Chapter
9

Lirra

A FEW HOURS BEFORE DAWN, I CREEP INTO MY home and upstairs into the attic. The image of Leif, unconscious and pallid, in the healer’s room haunts me. While I wanted to choke the king of Malam, I appreciate that he kept his promise and escorted me through the castle to visit Leif. If only my cousin didn’t look so haggard. A fresh wave of guilt hits.

I shuck off my clothes, unable to stand the filth any longer, and wipe down my body as best I can, using a rag and the bowl sitting on top of my chest of drawers. The porcelain washbowl doesn’t match the rest of my room. Small, delicate roses painted along the rim contrast with the frayed cloth I soak in the water and press to the scratches on my limbs and face. It’s too fanciful, reminding me of a life I’d rather know nothing about, but Da traded a large sum to have a few of my mother’s belongings salvaged after the fire that stole her life. He smuggled them over the border so I might have a piece of her.

He’s made many sacrifices on my behalf. Too many to ever repay.

Once the grime is wiped away, I inspect the yellow-and-purple patch that has bloomed in the scarred skin atop my ribs. My fingers prod the tender area. There are no broken bones, just bruises. I keep a few bottles of Beannach water hidden under my chest of drawers for times like this. I don’t want my appearance to concern Eugenia or the littleuns. The Beannach water helps me regain my energy quickly. I guzzle it, hoping the aches will subside.

After sliding on a nightdress, I’m too tired to do anything more than sleep. My disgusting mess of hair will have to wait till tomorrow. But the second my head hits the pillow, I realize I won’t be able to sleep despite my exhaustion.

Negotiation is a gambler’s game, and knowing when to show each stake-raising card requires skill. Like a master, Aodren forced me to fold with his final reveal. We shook hands to seal the agreement—he’ll turn over the details in Da’s letter after I provide him with a disguise and escort him to the melee on the first night. I kick away the blanket and twist to my side, considering our deal, the precautions I’ll have to take, the risk of getting caught. There’s no way to wiggle out of the agreement and still have him deliver Da’s letter.

I’m a hare caught in the hunter’s trap, and the feeling keeps me awake until the sun peeks over the horizon.

Hours later, bangs and shouts and squeals—normal morning ruckus—wake me. Every muscle in my body groans. I pull the blanket over my head and attempt to fall back asleep, but hardly any time passes before someone pushes my shoulder, then pushes it again.

“Whaaaa?” I roll to face my intruder, pleased that my ribs are less tender.

“You awake?” A broken twig pokes out of Loren’s curls, yet he peers down at me like I’m the odd one. I think he wants to ask where I was the night before. But we rarely discuss my absences because they’re usually related to my work for Da.

“I am now,” I grumble.

He beams, showing his big, crooked teeth. “I brought you something.” The hand behind his back comes out of hiding. A rope hangs, loosely coiled, over his forearm.

I squint. “You brought me rope?”

“I thought you might want it back.”

Sitting up, I straighten my nightdress. My head spins and I taste the nastiness of morning horse breath. “Uh . . . thank you for returning it.”

Loren’s mouth hitches to the side in an apologetic twist. “I, uh, I’m sorry for getting in your stuff. Is that why you didn’t come home the night before last?”

When he isn’t a hellion, Loren has a sweet side that softens all my hard spots. Before he can escape, I pull him into a hug and loosen the twig from his hair. “Lovable Loren, you came back! Don’t let the beast take control of you again.”

He squirms out of my grip and puts on affronted airs. “Stop it. I’m no beast.”

I snort. “I was working,” I say, instead of telling him where I really was for the last day.

He accepts my answer with an easy smile and digs his hands into his trouser pockets. “Thought so. I figure you need the rope for the jubilee. You’re gonna get the glider done in time, right, Lirra? ’Cause my friends are all coming to see it. I been telling them about your flying inventions forever.”

The first night of the jubilee starts after the melee. With less than a week to finish preparations, I don’t know how I’m going to get through the list of things I need to do to complete the wings and help King Aodren.

“Orli’s gonna come too, right?” Loren asks. “She’ll wanna see them.”

“I hope so,” I say, though Orli won’t attend in spite of how much work she has put into helping me sew the wings. I know she wants to see them take flight. But a night of magic displays will overwhelm her.

“When are you going to let me and Kiefer fly?”

I smile. “Soon. What time is it?” I ask, thinking there might be time to see Orli this morning before I have to meet Aodren with his disguise.

“Almost time to eat.” Loren clutches his belly like hunger pains have gotten to him. I’m no fool. Loren is always eating.

“Breakfast?” I scratch my head and remember the vile state of my hair.

“No. You’ve slept all morning. It’s the midday meal.”

I leap out of bed, groaning, and rush around the attic, grabbing a clean dress, the pumice stone, and soap. Chances are the king will have to wait for me, but I’m not going anywhere in this state of ruin. Besides, if I have to put off seeing Orli and finishing my glider to do the man’s errand, the least he can do is wait for me. I’ll disguise him so completely his own mother wouldn’t recognize him, then show him how to get in and out of the castle. After that, I’m done with His High and Mightiness.