Part of me considers ignoring Adrian's note, but a largerâand insatiableâpart doggedly convinces me to go. The fact that a large gathering for those wishing to mourn for Dustin will take place today is likely part of it. I think both Adrian and I want to avoid any display of contrition for his death.
Knowing that the duchess will want me to attend, I slip out of the room unnoticed while she's lecturing Morwen on how to fix her hair and arrange her black mourning veil.
Just like our last ride, I find Adrian waiting at the stables at exactly nine in the morning. Hector is already saddled, as is Burr. The dappled mare stamps impatiently, but calms when Adrian feeds her a small red fruit from a cloth sack he's holding.
I hope to avoid speaking of our kiss, so I ask, "Is that how you won her over?"
He turns towards me, lips curled in a mild smirk. "Yes. She's very fond of strawberries." He puts the sack of fruit into one of Burr's saddlebags.
"We have one thing in common, then."
"Two. You both share a similarly ill-tempered disposition."
I remember my short-lived attempt to behave sweetly towards him when we first met. An impossible feat, thanks to his churlishness. Though I can't dismiss the softness of his kiss, completely at odds with the rest of his temperament.
Carefully, I climb onto Burr's back. She tosses her head and nickers, but seems willing enough to carry me.
Adrian mounts Hector smoothly and immediately takes off. I spur Burr to life and follow. For the first few minutes of our ride, I am racing to catch up to the princeâbut, once he slows, I overtake him. Amused, I glance over my shoulder with a pointedly gloating smile, but my satisfaction dies when I see how stiffly he sits in the saddle and the way his jaw is clenched as though biting back pain. Somehow, I had forgotten about his wounds.
I tug on Burr's reins, slowing her to a walk. Adrian follows suit.
"Are you hurt?" I ask.
"No."
"Was it not a mere two weeks ago that you were trying to outrun me?"
"Hector is tired today, I think."
And he had the nerve to ask me for the truth. "You shouldn't have asked me to ride if you weren't feeling up to it."
Adrian shakes his head. "I need to speak to you, and I'm sure you won't allow yourself to be lured into my bedchamber a second time."
I hate how he makes it sound as though something greater than a kiss transpired between us. Everything about him infuriates me, from his immaculate clothes to his smug attitude even in the face of great affliction. He's like an animal, hiding his wounds. I wonder if he sees himself as a rabbit and I the fox, waiting to pounce upon him and tear him apart if he offers me even the smallest opportunity.
By the gods, I hope he fears me. I hope the way I struck him yesterday cut down to his frigid heart. I'm glad he knows that I despise him. And, no matter what, I will tear him apart.
"You were correct," I say. "I will not be so incautious again."
He falls silent. As we continue, the only sounds are the dull thuds of the horse's hooves falling upon the soft grass of the woods. The sun peeks through the curtain of trees, casting sunlight over us at varied intervals. The warm air makes my skin slightly damp with sweat, but it's not entirely unpleasant. I feel enlivened by it; invigorated. The past two days have been particularly difficult to struggle through, but I believe the fresh air is doing me good. It's nice to get away from the castle, even if the departure lasts only a few hours.
Adrian brings us to the same clearing we rode to last time and dismounts Hector. I do the same, and we both pass our reins to his guards. Adrian leads me to the glittering stream's edge, and I kneel down to splash some cold water on my face. The refreshing sensation makes me feel like I can handle whatever accusations the prince wishes to level at me today.
He watches me as I stand, his face maddeningly inscrutable.
"Well?" I ask impatiently. "You have me here. Say what you will."
"Is there any respite from your hatred?" His voice is soft.
I'm not sure how to answer, so I settle for the truth. "No." While I have seen a good side to him, there are some things that I don't believe can change. Perhaps he isn't directly responsible for the dire state of Durnwall, but he is still a man that strings women alongâintentionally or otherwiseâand was rude to me as often as he was kind. I can't trust him, so it's much easier to shield myself with hatred.
"Fine," he sighs. "I know that I offended you yesterday, and I wish to explain myself. If it only makes you despise me more, so be it. I cannot rightly ask for the truth from you if I refuse to give it first."
I cross my arms, ready to argue tooth and nail against whatever he accuses me of. "Go ahead, then."
Adrian's eyes bore into mine with a heated intensity that rivals the sunbeams that surround us. "He told me that you spent several nights with him, and the duchess mentioned that she often didn't see you after supper."
Foolish woman. Was she truly the best that Victor could find?
"I have no right to be envious," the prince continues, "but though we've only known each other for a short time, I do enjoy the sparse moments we've shared."
For once, his words aren't meant to goad me, but they do nevertheless. "You believed him?" I snap. "You truly thought that I would give myself up to a man like that?"
My words make his expression change instantly. It darkens like the sun when shadowed by a cloud. "What would you expect me to believe?"
"You're correct: you have no right to be envious. Nothing I do should matter to you."
"It matters because I know what sort of man Dustin is."
"And what sort of man are you? Sanctimonious bastard."
He scowls. "You're as coarse as the feeding-sacks that clothed you in childhood."
I shouldn't have spared his shadow. "If I am so far beneath you, why do you care what I do?"
The way he stares at me, with a strange mix of anger and disquietude, makes me wonder. It looks as though there are words lingering on his tongue, words that he is either frightened or unwilling to say.
"Speak," I tell him. "This is your last chance." Commanding him is satisfying beyond belief. When I finally manage to take his shadow, I may be tempted to keep it for myself.
"There is something between us," he murmurs reluctantly, reaching out to grasp my hand. "You can hardly deny it, Nyx."
I snatch my hand away. A familiar feeling swirls inside of meâthe same heart-pounding, head-aching sensation that floods my consciousness whenever I find myself in a life-or-death situation. It's the same feeling that brought me to the decision to kill Lord Dustin. Now, it tells me that the only thing I can do is run.
"Enough." I turn away from the prince and climb onto Burr's back, snatching the reins from Floyd's unresisting hands.
"Nyx, wait," Adrian calls. "I bid you to stay."
I ignore him and goad Burr into a gallop, knowing that he won't be able to ride fast enough to catch me. Instead of returning to the castle, I take Burr through the forest on the outskirts of Durnwall, then bring her back to Lockard Alley.
Blythe is standing just outside the back of her building, smoking a crooked pipe. Her mouth drops open when she sees me, causing the pipe to fall and splash into a mud-filled pothole.
"Nyx?" she gasps. "Is that you?"
I dismount and tie the reins to the same broken lamppost as last time. "It's me, Blythe."
She rushes over and grabs my shoulders, forcing me to face her. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing." I pull away, ignoring the guilty tug in my stomach, and reach into Burr's saddlebag, withdrawing a few strawberries to feed her. Her damp lips tickle my palm as she eats them and her blunt teeth scrape against my skin once she's finished, searching for more. I wipe my hand on my pants and stride past Blythe and inside the building.
She follows me upstairs. "Where have you been? Why are you dressed like that? What's the matter with you?"
Each inquiry feels like another knife slamming into my body. I can't stand to face her. "All I can tell you is that there's nothing wrong with me."
"Look at me, Nyx," she snaps.
Her tone is so forceful that I turn around just as I reach my bedroom door. Some of Blythe's hair has come loose from her curlers, and her wrinkled mouth is pulled into an exaggerated frown. Though I know she's a harmless old lady, her current state makes her look rather intimidating. She's never spoken to me so harshly.
"It's time to stop running."
I stare at her in silence for a moment. "I'm not running."
Blythe shakes her head. "Listen, girl. I know better than to waste my breath on more questions that you won't answer. But I can see the doubt in your eyes and the sweat on your brow, and I can tell that you're running from something."
The concern in her face feels like a knife through my heart. If only she knew what danger her mere association with me is putting her in. "You're wrong."
"If you need helpâ"
"I don't!" I shout. Irritation churns inside of me like water bubbling in a cauldron. "Back off, Blythe."
"Fine," she mumbles, turning away. Under her breath, she adds, "This is why you're on your own."
It's none of her business. My hands shake with anger as I unlock my door and enter my room. As quickly as possible, I take off Ethel's riding habit and put on my normal clothes. Then I transfer the vial of blood and the Immaterial Ring into my pockets.
When I exit through the back door, Blythe is nowhere to be seen, but her pipe is still lying in the mud puddle. I pick it up with a sigh and bring it back into the house, leaving it on the small table in the entryway. Then I walk to Delbury Lane at as fast a pace as I can without looking suspicious.
The Compendium greets me with its dusty windows and barely legible sign. I enter to find Aliza Baxter behind her desk, her clouded eyes seeming to stare straight through me.
"Good morning," I say, glancing around the cluttered store to ensure that I am its only patron.
"So you've returned, and with one day to spare." Her raspy voice is like two stones being ground against one another.
"I took heed of your warning." Even now, I don't want to find out what this woman would have done to me, had I brought my payment too late. Despite her age and apparent frailty, I can tell that she is a person who is capable of making my life extremely difficult.
"And are you still yourself?" she asks.
I freeze before the word "yes" can escape my lips. The truth is, I have not felt like myself in some time. Lately, I have felt infuriatingly weak and frustratingly ineptâa stark contrast to my usual prowess. In the castle, the one time I have truly felt like the Shadow Thief is when I killed Dustin, and even that was uncharacteristic of me. I have never killed before, and his final screams still haunt meâthough I don't regret my actions.
But I attribute none of my own unfamiliarity to the ring. It's almost certainly Adrian's fault, for being so impossible to read. And I can't stand the way he makes me feel. Around him, I falter. He has marred my abilities. At least I know the effect is not permanent, however, as I was able to defeat Dustin. Though it's still Adrian who I ultimately need to conquer.
"I thought not," Aliza murmurs. She gazes at me through milky eyes. "Well, pay up, girl."
I hand over the glass vial, eager to be rid of this last trace of Dustin. "How do I regain myself?"
Aliza doesn't answer. She holds the vial up to the light, admiring the glittering blood inside. Doubtless, she is already planning the spells or tinctures she can create with the potent liquid. "Royal blood, begotten through ferity. It's even better than I hoped."
"Ms. Baxter," I say firmly. "Please tell me how to regain myself."
Her blank eyes flick to me. "Fear will follow you like a shadow if you don't confront it."
A chill runs down my spine, trailing from my neck to my tailbone like a raindrop. "Please."
"What are you so afraid of?"
I fear nothing. That's what makes me so good at disenthrallment. I have already confronted all of my fears, and I have lived through each one. If I couldn't walk through to the other side, I crawled. If I couldn't crawl, I inched. And now, by my own efforts, I am stronger than ever.
But I think Adrian has made me come undone. If I couldn't steal his shadow, what am I?
"Losing my potential," I say.
Aliza laughs. "You won't find yourself again until you vanquish your shadows. Be brave, girl. You are the very ocean that swallows you whole."
I frown. "What?" How could she possibly know exactly how I feel?
"Now, get out of my shop," she says in a coarse voice. "I have business to attend to."
Knowing that there is nothing more to learn from her, I leave.
Blythe is nowhere to be seen when I reach her building on Lockard Alley. I change back into Ethel's riding clothes, reclaim Burr, andâafter feeding her a few more berriesâride back to the castle.
Hector is already in the stable, as are the guards' horses. I pass Burr's reins to the grooms after feeding her the last of the strawberries. The fruit seems to calm her, and I wonder how Adrian discovered this secret. He must have spent a good amount of time here, learning how to ride her. For some reason, this realization reminds me of Adrian's interaction with Farley, the servant Willard's son. In both situations, I see empathy.
Ethel is furious, immediately berating me the moment I walk into her room. She is as stunning as ever in her black silk gown and lace veil. From the redness in her eyes, I can tell that she's been crying. My only question is whether those tears were genuine or forced.
"Do you know how it looks for my so-called niece to not attend Dustin's grieving ceremony?" she demands. "I had to tell everyone that you were too distraught to attend."
"And you told the prince that you didn't see me after supper for several nights?" I retort. "Do you know how damaging that is to my mission? Now he's suspicious of me."
Ethel's pale face goes even whiter, blanching until it's the same color as the cream she pours in her tea. "Is he?"
I nod. "Yes. And he believes that there was some sort of romantic connection between Dustin and me."
She scoffs. "Well, it was quite obvious to everyone that he had a passing interest in you. The only thing no one was certain of was whether the attraction was reciprocated."
The mere thought disgusts me. "It most certainly was not."
"Don't be upset, Nyx. How were any of us supposed to know?"
Glowering, I say, "I hope I've cleared everything up, then."
With an exhausted sigh, Ethel says, "Go change for supper."
I do as she says, putting on the black gown that I first wore when spying on the prince in the garden. I am blissfully ignored at supper, where everyone is clothed in their finest black. Despite the solemnity, there's an undeniable vanity that affects the atmosphere. Everyone is dressed in the appropriate color, but their clothes and accessories are as elaborate as usual. Ribbons, frills, brocades, and lavish jewelry worth more than enough to fill the bellies of every citizen of Durnwall crowd the room, making the large space seem much smaller than it truly is.
What's worse, however, are the toasts. The nobles take turns singing Dustin's praises. One lord speaks of how skilled the man was with a sword, and a baroness applauds his sense of fashion. Even the duchess stands to cry over the loss of a loyal friend. None of it feels genuine.
And neither the king nor his son is present.