Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Quin’s cloak is drenched and the silver ribbon he wears spins and swirls in front of him on an icy breeze.
He stays kneeling there in a courtyard on King’s Island in a downpour, all night. All day.
“Please, don’t force this marriage.”
The king marches up to him, crouches, hands gripping his son’s arms. “Who’s stolen your heart?”
Quin clutches his father back. “Just, please . . .”
“You need to produce an heir.”
“I don’t want to marry her.”
“It’s not about wants. It’s about musts. Needs.”
“I’ll never sleep with her!”
“We’ll see!”
The memory blurs, and I stumble to the violet oak. It’s been almost three months now, and I can’t stop myself. Every night I retreat into Quin’s memories. Every night I torture myself, wishing . . .
I lean against the trunk, my breath hopping between a laugh and a cry as I look over all the doors I’ve passed through this night. Maybe just . . . one more.
This is that fateful day on Frederica’s estate. Three years after Maskios left Chaos at the swamp.
Every time I visit this memory, my stomach twists. It hurts, yet I can’t help but come back. I stagger across Frederica’s courtyard to Quin. He’s shouting, but I know now he’s not really shouting at her. “He’s the one behind Father’s death, he’s not stopped trying to kill off my brother—I just got word of yet another ambush! He’s only keeping me around until my son’s named heir. He’s using Mother against me. He’s blackmailed and bribed most of the ministers in my court! Why? Why is he like this? How can I be rid of him?”
“Be calm. This won’t help any—”
Quin swings his cane against a flowerpot and it smashes. He slams his eyes shut. “Sooner or later, it’ll be my son underground,” he chokes on a whisper.
I move around this version of Quin, taking him in. He’s almost the same Quin that posed as Calix Solin, my Maskios, but . . . there’s an anger in his gaze that wasn’t as pronounced before. He moves like he’s swathed in shadows, and to protect himself he’s formed a hardened shell. When he’s angry, this Quin will roar and snarl. When he’s touched, he will school his face and feelings as if he isn’t.
This is King Quin.
“I won’t let them suffer—”
I swallow down an ache and this time, instead of just watching, I reach out and touch Quin’s gritted jaw. “I’m sorry for all the pain you’ve gone through. I had no idea you were carrying the weight of an entire kingdom on your shoulders.” And here Chaos is, running up behind him, about to add more.
In a giant bound of blonde, Chaos leaps onto Quin’s back. Quin freezes and spins around. “Who dares—”
The second Quin sees who it is, a bolt of light penetrates all his hardened layers; briefly, just briefly, I see Maskios. I see a jump of brightness in his eyes. I see a slight tremble.
This is why I keep coming back here.
Quickly, too quickly, it’s gone.
“This won’t do your face any favours.”
Quin doesn’t shake him off. He lets Chaos cling to his shell like maybe, for these few moments, he wants that shell to be cracked open. “What about my face?”
“Good looks don’t last. No woman fawns over mean lines.” A flower appears before his nose. “Soulbloom?”
Later—after the small earthshake, after Chaos heals the rabid dog—Quin stares at his face in the mirror that hangs in his chamber. I wish he could see my reflection close behind him. “Don’t get involved. You cannot. Leave.” He closes his eyes and his throat bulges. “He’ll hate you if he knows who you really are.”
I shake my head. “When he knows who you really are, how could he?”
Quin steels himself and stamps downstairs with his cane. Perhaps all along he was preparing to leave, and then that akla comes desperately seeking help for her master, and Chaos is there, determined to help no matter the consequences.
Quin strangles the head of his cane and his eyes flicker before he surrenders. Perhaps he too is telling himself, just one more moment.
Then he’s escorting Chaos down the river to the cottage in a sea of lavender; he’s admiring Chaos as he heals the hurt Skeldar farmer. And later, he’s gripping his seat inside his carriage, commanding his aklo with eyes closed in defeat: “Send him a soldad.”
I leave the memory and fall to my knees at the violet oak, where I’d later pick up that soldad—the soldad that sealed our fate together, that made it impossible to separate. The soldad that forged a path for me into the royal city; the soldad I tried to destroy, forcing Quin to abduct me from his brother; the soldad that stripped off one of Quin’s masks.
The soldad that he still stamps.
I feel the ground shake. Violet leaves tremble above me. From somewhere a great distance away, I hear a muffled, “Cael, wake up. Cael.”