Chapter 1
Ambrose
I was already walking across the frosted ground when the sun rose, my boots crunching, breath making clouds in the air. At the end of the stone walkway was a set of steps, and as I followed these down into the cold earth, I was aware of nothing more than the deafening beat of my heart.
Once in the dark, I lit a torch and carried it with me, through a stone tunnel that twisted and turned, and took me deeper under the world than any man should go.
At the end of the tunnel was a crypt, and here I stopped, sure and unsure and colder than I’d been in years.
Setting the torch in the wall bracket, I stepped inside and stared at the stone slab.
Memories flickered like ravens’ wings at the edge of my sight. I didn’t let them come any closer.
I saw his shadow first, a shadow that belonged to a giant. His hand on my shoulder, then his voice behind me, rough like gravel under boots.
‘You were banned from here long ago.’
I didn’t reply. He remembered that day as well as I did.
‘I’ll have to report it.’
That’s when I stepped away from his hand. Glancing over my shoulder to look at my brother, I merely shook my head, too tired to play this game. As I looked at him, I missed him, physically missed him.
‘Why this fixation?’ Thorne asked. ‘Why must you come here?’
I walked around the slab, running a finger over the smooth granite.
He folded his arms decisively. He was impatient, and always, always quick to anger.
‘He was weak, you were strong. There is nothing else. Stay away from this place, little brother. Don’t let it twist your head.’
I watched him walk up the steps and disappear, knowing he’d go straight to inform Ma of where I’d been. He was a simple man.
I stayed a moment longer looking at the grave, my father’s grave. Then, because this was where my nightmares waited for me and I could only face them for a few minutes at a time, I followed Thorne up into the daylight to await whatever punishment met me.
As evening neared, I slung my bow over my shoulder and struck out beyond the wall. Guards on watch duty saluted me as I passed, and I nodded before pushing myself into a run. Quickening my pace as the forest closed in around me, I breathed deeply, seeking the scent of game for hunting.
What I found instead was the smell of lavender soap.
Stopping dead in my tracks, I took another deep breath, mystified by the scent and where it could be coming from. Tracking it southeast brought me closer to the ocean, and then up into the canopy of the trees. Swinging up through the branches, I made it all the way to the top of a massive elm before finding a clear view of the sky.
And that was when I saw him.
A boy, slender in size, riding a glorious pegasis. The creature’s pelt was a perfect white, its wings blood red and stretching to infinity. I peered closely as they soared through the air, watching the twists and turns and swoops of legs and arms and wings.
As I gazed, I came to learn something about the boy in the sky. The winged horse he rode was moving in a way I’d seen less than a handful of times before. This was rider and mount reflected, the heart of a rider threading its way through the muscles of the animal. And in those muscles was an aggressive, aching fearlessness – an unnatural fearlessness. Those who could ride their pegasis without fear were the most formidable, the most terrifying. In a way, it was something to envy. In another, it was deeply repulsive, for to have no fear surely meant you’d lost a part of your soul, and that was the darkest fate a man could have.
I felt something strange then, watching the pegasis and rider. The connection between them was clearly unnatural, but there was a fragile beauty in it. Darkness unfurled from the heart of this boy, and it was the most intriguing thing I’d ever come across. I wanted to know him. Wanted to know what had made him like that, and what he was capable of because of it.
The two circled gracefully as the boy leant low over his mount’s back, whispering in its ear, stroking its mane. I was so mesmerised by the intimacy of it that it came to me as a jolt in my guts what I was actually looking at. The boy was Kayan – that much was obvious. Which left me only one path to tread.
Slowly, I drew my long bow from around my chest and nocked an arrow to it. Lining the boy up in my sights, I stretched the bow taut. Years of training had made my arms strong enough to use my enormous weapon. I didn’t want to hit the horse – it was too beautiful – although if I killed its rider it would undoubtedly die anyway.
I waited until the boy circled towards me, opening up his chest, and, without thinking enough to hesitate, let loose my arrow.
In that moment I realised how well trained the Kayan was. He heard the hiss of the arrow as it sailed through the air, and jerked sideways so that my shot whizzed straight past his neck, landing heavily in the pegasis’ wing. The flying horse let out a scream of pain and instantly began to struggle, flapping furiously.
I’d already nocked another arrow to my bow and let it loose. This time, because of the flailing creature he rode, the boy wasn’t able to dodge it completely – the arrow grazed his right arm, causing him to flinch. Using his knees, he turned his mount towards me and approached quickly. The pegasis wouldn’t be able to stay airborne for long – it was already angling down towards the canopy of trees. I didn’t have time to let off another shot before they were on top of me, the boy swinging his mighty sword at my head. I ducked and watched him come around again. This time, instead of moving out of the way I leapt at the boy, tackling him headlong off his horse and sending the two of us into the tree branches.
I gripped onto the Kayan as tightly as I could and we fell, hitting boughs and leaves and grazing ourselves against trunks, our descent slowed by the density of the branches. Finally, we slammed into the ground and I felt all the air flee my chest. My vision went black. When I dragged my eyes open again I was blindingly dizzy and my whole body throbbed. Heaving myself up, I saw that the boy was unconscious. I looked down at him, dazed in the sudden stillness of the forest. His face was odd – too fine, too … pretty. If he’d been born in Pirenti, he’d have been beaten every damn day of his life. His skin was a golden bronze colour, his hair underneath the cap a bright shade of blond. There was a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Belatedly, I realised I was staring, and felt for a pulse. Blood throbbed beneath his skin, strong and steady.
Wincing at the pain in my head, I stood and looked for the pegasis. It had landed close by, drawn to its rider, and was staring at me. The red of its wings made it hard for me to see how much blood I had spilt. I removed my leather belt and used it to tie the boy’s hands behind his back, then lifted him over my shoulder to start the walk back to the fortress.
In my arms was a boy so damaged he felt no fear – a freak of nature, and the first thing to spark my interest in what felt like years. There was a shift in the air, in my heart. The world had changed at the sight of this boy. But I didn’t understand it – could not contemplate what it might mean. Instead I marched blindly on.
Ava
It was lonely being the first of your kind – the first to survive when you shouldn’t. But I knew a thing with certainty: if you could not endure loneliness, then you wouldn’t survive long in this world.
I’d woken up with headaches before, but this was a whole new world of pain. As soon as my mind moved towards consciousness, my entire body seemed to ignite. The pain shot up my spine through my neck, culminating in my head. It throbbed and ached so badly that all I could do was lean over and retch onto the cold stone floor beneath me. I wondered, vaguely, if this was what it felt like to have broken your spine.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the blinding pain lessened and I opened my eyes. I was in a small stone cell that smelt of rot and human waste. The stench didn’t help my nausea. Groaning, I tried to sit up, struggling as I discovered my hands were tied behind my back.
‘Alive, pretty boy?’ a deep voice spoke from behind me. Moving slowly, I turned to face the bars of my cell. Standing on the other side easily resting his forehead against the iron was a young man. He was very clearly Pirenti – tall, broad and well muscled where Kayan men were small and fine. His skin was paler than a Kayan’s bronze, and his hair was dark, shaved close to his head in the way of warriors here. His eyes, when I met them, made me feel cold inside – they were an incredibly pale blue, so pale they looked almost white, and they seemed to glow under his heavy, dark brow. A long scar ran through his eye, evidence of the violence in his life. In another lifetime I might have been able to appreciate his beauty, but I was ruined now, utterly unable to see such things. His lazy grin was the most antagonising thing I’d ever seen, and I instantly loathed him.
‘Where am I?’ I asked, making sure to keep my voice as low as I could without it sounding false. Back in Kaya it had been easy enough to fool everyone into thinking I was a small, slender man. Here, however, the men prided themselves on their strength and size. I’d padded my clothes to give my body more bulk and tucked my long hair under a cap, but I was still laughably small. My engagement ring was hidden deep within the bandages around my chest, because it would mark me clearly as a bonded woman.
The brute was staring at me too closely for comfort – I couldn’t tell if he’d noticed anything was amiss.
‘You’re in a dungeon cell at the bottom of the palace you attempted to enter uninvited,’ he informed me mildly.
‘I didn’t attempt to enter anywhere!’ I spat. ‘I was just flying my— Where’s Migliori? Where’s my pegasis?’ My heartbeat ratcheted up against my chest and I scrambled unsteadily to my feet.
‘He’s fine. I had our animal physician tend to his wing and set him free.’
I blinked. Then this was the man who’d tackled me from the sky like a lunatic. I felt my anger rise. ‘You can’t set him free. He’s tied to me until the day one of us dies. He’ll sense me in here, and he won’t stop searching until he reaches me.’
‘A fitting fate for such a creature, don’t you think? To spend its life tied to the unnatural emotions of a human, waiting for him instead of flying free?’
I stared at him, my anger slipping away to be replaced with a hollow quiet. He was a pig who couldn’t understand the intricacy of the bond, or any real connection. I was not about to try to explain it to him. ‘Only those who’ve experienced it could understand,’ I murmured.
He seemed to consider that for a moment, but didn’t say anything except, ‘What’s your name, kid?’
I’d known all along – all the years I’d been planning – that I’d be asked this question. And I’d known that if my disguise had any hope of working, I’d have to lie. But as I opened my mouth and uttered the name that wasn’t mine, it still tore through me, inside my broken, ruined heart with both a fierce pride and an interminable sorrow.
‘Avery,’ I told him. ‘My name is Avery.’
‘Ambrose.’
I stared at him blankly. He was looking at me like … like he could see me, like I was a real, solid person with hopes and desires, and not the ghost I’d become. He was looking at me as though I deserved to be noticed.
‘So what? You want us to be pals now?’ I snapped, stunned and unsettled by his gaze. Nobody saw me like that anymore, let alone Pirenti pigs. ‘What do you want? What will you do with me?’
He smiled, moving slowly to pace back and forwards. ‘You’re a naughty boy, Avery of Kaya. Here, guts and audacity only get you rewarded if you’re Pirenti. You’ll be punished.’
‘For doing what, exactly?’
‘For trespassing into our country and attacking a Pirenti man.’
‘You attacked me!’
‘Do you really think the Queen will believe that?’ He grinned lazily, pale eyes flashing, and my heart lurched. ‘More to the point,’ he added, ‘Do you think she’ll care?’
The Pirenti murdered Kayans simply because of our race – a result of the blood feud between our two nations that ran as deep as any river and existed as far back as any history book bothered to record. Nobody knew what the fighting was about anymore – it was just a fact, something we were all born into. Mortal enemies until the day we died. I hated the Pirenti as much as anyone – more, in fact. And I had no doubt that, despite Ambrose’s cool manner, he hated me just as much. There was no way out of this for me except—
‘Execution, probably,’ he murmured. He didn’t seem amused anymore. But I couldn’t read his eyes, steady as they were. ‘If you’re very lucky, and very nice to me, you might get away with life in prison.’
Women in Pirenti were raped and abused and made to be slaves. And a Kayan woman who had trespassed and attacked a man … I shuddered to think what they’d do to me if they knew the truth.
I walked to the bars and spat in the soldier’s face. ‘Nice enough?’
He stared at me without flinching, then calmly wiped his cheek clean, never looking away from my violet eyes. They shone a bright purple when I was angry and they went red when I was furious. I wasn’t sure what he would think of that – Kayans were the only people whose eyes changed colour to suit their moods.
Moving slowly, he drew a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the bars, then stepped into the cell with me. I was tall for a Kayan woman, but my head barely reached his shoulders. It occurred to me that I was about to be in a lot more pain.
He struck me hard, a backhand to my cheek. I thought he’d snapped my neck, it made such a noise. The room spun and I fell to my knees.
‘That was a kindness,’ I heard him say softly, as if from far away. ‘I could have killed you. I should have. Get up.’
I didn’t move. A tiny, insignificant act of defiance, but all that I was capable of. Ambrose took my arm and jerked me to my feet. My cheek throbbed as I looked at him.
‘How old are you?’ he asked me.
‘Seventeen.’ I was twenty, but as a boy I didn’t look it.
‘Do you understand that you’re about to die?’
‘Of course.’
‘But you aren’t frightened.’
I lifted my chin in response.
‘Why?’
‘Death,’ I said slowly, ‘is easy.’
‘And how, my pretty boy, could you possibly know that?’
My jaw clenched and I made no answer.
His frown deepened. Holding me by the arm, he led me from the cell. My mind started whirling, trying to pull together the pieces of my training, but I felt useless and weak beside his outlandish strength.
Ambrose led me upwards, and I realised with a jolt that we were following the exact path that Avery and I had used two years ago. Nausea clutched at my insides. Even though I’d devoted the rest of my empty, half-life towards punishing the woman who’d murdered my mate, I suddenly didn’t care that I hadn’t achieved it because the sense of loss was so exhausting that I just wanted it all to end. I simply wanted to die.
‘Where are we going?’ I muttered.
‘To your sentencing.’
We came to the room, the very same room. I peered at the floor where the blood had been, wondering if there would be a stain, or some sort of proof, but there wasn’t. Of course there wasn’t – people were killed here all the time. The room was empty but for a woman seated on her throne. She looked like she spent all her time here luxuriating in the residue of death. The Barbarian Queen. The woman I’d watched as she stabbed Avery over and over again, as though she couldn’t tell that he was already gone.
Forget dying. I suddenly wanted to inflict pain. My anger was like a living, breathing thing, controlling my body, making me shake. It was funny what a person with only half a soul could feel: no joy, no pleasure, no amusement, no longing or desire or fear – but they could feel anger, more keenly than if they were whole. Sharper than they ever had before they were destroyed – anger like it kept you alive, anger like air. I’d thought, many times, that it might have been only this anger that allowed me to survive at all.
Ambrose seemed to sense the change in me, for he looked sideways, eyes sharp. He posed a problem; he alone was going to make it hard for me to get this done.
‘Well,’ the Queen said as we approached. ‘It’s the brave little beast, come to be a hero.’
Beast. I would have smiled if I could.
This woman had been in power in Pirenti for thirty-two years, and she looked like she’d aged a lot in the last two – her face was even more wrinkled than I remembered. Her hair was completely white, and her eyes were the same icy colour as the eyes of the guard who held me. She had four bodyguards flanking her, making it impossible for me to see a way to get to her. I dreamed about this woman every night – of her cold, hard sharpness, of her brutality. I dreamed of her beastliness. It revolted me. They all did. I decided to tell her so and the room stilled.
‘What did you say?’ the Barbarian Queen asked me.
‘You make me sick,’ I repeated carefully. ‘You are everything that’s rotten in this world.’
She stared at me, and her fury empowered me. My hands were working behind my back, quickly and subtly.
‘This from the boy who has come here to what? Assassinate a poor, old woman?’
I stared at her. If I’d been physically able to, I might have laughed. ‘Poor old woman,’ I repeated softly, buying time. ‘Tell me. When did you turn from an evil, murderous tyrant into a poor, old woman? It might be something I’ll need to alert my friends about.’
She smiled. ‘Your friends.’
‘I have plenty and they are coming for you, one after the other until you are dead – of that you can be certain.’
The rope around my hands frayed against the file I’d sewn into the back of my breeches. I kept my shoulders very still as I worked – this was a trick I’d practised almost every day over the last two years. A second of silence, and then my hands were free. I didn’t move them, not yet. Instead, I allowed my fingers to stretch out and slide my knife from my waistband.
‘What have you got planned for me?’ I asked. ‘Will you slaughter me on this floor? It doesn’t seem as dramatic with no one here to watch.’
‘But there is someone here to watch,’ the Queen disagreed softly, her eyes flashing to the soldier gripping my arm. It piqued my curiosity. ‘Ambrose would probably quite like to see a young Kayan like you scattered over the marble. Wouldn’t you, soldier?’
Ambrose said nothing. I snuck a look at him – he was still as a statue. His expression was unreadable, but much harder than it had been alone with me in the dungeon.
‘You’ve yet to be punished for this morning,’ she told him. ‘Perhaps I’ll allow you to torture your captive while I think of an appropriate penance for you.’
The blade now firmly in my hand and hidden beneath the fold of my tunic, I was making plans. With my right arm caught in the soldier’s clutches, I would have to use my left. If I ducked low and aimed for the woman’s throat, I could possibly get my knife into her jugular before any of the bodyguards had time to block her, but I’d have to be very, very quick.
‘You may begin,’ the Queen told the soldier.
I took a breath—
‘I don’t think so.’
I paused, whipping around to look at the strange man holding me, speaking out against his Queen. He was staring at her.
‘I beg your pardon?’ she asked him, a dangerous edge to her voice.
‘This boy is unnatural. I’d like him sent to the isle where his mount can never reach him – it will send the two of them mad.’
A shiver of cool horror made its way down my spine. My heart hurt. He couldn’t possibly mean it.
The Queen’s face filled with a demonic grin. ‘Well, well. Aren’t you in a surprisingly macabre mood.’
‘He’s my catch. I’ve rights to decide his fate,’ Ambrose said simply.
He’s a monster, I thought with a dizzy rush of fury. I had to do this now.
Switching hands, I moved the knife into attack position and ducked— a jerk brought me out of my movement. All of a sudden, without me even realising how it had happened, Ambrose, the pig beside me, was holding my knife in his hand, and sheathing it in his own belt – so fast it was virtually invisible.
‘What was that?’ the Queen snapped.
I held my breath, knowing that what had just happened was going to make things very, very bad for me.
And then I heard Ambrose respond with, ‘Nothing. The boy stumbled.’
There was a fist around my heart. Hatred unlike any I’d ever known. How dare he? How dare he take my fate in his own hands, propose to send me to a waking nightmare of a prison and then lie for me? It made no sense and the confusion was a savage thing inside me.
I started struggling, wanting his hands away from my skin, wanting this beast gone from my life forever, but he only tightened his hold into an iron grip and I couldn’t get away.
The Queen watched me through hawk eyes. Finally she smiled, even more widely. Her teeth glittered. ‘Very well, Ambrose. Since you have yet to be punished, and you’ve taken such a personal interest in this case, you shall accompany the boy to the isle.’
‘What?’ he roared. ‘I’ll not go there! You expect me to waste weeks on a miserable journey into the forsaken lands?’
‘Obey the rules and you’ll not be made to do anything you dislike.’ She shrugged. With a wave of her hand we were dismissed.
‘Haven’t you done well,’ I muttered cruelly under my breath as Ambrose yanked me roughly from the room. ‘Now we’ve both got exactly what we want.’
‘Quiet,’ he snarled, his jaw clenched into a hard line. But when he looked at me I saw something strange behind his pale eyes, like the ghost of a thing I’d felt long ago.
Thorne
The best fight I’d ever had was with my little brother. He could dish it out well, that kid. The day he turned fourteen, I beat him to a bloody pulp in front of every soldier in my army – a rite of passage, an honour. But when he turned sixteen, he beat me just as badly, and for me that was a prouder day. We hadn’t fought since. Strangely enough, that fight was what I thought of when I came across him in the crypt that morning. I wondered if we’d ever match ourselves against each other again, and this time, who would win. He was big these days, and he hadn’t lost a fight against any of our men in a very long time. But I was the slaughterman of Pirenti. I didn’t like his chances.
I’d seen him leave his quarters, dressed for the cold, and something about his expression had made me follow. Down into the earth, and my heart had sunk as I’d realised what had driven him out of bed so early.
The same dream, haunting him time and again.
I made my way up the stairs, back into the main building and up to Ma’s private chambers, thinking as I went about the changes in a life – the weight of responsibility and how it altered you over time. First sons and second sons – two very different roles. If brotherly love would have me hold my tongue, duty brought me here and made me speak. You could not, in this life, willingly break the rules without punishment – no matter who you were. There had to be a hierarchy of strength in order for everything to function. I happened to be at the top of it – if I didn’t do my job, things fell apart.
‘What is it?’ Ma asked when I was shown in. She sat behind her desk, reading sheaves of parchment.
‘Ambrose was in the crypt.’
She looked up sharply, disbelief at her lips. ‘Again? After the last punishment?’
I nodded.
‘What is his obsession with that damned place?’
I shrugged. It had been a dark day for Ambrose, that winter solstice so many years ago. I didn’t want to explain that he carried that day with him even now, because I was worried that it meant that he was softer than the rest of us. Ma wouldn’t understand it – she understood nothing of softness.
‘He knows something wasn’t right about that day,’ I murmured. ‘He can scent it.’
Ma frowned. ‘We must keep him out of that hole in the ground. What will get through to him? No punishment seems to work.’
‘Because he’s not a mewling woman,’ I said bluntly. ‘You can’t just whip him and think it will bother him.’
She met my eyes. ‘Very well. I’ll consider that. You’re dismissed.’
I turned, worrying that I may have just set something bad in motion – that light in Ma’s eyes often boded very dark things.
I was at the door before she stopped me. ‘Thorne? Have you disposed of the girl yet?’
A faint voice whispered inside me – this one made of anger – but I quelled it and spoke calmly. ‘I will not be doing that.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s your decision, of course. But you do understand that she’s made a laughing stock of you? She’s touched in the head. Why keep her?’
I stared at my mother, unsure of how to answer. My mouth opened but nothing came out.
Eloise sighed in irritation. ‘Sometimes I think you’re as stupid as she is. Get out of my sight. And in the Gods’ names – deal with her stench!’
I made my way down to the armoury, thoughts whirling. The truth was, I didn’t know the answer to this problem. I flushed with humiliation when I thought of Roselyn. The rest of the nation thought she was dim-witted, thought I must be dim-witted myself to have married her. And yet it wasn’t that simple, even though I might wish it was. Roselyn wasn’t stupid, she just had other things in her mind: soaring birds and oyster shells; all the numbers in the world. She wasn’t stupid, she was distracted. Ambrose had said that to me once, as though I hadn’t already deciphered it myself.
In any case, it hardly mattered what he thought about my wife – Ambrose was wayward. There seemed to be no respect left in his heart for his family or his crown. The absurd notion that my little brother no longer cared about Pirenti sometimes woke me at night. How could he not care about our people or the war we were fighting?
Ambrose seemed lost, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to save him much longer – which hurt, because I’d always loved him best of all.
Roselyn
My favourite pastime is making wishes. Big wishes, sometimes, but mostly small ones, like a wish that the sky would clear so that I could walk on the battlements without getting wet, or wishing I’d have a chance to wear the purple satin gown I’d been sewing. Wishing the cold stones of the castle weren’t so cold. Wishing the Queen didn’t despise me. Wishing I could conceive a child. Wishing my husband loved me. If I had a harder wish to make, I’d even it out with some simple ones. I liked everything better that way – even. In order to balance out one of the really big wishes, I had to make sure lots of little wishes came true. But there was one wish I would never make, because I knew with a bone-deep kind of certainty that it could never come true, not in my lifetime: I would never wish to stop being thrown in the dungeon. I made too many mistakes for that particular wish to come true.
How I came to be there on the afternoon of one of the biggest storms in Pirenti was due, once again, to my own stupidity. I wasn’t supposed to go to the highest levels of the fortress, but I wanted to glimpse the oyster bays through the eastern window – they always looked so beautiful at night, glistening under the stars. And tonight I had the chance to be alone, because Thorne was working with his ma and wouldn’t be ready for bed for hours.
I walked the halls, listening to my shoes clip against the flaggings, counting how many steps it took me to get from one doorway to the next and then trying to do it in less. The easy order of the numbers was comforting.
To get to the eastern window I had to pass the execution room. To my surprise, there were people within. Curiosity got the better of me, as it always did. This was, without a doubt, my deepest, truest flaw, as my husband liked to point out. My curiosity overruled rational thought, fear, and plain common sense.
I paused by the door to the massive room and peeked in. The Queen was seated on her throne, flanked by four of her bodyguards, and standing before her – I realised with a quickening heart – was Ambrose. I’d know the look of him from a million leagues away. He was restraining a struggling Kayan boy with ease, almost as if the boy was nothing more than a toy in his big arms. I felt a tremor flow through me. I hadn’t seen Ambrose in days.
‘You make me sick,’ the boy said, and my mouth dropped open, stunned. Didn’t he know that he’d be tortured for saying such a thing? I held my breath as I waited to hear how the Queen would react – a particular kind of violence threaded moments like these, when power was challenged.
What I did not foresee was the way Ambrose turned and beheld the boy. There was an expression on his face I’d never seen before, one I’d never even come close to seeing. As he stared at this strange, angry Kayan, I saw a kind of desperate panic flash across his features, and then some hastily flung words flew from his mouth. He wanted the boy to go to the isle, which didn’t make sense, because that was a fate worse than death.
I watched in confusion, wishing I understood what was going on. Wishes, wished especially hard, as a sound came from beside me – of someone clearing their throat very softly – and I jerked in fright to realise I wasn’t alone. I spun to face my husband. He towered above me, massive arms folded over his barrel chest. Thorne was the biggest, most intimidating man I’d ever seen, covered in tattoos and battle scars. His bright blue eyes glinted at me. Silently, he flicked his head for me to follow and then strode down the hallway. I followed him to our chambers, my heart beating wildly in apprehension, knowing that the punishment for this trespass would be bad and cursing myself endlessly. Why don’t I ever learn?
But even so, even within the shame, there was a dark, foolish place where a piece of me relished the simple fact that he was looking at me.
Once he’d locked the door behind me, I bowed my head and waited. Thorne stared at me for what felt like an age and my blood rushed in my ears. ‘I don’t know what to do with you.’
Wild despair in my chest. ‘I’m sorry,’ I murmured, chancing a look up into those clear eyes. They were a shade darker than his brother’s icy gaze, but no less frightening. They held a kind of reckless violence, and no matter how well I knew him, I would never stop being afraid of how unpredictable Prince Thorne of Pirenti was.
‘You continue to disobey me.’
‘I don’t mean to.’ It was true – I never thought about the stupid things I did until it was too late. It was as though I couldn’t quite grasp that what I was doing was wrong until I was found and punished.
‘What did you hear up there?’ His voice was deep and gravelly, as if he had swallowed cut glass.
‘I … very little. Only that Ambrose caught a Kayan boy, and now he must take him to the isle. I promise I didn’t hear anything else.’
‘Why were you up there? You know you’re not allowed to go to the top floor.’
‘I …’ I flushed bright pink and looked down at the floor. ‘I wanted to see the moonlight on the oyster farms.’
I wished for him to forgive me. I wished for him to hold me and tell me it was all right. A stupid waste – they were two wishes that would never come true.
‘Why have you still not bathed?’ he demanded.
I blushed even redder. ‘I have, I—’
‘Not with a cloth,’ he growled.
I didn’t know how to answer him, how to explain the fear.
Thorne breathed out, a puff of impatience. ‘My mother constantly tells me I’ve married a half-wit. Sometimes I agree with her.’
Shame washed over me. He grabbed me by the wrist and marched me down hundreds of steps. I knew this staircase very well. The air grew colder as we moved underground. The dungeons were usually full of criminals and Kayans waiting to have their punishments carried out, but there was a cell at the very end that was always left empty. For me.
Thorne stopped before it and turned to face me. He reached out a large, strong hand and tilted my face towards his. ‘What do I tell you, every day?’
I swallowed. ‘To think things through before I act.’
I barely had time to take a breath before he slapped me across the cheek. It stung and brought tears to my eyes, but I knew I had to hold them in until he was gone – Thorne didn’t like it when I cried in front of him.
‘That was for ignoring me,’ he said bluntly. I nodded shakily. Then he kissed me on the mouth. I usually yearned for his kisses – they were rare – but this one was rough and hard, and made my lips hurt. Still reeling, I stumbled as he pushed me into the cell.
‘Good girl,’ he murmured. ‘Think about what you’ve done.’
As he strode away, he drew his knife and raked it across the bars of the prison cells, waking the prisoners and grinning wolfishly at their discomfort. I crawled into the corner of the cell and covered my face with my hands so I could sob as softly as possible. How could I have been so stupid, yet again? Maybe the Queen was right and I was a half-wit.
‘Are you all right?’ a voice asked from nearby. I looked up to see the Kayan boy standing at the bars between our cells. He was small and lean and too delicate looking. With his bronzed skin and very blond hair, the purple of his eyes stood out garishly. They were strange, unnatural eyes. I hated to think of them changing colour – it was unnerving.
‘I’m fine,’ I whispered.
‘He hit you pretty hard.’
It was nowhere near as hard as I’d been hit before, but this didn’t seem like something I should point out.
‘Don’t tell me you’re married to that beast?’
I licked my lips and tasted blood.
‘Why?’ the boy pressed.
I stared at him. ‘Don’t you know who that was?’
He shrugged.
‘That was Prince Thorne, elder Prince of Pirenti.’
His expression didn’t change and I wondered if he was stupid. ‘Then you’re the princess?’
‘There are no princesses. Only princes.’
‘That seems fair.’ The boy’s eyes flashed in the darkness. ‘If you’re his wife, why did he hit you and throw you down here with all the evil Kayan monsters?’
‘I behaved badly.’
‘Of course.’ He seemed to be mocking me.
‘Thorne doesn’t enjoy punishing me.’
The Kayan stared at me a long moment, then shook his head and sat down against the wall. ‘That’s bullshit,’ he said softly. ‘That man is power hungry. He could crush you in those huge hands of his, and he likes to see the knowledge of it in your eyes.’
I stared at him, feeling faint. ‘You’re wrong.’
He shrugged and lay down to sleep.
I blinked a few times. Realising that all my tears had dried up. I shifted to my usual spot beneath the window to look up into the sky. I wish for this stay to be short. I wish for Thorne to come and let me out first thing in the morning. I wish for the clouds to move out of the way so I can see the moon. I wish for it not to get too cold tonight.
Thorne didn’t collect me the next morning, or the one after that. The Kayan boy was taken away shortly after we’d spoken, but I was left in the dungeons for three nights, and on the third it started to pour with rain. The flash of lightning and rumble of thunder overhead scared me, and rain entered my cell through the window, soaking and chilling me to the bone. Fear sliced through my bones and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to disappear inside the numbers in my head. I’d already counted the stones in the walls one hundred and ninety-eight times, and the bars that surrounded me three hundred and twelve times. After a while I started to make wishes instead, as loudly as I possibly could to try to drown out the surrounding storm. I wish it would stop raining. I wish I were lying warm in my bed. I wish the Kayan boy had never spoken to me. I wish Ambrose hadn’t looked at him like he did. I wish I didn’t know what that look meant. And failing all of those, I simply wished for dry, dry, dry.