4. Chapter 3

After spending most of the day in the garden, I venture back to the west wing as night approaches. Ignoring the Shadows as I ascend the long stairwell, they reach for me, but I do not let them latch. I haven"t slept a wink, and my tired mind plays tricks on me. When I reach Father"s grand door I knock with as much confidence as I can muster. There is no answer. I start to think he might very well be on the floor, still wrapped in a blanket, taken by death. At least I did as much as I could.

Slowly I turn the knob, terrified of what I might see. When I peek my head in, it"s hard to decipher what is what in the darkness. The curtains have been drawn and there is a chill to the air, the fire long gone from early this morning. I enter fully and take a candle from the stand near the door. When the room becomes visible, no one is in sight, just as last night.

The blanket that was wrapped around Father is on the ground near the window where I left him. The curtains fly up as a breeze gets sucked in from outside. I part the curtains and peer down towards the trees below. The moon shines brightly, casting a white glow across the lake. The trees sway gently in the wind, a view that I am not afforded from my window. I look beyond our lands to the mountains. It would not be so bad. If Father never comes back? Maybe, like many wounded animals do, he will find a comfortable spot to die. I take in the view one last time before locking the window with a tight turn of the brass lock at its base.

Maybe I was right because Father has not come back, and the last few days have been calm. I tend to the garden and even tag a rabbit for dinner with my slingshot. I jump at every noise that makes its way through the castle, mistaking the settling for footsteps or the wind for voices.

Ignoring the sounds and Shadows and sometimes humming away the silences, I climb into the tub and use Adriel"s mixes of soap for skin and hair that I gathered from her room. The soap fills the air with a lavender scent, the scent of my sisters, the one that made it so easy to avoid them. I scrub away dried blood from my hands—the rabbit"s, but mixed with Father"s under my nails, I"m sure.

Sinking down into the water, I hold my breath. I"ve taught myself to hold it for a long while. I"ve spent countless hours in the lake doing just this during the summer. Under the water, there are only the sounds of my heartbeat and the rhythmic back-and-forth as it hits the shore, my only true escape from the darkness.

I think only of what I should do next as I lather the soap into my skin. The water turns a brownish color by the time I am done. I need answers. I deserve answers. The only place for the kind of answers I require is Thorn Row. I must make the same journey that Father took all that time ago.

The horses are all gone, taken by my siblings, so I"m in for a long walk to town. I take a canteen of water and tuck my dagger into the sheath around my ankle, concealed by my boot but easy to grab. The last time I was in Thorn Row, I was a child.

Rumors have, of course, spread their way around to the lords and their ladies, but the people that frequent the part of Thorn Row that I intend to go to will never have seen me, or at least they will not recognize me after all these years.

Fathers" sickness cut short Medla and Adriel"s coming out. Not soon enough. Cedric made his own rumors in the town long before that. He spent every allowance Father gave him on women and booze.

If Cedric is still here, doing what he has always done, I do not want to see him. I promise myself to keep my hood up and my head down as I search for a woman who claims to talk to the dead.

It"s just as I remembered it, although it was long ago, and I know that the markets have grown double in size since then. Vendors come from all over Stone. They made sure it was the mecca of trading.

Thorn Row is the center of everything. The path to every other city and village in all of Stone. The northern and southern expanses of the city stretch endlessly, with rows of houses, workshops, and businesses. Only cut off by the ocean in the south and the mountain range in The North, which coined the name Shadow Gate by the people who survived the war. Past that, there are the Uncharted Territories, nestled just below the part of Shadow Gate that hosted the war. Made solely of villagers who refused to follow the King after his victory. Or at least that is what I heard through the door of Medla and Adriel"s tutoring session.

The population of northern Thorn Row grows in the summer and shrinks in the winter, due to harsh winters. Some even travel to Flora to the left of Thorn Row and Fauna to the right.

The streets are meticulously planned, forming a labyrinthine network. Towering structures and elegant architecture characterize the skyline. My Father"s design. Father also knew what he was doing when he built his own home on the upper east side of Thorn Row, outside the walls that hold the chaos within. Somewhere, he could truly be himself without the eyes of others. And when eyes were on him, he placed a mask over his face. One that hid his true self.

These gates are the main entry points, heavily fortified and equipped with mechanisms to raise and lower massive doors, securing the city from potential threats. Guards inspect those who wish to enter.

I hand my papers to the man at the gate. He looks over every detail. He takes extra notice of the column labeled "Last Visit." No stamps with the date in the last eight years.

He raises an eyebrow that has my heart thumping with concern. He is going to turn me away, Ithink to myself. Then, "Luz, huh?" I nod my head nervously. "Would that be Hanzel Luz?" he questions.

"Yes." My voice cracks when I answer.

"Go on then." He dismisses me with a hand after shoving the paper back into me.

People mill about the street, perusing wares and making offers. I had forgotten what a busy place it was here until I entered the markets. Men and women reach their hands out, trying to entice you to their booths with promises of "Something you"ve never seen before."

The noise from the markets blends into one muddled melody of people"s voices, dogs barking, and wooden boxes clanging together as they are thrown into the back of carts. A whistle filled the air meant for a woman in a long light blue dress, her waist cinched tightly by a corset, and her hair in perfect unnatural waves of blonde. What a strange way to get someone"s attention. The woman scoffs and continues, ignoring the man who threw the whistle her way. I keep my head straight, pulling the hood down around my face.

Behind the colors and the sounds of the city, behind the bartering and singing and pleading, there is darkness. It calls to me, even pulls me towards a side street, and when I look to where it wants me to go, there stands a robed woman. Her beauty maimed by a tattoo of an eye on her face, centered in the middle of her forehead. I know I have found what I"m looking for.

Today I am not in need of fruits or vegetables or exotic animal furs, instead I am here for one thing and one thing only, answers.

Before I can even begin to make my way to the woman a man pushes past me, knocking me with his shoulder, forcing me to look away from her, he looks me up and down before his eyebrows raise and he laughs in a disgusted snort. He nudges his friend as they continue, the other man looks over his shoulder and laughs as well.

My attire is not the fashion of women in Thorn Row, perhaps not even in all of Stone. They wear dresses, or skirts, with a tight corset, the same kind that Medla tried to dress me in. I have vowed never to wear one again. Women"s waists are meant to be as small as possible, and their busts are to be on the verge of spilling out of their clothing. Looking down, I see that those things are not true of my body. I wear a lifeless white shirt tucked into trousers that are clearly not my own, paired with a long jacket that does nothing but hide my figure.

Besides, my body is missing some of the assets, unlike my sisters, who are big in all the right places and small where needed. I couldn"t help the muscles that built on my arms and legs from long hikes, secret rides on Adriel"s horse, trees that I learned to climb without having to look at the branches above, and the long swims that helped me escape the heat of the summer season.

Ignoring the men"s sneers, I continue. When my eyes find the woman again, I see the flutter of her golden robe as she moves swiftly through a crowd. She turns towards me as she catches the attention of a man who passes by. A medallion hangs from her neck, with a picture of a woman, a Goddess, in its middle.

The noise of the markets fades slightly as I approach, observing as she grabs the hand of a red-haired beauty, pulling her in close. The robed woman smiles as she talks, like what she says is sweeter than honey. Dark brown curls swing wildly around her face when the wind picks up. The red-haired woman who looks to be wealthy tucks her hair behind her ear and looks down at her other hand, examining her palm along with the robed woman, her jaw falls slightly in awe.

Hiding myself behind the crumbling brick of a building I try to make sense of what the women are doing. The red-haired woman lets out giddy laughter, clearly pleased by what the robed woman has said. Oh, I see. She is no conduit to the other side, no witch at all, but instead, just a good businesswoman, telling all her customers just what they want to hear and collecting her coin.

My footsteps slow as the red haired woman walks away with a grin and her hand clutched to her chest. I think better of my decision. A con woman is not what I came here to find, I turn quickly back towards the markets. "You won"t find answers there, child." a woman"s raspy voice says behind me.

"How do you know that I"m here for answers?" I ask without turning towards her.

"You are," she says as a matter of fact. "You all are." My long black braid whips around as I face her, landing on my back with a light smack. Her eyes go wide as she studies my features. I lower my head to avoid the strange feeling I get when she looks between my eyes.

"You." her hand wraps around my forearm. "What are you hiding?" I look at her in shock before trying to pull away, but her hand only tightens. When I reach for my dagger, it"s not there. Her other hand comes around from behind her, a flash of silver in her grip. She flips my dagger through her slender fingers with ease. She searches my face again, her eyebrows bunched together in confusion. "You have something that doesn"t belong to you." Her breath hits my face, sweet, like she had just sucked on a sugar cube.

"I have nothing." I laugh, because it really is funny, everything I have is not mine, my clothes, my boots, the dagger that is in her hand. I really do have nothing. I"ve stolen everything, something that does not belong to me, she"s going to need to be more specific.

"The Connection." She tells me releasing my arm and using her free hand to point to the tattoo that adorns her forehead. "Don"t worry, I will not tell of your gift." She takes a step back, and the dagger refracts the light, blinding me for a second. Her words make no sense to me. The Connection? And what gift does she speak of?

My face must give away my confusion because she studies me for a moment before speaking again. "Magic, girl." She looks down at me, waiting for me to confirm her suspicions, but I can"t. Magic explains Father's illness, but I never thought it would explain away my own.

"Can you get rid of it?" I ask her, maybe this woman is not a con. I would give anything to live a day where I do not fear the Shadows. If there is a way to get rid of the darkness, maybe there is a way to get rid of Father"s sickness as well.

"Ah, but I did not give it to you." she lifts her chin, and the wind picks up once more, sending the smell of incense into my nose. The same smell that was on Father the night that he decided I was an abomination. It sticks to me, making me sick to my stomach. Overwhelming panic takes over me, sending me back to that day. I place my hand on my chest and take a step back. Forget finding the truth about Father. He is most likely dead anyway. Forget everything. I need to get out of here. I"m not sure I should have come in the first place.

"Give me back my dagger," I tell her, holding out my hand. She glances down at my palm, similar to the way she did to the woman before me. A smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"You"re going to need it," she says as she gently places the dagger into my hand. I take it and turn swiftly, walking away. The pounding starts in my chest and carries to my ears, urging me to run, so I do.

Glad that I took the time to memorize some of the city from maps hanging in Father"s office, I take the side streets. I stop at the Center Square: A huge garden of dahlia roses, this time of year they are in full bloom, turning the whole Square a bright red. The reason for its name, Thorn Row.

My legs wobble as I bend them to sit on a bench facing the field of flowers. I would have thought them to be beautiful if it weren"t for the state that I find myself in. It"s hard to stop and smell the roses when my lungs are barely functioning, and my legs are on fire. My head feels heavy with new information, and my stomach has not yet settled. This is what I came here for. This is what I wanted, I remind myself. But those are not the answers I came for. Those are answers to questions that I did not even ask.

Falling forward, I place my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands, blocking out the sunlight. Taking a moment to gather myself. What do I do now? Not my imagination after all, not madness, not insanity. Magic. Fucking magic.

"Rough day? "A low, and in a much too chipper voice for the information I just learned, asks. He stands in front of me, I squint up at his face, the sun just behind him, darkening his features. He"s so close I could reach out and touch him. Too close. This time, I keep the whereabouts of my dagger in mind so that the events from earlier do not repeat themselves.

"I"m sorry. Do I know you?" I can"t hide the annoyance from my voice.

"Well, I"m not sure. But I know you." He takes a seat, again too close to me. I slide away before looking over at him suspiciously, not taking his bait. He holds a knowing smile. "I"ve seen you before, at House Luz." He finally says when I do not reply.

No onesaw me at House Luz. I made sure I was not seen or heard. "I believe you are mistaken." I try to convince him.

"Hmm, let"s see, The Grand Masquerade, I believe your sisters called it." He sees right through my lie. Almost every family in Thorn Row was invited, so it doesn"t narrow it down. How could he have seen me there? I think back to that night, my sisters drunk on wine, the men switching masks so that they may take a turn dancing with Medla under the disguise of one of her lovers. That night, I stole my first bow.

As usual, I wasn"t allowed to attend the party, so I spent hours outside near the garden. No one goes to that side of the castle at night, especially during a party.

Don"t tell me. I stole this man"s bow, and he"s clearly still upset about it. I do not let it show. "You"re mistaken." I try again. This time with more confidence.

But he ignores me. "Ah yes, I do believe I went looking for my missing bow and Julian"s missing arrows." I knew it. Julian, that"s a familiar name, one of Cedric"s wicked friends. Which makes this man a friend of Cedric"s as well, which makes him no friend of mine. I let no indication of truth cross my face.

He looks at me with a grin that I want to smack from his mouth. He leans against the back of the bench comfortably. "Oh, come on, admit it." He looks down at my trousers. The white shirt I tucked into them now feels constricting under his gaze. "You look… different." He smiles. Leaving me unsure whether it"s a compliment or a dig at my appearance.

There is something about this man, something that draws you in, makes you want to give him exactly what he asks for. I do not, will not.

My general distrust for men and all-around lack of knowledge when it comes to how they operate factor into that. Adriel would have blushed when flashed that smile and maybe that"s how I should act too, but I can"t bring myself to it.

He waits for a response, which infuriates me, but it is of no use. I give him the confirmation he seeks. "If you lost your bow that night, you should have taken it up with Father." He can"t now, of course. Asking a beast about a bow would not end well—if he is still alive, that is.

He is still looking at me, his smile impossibly larger than a moment ago. He holds out his hand, "Kirian Bear." I do not extend my hand to him after his introduction.

"I have to go," I tell him as I stand.

"I"ll take you." He stands as well. It is getting harder to hide the annoyance from my face. "Maybe I should ask your Father about that bow, maybe it"s turned up somewhere. I really should get that back," he says in an I know something you don"t know kind of way that makes my blood boil.

"My Father is sick, bed ridden. If I find your bow, I will return it to you." I lie.

"Let me take you back anyhow, I saw you arrive here on foot." Stalker. "House Luz is far. My carriage is parked outside the third gate, east wall." He waits, and his persistence, paired with his obviously purposeful, sultry voice, almost makes me want to take that ride, but I"m not going anywhere with this man.

I suspect he already knows my answer because after a short silence he tips his hat before saying "Miss Katsia Luz, it was a pleasure seeing you again." My full name, I have not heard it used in a long time. I am almost startled at his words, but I keep my composure and begin to walk past him. I do not look at him, but I can tell that he has not looked away. "You may keep the bow, although if you haven"t improved your aim, I"m not so sure you have much use for it." I peek at him over my shoulder. He winks, giving me a knowing smile, and nods before turning away. Again, I keep the surprise from rising to my face. What else does he know?