The words throw a blanket over my rising fears, but anxiety still fights for dominance.
For a few heartbeats, I inhale and exhale slowly. “How do you know how to sign?” I ask when I can breathe again without having to think about it.
“I said I’d keep your secrets, Garrick. I didn’t say I’d tell you mine.”
I glower at him and press my lips together to keep the hostility inside my head.
“We’re going to work on sparring tonight since your sacred princess-dressmaking-hands are free.”
I puff out my chest as I sign my spoken words: “Haven’t you heard? I’m leaving tomorrow after the Feast. I’m going back to Cluain Baile. You’re not obligated to teach me anything anymore.”
His brows disappear beneath the dark hair falling onto his face, the few silver strands standing out. “Then what do you have to lose with one last lesson before you leave?” He gestures to his face and goads me on. “Hit me.”
My lips tug down. He obviously hasn’t reported my deafness or my ailment to anyone, and he’s continued to go out of his way for these lessons. I’m certain he should be catching up on rest when not on duty; I don’t understand why he’s chosen to help me.
I exhale and get into a fighting stance like he’s shown me many times before. Then I go in for a strike.
My heart is still racing from my lesson with Kilkenny—I never imagined I would come to enjoy the inexplicable lessons. But now, bathed and dressed in fresh clothing, I’m buzzing with disquiet. My chamber feels awkward now that I’ve completed Carys’s dress. With the Feast not until tomorrow and my return to Cluain Baile quickly approaching, my mind is a nonstop tumble of what-ifs and the very real question of what now. My hands itch for something to do, so I fight to find a comfortable position in bed and dive into an epic adventure novel I borrowed from the library.
My door flies open and Carys strides in like a woman on a mission, her gold and raven tresses billowing out behind her, pale cheeks flushed, golden eyes ablaze. Behind her, Kilkenny gives me a semi-apologetic look. By the time I focus on Carys, she’s already said whatever she had to say and turns to walk back out of the room.
“No time to explain,” Kilkenny signs.
I flip the book over on the bed to save my page and get to my feet. Without the traction from my boots, I slip from the sudden shift in position and nearly fall over.
“Meet us at her room,”Kilkenny motions before taking off after Carys.
As quickly as I can, I lace on my boots before rushing after them. By the time I arrive at Carys’s quarters, she and Kilkenny are already inside. I freeze in the doorway.
Carys’s room looks as though it was in the path of a tempest. “Great Lierwen and Rhianu…” I mumble under my breath.
Except I must’ve spoken rather loudly because Kilkenny’s gaze snaps to mine and I step back. I take in the overturned chair, the sheets and drapes on the bare floor. The plush rug has been rolled back and stands upright against one of the posts of Carys’s bed. Stationery is strewn all over the floor and Lowri is shuffling pages back into order and placing them atop a disastrous desk. Ellynne stands near the fireplace, trying to talk Carys down as the princess paces endlessly.
Kilkenny approaches me. “You got through to her in the library somehow. Can you…?” He nods his head toward her.
Kilkenny steps aside as Carys suddenly rushes toward me, a wild look on her face. “Can you fix this shit pile excuse for a bedchamber?”
I blink, unsure of how to react.
“Godsdamned useless Grounder.” She throws up her hands and turns away from me.
Resentment constricts my throat, and I swallow tightly around it as Kilkenny fixes me with a look that saysbe calm. This is not the Carys I got to know yesterday in the library.
Volatile emotions, she’d mentioned. Emotion soup. “What do you want me to fix?” I blurt as she resumes pacing, her fingers speared into her hair.
She spins to me, her long hair flying behind her. “This mess.” I note the way her face contorts, the way her throat bobs and her chest heaves—the word snagging on a sob. In those two words, there’s so much anger, frustration, confusion… fear. She’s speaking of something deeper than the literal mess around us.
“Alright. Maybe we can start by putting up a force field.”
Kilkenny’s brows dip, as do Ellynne’s. Carys just stares indifferently at me, but she swipes her hand across an escaped tear on her cheek.
“You know, like Osha the Lightweaver?” I try again.
She continues to stare at me, but there’s a stillness to her now that wasn’t there a moment ago.
I turn to Kilkenny. “Do you mind if I maybe speak with Princess Carys alone?” What am I saying? My palms grow clammy at this possibility. I’ve handled meltdowns from Taig before, but he’s a tiny five-year-old and Carys is not only taller than I am, but intimidating too.
Kilkenny frowns, cautious. But he nods and turns to Ellynne and Lowri. He says something to them and they hurry out of the room, Kilkenny a little slower. Casting one last look over his shoulder, he closes the door behind himself.
