Echoes of Silence (12 page)

I allowed my ladies to gush over my diplomatic victory as they unpinned my hair and unbuttoned my clothes. My skin felt alight with fire, and I sat resolutely, determined to keep my emotions concealed behind a mask of stone. Inside, I couldn’t tell if I was angry, or frustrated, or elated. I felt only the turmoil of feeling so much at once.

Lucia tried to engage me in meaningless conversation, but I simply shook my head. I didn’t even know why I couldn’t speak. Was it because I had succeeded in calming the crowd? Because I’d seen and spoken with Oake for the first time in a year? Because the Prince had neglected to hold my hand the entire way back and now I craved the tranquility of his touch?

Whatever words he held inside, they would not be pleasant. I’d contradicted his tax policies for the outlying villages and presumed to tell him what to do with his prisoners. Neither would pass without consequence—either from him or his father—but I found a curious satisfaction among the emotions I felt. He’d seen what he would get from me if I became his queen. I could only hope I had appeared strong enough, for I needed to show him courage meant as much as magic.

When a single tear escaped, Helena sent Matu for a draught of tea and calming herbs. She supervised while I drank it, and I had no choice but to swallow the bitter liquid. I had much work to do, from discovering Castillo’s remaining secrets, to completing the protection spell on my door. Such spells could only be hummed under cover of darkness, for which there was plenty. But the draught forced the fight from my body, and I succumbed to the numbness, the beautiful emptiness, of sleep.

#

The following morning, my stomach woke me with loud protests of my negligence from the previous day. I found blueberry muffins and weak tea on the table in the courtyard and ate the first pastry in a matter of seconds. I licked my fingers clean while I paced from one end of the courtyard to the other.

The sun hinted at rising, but full light had not yet brightened the sky. I turned as the sliding door hissed open. Lucia emerged from the suite, a smile already in place on her face. “Echo, you rise so early.”

“Old habit,” I told her. “My grandmother said the best time for gardening came before the sun crested the mountains.” My smile wobbled on my face, but I kept it there, determined to relish the memory of Grandmother rather than push it away.

Lucia held her hand toward me, a gesture Olive used when she wanted to show me one of her bouquets. “Come with me,” she said, her tranquil voice almost calming the squeezing of my heart at the thought of Olive. What had become of her? “I will show you what we do before sunrise here.”

“Intriguing.” I placed my hand in hers and let her lead me through my rooms and into the hall. She took the first door on our left, talking about Helena and Greta as we went. I agreed with whatever she said, focusing instead on what spell-song I might be able to sing to discover Olive’s well being.

The hall opened up into an enormous sewing room, and my thoughts stalled. I stopped to take in the bolts of fabrics, silky and shiny, which encompassed the entire wall to my left. Four rows of sewing machines filled the space, and each had a woman working cloths and threads into stunning dresses.

“Oh.” I moved to the notions wall on my right. Tiny drawers held buttons, and ribbons, and petals.

“Since I’m your clothing matron,” Lucia said, closing the drawer of ebony beads I couldn’t tear my eyes from, “When I’m not attending to you, I spend most of my time here.”

“It’s wonderful,” I said. “I’ve never seen so much fabric.”

“You’re talented with a needle?” Lucia asked, though she wasn’t really asking. “Perhaps you’d like to spend your early morning hours here.”

I turned my attention back to her, a rush of gratitude filling me. “Could I?” I certainly needed an escape from my new worries inside this compound. “Thank you, Lucia.”

“Perhaps you would like to begin a dress today,” she said. “I saw this challis and thought of you.” She fingered a drape of black fabric adorned with flowing pink and mustard-colored flowers.

“Nothing like a ball gown, or something you would wear to dine with the Prince. But for lounging around in the suite.” Lucia handed me the cloth, that sisterly smile on her face.

I wanted to seize her in a hug, the same way I would Olive. “Thank you,” I managed, and followed her to an empty machine. While sewing, the nagging worries about becoming a queen and cleansing the magic faded.

#

Back in the courtyard, I nibbled on another muffin as I sorted through the returning unease inside. I felt much the same now as I had in those first hours after Grandmother had died.

Alone. Frightened. Too old for my years. I didn’t want for food then, as the neighbors had brought me loaves of bread and pots of stew before her death. Now, I didn’t even consider where my next meal would come from.

Then, I had been surrounded by those who cared about me. Now, here in the compound, I had the attention of three devoted assistants, as well as two guards who seemed to know everything about me. They possessed kindness and knew exactly how to give it.

I’d felt hollowed out at Grandmother’s burial service, despite the weight of Oake’s hand in mine. My life had been wrapped up in Grandmother’s. It had purpose with her. Without her, I’d wandered, lost in a land I didn’t understand and couldn’t navigate.

The glass door slid open, and Castillo appeared in the courtyard. He could possibly restore understanding to my life. “It is after midnight.” A playful smile curled his mouth.

“That it is.” I strode over to him and stopped inches from throwing myself into his arms, surprised by how much I wanted to.

He cleared his throat, moved to the table, and plucked a muffin from the basket.

“What of the prisoners?” I followed him to the table. “Did the Prince release them?”

He slid me a glance that I was learning to interpret meant
you said too much
. “He did. He’s quite anxious to please you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Castillo pinched off a corner of his muffin and chewed it slowly. Finally, he said, “Sometimes kings must make unpopular choices.”

I frowned. “Killing innocent people is hardly a popular option. Especially when he doesn’t even know it’s being done.”

Castillo bowed his head. “True.”

“But?”

“But nothing.”

“Did he seem upset that I—?”

“I cannot speak for him.” Castillo wiped his mouth. “I thought you performed brilliantly with the villagers, though your mention of prisoners caused quite a stir. Cris didn’t know of them.” He cleared his throat. “So, you said you wanted to investigate. What did you have in mind?”

I blinked at his rapid change of topics, and took a deep breath to center myself. “A detection spell. I need to know everyone who can do magic.”

Castillo took another bite of his muffin before nodding. “A detection spell it is.”

I’d sung with Oake countless times. Working song-magic with him had felt natural—even when I made mistakes I didn’t feel out of my league.

I felt none of that ease and naturalness now, with Castillo looking at me out of the corner of his eye and the first note of the song at the edge of my upper register.

“Will you start, or shall I?” he asked.

“I will.” I could control the rebound if I began. I cleared my throat before letting the first note fly free. Castillo didn’t have to be prompted to insert his voice into the melody, and suddenly the awkwardness of singing together evaporated.

I should’ve expected to be able to sing with my bond free from worry. I’d never troubled myself over what Grandmother thought of me, and she possessed decades of experience over me.

We sang the spell through once, entombing the power in the compound. I’d forgotten how exhilarating working magic was. I’d been doing it under a heavy umbrella of worry and extreme side effects for over a year. But now, bonded to Castillo, I felt only the magic, and it was light as a misty rain, and warm.

Halfway through the second cycle, the rebounded images began to appear. People I didn’t know, most of them looking worse for the wear. I realized I was seeing the High King’s caged magicians. They appeared as if they could all use a good bath and a hot meal. I paused on one, a girl with earth-colored hair like Olive’s. But her eyes were the wrong color, and her skin disfigured with small scars. Relief flowed through me, though I hadn’t realized how worried about Olive I was until that moment.

I released each image to Castillo, seeing no reason to keep this information from him. It occurred to me that he probably knew all the magicians in the compound anyway.

Matu’s face popped up next, catching me by surprise. Helena followed him, as did Castillo, Bo, Gibson, and Cris. One of the girls, Mariana, also appeared, causing a frown to tug at my lips. I couldn’t decide if the storm in my chest was borne from jealousy or relief.

I sang the next note down a third, and the song changed to allow me to see what the magicians could do, and to what degree.

Bo, Gibson, and Castillo were all first-class magicians, with powers untold if trained and used with a bond. It made sense for Cris to be surrounded with his father’s most powerful magicians, though Castillo’s proclamation that he’d never met anyone as powerful as me paraded through my mind.
He
possessed first-class power, and now we were bonds.

Oake had told me that my power couldn’t be matched as long as I cultivated it properly. He’d challenged me in Iskadar, experimenting with elemental magic, and healing spells—Oake had been particularly talented in the healing arts—and earthen remedies. He called my training classical, and explained that I’d need to continue learning throughout my life.

Of course, that had all happened before the High King invaded Umon and it became dangerous to even hum to the peach blossoms. I hadn’t been cultivating my magic for a long time, but I could still remember every one of Oake’s lessons as if they were yesterday.

Matu and Helena were third-class magicians, and unbonded as indicated by their pictures coming in isolation. Helena’s image showed her performing that lifting, twisting hand gesture, and I recognized her as a future-teller. The hand gestures had been added centuries ago to give the general population something to look at while the magician hummed under their breath and entered their minds.

Matu opened his mouth, and a spell-song spilled out, though I couldn’t hear it. He didn’t look particularly graceful; his tongue didn’t know its way around a language. Suddenly he jerked his head to look at something beside him. He muttered, his lips barely moving, and pressed his eyes shut.

“Caster,” I murmured, recognizing the behavior of one who sent spells to find out how many people were approaching and what their temperament was. Or rhymes that brought light to darkness, or limericks that made a person see things that didn’t exist.

Perhaps I’d casted my father’s face into my own mind after persuading the merchant to sell me that thread for a lower price.

Mariana, an unbonded mage, was simply a fourth-class magician with talent that could be stretched and liberated should she find the right instructor. Oake could work her into a talented spell-caster.

I skipped over the sequestered magicians, and finally focused on Cris’s picture. He stretched one hand outward, indicating that his power came only through touch. I already knew he influenced emotions, though I didn’t have a label for a magician such as him.

“Find what you need?” Castillo asked.

I kept my eyes closed, still examining the image of Cris. His eyes radiated pain as he continually reached for something he would never grasp.

A pang of sadness spiraled through me.

“Don’t go feeling sorry for him,” Castillo said. “Don’t forget who allows Gibson to run things.”

I opened my eyes, effectively erasing the solemn image of the Prince. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”

He held up his hands, and I noticed a long scar running across his left palm. “My mistake.”

My anger deflated. “I’m sorry, Castillo. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

He moved closer, almost near enough to feel the heat from his body. “I know you’re under stress,” he said. “I can help.” He held that scarred palm out to me, and I slid my hand into his. The contact somehow felt more intimate than two bonds simply trying to keep each other grounded.

He hummed a song of comfort, and I leaned into him, burying my face in his shoulder. I added a trill at the end of his spell, successfully entering his mind. I only saw one image—me walking toward him with my hair streaming behind me like black ribbons curling in an early spring breeze. I recognized the dress I wore as one of my market day dresses, and I carried the bolt of cloth I’d purchased to make aprons for a chef.

The image flew violently from my mind. Castillo dropped my hand and stepped back, his eyes brimming with fury. “If you want to know something, you need merely ask.” His voice sounded like needles against cement.

“Why do you have that picture in your head?” I’d made those aprons months ago, perhaps near the beginning of winter.

“I’ve kept up with your doings.”

I sensed he had more secrets to share, and unless I knew the right questions to ask, I wouldn’t discover them.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, the fire dimming in his eyes.

“Yes,” I said, only telling half of the truth. I desperately wanted to trust Castillo, but until I knew everything I didn’t think it wise.

“Good, because I trust you, Echo.” Castillo leaned down and skated his lips across my cheek. “I must go.”

Before I could process the heat spreading from my skin to my core, he turned and exited through the sliding glass door.

#

The Prince didn’t call on me that day, nor the next. I secluded myself in my chambers, afraid to venture too far lest a spying pair of eyes found me. I felt the rumors and danger pressing against the closed door like a fog. I pushed back, first by completing the protection spell on the door to my suite.

Then I retreated to the courtyard and murmured a poem that would find my application and replay all who had touched it. Helena’s manicured nails gripped the edges of the paper first. She possessed my application in the present.