Page 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

G uards chase me through the halls.

My bare feet pound against the cold marble floors, leaving a trail of muddy footprints in my wake. The once white gown is now stained and ripped, the length of it getting caught in my legs as I run. Usually, I beat Bel in every race, but these guards are gaining on me. They are close enough that a hand brushes my shoulder when one of them reaches for me.

A familiar voice echoes from the dining hall. I use the last of my strength to charge toward it, praying to the Fates I make it before these guards catch me. My tiny hands push against the grand oak doors, spreading them wide and revealing a small group of people seated at the large table. Every eye in the room immediately turns toward me.

My father sits in his usual spot at the head of the table. The shock on his face is quickly replaced by rage. An unfamiliar man sits across from him at the other end of the table, watching me curiously. In one of the middle chairs, a pretty lady clutches her chest as her worried eyes scan my dirty frame. Relief nearly knocks me over as I spot the person sitting next to her.

Bellamy.

My brother is frozen, staring at me with a mixture of joy and horror. I peer down, taking in my mud-soaked dress. No doubt my face looks the same as his. I open my mouth to say something right as a firm hand grips me from behind and lifts me into the air.

“Release her!” Bel shouts, rising from his seat. “Release my sister!”

With his free hand, the guard reaches for his weapon.

“Doral,” the other man at the table says, the one I don’t recognize.

His dark blue eyes watch me intensely as the guard, Doral, sets me down. I don’t have a moment to ask what’s going on before I’m swept into Bellamy’s arms.

“Ivy!” he cries, clutching me to his chest.

I lean into the warmth of his body, suddenly realizing how cold I am. Shivers rack my small frame as he runs his hands over my arms.

“How?” he asks, his tone full of wonder. “How are you ? —”

The sound of a scuffle cuts him off. A moment later Clara sprints into the room, her blonde ringlets in disarray. She ignores my father and his guests completely, the first lapse in decorum I’ve ever seen from my young governess. Tears stream down her pretty face as her gaze lands on me. I throw myself at her, and she wraps me in her warm embrace.

“My girl,” she whispers as her hands run over my limbs, searching for injuries. “My sweet girl.”

In this moment, all I want is for her to carry me upstairs and tuck me safely into my bed. I won’t even complain when she recites her morbid bedtime tale. She always repeats the same story, insisting the stars that shine the brightest actually died a long time ago. She says their light is nothing but the last remnants of their souls desperately clinging to life, racing through the galaxy as they try to outrun Death. And once that light goes out, their memory is erased from the night sky and they are forgotten. As if they never existed at all. But not if we remember them in our dreams and carry their light in our hearts during the waking hours. Then it’s as if they never left us. And that’s true immortality, she always whispers as she ends the odd story.

Bel kneels next to us as he and Clara exchange a meaningful glance, something they do often. They always think I don’t notice.

A chair scrapes against the hardwood as someone rises from the table.

The man. The one Doral obeyed.

“What do we have here?” he asks, moving closer as he continues to study me. His pale blond hair touches his shoulders, framing his handsome features.

“Your Majesty,” my father interrupts, speaking for the first time since I crashed into the room. “This is merely some little village chit. An impostor.”

I push myself deeper into Clara’s embrace as his words at the lake echo through my mind. “You’re an abomination,” he’d said. “I should have done this the night your whore mother brought you into the world. Die, you wretched beast!”

My lip quivers. I can’t remember what happened after I sunk to the bottom of the lake. I thought I saw my brother swimming toward me as I closed my eyes, but when I woke up, I was alone. I was trapped somewhere new. Dirt was everywhere, filling my mouth and choking me.

An awful sound bursts out of me as tears slip down my cheeks, prompting Bellamy to lean closer. He wraps his arms around me and Clara, as if he can shield us from whatever comes.

“Silence,” the man commands my father before kneeling in front of me, bringing us eye level. He ignores Clara and Bel, keeping his focus solely on me.

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“My name is Baylor.” He smiles as my eyes turn round. “I see you’ve heard of me? Your father kindly allowed my wife and me to stay here while traveling home from the north.”

My gaze quickly flashes to the pretty dark-haired woman at the table. Her eyes are sad as she watches us, and I want to ask her why, but the king keeps speaking.

“We were sorry to hear of your accident at the lake, Lady Iverson.”

“It wasn’t an accident.” My hands cover my mouth as the words slip free. My eyes flash to my father, finding him glaring at me with a red face.

“What is she talking about?” Bellamy demands, moving away from us to confront our father.

“She’s letting her imagination run away with her, as usual,” Lord Pomeroy spares his son a withering glare.

“Enough.” The king’s stern voice brings silence to the room.

He turns his cold stare on Clara until she finally releases me, taking a few steps back. Without her arms around me, the room becomes much colder.

“What happened to you, Iverson?” he asks.

I tremble under his gaze. “I went to sleep in the pond, but when I woke up, I was in a wooden box underground,” I whisper, too scared to tell him how my father held me under the water. I keep my eyes down, focusing on the dirt caked under my fingernails. “I had to dig my way out.”

“Blessed Fates,” the queen murmurs as her face pales.

The king says something to my father, but I’m too distracted by the queen to hear him. When he turns back to me, there’s a strange expression on his face. Everyone else in the room is either shocked or horrified, but not him. He almost appears… gleeful. As if I’m the answer to a problem I didn’t even know existed. Something about the gleam in his eyes has me taking a step back.

“Clara.” I reach for her, and she returns to my side in an instant, hugging me close again as Bel steps up beside us.

“My sister needs rest,” he announces. “If you’ll excuse us.”

We head for the door, but as if they are acting on a silent signal, the guards move as one to block our path.

“Get out of our way,” Bellamy demands, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard it.

Something pulls my attention back to the king, where I find him addressing my father.

“The girl is coming with me, Nigel,” he says, making my heart drop into my stomach. “And I think it would be best if there were no witnesses. Obviously, you and your boy are spared from that. So long as you comply.”

I look to my father, not understanding what the king means. Witnesses for what? Bellamy moves to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the others.

“Baylor, please — ” The queen’s voice reaches my ears.

“This doesn’t concern you, woman,” her husband answers. “Guards.”

Soldiers move toward us, ripping Bel and Clara away from me. My back presses into the wall, where I try to make myself as small as possible.

“Let go of her!” Bel screams as Clara pushes back against the guards.

“Shut up, boy!” my father shouts. “You will only make this harder on yourself.”

As the struggle continues, my gaze connects with the queen’s again. She’s frozen in her chair, eyes wide as she watches the horror unfold. A soldier stands next to her, his hand on her shoulder, as if to keep her in her seat. A tear leaks from one of her eyes, dripping down her pale cheek.

“No!” Clara’s shout pulls my attention from the queen as one of the soldiers bashes the hilt of his sword over Bel’s head. My brother’s eyes roll back in his head, and he falls to the floor, unmoving.

Clara’s fearful gaze finds mine as the guards drag her from the room. “Run! Ivy, run!”

I start toward the door, but the king is in front of me again.

“Shh.” He reaches out, brushing away the tears that stream down my face. “Don’t be frightened, child.”

I nod, wanting to make him happy, but I am terrified. A hiccup rises in my throat, and I accidentally disappear. My face squinches from the pain of the illusion settling over my skin like thousands of tiny needles pricking me all at once. I only developed my abilities a few months ago, and Bel always teases me for having no control over them.

“A wraith ,” the king whispers, his eyes wide as a genuine smile lights up his face. “Even more unique than I realized.”

I try to hold on to the illusion, but it slips away, leaving me vulnerable. I turn toward my father, my desperate eyes begging him to intervene, but he does nothing. A scream tears from my throat as the king reaches out, lifting me into his arms with ease.

“It’s alright, child.” He rubs his hand against my back, trying to soothe me. “I mean you no harm.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning into the crook of his neck as tears stream down my cheeks. Chairs scratch against the floor as people rise from the table, but I don’t look up as we exit the room and make our way through the halls.

“You are going to come live with me for a while,” the king murmurs into my ear, his soft voice hypnotizing. “Doesn’t that sound nice? Living in a palace like a princess?”

“I don’t want to go,” I protest, my voice trembling. “I want to stay with Bel and Clara.”

He ignores my request as he continues to whisper calming words. Despite my fear, I find my eyes drifting shut. I don’t want to leave, but I’m so tired. It’s as if I’m back in the lake, giving up once again. It’s hard to keep fighting when everyone is stronger than me.

We’re passing through the front doors when the screaming starts.

I lift my head, searching for the source of the frantic cries, but the king keeps walking and the guards around us don’t react. I find the queen’s gaze again, seeing anger warring with her heartbreak.

Whatever’s happening in there sounds horrific, yet no one is doing anything. I don’t understand any of this as we continue out front to find a carriage waiting. The king loads us inside, positioning me in his lap while the queen sits across from us. As soon as the doors are shut, the carriage takes off. I wobble as the movement jostles me. Twisting my neck, I peek out the window and get my final glimpse of the only home I’ve ever known.

The screams follow us all the way down the drive, so loud I’m sure I will never stop hearing them.

My eyes shoot open as the dream fades.

I find myself in my bed at the palace, lying on my side facing the window. Morning light sneaks past the gaps in the curtains, not quite reaching me. It’s been a while since I dreamed about that night. Over the years, the truth of it became buried in my mind as I convinced myself it was more nightmare than memory. Nothing but the dramatic imaginings of a lonely child.

At the time, I didn’t understand most of what happened. I was weak and tired, barely staying upright on my own. And after all, Baylor was kind to me. He spoke softly, treating me like something precious. Somewhere in my subconscious, I think I knew I couldn’t afford to hate him. So, I hid the truth, lying to myself the way I do with everyone else.

It wasn’t until recently that I realized that Clara and the other servants had fled for their lives like the desperate stars she talked about. But death gave chase in the form of soldiers, creeping ever closer until their lights were snuffed out. Forgotten.

Their lives were erased just as easily as the events of that night.

But the rumors lived on. I’m not sure where they started, but someone began telling tales of the little wraith who clawed out of her own grave. When asked, most brush it off, claiming they don’t believe the story. But their lies are as evident as the fear on their faces when I glance in their direction.

I close my eyes, wanting to relive the dream again and punish myself a bit more with painful memories. Just as the stars were cursed to die, I’m cursed to be the only one who remembers the way they once shined.

I’ve just begun to slip away when the bed dips behind me. My hand skates over the silk sheets, slipping under the pillow where my dagger hides.

“Careful, pet,” a familiar voice admonishes me.

My eyes snap open as his hand presses against my stomach, pulling me into his hard chest. His face nuzzles my neck as he nips at my ear with his sharp teeth.

“Good morning, fiancée .”