Ussay looked at Kira curiously. “How did you know?”
Kira shrugged. “A guess.”
“Yes, she did. I would have thought nothing of it, but then the same thing happened to Serena, the weaver’s daughter. Even to this day, she is not the same. She was at the castle one night—”
“Wait.” Kira’s stomach gave a little twist and she suddenly felt like throwing up. “What did you say?”
“I said it happened to the weaver’s daughter. Kira, are you all right? The color just drained from your face.” Ussay slid off the bed and reached for the basin her mother used the night before to burn the bandages. She held it out for Kira to take. She pushed it away.
“I’m fine. I’m not sure I heard you right, though. Who is the weaver’s daughter?”
“Serena. Do you know her?”
“No, but I’ve heard Lydia speak about a Serena. Did she go to the ball . . . the night the queen was killed?” Kira’s stomach rose into her throat. She didn’t want to hear this.
“Yes. Octavion was her escort.”
Kira’s heart leapt in her chest and a sharp pain shot down into her stomach. “No,” she managed, before reaching around Ussay for the basin and heaving what little was in her stomach into the bowl.
“How can you be sick? You have not eaten.” Ussay ran to the cupboard and brought back a towel.
“I don’t know.”
How can she be alive? Did Lydia and Octavion lie to me? Or were they deceived by their father? And what about the Crystor? If Serena isn’t dead, how was the bracelet removed from her wrist without her and Lydia dying?
And then another question popped into her head—if Lydia was dead, why hadn’t the Crystor fallen off? Of course, maybe that had more to do with still being bound to Altaria. Kira held her head in her hands while confusion stuffed it full of questions.
Kira wiped her face and handed the basin to Ussay. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I need to eat something.”
“I am so sorry. I keep promising you food and then forgetting.” Ussay went to a box on the mantle and pulled out a small chunk of bread. She put it on a plate from the cupboard and handed it to Kira. “My mother spends the day with my aunt and I am always at the castle. I am afraid we do not keep much food here. I will be right back.”
As soon as the door closed behind Ussay, Kira put the plate of bread on the table next to the bed, laid her head on the pillow and curled into a ball. Serena was alive. The thought terrified her. If his father lied to him, Octavion would be furious. She didn’t want to think about what it would mean for her if Octavion discovered the girl he once loved and meant to marry was still alive.
As Kira lay there, staring at the empty fireplace, an image came to her mind. It was of the first time she’d seen Toran, her back against the boulder near Octavion’s lair on the mountain. A huge white tiger advanced toward her, growling and snarling. She felt the warmth of his breath on her face and closed her eyes.
In the distance she heard Octavion call her name. She opened her eyes but now she saw herself in the village, her back pressed to the rock wall of a cottage. In Toran’s place stood Octavion, fully transformed, his sharp teeth visible through his vicious snarl. He looked at her with hunger in his eyes and then leaned toward her, his breath rushing down her neck. A deep rumbling sound escaped his chest.
“I know you
can’t
hurt me. It’s not in you.” Her shaky voice formed the words in a whisper.
A confused look crossed his beastly face when he looked into her eyes, then he simply disappeared.
When Ussay came through the door with a bowl of fruit and a loaf of bread, Kira’s sense of survival and determination had been renewed. She didn’t care what Ussay said. She knew in her heart Octavion would never hurt her. She’d seen it with her own eyes—felt it in her heart. And as far as Serena was concerned—well, she’d jump off that bridge when she got to it.
Kira swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood. The pressure on her foot caused a little pain, but as she rolled her foot to the outside edge, it lessened. She could walk. Ussay protested, but Kira insisted on helping prepare their meal. Kira sat at the table and looked through her selection of fruit while Ussay pulled a small bench from near the fireplace and joined her.
“So, tell me what needs to be done for tonight?” Kira didn’t intend to be the victim in all this. If this was how she lived the rest of her life, she needed to learn how to protect herself. Octavion wasn’t the only one she had to worry about. There were other Royals out there.
“I will take care of it,” Ussay said. “You can stay here and relax.”
“Are you insane? I’m sick of being cooped up and staying in bed all day. I want to help. You said we’d have to spread my scent, would it be easier if I walked around outside?”
“But your foot. I—”
Kira’s glare cut her off.
“Well, if you insist. Yes, walking around would help. I need to take the Sevrin with us as well. It’s important to spread them both so it appears we tried to hide the scent. I’ve asked a few of the women at the market to do the same.”
Kira almost forgot about the screams that rang out through the village during the night. “Did he—was anyone hurt last night? I heard screaming.”
“I do not believe so. Some think the screaming will scare off the Royals, but they are foolish. There is also a sensitive on the other side of the village who senses when they are about to appear. She claims to feel their spirit arrive long before their physical bodies do. Sometimes she will scream to warn others. I am skeptical. Everyone has their own way of dealing with it, but after years of being in the castle, I know complete silence is best.”
Kira brushed a few breadcrumbs from her dress. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
Kira hesitated, trying to find the right words. She didn’t want to offend Ussay or get her into trouble, but she needed the truth. “I need to know about . . .” She paused for a moment before whispering her name. “Lydia.”
Ussay gasped. “I cannot—”
“Wait.” Kira reached across the table and patted Ussay’s hand. “I know you said talking about her is forbidden and I don’t want to get you in trouble, but . . . maybe there’s a way you can tell me without speaking her name. I need to know what happened. She was my friend and we shared a special connection.”
Ussay pulled her hand out from under Kira’s and stood. She went to the fireplace, keeping her back to Kira. “I could lose my station in the castle.”
“No. I won’t tell anyone, not even Octavion. I swear it.” Kira stood and joined Ussay in front of the cold hearth. She placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Please.”
Ussay was quiet for a long moment before she finally spoke. “All I can tell you is . . . there is a fresh grave in the Royal cemetery.”
Kira dropped her hand to her side and went back to the table to sit. She fingered the Crystor, spinning it around her wrist. “When?”
“Um . . . I do not—”
“Please. I need to know.”
Ussay joined Kira at the table, her eyes brimming with tears. “I was summoned to the castle to attend to your needs the same day she passed.”
Kira’s hand flew to her mouth and the beat of her heart increased, causing her chest to ache. She knew Altaria listened. She always listened. “She died the same day I came here?”
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Ussay said, “At sunset, the night before.”
I could have saved her.
“I am sorry, Kira. I know how difficult it is to lose a friend.”
“Thanks for telling me. I won’t say anything. It makes all this much easier, knowing I have someone to talk to. Knowing I have a friend.”
Ussay paused for a moment, a bewildered look on her face. “You would consider a commoner a friend?”
Kira smiled through her tears. “
I’m
a commoner. There’s not a drop of Royal blood running through my veins.”
Well, except Octavion’s.
“Kira, I am honored to call you my friend.”
“I’m glad. I need one right now.” They both wiped their tears again and continued with their breakfast. Somehow, most of the food Ussay retrieved from the village had been eaten. Kira sat back in the chair and rubbed her stomach.
“Ugh. I ate too much. I hope I don’t get sick—I hate being sick.”
“If you become ill, I will make you some Kostai.”
“Is that the stuff you tried to feed me when I woke—that grey goo in the bowl?
“Yes, but you never tasted it,” Ussay said. “How do you know it is not good?”
Kira turned up her nose. “It smelled like dirty socks.”
Ussay frowned, but when Kira started laughing, her new friend joined right in. It felt good to laugh.
They spent most of the morning walking around the village, taking plenty of opportunities to sit and rest Kira’s shaky legs and sore foot. She was determined to gain her strength back as soon as she could. She hated the idea of being weak and others having to take care of her.
Kira was surprised at how friendly everyone acted and how they all seemed to know her. Of course, who could miss her red hair and dark eyes? Some people shied away, especially mothers with small children, but most were kind. They curtsied or bowed as if she were royalty. At first it made her a little uncomfortable, but then she thought it was kind of fun, like pretending to be a princess when she was little. And she had to admit, she liked the special treatment.
Shortly after midday, Kira happened to step out onto the main road leading up the hill to the castle. When she’d seen the castle earlier in the day, it had appeared dark and mysterious with the sun obscured behind it. Now the sun reflected off the white stone, illuminating every detail. She stood there for several moments, taking in the glorious view.
“Kira, are you all right?” Ussay asked.
Kira nodded. “I didn’t realize how beautiful it was. It’s like a vision . . . a heavenly palace for angels.” She tried to remember how it looked when Lydia used the journey stone in Octavion’s lair, but even then, it held no comparison to what she saw now.
“I like seeing it through your eyes,” Ussay said. “When you work there every day, you forget.”
“I hope I never forget.” Kira turned to look at her. “Do you mind if we sit for a while? My feet hurt.”
“We need to get you some shoes.” Ussay motioned for Kira to sit on a small bench near the well in the center of the village. “Once you are rested we will see the cobbler. He may have a pair of shoes to fit you. I do not believe mine are small enough.”
They’d barely sat down when a sense of dread crept over Kira. She had the distinct impression that a Royal was nearby. Surely one wouldn’t appear in the village this close to the new moon phase—at least not a good Royal. “Didn’t you say the Royal’s would be sleeping?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Curious, that’s all,” Kira lied. But the feeling grew stronger before it finally went away. She couldn’t help be suspicious of the villagers around her. For all she knew, any one of them could be a Royal who meant to do her harm.
“Ussay!” a small voice rang out. Kira and Ussay looked in the direction of the voice to find a young boy running up the cobblestone street. “I have something for you.” He waved a small piece of paper in the air.
Ussay stood and waited for him to come to her. “This is for you. Mara . . .” He took a deep breath. “Lady Mara brought it to your mother at the marketplace. She said to give it to you.”
“Thank you Braden.” She ruffled his hair. “Now run along.”
“I cannot,” he said. “I am to wait for a reply.”
“Who’s Lady Mara?” Kira asked.
“Luka’s mother.” Ussay studied the envelope she held in her hand—parchment sealed with a small blob of red wax, the letter “O” stamped in the middle. She slowly turned it over. “I believe this is for you.” She handed it to Kira.
Kira took it from her. On the front were several letters and symbols she didn’t recognize. She ran her finger over the markings and a voice whispered in her mind.
Ussay,
Please see that Kira receives this.
O
Kira stared at the words she could now read written on the paper, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it. She still wasn't sure how she felt about what she saw the night before and she certainly wasn't ready to hear what Octavion had to say about it with the villagers watching and waiting for her reaction.
“Tell her . . . there will be no reply,” Kira said.
Ussay motioned for Braden to return with Kira’s answer and then put her hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”
Kira slipped the letter up the sleeve of her dress and brushed off the front of her skirt. “Nothing. Can we get those shoes now? I’d really like to go back to your cottage.”
“As you wish,” Ussay said.
The cobbler had two pairs of shoes—both made for children and way too small. Ussay offered Kira hers, but she refused. By the time they got back to the cottage her feet were on fire. Kira felt grateful they at least weren’t bleeding or all their work would have been in vain. Ussay helped Kira wash them and apply salve. Kira convinced her to apply the same medicine to the scratch on her wrist—the infection appeared to be getting worse.