Hawke quickly ushered Tawny and me back inside the castle, while Vikter moved to talk to the Commander.
“Where in the world did that man get a Craven’s hand?” Tawny asked, the skin around her mouth tight as we walked past the Great Hall and under the banners.
“He could’ve been outside the Rise and cut it off one of those who was killed last night,” Hawke answered.
“That’s…” Tawny placed her hand to her chest. “I really have no words for that.”
Neither did I, but the appendage might have been from a cursed who’d turned inside the Rise. I kept that to myself as we passed several servants. “I can’t believe he said what he did about the children—the third and fourth sons and daughters.”
“Neither can I,” Tawny said.
What a terrible thing to claim. Those children, many who were adults by now, were in the Temples, serving the gods. While I didn’t agree with there being no exceptions, insinuating that they were being stolen as if done for nefarious purposes was outrageous. There only needed to be a few words spoken for them to behave like an infection, tainting a person’s mind. I didn’t even want to imagine what the parents of those children were now thinking.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if more people thought along those same lines,” Hawke commented, and both Tawny and my heads swiveled in his direction. He walked beside me, only a step behind. He raised his brows. “None of those children have been seen.”
“They’ve been seen by the Priests and Priestesses and the Ascended,” Tawny corrected.
“But not by family.” His gaze flickered over the statues as we headed toward the stairs. “Perhaps if people could see their children every so often,
beliefs like that could easily be dismissed. Fears allayed.”
He had a point, but…
“No one should make claims like that without any evidence,” I argued. “All it does is cause unnecessary worry and panic—panic that the Descenters have created and then will exploit.”
“Agreed.” He glanced down. “Watch your step. Wouldn’t want you to continue with your new habit, Princess.”
“Tripping once isn’t a habit,” I shot back. “And if you agree, then why would you say you wouldn’t be surprised if more felt the same way?”
“Because agreeing doesn’t mean I don’t understand why some would think that,” he answered, and I snapped my mouth shut. “If the Ascended are truly concerned about those claims being believed, all they need to do is allow the children to be seen. I can’t imagine that would interfere too badly with their servitude to the gods.”
No.
I didn’t think that would.
Glancing at Tawny, I saw her staring at Hawke as we strode down the second-floor hall, headed toward the older portion of the castle. “What do you think?” I asked.
Tawny blinked as she looked over at me. “I think you are both saying the same thing.”
A half-grin formed on Hawke’s face, and I didn’t say anything as we climbed up the staircase. Hawke stopped us near Tawny’s door. “If you don’t mind, I need to speak to Penellaphe in private for a moment.”
My brows lifted behind the veil while Tawny sent a poorly concealed glance between us as the corners of her lips tilted up. She then waited for me to signal whether it was fine or not.
“It’s fine,” I told her.
Tawny nodded and then opened her door, stopping long enough to say, “If you need me, knock.” She paused. “Princess.”
I groaned.
Hawke chuckled. “I really do like her.” “I’m sure she’d love to hear that.”
“Would you love to hear that I really like you?” he asked.
My heart skipped a beat, but I ignored the stupid organ. “Would you be sad if I said no?”
“I’d be devastated.”
I snorted. “I’m sure.” We reached my door. “What did you need to talk about?”
He motioned to the room, and figuring what he had to say was something he didn’t want overheard, I went to open the door—
“I should enter first, Princess.” He easily side-stepped me.
“Why?” I frowned at his back. “Do you think someone could be waiting for me?”
“If the Dark One came for you once, he’ll come for you again.”
A chill danced down my spine as Hawke entered the room. Two oil lamps had been left burning by the door and bed, and wood had been added to the fireplace, casting the room in a soft, warm glow. I didn’t stare too long at the bed, which meant that I somehow ended up staring at Hawke’s broad back as he scanned the room. The edges of his hair brushed the collar of his tunic, and those strands looked so…soft. I hadn’t touched them that night at the Red Pearl, and I wished I had.
I needed help.
“Is it okay for me to enter?” I asked, clasping my hands together. “Or should I wait out here while you inspect under the bed for stray dust bunnies?”
Hawke looked over his shoulder. “It’s not dust bunnies I’m worried about. Steps, on the other hand? Yes.”
“Oh, my gods—”
“And the Dark One will keep coming until he has what he wants,” he said, looking away. I shivered. “Your room should always be checked before you enter it.”
I folded my arms over my chest, chilled despite the fire. I watched as he circled back to the door, quietly closing it.
Hawke faced me, one hand on the hilt of a short sword, and the flipping in my chest doubled. His face was so strikingly pieced together. From the wide set of his lips, the upward slant of his eyebrows, to the shadowy hollows under his high, broad cheekbones, he could’ve been the muse for the paintings that hung in the city’s Atheneum.
“Are you all right?” Hawke asked. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Something appeared to happen to you as the Duke addressed the people.”
I made a mental note to remember exactly how observant Hawke was. “I was…” I started to say that I’d been fine, but I knew he wouldn’t believe that. “I got a little dizzy. I guess I haven’t eaten enough today.”
His intense gaze tracked over what he could see of my face, and even with the veil, I felt unbearably exposed when he looked at me like he did then. “I hate this.”
“Hate what?” I asked, confused.
Hawke didn’t respond immediately. “I hate talking to the veil.”
“Oh.” Understanding rippled through me as I reached up and touched the length that hid my hair. “I imagine most people don’t enjoy it.”
“I can’t imagine you do.”
“I don’t,” I admitted and then glanced around the room as if I expected Priestess Analia to be hiding somewhere. “I mean, I’d prefer if people were able to see me.”
He tilted his head to the side. “What does it feel like?”
Air hitched in my throat. No one…no one had ever asked me that before, and while I had a lot of thoughts and feelings about the veil, I wasn’t sure how to put them into words even though I trusted Hawke.
Some things, once spoken, were given a life of their own.
I walked to one of the chairs and sat on the edge as I tried to figure out what to say. Suddenly, my brain sort of spit out the only thing that came to mind. “It feels suffocating.”
Hawke drew closer. “Then why do you wear it?”
“I didn’t realize I had a choice.” I looked up at him.
“You have a choice now.” He knelt in front of me. “It’s just you and me, walls, and a pathetically inadequate supply of furniture.”
My lips twitched.
“Do you wear your veil when you’re with Tawny?” he asked. I shook my head no.
“Then why are you wearing it now?”
“Because…I’m allowed to be without my veil with her.”
“I was told that you were supposed to be veiled at all times, even with those approved to see you.”
He was, of course, correct. Hawke arched a brow.
I sighed. “I don’t wear my veil when I’m in my room, and I don’t expect anyone to come in other than Tawny. And I don’t wear it then
because I feel…more in control. I can make—” “The choice not to wear it?” he finished for me.
Nodding, I was more than a little stunned that he’d nailed it. “You have a choice now.”
“I do.” But it was hard to explain that the veil also served as a barrier. With it, I remembered what I was, and the importance of that. Without it, well, it was easy to want…to simply want.
His gaze searched the veil, and a long moment passed. He then nodded and rose slowly. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
A strange lump formed in my throat, making it impossible for me to speak. I remained where I was as he left the room, staring at the closed door once he was gone. I didn’t move. I didn’t remove the veil. Not for a long time.
Not until I no longer wanted.
 |
The following evening, I stood outside the Duchess’s receiving room on the second floor. It was at the opposite end of the hall from the Duke’s, and I kept my back to his room. I didn’t want to see it, let alone think about it.
Two Royal Guards stood outside Jacinda’s room while Vikter waited beside me. I’d told him that morning what had really happened during the Duchess’s and Duke’s address to the people, and how I wasn’t sure if I had actually felt something or not. He suggested that I speak with the Duchess, since the Priestess was unlikely to give me any useful information, and the Duchess, depending on her mood, was more likely to speak openly.
I just hoped she was in a talkative mood.
Neither Vikter nor I spoke in the presence of the other Royal Guards, but I knew he was concerned over what I shared. About what it could mean if it was my gift evolving, or if it was my mind.
“It could just be the stress of everything that has happened,” he’d said. “It may be better to wait until you’re sure it is your gift before alerting anyone.”
I knew Vikter worried that if it was my mind, that it would somehow be held against me, but I didn’t want to wait until it happened again. I’d
rather know now if it was my gift or not so I could react better.
The door opened, and one of the Royal Guards stepped out. “Her Grace will see you now.”
Vikter remained outside as planned since knowledge of my gift was supposed to be limited to the Duke and Duchess and the Temple clergy.
I broke so many rules, it was no wonder that Hawke had seemed surprised when I wouldn’t remove my veil the night before. That’s what I was thinking as I walked into the receiving room. I filed those thoughts away as I looked around.
I’d always liked this room with its ivory walls and light gray furnishings. There was something peaceful about it, and it was also warm and inviting despite there being no windows. It had to be all the dazzling chandeliers. My gaze found the Duchess seated at a small, circular table where she was drinking from a small cup. Garbed in a gown of the palest yellow, she reminded me of spring in the capital.
She looked up, a slight smile on her ageless face. “Come. Have a seat.” Walking forward, I took the chair across from her, noting the plate of pastries. All that was left were the items with nuts. The chocolate scones were probably the first to be devoured. The Duchess had the same weakness
as Vikter.
“You wished to speak with me?” She placed the delicate, flowery cup on its matching saucer.
I nodded. “Yes. I know you’re very busy, but I was hoping that you’d be able to help me with something.”
Her head inclined, sending soft, russet-colored waves tumbling over her shoulder. “I must admit, you have me curious. I cannot remember the last time you came to me for assistance.”
I could. It was when I’d asked for my chambers to be moved to the older part of the castle, something I was sure she still didn’t quite understand. “I wanted to talk to you…” I drew in a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about my gift.”
There was a slight widening of her pitch-black eyes. “I was not expecting that to be a topic. Has someone discovered your gift?”
“No, Your Grace. That’s not at all what has happened.”
Picking up the napkin from her lap, she wiped her fingers. “What, then? Please, do not keep me in suspense.”
“I think something is happening with it,” I told her. “There have been a few situations where I…I believe I felt something other than pain.”
Slowly, she placed the napkin on the table. “You were using your gift? You know the gods have forbidden you to do so. Not until you have been found worthy of such a gift are you to use it.”
“I know. I haven’t,” I lied easily. Probably a little too easily. “But, sometimes, it just happens. When I’m in a large crowd, I have trouble controlling it.”
“Has this been discussed with the Priestess?”
Good gods, no. “It doesn’t happen often. I swear, and it has only happened recently. I will double my efforts to control it, but when it happened earlier, I think I…I think I felt something other than pain.”
The Duchess stared at me, unblinking for what felt like a small eternity, and then she rose from her seat. A little unnerved, I watched her go to the white cabinet against the wall. “What do you think you felt?”
“Anger,” I answered. “During the City Council and last night, I felt anger.” I wouldn’t speak of Loren. I wouldn’t do that to her. “It was that man who…”
“The Descenter?”
“Yes. At least, I think so,” I amended. “I think I was feeling anger from him.”
She poured a drink from a decanter. “Have you felt anything else that seems abnormal to you?”
“I…I think I’ve felt fear, too. When the Duke was speaking about the Craven attack. Terror is very similar to pain, but it feels different, and I thought that I might’ve felt something like…I don’t know. Excitement? Or anticipation.” I frowned. “Those two things are kind of the same thing, I suppose. In a way, at—”
“Do you feel anything now?” She turned to me, a glass of what I thought might be sherry in her hand.
I blinked from behind the veil. “You want me to use my gift on you?” She nodded.
“I thought—”
“It doesn’t matter what you thought,” she interrupted, and I stiffened. “I want you to use your gift now and tell me what, if anything, you feel.”
Despite finding her request more than strange, I did what she requested. I opened my senses, felt the cord stretch out between us, and…
and connect with nothing but vast emptiness. A shiver danced over my skin. “Do you feel anything, Penellaphe?”
Closing down the connection, I shook my head. “I don’t feel anything, Your Grace.”
The Duchess exhaled sharply through her nostrils, and then she downed her drink in one impressive gulp.
My eyes widened as my mind rapidly processed her reaction. It was almost as if she…expected me to feel something from her, but I’d never been able to. I didn’t think I ever would be able to.
“Good,” she breathed, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she turned back to the cabinet, placing the glass down.
“I was wondering if I was truly feeling something or…” I trailed off as she faced me.
“I believe your gift is…maturing,” she said, coming toward me. The bright light above her glittered off the obsidian ring on her finger as she gripped the back of the chair. “It would make sense that it would be happening as you’re nearing your Ascension.”
“So this…is normal?”
She clucked her tongue off the roof of her mouth. For a moment, it appeared as if she were about to say something, but then she changed her mind. “Yes, I do believe so, but I…I would not speak to His Grace about this.”
Tension crept into my shoulders at the thinly veiled warning. I was never sure if the Duchess knew about her husband’s…predilections. I couldn’t imagine how she could be completely blind to them, but there was a part of me that hoped she was. Because if she knew and did nothing to stop him, did it make her any better? Or was I even being fair to her? Just because she was an Ascended didn’t mean she held power over her husband.
“It would…remind him of the first Maiden,” she whispered.
Shocked, I stared up at her. I had not been expecting her to bring up the first Maiden, the one before me—the only other Maiden I knew of. “Did this…happen with the previous Maiden?”
“It did.” Her knuckles started to turn white, and I nodded. There had only been two Maidens Chosen by the gods. “What do you know about the first Maiden?”
“Nothing,” I admitted. “I don’t know her name or even when she lived.” Or what happened to her upon her Ascension.
Or why it mattered whether or not my developing gift reminded the Duke of her.
“There is a reason for that.”
There was? Priestess Analia had never told me anything. She ignored any questions about her or my Ascension.
“We do not speak of the first Maiden, Penellaphe,” she said. “It’s not that we simply choose not to. It is that we cannot.”
“The gods…forbade it?” I suspected.
She nodded as her stare seemed to penetrate my veil. “I will break the rule just once and pray that the gods forgive me, but I will tell you this in hopes that your future does not end the same as the first Maiden’s did.”
I had a really bad feeling about where this was going.
“We do not speak of her. Ever. Her name is not worthy of our lips nor the air we breathe. If it were possible, I’d have her name and her history scrubbed in its entirety.” The chair cracked under Duchess Teerman’s hand, startling me.
My heart nearly stopped in my chest. “Was she…found unworthy by the gods?”
“By some small miracle, she wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean she was worthy.”
If she hadn’t been found unworthy, then why was she never spoken about? Surely, she couldn’t have been that bad if she hadn’t been found unworthy.
“In the end, her worthiness didn’t matter.” Duchess Teerman lifted her fingers. The chair was warped, splintered. “Her actions put her on a path that ended with her death. The Dark One killed her.”
