Chapter 34

G emma wakes me in the morning with far less cheeriness than usual. Her eyes are bloodshot and sagging, regret written on her face.

I can't help but ask, "Long night?"

Her eyes barely lift from the floor as she nods in confirmation. "V and I stayed out until dawn." Her every movement comes at a glacial pace like each task is an insurmountable challenge.

"Why don't you take the day off? I can manage to keep myself alive for one day without you," I tell her. Admittedly, I sometimes wish she wouldn't serve me at all. But if no job tied her to me, would she still be my friend?

She shakes her head in refusal and continues parting the curtains. Once the sunlight is flooding into the room, she turns to ask, "Did you do what we discussed?"

Careful .

"No." I was within arm's reach of finding answers and still failed. "The king required me to stand on the dais until the end of the tripudio. By the time it was over, she was gone. Like she vanished out of thin air."

"Oh, no, Radya. I'm so sorry." She grimaces, and I wonder if it's caused by empathy or the hangover. Maybe both. Moose jumps onto the floor and walks over to her, rubbing his back against the side of her leg. "Thank you, Moose. That's very sweet."

"If Viola took the day off and you didn't, does that mean that you're in better shape than she is?" That's really not saying much, seeing as Gemma is barely keeping it together.

"Can you believe it? Viola is usually the more cautious and well-behaved twin." She laughs as she picks Moose off of the floor. "I'm happy that she finally let loose, but she'll probably never do it again after paying the price this morning. She's dead as a doornail."

"Oh, gods. Poor Viola. Did she at least enjoy herself?"

"I've never seen her have so much fun."

We share a smile as I wonder what made Viola forget herself, but that's a better question to ask Viola directly. A sadness settles in my chest as I realize that the ball could have been as much fun for me had I not been chasing a ghost. I was too distracted by Guylita to enjoy even a second of the festivities. Well, that's not quite true. I may have enjoyed one second when Bas came over to speak to me. Not that I'll ever see him again. Unless…

"Do you know a man named Bas?" I'm not sure why I bother asking. Even if she knows him, it's not like I can go find him without raising suspicions. Nor can I refuse to marry Olly after meeting this masked stranger only once. That would be crazy… right?

"Does Bas have a last name?" Her eyebrows raise with cheeky suspicion.

"Bas… um, I'm not sure. I don't think he mentioned it." I wish more than anything that I could forget meeting him. I don't even know his last name, and yet I can't stop thinking about him. His image branded itself onto my brain.

She considers for a moment. "No, I don't think so. But, hey, what are you going to do about Guylita?"

"Well, I do have one idea." It hurts me to ask, to put her in this position, but I'm running out of options. "Maybe, if you were willing, you might be able to take me to her? We could go tomorrow before Olly returns." I have to swallow the bitter taste of guilt rising on my tongue.

"Just getting her to come last night was a risk. If we go out there together, then all three of our lives could be in danger." Her wings flutter faster than ever before. "Four if you count Viola, who would surely be implicated along with us."

"Last night Eleanor announced that I will be marrying her son, so all of Somne now sees me as their future queen. They can't do anything to dissuade me from accepting without making themselves look like fools." Gods, I hope that's true. "Let's go tomorrow."

"And what about V?"

"You're right. We have to shield her from this as much as we can." How can we avoid getting Viola involved? Every secret that Gemma keeps from Viola muddies the water even further. But if we bring her into the fold, then she might try to stop us. "What if we go now? She's too unwell to notice our departure, right?"

She looks at me wearily and nods her head. "Okay."

I owe her more than a simple favor for this. I owe her my life.

* * *

Gemma managed to coerce one of the stable boys into letting us use two horses. It would be better to walk, but we'd never make it on foot. Not in Gemma's current state, anyway. And horses are less conspicuous than carriages.

As her wings curl tight into her back, bracing against the wind, I realize that she probably could have flown to Guylita's and must be riding just for my sake.

Miles from the palace, down the barren paths of the deadwoods, and into the eerily quiet forest, we gallop. Bobbing up and down to the horse's movements side by side.

At some point in the middle of nowhere, we slow down to get a break. She wipes her brow and says, "V and I used to ride together when were kids, before… we came here. It feels nostalgic to be back on a horse."

I smile, reliving a similar memory. "My father was a stable master. He loved horses more than anything - well, more than anything but us. My mom used to go out to the stables to honor my father after he passed. But after she died too, I lost all interest in it. It felt like a cruel joke to go riding alone. Everywhere I went, I saw their faces. Etched into trees. Painted in the mud. Even formed in the clouds. Their portraits followed me like ghosts. I couldn't face it alone."

She catches my eye as she says, "You're not alone, Radya. Both V and I are here for you – not as lady's maids, but as your friends. Truly."

I can tell she means it. Tears sting my eyes, and I have to wipe them away, smearing the salty liquid onto the back of my hand. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

And when she smiles, one little word echoes in my mind, friends .

"Tell me about Procullia." The land from which they were stolen.

"It's much warmer than it is here and very humid. The summers feel like stepping into a swamp. But it's green and hilly, perfect for riding. We're a peaceful country, maybe a bit proud," she tells me. "What about Carcera?"

"It's the opposite – flat and dark," I tell her. "You know, I used to dream of escaping. I thought if I could be somewhere else, then I might finally find a sense of belonging. I was a square stuck in a circle, never able to flatten my hard edges. Then I came here and a small part of me hoped that I could mold myself to Somne and become the person they wanted me to be. But I feel even less at home here. And I… worry that the place isn't the problem. Maybe there's something wrong with me."

She chews on her bottom lip as she bobs to the horse's movements. "Sometimes I think that I might be a square, too. But just because I'm surrounded by people who aren't like me doesn't mean that there's something wrong with me. It just means that I'm with the wrong people."

A tiny, dilapidated cottage comes into view. Gemma's slowing horse confirms that it belongs to Guylita. I search the premises for any sign of the invisibles. Unless they're hiding behind the trees in this dense forest, then we're in the clear.

"Thank you," I tell her before dismounting. "Not just for helping me meet with Guylita, but for being a friend."

"There's no need for thanks." She swings her leg over and hops off, letting her fluttering wings soften her landing. "Now, let's get this over with and never talk about this business again." Her voice hitches on the word business like she's afraid that the trees might be listening.

I follow her to the cottage, where Gemma nervously knocks on Guylita's weather-worn door. The frame quakes at her touch, and I worry that the whole house might crumble. A couple of minutes go by without an answer, so I take a turn banging my fist on the door. "Guylita? Are you there?" The silence is heavy and waiting for her to answer is like sinking into a dark abyss. "My name is Radya. We were supposed to speak at the ball last night, but you left before we had a chance."

"I have a bad feeling," Gemma says quietly. "We should leave."

"Let me try one more time." I bang even harder against the wood until my knuckles turn red.

Nothing.

A high-pitched yowl breaks the bitter silence, sending a pulse of fear zipping up my spine. I know that sound. Another one joins in, and then another, and then another. One after the other, the concos join together to sing their battle cry.

"Gemma, we have to go. Now!" The fear in my eyes must be clear because she doesn't hesitate to lunge straight for my hand to pull me toward the horses. We spring into action, abandoning our mission without another thought.

The horses are vocalizing their fear when we reach them, as if they know what's coming. My hands can't seem to move fast enough as I untie them from the tree. The howling turns into more of a vicious bark that's drawing nearer with every second. The thud of their large paws against the dirt reverberates through the forest. This must be a pack. Larger than any pack I've ever seen, at that.

"Quick, Radya! Do you need help?"

"No, no! I got it!" As the last loop loosens, my eye catches on the rustling trees. They're getting closer. I estimate at least twenty of them. The first one appears across the clearing. It stops, snarling and baring its great white fangs, and seems to wait on the rest of the pack.

I haven't moved. My mind is stuck – suspended in limbo between fight and flight. I can hear Gemma's screams, telling me to get on my horse, begging me to snap out of this stupor, but my feet refuse. They're frozen with fear.

"Please! Just get on your horse so we have a chance of getting out of here alive!" She says through the tears streaking down her face. In my moment of mental purgatory, I see the scene unfolding in front of us in what feels like slow motion. I imagine their claws digging into our skin, shredding us into ribbons.

The fear in Gemma's voice ignites something inside of me, pulling me out of the darkness, and urging me to protect my friend. I owe her my life, and I will do anything for her.

I close my eyes and drown out the noise of the herd getting closer, focusing only on my mind space. The pulsating fear gathers into a fiery orb inside my mind, and I grab it, allowing the heat to flow from my brain down to my fingertips. It's powerful and intense, ready to be seized. When I open my eyes and see more concos appearing, now running toward us, I push the heat out through my hands.

The conco at the head of the pack charges forward with hunger flaring in his nostrils. Fire arcs into the air in a spray of light, landing directly on the massive, bony creature. Its cries turn from predatory to pained as it shrieks and rolls over to extinguish the fur on its back. The concos emerging behind it come to a skittering halt at the sight.

A wall of fire begins to form between us. It's dancing high and wide, starting from Guylita's cottage and running through the clearing. I strain to keep it from consuming her home, using all of my mental energy to do so, but the flames envelop it within a matter of seconds.

"Let's go!" Gemma cries.

I hop on the horse, careful not to let go of that connection. And only once we're both riding, do let go of my focus. I refuse to look back to see what happens next. We keep our speed at full throttle until no signs of concos remain – no thudding paws, no vicious barks, no cries of burning pain.

Gemma's face is terror-stricken and tear-stained when we approach the path that leads back to the palace. "How did you do that?" She asks through panting breaths.

"I have no idea." Sir Magis taught me to conjure flames once, but never in a million years did I think that I would use it to escape a conco attack. I thought maybe I'd light a candle once or something. "Come on, let's head back to the palace before anything else decides to attack."

How did I do that?

All I wanted was to protect my friend, and the flames seemed to find me.

But Guylita's cottage… oh, gods. What have I done?

I am a monster through and through.

After everything, after all of these sacrifices, I still failed. Guylita wasn't even there. Maybe that's why I couldn't move when we first heard the concos. I was too broken, shattered by extinguished hope. Maybe I am so broken inside that death doesn't feel quite so scary. I lost all connections to my past the moment I left Carcera. Or, quite frankly, the moment my mother died. And, without Guylita's answers, I lost hope for the future, too.

I'm stuck between past and future, hope and despair. I am numb to the fate that awaits me.

"Gemma?" I ask when we're nearly in sight of the palace walls.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone about the concos, please."

Despite the confusion written on her face, she nods.

I don't want anyone to know what I'm capable of. For once, I want to be the one that holds a secret.