The Hidden Princess (14 page)

I sat down beside her, suddenly relieved just to stop, just to rest. “Con?” I didn’t even know where to start. She’d been lied to and lied to by her own family till it must’ve seemed like she couldn’t trust anyone or anything. All I could think of was how many years I’d wasted, obsessing over Lissy. Nothing had seemed to matter except her, not school, not exams, not even my mates, who, if I’m honest, had all drifted away, leaving me in my own little world of dreaming and dreaming about Lissy, Lissy, Lissy. Always bloody Lissy. All for nothing. She didn’t give a toss. How was it possible for me to want her so much, so bloody much, if I was nothing but a mate to her, or not even that, just a stepbrother she’d hardly known? How was it possible for me to have made such an idiot out of myself for so long? The Hidden and mortals are a bad combination. A really, really bad combination.

For what seemed like ages, Connie didn’t speak at all. “She’s not dead.” Her voice was muffled, forehead still resting on her knees. “You know what?” Connie went on, still using that odd little shaky voice that sounded nothing like her normal cocky self. “I never believed she was dead. I really didn’t. All those years I thought I was going crazy.” She let out a short, sharp laugh. “All those sessions with that stupid counsellor. I can’t believe they did that to me, Mum and Dad. Letting me think I was going mad just because they didn’t want to tell me the truth.”

“They were wrong. They were downright stupid. They should’ve told you the truth, and then we wouldn’t be in this mess. You’d not have opened the Gateway if you’d have known what it’d mean.”

“He’s her brother,” Connie said, still not looking up. “That thing is her brother. He
flew
.” She let out a funny little laugh. “I can’t get over that Lissy’s got a brother I never knew about. I mean, I guessed years ago that Dad wasn’t her real dad, but a brother? I can’t believe no one ever told me.” She glanced up at me, and her face was stained with tears. “That’s not even the weirdest thing about all this, though, is it? What
are
they, Joe? That Larkspur is the same as the boy I saw in my Dream – the one who told me to move the iron cross. His hair’s different but they look so alike. I thought it was just a stupid dream, but I’ve done something really, really bad, haven’t I?” She drew in a long, shuddering breath. “I’ve really messed up.”

“It’s not stupid, Con. You weren’t to know. The boy you must’ve seen wasn’t a boy at all – he’s the Swan King, Larkspur’s father – Lissy’s father. He wanted to kill us all, to take revenge because his wife was murdered by mortals – it’s why he got you to open the Gateway; they were trapped down there, in the Halls – but Lissy must have killed him, instead, before he got the chance to escape. They’re the Hidden, and to be honest I still don’t really know what they are. They don’t age like us – they don’t die normally, and iron’s the only thing that can kill them – but the Hidden can’t have children of their own. Larkspur was the last pure Hidden child to be born, and he’s two thousand years old. They can’t breed properly, not with each other, anyway. It’s why they’ve always wanted us – mortals – and why we’re not meant to have any contact with them. There was this group set up to keep us apart – like a security agency, but a really ancient one that’s been around for hundreds of years: the Fontevrault. They’re the ones who killed the Swan King’s wife. The Hidden are supposed to be trapped, imprisoned – the Swan King wanted to spread this plague to wipe us all out, to punish us in revenge. That’s why your parents lied to you – they must’ve been afraid that you were too young to know the truth, that you couldn’t be expected to keep it a secret, and the Fontevrault would go after you. Oh, Christ, Connie. It’s a long story. Look, we should get back to the house. It’s not safe out here. Not with the Hidden everywhere.”

Lissy had killed the Swan King.

Connie looked up at me. I’d expected her to still be in tears, but her eyes were now dry and furious. “I’m not going anywhere, Joe.”

“I’m not even sure I should be telling you this – your mam and dad obviously never wanted you to know.”

“Joe, I’ve just discovered that my dead sister isn’t really dead. Or human. There’s not much point in you trying to whitewash this now. I think it’s time someone told me the truth, don’t you?”

I could’ve killed Miriam and Adam; if they’d only told Connie the real story years ago instead of spinning all those pathetic lies about Lissy being dead, we would never have been in this mess. She’d have known not to open the Gateway.

I sighed. “It’s not good, all right. Now the Hidden have escaped, the Fontevrault will be coming. It’s not going to take them long to pick up on this. They’re all about not letting anyone know about the Hidden, to stop us mixing with them. I mean, you can see why – imagine if Hitler and the Nazis had managed to breed a load of hybrid Hidden immortal children just like Lissy. And to be fair, the last anyone knew including the Fontevrault was that Lissy and Larkspur’s father wanted all the mortals dead. Every last one of us – in revenge for killing Larkspur’s mother. It was hundreds of years ago, but time doesn’t mean anything to the Hidden. They never forget. And once the Fontevrault hear the Gateway’s open – and it won’t be long before they find out – they’ll come down here ready for a fight with the Swan King. They’ll kill all the Hidden just to make sure they don’t cause any trouble.”

“Then why don’t we just
let
these Fontevrault people kill them?” Connie demanded, her voice harsh. “They don’t exactly seem like the most desirable neighbours, Joe.”

“Because if all the Hidden were killed that would be genocide, Connie. Murder on a huge scale. And we’d be just letting it happen, that’s why.”

Connie stared at me for a second. “Then get someone to stop these Fontevrault people coming if you want to protect those Hidden things, though God knows why you do. It’s our land, it’s the Reach. The Fontevrault can’t just turn up. They’re not the police.”

“They’re bigger than the police – the whole operation is ratified by the government, even though no one official would ever admit to knowing about them.”

Connie laughed. “Do you realize how ridiculous this sounds? It’s like one of those conspiracy theories about the whole planet being an alien spaceship.”

I gave her a sarcastic smile. “Yes, Connie, and what you’ve just seen in the woods was bloody Tinkerbell and all her friends playing with Bambi.”

“How do you even know about all this stuff, anyway, Joe?”

I let out a long breath. I wasn’t sure where to start with that. “It’s a long story. But your dad’s one of them, Connie.Adam’s one of the Fontevrault, and he kept Lissy a secret from them for fourteen years. I reckon you’ll be seeing him sooner than you thought.”

“Dad?” hissed Connie, and I realized I’d gone too far, that it was all just too much. “My dad’s a member of this group?” she went on, furious. “More lies and more stupid secrets, more and more? Is there anything at all about my life that’s actually true? Is there anything about my family that’s in any way
normal
?”

Something inside her seemed to snap and she got up and ran, stumbling away through the trees in her school uniform. “Connie!” I shouted. “Come on, don’t do this – I thought you wanted to know the truth. Just let me explain.”

But she was gone, and I’d messed up again. Poor kid. Poor bloody kid. I got to my feet and ran after her, but I knew even then that Connie wasn’t about to make it easy for me to find her. How could I even blame her?

Night creeps closer and Larkspur and I stand alone on the lawn, watching the sun bleed red light into the sky behind the Reach. Fury and grief still seep from him like liquor from rotten meat. I’m about to go home, home at last, but in the back of my mind, all I can hear is our father saying,
Lissy, please
, over and over again. He was so desperate to die, for it all to be over. So why do I feel so numb? I killed him. I’m a murderer, taken in by another Hidden trick. By
Iris
– the only one I trusted. The only one apart from Larkspur who’d tried to help poor Tippy all those hundreds of years ago. And I’d felt so sorry for her.

“I don’t want to go in,” Larkspur says, quietly. “I’ve never trusted the mortals.”

I shiver beneath my cloak of feathers, a warm soft weight hanging from my shoulders. It’s part of me, feather shafts protruding from my shoulders, growing out of my flesh as if they’ve always been there. “I’m just as scared as you are. The Hidden are everywhere, Larkspur. I haven’t seen Iris since we came through the Gateway – I don’t know what she’s planning – and so many others are unaccounted for. We should have sent everyone back to the Halls and sealed the Gateway. I need to make sure Connie’s OK, then somehow get a message to the Fontevrault, or to my – to Adam Harker.”

I’d nearly said,
my dad
. But Adam Harker has never been my true father. He’s Fontevrault, though, and if anyone can help us now it’s him. We need to negotiate.

Larkspur just gives me a long look I can’t read the meaning of.

“I didn’t want this, you know,” I snap. “I didn’t ask to be Queen. They got Iris to trick me. You know as well as I do she’s got her own reasons for wanting to get out of the Halls, that she was the only one I’d trust, because of Tippy.”

“Then let us hope that the mothers of Hopesay Edge close every window tonight, Lissy.” Larkspur’s voice is like glass. “Let us hope that they bolt every door.”

“Are you coming or not?” I stalk towards the house, guilt giving way to anger. How could he possibly think I
wanted
this?

The front door opens before we even reach it. Joe stands there waiting, light pouring out from behind him, and another wave of pure guilt rolls over me. How much of his life has he wasted pining over me? I’m poison. I destroy everything I touch.

I swallow, hard. “Where’s my mum?” At last, at last.

Joe shakes his head. “They’re away.”

Cold disappointment rolls over me, crushing. I’ve waited so long to see Mum – so
long
– and now she’s not even here.

“Where’s Connie? I need to see her.” I can’t forget my terror the first time I touched the world of the Hidden, years ago, that early-summer night at a lonely countryside railway station, getting off at the wrong stop and finding Larkspur waiting for me. How confused Connie must be, and how frightened.

“In her room. She won’t speak to anyone, and I don’t blame her.” Joe steps back to let us past, and Larkspur visibly shudders as he stands in the hallway. There must be iron somewhere in the fabric of the front door – old nails, perhaps. It’s not the first time he’s been inside the Reach. In the back of my mind I still remember waking to find him sitting at the foot of my bed all those years ago.

Joe shuts the door, pushing home the bolt as if that could possibly keep out the evil waiting beyond the Reach. “Listen.” His voice is harsh with emotion: regret, sorrow, shame. “Lissy, your dad’s already here – Adam.”

And now I’m so cold with horror that I’m glad Larkspur speaks for me on this one occasion: “So, do the Fontevrault know the Hidden are free?”

Joe shrugs. “How should I know? Adam’s just as much of a liar as the rest of them. He’s not said anything about the Hidden or the Fontevrault, and he’s here alone. Said he came to see Connie. About an exam she was meant to take at school, and didn’t. That’s all.”

Relief floods through me, but Joe’s right. Adam could have been lying. Perhaps the Fontevrault already know the Hidden are loose and are waiting, hidden, ready to destroy them all?

“They’ll kill us.” Larkspur speaks with quiet finality. “Even if the Fontevrault find out my father is dead, they’ll still kill all the Hidden rather than risk the rest of the mortals discovering us.”

We need to see Adam now. He’s our best chance of persuading the rest of the Fontevrault that the Hidden aren’t a threat now the Swan King is dead. Connie will have to wait. “Where is he?” I whisper.

And Joe doesn’t answer; he just leads us into the sitting room, and the battered red sofas and the ancient oak panelling on the walls are exactly the same, still studded with carved wooden roses.
Mum
. I’ve waited so long to see her, and now she’s not even here. Joe crosses over to the far wall, pushing one of the wooden roses. With a gentle creak, a section of the panelling swings inwards, letting in a shaft of weak electric light that Larkspur recoils from. It’s so strange seeing him indoors, as if a wild red deer had just wandered into someone’s dining room. I want to comfort him somehow, he looks so wretched, but how can I when I’m the cause of his misery? Larkspur will never sit at his father’s side again, all because of me.

The familiar battered furniture hasn’t changed at all – it’s as if I’ve been gone five minutes, not six years, as if I might walk into the kitchen and find an eight-year-old Connie making chocolate Pop-Tarts, burning crumbs of sugary icing in the toaster. But the real Connie is in her bedroom. I imagine her trying to absorb the knowledge that her own parents have been lying to her for years, that they allowed her to think she was going mad rather than admit I was still alive, but a prisoner of the Hidden. And now I’m a murderer, too. Connie would be better off without having me for a sister.

“Do you live here now, Joe?” My voice sounds small and stupid, like I’m just a precocious ten-year-old making conversation at a cocktail party.

Joe jerks his head. “No.” As if it was the most idiotic question ever. “I never come here if I can help it.”

In hostile silence we follow him into what must be an old servants’ corridor, Larkspur leading the way, black cloak surging around his ankles. It’s a warren of dilapidated rooms out here with dusty windows and unlit passages home to stacks of broken chairs, piles of forgotten books and letters. No one ever comes here now, it’s clear – not until today – and I can’t help wondering how on earth Joe has managed to discover all this if he hardly ever comes to the Reach. He must have been shown the way by someone who knows this place far better than either of us, and I remember how Mum lived here alone with Miles when their parents were dead, and how Adam was Miles’s best friend, here almost every day, all those parties. It must have been a wild time – three teenagers with the run of an ancient manor house – a time of magic that turned into a nightmare when Miles opened the Gateway. We must be in the oldest part of the house now – the ceilings are so low that Larkspur and I can’t stand at our full height, and the few windows we pass are nothing but slits in thick walls built of old, old stone.