‘We don’t have time for this,’ I growl. ‘I’m going to the Lagoon and I’m going to find my brother. If you try to stop me I’ll freeze you where you stand. So, you have two options. You can either come with me, or stay here and make friends with the squirrels.’
Fox rolls his eyes as he bites back a smirk. ‘All right, you win.’
I nod curtly before snatching up various pots and potions from the pile still strewn across the forest floor.
‘Careful with those,’ he warns, taking a small jar of sage leaves from my hands. ‘I’ll do this. You ready Cedar.’
For the sake of time I don’t protest. I fumble with the reins while Fox meticulously packs up the rest of his supplies, slipping the last remaining vial into his pocket.
He crosses to me just as I’m finishing tacking up.
‘Blaze?’
My name sounds different on his lips. I like it more than I should.
‘What?’ I ask, without turning round.
‘I want you to know that I’m really sorry about this,’ Fox says, before clamping a hand over my mouth and nose.
Something strong and sharp-smelling fills my nostrils. I jerk my head and let out a muffled scream before inhaling even more vapour from whatever insidious ointment coats his palm.
What is he doing?
What is he doing?
I buck and writhe, my fingernails scratching frantically at his arms until my movements begin to grow slow and sluggish.
I stop fighting. My body turns limp.
But before I slip into unconsciousness, my gaze latches on to Fox’s, my eyes wide and wild and so full of betrayal that I hope he feels it in his bones.
41
Elva
There’s a spider on the ceiling above my head. I watch it scuttle about directionless for a while before it disappears through a small crack in the corner.
I’m lying on my back in my bunk, trying not to think about the empty bed beneath me. I hear the soft jangle of keys at the end of the hall and stifle a sigh. Matron has taken to performing nightly room checks to make sure all the serfs are accounted for.
Unsurprisingly, the attempt on the emperor’s life sent the Golden Palace into uproar. Although when I managed to sneak into Hal’s chambers later that night, he himself seemed far more concerned about my injuries than his own brush with death. I assured him that the scratches on my face were the work of the rather irritable cat down in the stables, and declined the vial of painkiller he offered, knowing that I deserved to feel the stinging remnants of Ingra’s fury.
In the days that followed there were no balls, banquets or gatherings of any kind. Courtiers took to walking thehallways in pairs, shooting distrustful glances at any passing serfs, Marina among them. Her hostility towards me has reached new heights, since she feels certain that, as both a serf and a spy, I must have known about the assassination. She’s right, of course, but with Ingra claiming to having acted alone there’s little Marina can do to prove otherwise.
Yet nobody could explain the sudden darkness that descended moments before the bolt was fired. There were even whispers of spirits and omens and divine intervention. When it became apparent that no other explanation was going to present itself, Cole – in his own words –humbly admittedto having extinguished every flame in the room after catching sight of a suspicious figure high up in the gallery. Naturally, he was showered with praise, and Ember granted him lands and a title. Nobody seemed to recallLord Colestaggering drunkenly into the ballroom an hour after he promised to escort Elaith.
Still, at least his taking the credit prevented any further investigation into the matter. The only person who knows what truly happened that night is Ingra. Now she’s shivering in a damp cell awaiting execution, and it’s all my fault.
I snap my eyes shut and breathe deeply as Matron pokes her head round the door. I wait until she’s gone, then wedge my fist in my mouth, and scream.
I never meant for this to happen. I didn’t save Hal to sacrifice Ingra. That was not supposed to be the price of his life. I only intended to stop her. At least the others, having quickly realized something had gone wrong, dispersed before anyone could catch them.
Last night Pip made the mistake of asking Matronwhether he could take some food to the dungeons for Ingra. I can still hear his whimpering sobs all the way from the Pit. I roll on to my side and clamp my hands over my ears to block them out. Self-loathing wraps itself round me and won’t let go. Ingra’s voice echoes in my head, her words as sharp as knives.
I don’t know who you are any more.
In truth, neither do I.
Am I the serf, slipping unnoticed through a world that is not her own? The spy, tangled up in lies and deception? The lover with her golden roses? The little girl afraid of her own shadow? Or the Mage, who used her magic to betray her friend?
