Again, I sigh. “Fine, lead me to it,” I order, then stop. “Wait here.” I turn and enter the wing again. Surprisingly, Elle is capable of moving, as she’s currently staring at me from the couch, novel discarded on the coffee table.
“What does he mean?” she asks. Her vocal chords sound like they were made of gravel.
“Come on,” I order. But it’s not really an order, if I’m being honest. This time, it’s more like a request. She could easily deny it, but she doesn’t. She stands, and I swear I see a flicker of that normal fire in her eyes, if only for a moment.
She doesn’t change out of her pajamas or put on shoes. I don’t object. Her silence has been a form of torture that I never expected, nor can I explain why. Not rationally, at least. Her fiery attitude had been a reminder of a boy long gone. One who fought against his parents and what he was destined to become. But her current silence reminds me of a boy hardened into a man who grew too tired of fighting.
Vicente doesn’t acknowledge her as we step from the wing, but I don’t miss the flash of disgust that flickers over his features.
“Lead us.”
Like a good boy, Vicente heeds my command and sets off down the stairs. Outside, he takes a right down the path that winds around the mountain. I hate this mountain. Well, maybe I just hate mountains in general. I much prefer the flat plane of home. The City of Sand. Regardless, we descend, until Vicente comes to a slow stop. He doesn’t need to explain what happened. This is the fourth time this week. This time, the blood displays the message on the mossy forest floor. Last time, it was on the marble stairs of the castle.
Every time, it spells the same thing.
THERE ARE TWO
Cora and I have puzzled over the message a dozen times, each of us drawing blanks for what it could mean. Every few days, the same message appears somewhere on the castle grounds. Every time, it’s written in fresh blood. And nobody has any idea who’s writing it.
Elle stands beside me as she stares at the message.
“What is this?” Her voice is monotone.
“We’re not sure.”
She surveys the scene in front of her. The sun peeks through the canopy of trees, shining down on the smooth slope of her nose, then to freckles the same color of her eyes.
I inhale sharply and wrench my gaze back to the scene in front of us.
“We just noticed it, Your Highness,” Vicente says, hands clasped behind his back as he watches me.
I glare at him. “It’s been dry for at least an hour, and you just noticed it?”
He shifts uneasily on his feet and refuses to meet my glare. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I withhold the sigh that I so desperately want to let loose. “I thought I told you to increase the patrols,” I say. My voice is low, and I don’t need to be a psychic to tell that my change in tone has Vicente feeling nervous now.
Another thing Mother and Father taught us—presentation is everything.
“We did, sir, but they missed the culprit again.”
I summon midnight flames and fire a ball at Vicent’s greasy head of hair. He ducks and I pull back before they collide with the ancient tree behind him. The last thing I need is a forest fire on my hands.
“It is your job, Vicente, to ensure they are doing theirs,” I hiss as I take slow, measured steps toward him.
He shrinks back toward the tree, helpless prey caught by the predator.
“Y-y-yes, Your Highness,” he stammers.
“Get to the bottom of this,” I spit before turning on my heels and leaving him to clean this mess up. I don’t need to turn to know Ellefollows behind me. I can sense her proximity. Ever since I put that damned necklace on her, she hasn’t left my mind.
Although she’s my prisoner, I can’t help but feel like she’s the one I can’t escape.
Chapter 18
MAE
Asmo’sback is rigid as he follows Barrett to the throne room. He’s barely spoken two words to me this morning. All he’s done is shove a bagel in his mouth and grunt in approval or dissent when I reviewed our talking points for our meeting with Torben and Artis.
