Chapter 19

T he seat beneath me rocks and rattles as my eyes blink open. The sound of hooves on dirt fills the otherwise silent forest. I'm back in the carriage. Was I unconscious for that long, or did the invisibles use their magic to move us here? I try to lift my head slowly but the wheels catch on something, slamming my forehead hard against the door.

"Ah! Gods damn it!" I groan as the welt on my head throbs.

"Oh, dear. You're alright. You're okay." Liliana gazes back at me with the look of a mother doting on her child.

My memory threatens to return, flickering in bits and pieces.

That woman… those words…

"What in the name of the gods just happened?" I bluster while touching my head in the spot where a lump will surely form. A strange fogginess clouds my mind, and it feels like my thoughts are being yelled at me from some faraway place.

"A raging lunatic nearly captured you." Her amber eyes narrow as she hisses, sparking with jolts of yellow fury. The mask she so often wears – one of kindness and joy – slips and morphs into something darker. "She hid you in the back of that disgusting, rat-infested stall. Thank the gods I reached you before she could do any real damage."

I beg the fog in my mind to lift as I desperately try to recall our conversation. The memories start to resurface like a deck of cards, shuffling frequently and revealing themselves one by one. First the prowlers, then Paul, now her… these encounters must all be related somehow. What role does Liliana play in it?

"How did you know where to find me?" I ask over the pounding in my head.

"A protective spell prevented the invisibles from entering the stall after you, and so they alerted me and the guards. By the looks of it, we arrived just in time," she says with a glimmer of pride.

The invisibles were in the market? How much did they hear? "Are the invisibles here with us now?" A shiver dances on my skin as I shrink into my seat. I look all around the carriage and through the windows, but I see nothing that would indicate their presence. No glowing red eyes hovering over us, no menacing scales. But, of course, it is still light outside. Why did the creatures that guarded me have to be invisible? How am I supposed to know when I'm being watched? They could easily eavesdrop on every conversation and report back to the king.

I can tell, judging by her face, that she regrets admitting the invisibles' involvement. She slinks back into her skin and recoils like she's hiding a rattling tail. "They came as our escorts."

"Can you see them?" I whisper.

"Yes." She purses her lips and says nothing more, but I will not let the conversation die there.

"How can you see them when I cannot?"

She lets out a deep exhale and looks out the carriage window for a moment. When she looks back at me, I can see the wheels spinning behind her eyes. "That is a question for Sir Magis."

"Please. Can you tell me yourself?" I fold my arms across my chest. I'm tired of the secrets, the lies, the manipulation. All I want is the truth. Why is that so hard to come by?

She says, "The invisibles are born with inherent magical abilities, but they are not truly invisible. Their eyes, for instance, can be seen in the dark."

I stop her before she can skirt past the question. "But we're still in daylight. How can you see them now?"

"Patience, dear," she chides. "They are not really invisible. Let's see… how do I put this? They create blind spots, we'll call them, which prevent them from being seen and allow them to hide in plain sight. Someone more magically inclined than myself can cast a spell to remove that blinder, so to speak. I'm not strong enough for that sort of magic, but Sir Magis should be. And let me make one thing clear – I don't appreciate accusations."

Despite getting the answer I wanted, my shoulders slump. "I'm sorry. All I seek is the truth. I need somebody to trust."

She blinks at my words and then, as if realizing the only way to get through to me, she returns the mask of patience and care. But I see it now, that shift. It's nothing more than a fa?ade to gain my trust. "I know. You have to trust me when I say that your safety is the cornerstone of all of our actions. We all have your best interest in mind – me, the king, the queen, the invisibles, all of us. But I promise you that I will never lie to you."

I don't trust her. Every fiber of my being tells me to listen when a snake rattles their tail, but I nod anyways. Perhaps duplicity is the game, and I must return it in kind. If everyone around me can deceive and manipulate, then so can I.

"Thank you, Liliana." I smile tightly and try to get the warmth to meet my eyes. Treading ever so lightly I add, "What will happen to the woman from the market."

"She will be taken to the prison, where she belongs," she says casually without a single drop of empathy for the human life that will be forever changed.

"She did nothing wrong," I say as calmly as possible while the pit in my stomach grows. "Her only crime was answering my question. Honestly. The only reason we went into her stall was to speak more privately. At my request. That whole situation was my fault, not hers."

The carriage screeches to a halt, launching me face-first into Liliana's shoulder. I roll over, collapsing to the carriage floor.

"Sahrry! Sahrry! Horses got spooked by somethin'. The dumb beasts!" The coachman growls, his words slurred, before the whip cracks.

A funny and familiar feeling strokes the inside of my mind, caressing in invitation. But as I peel myself from the carriage floor and my battered head begins to pound, that feeling melts away.

"No more carriage rides for me, please."

"This outing certainly could have gone better," she says with a hint of agitation as the carriage continues on its path. "May I ask, what question enticed you into that stall?"

I swallow a breath. Did the invisibles already hear every last detail? Did they see the look in her eyes as she transformed into a ghost? Is it better to lie or tell the truth? The last person to mention a throne to me ended up with a knife in their chest.

The tingling in my fingers grows, and it feels like a tantalizing warning.

A lie it is, then. "I asked her about the necklace. It reminded me of my mother's, and she was going to tell me more about its history. Apparently, it came from Umbra."

Her brows knit together, scrutinizing.

"Can you promise me that nothing will happen to that woman?"

"Of course, dear. If what you say is true, then she has nothing to fear." She plasters a smile on her face that seems forced, and we let the conversation die there.

If one good thing came from today, it is that I know now to be on my guard with Liliana.