Hotel Magnifique(70)

“What?” I shot up and ran to the window. An old stone wall unfurled before me. Beyond it, rolling farmland stretched into the distance.

It was hard to tell exactly where we were from this view, but I had to know. I shoved my hair back and threw on my boots.

Five minutes.

I would give myself five minutes to clear my head, to be outside, then I’d come back and draw that damned map.

I rushed out of the room and halted when my guard pushed away from the wall. Sido. All by himself. He stood hunched and pale, his bald head listing to the side Sazerat would normally occupy.

“Where’s your brother?”

His eye squeezed shut. He turned his back to me.

Then I remembered. Alastair had said he would punish Sazerat for nearly throwing me out. He was either a bird with dull feathers trapped inside the aviary, or somewhere much worse. I pictured a porcelain eye cracking and winced.

Alastair insisted demotions were to keep people in line, but it was obvious Sazerat didn’t realize what I was before the oranges fell. Once he did, I was dragged back inside.

Alastair didn’t punish Sazerat because he failed to follow rules. He did it because he was incensed, and vengeful, because he wanted that ring.

The dread that had been building over the past few days rose inside of me. I inhaled a lungful of air and forced it down, where I hoped it would remain for the next few minutes. Steeling myself, I made my way out of the hotel and into a summer day in southern Verdanne.





The hotel had landed between two moss-covered abandoned buildings on the outskirts of a village. My nerves sang. Stepping nimbly, I walked down the forest path leading to the stone wall. The whole time, Sido trailed a ways behind me, refusing to make eye contact.

The air was thick like it usually felt in the minutes before the summer showers I’d find myself caught in as a child. Squinting, I glanced up at the sky. Clouds had gathered. A raindrop splashed on my nose, but I refused to let it stop me.

Soon, my hair was dripping. My boot heels squished through damp soil and patches of flowers brushed my ankles. I bent and fingered a petal the exact shade of Alastair’s ink. A blood poppy.

My heart clenched; we were truly in Aligney.

I never thought I would see this place again or walk this path. I turned toward the village wall. It was just as I remembered it: a monolith of craggy stone pocked with handholds that begged to be climbed. As a child, I was drawn to it. There were so many times I’d press my fingers into that stone and skin my palms as I hauled myself up, until I reached the top, until I could see over..

Drops of rain hit my cheeks as my mind skimmed across memory after memory of this place. I squeezed my eyes shut and thought of the rainy nights when I was younger, how Zosa would wiggle under my quilt, squishing between Maman and me, making sure to bury her freezing feet in the crooks of my knees. Stop your squirming, Maman would scold, then clear her throat and begin a tale.

In our little minds, she painted our ancient village in blood-soaked mystery, filling the surrounding farmland with marauders, bone maidens, jade-eyed beasts, and fairy queens I couldn’t wait to meet.

Those stories clung to me. They sparked my desire for more. With those tales in my heart, I would sit atop that stone wall and pretend I could see across the whole world.

My legs quivered as I walked around a patch of mud and into a clearing, half expecting the ground to open up, for a voice to shout, Behold! This is it! Where you belong! Forever! But the only sound was the patter of rain. I’d thought if I could get us here, we’d be safe and everything would right itself. Yet here I was, far worse off than I’d ever been in Durc.

I wrapped my arms around my chest as tears rolled down my cheeks. All I felt was a deep ache for the past, how things used to be, and never would be again. I pictured a younger version of myself now, skipping alongside the stone wall and dragging her sister behind her.

God, I missed Zosa so much.

I’d never asked her if she wanted to return here. If I was honest with myself, I was too afraid to ask. She never spoke of this place like I had. I should have listened to her more, I supposed. But I was too stubborn to pay attention to what she had wanted, and now it was too late.

I lifted a leaf stuck to my boot then plunged my fingers into the ground. I squeezed the wet leaves and expected to feel Aligney in my heart, like I’d felt the objects I turned to maps. Except this place felt no different than Skaadi or Preet.

But it should feel different. This was my home—the only home I knew.

For the past few weeks, all I’d wanted was to crawl inside the memories of this village and live in them. But now they almost felt like someone else’s life—someone I barely recognized anymore. A girl who would have been knocked down and left breathless by everything I’d gone through over the last four years.

And yet, I was still standing, still me. If I was honest with myself, I was probably more me than ever before.

Lifting my chin, I turned toward the dripping trees, the craggy walls circling around me. I’d convinced myself that this was where I belonged because I’d wanted so badly to belong somewhere, to feel safe again. But standing here, I realized that this place wouldn’t make me happy.

This village felt like nothing more than a too-tight shoe cutting at a heel. A little girl’s pink ruffled dress ripping at the seams.

I inhaled deeply. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I wanted more than this. More than the space between these trees. More than the distance from the north stone wall to the south.