“Tell me a story,” I beg as I writhe on my sweat-dampened quilt. After all, whatever dignity I once possessed is long gone. “The happiest one you can think of.”
Meredy’s eyes widen. For an agonizingly long moment, the only sound is my ragged breathing. At last, she says stiffly, “When I was nine, Evander squished my pet caterpillar by accident. I suppose he must’ve told you about it, because the first time I met you, you brought me a whole jar full of them—green ones, black-and-yellow ones, and a huge white one. You named it Pearl, remember?”
Some expression flickers across her face—amusement?—but fades as her voice becomes a whisper. “You looked like a princess that day, standing on the manor step with mud on your boots and leaves in your hair and all those caterpillars you’d found for me. I remember thinking I’d never met anyone as in love with the world around us as I was, until you.”
I can’t answer, not with the pain stealing my breath, but I’m sure I return her smile for a moment before the darkness pulls me under.
*
I’m losing track of the days. Or I was, until earlier this morning when Valoria gave me a piece of charcoal to make a slash on the wall for each potion-free night I survive. Now I draw my sixth mark above the bed, then munch on a piece of dry bread as Valoria frantically scribbles something in another notebook.
“Working on the air balloon?” I rasp. Aside from my dry throat and a dull headache, the potion’s absence hasn’t made me want to leap off a cliff or brought any fresh nightmares of Evander’s final moments in the last few days—much to my surprise.
“Mmmm, no,” Valoria murmurs. It’s a wonder she’s talking to me at all, after the names I called her and Meredy during the worst of my potion withdrawals.
Even yesterday, my body faintly shook through most of the day and night. But this morning, as I curl and uncurl my hands, checking for any hint of trembling, I mostly feel tired. Worn, like the leather of my necromancer’s belt. And restless. I’m ready to rejoin the world beyond my window, but Valoria insists we wait the full seven days, which means one more day at her mercy.
At least they finally removed the shackles so that I can feed myself again, although it’s clear that if I try to make a run for the apothecary, Lysander will stop me cold.
The sun slowly climbs higher in the sky as Valoria’s quill scratches the page.
“Have Jax and Simeon been by again?” I ask, interrupting her scrawling. They’ve come to see me every day, and each time I’ve had Meredy and Lysander turn them away. I don’t want anyone else witnessing my humiliation, but now I’m feeling ready to face them.
According to Valoria, they still haven’t found any trace of Vane, but people in the Ashes certainly know him by reputation. It’s only a matter of time before Jax finds someone he can bribe or intimidate into giving up the rogue’s whereabouts. But if he hasn’t made progress by tomorrow, I’m taking over.
I’d use Lysander to track the man’s scent, which should still be on Meredy’s bloody cloak. Jax and Simeon didn’t want to borrow the bear on their own, knowing the damage he could cause if he got loose in the Ashes. He may be the most civil bear in existence, but there’s wildness in his blood.
Valoria rubs her eyes, drawing my gaze back to her. She always looks tired, her stare vacant, like she’s been up all night working on something or other. But I’ve never seen her like this, fighting back a yawn every few moments and staring at the same page in her notebook for an hour at a time.
Her mother is still missing. Every search for the nobles who vanished on the night of Hadrien’s party has ended the same way. There’s no sign of what happened to any of them, though everyone agrees they were dressed for the celebration when they disappeared. All King Wylding has done is increase security. Even Valoria and I are out of ideas as to where to look or who would’ve kidnapped a random assortment of Dead nobles and dignitaries without demanding a ransom.
“Here,” she says suddenly, holding out a torn page from her notebook. Her voice quivers slightly. “So you can see him whenever you like.”
I struggle to form words as I run my fingers delicately over the page, careful not to smudge the likeness of Evander grinning up at me. She even remembered the little scar above his eyebrow. “This is incredible, Valoria. Thank you.”
“It was nothing,” Valoria insists, her cheeks coloring. But we both know that’s not true.
By the time I finish tacking the drawing on the wall above my bed, the princess is already immersed in another work of art. Waving doesn’t get her attention, so I cross to her chair by the window. She doesn’t seem to notice until I lean forward, blocking the light.
Gasping, she closes the notebook with a snap.
But not before I see the painstakingly detailed illustration on the back page.
“That’s a very handsome drawing.” I try and fail to hide a grin as I plop down on the rug by her feet. “Jax will be thrilled when you show him.”
Valoria shakes her head, her face turning tomato red. “I’m not going to show him,” she squeaks. “I just—I draw people whenever I need a break from my work.”
“Oh? Who else?” I make a grab for the notebook. I know it’s not nice, and I know she only locked me in here for the past six days for my own good, but I can’t resist the urge. I want to see her squirm a little. “Come on,” I beg as Valoria clutches the notebook to her chest. “We’re friends. You can show me!”
The princess purses her lips and grips the notebook tighter than ever. “Try to touch this book again, and I’ll feed it to Lysander. I swear I will.”
“Fine. Fine.” I hold up my hands, wincing as something tightens in my chest. “But when it comes to Jax, there are a few things you’ll want to know. Ask him what his tattoos mean. All twelve of them.” Valoria opens her mouth to say something, but I continue softly, “Ask him about how he believes he’s going to die, all because of some dream about ice. Ask him why he’s afraid of the sea. Cook him the spiciest dish you can find, and when he starts to panic that you’re getting under his skin, be patient with him.”
“Odessa,” Valoria says slowly, the color fading from her cheeks, “how close are you and Jax, exactly?”
“He’s like a brother to me,” I say firmly as Meredy bursts into the room, bringing the scents of wood smoke, crisp leaves, and cider.
“Morning, all,” she says coolly.
“Meredy,” Valoria murmurs, trying to recover herself. “You’re just in time. I was about to see if Sparrow wanted a bath. Why don’t you accompany her—?”
The princess doesn’t even get her last words out as Meredy and I both say, “No!”
Valoria arches her brows, looking between us.
My face burns, though I’ve no idea why. Meredy gazes out the window, avoiding us both.