Page 37 of Thorn Season
His skin was raw, aflame in its own rebellion, crisscrossed with welts from where he never stopped scratching.
Because inking the space above my father’s heart, like a stamp declaring ownership, was the Hunters’ Mark.
“I couldn’t bear for you to know.” His face webbed out with agonylines. “For you to look at me as you are looking at me now.” He whispered, with so much sorrow that I felt the words branding my memory, “I cannot lose you, too.”
My specter slackened, the pain weighing me down. After a lifetime of toe-dipping into the acid of my guilt, I finally felt myself tip fully into its depths.
I hadn’t survived this long because of the blind fortune of my lineage. I’d survived on the time stolen from other Wielders—on the minutes of their lives, trickling into mine.
Because every life Father had taken, he’d given to me.
I could never repay the debt he’d amassed in my name. But I could keep it from growing.
“I’m joining court for Rose Season,” I said. Father shot up but I continued, “I will retrieve the compass from these copycats—”
“Alissa—”
“—and I will finally be safe.”
The finality of my tone made Father flinch.
“It’s too dangerous.” He dared a step closer. “Please. I can’t protect you there.”
A vicious coldness crept over me as I met my father’s eyes. “You can’t protect me anywhere,” I said. “You couldn’t even protect her.”
The sun crested, and in the glittering morning light, roses arrived alongside a silver card. Boldly inscribed were the words:
We didn’t finish our conversation.
Soon.
—E
I bundled King Erik’s roses for disposal with last night’s gown. I touched the corseted waist, which Erik had gripped in his cold hand.The now-filthy hem, which had glided across the marble untrampled—because the other nobles hadn’t dared to encroach upon our privacy.
Garret was right; I’d always thrived at court. But now the courtiers would pay me a new degree of respect. Wouldgratifyme, more than they even gratified my father. Erik’s interest—however unwanted—had made me the perfect choice for Garret’s mission. If a noblehadstolen the Hunters’ compass, if theywereat court this season... nobody was better equipped to root them out than me.
Yet an anxious sweat broke over me at the thought. I’d been wary of joining court as one of the faceless horde of nobles. But to be actively mining for information about the compass while all eyes were already fixed upon me...
I’d spent eighteen years painfully concealing my specter. And now I would be putting myself in more danger of exposure than ever before.
But to protect Daradon’s Wielders—and truly protect my future—I had to find the compass before anyone else.
Including Garret.
So, as I’d done all my life, I smothered the hum of my fear. I forced my trembling fingers to steady as I burned the king’s note above a candle flame.What’s to stop Erik from punishing your father with the rest of us?Garret had asked.
I believed I knew the answer.
As my world fought desperately to fall apart, I held the pieces together. And two days later, I left Vereen without looking back.
12
Iran shaky hands down my gown, then cursed myself for the mistake. Showing nerves was to show weakness.
And standing atop this staircase—alone for the first time—I couldn’t afford to look weak.
A confectionery shop had spilled its bounty across the ballroom today. Caramel-spun towers bursting with cream puffs. Candy pearls dripping from chandeliers. Glacé fruits and syrupy sunlight and powdered sugar in the air. Servers weaved between partygoers, carrying potted desserts that would’ve made Father anxious.What do we do with the pots when we finish?I imagined him saying.Put them in our pockets?
