Page 21 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
“It’s a person!” Rose answered.
Questions came in rapid fire after that.
“Is it a trap?”
“Are they holding her hostage?”
“Can you see a weapon?”
“What’s our plan?”
“Should we go—”
“Wait.” Julia rode a few lengths to the side to get another view, as eager as the rest to disobey orders. “No,” she called to the others, finally getting a good glimpse of the unexpected passenger. “Hold your positions.” She breathed out with relief, wondering how on earth Bristol had managed this, and then, with the next breath, worried what it might have cost her.
Da Vinci. The name clouded Bristol’s thoughts, pressing down like a heavy sky on a windless day.Da Vinci. Her father’s find of the century. Anyone’s find of the century. But did he reallyfindit, as he claimed, or was it a deal that cost him something? Something dear. Did he have to sell part of his soul to get it?
That’s how Bristol felt now. Like a gash had sliced through her middle, her insides torn away. Like she had traded part of her soul for the deal of the century. And that deal rode behind her now, a deal more valuable to the twelve kingdoms of Elphame than any da Vinci.
I promise.
I promise if you give me Cael, I will go home.
I’ll take Father with me, and we’ll go back to Cat and Harper.
Today. But you have to give me something now. I won’t get another chance.
She sold it to her mother. Sold it like there was no tomorrow. Every word curdled in her stomach as she said it, like she was using a Keats strategy against her own mother. And it worked. She sold her mother a dream.
Bristol felt the slight shift of hands at her waist. “Make a move for my knife, and I’ll throw you off my horse.”
“My brother’s horse. You think I don’t know that? Did you . . . kill him? No one else rides this beast.”
Cael’s words were slurred like he was drunk. Or maybe slightly delirious. He was so weak he could barely hold on to her. She wasn’t too concerned about him grabbing her knife out of its sheath. A quick jabbing elbow would send him tumbling. As it was, she had to proceed at a snail’s pace so he wouldn’t fall off. He already had once, which cost him a split lip, and getting him back up on August was no small feat. She couldn’t levitate something that big. Cheese puffs were her forte, not large men. And he was large—like Tyghan—though at this point, thin. His cheeks were hollowed out, and he barely resembled his robust portrait in the foyer of the palace.
He still wore the collar that prevented him from using magic, so he was useless in that regard too. Her mother had refused to remove it, saying it would give his sorcerers something to occupy their time. Bristol teetered between sympathy for his pathetic state and complete loathing for who he was and what he had done. His lack of empathy for her mother was fire inside her, like the burning goblin brew that made her choke. How different all of their lives might have been if he had been the one who stopped to help her mother instead of Kormick. And if her father could have pursued his art instead of being laughed out of—
“You didn’t answer me. How did you get his horse?”
His inane mumblings were driving her mad. “I already told you—” “I don’t believe a word from your lying mouth. Another trick, that’s all I see, and that monster has had an endless supply of them. A real Danu knight would have respect for me as their sovereign. They wouldn’t—”
“Shut up!” she ordered, sick of his arrogance. “I don’t have a shred of respect for you at all. You’re a game piece on a board, and not even a useful one at that, and I am removing you from play to make our other moves easier. That’sit. There, does that clear things up for you?” God, why did she end with a question when she didn’t want him to say one more word?
By the mercy of one of their many gods, he remained silent.
For a full minute.
“Why do you hate me?” he asked. His words were still weak but clear, like he had carefully composed them.
“It doesn’t matter,” she answered. “All that matters is I’m taking you home.” He didn’t know she was Maire’s daughter, and it was best to leave it that way.
“It matters when the first face I’ve seen in months doesn’t belong to the enemy. Or are you?”
She wished he were still delirious. Maybe the fresh air was shaking his brain alive again. She didn’t answer, hoping he would grow foggy once more.
Cael sighed. “Fine. Have it your way. Don’t speak to me. But thank you,ifyou’re truly rescuing me.”
If.
