Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(72)
Missing Dez is like living with a ghost limb. Sometimes I reach for him. To remember. Is that what hope is supposed to be?
That morning the castle is a flurry of preparation for the upcoming festival. Ladders are erected to begin the long process of weaving intricate flower arches in every entrance a guest might arrive through in eight days. I file into the throne room like I have every morning since I swore my allegiance to King Fernando. The spot in the marble where I added my blood to countless others’ is a bull’s-eye. For the others who fill the room—the ladies in their brocaded dresses and polished shoes adorned with sea pearls and noblemen groveling before the king—it is another day.
I am the only one who seems to notice that the Ventári of the Hand of Moria is swaying on his feet. His olive skin is ashen, with sickly green undertones. His hair is wet, dripping sweat.
“Leo,” I say, my voice louder and more desperate than I want.
His smiling eyes follow my gaze to the Ventári. He sucks in a breath. Before either of us can call for help, Constantino falls to the floor facedown and doesn’t get back up. I know that he’s dead because the blood that runs out of his nose and mouth forms a pool big enough to swallow him whole. No one can lose that much blood and survive. Shrill cries fill the air; a handful of shouts speculate plague.
As Justice Méndez calls for a medic and attendants rush to lead away the screaming courtiers, I am frozen in place. I wish I knew his family name or the provincia he was taken from or what happened to him that he lived out his short life here. Mostly I feel so emptied of feeling that I can’t move, even when Leo shakes me. When I look back at the corpse, I see Esteban. Sayida. Margo. I see me.
“My lady, you do not need to see this,” he says. Except that I do. I let him guide me away and into the common gardens open to the servants and staff only. He calls for strong café and lets me sit awhile in silence.
The cathedral bells ring, marking the hour. How did he die? The other Moria only stood there, staring straight ahead while his friend fell dead. Were they friends? It burns me up how little I know about them, and yet, a part of me knows it will be easier to leave this place the more I keep to myself.
“Is that what happened to the Robári that came before me?” I ask Leo when the café arrives.
His hand gestures are wilder, and he runs his fingers through his hair so much, he looks like he’s just woken up. There’s an honesty in the way he peels back his courtly exterior. “Yes. The previous Robári complained about a pain in her eye. Then she was simply not there one morning.”
“Was she the first?” I ask, surprised by how small my voice sounds. A dark image bites at my thoughts. I see Lucia after the justice was done using her. The room filled with alman stone. I taste bile on my tongue but breathe through the dizziness that follows. I can’t afford to get sick now.
Leo nods solemnly. “I hate to say that I did not notice she was gone until I heard Alessandro speaking to the justice about it. That man is surely—”
I don’t know why I stop Leo from finishing that sentence. But I shake my head and tap the alman stone on my chest. He blinks quickly, like he, too, forgot himself.
He clears his throat and finishes in a droll voice, “Surely the best husband Lady Nuria could have acquired.”
I feel how wide my eyes go. The woman whose apartments I sleep in is married to that judge?
“I’ve always been curious about how these things work,” Leo says, drawing my attention back to him. His errant curl flops over his forehead, and this time he leaves it.
“They capture moments, stories,” I answer. “Memories, really. The way you and I are living now.”
“No, I know that, but how?”
I shake my head. How can I drag memories out of people’s minds? How can Margo create illusions that make a city think it’s burning again? How can Dez— How could Dez. Dez will never . . . I find it hard to breathe until I press my hand on my sternum.
“Unnatural magics,” I say, because that is the answer I am supposed to say.
“You’re healing nicely,” he says, changing the subject.
I watch his features as he smooths the palm of my hand open. Just when I make up my mind about him, he surprises me. Why didn’t he agree? It can’t be to spare my feelings when he reminds me every morning how much work I have to do before looking like a lady of court. If I say the word magpie and wait for his response, it would be strange, but I have proven to be a strange girl. I wouldn’t put it past Méndez to see this memory later, though they’ll need a new Ventári to transcribe it, and perhaps understand what I’m doing.
I let it go.
The scar down my hand is going to be an ugly thing, but I’ve grown used to it. The shape begins to look like a mountain range on a map when I stare at it long enough.
“Leo,” I say, covering the alman stone with my gloved hand, muffling sight and sound. “There’s a party in the courtyard tonight.”
He taps his chin, considering it. “And you’d like to attend.”
I shrug. A Moria is dead and I’m thinking of parties. But I need to be there.
“I’ve never been to one before. The Whispers only took me to cantinas where everything ended in fights.”
It’s not a whole lie. It’s been four days since I’ve made any progress about how to get into Castian’s apartments. Jacinta is my only lead.