Page 53 of Malice

“It wasn’t just that I saw her.” I shut my eyes at the image of my bones morphing into hers. Of the feeling of otherness inside my skin. “Iwasher. She became me somehow—or I her.”

Kal grips my elbows in his strong, cold hands. Bracing me. Darkness cocoons us both, veiling the rest of the room. “The people you will curse—are they innocent?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“And how many of them have come to you for their own desires, uncaring how it affected you? That it enslaved you?”

My chest tightens. “Too many to count.”

“This arrangement with the Briar King is a means to an end, Alyce. It may not be pleasant, but it is your way out. And I vow to you—whatever happens, I am your ally. Your own kind. You are not alone.”

Heat replaces the frozen current of my blood. I lean in, clasping my arms around his neck and pulling him close.

“Thank you.”

I stay at the black tower until dawn blushes against the whitecaps. Autumn has fully spread its roots, an undoubtedly harsh winter soon to follow. I make it back to Lavender House in time to change my dress and prepare for the day.

And the first thing I do is curse the king’s chalice and send it to the palace.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When I break the seal on my schedule a few days later and find an appointment with Mistress Nightingale booked for late in the evening, anticipation buzzes through me. Given how determined she was to attempt the summoning ritual, I thought Aurora would have returned by now. But her duties at the palace must have kept her away. And it doesn’t matter now. She’s coming.

Slogging my way through the other appointments is torture. I busy myself with small things in between each patron—feeding Callow and updating my notes. But no matter how much I will the time to pass, the hours ooze slowly along like honey in winter.

And so it’s particularly frustrating when the princess is late.

First a half hour. Then an hour. Delphine is growing angrier by the minute, I’m sure. She’ll want to be getting home before the weather changes. Briar’s infamous autumnal storms have begun lumbering in from the sea, making the Lair even more unpleasant than usual. The wind barrels down the chimney and sends embers skittering across the floor. The stale air is saturated with the stink of mold, and a thin layer of silty grime coats every surface.

With every rumble of thunder, my mind devises a new reason behind Aurora’s tardiness: Someone found out about our meetings. She’s ill or got lost in the storm. Or, my vicious thoughts keep circling back to what must be the truth—she’s grown bored of me. I was an amusing distraction, but my novelty has worn off. Exactly as I knew it would.

My bell rings.

I’m at the door in two heartbeats, and Aurora hurries in, pulling her scarf from around her face and slamming the door behind her against the gales. I’m so relieved I’m nearly dizzy, scolding myself for thinking the worst of her. And then, more than that, for even caring what Aurora thought. I’m letting her get too close. But I have no idea how to push her away.

“I’m sorry,” she says, dumping her sack of books on the worktable. “My mother insisted I dine with her tonight. And then she refused to let me go, wanting to discuss thenew developments.”

“New developments?”

She’s soaked to the bone and I fetch a blanket for her. She slumps into a chair in front of the hearth. “A suitor.” She rolls her eyes, wringing out her hair. “Elias, a younger son of Ryna.”

“Ryna.” The kingdom directly above the island of Cardon—where Corinne had come from and broken Eva’s curse before they…I wrench my thoughts away from the Crimson Cliffs and the broken bodies beneath the sea. “Ryna specializes in…silk production?”

“I’m surprised you know that.” Aurora feeds a few dried beetles to Callow, stroking the kestrel’s snowy breast. “Silk and astronomy, apparently. Some of their scholars compared the star charts from the night I was born to the prince’s. And it’s a match.”

I dislike him immediately. “What does that mean?”

“Dragon knows.” Aurora groans. “But most of all it means that he will be coming here. Mother is sure he’s the one.”

Dislike sharpens to hatred.

“But you’re not.”

“I don’t particularly care.” But the angle of her shoulders tells a different story. “Elias was extended a royal invitation years ago, but he refused. Now that the stars have spoken, his parents are forcing him to come. But I wager he wants to make the journey about as much as I want his slimy lips on mine.”

I throw a handful of peppermint leaves and cinnamon cloves into a mug to make her a tincture. “You don’t know that they’re slimy.”

“They’re all slimy.” She scoots closer to the fire. “All the more reason to break the curse myself. Send the star-chosen prince right back to his scholars and his silk trade. Have you collected what we need for the summoning ritual?”