A Wicked Thing (18 page)

“He can, and he will. What do you think he'll do to you if he sees you here too?”

“He won't hurt me,” she said. “He needs me.”

“So much that he wouldn't take the chance to get rid of you?
Don't be stupid, Aurora. Think.”

“I am not stupid.” She wrenched her arm away and spun to face him. “He's going to kill them, Finnegan. Innocent people.”

“He was going to kill them anyway, if they're locked down here.” Finnegan's voice was low and steady. “You know he was.” He shook his head. “Let's get out of here, before it gets any worse. If they see us . . .”

“We can't just leave.”

“We have to. There is nothing you can do.” He pulled her arm, dragging her farther into the shadows, until they stumbled against the stairs.

She shoved him backward, letting her anger, her disgust, snap through her arms. “Why did you bring me here?” she said. “Why, if there was nothing we could do?”

“Because I wanted you to know,” Finnegan said. “I wanted you to see for yourself.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making the black waves stand on end. The movement made him look suddenly vulnerable. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't realize that was going to happen.”

He sounded so genuine that Aurora paused. “It would have happened whether we saw it or not,” she said. “But leaving without helping—”

Finnegan brushed a hand across her shoulder. “You can't help,” he said. “Not now. We need to go before they find you missing, or things will get a lot worse.”

As they climbed the stairs, Aurora imagined she could still
hear swords ringing in the distance. Hear the shouts of helpless prisoners as metal slashed across their throats.

Finnegan walked her back to her room. “Are you all right?” he asked as she reached for the doorknob. His hand lingered on her shoulder.

“No,” she said. The word scratched her throat. “I don't think I should be.”

Finnegan nodded. “I'm here for you,” he said.

“You're here for my throne.”

“No.” His grip tightened. “I'm here for you.” He leaned closer, and Aurora froze. He was going to kiss her. His lips brushed against her cheekbone. Her skin burned where he had touched. Aurora fought the urge to tilt her head, to slip her lips closer to his. She had already had one ill-advised kiss in the past few weeks, and she hated Finnegan. She hated him. Yet the hatred was a rush of warmth against the horror of what she had seen, and she did not want to move away.

Finnegan's nose trailed along hers, and then he stepped back, no trace of a smile on his face. “Remember what I said.”

Aurora pushed the door open and stepped back into the room. He was too close, but suddenly, she did not want him to go. She did not want to be left alone.

“I'll lock the door behind you,” Finnegan said. She nodded. The door closed, and she was alone.

Several floors below her, people were dying. They were dying, murdered in their cells, while she stood in her bedroom,
safe, cold, a world away from it all. She could almost see the blood, red on stone, splattered on skin. But there was nothing she could do.

She strode across the room and poured herself a glass of water. Her wrist shook, water splashing over the edge of the glass. She stared at her hand. It seemed to belong to somebody else, too pale, moving of its own accord. And she remembered the queen, sitting in this room, her hand shaking around the same glass, because Aurora had disobeyed her, because she had put everything at risk.

Aurora slammed the glass down on the table. Her hand still shook.

Had Tristan made it out alive? He and his men had fled, leaving the slow and the innocent to face the king's fury. He had chosen this risk, not them. Maybe he deserved to face that failure with them too.

She could do nothing for those people now. But soon . . . soon she would be crown princess, next to be queen. Her place would be secure. Then they would see who she had the potential to be.

“ARE YOU FEELING ALL RIGHT, PRINCESS?” BETSY ASKED
the following morning as she pinned up Aurora's hair. “You are looking pale.”

“Yes,” Aurora said. She had slept little, her mind too full of the king's orders, of people dying within the castle while she huddled in her room. Surely Betsy would know something about what had happened, even if it was distorted by lies. But Aurora could not tell her what she had seen. “I just—I heard some things, late last night. People running and shouting. I wasn't sure what was happening.”

“Nothing happened last night, Princess, as far as I know. Maybe you were dreaming.”

“Maybe.” She glanced at Betsy's reflection. The maid's expression was steady, her hands sure. She did not look like she was hiding anything. “It sounded real.”

“Everything was fine, Princess,” Betsy said firmly. “And if it wasn't, you are safe here, with your guards.”

Aurora nodded. Yet she had put Betsy at risk again, by leaving her room at night, ignoring all locks and warnings and running straight toward trouble. She felt a tug of guilt. “I am sorry, you know,” she said softly. “For what happened before.”

Betsy's hands stilled. “It's not your place to apologize to me, Princess.”

“But it is.” She stepped away, sliding her hair out of Betsy's reach and turning to look at the younger girl. “I ignored your warnings, and you got in trouble because of me. And I really am sorry.”

Betsy nodded. She smiled. “There's no need to worry about the past, Princess,” she said. “We've got your wedding to think on.” She stepped up on tiptoe and pinned another curl away from Aurora's face. “And the banquet tomorrow. The queen's got a dress all picked out for you, but I was thinking about your hair. Perhaps some twists from the front, sweeping to a bunch of rosettes on the back of your head, and then loose curls . . . if that pleases you, of course.”

“Yes,” Aurora said. A smile crept across her lips despite herself. “That sounds lovely.”

Betsy nodded and slid a pin into place. She opened her mouth
to speak again, but the door opened, and Queen Iris swept into the room. She wore a tense, pinched expression, her hands clutched in front of her.

“Prince Finnegan wishes to see you,” the queen said. She emphasized the
n
s in Finnegan's name so that it sounded like an insult.

Aurora turned. A lock of hair tumbled, brushing her shoulder. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” the queen said. “Why else would I be here? Betsy, leave her hair. She will have to do as she is.”

He must have news, some new information about the events of the previous night. Aurora removed the loose pin, trying to appear calm. “What does he wish to see me about?”

“Goodness knows, Aurora. If that prince has any logic in his head, he is loath to share it with me.”

The queen led Aurora to a small lounge filled with comfortable-looking chairs on one of the castle's upper floors. Finnegan stood up when the door opened, offering her a casual smile. His expression did not give a single hint about the last time they had spoken.

“Ah, Princess Aurora,” he said. “How lovely to see you again.” He bent down and brushed his lips across the back of her hand. Her cheek tingled with the memory of his kiss, the anticipation that burned when she thought he would really kiss her, the thrill of uncertainty over whether she would shove him away. “Thank you for allowing us another meeting, my
dear Iris. I appreciate it, as always.”

The queen tilted her head in acknowledgment. “I am afraid I can only spare the princess for half an hour. We have many things to do in preparation for tomorrow's banquet.”

“Yes, of course,” Finnegan said. “I will savor the moments.”

The queen nodded again, her hands held before her. “I will return to collect you, Aurora. My guards will wait outside the door if you need anything.” Then she departed, her skirts flowing out behind her.

Aurora spoke as soon as the door clicked shut. “What is it?” she said. “Did you learn something about last night?”

“Nothing more than what you heard. The king is keeping it quiet. I doubt Iris even knows.”

Aurora shook her head. “He can't keep it quiet for long,” she said. “So many people are dead.”

“People that nobody cares about,” Finnegan said. “If we hear about it, it'll be about rebels storming in and killing the king's men. But they'll keep that quiet too, if they can. It wouldn't be good for the king to reveal flaws in his defenses, so close to the happy day.”

“You heard about it,” Aurora said. “You knew before it even started.”

“I have my sources,” he said.

“You have spies, you mean.”

“Of course.”

“Why didn't you stop it?” she said. “If you knew what was going to happen?”

He sat down on one of the comfortable chairs. “How would I stop it, Aurora? Please, enlighten me. How do I stop people I don't know from doing something they've already started, or stop the sovereign of another country from dealing with his own criminals? Should I swoop in with my dragons and threaten them all? Or maybe you were thinking something subtler. Charming them all into submission, perhaps?”

She frowned. “Don't mock me,” she said. “Not now.”

“It's strange how you always take the truth as mockery. Perhaps there is just something inherently mockable about you.”

“Or perhaps there is just something inherently insufferable about you.”

“Insufferable?” he said. “Harsh words, Aurora. But remember, I was the one who kept you informed last night. Without me, you'd be as ignorant as you were before.”

“I guess that makes you my spy,” she said. “Although not a very informative one.”

“I live to serve. If not very well.”

She still refused to sit down. She paced, the nervous energy of the night buzzing through her.

“Things could have been worse,” Finnegan said, after a few moments of silence. “That friend of yours was lucky to escape.”

“Friend?” She stopped. “What do you mean—?”

“I saw your face, when they were threatening that boy. You knew him.”

She stared at him. There seemed little point in lying. “Yes,” she said. The confession made her dizzy. “I did. Or I thought I did.”

“Thinking of betraying Rodric, were you? And with someone other than me? I'm hurt, Aurora, truly I am.” He spoke lightly, but something hard and intense gleamed in his eyes.

“If you want to give me that nonsense, now is not the time.”

“Now seems exactly the time.” He stood up, so that she had to crane her neck to look at him. He was at least six inches taller than she was. For once, his expression was sincere, without a hint of a grin. “You saw King John for who he really is last night. You can't stay here, not after that.”

“I have to stay.”

“No,” he said. “You don't. And you'd be a fool to do so. There's no hope for you here. There's no hope for anyone.”

“So you're trying to convince me to betray my country to save it? How noble of you.”

“Well, my motives aren't entirely noble,” he said. “But you summed it up rather well.” He leaned closer, until his nose almost brushed hers. “Things are only going to get worse, Aurora. Last night was just a taste of what will happen if you stay.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because I've seen these things before. This is only the beginning, Aurora. Which is why you should listen to me. Have you
wondered why, even though we're small, your king and queen fear Vanhelm? It's because we're rich. Well organized. People are happy to ally with us.”

She stepped backward, forcing more space between them. “It's because they're stupid enough to think someone like you could control the dragons. Not because you're actually powerful.”

His smile grew at her assertion, as though he expected nothing less from her. “Ah, but I made them think I had that kind of power. Don't you think that shows some intelligence and initiative too? I'm sure you know plenty about letting people believe lies, with your wedding to your true love so close. The only difference is, my lie makes me look powerful. It gets me what I want. Your lie just puts you in the background. And you do look so stifled there.”

“I will not be in the background for long,” she said. “I will make a difference.”

“Really? Is that what you think?”

She forced herself not to look away. “I woke up for a reason,” she said. “I'll make sure of it.”

“And who says that reason is Rodric? Who says the reason is staying here?”

She threw up her chin. Her hair tickled her neck. “The fact that he woke me up, and you didn't? Rodric will make a good king. And I will make a good queen.”

“I don't doubt it,” he said. “But let me tell you something. Rodric might make a good king someday, but not now. Not in
this mess. What do you plan to do in the meantime?” She did not reply. “For someone so fierce, you seem surprisingly happy to be powerless. You don't have to stay here and go down with the rest of them. If you came with me, you could let some of that fire out. Be who you are actually meant to be.”

Fire. The burns on her hands throbbed.

“I would have thought you have enough fire,” she said. “What with that dragon problem of yours.”

“The dragons are beautiful,” he said. “But none is quite so lovely and terrifying as you. John and Iris don't even know what they have in you.”

“And what is that?”

“Now, I'd be a fool to tell you, wouldn't I, if you aren't going to be on my side. But you should be careful, Princess. I doubt setting your dear Rodric on fire would fit in with your plans.”

She drew in a breath, cold and sharp. “How did you—”

“So it is true,” he said. “I thought so. Word of advice, Princess: don't ever assume that anyone knows as much as you do. You never know what you might end up giving away.”

She pressed her lips together, hating him, hating herself for revealing too much. For falling under the spell of the argument, of the terrible possibilities he promised, and forgetting to guard herself. “You're despicable.”

“No,” he said. “I am honest. At least with you.” He was standing too close to her, but she could not move away. “They
will destroy you, you know,” he said. “When they find out who you really are.”

“I will not betray my kingdom.”

“It would not have to be a betrayal, Aurora,” he said. “Everyone else is playing the game. Why can't you?”

She stepped back, her heart pounding. “It isn't a game,” she said. Finnegan was still too close, his presence filling the room. She moved toward the door, trying to hide the way her hands shook. “Thank you for your advice,” she said. “But I will not change my mind.”

“Of course not, Princess,” he said. The name seemed taunting on his tongue. “But I'll be waiting if you do.”

The queen called Aurora to her chambers again that afternoon for the final fitting of her wedding dress. It fell in streams of gossamer and ice, floating ethereal on the air and transforming her into a fairy that might have slipped, like a dewdrop, out of the mist. Two of the seamstresses gasped and exclaimed at her beauty, while the third, the tall, austere one, stood farther back and watched the scene with stern, approving eyes.

“What do you think of it, Aurora?” the queen asked as a seamstress placed a single lily behind the princess's ear. The queen clutched Aurora by the shoulders and spun her gently toward a full-length mirror, decorated with swirling silver and darted through with jewels.

“It's beautiful.” And it was. Her hair fell down her
shoulders like a waterfall of golden silk, while the material of the dress shimmered with such delicacy that one touch might make it melt away into nothing. The bodice was tight, forcing in Aurora's stomach, but it also straightened her back, making her tall, elegant, regal. She reached out and touched the cold glass with the tip of her index finger. The skin still seemed to prickle from the point of a needle.
This is my destiny.
Her head began to spin.

After the dress had been pinned and tucked, and the seamstresses had scurried away, the queen met her eyes in the mirror. “I think you will do,” she said. She ran a hand down the back of Aurora's hair. “If you follow my instructions, perhaps things will turn out well.”

If she practiced her lies. If she remained as careful, as false, as Iris herself.

Aurora stared at their reflection. The queen's elegance was effortless, but beneath it, Aurora thought she seemed rather tired. “Tell me what it is like,” Aurora said slowly. “To be queen.”

The queen frowned, and for a moment, Aurora thought she was going to dismiss her. Then she spoke, her voice soft. “It is . . . hard,” she said. “They are always watching you, Aurora. You have all the appearance of authority, but no actual power. And if you let that appearance slip, you lose even that.”

“If you knew—if your husband were doing something terrible, would you stop him?”

“Aurora, my dear, I can as little control my husband as I can
stop the rain. After many years, I have learned to cajole him. But my opinion stopped counting the moment I was sent here to marry him.” She ran her fingers through the ends of Aurora's hair. “But you need not worry yourself about that. You have been given a good lot, for all your grief. Rodric is not that sort of boy.”

For a moment, Aurora considered going to Rodric and telling him what she had seen. About sneaking into the dungeons, about Tristan, about his father's brutality. But she couldn't do it. Not if it meant losing Rodric's trust. He deserved more than her lies and fake smiles. He deserved the things she could not be.

Suddenly, she knew what she wanted to do. “I wish to see Rodric,” she said. The words burst out in an ungainly tumble.