“There was a riot last night in Croft’s Cross. It started as a protest against the Crown and what little was being done to stop the Rot, but the guards turned it into a riot by the way they responded.” Sitting at the foot of my bed, Ezra dragged a hand down her face. She’d shown a little bit after breakfast was served, looking as if she had gotten even less sleep than I had. Shadows smudged the skin under her eyes. “Six were killed. Far less than anticipated—as terrible as that sounds. But many were injured. Fire destroyed a few homes and businesses. Some claiming that the guards set them.”
“I hadn’t heard.” Absently twisting my hair into a thick rope, I sank farther into the faded emerald cushions of the chair placed before the window. The view overlooked the Dark Elms, a place that seemed like a different world now. “Let me guess, the guards were acting on the Crown’s orders?”
“They were,” she noted, falling silent as she looked around my bedchamber. Her gaze drifted over the narrow wardrobe, the only other piece of furniture other than the chair I sat in, the bed, and the chest at the footboard. Books formed leaning towers against the wall since there were no shelves to display them. I had no trinkets or serving trollies, paintings of Maia, the Primal of Love, Beauty, and Fertility. Or Keella. Or lush settees providing ample seating. It was nothing like her or Tavius’s chambers. It used to get to me—the differences—even when I was the Maiden. Now, I was just used to it.
“But it’s not like they have no sense of autonomy or control over their actions,” Ezra continued. “There were other ways they could’ve handled the issue.”
This wasn’t the first protest to turn violent. Mostly, it was the response that always escalated the issue. Sometimes, it was the people, but I couldn’t fault them when it was clear they felt that peaceful demonstrations weren’t
capturing the Crown’s attention, and when too many of their family members and friends were jobless and starving.
“The guards could’ve handled it differently.” I watched the tops of the elms sway. Somewhere beyond those trees, the lake waited. My stomach twisted. Even thinking of it felt different now, and I wasn’t sure if that foretold something good or bad or nothing at all. “But I don’t think they care enough to try to deescalate the situation, and they probably did set the fire as a form of punishment or to somehow make the protestors appear as if they were in the wrong.”
“Unfortunately, I have to agree.” She paused. “I’m surprised you weren’t already aware of what happened or not in the thick of things.”
There was a strange catch in the next breath I took, and I twisted my hair even tighter. Two luminous silver eyes formed in my mind. I felt another twisting motion, this time lower in my belly. How could I explain what I’d been doing last night? Or even speak about it when my mind immediately made its way to how Ash’s skin had felt against mine. How his lips had felt, his fingers…
Show me.
I cleared my throat. “I was at the lake and lost track of time,” I offered up the lame half-lie. If I told her anything about last night, even the less- intimate details, she’d understandably have questions. I would, but I…I just didn’t want to talk about Ash or anything he’d shared with me. Everything felt too unreal. As if I started talking about it, tiny holes would appear, fracturing the whole memory.
I let go of my hair. “Did the Crown or its heir ever go out and check on their people last night? Try to assuage them? Listen to their concerns?”
Ezra’s laugh was dry. “Is that a serious question?” She shook her head as she fiddled with the lace along the collar of her pale blue gown. “Tavius was holed up in his room. Still is, having taken breakfast there. And the King plans to address the people at some point, to assure them that everything that can be, is being done.”
“How very timely of him.” Ezra snorted.
I let my cheek rest against the back of the chair and studied my stepsister, focusing on the shadows under her eyes. Without her saying as much, I knew she’d been out there last night with the people, helping
however she could. Just like she went out there, day after day. “You should be the heir,” I told her. “You would be a far better ruler than Tavius.”
She raised her brows. “That’s because anyone would be a better ruler than Tavius.”
“True,” I said softly. “But you would be a better ruler because you actually care about the people.”
Ezra smiled a little. “You care.”
How could I not, when the things happening to the people had been my destiny to stop? I bit back a sigh. “You know what will happen as the Rot continues to spread. How do you think Tavius will handle that?”
The curve of her lips faded. “We can only hope that day doesn’t come soon, or that he marries someone far more…” She frowned as she searched for the right word.
A kinder word than what came out of my mouth. “Far more intelligent?
Compassionate? Empathetic? Brave? Caring—?”
“Yes, all of those things.” She laughed as her gaze swept over me. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah?” My brows furrowed. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” She continued staring. “You just seem…off. Call it familial intuition.”
Familial? Sometimes, I forgot that we were family. I resisted the urge to squirm in my chair. “I think your familial intuition is a bit rusty.”
“Maybe.” She sat back, the curve returning to her lips, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I was going to head to Croft’s Cross to see how the repairs were going on some of the damaged businesses and homes, and then check in with the Healers to see if they needed assistance dealing with the injured. Care to join me?”
The fact that she’d asked warmed me. “Thank you,” I said, unfolding my legs from the chair. “But I was going to see if there were any leftovers in the kitchen and check in on the Coupers. I know both Penn and Amarys have been trying to find work since their lands are completely wasted now.” Ezra nodded slowly. “You know what I think?” she asked. “You are the
Queen the people of Lasania need.”
I laughed deeply and loudly, even though her voice had been as solemn as ever. That was something that could never and would never happen. I was still chuckling over that after Ezra left and I donned a plain brown skirt and a white blouse made of a thin cotton lawn. I could tell the heat would
be brutal today, and even I didn’t want to be wearing pants. Quickly braiding my hair, I sheathed a small knife with a wicked, serrated blade inside my boot and the iron blade to my thigh, then made my way to the west tower. The morning sun struggled to penetrate the tower as I navigated the sometimes-slippery steps to the floors below. I stepped out into one of the less-traveled halls. It had become a habit to move about in the empty corridors. There was less chance of becoming the focal point of curious stares from new servants who were not yet sure of who I was, and easier to avoid the way older servants who behaved as they’d been taught—to act as if they didn’t even see me. As if I truly were nothing more than a lost spirit. The lingering scent of fried meat permeated the air as I entered the kitchens. Servants fluttered between the workstations, either cleaning or prepping for later today. I veered to my right, toward the mountain of a man who was hacking away at a slab of beef as if it had delivered a vicious
insult to him and the entirety of his bloodline.
Which meant, he barely tolerated me. “Do you have anything for me?” I asked.
“Nothin’ that would be fit for even the hungriest of mouths,” Orlano replied gruffly, not even pausing in his swing.
I glanced around, eyes narrowing on the baskets of potatoes and greens stacked near the bushels of apples. “You sure about that?”
“All of what I know you be eyein’ is for tonight. Some fancy guests are expected.” His cleaver came down with a wet whack. “So no runnin’ off with any of that. Those needy mouths will have to fend for themselves.”
“They do fend for themselves,” I grumbled, wondering what guests were coming. It took me a moment to remember that there was an upcoming Rite. “And they’re still needy.”
“Ain’t my problem.” He wiped a hand across the front of his apron. “Ain’t your problem.”
“You sure about that?” I winced as the strips of beef he tossed into a bowl landed with a wet smack. “Maybe it’s the King and Queen’s problem.”
His cleaver froze mid-air as he turned his head toward me. His dark eyes narrowed under graying brows. “Don’t you be sayin’ stuff like that around me when even these damn pots and pans have eyes and ears. Not like I’m not disposable.”
I could never tell if Orlano suspected who I was, but sometimes, like now, I thought he just might know that I was the failed Chosen and the Princess. “King Ernald loves your pastries and how you cook the roast,” I told him. “You are probably the least disposable person in this entire castle, including the Queen.”
Pride filled his eyes, even though he huffed. “Go on and get outta here. I need those gals back there peelin’ apples instead of starin’ at you and prayin’.”
The corners of my lips turned down as I looked over to the bushels. Two younger servants in white blouses starched to the point where they could stand on their own, watched the cook and me nervously. The peelers in their hands were motionless, unlike their lips. Huh. They really did look like they were praying. The gods only knew what kind of rumor they’d heard that had led to this.
“All right.” I pushed off the counter.
“There’s some bruised apples and potatoes that are close to goin’ bad by the ovens.” Orlano returned to the hunk of meat. “You can have ‘em.”
“You’re the best, you know that?” I said. “Thank you.” His face flamed red. “Get outta here.”
Laughing under my breath, I scooted around him. I quickly transferred the food into one burlap sack and then made my way toward the large, rounded doorways. I made sure to hurry past the bushels and the two servants.
My steps slowed as I looked over at them. “Be careful how hard you pray. A god or a Primal just might answer.”
One of them dropped their peeler. “Girl!” Orlano shouted.
Sending the two females a wink, I got my butt out of the kitchen before Orlano tossed me out of it. The good mood didn’t last long when I made my way out into the early morning sun and saw the activity at the stables.
Damn.
Nobles from districts outside of Carsodonia had already begun arriving for the Rite, their carriages a sea of familial shields. The last thing the Crown needed to be doing was feeding families from all over the kingdom who had no problem feeding themselves.
This wouldn’t go over well with the people.
All the food that would be prepared over the next several days could go to those who needed it. But then the Crown wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense of stability—one that was cracking and showing signs of breaking. No number of fancy gowns or elaborate feasts could hide that.
 |
I climbed the dusty hill, the sack of apples and potatoes an unnaturally heavy burden in my arms, even though there was less than half left. The lack of sleep made each step feel like twenty, but still, despite everything, I grinned a little as the large oaks lining the dirt road blocked the glare of the morning sun.
Last night felt surreal, like a fevered dream, which seemed more plausible than spending a few hours beside the lake, speaking with a Shadowlands god—being touched by one. Pleasured by one.
Sweat dotted my brow as I reached up, tugging the hood of my blouse farther to shield my face from the sun. Ash. Warmth pooled low in my stomach. Thinking about his kisses, his touch, did very little to cool my already overheated skin, but it was far better than dwelling on the state of the kingdom or any of the other numerous things I could do nothing to change. Doing that only made me feel useless and guilty. But those kisses, the way he touched me, and what he said? They made me feel exhilarated and wanton and a dozen other different, maddening things. And there wasn’t even a hint of regret. I’d enjoyed myself…thoroughly, and I’d unexpectedly created a wealth of memories that would stay with me for however long.
There was a twinge of sadness, though, because it was over. And with each passing day that came, I knew those memories wouldn’t be as vivid and clear. They would become just like a faded dream. But I didn’t let it take hold. If I did, it would taint the memories, and I refused to allow that to happen. There were too few good ones as it was.
What Ash had said about not having a lot of experience when it came to debauchery returned for me to obsess over, which I’d already done a decent amount of. Could he have really been insinuating that he didn’t have a lot or any experience when it came to intimacy? That seemed impossible. He was
a god who was probably, at the very least, several hundred years old. And he seemed awfully good at kissing and touching for someone who didn’t. But…
He had asked me to show him what I wanted—what I liked. And I had.
Did it matter if I had lain with more than he had? Or if he had been with none at all? No. It just made me curious about him—his past and what he did when he wasn’t hunting gods or apparently keeping an eye on me. Had he never found someone he was attracted to? Or at least attracted enough to be with? Someone he had fallen in lust or even love with? And if so, how could I be the first? There had to be others who were more…well, more everything. Starting with, like, every single goddess.
Except Cressa.
Thoughts of Ash quickly faded to the background as the sun bathed me in its light, and I saw what awaited.
The Rot had spread.
My steps slowed as I looked over the trees to my right, and my stomach sank. The limbs of the jacaranda trees had once been heavy with trumpet- shaped purple blossoms. Now, they blanketed the ground, the blooms brown, their edges curled. Limbs bare, there was no mistaking the strange grayness of the Rot that now clung to the tree’s branches and trunk like moss.
The farmers had tried what they believed King Roderick had done. They’d spent day and night, weeks and months, digging and scraping, but the Rot was deep. And under it, a hard, rocky type of soil absent of the nutrients needed to grow crops.
A coldness drenched my chest as I stared at the Rot. The spread was definitely occurring faster. Even if the Primal of Death did come for me now, I wasn’t sure I could even make him fall in love with me in time.
Lasania didn’t have years.
I walked over, toeing aside a dead blossom with my boot until I saw what I already knew I’d see. The dirt itself had spoiled, turning gray.
“Gods,” I whispered, staring at the ruined ground. Breathe in. The breath I took snagged as the scent of the Rot reached me. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, exactly. It reminded me of…
Of stale lilacs.
Just how the Hunters had smelled. The same scent that had filled the air before Andreia Joanis sat up, dead but still moving.
It wasn’t my imagination. The Rot smelled the same.
I looked back at the city. Through the remaining trees, the Shadow Temple glittered darkly in the sunlight. Toward the center, the Sun Temple shone brightly. Both were almost painful to look upon. Farther back, Wayfair Castle rose high on the hill, and beyond the ivory towers, the Stroud Sea shimmered a deep blue. How long until the Rot reached the farms I’d passed and the city beyond? What would happen if it reached the Dark Elms and then the sea?
 |
When I came upon the Massey farm, I saw that only an acre of untainted land remained behind the stone home and the now-empty stables. Worse yet, the gray of the Rot was dangerously close to the leafy heads of cabbage not yet ready to be picked.
Holding my sack to my chest, I resisted the urge to run past the Massey home, to put distance between myself and the catastrophe waiting to happen. There was no point, though. My destination was far worse than this.
The creak of hinges drew my gaze to the home. Mrs. Massey stepped outside, a woven basket in hand. The moment she spotted me, she waved.
Shifting my load to one arm, I returned the gesture, riddled with guilt. Mrs. Massey had no idea that I could’ve stopped the devastation to her farm. If she did, I doubted she’d come outside to greet me. She would probably attempt to beat me over the head with that basket.
“Good morning,” I called out.
“Morning.” She drifted down the cracked stone of the walkway. The dirt clinging to the knees of her pants told me that she’d already been working what was left of the farm as Mr. Massey likely went to town. People like these were often up before anyone else and to bed after everyone else.
Tavius often referred to them as the lower class. Only someone not fit to rule would think of the backbone of the kingdom as such, but the heir was, well…an ass. Tavius held little respect for those who put the food on his plate, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the feelings were mutual. And if they
weren’t already, it was only a matter of time before they shared the same opinion.
“What brings you out here?” Mrs. Massey asked. “Did the Crown send you?”
She assumed I worked in the castle, believing the Crown offered the food I brought. I never gave her any indication to think otherwise. “I wanted to check in on the Coupers. I wasn’t sure if they knew about what’d happened last night in Croft’s Cross. With the damages to some of the buildings, I’m sure extra hands will be needed for repairs.”
Mrs. Massey nodded. “Such a terrible thing.” She rested the basket on a rounded hip as her gaze shifted in the direction of the city. “But I suppose the upcoming Rite will bring…some joy.”
I nodded. “I’m sure it will.”
“You know, I’ve never been to a Rite. Have you?”
“Haven’t had the opportunity,” I told her. It would be risky for me to show up there, especially when the Crown would be in attendance. But I was curious about all that occurred. “I’m sure it’s boring.”
The skin on her sun-darkened face creased as Mrs. Massey laughed. “You shouldn’t say that.”
I grinned, but my humor faded as my gaze skipped over the gray fields. “It’s spread since the last time I was here.”
“It has.” She brushed away a wayward curl that’d escaped the lace of the white cap she wore. “It seems to be moving faster. We’ll probably have to harvest before any of its ready. That’s our only option at this point since the blockade that Williamson built out of wood didn’t stop it like we’d hoped.” She gave a small shake of her head, and then a wan smile appeared. “I’m just glad our son found work on the ships. It gets to Williamson, you know? That his son won’t be following in his footsteps like Williamson did with his father before him. But there’s no future here.”
I held my sack tighter as my chest squeezed, wishing I knew what to say
—wishing there was something to say. Wishing I had been found worthy.
“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Massey laughed nervously, clearing her throat. “None of that is your concern.”
“No, it’s all right,” I told her. “There’s no need to apologize.”
She exhaled roughly as she stared at her ruined farm. “You said you were visiting the Coupers?”
I nodded, glancing at what now felt like a sad sack of food. I’d already stopped at three other homes before coming here. “Do you need anything? I have apples and potatoes. There isn’t much, but—”
“Thank you. That is a kind offer and much appreciated,” she said, but her spine had gone straight, and her mouth tightened.
Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I realized that I might have offended her with such an offer. Many of the working class were proud people, not used to nor desiring what they sometimes saw as handouts. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were in need.”
“I know.” The press of her mouth softened a bit. “And I won’t be too proud to accept such generosity once that day comes. Fortunately, we are not there yet. The Coupers can benefit far more than we can. They haven’t been able to grow a single crop in far too long, no potato or bean.”
I glanced ahead to where the short, rolling hill shielded the Couper home from view. “Do you think Penn has already found another source of income?”
“Amarys was telling me the other day that they’ve both tried,” she said, her gaze fixed in the same direction. “But with the harvesters fleeing to other farms and the shops in the city, nothing has been available. I think they decided to wait it out. Hopefully, it’s not too late for Penn to see if some of the businesses need aid.”
There was a chance for Penn to find temporary work—for some good to come out of what’d happened in Croft’s Cross last night. I wanted to ask what the Masseys would do once their property became like the Coupers’. Would they hang onto their lands, believing that it would once again become fertile? Or would they leave the home and acres farmed by their families for centuries? The Masseys were older than the Coupers, but age wasn’t the issue. Other sources of income weren’t plentiful.
Something had to be done now, curse or not. This wasn’t the first time I’d thought that. It wasn’t even the hundredth.
Turning back to Mrs. Massey, I said my goodbyes and started toward the Coupers’. The potatoes and apples wouldn’t last them long, but it was something, and I was positive that I would have more than I could carry tomorrow. So much of the food being prepped now would go untouched by the guests.
The dead trees had long since fallen and had been cleared away, but it was still a shock to reach the hill and see nothing but what looked like a
fine layer of ash.
By the time the Couper home came into view, I’d expected to hear their daughter’s girlish laughter and their son’s happy shrieks, both too young to fully understand what was happening around them. The only sound was the dead grass crunching under my boots. As I grew closer to the home, I saw that the front door was cracked open.
I walked onto the stoop. “Penn?” I called out and nudged the door open with my hip. “Amarys?”
There was no answer.
Maybe they were out back in the barn. They did have a handful of chickens left, at least they had when I was here a few weeks ago. They could also be in the city. Maybe Penn had already thought to go to the shipping companies. Figuring I could leave the apples and potatoes in their kitchen, I pushed open the door the rest of the way.
The smell hit me right off.
It wasn’t the scent of Rot that sent my heart racing. This was thicker and turned my stomach, reminding me of meat left out to spoil.
My gaze swept the kitchen. Candles sat on the otherwise bare table, burned to the quick. The gas lanterns on the hearth mantel had long since gone out. The living area, a collection of chairs and worn settees, was also empty. Little balls and cloth dolls were neatly piled in a basket by the short hallway that led to the bedrooms.
I stared at the doorway, my fingers digging into the scratchy burlap.
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
My steps were slow as if I walked through water but they still carried me forward, even as the voice in my head whispered and then shouted for me to stop. Tiny bumps pimpled my skin as I entered the hall, and the smell…it choked me.
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
The door to my right was closed, but the one to the left wasn’t. There was a buzzing sound, a low hum that I should’ve recognized but couldn’t in the moment. I looked into the room.
What was left of the bag of apples and potatoes slipped from my suddenly numb fingers. I didn’t even hear it hit the floor.
The buzzing was from hundreds of flies. The smell was from…
The Coupers lay on the bed together. Penn and his wife, Amarys. Between them were their children. Donovan and…and little Mattie. Beside
Penn was an empty vial, the kind the Healers often used to mix medicines in. I imagined they’d shared the bed like this many times in the past, reading stories to their children or just enjoying their time together.
But they weren’t sleeping. I knew that. I knew the only life in that room was the godsforsaken flies. I knew that other than the insects, life hadn’t been in this house for quite some time. And that was why my gift hadn’t alerted me to what I was about to find. There was nothing I nor anyone else, mortal or god, could do at this point. It was far too late.
They were dead.
