Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(89)

I shut the door and lock it behind me. Hector’s memories fill my mind. There is so much hate and anger there. The only time it vanished was when he saw Davida. After all this time, he still loves her. The way she touched Hector tells me that she feels the same. At least she did, in that moment. How much time has to pass before love fades? Will I forget Dez in five years? Ten? Or will I be like Hector and dull my senses with drink and nurture my sorrow?

My eyes feel too big, swollen. My heart seizes as if I’m having an attack. I go to the basin and splash water on my face. I jump into the bed and crawl under the covers with my head pulsing so much it feels like there’s a creature in there trying to break out. A memory slips from the Gray. It repeats over and over.

A set of silver dice rolling across a wooden floor.

Dez’s voice shouting, “Come on, we have to hurry!”

But I never catch up.

That’s not how our escape from the capital was supposed to go. We rode on horses. Does this mean I’m dreaming? I’m not supposed to dream, I think. But when I turn into a bird and take flight all the way to the San Cristóbal ruins, I know that something has gone wrong in my mind. Perhaps I’m finally breaking. Perhaps I’ve taken one memory too many.

Then I realize what kind of bird I have turned into: a magpie. And I’m eating out of Davida’s palm.

When I start awake, I know who Illan’s spy is.





Chapter 20


I tell Leo I’ll be down in the kitchens to make myself useful for the festival preparations. I’ve seen Davida a few times since the first day in the courtyard, helping the majordomas cook and feed the lavanderas. She’s been at the palace for decades. She’s watched Castian grow up. She’s got access to all the levels of the household, even the prince himself.

In Hector’s memory, he and Castian were the only ones who noticed her. But there was something about her touch that was familiar. Hector had a respite from his rage. Not just because he saw Davida. I call the memory forward and sink into the calm he felt. I’ve felt that way before—when Sayida and Dez used their magics on me. It was like being able to come up for air while drowning.

By the time I get down to the lower level, I am sure of myself. Who else but a Persuári living in the palace might have access to information worth smuggling to Illan? She was feeding black birds while she kept a watchful eye on Castian. My heart races like their wings. Wings that had single white feathers. Magpies. What better spy could Illan have asked for than someone like Davida?

I find her in the empty kitchen, eating her meal alone in one of the storage closets atop crates of jars.

“Davida?” I knock on the wooden door. The scent of baking bread fills the air.

She glances up with pale brown eyes. Honey eyes. Dez. They are nearly the same shade as his, and I have to brace myself against the doorframe for balance. Remind myself of why I need her.

“Do you remember me?” I ask.

Davida nods and pats the seat beside her.

“I’ve come to ask for your help.”

Everything about her is gray. Her washed-out skin, her hair, her clothes. All except the red scar on her lips and the faded one on her throat. But her eyes are still a bit fierce, angry. I can use that. In exchange for her help, perhaps there is something I can do for her, too.

Davida presses her lips together and turns her head. I recognize the sign for What? I don’t understand.

I cannot deceive this woman, and I cannot wrench a memory from her the way I did with Jacinta and Hector.

“We have an enemy in common,” I say. “The person who hurt you also took someone from me. I need your help getting a message out so the others know that I will finish what Dez began. If we work together, we can find the weapon before it’s too late.”

Her eyes widen at my words. She shakes her head and grabs my shoulder, glaring at the closed door. The others are busy around the palace and it is well past midday meal. I know we’re alone, but she must be afraid.

“It’s all right,” I assure her. “All I need from you is to know where Castian might keep things hidden—secret—where no one but he would find them.”

She’s flustered, taking my bare hand in hers. She shakes her head.

“I won’t hurt you. I came to say that I can take your painful memory of that day. Of the prince’s cruelty.”

At that her face is overcome with sadness. Her shoulders tremble. A tear runs down her cheek as she guides my fingers to her temples and nods.

“Thank you,” I whisper as my glowing fingertips take the memory she offers.



Davida can never say no when the prince asks for a story.

He’s getting too old for the same tales, already ten, but he loves them, and while the queen mother is in her sickbed, she knows he needs all the cheer he can find.

“Read me the one about the brother pirates.”

“That one again?” She chuckles and settles into the large armchair in front of the fireplace. The first winter winds are beginning to whistle, but at least the queen’s library has a fireplace. “Are you certain you don’t want me to read the one about the Knife of Memory?”

Castian’s cheeks are flushed with cold. His summer-bronzed skin has all but faded as the days grow shorter and darker. “I don’t think I believe in that one anymore. It’s too fanciful. But pirates, pirates are real.”