SEVENTEEN
“IT IS ONLY A SHALLOW CUT,” THE HEALING WOMAN said as she pressed a cloth to Aurora’s side. The wound stung under the pressure, but Aurora refused to wince. “It looks a lot worse than it is.”
“Good,” the queen said. She stood behind Aurora, her face pale. “What needs to be done?”
“Very little,” the woman said, and she peered at the cut again. “I will clean it and bandage it, and as long as she doesn’t do anything strenuous over the next few days, it should heal fine.”
Aurora nodded. What strenuous things could she possibly do? Move the furniture around her locked room? The light poured in through the queen’s high windows, making the room look unnaturally cheerful. Aurora felt cold and faraway. She had to wait up here until the healer gave her permission to move, until the square had been emptied and the guards had searched the castle, hunting for any lingering threats. Rodric had been swept away as soon as they reentered the castle, leaving Aurora with her fretting future mother-in-law. The queen’s lips were thinner than Aurora had ever seen before, and she seemed to be having trouble standing still. She paced the room frequently, and even when she stood in one place, she twitched her skirts every few seconds.
“Will it leave a scar?” the queen asked.
“I do not think so, Your Majesty. But perhaps.”
They talked back and forth, the queen sounding increasingly peevish, but Aurora stopped listening. She glanced toward the sunny windows. Had the guards caught Tristan, or was she the only person who had seen him, watching the scene from the rooftop?
She had been such a fool to trust him. Even after he had told her his intentions, she had done nothing to stop him. She had not thought he would hurt innocent people. She had not thought he would hurt her.
The healer dabbed a wet cloth against Aurora’s side, cleaning the blood away.
The queen continued to pace the room. Her knuckles were white where she gripped her skirts.
The healer tied the bandages in place. They covered Aurora’s whole stomach, crisp and white against her pale skin.
“Thank you,” Iris said as soon as she was done. “You may leave us. Please attend the princess again this evening.” The healer curtsied and shuffled away.
“Do you believe me now?” Iris said as soon as the door closed again. “I knew something like this would happen.”
“Yes,” Aurora said. “I believe you.”
“There will have to be some new rules,” she said, sweeping across the room to look out of the window. “This cannot be allowed to happen again.” Now that the only other witness was gone, she did not even pretend to be calm.
“What’s going to happen?” Aurora asked. “Is there still to be a wedding?”
“Of course there is still to be a wedding,” the queen snapped. “We are not going to let a few noxious weeds destroy the most important day this kingdom has seen in a hundred years. But we are going to need to take extra precautions to ensure your safety.” She spoke quickly and precisely. “Once the castle has been properly searched, you are to remain in your room until further notice. No walks in the garden. No afternoons with the court. No brunches outside. If you must leave, you will be provided with a guard to accompany you at all times.”
“But—”
“Do not interrupt me, Aurora.” Iris’s face turned red. “You must listen and be silent, for once. Do you understand me?”
Aurora nodded.
“Good,” the queen said. “I am glad you will cooperate.” She stepped away from the window. “I wish they had given us more guards here,” she said. “We really do not have enough. We must search every inch of this castle, and interrogate all the people they caught in the square—”
“Is that necessary?” Aurora asked. She did not want more innocent people arrested or punished because of her.
“Do you think we would be making such a fuss if it were not?”
“It’s just—” She looked down at the ground, remembering the people huddled by the city wall on that dark night, their faces blank with hunger. “They must think what they’re doing is right.”
Aurora half expected Iris to snap at her, call her a na?ve idiot of a girl, but instead, she sighed. “I was once like you,” she said. “Trusting. It didn’t work out well.”
“What do you—”
“Four years ago was our last big rebellion,” she said. “The biggest one since my husband became king. Drunken crowds stampeded the castle. They killed our guards. Our servants. Innocent people outside were crushed in the rush. My own personal maid was murdered in the street, just because I sent her out on an errand. They are animals, Aurora. They don’t have morals. They want to ruin us, and they don’t care who else they destroy in the process.”
Aurora swallowed. She could not stomach the thought of Tristan’s involvement in something like that. In murders and mobs screaming for blood.
Someone rapped on the door.
“Come in,” Iris said. A messenger stepped into the room.
“The guard who attacked the princess is in the dungeons,” he said. “We have arranged a public execution for tomorrow morning.”
“No!” Aurora said. She stepped forward with a jerk, and her side throbbed in protest. “It was an accident.” She did not want him to die for her.
“He was reckless,” Iris said. “We cannot have people hurting you without consequence.”
“Then choose a smaller consequence.”
“Do not talk about things you do not understand,” the queen said. “A smaller consequence is no consequence at all. If we show leniency, this will happen again.”
This is my fault, Aurora thought. If she had not run into the crowd, the guard would be safe.
But then the girl he attacked might well be dead, and no one would have punished him for that.
“It is wrong,” Aurora said. “You cannot kill him.”
“I can,” the queen said, “and I will. Thank you, Stefan. That will be all.”
The messenger bowed.
“Did you catch who was responsible?” Aurora said quickly. “For the disturbance?”
The messenger glanced at the queen. “We will, Princess,” he said. “Do not worry.”
So they had not yet. Aurora felt a spike of relief. Tristan was not the person she had thought he was. But she could not wish him dead.
If she told anyone what she knew, she would be slipping the noose around his neck.
The sun had set before Aurora was allowed back to her room. She walked with two guards on either side, their footsteps echoing along the empty corridors. One floor above Aurora’s own, one of the guards paused.
“Why are you stopping?” a second guard said. “This isn’t her room.”
“No, I know.” The guard frowned, as though he wasn’t sure why he had stopped either. “I—I heard something.” He glanced behind him.
“I didn’t hear anything.” The other guards looked back too. At first, Aurora could hear nothing but the dim sounds of the castle, the whistle of wind through the stone and the sound of faraway footsteps. Then she heard a whisper mingling with the wind, half singing, half laughter. The song crept along the inside of her skin, a memory of a memory.
When the guards glanced back, their faces were blank, like they were focused on something much farther away than the end of the hall.
“What’s wrong?” Aurora asked. They did not respond. She grabbed the arm of the nearest one and tugged, shaking it. The guard was still breathing, but he did not react. His mind seemed to have been sucked away.
Aurora stumbled backward. She turned, preparing to shout.
A light glowed at the end of the corridor. Green, indistinct, shifting like water.
The song, the light . . . she knew them.
Celestine.
The memory tugged at Aurora, light bobbing out of reach, the urge, deep in her stomach, to see where it led. Her finger slipping against something sharp.
It was impossible. The witch could not be here, not after a hundred years had passed. But the light slid closer, so familiar, so certain. If Celestine could make Aurora sleep a century away without aging a day, her own survival could not be beyond her power.