Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(41)

Valoria shakes her head. Without meeting my eyes, she says, “Hadrien carved some of the buildings for me. He doesn’t know half of what I do up here.” Her lips curve into a slight smile. “He probably thinks they’re for a dollhouse or something.”

“Well, whatever this is, it’s perfect. Except—you made the roads too wide.” For some reason, my comment makes Valoria’s smile widen. Carefully, I point to some twisty painted blue lines that definitely aren’t part of Grenwyr City. “And we don’t have all these rivers.” I motion to a large building near the palace. “Our horse stables aren’t that big, either.”

“That’s right. I call this my Dream City. It’s what I’ve been working on all year.” She meets my gaze. “The bigger stables are so our animals can be more comfortable. They deserve more space.” A hint of pink appears in her cheeks, and I nod to encourage her to go on. “The wide roads are because the ones we have now are too narrow. And the canals are to help carry sewage and muck out of the city. With the city so cramped, it’s no wonder the black fever rips through Grenwyr like wildfire each year. I think . . .” She pauses for a deep breath. “I think my designs would make the city cleaner and help stop the spread of sickness, putting less strain on our healers so they can focus on other things—say, learning how to restore the mind.”

“This is incredible.” I stare at her, amazed King Wylding discourages her inventions when she’s finding ways to combat the black fever and perhaps give people from the Ashes a chance for some paid work. “With ideas like this, you could be a real leader in Grenwyr City, or even Karthia. Have you asked about being on the king’s council?”

Valoria arches her brows. “I couldn’t possibly. Having someone new on the council would upset the Dead.”

“But you’re brilliant! You deserve to be there.”

“Really? Well, if you say so . . .” Valoria presses a hand to her forehead, but I can tell by the glint in her eyes that she’s secretly more pleased than bothered by the thought. “Think how shocked the Dead would be if they saw the Dream City!”

“But even the Dead want their loved ones to live, and your city would help keep away the black fever. It could save people. The things you’ve thought of!”

“I haven’t added half of the finer details yet . . .” She shakes her head, wringing her hands in an obvious case of nerves. “But I’m glad you like it. I’ve barely shown it to anyone. Only . . . my mother.”

Before I know what’s come over me, I grab Valoria’s callused hands. “I’m going to help you find her. I promise.”

“I’m so scared she’ll end up like Duke Bevan. I couldn’t bear it if that happened.” Valoria squeezes my hands. “But I knew I could count on you.”

The way she says those words with such confidence makes my face burn. I wish she’d put her trust in someone else, even if I do want to help her. “We’ll search the palace tomorrow, once we’ve gotten enough sleep to keep our wits about us.”

Valoria bites her lip. “Odessa. About what happened back in the garden . . .”

I hold her gaze. “I’m seeing imaginary monsters.” I don’t mention Evander. For some reason, I want to keep his silent apparition a secret for me alone. “It’s a side effect of the potion. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“But there is. You could stop taking the potion.” Valoria’s eyes glisten, making me wonder if she’s had a similar talk with someone else before. “Whatever feelings you’re avoiding can’t be as bad as what that potion’s doing to you.”

I want to reassure her, but the truth is, I’m dying for another dose at the mere mention of the potion.

Muttering an excuse about needing sleep, I leave Valoria’s tower for my cold, empty room and the bitter blue vials waiting beneath the bed.

*

I push open the door to my room, anticipating the potion’s bitter-apple taste, to find a girl with waves of dark red hair sitting on my bed. Her shirt and cloak are fur-trimmed, and the fang of some unfortunate creature hangs from her neck. I know even before glancing at the double-emerald pin gleaming on her collar that she’s a beast master.

Pausing just inside the door, I blink hard in case this is another hallucination, a trick of the flickering torchlight.

She turns toward me, and I remember Hadrien’s words about the red-haired girl who was asking after me.

“You were looking for me,” I say slowly, edging toward the sword waiting for me on my table, “at the party tonight. Why?”

The girl tilts her head slightly to one side, her face cast in shadow, though I can tell by her stillness that she’s studying me. She doesn’t utter a word or even bat an eye as I grab my sword. I’m grateful for its comforting weight in my hand, and while I keep it pointed at the ground, I know it’ll be ready at my slightest command.

“You don’t remember me.” She finally speaks in a silvery voice, though the words seem calculated, like she’s practiced at staying in control of every sound she makes, every gesture. She raises her head and locks her intense green eyes on mine.

A shiver of surprise runs through me.

The sound of my sword hitting the floor is only a distant thud.