The Madness Project (The Madness Method) (13 page)

I did laugh, then, because it was all so absurd.  The Jixy
had disappeared in front of my eyes, and somehow Von thought that adding a few
more guards at the gates would do a lick of good. 

Dr. Besdin emerged from my father’s room. 

“Your Highness,” he said, and nodded toward the bedchamber
door.

I shot one last glare at Von and Farro and followed Besdin
into the dark room.  My mother sat by the bedside, her face a quiet flicker in
the crack of light that escaped the velvet curtains.  She met my gaze without a
smile, then released my father’s hand and rustled from the chamber with Besdin
on her heels.

I stood at the window, hands shoved in my pockets, peering
through the gap in the drapes at the city below.  I could feel my father’s gaze,
but I couldn’t trust myself to look at him.  Not yet.  Not with the smell of
blood and antiseptic and the spicy odor of laudanum thick in my nose, heavy as
the stink of death.

“Tarik,” he said.

The name ground out, hoarse and pale in the shadows.

I gritted my teeth and said, “I’m going to kill him.”

“That’s not your job.  Come here.”

I sat down in the chair, pressing my knuckles against my
teeth and staring at the white bandage on his chest where the blood had already
started to seep through.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much,” my father said, his
eyes fixed on my face, the wide pupils swallowing almost the whole of his
silver-blue irises.

I let out my breath, hating the way my face turned traitor
on me.  Tears burned behind my eyes, and I had to glance away to force them
back.

“You know I do,” I said.

The silence drifted between us, drawing out as seconds
turned to minutes.

“Will you be all right?” I asked, when I trusted my voice
again.

“I’ll live.  Tarik, listen.  I meant what I said.  Finding
that shooter?  That’s not your responsibility.”

“Yes, it is,” I said.  “Your police will never be able to
find him.  I can.”

His brows arched, feebly.  “Is that so?”

I stared at the sliver of light swaying across the floor and
said nothing.

“I spoke to Kor this morning,” he said.

I jolted.  “Father—”

“Was he telling the truth when he said you dismissed him?”

“No,” I snapped.  Then, “Yes, at the time.  Things have
changed.”

“Indeed.”

I thought about apologizing, telling him that I’d been
wrong, but it felt false to me.  I’d meant it when I’d dismissed Kor.  I’d
thought I was in the right.  But things change.

“Your ministers want the gala to go off tonight,” I said.

“I told them to see to it.”

I groaned and buried my head in my hands.

“Don’t disappoint me,” he said.  The words slurred a bit;
the laudanum had begun to work.

“I’ve already done enough of that, haven’t I?” I asked,
getting to my feet.  “I’ll take care of it.  Don’t worry.”

“Tarik,” he said, his voice stopping me at the door.  “Try
to enjoy yourself a little.  It’s your birthday.”

I hesitated, standing there with my hand on the latch.  “Is
this the beginning of it, then?” I asked, quietly.  “The anarchists?  Are they
trying to bring down our family?”

He sighed and struggled to sit comfortably.  I watched,
unable to move.

“Everything is different now,” he said, his gaze cutting
across the shadows.  “I’m not certain if it was the anarchists as a whole, or
just one isolated element in the movement, but…”  His voice faded and for a few
moments he stared vaguely at the wall, then he shook his head and focused on me
again.  “You were right.  This is what you have to do.  That assassin was a
mage, and Rivano’s got the most powerful mages.  So get in there, get close to
them, close as you can.  Infiltrate their organization if possible.  Find out
what they’re planning…ideology…targets…” 

He pressed his hand to his head, drew one long, deep breath,
and sat straight up.

“Bring me proof of their innocence, or bring them down from
the inside.  That failing, I will declare every one of them, and everyone who
has ever aided them, enemies of the Crown.”  His gaze hardened.  “They will
call for mercy, and I will have none to give.”

I let out my breath and nodded, and left him in peace.

*  *  *  *

Griff had arrived while I was in with my father.  He sat
with Samyr outside the apartments, hunched over his knees and looking paler
than I’d ever seen him.  As soon as he saw me he jumped up and grabbed me by
the shoulders.

“Holy stars, Tarik!  Are you all right?”

“My father’s the one—”

“I know.  I talked to your mother.  But are
you
all
right?”

“I’m fine.”  I pulled out of his grip.  “Just…stay away from
me for a while.”

“Why?” 

His face shaded red, the way it always did when he was
angry.  I studied him a moment, then just shook my head and held up a finger,
keeping him away.

“I don’t have to explain to you,” I said.

“Tarik, I’m your best friend.  Don’t cut me out right now.”

Zagger stood up, but I turned a warning glare on him and he
stayed put.  I was so sick of people trying to solve my problems for me.  So
sick of it.

“Tarik…” Samyr said.  “Please.  Don’t be like this.”

I glanced at each of them and backed a step away.  “What do
you all want from me?  What do you expect me to do?”

And none of them answered.  I turned and walked away, and
left them staring after me.  I would deal with them later.  But right now, I
had only one person I needed to take care of, and he was smoking down the hall
straight toward me.  At least I wouldn’t have to try to track him down.

“Kor,” I said.

He stopped in front of me, hat in his hands.  “Sorry about
your father, Tarik.  Is he—”

“He’ll be all right.”

“From the look in your eyes, I’m wagering the man who did it
won’t be able to say the same.”

“Look,” I said, eyeing him sidelong.  “I need your help.”

He arched a brow, feigning surprise.  “Really?”

“Don’t,” I snapped.

“So the deal is back on?”

“Yes.”

He smirked at me in the lamplight.  “I’ll see you in the
morning, then.”

I waited until he’d passed me, then I headed on down the
hall to the garden terrace.

I let myself out into the cold afternoon and leaned against
the stone balustrade, ignoring the wet that seeped through my shirt sleeves,
ignoring the cold that bit through me like anger.  Everything moped in a dismal
grey wash, dreary without the shine of new snow.  I always marveled how the
world could go from dazzling to hideous in just a few hours, as if the heat
pulled a mask from a horribly scarred face.

From this vantage point I could just glimpse the plaza below
where the public gala would be held.  The way the events had originally been
planned, we were all supposed to make an appearance at the plaza, then retire
to the palace for the party after the party with just my family and the
families of the Court.  Griff and I had always tried to sneak out of that part
of the event in years past, with varying degrees of success and resulting in
varying degrees of trouble, almost invariably of my own making. 

People who didn’t know us usually took Griff to be the
trouble-maker.  But for all he played at being reckless, he really was too
driven for that.  He’d always taken the fall for me, though.  I wondered now
why I’d ever let him.

I hated that I’d let him.

I hated that I was coward enough to let him.

Chapter 12 — Hayli

I’m not quite sure how Pika and I got back home.  Seems like
one second we went under in a stampede of panic, then next we were sitting
together on my cot, Pika with her arms like a manacle around my waist.  I think
the other kids kept gawping at us, but I couldn’t seem to get my thoughts to
line up and behave.  I just stared and kept staring at the floor, seeing
straight through it to Tarik with his hand outstretched and the revolver firing
off and everyone screaming as if he’d shot at them.

Pika shuddered.  I petted the wispy coils of her red curls,
like that could make it all better.  Like aught could.

A shadow fell over us.  That finally got me shook out of my
thoughts enough to glance up, because I hoped to see Derrin standing there. 
Instead it was Jig.  He wore a little frown on his pretty mouth, his arms
crossed tight over his chest.

“You a’right?  What’s got you in such a rut, Li?” he asked,
kicking at the leg of my cot.  “You been sitting there for half an hour, like.”

I narrowed my eyes.  “It’s your blithering fault, yeah?”

His arms flailed out, punctuating the question on his face. 
When I didn’t respond to that, he cried, “Wha’ve I got to do with it?  You and
me, we haven’t seen each other all day.”

“If…” I started, but then I remembered how Jig had taken a
fall for me, and my voice died, my throat fuzzy with tears.  I couldn’t blame
him.  He hadn’t done aught to deserve it.  For once.  “I didn’t mean it,” I
whispered.  “I just…I wish I hadn’t seen it.”

“Seen what?”

I hugged Pika and stared off across the room, letting out my
breath when I saw Derrin coming our way.  He had something like fear or worry
in his eyes, and it made me feel strangely unsteady.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” I told Jig.

He crossed his arms.  “You ganna tell Derrin?”

“Tell him what, Jig?  What’s to tell?”

“Wha’ever you won’t tell me,” he said, shrugging. 

He wouldn’t take his eyes off my face, not until Derrin came
up beside him and said, “Jig, scram.”

Jig tossed his head, but a minute and he backed down, and
slunk away to his own cot.

“Something wrong, Hayli?” Derrin asked.

I hesitated.  More than anything I wanted to talk to him,
but I didn’t want Pika hearing it all over again.  Poor kid had got enough of
it already. 

I put my hands on her shoulders and whispered, “Pika, I’ve
got to talk to Derrin.”

Some little muffled sound escaped her, fuddled by her face
buried in my lap.  I glanced at Derrin, asking help.  He crouched down and laid
a strong hand on her back.

“Hey kid,” he murmured.  “Want to go talk to Miss Nan in the
kitchens?  She might need some help.”

“No,” Pika said, vicious, turning her head to glare at
Derrin.  “I’m staying with Hayli.”

“Can’t, silly,” I said.  “It’s super secret stuff, right? 
But you can stay here on my cot if you like.”

She twitched with a shudder, but nodded and released me.  I
followed Derrin up to the smelly chicken-wire park and pulled myself onto the
wall.

“Now, what’s bothering, Hayli?  You girls looked scared out
of your wits,” Derrin said.

“Someone tried to kill him, right in front of everyone!”

He spun about, staring at me.  “Kill who?”

“King Trabin.  Pika wanted to see the motorcade so we
went…we saw the whole thing.”

Derrin studied me, hard, alarmed or angry I couldn’t tell. 
A minute and he linked his thumbs into his grey waistcoat pockets.  “Is the
King alive?”

“Don’t know,” I said, and my voice got caught up in my
throat.  “That’s not the worst of it, though.  The shooter?  He was a mage.”

“What?”

I flinched and nodded.  “I’m not a liar.  I saw him.  And
the prince tried to shoot him.”

Derrin gave a low whistle.  “You know, that’s more a
surprise than that someone would try to shoot the King.”

I shifted on the wall, frowning down at Derrin.  Somehow he
had me feeling prickly, and I didn’t really know why.

“What d’you mean?” I asked.

He made a little noise somewhere between a snort and a
laugh.  “The rogue prince?  Since when did he care about anything but himself
and his face plastered on the front page of every paper?”

“I don’t…” I started, but caught myself. 

I shouldn’t have an opinion about Tarik, much as Derrin
knew.  I’d heard the rumors too, of course.  We all had.  Tarik was a wildcard,
a madcap.  The Herald showed us the Prince who dazzled high society, but the
rumors chattered about all his mischief and defiance, as if he were two whole
different people.  But I couldn’t shut out that image of his quiet face, that
sad, still look in his eyes.  And that seemed like someone else entirely.  It
made my insides cold, now that I finally let myself remember it.

“I guess I’d heard some such about him and his pop…I mean,
the King.”

“Well, you don’t think he gets in the spits for fun, do
you?”

I scowled and chewed the inside of my lip.  “I don’t think
he’s like that.”

That got Derrin arching a brow at me, half-amused,
half-skeptical.  But he just shrugged and knocked the heel of his boot against
the ground.

“Who’d want to do it, Derrin?  Who’d want to kill the King?”

“Plenty of folks talk about it,” he said, cool as pie. 
“Once you step away from all the glitz and glamour up north-side, anyway. 
Hell, the king’s not responsible for all the laws but he sure doesn’t go out of
his way to change the bad ones.  Used to be the King who spoke for the poor in
the Assembly.  Guess Trabin forgot that somewhere along the way.”