“I don’t know what you were,” I admitted. “That’s what I’m trying to understand. Why thou bears its marks on thou’s shoulder. Why thou defends it even now.”
Her hand flew to her shoulder, fingers pressing against the fabric of her robe as if to hide what lay beneath. The bite mark. The claiming. I’d seen it when the healers examined her, a perfect crescent of teeth too large to be human but arranged with too much purpose to be animal creating three rings. A brand of ownership that turned my stomach even as it fascinated me.
“Thou dost not know anything about it,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Abouthim.”
“Then tell me,” I urged, dropping to one knee before her so our eyes were level. Close enough now to see the flecks of gold in those amber irises, to count each freckle scattered across her nose like constellations. “Help me understand, Isabeau.”
Something flickered in her gaze. Longing, perhaps, or the desire to unburden herself. For a moment, I thought she might actually open up to me. Then the wall came down again, her expression smoothing into careful neutrality.
“There’s nothing to understand,” she said. “I simply need to go back.”
Frustration surged through me, hot and sharp. “Back to what? To whom? Give me one good reason why I should let you return to that place of darkness.”
“Because they need me.” The words escaped her like they’d been torn from deep inside, raw and honest in a way nothing else had been. Immediately, I saw regret flash across her face, as if she’d revealed too much.
“They?” I seized on the word. “There’s more than one?”
She looked away, lips pressed together, refusing to elaborate.
“Isabeau.” I took her hands in mine, feeling the delicate bones beneath paper-thin skin. “Whatever hold these creatures have on you, it isn’t real. It’s the forest’s corruption, working its way into your mind. Making you believe things that aren’t true.”
“You know nothing about it,” she repeated, but there was less conviction now, a weariness creeping into her voice.
“I know about Stockholm syndrome,” I said gently. “About captives developing attachments to their captors as a survival mechanism. It’s not your fault.”
Her laugh was bitter, lacking any real humor. “Is that what you think this is? That I’m too weak-minded to know the difference between captivity and... and something else?”
“I think you survived something terrible,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “And that your mind found ways to make it bearable. But you’re safe now. You don’t need those coping mechanisms anymore.”
“Your majesty appears to be wrong.” She pulled her hands from mine. “So wrong it would be funny if it weren’t so tragic.”
The familiar pattern was establishing itself again. Her cryptic half-answers. My growing frustration. The wall between us that neither seemed able to breach. But something was different today. She’d revealed more than she intended with that slip about “they.” Multiple creatures? Multiple captors? The idea made my blood run cold.
“The forest is spreading,” I said, changing tactics. “The corruption has grown stronger the last few months, pushing against our boundaries. Whatever lives in that castle, whatever kept thee there, it’s part of that darkness.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, but I caught the uncertainty in her eyes. “The castle isn’t... it’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?” I pressed. “A sanctuary? A prison? Both?”
She hesitated, clearly wrestling with how much to reveal. “It’s complicated.”
“Life usually is.” I stood, pacing the room as thoughts raced through my mind. “My sister disappeared eleven years ago. Did you know that?”
The abrupt change of subject caught her off guard. “No.”
“Odette was sixteen. Beautiful, like you. Amber eyes, like yours.” I paused, watching her reaction carefully. “She vanished without a trace during her summer stay with our mother’s closest freind. Some said she ran away with a lover. Others whispered of witchcraft, of forest beasts that stole maidens in the night.”
Isabeau’s expression gave nothing away, but her knuckles whitened where she gripped the edge of the window seat. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’ve spent eleven years looking for her,” I said simply. “Becoming the hunter I needed to be to track her through wilderness and darkness. And when my dreams led me to that castle, to thee, I thought perhaps...”
“I’m not your sister,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “But you might have answers. About the forest. About what lives there. About what happened to her.”
“I don’t.” She looked away, but not before I caught a flicker of something in her eyes. Not quite a lie, but not the full truth either.
“You’re protecting them,” I said, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. “These creatures. These beasts. You’re loyal to them even after everything they did to you.”
