Ravenous (24 page)

“Delia,” I say, crossing the room to take her hands. She
dodges and plants herself on the gold-embroidered settee instead. I sit beside her. “I'm sorry. I've missed you, too. How about after dinner? We could play then. It would give Mama and Papa great joy to hear it.”

She gives me a sidelong glance. “Where were you all afternoon? I saw you in the garden for a while—then you disappeared. You know what Mama and Papa say about the wizard. I was scared, and I . . .” She trails off and my skin prickles.

“You were watching me?”

“You must not say a thing,” Ren says. “Please, Rosabel was in no danger, I promise.”

She glares at him but says nothing in response.

I grab her hand, clasping it tightly. “There's no wizard. It's a foolish superstition. We're in no danger—we're just prisoners of our parents' fears. Bryre is warded. No one meaning the city harm can enter.”

My parents know all this and yet their terror haunts them still, ever since the army of Belladomans returned several years ago. The wizard turned them away from Bryre once, and he set up the wards. But now they fear he has allied himself with the city that would destroy us.

These invisible dangers form the ever-tightening noose around my neck.

“Where did you go?” Delia's pretty face is red and puffy. I wonder if she has been crying. As if I could possibly feel any worse.

“To the market,” I say softly.

She gasps. “How?”

I share a glance with Ren. He shrugs helplessly. Confiding in Delia now is the only way to regain her trust.

“Remember the passages we used to play hide-and-seek in? We found more. Some of them lead outside the palace, even outside of Bryre.” I squeeze her hands encouragingly, but it does nothing to help.

“How could you do that? Mama and Papa have forbidden it.” Her bottom lip quivers, and I fear she will cry again. She's much more sensitive than I. I'm the practical sister, raised knowing one day I'll rule. It's in my very bones.

But Delia is more prone to petty fears, and more easily absorbs the emotions of others.

“It's perfectly safe, and I never go alone. No one even knows about the tunnels except for us.” I turn her chin to face me. “Now you must promise me that you will not tell a soul. Promise?”

Misery swims in her watery blue eyes.

“Delia, you didn't.”

Ren stares at her with horror. If we're found out, I have no doubt he'll suffer more than I will, possibly even lose his post at the palace. I shove my fear down. The fault is mine. I knew the risks, and I'll bear them. I'll protect Ren in whatever way I can.

“I'm sorry,” she murmurs. “Mama was looking for you, and I told her you were in the garden, but then you weren't anymore. I didn't know what to do. The servants were looking for you, but no one could find you.”

I bury my face in my hands, while Ren begins to pace. “Oh, I wish you hadn't done that.” For Delia's sake, I
swallow the scream that wants out.

Delia begins to cry. “I'm sorry—I don't want you to be punished; I just wanted you to be safe. I was afraid the wizard might have gotten to you.”

I put my arms around her and her tears spill onto my shoulder. “I know. But you have to trust me that we are in no danger from a wizard. From now on, promise me you will trust me. And that you'll tell no one about the tunnels.”

She nods. “I promise.”

Ren runs his hands through his hair. “I should go home. My father is going to kill me, if he isn't out looking for me already.”

“Or worse, your mum,” I say.

Ren sighs. “My apologies, princesses, but I must leave.” He bows awkwardly, then runs from the room.

My hope of ever leaving this palace again flees with him.

With trepidation, Delia and I walk toward the dining hall. I changed as quickly as I could into a clean dress. Mama would be angry if I showed up in my filthy gardening one. She and Papa await us, and they'll be anything but pleased with me this evening. My sister clutches my hand but is strangely quiet. She used to be light and mischievous, but over the past few months, she has become increasingly withdrawn. Or is it because I've become obsessed with finding some measure of freedom? Whichever it is, I must remedy this change before it progresses any further.

We pass through the halls, tapestried and adorned with
paintings and scrolls. A proper and orderly palace for a proper and orderly king and queen. And me, the daughter who just can't stomach proper and orderly any longer.

The servants duck their heads as we pass; they know how furious our parents are. I sigh and pat Delia's hand as she mumbles yet another apology.

“I don't blame you. You were scared.” I wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks. “You must pull yourself together for dinner. Mama and Papa wouldn't want to see you upset. Can you do that?”

She sniffles, then straightens her back.

I smile. “Good girl.”

We enter the dining hall together. It's terribly quiet. Mama and Papa, usually full of laughter, sit stone-faced on either side of the long, lace-draped table. Tureens of hot soup steam at each end, dishes of buttered vegetables and a whole roasted duck wait in the center, and baskets of fresh bread lie scattered about the candles and glasses. It smells delightful, but my appetite is long gone. We kiss our parents on the cheek, then take our seats obediently.

Mama and Papa don't say a word until we are seated and spooning soup into our bowls. I knew the silence would not last.

“Rosabel,” Mama says, “I needed you earlier this afternoon. We combed that entire garden maze and could not find you anywhere.” Her lovely, placid face cracks with traces of anger. “Where were you? You gave us all quite a fright.” She puts her soup spoon down a little too hard.

I take a deep breath. Haven't I prepared myself for this
moment ever since I first devised my plan for freedom? I'll be as honest as possible, because I believe what I'm doing is right.

“I'm sorry to have caused you or Papa any unease. I only went to the market.”

The silence is marred by the hushed gasp of a servant. Everyone knows my restrictions: I must never leave the palace grounds.

Mama's face pales, but Papa speaks first, though he does not glance up from his plate. “Dear child, you are forbidden to do this. Why would you leave the palace when you know the risk is so high? How did you even get out?”

“We slipped out the side gate when the guard changed.” I'm unwilling to give up all my secrets. I set my napkin down. “I don't believe there is any danger. In fact, I fear it is more dangerous if I do not get to know the people of Bryre. How can I rule a city of strangers?”

“I assure you, the threat is very real, and grave.” The terror in Papa's eyes stuns me. It isn't like other times when he simply forbade me to leave; the fact that I was outside these walls truly scares him. Goose bumps pop out all over my arms, and a gnawing doubt seizes my chest, but I swallow it all down. There may have been a wizard nearby once, but I am certain the danger is long past.

“How can you know that?” I ask. “No one has seen this wizard in ten years. How can you be sure he'll come back? And really, how could he? The wards set around the city keep out anyone who would do Bryre harm. Surely that makes the market as safe as any other place inside the city.”

Mama scoffs, but her shining blue eyes betray her fear.
“The wizard . . . the wizard is not a man who would forgive a debt.”

Something sick creeps into my stomach, and I don't think it's the soup. “Debt? What are you talking about?”

Delia squeaks across the table from me, wide-eyed.

“Delia, please wait in the hallway,” Papa says, patting her hand.

“No!” I cry. “She should hear this too. Won't it affect her as well?”

My parents exchange a weary glance. “You may stay if you wish,” Mama says.

Delia bites her lip but remains in her seat.

“What is this debt you owe the wizard?” I ask again. Something hot and angry stirs amid the sickness in my gut.

Papa answers. “We were young rulers, and frightened. King Ensel of Belladoma was marching on Bryre. He'd ruined his own kingdom and was determined to take over ours. The wizard offered to help for a price.” He dabs his brow with a napkin. “We were desperate. Belladoma had an army of thousands of mercenaries in their employ. Bryre's army was nothing compared to theirs. We accepted his help because we felt we had no other choice.”

“We assumed his price would be in gold,” Mama whispers. It echoes around the dining hall in a way that gives me chills.

“What was his price?” I ask. I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

Papa sighs heavily and places his head in his hands.

“You.”

THE MORNING SUN TRICKLES BETWEEN MY CURTAINS, ROUSING ME FROM
my nightmares filled with the wizard and his magic coming to collect. I shivered so hard during the night that my covers slipped off the bed.

Nothing can take away Papa's terrible words or the fear on Mama's face.

They blindly promised him anything to save the city from Belladoma's forces. He chose me.

The knock on my door makes me nearly leap out of bed.

“Rosabel?” my mother calls through the door. I am surprised she didn't come to my tower sooner; I fled the table after dinner and locked myself in my room, refusing to admit any servant or even my sister.

“Go away,” I say.

A key turns in the lock, and I roll over to face the wall, scowling. How dare she invade my space after what they did?

I hear the soft click of the door closing. The bed dips as Mama sits on the edge.

“I know you are upset, but I hope you have a better understanding of why we insist you remain in the palace. The wizard is after you, specifically, and he is a diabolically patient man. Ten years is nothing to one such as him.”

“If he was so horrible, why did you turn to him for help in the first place?” I grumble.

She sighs. “We were deceived. Wizards are masters of trickery. We thought he was a good man, a good wizard, but he bewitched people in outlying villages, even our trusted advisers, to recommend him to us. In our desperation, we thought we could trust him and made an exception to the ban on magic. We had no reason to suspect what he really was.”

I sit up, clutching my blanket to my chest. “Why did he do it? What could possibly make him want me as his reward?” This is what troubles me most about this tale. It seems ridiculous he would demand a child who was as yet unborn.

Mama shakes her long golden curls, and twists one of her ruby rings around a finger. “That, I'm afraid, is my fault.” Her voice trembles. “When I was a young girl, only a few years older than you are now, I was wooed by two princes: your father, and another prince who claimed to be from a faraway land. I had known and loved Oliver since I was a
child, and at first I paid little attention to this other suitor. But then Oliver's father passed away and he was crowned king of Bryre. He could no longer remain in our court. With him gone, the other prince began to win me over. He offered me fine gifts, and somehow I was always in a daze around him. I could hardly remember what he said, only that I adored him and wished to see him again.” She stops fidgeting and smoothes the silk of her skirts. “If Oliver had not returned to our court when he did and cleared away all those cobwebs the strange prince wove in my head, I might have married him instead. At the time I did not see him for what he was; I only knew that Oliver was back and that I loved him more than anything. I returned all the other prince's gifts and married your father.

“The truth is, that strange prince was not a prince at all. He was a wizard—the wizard—and he had bewitched people to pretend they were his servants and courtiers, and probably even altered his appearance. There was something familiar about the old man who showed up at our gates, and when he finally named his price, he gave us a flash of who he had been before. I don't know which was the illusion, the old man or the young, but he was clearly not what we thought. He did not tell us what he needed a child for, and I pleaded with him, saying that if he had ever loved me, he would ask for something—anything—else. He laughed in my face, and told me that I was a means to an end, and that end was the child. Whether I loved him or not, I'd give him one. We had already promised him anything he wanted in return for protecting Bryre. The deal was binding and sealed with magic.”

Horror creeps over me in spite of the warm sun shining through my curtains.

“You can do nothing to break this deal? Why have you never told me this before?” Anger burns in my chest, but letting it out might stop the flow of answers I'm finally getting.

“We did not wish to scare you. I confess, I am embarrassed by the role I played. This is my fault. I brought the wizard down on our heads by choosing your father. And that means I will fight all the harder to keep you safe. We hired every historian within twenty leagues to hunt for something that could break a deal with a wizard. We had many false leads and hopes but found nothing tangible. The only thing we could do was keep you hidden away and constantly under our protection.”

“But what in the realm did he want with a child?”

She sighs, and pales. “We did not know at first, but we consulted all our histories to figure it out. There is a spell, an ancient and horrible one, that can steal all the magic within a certain radius and bestow it on the caster. The catalyst of the spell is a terrible deed: the sacrifice of a child. The younger the child, the more powerful the spell and the wider the range of magic it would steal.” She swallows hard.

I cannot breathe. This wizard wooed my mother, then tricked both my parents into promising me to him, all for greed of power. “Now you punish me instead.”

She brushes her fingers across my cheek. “I know you hate this. I know it is hard for you to stay in the palace. But sometimes queens must make hard decisions. Someday,
when you are queen, you will understand.”

The anger flares. Understand? Unlikely. I turn back to the wall, wishing the sun could chase away the aching cold in my heart. I turn back only when I hear the swish of silk skirts and the click of the door closing.

I am done hiding. Oh, I will keep up appearances for Mama and Papa's sake and mope around the castle as much as possible. But now I have a new purpose—no more skulking about the market looking for new things to grow.

I need something to keep the wizard away from us permanently. Perhaps something to break a binding deal. Powerful magic is involved when one makes deals with wizards. But what could be strong enough to break that? They may have hunted for something, but I have to wonder—did they search hard enough? Did those historians know anything about wizards? The use of magic has been forbidden in Bryre and most of the lands beyond since long before I was born.

My parents must have been beyond desperate to accept help from a wizard, even a supposedly good one.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up. I need help. And I know just who to ask.

I dress quickly, not bothering to call my maid, and race into the hall. Ren should be delivering messages around the city, but I might be able to catch him when he returns. Scampering through the halls and doing my best to hide from the servants, I make my way to the back garden, then settle in behind a hedge where I can see through to the back kitchen door. Ren always does like to see what he can con
from the cook; I'm certain when he comes back, it will be through there.

I don't have to wait long. Soon Ren slips out of the door, chewing a sticky bun.

“Psst! Ren,” I hiss. He looks up from his breakfast and glances around. I step out from behind the hedge and wave him over.

“What are you doing out here, Rosabel?” he asks, licking icing from his fingertips. “I thought the king and queen would lock you up for good this time.”

“Hardly.” I put on a brave face, though I thought so too. I'm relieved I'm still allowed to roam the castle grounds. My parents are not so cruel as to lock me in my room and deny me my garden, my sole comfort, for a first offense. But if they catch me again, I have no doubt they will. “But I did find out why they believe I'm in danger from the wizard.” A lone chill works its way up my spine, but I shake it off.

Ren's warm brown eyes go wide, his breakfast all but forgotten. “Why?”

“They made a deal with the wizard before I was born to help them protect Bryre from Belladoma's invading forces. They assumed his price would be in gold, but what he named was their firstborn.”

“You?” Fear flickers across Ren's face. The last bit of his food slips from his hand and a small squirrel darts out from the hedge to snatch it up.

“I have to find a way to break the binding spell on their deal. Or something to keep the wizard away for good. The vendors in the market are well traveled and might know
something the historians around here would not. Will you help me?”

Ren smiles bravely, but terror swims beneath his gaze. “Always.”

My first course of action is to disobey my parents. They have posted extra guards at every entrance to the palace grounds, just to be sure I cannot sneak out. But they know nothing of the tunnels, and the second Mama and Papa leave the palace on business that afternoon, Ren and I slip out through the old fountain to go to the market. With so many traders of old and unusual things, if anyone in Bryre has an inkling what can rid us of the wizard or break the binding deal, we'll find them there.

Have Mama and Papa tried this already? Perhaps. But if the traders fear the wizard, would the traders have told my parents, knowing who my parents are? I can picture Mama regally questioning common folk about magic, and getting only nervous nods and tight lips in response. No one knows me, and only a few are aware of Ren's connection to the palace. If we ask about wizards and magic, it's more likely to be shrugged off as foolish, childish interest. That could work in our favor.

And I'm willing to bet the only thing that can break a deal like that is magic.

Though the morning promised sunshine, the afternoon brings clouds and drizzle, providing a gloomy cover for us as we sneak out. Delia is otherwise engaged with her tutor. She won't have a chance to spy on us this time.

Ren takes my hand as we exit the church. The warmth of it makes me shiver.

We try the map vendor first. He stands outside a large, tented stall with bright-red banners, blocking our entrance. He's covered head to toe in dusty robes, so we can see only his icy blue eyes.

“Do you travel far to make the maps?” Ren asks. “Have you ventured to any lands that still have magic?” A tricky question, since most magic these days has been absorbed by wizards or outright banned. Only pockets of magic remain, like the wards that keep Bryre safe.

But the man in front of the tent only gives us a silent stare in response.

Ren takes my arm and guides me to the healer's triangular, vented tent, and together we browse the healing draughts. The healer, a small, keen-eyed woman with a mass of curly red hair, approaches. “Looking for something particular?” she asks, keeping her eyes on our hands in case we steal something.

“Nothing specific, just curious.” I smile, hoping to charm her. “We were wondering, have you ever healed anyone who was under a spell? Can it be done?”

“I never touch spells. I want nothing to do with wizards,” says the healer.

“Of course.” But she is already on to the next customer.

“Darn,” Ren says, “I thought she'd be our best bet, too.”

Next, we try a shadowy stall with deep burgundy curtains trimmed in gold filigree. Strange items are lined up out front and extend to the tent in back of the stall. They
look odd enough that I'd believe they're magical.

I pick up one bauble, a deep-blue stone the size of my fist with a silver setting. It could have been a crown jewel.

“Like calls to like, doesn't it?” says the merchant with a sly smile that turns my stomach.

“What do you mean?” Ren asks.

“Why, only that pretty ladies like pretty things. And that,” he points to the stone, “matches this young lady's eyes perfectly.”

I return the stone to the pile it came from and wipe my hands on my dress.

“Are any of them special?” I ask.

“They are all special in their own way,” he replies.

“We're thinking of a more specific sort of special,” Ren says. “How old are the items here? Are any from the time before wizards? Do any hold magic?”

The antiquities trader steps back. “You're on the path to trouble if you keep asking questions like that,” he tells us with a deep frown.

Ren scowls as we leave. “Why are they all so afraid? The wizard hasn't been seen in these parts in years. At least that's what my parents tell me.”

I too had hoped for better results, but I am not surprised. “I cannot blame them. They leave the safety of Bryre all the time to make their livelihood. Even if the wizard hasn't ventured near here, it doesn't mean they might not encounter him elsewhere.” If anything, I was depending on it.

“Fear shouldn't stop them from doing the right thing.” He walks quickly in the direction of the flower stall. Perhaps
the day won't be a total waste after all.

“They probably do their best not to know anything about the wizard for safety's sake. They can't tell us what they don't know.”

Ren huffs. “Fine, when you put it like that . . .”

Drops of rain fall more steadily and dampen his hair. I pull up the hood of my cloak.

“Something troubles you, dearies?” The old woman's familiar voice floats behind us, and we whirl around. She hobbles in our direction, holding a bowl of soup from one of the food vendors. “Come to my stall; tell Old Mae what this is about.”

“I doubt you can help,” Ren says. The disappointment and weather must be affecting his mood.

“Thank you—we appreciate any help we can get.” I give Ren a sharp look.

We help her settle onto her stool. She slurps soup from her bowl as we tell her we're looking for something that can nullify magic. Deals with wizard are sealed with a spell, which makes them binding. But if we can remove the magic from the document my parents signed, perhaps we could break it. At least, I hope so. That would require locating the document, for one, and magic is volatile at best. Any attempt to change it by a nonwizard could, I've heard, have dire consequences.

Perhaps this is where my parents quailed, choosing instead to lock up their daughter rather than run the risk of meddling with magic. The fear and regret in my mother's eyes this morning are unforgettable.