Bloodleaf (Bloodleaf #1)(39)
“I make no promises.” I looked to the sky and shook my head. “Why does this great responsibility fall to you? Should not the king and prince be involved?”
“The king doesn’t want to hear problems, only praise. And the prince . . .” He looked into the distance. “The prince is a coward. Spends all his time hiding from the world, too feeble and ineffectual to be of any real use to anybody.”
Simon had spoken so highly of Valentin, Zan’s critique seemed especially sharp. “Do you hate him so much?”
Zan’s eyes softened, just a little. “I don’t hate him, not really. He means well. He’s just weak.”
I sighed. I was caving. “I’d need to see whatever records you have of the original spells, just to give me somewhere to start.”
“I’ll get you to the castle library as soon as I can arrange it. I swear to you, if you help me do this, I will return the favor to you tenfold. Whatever you wish. I will find your family in Renalt, and I will retrieve them on a galleon ship and bring them here to be regaled with tales of your heroism. If you want your weight in gold, I will have it . . . melted into a sculpture of your likeness, with opals for eyes, rolled into the top of the eye sockets. Yes, just like that.” Quieter, he said. “Whatever you ask. Please.”
He was still holding my hand.
“And if all I wanted was to tell you something secret, something important, and have you believe me, would you do that, too? Could you promise me?” I imagined how that conversation would go: Hello, Zan. Surprise! I’m the real Renaltan princess. Please don’t execute Lisette; she only committed a little bit of treason.
Slowly, he said, “Yes. I think I could.”
If I meant to combat Toris and save my family’s rule, I’d need enough clout in Achleva to convince them to join me in my fight against the Tribunal. This could be my best—?perhaps only—?way to acquire it.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll help you.”
* * *
That night, after Kate and Nathaniel were asleep, I donned Kellan’s blue cloak and crept out, retracing the steps to Zan’s passage. The storm had dashed itself to pieces on Achlev’s invisible barrier, and when I broke from the tunnel onto the shore, the still fjord and sky were both a glittering cauldron of stars, one above and one below, making it hard to say which was reflecting the other. The castle windows were dark, and as I approached the western side, I wondered if any of them belonged to my brother. I knew he’d be long asleep, but I looked up wistfully, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
I crept across the quiet terrace gardens and into the midnight fields on the other side. Falada whinnied at me as I approached, and I patted her head fondly. “Hello, my sweet,” I said, mimicking the way Kellan used to speak to her. “You thought I forgot about you, didn’t you? But how could I forget such a pretty horse as you?”
She nickered in reply, and I ran one hand down her sleek face while I pressed my nails into a half-healed cut on the other, wincing as it reopened and let out a tiny bead of blood. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I confessed to her as I let three small drops fall onto her forehead. “But I need to practice, and this seems like a good place to start.” I placed my hand over the blood and closed my eyes, searching inside myself; I knew the feel of magic well enough now to recognize its presence, like a constant low heat radiating from somewhere inside me. In order to access and direct it, however, I had to discover the source of it—?I had to find the coals.
After several fruitless minutes, I felt my frustration growing. “What am I thinking?” I asked aloud. “How am I going to help Zan if I can’t even do this?”
She gave a placid whinny, as if providing me with an obvious and sensible answer. “I’m very sorry, Falada. I’m not Kellan. I don’t speak your language.” I reached into my pocket and removed the bloodcloth. His faded drop of blood seemed darker somehow—?a trick of the light. When I touched it, sadness welled up in my center, pushing into the dark corners inside me; I could feel it in my every cell, from my crown to toes and into my fingertips.
I closed my eyes and placed my hand on Falada again, this time focusing the power with words. “Tu es autem nox atra.” Where there is white, they’ll see only night. Then I opened my eyes.
In Falada’s place stood a night-black mare. It was a rough illusion; if I squinted just the right way, I could see her true color layered underneath. But anyone passing by would never look twice. The relief I felt was immediate and immense; Falada would come to no harm now that no one could tell that she had ever been an Empyrean.
I brushed her gleaming black coat for a while, whispering sweet things to her and periodically slipping her pieces of the carrot I’d pocketed from dinner at Kate and Nathaniel’s table. She kept looking over my shoulder, as if waiting for someone.
“I know,” I said. “I miss him too.”
But she wasn’t anticipating Kellan; she was watching the Harbinger, who was standing in the circle of bloodleaf with her back to me, facing the base of the tower.
When I ventured into the perimeter of the creeping bloodleaf vine, my shoe snagged on one of the twisting tendrils and it snapped, oozing a viscous, black-red sap onto my foot and hem. I brushed it furiously away, unsure of whether the poison could be absorbed through the skin or if it had to be ingested or enter the body through a wound to work its evil. I went forward with extra care, though each step crushed more of the red-shot leaves and left behind a bloody stain in the shape of my footprint.