Chapter 11

CHAPTERELEVEN

As I makemy way ashore, the only thing keeping me moderately calm is the sight of Ilona lounging leisurely, her head thrown back in laughter at something Zale said.

Not wanting to alarm her, I force a smile onto my face. Zale seems clueless about what has transpired behind the waterfall, and I prefer to keep it that way. Another lesson I learned from Mother is applicable here: Don’t let the enemy see your feelings. Playing it cool will give me the upper hand, so that’s what I’ll do.

Dash stands to the side, drying himself off before pulling on his leathers. Now it’s much easier to avert my gaze. I’m no longer tempted by his sculpted physique and attractive face. I know what lies beneath his outer shell.

Do the Vannyks know their top guard is immune to my vygora powers? Is he also immune to Mother’s? What are his intentions?

“What’s wrong, A?” Ilona says quietly as she rushes to my side.

“Nothing! For the love of the goddess, stop asking me that.” I brush her off, but she follows, lowering her voice so the men don’t hear her.

“Oh you are so full of it. You can try to lie to me, but I can read your emotions just as well as you can read any other person’s on this planet.”

Except for Dash.

“So it’s fine for you to keep things from me, but I can’t keep things from you?” I bark, nodding my head toward Zale. She stops short, chewing on her lip and looking away. She must know what I’m referring to, and I bet her cheeks are flushing red beneath that sunburn.

“When we’re at the palace, we’ll talk,” she says, and I nod. Appeased, she tells the men she’s tired and that we should head back. Gratefulness fills me. Ilona always has my back. These men and their secret intentions won’t come between us.

* * *

By the time we get back to the palace, my back is stiff from holding myself away from Dash’s touch. The ride was incredibly tense, and I’m surprised I even managed to get on the horse with him at all. What I really wanted to do was gut him with a sharp rock and leave his body for the jungle predators.

As uncomfortable as I am with killing, something inside me craves Dash’s death. There’s an insatiable urge for me to end his life. I’ve never outright craved someone’s death like this, and it must be because he assaulted me. He deserves any harm that befalls him.

When the four of us return to the palace, we part ways, leaving Pancake and Aife in the care of the stable hand. Ilona and I quietly agree to meet up in the library after freshening up.

Mother had told me to be nice to Dashiel, and I wonder if it’s her myndox manipulation at work, holding me back from murdering him the old-fashioned way. My insides are a bubbling pit of angry lava, yet I’m composed on the outside. Coincidence? It can’t be. Something is keeping me from slicing his jugular, and it isn’t my moral compass.

Trepidation tiptoes up my spine, a wave of exhaustion and confusion washing over me.

Mother wouldn’t do that to me—would she? She only wants what’s best for me. At least, that’s what I’ve always thought.

Why do I yearn to end another human’s life, regardless of what they’ve done to deserve it? And—though it’s a good thing—why can’t I act on it?

I grab a fresh pair of pants and a top, choosing to forgo shoes, and quietly slip out my terrace doors. By exiting this way, I can sneak around the perimeter and through the library window with none the wiser, especially Dash. He might be a snake, but he’s observant and intelligent. We can’t take any chances.

The terrace is barely illuminated as the sun departs, dimming further with each passing minute. The birds sing their evening song in the jungle outside my room, a colorful cacophony.

Sneaking around the soft ground barefoot, my heart racing, I feel like some kind of trespasser or wrongdoer. Part of me embraces the thrill. The rush that drives through my veins makes me feel truly awake. Alive. Usually, I only experience adventure through my novels, and as fun as they are, nothing beats the real-life exhilaration.

The adrenaline doesn’t overpower my feelings of disgust and anger for what Dash did to me though. My blood boils at the thought of him spoiling my perfect oasis.

Staying close to the smooth, pale stone of the palace, I pass a line of terraces and windows lined with draperies that conceal what lies inside. A few rooms down, an orange glow leaks from an open set of terrace doors, gilding the now-darkened patio. It’s a guest room, but I’m not sure who’s staying in it.

I move slowly, careful to avoid the arc of light. I’m almost free of risk when I hear the rumble of a familiar voice.

“—thought we weren’t meeting until later. Did anyone spot you?”

Dashiel Dargan.

That son-of-a—

Isn’t he supposed to be guarding my door?

He talks in a hushed, hurried tone to someone I can’t see. Creeping closer to the side of the palace, careful to avoid the light, I try to make out what’s being said.

“—hate what I had to do.”

“You can’t save them all, Dashiel. I admire your heart, but it’s unrealistic,” a soft, feminine voice replies. One I don’t recognize. “You can still do what you came here to do. Plans change. Feelings change.”

An exasperated sigh leaves his mouth. “I am trying. After today, she hates me. With good reason.”

“She doesn’t need to like you.”

“Logical words, but they’re spoken apathetically, Fatima.”

Fatima.

Who the hell is Fatima, and why is she sneaking around with Dash?

And are they talking about me?

None of it makes sense, but it hurts all the same. The betrayal slices me in half.

My nails dig into my palms as I ball my fists, counting backward from ten to stay calm before I do something impulsive like burst in there and give myself away. By hearing this conversation, I’m gaining an advantage. If I can figure out Dash’s plan, I can beat him at his own game.

He is going down.

“Do what you came here to do,” Fatima says.

There’s shuffling as someone draws nearer to the terrace. I back away, pressing into the wall as I try to blend into the shadows, making myself as small as possible. Dark clothes were a good choice.

A swift girl with dark skin and a head of tightly coiled curls slips from the room before dashing away into the dark forest.

My head pounds with confusion. I’m starting to think Prince Zale has no idea what his guard is up to—that this guard might not be who he says he is.

Is it possible Dash is working with whoever is threatening Stellaris?

I consider three options: I can relay what I’ve heard to Mother, take it to Prince Zale, or stay quiet until I find out more about what’s going on.

If I speak with Mother prematurely, I run the risk of her harming the Vannyks out of fear of self-preservation. If I speak with Zale and he knows what Dash is up to, I’ve ruined my chances to gather intel. I put myself at risk.

Ultimately, I decide to do what has served me well all these years with Mother: stay submissive. By acting like everything is normal, I’ll gather intel as I go. When it’s all said and done, I will take Dash’s life with my own hands. Even if I can’t use my power on him, I’ll do it the old-fashioned way. It’s how I’ll repay him for his traitorous ways.

Thank the goddess I didn’t sleep with him.

Allowing myself to breathe deeper at that welcome thought, I continue around the edge of the palace, coming toward the main hall and the library window. Ilona must already be there, because the curtains, normally drawn shut at night, yawn wide, the window propped open for me.

As I approach the window, ready to climb through, a few guards round the corner opposite of me, headed in my direction.

Dammit.

Running my hands through the grass, I find a decent-sized rock about as big as my fist and chuck it into the trees.

“D’ya hear that?” one of the guards asks the other. They turn toward the jungle, swinging their elemental staffs—charged by fire and offering them light—in that general direction.

Taking the opportunity, I launch my body through the library window, crashing into the side table and taking it down with me.

“Ow for fuck’s sake!” I yell, rubbing my elbow.

“That was the most dramatic entrance I’ve ever seen in my life.” Ilona jumps to her feet in surprise.

“Hurry, shut the drapes.” I gingerly push myself to a stand, holding my right elbow, which took the brunt of the fall. Once the window is shut and we’re fully concealed, I relax slightly.

“That entrance was unexpected,” Ilona says with wide eyes. “I get you wanted to ditch your nosey guard, but that was…It was something.”

Sighing, I flop into one of the wingback chairs. Ilona does the same opposite me.

“I don’t trust anyone right now,” I say.

Ilona reels back like I slapped her. “Ouch. That hurts, you know. I get that there’s a lot going on, but I thought we were—”

“I’m serious, Ilona.” I give her a pointed look before she can start rambling. “Obviously you’re the only one excluded from my ‘do-not-trust’ list.”

“Is that why you were in a mood at the falls? Something happened between you and Dash, didn’t it? I told you there was something up with that man.” She shakes her head, and her wild curls bounce around.

“Nothing happened, Ilona,” I say through gritted teeth. “He assaulted me.”

This catches her attention, and she gasps, pale eyebrows flying up her forehead. Scooting forward to the edge of the chair, she reaches over and takes my hands in her own.

“What do you mean, he assaulted you?”

“Straight-up held me against my will while he berated me, calling me a murderer and a slaughterer, before forcing himself on me.” When Ilona’s eyes begin watering, I clarify. “It was a kiss, nothing more, but still unwelcome.”

“Oh my gosh, A. I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m surprised you didn’t—oh wait, you couldn’t use your power, could you?”

“Nope.” My jaw sets as I cross my arms in front of me. Ilona knows about everything that has transpired between Dash and me, including how I met him as the vessel and how I can’t use my magic on him.

“You rode back with him and you didn’t even push him off the horse. I’m honestly surprised at your self-control, but I would’ve willingly left him in the jungle for the snakes had you told me.”

“That’s the thing; I couldn’t harm him. I wanted to. The urge was there and it still is, but I couldn’t.”

“I take it you haven’t told your mother?”

Shaking my head, I relay every detail of the story to her. As I recall the events behind the waterfall, something strikes me as odd. If Dash despises me as much as he seems to, why the hell did he kiss me? And thinking back, I realize it wasn’t even much of a kiss. Just a brief, bold touch of his lips to mine. He had me in a position where I was weak and alone. He could’ve done much more. Yet that was all he did. Not that it excuses his behavior—what he did was plenty terrible on its own. But why? What is he playing at? Why did he wait to confront me at the falls?

Too many questions linger, none of the answers making sense.

When I spill about the scene I witnessed on my way here tonight, Ilona’s mouth forms a small, surprised circle, and her fingers tap compulsively against her legs.

“I’m going to find out what Dash is up to, and power or not, I’m taking him down. As for Mother, I don’t trust her either.” I flick the jagged bangs out of my eyes.“We still need to talk to Cedrik. I wish we had done that instead of lollygagging around the island. Maybe then Dash wouldn’t have laid his dirty hands on me.”

“Hey,” she says, “this is not your fault. Don’t you dare play the what-if game or try to blame yourself.”

I glance around the library, grateful for the privacy. We are utterly alone, with nothing nearby but rows and rows of silent books to keep our secrets. It’s our private spot. A row of historical books catches my eye, and a thought pops into my head.

“What was that book you were reading the other day? The one about Paramour Falls?”

“Oh! Hakran Rediscovered: Island Folklore?”

“Yes. That one. Do you mind locating it for me?”

Moments from this past week flash through my mind: Zale bringing up Paramour Falls, practically begging to go. Dash asking what we know about our lore at the ball. I chalked both instances up to general excitement and curiosity; they are in a foreign land after all. But what if there’s more to it? Something neither is saying?

How did I miss the signs until now?

“I know you’ve had a long day, A, but that’s an unusual read for you. Are you sure you haven’t been out in the sun too long?”

When I give her a pointed look, she chuckles, rising to find the book. Angry red shoulders peek out from beneath the green nightdress she wears, a shade darker than her pink face. That could be the perfect excuse for visiting Cedrik later—retrieving the cream to soothe her burns.

When she returns with the thick, battered book, I flip open to the table of contents, locating the section about the falls. I whip through the pages, and Ilona scolds me to slow down before I accidentally tear them and I oblige enough to appease her. Finally I find what I’m looking for, and a sense of overwhelming defeat settles in my gut.

“Paramour Falls,” I read out loud. “Where two falls merge and two lips meet, hearts are joined, their power complete. A fated kiss to break the wall, releasing magic, two share all.” We exchange worried looks, and I continue reading. “It says a lover’s kiss beneath the falls opens the doors to power-sharing, where both abilities are accessed by those who join lips.” Scanning, I read more about some goddess named Davvinia and her mortal lover, Anwyr, who tricked her into a kiss beneath the falls to activate power-sharing. All so he could achieve immortality and rule like a god.

“Astrid…” Ilona says, but she sounds far away. Her words blur as my ears start to ring.

As far as I know, Dash doesn’t have power to share, unless I’m counting his capability of blocking my magic. Plus, I would have felt if I gained new powers, right? So, what was it then? He stole a kiss from me. Tricked me. All to what, gain access to my power?

According to the lore, Anwyr was a mortal. He didn’t have any power of his own, yet he was able to access Davvinia’s. Maybe a fair trade isn’t required. Maybe Dash took without giving anything in return.

My throat thickens as panic sets in. Ilona’s mouth is moving, her face pale as she connects the dots herself, but I can’t hear anything she’s saying. Closing my eyes, I work to regain control of my mind.

I need to make sure he didn’t take my power.

Please let my magic be there.

I focus on Ilona’s energy—on drawing it toward me.

Waves of concern and dread hit me. Following those threads back to Ilona, I exhale in relief. As much as I despise my magic, I’ve never been more grateful to feel it coursing through my veins, as strong as ever.

Slumping back into my chair, I rest my head in my hands.

“He didn’t take my power,” I say. “I’m able to read your emotions just fine.” But can he access it?

This is why Mother didn’t want anyone to know I was the vessel. Despite the seeds of doubt planted by Ilona and Dash, I’m still certain Mother has my best intentions at heart. She is protecting me, not stifling me, by keeping me hidden.

“What do we do?” Ilona asks.

“Murder that lying, manipulating bastard!” I screech, my vision going red with anger.

“Hey, hey. Take a deep breath.”

Instead, I scream so loud the doors blast open and two guards run in, evaluating the space for any threats.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” I yell at them, causing Ilona to flinch. Fear radiates from her, invading me as if I’m using my power on her. But I haven’t opened any connections between us. It stokes my own worry in return.

“Astrid,” she whispers, “I’ve never seen you this upset. I know it’s bad, but you’re you. You always keep your cool. We’ll figure this out together. Stay quiet and breathe.”

“Don’t tell me to stay quiet while some snake is slithering around my palace, stealing my magic. Worst of all, I was this close to liking the guy. This close.” I squeeze my fingers together for dramatic effect before laughing hysterically and gripping my hair with both fists.

Hesitantly, Ilona steps up to me, gently pulling my hands from my hair and wrapping her arms around me. I place my head on her shoulder and cry, letting tears overwhelm my vision.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I’m always under control; she’s right. Now I’m raging and crying—bawling my eyes out—for the first time in goddess knows how long.

“I think something’s wrong with me,” I whisper, feeling defeated.

“Come on. Let’s go see Cedrik. He can help.”

Leaving the library, we scuttle arm-in-arm through the palace corridors toward the servants’ wing.

As we round a corner, I slam into someone.

“Astrid Lucille Sylano!” my mother bellows. I back up a pace, mumbling an apology to the leathered chest I ran into. Luckily it’s not my mother’s, only a random Hakranian guard at her side. “I have not raised you to run amuck through the palace halls.”

“I apologize, Mother.” My head dips automatically in a quick show of respect.

“Where are you headed with such a fire lit beneath your feet?”

“To see Cedrik,” I say.

Ilona keeps her eyes downcast, visibly uncomfortable with the confrontation.

“To retrieve a hair-growth serum, I do hope.” She runs a blood-red claw through my short locks, her mouth pinched in a frown. “This is a disgrace.”

“I like it, Mother,” I say, irritation rising. “We’re retrieving a cream for Ilona’s sunburn.”

Ilona shrugs her sleeve down a little, showcasing her reddened shoulders, but Mother’s black eyes don’t leave my own. If she notices I’ve been crying, she doesn’t say anything.

Because she doesn’t care.

“You will retrieve a serum for your hair as well, and you will not mutilate yourself like this again,” she says, her tone low and threatening.

I nod enthusiastically, in an effort to end the discussion faster, and she seems appeased. Without another word, she resumes moving down the hallway, leaving us behind.

“Goddess, she is in a particularly vile mood this evening,” Ilona whispers. She grasps my forearm with both of her thin hands, gasping. “Astrid, do you think that was one of those manipulation moments? Did she just try to myndox you into fixing your hair?”

Pausing, I think of Mother’s menacing tone as she delivered the order. “I’m not doing it. So no, she couldn’t have. Come.” Looping my arm through hers, we gently tap on Cedrik’s door. A moment later there’s some scuffling and a heavy sigh, and his door creaks open.

“Princess! What a surprise.” His voice is gruff, harder than his kind eyes and warm smile. He reaches out to gently grab my hand, closing his eyes for a moment. After a beat, they fly open and his face pales.

No doubt he’s using his vygora powers on me. The wounds he finds aren’t physical this time. I pull my hand free of his, not wanting him to comment on whatever he feels there.

“We’re here for sunburn salve,” I say, pointing to Ilona. She should’ve taken care of that first thing; it can’t be comfortable. “I can’t handle any more upsetting news today, so I need you to care for my friend first.”

Cedrik tilts his head in concern before shifting his brown eyes to Ilona.

“Come in, my dears.” Holding the door all the way open, he allows us to enter his suite.

I’ve been here a couple of times over the years. It’s a larger space than the other staff is offered, doubling as a clinic. One corner of the room is blocked by privacy dividers—likely where his bed and personal belongings rest. The remainder of the room is filled with shelves of tonics, potions, and salves. The wall with a large window is blanketed with hanging herbs in various stages of dessication, colors ranging from vibrant green to dark brown. A large table and two cots are pushed against the wall to my left, where he treats his patients.

“Sit, sit.” He motions toward the cots before shuffling over to the shelf containing small jars and creams. Ilona grabs a seat on a cot, dangling her feet over the side. With a wince, she tenderly peels off her shirt, baring her irritated skin so the healer can easily access the worst of the burns.

Leaning against the door, I cross my arms and ankles, watching the old man work. He mixes a cream with a few drops of liquid, stirring it methodically. Looking over his shoulder, he offers me a soft grin.

“Drops of aloe and lavender,” he says.

Once it’s prepared, he approaches Ilona and begins slathering the cream on her shoulders and back. She hisses at the initial touch, sitting up taller.

“It will only burn for a moment, dear.”

“Thanks, Cedrik.”

“My pleasure.”

Silence falls on the room as he works, slathering her skin with a generous layer of cream.

“Thanks for your work the night of transference two weeks ago,” I say, trying to see if he remembers anything.

Turning slightly, he gives me an odd look. “You mean healing your mother’s vessel? I didn’t know you cared for it.”

As I cringe at the way he says it, my suspicions are confirmed. Mother succeeded in something beyond a basic mental influence—she fully altered his memory of that night. The effects of her myndox powers are lingering beyond the typical reach.

Time and distance had no effect on her powers, doing nothing to lessen her hold like it should have.

“Have you seen Mother since then?”

“Only in passing. She has not had reason to seek me out. A favorable thing, I’m certain.”

When he’s finished, Ilona puts her shirt back on.

“Princess. May I have a word?” His head leans toward Ilona. “Alone?”

After I nod at her to wait in the hallway, she exits obediently, leaving Cedrik and me alone.

“About your…situation,” he begins, likely referring to the spontaneous anxiety I’ve seemed to develop. “Something is…off with your magic.” His words are slow, cautious, like he’s testing the waters.

He doesn’t remember the night of the transference, so he won’t remember telling me to consume more life force to keep up my power and strength. He doesn’t know I’m the vessel—the only vygora capable of transference. Not wanting to get him sentenced to death or subject him to Mother’s rage, I pick my next question carefully.

“What do you think the problem is?”

“I’m not certain, but there seems to be something…new…different circulating with your magic. I can feel it, but I am unsure.” His frown grows deeper. “There are tonics that might help settle your emotions, numbing agents of sorts, if you’d like.”

Shaking my head adamantly, I tell him I’d prefer to keep a clear head. The last thing I want is to numb myself while in the middle of this invisible war that seems to be taking place.

“Thank you, Cedrik. Truly.” I give his hand a solid shake, thanking the weathered man and ignoring his concerned expression before turning to exit, leaving him in peace.

Ilona greets me in the corridor. “What’d he say?”

“He has no idea what’s wrong with me,” I say dryly. “Something’s wrong with my magic, and I bet Dash’s kiss had something to do with it. He poisoned me with his toxic lips, Ilona.”

“I’ll help you take him down.” The words sound out of place on her tongue, but she succeeds in coaxing a grin out of me.

“You’re a true friend. Luckily, I feel a little more stable now,” I lie, not wanting her to know how on edge I am. I’m vibrating with anger, sadness, and confusion, like a bomb getting ready to explode.

“Maybe,” she says, but her voice is high-pitched and nervous. “So, your mother is capable of more than anyone knows.”

“Everyone’s a manipulator.” My chest burns with fury. I can’t trust my own mother. Can’t trust the man with the honey-gold eyes and dimpled smile. Can’t trust the unassuming prince and his kind parents.

“Hey, you’re not alone. You’ve got me.” She pulls me in for another hug, and I breathe in her sweet lilac scent.

I wonder if she’d still say that if she knew what a monster I can be. I can’t imagine she’d be so quick to offer me comfort. Guilt threatens to bubble over, but I press it down like I always do.

Breaking the embrace, I push her in the direction of the kitchen. “Go get your lemon-ginger tea. I’ll meet you back in the library for a reading session.”

“I’d rather not leave you right now, especially since I’m all that you have. You’re clearly having a bad day, and I don’t want you to be alone. What if you run into your mother again, or Dash, or—”

“Ilona, you’re rambling. I’m fine. I’m the most powerful woman in Hakran, remember?” I repeat the line she says to me every bacchanal.

Her lips curve up, but the worry line on forehead stays.

“But—”

“Say hi to Marnie for me.”

Speeding past her, I don’t give her the chance to object again. She might not want me to be alone right now, but I can’t risk her getting caught in the crossfire of the storm that’s brewing inside of me.