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“Quiet.” He places a finger over his lips, his eyes darting over my shoulder. “You’ll get us both caught.” Gripping my elbow tighter, he pulls me up the stairs. “Of course I knew who Agnar was. Why do you think I trusted him to keep you safe? The real question is, how did your father find out, and why did he take him prisoner?”
Veradin sneaks like I did, checking corners for guards before rounding them. I follow close behind as we pass silently down the halls. “Someone recognized Agnar at the tournament. A minstrel. Word must have gotten back to Father.”
He grunts, clearly unhappy. “I came as soon as I could. Perhaps I can convince the king to temper his actions. While we need the dragon egg, a full-blown war with Tirene will kill our citizens as quickly as the Withering and Hollow Ones will. Your father’s grief over Calla’s illness has made him desperate.”
I’m about to snap at my mentor that Tirene doesn’t have any dragon eggs when his words sink in. If Veradin confirmed my sister’s illness, then my father couldn’t have been lying simply to get me to cooperate. Still, she seemed so healthy when I last saw her. The healers must have been able to slow the progression.
Veradin pats my arm. “Don’t worry, Esmerelde. I’ll try to guide the king toward calmer actions.”
His answer isn’t particularly heartening. My father’s wasting time threatening Agnar when he could be focusing on finding out how to heal my sister, not to mention cure the Withering and get rid of the Hollow Ones. “He’s threatening to give Agnar the Hushing Sickness.”
He rolls his eyes, maybe for the first time in my life. “Really, child, how would he capture a Hollow One? How could your father possibly infect a specific person with the sickness?”
His response stills my tongue. He’s got a point.
“Wait.” Veradin faces me for the first time since we started climbing the stairs. “You asked me if I knew who Agnar was. Does that mean you didn’t know when you introduced him to me, even though you’d been traveling with him?”
Shame warms my cheeks. How could I have failed to ask even the most basic of questions of my travel companion?
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He sighs and pats my hand like he’s comforting a small child, then he pushes open the door to the palace’s ground floor, revealing wooden walls and flooring. “After everything you’ve been through, why don’t you get some rest? You’ll feel better in a few days.”
“But—” A sharp pain stabs my temples as a question forms on my tongue. Tiny white specs float in front of me while my vision begins to fade.
“It will keep, Esme. You don’t look well.” With a final nod, Veradin leaves me at the top of the stairs, in the hallway near the servants’ quarters and the kitchens. He spins around and heads back into the dungeon.
Leaning against the wall, I take slow, deep breaths and wait for my vision to clear. Once I can see well enough to walk like I’m sober and my head no longer feels like it’s about to split open, I hurry through the corridors and up to the third floor before anyone else catches me out and about.
I’d rather follow my mentor and demand answers, but I know Veradin. He’s done talking.
I move without thinking, heading down the familiar halls until I find myself in front of Calla’s quarters. Despite what I’ve been told, I need to see her for myself.
Her door is open, letting the air in and showing she’s open to visitors. Warm, inviting, cheery light spills into the hall.
I stop at the threshold and peek in.
Calla lounges on a blue chaise, a book in her hands. At first glance, she looks fine to me. Her evening clothes, different from her dinner attire, are crafted from layered silk in muted pink hues.
My chest tightens as I step inside the chamber. How was the golden child exposed to a Hollow One? Then another thought strikes me. Is my sister even aware that she’s sick?
A long blond lock slides over her shoulder as she glances up. Her eyes lack the spark of life they always held. “Well hello, Esme. Still dressing like a servant, I see.”
Buried beneath her snark, I glimpse a glimmer of affection. We may have been raised to lead two very different lives, but we’re still sisters. Twins, though no one would guess that by looking at us. We’d still move mountains for each other, and we both know it.
I peer down at the simple pants and tunic I threw on before leaving my room. It’s what I’m most comfortable in, and since I’ve been training as a Warden for years and haven’t attended many palace events, our father never cared how I dressed.
Not exactly what a princess should wear. Not something Calla would ever be caught dead in.
“Father said—” I cut myself off when I notice the dark circles under her eyes and the strain around her mouth.
My sister yawns and sets her book aside. “Oh, I’m sure he had plenty to rant and rave about. He always does. Can this conversation wait until tomorrow? I’m too tired to think straight.”
A ball of anxiety forms in the pit of my stomach. My vivacious, fun-loving sister is in her room before sunset, struggling to stay awake as she attempts to read a book. What’s happened to her in the last several weeks? When did she contract the Hush? How much time does she have before…
“Sure. I’ve had a long day too. I’ll see you in the morning.” As I shut her door and step out into the hall, an idea that’s been niggling the back of my mind starts to solidify.
Sorry, Calla. Our little chat might not happen tomorrow, after all.
Chapter Forty-Seven
