As I continue to stare, my mind makes alterations, and for a moment I don’t see smooth golden perfection but a skeletal frame, hollow cheeks, trembling hands and dark bruise-like shadows lingering beneath the eyes, so similar to …
I drag in a breath. Could there be a connection between the emperor’s peculiar affliction and Hal’s own condition? What if the physicians can’t tell what’s wrong with him because he’s not suffering from some common illness, but from something … hereditary?
‘Hello, girl.’
I lurch with fright as a rasping voice sounds startlingly close.
Slowly, I turn, willing my shadows to remain hidden. But all I see is a statue. This one is smaller than Emperor Alvar’s, the subject’s mouth twisted into a crooked smile. Something about him makes my skin turn cold, the same way it did when I touched that crystal decanter – a numbing, bone-deep kind of dread.
The old man who steps out from behind the statue is dressed in plain golden robes that trail behind him on the ground. His shoulders are stooped, hunched forward with age, and his hands are tucked into a pair of delicate gloves. The skin on his face sags loosely, almost as pale as the wispy white beard stretching down to his navel.
Realization turns my insides to ice.
For I am looking into the beady black eyes of Caius Castellion.
He inclines his head pleasantly before glancing round at the statue behind him. ‘A good likeness, wouldn’t you say? I was younger then, of course. Barely entering my prime.’
I stare at him, wide-eyed and terrified. This man conquered my homeland and enslaved my people. He is amonster. Nobody’s seen him since the Binding Ceremony. What is hedoing here? And what answer will I give if he asks me the same question?
His mouth curves into a mirror image of the smile adorning his statue, as though he can hear the cogs of my brain ticking and whirring and is amused by it.
Fear prickles down the back of my neck, sweat dewing on my brow. Before I can clamp down on them, my shadows spring forth to defend me.
No.
I stumble backwards, colliding with another statue.
Caius Castellion looks neither shocked nor scared nor outraged. He just continues to smile pleasantly, utterly unfazed by the darkness swarming around me.
I wonder briefly about his eyesight, then his mental faculties. I consider whether to make a break for it. It’s not like he’d be able to catch me. But what if he were to tell someone about this? What if he were to tellHal? He is his grandfather, after all.
The old man sighs. ‘Don’t be afraid, girl. I mean you no harm.’
Surprise slices through fear, and my shadows begin to melt away. He can’t be serious. This is the emperor who sought to eradicate the Magi, who revelled in the loss of their magic. Why does he look so calm? And why is hesmilingat me?
‘Come now,’ he says dismissively. ‘If I was planning on killing you, I would have done it the second your powers were returned to you, if not before. Or, if I’d wanted to avoid this scenario altogether, I could have just killedher. Kind of you, to bandage her cut hand. Kindness that was rewarded in ways neither of you could’ve imagined.’
I shake my head slowly, perplexed.
‘But I digress,’ the old man continues. ‘Reports of Haldyn’s ill health have reached far and wide. It is for my grandson that I have returned, not to murder the girl he loves.’
My insides turn from ice to stone. The game is up. He knows. Heknows. Buthow?
I blink, trying to clear my head. ‘I … I don’t … understand.’
‘No,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘I should imagine not.’
‘How … how do you …’
‘I could wait for you to stumble to the end of your sentence, but it seems unnecessary, for the answer would be the same. I know many things.’ He presses the tips of his gloved fingers together, thumbs forming an arch. ‘I once thought I knew everything, but it seems I was wrong. The future is not a fixed entity. It twists and alters every passing day. Just as I’m beginning to see it clearly,shedoes something to change its mind. For she is the key, and keys unlock many doors, each of them leading to myriad different fates, infinite possibilities – some good, some bad, some catastrophic, but all equally plausible.’
I stare blankly at him. This man speaks in riddles. ‘You … you said you came back for Hal,’ I stutter. ‘Do you know what’s wrong with him?’
He ignores me. ‘Shall I tell you a story, girl?’
My voice is breathless. ‘Please, if you could just –’
He cuts me off. ‘Are you familiar withThe Tragedy of Emmeric and Irabella?’
