Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(101)

Could he know why I’ve been here all this time? With what I’ve been able to gather from this dance, he couldn’t possibly have the weapon on him.

“I am here for the justice,” I answer him. “Justice Méndez.”

“And I had hoped you’d come here to kill me.” His voice is soft, anguished. The voice of the Castian who broke Nuria’s heart. I can’t marry you. I don’t want to feel sympathy for him. I can’t.

I harden my heart and remember the words he said to Dez in Riomar. Do you have a death wish?

His eyebrows are furrowed. His grip tight. I can feel the calluses on his hands through the silk of my gloves. The most delicate thing about him is the golden circlet that crowns his mane of golden hair. He looks nothing like the simple soldier in the forest who captured Dez. There are different versions of Castian walking around the colorless pit of my memories, and yet none of them are the same boy, least of all the one standing in front of me now.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” It’s the voice of the prince who wanted to run away before the battle. Nuria’s betrothed.

I narrow my eyes. “Are you mocking me, Your Highness?”

“Actually, I’m told I’m not funny at all.”

My skin grows hot when I feel the ghost of a tremble against my ribs. Castian’s laughter as he gently nipped Nuria in her room. I gasp and pull out of his hold.

The song has slowed to a stop, and Castian uses my movement to spin me. I glide, my skirts flaring around me, the motion so fast my novice feet can’t keep up. He’s there to catch me. My heart races from the fear of falling, the fear of this trickster boy.

I’m distantly aware of people clapping. Castian resting my hands in his. I refuse to shift under his stare or let him intimidate me. So I stare back, and though we are standing still, we continue a different kind of dance.

“You don’t remember me from your time here as a child,” he says, evenly. His lips too close to my ear. “You never left the library.”

My heart gives a horrible squeeze. There were dozens of Moria children, but we were never allowed to interact with the royal family. I do not recall a little boy with golden curls or eyes of a vast, brutal sea.

I can feel the Gray answer me, dark halls twisting and curving to lead me to a pit of memories I may not return from. Is Castian in there?

“I have no memories of my time here, though of course, I have heard many stories about you throughout the years.”

“The stories are all half fiction,” he says, arrogant again.

“That also makes them half-truths.”

He frowns, but won’t let go of my hand, and with everyone staring at us, I cannot pry myself free. The garden is now populated by even more courtiers than the ballroom, their faces a small mob in my peripherals. I glance up to the night, to the tower. From here I can see the lace curtains of my bedroom—Nuria’s bedroom.

Castian abruptly releases me, and when I follow his eyes, Justice Méndez weaves through the throng of people to me. He signals the band, and a new song kicks up. People disperse. My muscles relax despite my racing heart.

“My dear Renata,” Justice Méndez says, a pained smile on his face. “I do hope you are not causing trouble for our young prince.”

“No trouble at all,” Castian says, never acknowledging the justice, instead, his eyes trained solely on me.

“If I may,” Justice Méndez says to me, “I have to steal the prince away for an urgent matter.”

Prince Castian bows to me. It is a brief, curt thing, and I can see he didn’t mean to do it but he can’t take it back. A perplexed Méndez trails at his heels while I’m left behind in the center of the garden.

A young courtier dances close enough to me that I can smell the sickly-sweet perfume she bathed in. Her hair is in bright blond ringlets coiffed around her long face, which is partially covered by a fluttering purple-and-gold fan. She hisses in my direction, and while she breaks from her partner for a turn, she spits at my feet, her saliva landing on the hem of my skirt.

Everyone around us has seen it. I clench my teeth and straighten my shoulders. I cannot react. I won’t.

I turn and walk farther into the center garden, where there are no more torches and the dark can be my shield. I stare at the moon and bask in the silver light. A deep sense of melancholy envelops me, as if all the memories in my head are crying out all at once. The need to be seen. The need to right their wrongs.

Isn’t that what I wanted? To make right all my mistakes? But I’ve only managed to get myself more deeply ensnared in this glittering fortress. And now I’ll have to face Margo.

“What do I do?” I ask the sky.

Looking up to the tower windows, I notice something strange. I count the floor levels over and over again. I’m certain my room is the only one with the delicate lace-trimmed drapes. Beside them is a smaller window that appears shuttered from the inside. Beside that is the library on my floor, still with the window I left open. But there isn’t supposed to be a room between the library and my apartments. None at all.

I envision the long hallway I take every day and every night. There is only a wall that separates me from the library of my childhood, the place I keep getting pulled back to. A suspicion digs sharp nails into my chest. I think of Castian claiming he remembers me in that library. Him telling Nuria about his secret hiding places.