I thank Elodie again and retreat into my rooms, where I collapse on the bed and scream into the pillows. How am I ever supposed to avenge my sister and liberate my country when I’m surrounded by murderers, liars, and bumbling fools on every side?
Be patient, play their games, Ro says, but I amnotin the mood for her advice.
“What aboutyourgames?” I fire back. “How much longer do I have to play those before you tell me what you were doing? And why nothing is as you described in your letters? I don’t even recognize you here.”
I stare into the glittering shadows, seething with hurt and frustration while I wait for Rowenna to speak.
But she doesn’t answer.
BecauseIdon’t have the answers.
I’m just a brokenhearted girl, talking to a ghost.
***
I must have finally succumbed to exhaustion, because I wake face down on the bed with drool dribbling from my lips and my hair plastered against my face. For a single disorienting second, I think I’m back in my bedchamber under the hill, but then blinding light from the geode wall stabs me in the eyes, reminding me exactly where I am.
I roll over with a groan and cover my face with my hands. And that’s when I hear it—the sound that must have woken me: the rattle of dishes and the gentle squeak of wheels.
Someone is leaving food outside my chamber door.
Most likely my maid, who I haven’t seen since I discovered her horrid little room.
I scramble off the bed and fly across my chamber. “Wait!” I call as I fling the door wide. “I just want to speak with you.” But a flash of her white black skirt and a whip of her golden braid are all I see as she careens around the corner, the cart rattling like a runaway wagon.
I leap over the plate of food she left and take off after her, quickly closing the distance. My legs may be sore from the climb up the mountain, but she’s burdened with that cart—which is probably why she abandons it in the middle of the hall.
As soon as I round the corner, I slam into the metal contraption. It crashes onto its side. I fall with it, landing amid shattering plates and clanking forks. It feels like a perfect depiction of my time in Vanzador—painful, frustrating, and beyond embarrassing.
“Please,” I before the girl escapes down a winding flight of stairs. “I’m not going to punish you for the carvings. I just want to know what they mean—why you’d carve such awful words?”
My maid doesn’t slow.
“My sister was my best friend,” I choke out. “But the more I learn about her time here, the more confused and helpless I feel. I just…miss her.”
My voice is so soft and shattered, there’s no way the girl heard. She’sprobably already several floors below. But when I glance up, she’s still standing there, considering me as she heaves for breath.
“If I tell you what happened, will you leave me alone?” she finally asks.
I nod as I wipe my nose on the sleeve of my dress.
After another long silence, she says, “I didn’twantto carve those things. Your sisterliterallyforced me. She curled my fingers around a knife, jabbed another against my throat, and shouted threats until I was willing to do anything to get away from her. But in all the ways that matter, my hands are clean.”
She holds up her hands, but I’m already shaking my head. “You’re lying!”
The girl laughs bitterly. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Then she flies down the staircase, disappearing into the shadows of the palace.
I thump down hard on the landing to catch my breath, but the longer I stare down the empty stairwell, the more I wonder ifI’mthe one lying to myself.
I’ve heard several unbelievable stories about Rowenna’s time here, and the others turned out to be true. What if this is another?
Are you really going to believe a random servant over me?Rowenna demands.Why would I carve threats against myself? It doesn’t make sense.
That’s the problem.Nothingabout her time on the mountain makes sense. Why would she drink bagrava tea and reveal her precious memories to one of Soren’s councilors? Why would she send me letters full of falsehoods about Vanzador and act completely out of character?
You shouldn’t have to betray the core of who you are in order to uncover your enemy’s weaknesses.
Rowenna’s laughter feels like an ice-cold draft against my cheek. It’s sweet that you believe that.A testament to how well I sheltered you. Perhaps a littletoowell.
