Impulse (9 page)

‘But I don't pity you. I didn't say—'

He snorted. ‘It's the way you look at me. Like you know things about me, about Marin. Things I don't know myself.'

‘But I do know things. It's the truth.'

He scratched his head with his free hand and pulled me in with the other one before he planted a kiss on my
forehead. The feeling of his lips against my skin made me delirious; if I hadn't had such important words to say to him right then, I would have tilted my head up and tried to kiss him back, on the mouth.

‘Please,' I said, before taking a deep breath. ‘I've got something to tell you. Just listen to me this once, please, and I promise I won't ever mention it again.'

Marko frowned but nodded. I sat down on the edge of his bed and he leaned against the wooden post and folded his arms. ‘I'm listening,' he said.

‘Okay, remember when I told you about the book I saw at Damir's, just after you rescued me?'

Marko wet his lips with his tongue and nodded once. ‘You were concussed and very confused at the time but you mentioned something about my grandfather's book. A Hans Christian Andersen tale? I've never seen it before.'

‘No. No. A different one. Remember that time you caught me in your grandfather's room? I found a book that day. It was a book with diagrams in it—on how to operate on a female human and gradually transform her into a mermaid.' I shivered. When I looked up, Marko's face was screwed up with distaste. He looked like he had plenty to say on the subject, but he kept his promise and remained silent.

‘Well, that same book I later saw in Sylvia's room, when I had dinner with her, after you and I became…engaged.' My hands fiddled with the sun ring. Marko's eyes went there, too. ‘When I was Damir's prisoner, I saw the same book there, in his room. Sylvia must have given it to him.'

Silence greeted me.

‘For the entire year that I've been away from Marin, I was worried Sylvia would free Damir and perhaps hurt you or even destroy Marin.'

Marko remained frozen for a long time before he finally spoke.

‘So what you're saying is that you returned to Marin to save me from my sister, Sylvia, who hasn't, in this entire year, done anything to damage me or my kingdom.'

I gnawed on my nails. His reaction didn't faze me in the slightest. The cold, hard truth about his sister would be difficult to hear. I'd expected this. But the way he was looking at me, as though he didn't trust me anymore, made me nervous.

‘What about the book? Surely it means the two were communicating behind your back. It's worth investigating at least.' I sprang from the bed and started pacing. ‘Just ask her if she ever had it.'

‘You do realise that Sylvia has been like my mother for my entire life. She would never, ever, put me in danger.' His eyes were cold and frosty. ‘Though I care for you, Miranda, I resent that you'd think such a thing.' He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Damir is still in the dungeons, after all. Don't you think she would have gotten him out by now?'

He had a point. I kind of felt stupid now—for leaving my family, for coming all this way when he didn't even care about me or my concern. The least he could do was thank me.

‘But I was so worried about you.'

Marko stared at the ground instead of at me and said nothing.

I folded my arms across my chest and left his room, not looking back once.

After closing the door, I leant against the stone wall, trying to stifle the tears that wanted to be bawled, when a sharp edge of a stone dug into my back. I turned around.

To my surprise, when I ran my finger along its edge, a piece came loose and fell into my hands. I tried to poke it back into the wall, but it wouldn't stay. When I bent down to get a better look inside the hole in the wall, I saw something wedged inside of it. It appeared to be a book. Several minutes and many scrapes to my fingers later, I managed to coax it out.

The cover was red velvet, with a brass, button-fly clasp. After blowing and rubbing most of the dust away I drew the elastic off and opened it.

Robert H.
, it said.

I'd just found Robbie's diary.

T
HE DIARY FELT
hot in my hands. The right thing to do would be to put it back where I'd found it. It wasn't mine. Robbie hadn't intended on anybody finding it. Most likely he hadn't even had a chance to return to the castle to clear his room after I was gone. Sylvia had probably forced Marko to kick him out as soon as Robbie had returned from escorting me on the journey home to land. That was more likely than Robbie choosing to leave the castle of his own free will to become a gardener, of all things.

I could open it up and find out for myself whether or not Robbie had left of his own accord, to see if he'd had the chance to write in it after I'd left Marin.

The bed squeaked beneath me as I fell back against my pillow and hugged the book to my chest. I missed Robbie. He and I had become close during my captivity. But instead of reading his private thoughts, I'd go see him tomorrow myself. I knew my way well enough around Marin; and anyway, Marko would most likely have a guard tail me, so it would be safe enough for me to venture out on my own.

I rolled over and knocked the journal onto the floor. The button came off and pinged across the floor, allowing
the book to splay open. I picked it up, intending to put it straight back into its hiding place in the wall. But before I closed it, an image caught my eye. He'd sketched a full moon up in the sky—a memory from his other life as a little boy in Cornwall, England. So he did miss the world above, as much as he liked to deny it. He'd also drawn two sharks, circling. The poor guy was probably still having nightmares about his time in the Colosseum tank.

With a loud snap, I shut the book, feeling bad for Robbie and a little dirty for glimpsing into his mind without permission.

As I shoved it back into the crevice in the wall, I thought about how strange it was that the drawings would have been done after his sentence in the Colosseum, and yet the book remained in his room. It meant that Marko hadn't made Robbie move out right away after I'd returned home, and that Robbie had, most likely, left the castle voluntarily. But if that was true, then why hadn't he taken his journal with him? Had he left it behind for Marko to find? Was there some kind of message within the pages?

The next day I looked for Marko to let him know I was off to visit Robbie, but he was at an important meeting, according to the blond guard posted at his door, so I decided to go ahead and take a gondola to the greenhouses anyway.

As I ascended the grand castle steps, my shoulders relaxed. There was something liberating about being alone and ‘outside'—albeit with a guard trying his hardest to remain unseen fifty metres or so behind me. Though I was uncomfortable with the idea of someone tailing me, the memory of the bearded guy in the hat and suit, who'd
given me that hard glare, made me feel grateful for the guard's company.

At the halfway point of my gondola ride, I got off and decided to walk the rest—even if it took me half the day. The fresh air, though simulated, made me feel invigorated and somewhat normal—not that I expected living in an underwater city to ever feel normal. An hour or so later, though, as the greenhouses came into view, the relaxation the walk had given me diminished.

Robbie.

My stomach clenched with nerves as I approached the narrow sheds. Would he be happy to see me? Or mad that I'd returned despite his warnings to stay away from Marin for my own safety?

‘Excuse me,' I asked a grey-haired man, who was standing at the glass door of the first of a long row of greenhouses. ‘Do you know where I can find Robbie?'

The man looked me up and down with narrowed eyes and spat at the ground.

‘The last house; the biggest one, out the back. Make sure you call out and make yourself known before you enter. You mustn't sneak up on him.'

‘Okay,' I said, thinking his request about not sneaking up on Robbie was strange. He was speaking about him as though he were a child who was easily upset by surprises.
Weird.

Running my fingers through my hair, I took a deep breath before walking to the very last greenhouse, the largest of the lot. The door was closed and made of a thick kind of canvas—not really good for knocking on to make myself known—so I opened it slightly and called out.

‘Hello? Robbie?' The air inside was wet and moist, pungent with earthly, grassy smells, and there were little
sprinklers sending tiny mists over the lush, vibrantly green plants.

No answer.

Something flitted towards my face—a butterfly, blue and white. I waved it away from the exit and back into the greenhouse before allowing the door to close behind me. More butterflies fluttered across my path, in a rainbow of colours. Some sat on shiny leaves, wings gently scissoring. It was ethereal, like I'd stepped into some kind of fantasy world—within the fantasy world I was already in.

‘Wow,' I whispered as I turned slowly to admire the mini-garden of Eden.

‘Who's there?' called a low, deep voice that I immediately recognised.

He stood with his broad back to me, hunched over something. As I moved closer, my heart pounding in my ears, I saw a tray of seedlings before him. His fingers, darkened with dirt, gently tended to the tiny green shoots.

I cleared my throat and Robbie spun around, his eyes darting across the room before settling on me.

‘Robbie…hi,' I said, coming to stand by the bench he was working on.

Something wasn't right. Though I was right in front of him, his dark eyes narrowed as though he was straining to see.

A bright green and yellow butterfly flitted between us and landed on Robbie's shoulder, its wings rising up and down as if in slow motion.

‘Miranda?' This time he looked right at me, eyes wide and a small smile at the corner of his lips. He moved forward, his hands out in front.

‘I'm right here,' I said, taking his outstretched hands, my heart thumping with alarm.

‘I know,' he whispered breathlessly. ‘I just can't believe that you're here. Who brought you?'

‘Marko,' I said. ‘He'd hidden a letter in the locket of the sun ring last year, inviting me back on my eighteenth birthday. He said I could return of my own free will, as a free citizen of Marin.'

Robbie's brow pinched, before he drew away and began transferring the seedlings into larger pots. ‘So you're staying at the castle?' he asked. Though I could sense a touch of bitterness in his voice, I could tell he was trying to keep it light and upbeat.

‘Yes—in your room, actually,' I said, but soon regretted my honesty after seeing his eyes darken. ‘I have…I have your diary.' When he didn't take it I left it on the bench.

A butterfly landed on the back of Robbie's hand, and remained there despite his fingers twitching.

‘I'm glad you're in my room,' he said, with a sigh. ‘At least Marko can keep an eye on you there.' He poked a seedling into the black earth. ‘Not all of Damir's men are in the dungeons, you know. There are still some out here, roaming the streets. Not that I've
seen
any…' A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

I swallowed down the hard knot in my throat.

‘What happened to you, Robbie?' I asked, even though, deep down, I knew already.

Robbie dropped the seedlings. After dusting the dark grains of sand from his fingers, he turned and stared at my face, but his eyes were slightly off focus. ‘Didn't Marko tell you?' He shook his head. ‘I'm partially blind, Miranda. My eyes go in and out of focus.'

For a long moment I didn't know what to say and just stood there, staring into his eyes until he turned away and started back on his plants.

‘How did this happen to you?' I finally asked, using the sleeve of my top to soak the tears that had escaped my eyes. Marko's warning on the beach, about the dangers of opening your eyes in the pods while travelling through the chutes, immediately sprang to mind.

Robbie sighed and leant forward against the bench, his head hanging down.

‘It doesn't matter how, really. I'm about fifty per cent blind now and forever. Nothing can be done. My days of being the king's head guard are over.'

‘I'm sorry,' I said, wishing I knew the right words to say.

‘No, wait.' He turned around, shaking his head. ‘I'm the one who should be sorry. You've been standing here all this time and I haven't even given you a hug. What sort of a welcome is that?' He grinned and his handsome face lit up before he smothered me in a great big bear hug.

Tears prickled my eyes and blurred my vision.

‘I'm okay, Miranda. Don't cry, please,' he said, as he stroked my hair. His words had the opposite effect and my shoulders began to shake as the tears came. But eventually, after several deep breaths, I managed to rein them in.