Red Palace (10 page)

I duck to dodg
e a flying piece of debris as I move forwards. The tornado answers my command when I force it on faster, like a loyal dog. I put both hands on the hilt of my sword, knowing that we must be close. My heart pounds with anticipation. This is it. This will be the moment I defeat the Nix.

A sickening squeal rises above the sound of the wind.
I rush on, bursting through the tornado, which doesn’t touch or hurt me. However, a flying silver jug hits me hard on the shoulder.

When I see it, my blood runs cold. This is the first time I have faced the monster s
ince the Waerg Woods, and all the taunts, riddles and sickening laughs spin around in my mind as fast as my own tornado. For a horrifying second I am petrified by its presence. The Nix has reared up and is being buffeted by the wind. Its many legs wave in the air and its jagged teeth gnash together. As its body bends, the hard shells on its back clack together, as though it is made of more teeth; teeth and shells and squidgy underbelly. The eyes hold mine, a translucent green over blackness. At the sight of me, it squirts out its defensive serum, but the wind sweeps it away from me.

Using more of my power, I
create a mini hurricane to dislodge some of the bricks from the surrounding walls, careful not to take too many. There’s a rumble as the bricks fall from the walls, hitting the Nix in all directions. I stop quickly, in case I bring the palace down on us all.

Yo
u are not as powerful as I am, craft-born
, it taunts me.
Where is your white stag to protect you now?

At the mention of Anta, I lunge forward and stab at the Nix. But too late I realise this is what it wanted all along. In the midst of tornadoes and bricks, the Nix is able to strike me with one of its long, pointed legs, and it scratches me all along my face and down my chest.
The shock causes me to fall back, and it’s then that the Nix sprays its serum over my body.

Whatever you see, he will never love you.
It will not be because of the craft-born imposter, it will be because you lied to him.

You will break your heart in two.

I’m always wrong and so are you.

“No!” I cry out. It’s no good. I’m sucked away, sucked back into a vision.

*

It’s Cas again. His eyes have lost the swimming tears of the young boy I saw at the ball, to be replaced with the contemplative melancholy of adulthood. Yet, as I watch him by the window of the bell tower standing out towards the sea, he reminds me more of that boy than of the Cas I know. I think of the queen’s worst fear and my heart hurts. I’ve watched him murdered twice. The pain had been to the point of unbearable, and not just because I had felt the queen’s emotions, but because when he hurts, I hurt.

He speak
s. He does not know I’m here.

“What am I going to do?” he whispers. “Mae. Mae, what am I going to do?”

He shakes his head sadly.

“I’ll never love her.”

“Never love who?” I shout. I rush towards him, desperate for him to see me. “Who will you never love?”

I’m a ghost in his world and I
always have been. I’m desperate for him to see me. It’s not a thing that I can prove, it’s just something that I know deep down in my bones: I have always been the ghost in his world. A spirit of a girl. A spectre to haunt him. My heart has never felt so raw, and so swollen.

I reach out to touch him. He bows his head and grips the sill of the open window. The cool breeze coming from the sea lifts his hair, and it ripples down to the collar of his t
unic. I long for him to turn his silver eyes towards me. Just one more time. One more.

I imagine them damp with tears.

Well this confirms it. He must be talking about me. He said my name. Cas will never love me and had may as well move on with my life. At least now I have the confirmation I need.

But as I turn away from
Cas, the world shifts once more. I’m sucked away and pulled into another scene.

I’m back at the ballroom. The quiet solitude of the bell tower has been replaced by the bustle of gowns and the thumping of the orchestra.
It’s a fast tune, one different to the slow melody played at the last ball. My chest is constricted once more, proving that I am squashed into yet another uncomfortable corset. When I lift my hand to the chill on my neck, I discover that my hair has been braided away from my face, and a mask has been clipped into my hair, covering my face. But apart from that, I am me. My skin is still dark, I stand in an unladylike manner, and my mouth waters at the sight of the food.

Perhaps I have been sent back to the same ball I saw the young Casimir at. With a sin
king realisation in my stomach, I realise that I could be here just to watch Lyndon kill Cas for a third time.

But then
the room spins. My feet move in time to the music, and I am swept away by a dancer. It is as though I have done this before, and my body already knows how to react. If I am in someone else’s fear, that must mean I am myself, but playing the part of myself in their vision. I gaze up at the high ceilings. There are banners and bunting hanging from the chandelier. They spin and spin above me as I dance around the room.

My partner is tall and wears a mask which
conceals his features. There is some sort of gauze obscuring the colour and shape of his eyes. The mask disguises the view of his hair, too. But his arms are strong and he moves well across the floor, even when I trip. I am not a good dancer, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He pulls me a little closer, until there is only a finger’s breadth between our bodies. It is perhaps a little too close for polite society, but again, my partner does not seem to mind at all. He appears quite at ease with the dance and the ball in general. His clothes are fine. The tunic is embroidered with gold thread. He must be extremely wealthy.

It’s only then that I look down at my own gown, expecting it to be made out of cheap fabric and ill-fitting. It is not. It is a beautiful white gown with delicate flowers stitched in silver.

“You dance well,” I say. The words spill out of my mouth without any thought.

“As do you,” he replies. His voice is stiff and stilted, as though he is nervous.

I relax into the dance. Before long I enjoy the twists and turns, and the way my dress sways with my body. My partner’s warm hand rests on the small of my back. His touch is a comfort to me, something I can relax into, and with each lap of the dance floor we move closer until our noses are a hair’s breadth from each other. We’re verging on scandalous, but I don’t care any longer. I am consumed by the thought of his arms around me and the desire to rip away the mask. I long to reveal his eyes, to know this man.

“Perhaps we should get some fresh air,” I suggest. Again, the words come from my lips, but I have little control over them. It is as though I am acting the part in a play, controlled by some puppet
master somewhere. The Nix?

“That sounds agreeable,” he says.

We break from our embrace, with some reluctance. The absence of his hands leaves a chill on my body. I feel eyes upon us when we step through the ballroom. One woman says: “Did you see them? He should not be dancing with the likes of her. What would the princess say?”

My cheeks warm with a combination of indignation and shame. Who am I dancing with that would upset
a princess?

We make our way out onto a deserted balcony which overlooks the impressive gardens below.
The breeze is warm, scented with lavender, sweet and floral. Ivy twists around the stone balustrade. I turn to my dancing partner with an unsaid question on my lips. He tears the mask away to answer that question.

Cas
?

“Mae,” he says, his voice not as anxious or stilted, but rushed and breathy. “We do not have much time until the princess… I shouldn’t have danced like that with you. It’s too dangerous.”

“But, Cas!”
I reach forward and take his hands in mine. “Don’t! I want to be with you.”

“And I you, but if
Ellen, the princess—I hate saying that—if she finds out… You should go. You should leave here,” he urges. “She is powerful and she will kill you if she knows. I’m sorry Mae.”

Ellen is the princess
? But that means they have married. My heart sinks.

He lifts a finger to my face and unhooks the mask.
Before I can do anything else, his lips press against mine. It is a gentle kiss, but ignites my senses all the same. I smell that familiar Cas scent, one of sweet and spice. Musk, berries, lemons…

“Come, we must get you to safety. Replace your mask. I know a way out of the castle, and you must take it. You must go, ride away to somewhere safe. I cannot lose you forever, Mae. I cannot.”

We rush back into the ballroom and through the throng of people into the corridors. Cas ducks through them, ignoring the stares and whispers. He stops me by a refreshments table and leans towards me as though we are talking.

“Now, don’t say anything. There are people
watching us. Wait until they become bored and I’ll help you leave,” he says. “These sweet buns are tasty, aren’t they?” He glances over his shoulder. “Right, now.”

We slip out of the ballroom and head down the corridor. My sho
es click against the stones. I bend down and slip them from my feet. Then I can trot alongside Cas, keeping up with his pace.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“I’m taking you to the tunnels. Then you need to go to Anta. Ride away from here. It’s the only way.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I have to think of the realm. My father is ill. If I go now, it will give Lyndon an opportunity to usurp the throne. We both know he will run Aegunlund into the ground. I can’t let that happen.”

I know he’s right, but there’s an ache in my stomach.

“Where will I go?”

“To Sasha,” he says. “She’
ll keep you safe in the Borgan camp. I know you’re still angry about what happened to your father, but you know she is a good person. She had nothing to do with it.”

“I know,” I say. “I’ll go to Sasha.”

Cas comes to a halt, and for the third time since the curse came down on the Red Palace, I find myself at the queen’s chambers. He slides the brass rings until the notches line up correctly, then ushers me into the room. There he opens the hidden door in the bathroom by moving another set of the brass rings from the inside. He takes me by the hand and leads me into the secret passageway.

“Will I see you again?” When I say the words I feel as though I have said them before.

“I don’t know,” he replies. His face is strained and tense. His jaw is set and juts out, as though he’s gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry, Mae.”

I pull on his arm.
“It’s not your fault.”

We kiss again, harder this time. His body presses against mine. There’s something
that feels normal and right, and yet there’s another part screaming inside, telling me that I can’t stop kissing him, that I must cling to him and never let him go. When he pulls away, I’m left woozy for a moment. I rock back on my heels in a daze. Cas has to pull me on.

The twists and turns of the tunnels are different this time. I try to memorise them as we go,
counting the lefts and rights. It all goes past in a blur. Cas’s lantern waivers as we hurry, spinning shadows along the walls. It reminds me of a shadow show in the tavern once in Halts-Walden, when the actors made shapes out of their hands. I remember the silhouette of a wolf that frightened me so much I did not sleep for two nights. Father had told me I was too young but I had insisted…

On the left wall, I spot a
line of words carved into one of the stones. The words are small, cursive, worn over time. I have to stop and read them, but I don’t seem to have any control over my body in this vision. My legs continue to hurry along. I can move my head, but my body won’t let me deviate further.

This is it. This is my chance to find out before I am back in my own body and in danger from the Nix. I must make myself. I must learn how to
take control of these visions, because this could help me defeat the Nix.

All I can do is hope that the craft will stir within me. If the realm draws on the craft, then that must mean that the Nix’s magic is related to mine.
If I concentrate on taking control of my body… perhaps…

I think of slowing myself one footstep at a time. I lean
back from Cas, trying to ease my hand out of his. My body wills me forward, but I take a deep breath and try to empty my mind. When my hand lets go of Cas, I know I’m almost there. Now I need to slow down my footsteps.

“What’s wrong?”
Cas says.

“I… I…” Controlling my voice is even harder. I force myself through the barrier. “I need to see something… the
words on the wall…”

“What are you tal
king about? Mae, we have to leave.”

“Can’t…” I say. “Need to…”

I force my feet back. At first I’m walking backwards because I can’t turn around, but as I break down more barriers, I’m able to turn myself in the opposite direction and hurry back along the passageway, searching for those words. Could they be important to my quest to destroy the curse?

“Mae!”
Cas calls out. “What are you doing?”

I hear his boots scuff the floor as he rushes back to me.

“There’s something here that I need to see,” I insist.

“What is it?”

“Here.” I point to the words. They say:
En Crypt Saran.

“It must be some crypt for a person called Saran,”
Cas says. “Come on we have to go.”

“Why would there be a crypt here?”

Cas shrugs. “Who knows what could be in these walls. Some of them are thick enough to hold a body. Perhaps one of the old kings murdered and buried his rival here. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“
En Crypt Saran,” I say aloud. The words are strange and disjointed.

“Leave it,”
Cas urges. “Look, there is even a symbol beneath it. Probably a marker for the poor soul stuck in the wall.” He rubs away at moss on the stone. It reveals the basic sketch of an eye.

I gasp.
“Viewing platform.”

“What?”
Cas asks.

“Something Beardsley said.”
I know deep down that this must be the key. There is something to solve here. I lean forward and examine the wall, running my fingers over the bricks. It could be that my imagination is reaching for something that isn’t there, but it seems to me that for a rectangle underneath the words, the surface of the stones are smoother. It’s a very subtle change, but one that raises my suspicions. Perhaps this is some sort of false wall.

“T
his is of little importance. Mae, Ellen
knows
about us. It’s dangerous for you here.”

“What is Ellen going to do?” I ask. I seem to be in full control of myself now.
I’m able to talk and walk as I would like.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it is dangerous for the
king to find out I am with you. He will not stand for it. He and Lyndon would like nothing more than to get rid of me. I swear sometimes they conspire against me at night. There are times when I lay awake, waiting for it to happen. I worry they will go for Mother first. I can’t worry about you as well. I… I need you safe, Mae.”

“Then I’ll go,” I say.
I am desperate to investigate the wall further, but I am also aware of the fact that I can be hurt, perhaps even killed, in the visions. Not only that, Cas’s eyes are wide and pleading, full of bright emotion that I can’t resist. I lift a hand and touch his cheek. “I promise I will.” And then, in a surge of emotion that comes from my very core, one that almost knocks me off my feet, I find myself saying, “I love you, Cas. I have for longer than I care to admit.” Saying the words sends a heat wave up my skin. Being in the vision has made me bold. I forgot myself for a moment. I’m speaking as
me
now, not some puppet in the Nix’s vision.

“I love you too,” he says with a long breath.
He grasps my hand and his eyes bore into mine. My heart pounds. The moment is too fleeting. I want to clutch it and hold on to it. I want time to slow. I want to savour this moment, stretch it out until it reaches infinity twenty times over. More than anything, I want this moment to be real, not part of a sick and twisted game.

“But we have to go,” he insists.

I snap out of my trance and nod. We hurry back along the passage. Cas directs us with ease. I imagine him and his mother practising their escape along these tunnels. The queen was right to ensure her safety in the Red Palace by taking the room by this passageway.

Cas
is out of breath and flushed by the time we reach a large, wooden door with a lock combination even more complicated than the last.

“If you go through here, you reach
the sewage tunnels out of Cyne. On the border, I’ll have a guard waiting with Anta. I’m sorry, Mae. If there was another way. I wish I could come with you.”

Unexpected tears prick my eyes. I might now be in control of my body, but my emotions are running high. This is a lot to take in: an affair with
Cas? Danger from Ellen? An escape?

“
Can I send you a message when I get to Sasha?” I say.

“Send it to my mother. She’ll give it to me. Anything directly to me could be dangerous. They’re coming for me, Mae. I can feel it.”

“Then I should stay and protect you,” I reply.

“What can you do? No, I want you in safety.”

“I’m stronger than you think.”

Cas
turns away from me and moves the rings to open the door. It swings open and the smell of the putrid sewage tunnels hits the back of my throat.

“Go,” he says.

My eyes mist. I take hold of Cas and kiss him again. This time, I am me, and I have waited for this moment for a long time. I sink into him, and I memorise every moment. I inhale his scent, taste the sweet honey of Cyne sticky buns. I could live my life and only have this moment. Even if it isn’t real, I need to remember it. All of it.

When we break,
I move towards the sewage tunnel when there is a high-pitched sound like a
zziip
and a
thump
. Something hot hits my back and warm liquid trickles down my hip.

“What…
?” I say, stumbling from my woozy head. Cas grasps my wrist, his face filled with horror.

Another
zzip
and a hideous
thump
as another arrow hits my chest. My knees buckle from under me.

A man dressed in gold steps out from the shadows. He grins and his teeth are like wolf’s teeth.
The king. “I told you I wouldn’t miss this time.”

As the tunnel fades into darkness, I see
Cas’s eyes filled with tears.

*

I wake to searing pain over my body. Both my chest and my back is in agony. The Nix is gone, but blood seeps from both wounds, mingling with the stones on the floor of the castle. There are black spots darting in front of my eyes and I long to close them, until I hear a voice.

“Stay with me, Mae. Don’t go to sleep.”

“Sasha? What are you doing here?”

There’s a swish of red curls. My vision is blurry but I can just make out her pale face staring down at me. “I guess I’m your new protector. Allerton came back to the c
amp in a right huff. It was dreadfully creepy watching his soul filter back into a lifeless body. No, don’t try to move. You’ve been badly injured. Stay very still.”

In my pain, I must have reached out to the Borgans. Only this time, I
tore Sasha’s soul from her body. Her familiar tone is a comfort to me, but I hate the thought of putting her in danger.

“I can’t touch you, Mae, so you need to dress the wounds yourself. It looks like the wound on your chest is bleeding faster than the one on your back. You need to apply pressure.”

“This… this isn’t the first injury,” I say as I try to rip clothing to apply to my chest. “I have a cut on my side, too. And the Nix got my face. It… it’s too much. I won’t make it.”

“Yes you will,” she says. “You are the craft-born and you heal fast. Now
, press down on the wound on your chest, and think about the earth. Do you remember when we were in the Waerg Woods and the Profeta stabbed you?”

“Yes,” I say. “I remember.”

“That wound was far worse than these, and it was infected. But you dreamt of the earth. You dreamt of the roots tangled in soil, and it helped to mend you. You must do that now. Dress the cut tightly, and think of those roots.”