Page 42 of In the Ravenous Dark
The sight makes my head drop back onto the pillows. Maybe it’s the futility of trying to escape him. Once again he knocked me unconscious with a brush of his finger. I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t hurt me.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he says quietly. “But it will be, over and over again, until you can control yourself.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. A tear leaks out. Because he’s right. As many pathways as I now have, branching in my mind like a tree—athousandtrees in a forest—he still holds this strange power over me.Why? How?No matter the cause, it’s a leash.
My father possessed this strength, but he was as trapped as I am. And now he’s dead, and it’s my fault. Not because I received the bloodline. Crisea was right—I should have kept my head down. I’ll never regret saving Bethea, but I was foolish enough to get drunk and climb on top of the gazebo with her in the first place. And then I pushed my father to a breaking point by resenting him for the life he had no choice but to live these past twelve years. I as good as accused him of being one of the enemy, and forced him to prove he wasn’t. I don’t know what the king said to finally shove him over the edge, but it doesn’t matter. My father stood up to him because of me. And now my father is gone, and I’m in his place, in his prison, with his bloodline, and with his guardian.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t win free of the dead man. My father never figured out how, but he told me to follow in his footsteps. Maybe there’s a way out of this. If there is, I’ll find it.
This, I silently vow.
“If youcanmanage to control yourself, you can get up and move about as normal,” the dead man says. “You can do whatever you want, and I won’t stop you. As long as you don’t try to harm anyone else, or destroy anything significant, let’s say.”
“So burning down the palace is out of the question?” I murmur behind closed lids. He’ll expect me to put up a show of resisting, at least at first.
“Most definitely. Splinter as many chairs as you like, as long as no one is nearby.”
These chairs probably took some craftsperson days to make. The fact that the dead man doesn’t seem to care about them makes me care all the more. I would be like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum.
“I’ll just stay here,” I say, without opening my eyes. I need these people—the dead man, the royals—to forget about me, to leave me alone for as long as possible. I need to figure out what footsteps my father meant, find my mother, and flee this place—flee Kineas. Where I’ll go after that, I have no idea. Especially not if Skyllea is no longer an option. But I’ll figure that out later.
I prefer the blight to Kineas, frankly.
“About that,” the dead man says, almost reluctantly. “There are those eager to see you up and around as the crown prince’s newly betrothed and now one of the most powerful bloodlines in the polis. You need to heal from this process, so you have some time to rest, but you can’t hide for long.”
Idoopen my eyes at that, and I feel my face split into a horrible grin. “Of course, my social engagements, where I’ll be made to dance for the amusement of others. My father’s death must not be enough to excuse me. Whatever shall I do to make amends?” My voice has taken on a shrill, broken note. “How long?” I ask. “Until the wedding.”
He hesitates. “One month. That’s part of the rush.”
One month until I’m bound to yet another monster. Except this one will be worse than the one sitting next to me. More tears leak from the corners of my eyes. “Just leave me alone.”
“I can do that, but only if you promise not to act out.”
“What am I, a child?”
“Sometimes you behave like one.”
For a moment, rage blinds me, but then it occurs to me that he might be testing me. I take a long breath out through my nose, my jaw locked. I grate out the words, “I promise.”
“Thank you,” the shade says. There’s a heavy silence, and I wonder if he’s going to speak again. I want him togo. But then I hear him say, “I meant what I said earlier, at the ball. We each have something the other wants. If—”
“Get,” I enunciate slowly, “out.”
The dead man vanishes without another word. Maybe he’s telling the truth, but in the moment I can’t care. He as good as led my father to the executioner’s block. Even if he can help me, I spit on his help. I’ll find my own way.
The way to be free of him.
I can’t let him realize what I’m up to, of course, and so I’ll need to do a better job of pretending to cooperate. And soon, I’ll try discovering some answers for myself, startingwheremy father told me to follow in his footsteps.
For now, I roll over in bed and weep until exhaustion takes me.
At some point, lying in bed, I feel arms come around me. I almost think I’m dreaming the sensation, but all my dreams have been nightmares. This is too nice. For a moment in the darkness, I think it’s my mother, comforting me like she used to, but the skin is too firm and as smooth as silk, where my mother’s had been yielding and rough. And then I smell the perfume, and I recognize the voice near my ear.
“You don’t have to say anything. Anything at all,” Lydea whispers. “But I know what you’re feeling. And I’m here for you.”
I don’t respond, and I soon fall back asleep in the sweet circle of those red-streaked arms, stained in her mother’s blood. When I next awake, the princess is gone.
But she was real. As real as she has ever been, and I won’t forget it.
