Black as Night

Chapter 2-2

A soft knock came at the door, and I went to open it, expecting Neeve.

“I’m almost ready,” I said, then froze in the act of pulling the door wide. The dark-haired figure standing at my threshold wasn’t my stepsister.

It was Thorne.

My pulse jolted, and I had to remind myself to breathe as I studied the lean planes of his face and sharp cheekbones, the quirk of his eyebrows, how one pointed ear showed through the silky black fall of his hair.

“What…what are you doing here?” I sent a hurried glance up and down the hall. “Did anyone see you? Come in.”

I stumbled back, nearly tripping over my skirts.

Thorne stepped smoothly forward and caught my elbow. “Take care, Rose.”

The sound of his voice swept through me, turning my limbs to honey. Without his steadying grip, I might have melted entirely to the floor. He swung the door closed behind us then guided me to one of the chairs before the hearth. I settled gratefully, struggling to control my careening emotions: overwhelming joy tempered by the acute awareness of my wretched state, along with shock that he was even in the castle at all.

“I wanted to see you,” he said.

The words warmed me far more than any cup of tea ever could.

“I missed you terribly,” I blurted, then dropped my gaze to my hands. Never let Thorne know how desperately you care for him, I scolded myself. Nothing but pain could come from such an admission.

“And I missed you.” He reached over, gently lifting my chin with his cool fingers. “When you left, I wasn’t certain you’d survive.”

I met his gaze, unsure if I’d imagined the slight waver in his voice. His dark eyes, flecked with amber, were as mysterious as the still pools of the Darkwood.

“What about your duties? The Oracles? I thought you couldn’t leave your homeland during the winter.” The questions spilled from me like water from an overturned pitcher.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a fleeting smile. “As curious as ever, I see. That’s a relief. As to your questions, I can depart Elfhame for a short time and cross through the gate, if the need is great enough.”

Was I truly that important to him? My flare of joy at the thought was quickly extinguished by his next words.

“I’m here to speak with King Tobin,” he continued. “The Oracles and I have a plan, but he needs to help prepare as well. Come next summer, we must ensure that the protections about the Darkwood are impenetrable.”

“Why next summer?” I tried not to show my bitter disappointment. He hadn’t come to Castle Raine to see me after all. With effort, I kept my breathing shallow, so that I wouldn’t succumb to the hot tears building in my throat. So that I wouldn’t drown in his scent of cedar and wild magic.

“The nirwen harvest is coming,” he said. “It’s essential we hold our secrets close, now more than ever.”

I nodded. Had it already been nearly three years since I discovered the gateway hidden in the depths of the Darkwood? It felt like only yesterday—yet it also seemed I’d spent an eternity lost to illness.

“What about Kian?” I asked. “Will the Fiorlanders be allowed the knowledge of Raine’s secrets?”

“Not yet.” Thorne’s voice held an edge.

“But what if he and Neeve—”

“They are young. Another three years isn’t too long to wait before making any rash decisions.”

“She’s almost seventeen,” I reminded him. “And Kian is a year older, oh most ancient of Galadhirs.”

I couldn’t help my tart words. Thorne, despite his responsibilities, was only a handful of years older than me and Neeve. Even if he wanted to pretend otherwise.

A hint of exasperation flashed across his sharp-planed face. “And yet I am so much wiser. Please, trust me. The balance between the worlds is precarious enough as it is. We don’t need to add the Fiorland prince into the mix.”

“Have you reminded Neeve of this?”

“She knows. The secrets of Elfhame will remain closely guarded.” He stood. “I must go. The king is expecting me.”

“Wait.” I rose, then swayed as a wave of dizziness swirled my senses.

Thorne grasped my shoulders, and for a moment I felt the warmth of his breath against my cheek. Something flickered in his eyes, and I leaned forward, my chest suddenly filled with stars.

Then his expression shuttered and he took a half step back, letting go of me.

“Sit down before you fall down,” he said shortly.

“But…when will I see you again?” I couldn’t hide my plaintive tone.

“In the spring, as usual.” His expression softened. “Don’t worry—it will come soon enough.”

“For you,” I retorted, gripping the back of my chair for balance. “It’s very unfair that time moves differently in your land.”

“Yet we cannot change it.” His lips tilted into a crooked smile. “Rest. Regain your strength. You do not look well, Rose.”

I could feel a blush heating my cheeks. Of course Thorne would see me at my most dreadful.

A knock came at the door, and it swung open before I could answer, revealing Neeve standing at the threshold.

Her brows rose as she glanced from me to Thorne.

“Have you come to meet with my father?” she asked him.

“Yes.” He straightened and strode to the door. “And I’m late. Look after your sister.”

“Stepsister,” Neeve murmured, but stood aside as he brushed past her.

He paused, briefly setting his hand on her upper arm. “Take care, the both of you. I’ll see you in a few months.”

She inclined her head. “Goodbye, Thorne.”

Then he was gone, leaving a gaping emptiness behind him.

“Well.” Neeve turned to face me. “I didn’t expect to see him in your rooms.”

“Me either,” I admitted. “He said he was worried about me.”

She gave a short nod. “It was unclear whether you’d ever return to Raine.”

Meaning, I supposed, that they thought I might die. Not very comforting.

“Did you think I’d come back?” I asked.

The corners of her mouth twitched up in the faintest of smiles. “Of course. Now, are you coming to the classroom or not? The maids will be delivering our breakfast soon, and I’m hungry.”

She didn’t wait for me to answer but stepped back into the hallway. It was a rhetorical question, anyway. Where else did I have to go? There was no point in cooping myself up in my rooms, moping over the unfairness of life.

As we traversed the hallways, Neeve slowed her steps to match my pace. That, even more than her matter-of-fact confidence that I’d return to the castle, made my heart open a bit more.

And I’d seen Thorne! For all too short a time, but still—it was a memory that could sustain me until spring greened the grasses and coaxed the first flowers into bloom.

I tried not to hope that we’d encounter him as we went to the northwest turret. Our classroom was the opposite direction from the king’s study and council room.

“Rose!” Miss Groves met us at the door and enfolded me in a warm embrace. “I’m so pleased you’re back with us. My, you’re as a fragile as a bird.”

She stepped back and looked me up and down, and I regarded her in turn. Her grayish-brown hair and eyes were the same as ever, her forehead marked with a faint line of concern.

“If only I could fly like one,” I said wryly.

“I’ll have the kitchens send up extra sweet rolls tomorrow,” Miss Groves said, returning to her desk. “Now, let’s see how much you recall of the early philosophers of Turima.”

“Not much,” I admitted.

We’d just begun studying them when I fell ill. Something about how life was shadows and the truth lay beyond our grasp. I dredged up what I could remember from the murky waters of my brain. Truly, I hadn’t much liked their views, and it was easy to forget things one didn’t enjoy.

“Is Kian joining us today?” Neeve asked, going to her seat at the long table facing Miss Groves’ desk.

“He’s otherwise engaged this week,” the teacher said. “He’ll rejoin us soon.”

A soft knock came at the door, and two maids stepped in, bearing our breakfast trays. I was happy to see that they’d brought boiled eggs, fried potatoes, slices of apple, and the large sweet rolls the cook was renowned for making.

It had taken some time for my appetite to return, but now that it was back, hunger prowled restlessly in my belly. The scent of warm cinnamon was intoxicating. I took a large bite of roll and washed it down with a swallow of tea before looking up at Miss Groves again.

“What’s Kian doing, anyhow?” I already missed his constant, sunny presence.

“Meeting with the king and the Fiorland emissary. Jarl Eiric has been concerned about his prince’s long absence. And after that, I understand Kian is eager to resume his advanced weapons training.”

“That’s not fair.” Neeve set her fork down with a clank. “Why can’t I miss school for a week? Sword work is important to me, too.”

“You’ve spent plenty of time these past months in the practice arena,” Miss Groves said. “And you know as well as I that our pace in the classroom has been slow, due to Rose’s absence.”

“You didn’t need to wait,” I said, shifting a little with guilt. “I mean, Neeve is the princess, not me. Her education shouldn’t suffer because I was ill.”

“It didn’t,” Neeve said. “Being a monarch involves more than just book learning.”

Miss Groves leaned forward with an intent look. “That may be so…but the theories of governance put forth by Plavelli are well worth studying. Shall we begin? Page thirty-two. Follow along while you finish your breakfasts.”

She nodded to the heavy tomes set at our places. With a sigh, and slightly sticky fingers, I opened the book.

After Plavelli, we moved to mathematics, then a discussion of how geography influenced trade. By the end, my stomach was growling again, and weariness settled on my shoulders like a leaden cloak. The maids finally came in with lunch, and Miss Groves declared the morning lessons at an end.

With a deep sigh, I stretched out my arms. My body felt tired and so did my brain, unused to the rigors of sitting and wrestling with scholarly thought for hours.

“Weapons practice after lunch,” Neeve said, glancing at me.

Detecting the faint concern in her eyes, I gave her a weak smile. “Wonderful.”

Though it wasn’t, particularly.

If I had to move about, I’d far prefer a slow walk through the rain-shrouded gardens to clumsy knife attacks against straw dummies. I dreaded how much I’d probably unlearned during my illness.

In Parnese, Sir Durum had made no mention of attempting to resume my weapons training—sparing both of us that particular frustration. I was terrible at all forms of combat. Our prior lessons had brought him nearly to his wits’ end. I’d proved hopeless with swords, useless with a bow, spear, mace…

The only thing I could brandish with any kind of competence was a dagger little bigger than a kitchen knife. I could throw it with deadly accuracy, but once it was gone, I was defenseless. The arms master had made it clear that skill with an assassin’s blade was no substitute for proficiency with real weapons.

Still, the hearty lunch of stew and bread revived my flagging energy. I even kept up with Neeve as we went back to our rooms to change into our training clothes. Perhaps I wouldn’t embarrass myself too badly during training. Besides, Sir Durum knew the extent of my illness. Surely the weapons master would take that into account and keep his expectations low.