State of Sorrow (Untitled #1)(34)

“We’ll go and check the bridge.”

Aphora’s voice startled her. Sorrow hadn’t heard her – or Lincel – who stood silently behind her, follow. Aphora nodded to Sorrow, then left them, Lincel following her.

Sorrow didn’t say a word, walking the opposite direction to the one Aphora and Lincel had taken.

“We should stay where Melakis can see us,” Mael said, but Sorrow ignored him, taking a narrow path towards the rushing sound of the river, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

Her gown kept snagging on branches, and she tugged it free, hitching it up into her arms, walking until she emerged into a small clearing, high above the roaring water. She moved forward and peered down at it, the surface angry and alive. The ferocity of the river matched the churning inside her, and she watched it crashing against the rocky sides, leaving thick reams of foam behind.

“It’s hard to believe I survived that,” Mael said, beside her.

Sorrow didn’t like how close he stood to her. It was too familiar, an easy invasion of her space, as though they hadn’t met mere hours before. She took a step forward, standing on the edge of the cliff. Her annoyance spiked when he joined her.

“I wish I could remember something,” he said. “Something definitive, that would prove it beyond doubt. Lord Vespus thought the birthmark, Beliss’s testimony, and the outfit would be enough. And I hoped it would be, too. But Lord Day isn’t convinced, I can see that. Neither are you, are you?”

Sorrow shrugged. She honestly didn’t know what to think. Her mind swung like a pendulum between yes, she believed him, and no, how could she? Both possibilities left her feeling hollow. So she said nothing, staring down at the river.

“It’s all right. I understand. I don’t think I’d believe it either. Not at first, anyway.”

She wished he’d go, leave her to unpick the knot of thoughts wound around her mind. If he was hoping to convince her now, he was mistaken.

“I’m sorry again, about the bridge. I didn’t think about what it might mean for the people to see me.” He paused. “Lord Vespus thought it would be a good thing. He told me what things have been like in Rhannon, because of what happened to me. He thought if the people saw me it might make them happy, especially given it was the anniversary of the fall.”

Sorrow bit the inside of her cheek. Lord Vespus hadn’t planned it because it would make the people happy; how naive was this boy? And yet something stopped her from snapping at him. It would be like kicking a puppy.

“I didn’t know we were coming today, until late last night,” Mael continued. “Perhaps we should have waited. I’m glad I finally got to meet you, though.”

Mael raised his hand, as though he might touch her, and without thinking Sorrow jerked away from him.

And lost her balance.

Her left foot slid over the edge of the cliff, the mud giving way, and she locked eyes with Mael as her arms windmilled, a scream trapped in her throat. For a split second she was frozen, caught halfway between the ground and the river, and as her body arched backwards, pulled by gravity and momentum, she saw his intentions as clearly as if he’d announced them.

She’d been an idiot to go there with him, to fall for his sweet, innocent act. To allow him to herd her to the edge.

He was going to let her fall.

Then his hand gripped her wrist, and he yanked her back, away from the edge. She crashed into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground, into a mess of leaves and dirt.

They landed awkwardly, Sorrow sprawled half on top of him, her knee hitting the ground with a painful thud, his hand still holding her with a force that would leave a ring of bruises like amethysts around her wrist later. The moment he let go she scrambled up, ignoring the throb from her knee, clutching her wrist in her right hand, staring at him. Mael watched warily from the ground, then slowly rose.

“I think one Ventaxis child ending up in the Archior is enough for five lifetimes,” he said, a tremor in his voice.

Sorrow swallowed.

“I wouldn’t have let you fall,” he said softly.

She nodded, unsure if she believed him, her breath coming hard and fast as though she’d been running.

A noise behind her made her turn, in time to see Vespus and Melakis arrive in the small clearing. Sorrow’s heart leapt into her throat once more, until Rasmus appeared after them.

All three Rhyllians looked at Sorrow and Mael’s ashen faces, the leaves and twigs clinging to them, questions in their eyes. Vespus frowned.

As he opened his mouth, Mael stepped forward, standing between him and Sorrow. Blocking her from him, Sorrow realized. He was protecting her. He’d saved her, and now he was shielding her. Her stomach gave a little jolt at the knowledge.

“What news?” Mael demanded before Vespus could speak.

“The crowd is gone,” the Rhyllian lord said, his gaze moving between Sorrow and Mael, full of questions.

Sorrow didn’t wait for him to voice them, walking past them all, for the first time in her life anxious to be back in Rhannon.


Charon didn’t say a word as they made their way back to the bridge. None of them did. Melakis carried Charon, and Aphora took the chair. Sorrow followed them, Rasmus silent at her side, with Mael and Vespus bringing up the rear.

Though Vespus had been right, and the Decorum Ward had dispersed the crowd, Sorrow still felt as if there were eyes on her as they descended the bridge into Rhannon. She kept to the very middle, moving slowly, mindful of the jade-green water far below her. But even that couldn’t stop her thoughts turning to the Rhannish boy behind her, aware of his every step.