The Deceiver's Heart Page 10

  Lord Endrick stretched out his arm and a fire immediately burst across the entire garden. I reared back from the flames, but he grabbed my wrist. “How dare you?” he snarled.

  “Lady Kestra!” A young servant boy of Woodcourt darted out from behind the garden wall. “Your mother is calling for you. She begs you to come right away.”

  Lord Endrick glared down at me, then released my wrist, leaving it red and sore. “Go to your mother, child. We will continue this lesson another day. I will remember you …”

  With that, I’d startled myself awake, dripping with sweat as if I’d actually been next to that fire and not out here on a cold night. My heart pounded, and for several awful minutes I was sure I was about to be sick. Because deep inside, I knew that hadn’t just been a dream. It had happened.

  I didn’t close my eyes again that night. I didn’t dare.

  The dark morning gradually turned to dawn, and despite my every wish to remain curled up beneath this tree, I knew I’d have to face the day. I stood and only then realized that Simon’s satchel was on the ground beside me.

  I scowled under my breath, cursing my own stupidity. It wasn’t enough to kill him; I had to steal his most prized possessions too? The ring at least was heavy, so I suspected it could fetch a fair price at market. I pulled it out of his satchel and studied it.

  The gold band was plain on the outside, but it had an inscription inside. I held it up to catch the angle of the rising sun and read, “Behold with reverence the Scarlet Throne.”

  This was no ordinary ring. But if it was connected to the throne, then why did Simon have it?

  I dropped it back into his satchel, but it slipped between the weathered pages of his notebook. Not wanting it to get lost, I pulled out the notebook and it fell open as the ring tumbled to the bottom of the bag.

  There I saw a sketch Simon must have drawn, done so well that I recognized myself instantly. Except he’d gotten a few details wrong. My eyes never had the fire in them that he portrayed, nor had I ever worn the mischievous grin he’d drawn.

  I turned the page and saw more drawings of me, some of them only my eyes or a partially finished sketch. There were other drawings too, of places he must have visited in his travels or images that had captured his imagination. But again and again, his work returned to me. He couldn’t have done all of these since the other night when he took me from Woodcourt, nor even in the four days since I’d met him … if it had only been four days.

  I scanned the pages again, comparing myself to the girl he’d drawn. And I couldn’t help but think of the way he had described the girl last night who he later claimed was me. He admitted that he’d had feelings for her.

  For me.

  These drawings were my proof of that. No one could have drawn these the way he had, with such detail and care, if he was indifferent to the girl in the picture.

  And what if that girl had looked back at him through those mischievous, fiery eyes, and had feelings for him too?

  I felt worse than empty inside. Brushing back tears, I replaced the notebook and folded over the satchel flap, then hung it across my shoulder, the way Simon wore it. I had to return it to him, or if … if that was impossible now, then I’d give it to Gabe. Maybe Simon had family here in Antora, or someone who cared for him. They had the right to his things.

  The walk back to Simon’s camp seemed to take me ten times longer than it had to escape it. The closer I came, the heavier my steps felt, mostly because my thoughts were growing heavier than before.

  One question weighed on me more than the others: What if Simon was right—what if Lord Endrick had taken my memories? Because the more I pondered last night’s dream, the more real it became.

  When I approached the camp, Gabe was leaning against the side of the hill, clearly asleep. I tiptoed past him for one final look at Simon, who appeared far worse in the morning light than he had seemed during the night. The flesh of his cheeks had sunken in, his hair was damp with sweat, and his lashes were fluttering unevenly.

  I knelt at Simon’s side and touched a hand to his chest. It was rising and falling, though not as deeply as I would’ve liked. I stared at him, studying every detail of his face. How much younger he looked now, how innocent. I pulled a few broken pieces of late-autumn leaves from his hair. My hand lingered on his cheek.

  Had I known this boy once, maybe even had feelings for him? Did Endrick know that, rejoicing as he erased those memories? And if he had, then what else had Endrick taken from me? Last night when Gabe was angry, he had referenced something I was supposed to do for Antora. What could that possibly be? And was Simon trying to save me from this responsibility or trying to preserve me for it?

  Whatever it was, I needed to find the answers, but I’d hardly get help from Gabe. Simon was alive, and I’d returned his satchel. That had to be enough.

  At his side was a knife, still in its sheath. He’d offered it to me yesterday. If I was going to be on my own, I needed it now. As quietly as possible, I undid the latch holding the knife in place, then slipped it free. When I did, Simon’s hand moved to mine.

  I caught my breath in my throat. His breaths seemed lighter, but his eyes didn’t open. Did he know I was there?

  I put my other hand back on his cheek, and with that his face relaxed again and he released my hand with the knife. I rolled onto the balls of my feet, preparing to leave, when Simon began coughing.

  Gabe woke up to the sound and immediately noticed me, crouched in front of Simon with the knife over his chest.

  “No,” I said. “I wasn’t—”

  Gabe leapt toward me and yanked the knife from my hand, then shoved me away from Simon, keeping one hand gripped like a vise on my arm. In the commotion, Simon’s eyes fluttered again and this time they opened.

  “What …” he mumbled, then he saw Gabe with his knife and me nearly on my back. “Gabe, what are you doing?”

  “She was about to stab you,” Gabe said. “This, after poisoning you last night.”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t … I mean, I did poison you last night, but I wasn’t trying to hurt you just now.”

  “Then why are you here?” Gabe asked.

  I nodded toward Simon’s satchel, which I had left by his side. “I accidentally brought that with me last night. I couldn’t keep it, not after …”

  My voice trailed off when I saw Simon staring at me. I didn’t want him to know that I had seen the inscription on the ring or especially that I had seen his drawings … what the drawings revealed about his feelings for me. I didn’t want him to know what Gabe had said last night or that I had begun to have doubts about my memories. I couldn’t possibly apologize for almost killing him. I doubted a person could apologize for something like that.

  “Let her go,” Simon mumbled. “Gabe, please.”

  Gabe released me, and I immediately scrambled away from that knife.

  Simon closed his eyes a moment before opening them long enough to say, “Get me to Rutherhouse. That’s my only chance now.”

  “Rutherhouse?”

  “Bring Kes.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Absolutely not. Not after what she did.”

  He waited for a response, but Simon had fallen back into unconsciousness.

  “Will he survive?” I asked.

  Gabe’s glare could’ve melted iron. “Well, I don’t know, but how kind you are to ask. I’ll put Simon on my horse, and I’m going to ride fast. If you can’t follow, I’ll leave you behind and never look to see if you’re there. I’m only offering this much because Simon wants it.”

  I’d freed myself, but Simon was still far from safe, and I couldn’t rest until I knew he’d recover.

  He had to recover from this. He had to. Because if he didn’t …

  Tears filled my eyes and I quickly packed up our supplies and tied them to the same horse that Simon and I had shared last night.

  If he didn’t recover, I’d become what Lord Endrick had wanted me to be in that dream. And for the
first time I could remember in my life, I wanted to be as far from the Dominion as possible.

  With my help, Gabe lifted Simon onto his horse, though anyone who saw them would think Gabe was carrying an already dead body. Simon was laid over the saddle facedown with his arms flopped over his head.

  “Don’t look at him like that,” Gabe said, scowling at me.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you had nothing to do with the reason he’s unconscious. Get on your horse.”

  I climbed up on the horse Simon had been riding, gave it a pat on one side, then shook the reins the way Simon had done. Nothing happened at first, but when Gabe’s mount trotted out, my horse followed of its own accord. Gabe glanced back at me then picked up his pace. Fortunately, by now, I’d developed a feel for riding. It came as naturally to me as if …

  As if I’d done this many times before.

  I mulled that while keeping within easy sight of Gabe. I knew he’d have questions for me, and whatever I said, he’d twist my words faster than I could defend myself.

  Though if Simon died, I’d have no defense. I wouldn’t even try.

  The problem was that I had questions for Gabe too. I caught up with him and asked, “What happens when Trina gets to that camp?”

  “She’ll probably regroup with Wynnow and the other Coracks searching for you. That’ll buy us some time.”

  “Does Trina know about Rutherhouse? Will she lead the Coracks there?”

  “I don’t know. I should take Simon to the Coracks. Loelle could save him, but again, everything has to revolve around you, doesn’t it?”

  “He asked you to take him to Rutherhouse. I didn’t.”

  “Because it’s safer there for you, not for him!” Gabe rode faster, then shook his head and slowed again enough to ask, “Do you remember Celia?”

  Celia? There was nobody in my life with that name … that I remembered.

  “She was your handmaiden for a while, until you drove her so insane that she joined the Coracks. She told me once that being difficult was woven into every fiber of your existence. That you never chose to be a problem for everyone around you, but you didn’t have the choice to be any other way. She told me there was no difference between being Kestra and being a problem.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, or if I was supposed to respond to that. So I modified my original question. “Last night, you said that you didn’t care what I was supposed to do for Antora. What am I supposed to do, Gabe?”

  “As you are, there’s nothing you can do for us. I hate to say it, but maybe we should’ve let the Halderians take you yesterday.”

  I pulled back on the horse and Gabe rode ahead without looking back. If he’d intended to hurt me, he’d succeeded, not because he was unkind, but because he was right. His words soaked through me, draining me of any remaining shreds of pride.

  What was I supposed to do? If Gabe liked the idea of turning me over to the Halderians, then as soon as I knew Simon was safe, I needed to escape. But where? The idea of returning home, to a place that would celebrate me for what I’d done to Simon, turned my stomach.

  We were leaving the Drybelt now. Although a few slots still lay ahead of us, they were shallower, and patches of farmland gradually appeared ahead along with trees and small streams. Which meant we should see homes soon too. Perhaps I’d find someone to take me in until I sorted out my thoughts.

  Absentmindedly, I fingered the necklace from Endrick. I’d never seen a gray pearl like this one, so it had to be worth a great amount of money. I might not find many Loyalists out here, but I’d surely find plenty of Antorans who’d temporarily shift their politics for a bribe.

  Except that Lord Endrick had instructed me to always wear it, and I’d never go against the orders of my king.

  But … what if I did?

  When I looked up again, Gabe had ridden on far ahead of me. I shook the reins until the horse picked up its pace. The last thing I wanted was too much time to think, because every question led to a hundred more questions, and those I could answer left me feeling emptier and more hopeless than before.

  As promised, Gabe rode fast, keeping us in a southeastern direction for most of the day. He only stopped once, to let his horse drink from a water hole left by last night’s rain. By the time I caught up, he was already headed away.

  “Is Simon still alive?” I called. Gabe gave no answer, but he continued riding, so I hoped for the best.

  He slowed again in the late afternoon as we entered a valley of good farmland, largely hidden by a few remaining slots, their walls as steep as the others but not nearly as tall. In the distance, a small farmhouse was nestled within a pocket of thick trees. A friendly looking dog with brown spots ran out to greet us, sending chickens scurrying in all directions. I assumed this must be Rutherhouse, though the name seemed far too grand for this humble place.

  As he was still riding up, Gabe called out and a woman ran from inside the home. She immediately rushed to Simon, asking questions faster than Gabe could answer them. He slid off his horse and pulled Simon down, then carried him inside the home.

  I had no idea what to do next. Simon had told Gabe to bring me here, which technically, Gabe had done. I didn’t dare invite myself inside. How would that go, if I knocked on the door and announced that I was the one who had nearly killed Simon, and could I come in for some tea and scones? Nor did I dare leave. I had nowhere to go.

  I tied my horse to the fence post, then stood beside it for what seemed like hours. The woman’s dog stared at me for most of that time, and I began to wonder if it sensed the kind of person I truly was and considered itself on guard duty. Around me, the sun was dipping low and the early evening felt chill. It was going to be a cold night. And I might be left out in it.

  Gabe had used the blankets from our camp to pad Simon’s ride here. I had the fire starter, but if it was true that I was inherently troublesome, then I’d likely start a small fire, which would spread to the house and not only finish off Simon but also Gabe and the woman who was inside tending to him. I left the fire starter inside the saddlebag and wrapped my arms around myself for warmth.

  Several minutes later, the door opened and Gabe stood in the entry, looking anywhere but at me. “You might as well come in.”

  “How is Simon?” I’d been desperate to ask the question, though I was terrified of the answer, and when it came, it offered little comfort.

  “I don’t know. Tillie says we’ll have to watch him all night.”

  “I can help.”

  “You’ve already helped him more than enough. Come inside, you’re letting the heat out.”

  Finally, I took a step forward, though I wouldn’t look at him either. “Tillie. Is that the woman who tends this inn?”

  “You’re Kestra?” The same woman I’d seen before rounded the corner now, brushing her hands on her simple apron before holding out her arms for an embrace. Her hair was capped and her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were full of kindness and sympathy. “If I’d known you were out there, I would’ve sent for you sooner.” She hugged me tight, though my arms were caught in her grip, so I stood there stiffly until she released me. “Goodness, child, I can feel the cold in your bones. I have a room where you can bathe and get warm again.”

  “Simon—”

  Her eyes darted to a room at the back of the small home. “I’ve done all I can for him. He needs to rest.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “No,” Gabe said firmly. Then with a kinder tone, he said to Tillie, “I’ll stay with Simon.”

  Tillie nodded, then led me to a room with a small basin tub in one corner. “It’s not as fancy as what you’re used to, and there’ll be no one to tend to you, but I do have a clean dress from my daughter that should fit you. There’s some water over my fire. I think it’s hot enough to start a bath.”

  I shook my head. “Let me help with Simon. I don’t need a bath.”

  She smiled. “Yes, you do, child. All of you do. It�
�s a wonder the Coracks aren’t taken out with disease, the way some of them care for themselves.”

  “I’m not a Corack. I’m a Dallisor, and I promise that once I’m home, my father will reward you for—”

  “You’re not a Dallisor either, from what I’m told. And the best reward you can give me is to ensure that the Dominion never knows I’m out here. Now, let’s see to your bath.”

  Tillie bustled around, filling my bath and setting out soaps for my hair and body. I merely stared at them, motionless, until she said, “You’ll enjoy it more if you finish before the water turns to ice.” Then she shut the door and left me alone.

  The first thing I did was to unclasp Lord Endrick’s necklace—I didn’t want the soaps to ruin it. But the instant I pulled it off, I was struck with a pain that sent me to my knees. I dropped the necklace and felt almost frozen in place, a suffocating clench on my heart.

  From somewhere deep inside me, a voice seemed to say, You are mine, child. You are a weapon of the Dominion. It wasn’t a true voice, but rather an echo of my past. I’d heard the words before.

  I fumbled for the necklace and pressed it back to my chest. The pain remained, but it was better, and with some effort, I was able to latch the clasp again. Then I curled my legs into a ball and held them until my tremors passed.

  Simon was right—this was no ordinary necklace. It had power and purpose, and I was its slave. But the necklace itself didn’t terrify me half as much as the consequences for removing it. Lord Endrick had ordered me to keep the necklace on at all times. In disobeying him, I had felt as if his very fist were wrapped around my heart, squeezing it until I could no longer breathe.

  There could be only one explanation for that. The heart-shaped pendant was a symbol for what Lord Endrick had really done to me. It all made sense now.

  I was an Ironheart.

  Anger burned inside me. For my entire life, I’d been loyal to Endrick, obeyed his every wish, and he’d repaid that with control over each beat of my heart. Why me?