Sleep Like Death, page 19
I feel like I am falling into nothingness as he stares at me from behind his blackened armor. I wonder if he will kill me now, or take me to be tortured, but he does neither.
He turns to my mother and twists her around so that she is facing the seeing stone. He holds the back of her neck firmly as her feet dangle just above the ground. He removes the heavy covering Nova had placed over the mirror, and my mother’s terrified eyes are reflected in the shiny surface.
“Say the words,” the Knight says.
My mother’s eyes cloud over until the orbs are white as snow. Her mouth hangs open, and her body hangs limp in his grasp.
“Looking glass, looking glass, on the wall,” she says. Her voice is dry and raspy. Between each word she sobs so violently that it makes her entire body shudder. “Who in this land is the fairest of all?” She gasps, like she’d been holding her breath. Her eyes suddenly clear, and she kicks at the Knight but he doesn’t flinch or move. “I don’t care!” she screams as she claws at him. “I don’t care! Stop it!”
“Oh, Queen, thou art fair, as lovely as all I see,” the Knight replies mockingly. “But Eve is alive and well, and none is so fair as she.”
My mother’s eyes turn white again. “None is so fair as she,” she repeats in that dry, unfamiliar voice.
Nova suddenly appears in front of me. His face is a mask of pain and terror.
“Go!” he shouts, his voice like a thunderclap. “Flee!”
I hesitate. Nova reaches out and strikes me hard in the chest. I’m forced off the balcony, tumbling backward and landing hard in the snow. The air punches out of me. I cough, roll onto my side, and gasp for breath as I stumble to my feet.
I run. My legs pumping under me, the snow crunching beneath my boots. I run and trip on something as I round the castle, heading for the stables. I pitch forward and slam chest first into the cold ground. The air is forced violently from me and I struggle to breathe. My wound burns, and I fear it has opened up again. Coughing and sputtering, I pull myself up to my feet only to find another object lying in the snow just ahead of me. As my eyes adjust to the dark, the horrible realization of what I’m tripping over falls on me like a stone.
They are bodies. Dozens of them.
The people of Queen’s Bridge alongside several royal guards, many of them with their weapons—swords, daggers, clubs—still clutched in their curled fingers lay scattered across the ground. They’ve fallen in a line in a way that suggests they were preparing to defend Castle Veil and were cut down. It could be the work of no one but the Knight.
I scramble to the stables and mount my horse. My body screams as I pull myself into the saddle. The wound in my chest burns, as does the wound in my palm. I grab the reins and steer my horse away from the castle.
As I approach the boundary of the castle district, a giant, hulking shape lurks in shadow. The Knight’s castle has perched itself in an empty field, its strange metal legs folded under it like a nesting bird. I hear its call inside my head, and I wonder again if it is alive. I ride toward Claude’s as fast as I can, draping myself in darkness, pushing my horse to its limits.
The wind in my face keeps me awake and alert as I ride through the night. I stop only long enough to allow my horse to water and feed, and then I push her into the dark until I arrive at the Kingfisher house. I listen closely to her call—she is stressed and frightened, but not tired.
Maggie is on the porch as I arrive. She is waiting with her ears pinned back, and she alerts Claude of my presence with three deep but welcoming barks.
I slide off my horse and drag myself to the door as Claude and Junior open it. They look upon me in horror before Junior slips my arm over his shoulder and helps me inside. Claude surveys the woods surrounding us and waits in silence on the front porch for several moments before turning to me through the open door.
“Oh, Eve,” he says. “What has happened?”
CHAPTER 16
“Are you certain he saw you?” Claude asks.
His dark brown eyes are nearly black. He is so focused on my face that I find it difficult to hold eye contact with him. Junior sets a hot mug of some fragrant liquid on the table in front of me.
“Yes,” I say as I down the liquid and feel it pool in my stomach, warming me from the inside. “I think so.”
“You think or you know?” Claude asks. “I need to know. You say he saw you, but he didn’t come after you? He didn’t even attempt to stop you?”
I shake my head. “No. He turned toward me. I saw his eyes and—”
Junior inhales sharply. “You looked him directly in the eye?” He shakes his head and takes a step back from me. “Are you cursed, then?”
Claude huffs. “Ridiculous superstitions. Go tend to your brothers and leave Eve and me to discuss this alone.”
“I should be here,” Junior says.
Claude leans his forearm on the tabletop and his brows arch up. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Because if something happens to you,” Junior says. “I need to know everything you know so I can keep us safe.”
Claude tries and fails to conceal his horror. He must have had these thoughts himself—that he might not always be here to protect his children, but it seems he hasn’t considered that Junior has had the same thoughts and worries as well.
I turn to face Junior and find his expression drawn tight as if he is trying not to cry. “I would die before I allowed the Knight or anyone else to hurt you.”
Claude and Junior exchange glances and something silent passes between them. Junior puts his hand, which seems so small, on my shoulder and squeezes. Then he takes his leave. I notice he is limping, testing the weight on his right foot and then thinking better of it.
I turn to Claude. “What happened to him?”
Claude runs his hand through his beard. “Chased down a boar while you were gone. Got his foot caught in the roots of a willow tree down by the stream. It should heal up fine if he stays off it, but he refuses to be still.”
“He’s stubborn,” I say.
“Ah well, that would be a trait he got from his mother.” Claude looks up and his lips move like he’s saying a silent prayer. He turns his attention back to me. “You’re certain you weren’t followed as you made your way here?”
“Yes,” I say. “I took the long route there and back, and I was cloaked almost the entire time.”
He heaves a sigh of relief, but his face is still troubled. “And what of Nova?”
I take the glass shard from my pocket and set it on the table. “I have tried to speak to him, but he isn’t there. The shard is empty.” A terrible sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know what it means that he hasn’t contacted me, but it feels like an ominous harbinger of what is coming. I twist my mother’s ring around on my middle finger.
“He cares for you deeply,” Claude says. “I saw it in his face.”
I stare at the steam coiling out of the mug on the table.
“I didn’t think him capable of such feelings,” Claude says. “But now that I know he is, I fear it may put us in more danger. He will want to make sure you are safe, which means he will be thinking of a way to get to you.”
“You don’t know that,” I say.
“Yes, I do,” Claude says. “I’d do the same for the woman I love.” He gazes at Leah’s portrait.
“Love,” I say in a whisper. “No. This—this is not that.”
Claude’s face is a mask of concern.
“I can leave,” I offer, steering our conversation away from things I can’t think about right now. “That way if Nova or anyone else comes looking, I’ll be far from here.”
Claude pulls at his beard. “If the Knight wants to seek me out, you make it seem as if there is some rhyme or reason to him, that he would see you’re gone and simply pass over this house like a storm cloud. You believe he would leave any of us unscathed? No. Sending you out into the world alone won’t do at all.” He sighs and cups his hand over mine. “I won’t turn my back on you if you don’t turn your back on us.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I angrily brush them away.
“You’re upset?” Claude asks. “If you want to leave—”
“I don’t,” I say quickly. “I don’t. But is this how we’re meant to live? Looking over our shoulders for all time?”
“As long as the Knight wanders these lands, yes,” Claude says. “In fact, I think it is the best we can hope for.” Claude shakes his head as he takes the seeing stone shard and wraps it in a thick cloth. “You should bury this. I would say destroy it, but I don’t think you can. It’s a magical object and things like that cannot be disposed of so easily. Bury it, Eve. At least for now. Until we know Nova’s fate, I don’t think it is wise to look into the shard.”
He’s right, but the shard is my only way to see Nova and I feel torn about locking it away. “He told me to run,” I say to Claude. “He made me leave.”
Claude narrows his gaze. “He said this to you? In the presence of the Knight?”
I nod. Claude and I sit in silence. The weight of what that means pressing down on us. Nova betrayed the Knight by showing loyalty to me, and I can only imagine what the consequences of that decision will be for him, for me, for all of us.
I bury the shard, wrapped in the cloth, in the bottom of a potted plant by the window and promise myself that I will move the entire thing to a more secluded location in the coming days. I will retrieve it when the time is right. When I know Claude and the boys are safe. I tell myself I will see Nova again, even if somewhere deep inside I feel it is a lie.
* * *
Claude leaves the following morning, with Hunter at his side. Junior stays with me to look after the other boys and, because his ankle is still giving him trouble, I keep the little ones occupied with games in the front yard. Claude had fashioned them several different-sized leather balls that they kick between them. They have small wooden horses and a makeshift wagon. They fight with wooden swords and pretend to be knights and robbers. They laugh until they can’t stand up. I marvel at their ability to be so carefree when my world feels like it is crashing down around me. As I watch the boys play, I think only of my mother, of Nova, and of the terrible uncertainty that lies ahead.
Chance and Grumpy climb into the small cart, and I push them around the yard in the fading afternoon sun.
“Fix your face, Grump,” Junior says.
I glance at Grumpy, whose expression is set in a permanent scowl. “Are you—are you even having fun?” I ask.
“Of course I am!” he says, his voice light.
“Then fix your face!” Junior scolds.
“Fix your face!” Grumpy shouts back. “If you even can.”
“Are you calling me ugly?” Junior asks, surprise coloring his tone. “We look exactly alike, Grump. If I’m ugly, so are you.”
There is a pause, and then they all laugh until they’re falling all over themselves. Grump gives a wicked little grin. I smile at them but turn and take up a spot by the fence, watching the tree line, listening to the calls of the animals. There are no warnings of danger in the air or in my head. Junior hobbles over and stands beside me.
“I would ask you what’s wrong, but I’m pretty sure I already know,” he says, wincing as he tries to put his weight on his injured leg.
I slip my arm around his waist to support him. “You need to be resting that ankle.”
“I’m good,” he says. “It barely even hurts.”
“You’re such a terrible liar,” I say. “Stick to the truth. It’s better that way.”
“I wanted to show you something,” Junior says. “It’s just a little ways off.” He gestures to a footpath that leads away from the cabin into the woods.
“Now?” I ask. “I don’t want to leave your brothers unattended.”
Junior turns to Grump. “You’re in charge for a little while. I’m taking Eve to see the grove.”
Grump and Chance stop what they are doing and both of them give a silent, solemn nod.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The grove is where our mother and brothers are buried,” Junior says.
My chest grows tight. I look to Chance, who smiles softly.
“You heard him,” Grump says. “I’m in charge. Chance … shut up.”
Chance rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t even talking.”
Junior laughs lightly. “Grump is so annoying sometimes. Come on.”
He limps toward the footpath, and I follow him.
We cut through a tangle of leafless trees, sticking to a narrow footpath. After several minutes we emerge in a small clearing, at the center of which is a waist-high headstone made of glinting gray marble and flanked by three shorter grave markers. As we approach, Junior stops and kneels. He pushes aside the snow to reveal a layer of straw that looks as if it has been strewn all over the gravesite. Pieces of the yellowish-brown material jut out of the snow across the entire open space.
“We cover the whole glade in straw before the snow comes,” Junior says, reading my expression. “It keeps the ground warm so the lilies will come back in the spring. They were her favorite. And sometimes, a few of them survive even through the snow.” He digs around under the layer of straw until he finds what he is looking for—a small white lily, perfectly formed, beautiful.
I accompany him to the marble headstone, and he sets the flower on top. Carved in the stone is the name Leah Kingfisher.
“She was the best person I ever knew,” Junior says. “I haven’t been out here in a while so I thought …” He trails off.
Junior is so busy being responsible for everyone else I realize that I haven’t done enough to make sure he has someone to lean on. I put my arm around him.
“I will come visit her with you anytime you like,” I say. I glance at the snow and reach toward it. I will a column of ice to shape itself into a wreath of frozen flowers and lay it gently on top of Leah Kingfisher’s grave. I conjure three identical ones and lay them atop the accompanying graves.
“They were all sweet,” Junior says. “The boys, I mean. Me and Hunter are the only ones who knew them. Chance and Grump were born after they died.” He sighs. “I think of what it would be like if the seven of us were all still here. If my mother was here, too.”
I have no words. The grief is almost too much to hold.
Junior smiles gently as I glance up. A murder of crows wings their way across the darkening sky. Their calls echo in my head—a melodic ringing but at a higher pitch than I’d expect. They’re frightened. It’s different than it had been before. This time they seem almost sad.
“Let’s head back,” I say.
We take the footpath back to the cabin, and I direct the other boys to gather their things and go inside. The boys grumble and protest.
“I’ll show you a trick,” I offer as a bribe.
“With fire?” Chance asks, gleefully.
I nod. The boys rush inside, hang up their outside clothing, wash their hands in the kitchen basin, and settle in on the big rug near the hearth. Maggie stays on the front porch as she eagerly awaits Claude and Hunter’s return. Inside, I pull swords of different shapes and sizes from the blazing fire. The boys squeal with delight as they request swords with blades as long as my arm. I conjure the weapons from the fire and when the boys grow tired of the spectacle, I let the fire smolder to embers.
“Is it all swords and stabby things?” Chance asks, as sleep threatens to close his eyes right there on the floor.
“Not always,” I say.
“Show us?” Grumpy asks, his voice slow and sleepy.
I go to the door and open it a crack. Maggie’s ears perk up but she stays balled up, breathing slowly. I look up at the stars in the night sky and reach my hand toward them. A blanket of blue-black sky dotted with starlight descends in a rolling wave. I usher it into the house and lay it gently over the boys. They gasp and run their hands over the blanket of night.
“It feels like clouds,” Chance says.
“How do you know what clouds feel like?” Junior asks.
“I just do!” Chance says, grinning.
“Is this magic?” Grumpy asks. His expression is a mask of bewilderment with only one corner of his mouth turned down.
“Yes,” I say.
“How do you do it?” he asks.
I press my mouth into a flat line. I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. That I have these abilities because of the way I came into being—a crooked deal agreed on by my mothers who only wanted a child of their own and the Knight who twisted their words and cursed us all in the process. Maybe, as Junior had suggested, I am cursed.
Maggie’s call sounds in my head before she barks. She alerts with three deeply resonant tones and, when I peer out the open door, Claude and Hunter are making their way by torchlight over the crest of the nearby hill.
Hunter carries a wicker basket. When they left, they’d made sure it was filled with food and drink to last them the day. Claude has his pickaxe slung over his shoulder. I expect them to come into the house, wash up, and settle in for something to eat, but Hunter drops the basket on the porch and comes straight up to me. Hunter’s eyes are wet with tears. I cup his face in my hands.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
He stares up at me. “I—Eve, I—”
“Go inside,” Claude says. “Take everyone to the room and close the door.”
I look past Claude, prepared to conjure a weapon, but he rests his hand on my shoulder.
“What is it?” I ask. “Why is Hunter upset?”
Claude nudges me toward the front door, but I stand firm. Claude sighs.
“I need you to come inside and sit down,” he says.
I don’t want to sit down. I don’t want to move.
Claude looks down at me. “Eve. I think you should—”
“Don’t tell me what you think I should do,” I say. “Tell me the truth. What is happening?”
