but here a certain degree of decorum is required.
Dustin narrows his eyes. "You should be making the most of your time here. Not everyone of your status is gifted with such an opportunity."
Ah, yes. My status. "I appreciate your concern, Lord Dustin, but I can assure you that I am using my time as I see fit."
His hand shoots out, gripping my arm with unnecessary roughness. "You're playing a dangerous game, Nyx."
I resist the urge to laugh. With how little he knows about me, he has nothing besides vague suspicions to go off of. "And what game is that?"
"I know you're after the prince."
This fool doesn't know the half of it. "I barely speak to the prince."
His frown darkens, etching deep wrinkles into his skin. They remind me of a rumpled blanket. "He wouldn't have Cordelia, so don't delude yourself into thinking he'll have you. I can offer you so much more."
Yanking my arm out of his grasp, I ask, "Like what? You'll play second fiddle to the king for the rest of your life. Even someone of my status is not interested in that."
Dustin's face darkens like an overripe tomato. "I can tell that you have high aspirations, so let me give you a word of caution: remember your place."
"And you should remember yours." I take a step towards him, closing the gap that he has already narrowed. Lowering my voice to its most threatening timbre, I say, "Let me offer you a warning: touch me again, and you might find your fingers freed from the offending hand."
He splutters, startled. No intelligible words escape his lips.
I curtsey, then turn around and leave him behind. Dustin is perhaps the least intimidating person in this castle, despite his desperate attempts to posture himself as such. Even his interactions with Adrian display his true cowardice. He only has power due to his close relationship with the king. When the king dies, he will lose all sway he has over the prince.
Unsure of what to do with my day, I venture into the rose garden. The air is deliciously warm, and the bright sun kisses my skin. I squint through the summer haze, for once grateful that so much of my skin is exposedâI would die of heatstroke otherwise. Summer is my least favorite season, because the night hours are short and it's difficult to hide in the relentless light. And my usual clothes aren't exactly practical for the hot weather, either.
Shadows are stronger in the summer, too. Winter weakens everyone's resolve, and that is where I thrive.
When I hear voices approaching, I instinctively duck behind a large laurel tree carefully trimmed in a tapered spiral. As the voices come closer, I recognize one as belonging to the Silver Prince. Instead of putting on the Immaterial Ring, I take the risk of leaning to the side just enough to spy on him with one eye.
Adrian is taking a leisurely stroll through the garden, his guards lurking behind him. I'm surprised to see him out at this time of day; usually he's cooped up in the library, surrounded by books and papers.
Suddenly, a young child bolts out from behind a bush. He is looking over his shoulder, laughing, and not watching where he runs. As a result, he crashes into the prince and topples onto the ground. He stares up at Adrian, eyes widening to the size of a closed fist.
"Watch where you're going," Ingram snaps, taking a menacing step forward. "What is a commoner's child doing in the royal gardens, anyway?" His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, as though he plans to attack the young boy, who cowers beneath him.
"I'm sure we have all torn recklessly through a garden at some point in our youths," Adrian says, unperturbed. He kneels down beside the boy and asks, "No broken bones, I trust?"
The child's head bobs in a nod. "I-I'm sorry, Your Majesty."
An amused smile spreads over the prince's mouth. "My father is the majesty, young sir. Call me Adrian."
I thought it impossible, but the boy's eyes widen more. "Yes, Adrian."
The prince takes the boy's hand and stands up, helping him to his feet. "And what should I call you?"
"Farley."
"Well, Mr. Farley, I should caution you to watch where you step. Not everyone is as forgiving as my dear friend Ingram here."
Ingram glowers. "We are tasked with protecting you, Your Highnessâ"
Adrian raises a hand to silence him. "You wish to protect me from this four-foot menace? He doesn't even carry a weapon."
I bite back my laughter. The prince's actions are surprising, to say the least, and I can't deny that I'm a little impressed.
"Adrian," Ingram says harshly. "You need to watch your behavior."
"As do you."
They're interrupted by a man rushing through the garden, stopping in his tracks when he sees Farley standing before the prince. The little boy turns around and hurries to the man, wrapping both arms tightly around one of his legs.
The man straightens his worn clothes, takes his hat off, and bows. "Your HighnessâI'm so sorry. My son ran away while I was pruning the rosebushes."
"No need to apologize, Willard," Adrian says, folding his hands behind his back. "Farley is welcome in the gardens whenever he wishes to visit."
One of the other guards, Floyd, whispers, "Your Highness, be aware that His Majesty may not approve."
Turning his head to address the guard, Adrian says, "His Majesty may take it up with me if he has any objections."
Willard bows so low that his nose almost touches the ground. "Thank you, Your Highness. From both of us." He nudges Farley, who bows as well. Then they back away, disappearing into the garden once more.
Silently, I steal along the path the prince begins to walk again, hidden behind trees and bushes, until I burst through a dense shrub and collapse onto a marble bench shaded by a blue wisteria tree, its branches heavily laden with flowers. As I wait for the prince to arrive, I pretend to admire the tree that almost cages me. It is truly beautiful, with its delicate blooms cascading like waterfalls, some dripping almost all the way down to the cobblestone walkway.
Adrian appears barely two minutes later. I stand as he approaches, curtseying as a greeting.
He bows stiffly and says, "Good morning, Lady Nyx." Then he takes a step, about to continue on his way.
"Wait." I swallow thickly, suppressing my pride. "I was hoping to find you here, Adrian. I want to apologize."
He raises one eyebrow, a cocky grin playing on his lips. "Oh?"
"I spoke out of turn." These words are immensely difficult to force out. "I...I'm sorry."
Adrian laughs. "I think this apology is more painful for me than it is for you."
"What?"
"Sit with me, Nyx." He ducks under the long wisteria branches and sits down on the bench half-hidden underneath. I join him, grateful for the coolness of the marble seeping through my dress. Embarrassment has heated my body more than the sun, and I need this respiteâthough being with the prince is as discomfiting as usual.
"You weren't entirely out of line," he admits. His gray eyes have a bluish tint now that they are surrounded by the wisteria blossoms. "My father is most definitely hiding something, but I can't be sure of what."
I wish I could tell him. I wish I could inflict upon him the same suffering that I lived through five years ago. His father deserves this painful demise, and Adrian deserves to watch.
Then a pang of sympathy hits me. Today I saw a kind side to him, a forgiving side. What if he's not quite as shallow as I once believed?
"He no longer attends supper," I say. "Though he appears healthy, I think he must simply be a good actor."
"Any king should be, I suppose." Adrian's eyes meet mine, and I marvel at the color of his. They are as multifaceted as cut gemstones.
"Are you?"
"I'd like to think so."
I have to look away from him, so I focus on the flowers instead. "I wanted to make my apology last night, but you disappeared after supper."
He nods. "I had some other matters to attend to."
Whether he is a good actor or not is irrelevant; even if I didn't know that he visited a brothel last night, I would know that he was simply wasting his time on imprudence. It's in his nature.
"But you believe my father to be gravely ill," Adrian says.
I hesitate. Is it tipping my hand too much, to answer honestly? Yet I feel he should be prepared for the imminence of his father's death. "Yes."
"I'll have to speak to him then, I suppose."
That went so well for him last time. "It would be wise to do so."
When next he speaks, I can hear the same suspicion that clouded his voice when we were in the clearing. "How do you know this, though? I can't see my father entrusting the duchess with such information...let alone you."
I face him again. "I know illness, Adrian. Have you already forgotten how my parents died?"
He blinks. I am transfixed by his long eyelashes, which, like his brows, are much darker than his hair. "No. I haven't forgotten."
The strange sympathy grows, replacing some of my hatred. Losing them was an experience that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I wouldn't even wish it upon Adrian, I think. "We have such little time with those we love."
"Yes...such little time," he murmurs. "My father is not as bad a man as you think, Nyx."
I stare at him, wondering how he figured that out. "I don'tâ"
"Many Itorians have a low opinion of him," Adrian says quietly. I think he keeps his voice down in the hopes that his guards won't hear, though I know that they listen to his every word and watch his every move. "However, they have never seen what he's like behind closed doors. He used to let me play or read in his study while he worked, and we would chase one another around this garden in my youth." The wistful smile that has grown over his face quickly gives way to a stonier expression. "I suppose I bear some responsibility for how he's been acting lately."
I watch his full lips as they move. They are the color of wine, a stark contrast to the paleness of his face, and with him so close I can smell the matching alcohol on his breath. I wonder if this lingers from last night, or if he's been drinking this morning as well. Neither would surprise me, but for his own sake, I hope the former is true and not the latter.
"Surely not," I say, feeling an inexplicable wave of compassion for him wash over me. Between him and his father, there is more hurt than I realized.
"You're leaving soon," says Adrian, abruptly shifting the subject. "I shouldn't concern you with any of this."
"Two weeks isn't soon." Somehow, it feels like an eternity. And yet, I can take a deep breath and find that my time is up the moment I release it from my lungs.
"Perhaps not in your eyes. But when you leave, this castle will be dull without your beauty."
His words make me sick to my stomach, not because I wish he didn't have this opinion, but because I don't believe him.
"You shouldn't say things like that," I mumble, forgetting that I'm supposed to be seducing him.
"Why not?" He smirks. The curve of his lips is sinful. "Are you still frightened of me, Lady Nyx?"
"No." This time my voice is soft, insubstantial as smoke.
Adrian leans towards me. My heart pounds so that I wonder if it will burst from my chest. He reaches past me and plucks a stem of several flowers from the wisteria tree, then tucks it behind my ear. His fingers are cool against my hot skin, and to my own horror I find myself wishing that they would linger. But he pulls back and stands, bowing almost as low as Willard bowed to him.
"I'll see you at supper." With a wink, he adds, "I hope you wear those flowers."