THE FOURTEENTH

 

The walk up the spiral stairs to my room left me dizzy. I was asleep as soon as I fell on the bed. I cried in my sleep.

 

 

I dodged feastbeggars while I searched for the Patrols. When I found them, Mirkra was slumped at the back of his cage, and they’d cut Timblewon’s beautiful fuchsia hair down to stubs. I shouted at a gnome for approaching them with a poker stick. Like before, the gnome paused with a confused look. I waited until he turned, and I punched at his soggy, gray nose, even though I knew it would affect nothing.

I was so startled when my fist collided with something hard, that I jolted awake.

“I’m just going to take it,” Lucas was saying. “I’m going to jump off the dining table in plain sight, grab the crown, and I’m going to run until they tire of chasing me—” His words hitched when I gasped and sat up.

Kaley dropped the handful of nuts she’d been holding for whatever game the three of them were playing, and she came to my bedside. “This is unreal, Helen. You can’t go on like this,” she said.

My tired eyes slid closed, ears ringing with the calls of the Patrol.

“We need to get back to Porethius,” Zane said, standing and tossing his game pieces onto the stump.

We were back in the sunlit healing rooms. The scent of peppermint saturated the air—some variation of mint pie. I tried to decide if I could eat, or if the thought of food made my stomach turn.

“So let me snatch the crown and we’ll run for it, like I said.” Lucas scooped up all the nuts and dragged them toward himself as if that somehow meant he won the game.

“I told you I would get it. And it’s about frostbit time you all told me why you want the Crown of Pines in the first place.” Eliot’s voice cut through the conversation and Lucas’s head lifted in surprise. Apparently, no one had heard Eliot come in.

“It would be a record-breaking prank,” Lucas lied.

“The Patrol doesn’t hold records for pranks. Nor do they condone stealing,” Eliot said.

“Ah. Well. You got me.” Lucas grinned.

Eliot slumped into Kaley’s empty chair. “Tell me why you want it, and I’ll get it for you. Tonight.” He was looking at Zane. “You need me to. Admit it.”

“Gray,” Zane sighed. “I don’t want to dislike you, you know. You just make it so bloody easy.”

“Likewise. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re both dedicated to the same person. We’re both her Patrolmen, whether you like it or not.” He nodded toward me.

“This rubbish again.” Zane shook his head.

Eliot’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going anywhere, Cohen. I might not be fighting for you, but I am fighting for her.”

“Good grief,” I muttered.

“Are you boys done your hissy fit?” Kaley folded her arms, the wood armour at her shoulders knocking together.

Zane and Eliot exchanged a look, and it was clear neither of them knew what a hissy fit was.

The room darkened, and a cold wind lifted through the space, brushing against the windows. I raised my hands to find frost on my fingertips, spreading in patterns down my fingers and over my knuckles.

My hands trembled. “He’s back!”

I ripped the sheets from my bed and snatched the pillow to use as a shield as darkness sucked every trace of sunlight from the room. I could no longer see the others—hollow holes appeared where they’d been.

“Don’t you see, Carrier?” His deep, bone-shuddering voice echoed, and the smell of iron and blood filled my nostrils. “All of this is about my duel with you…” The last words rang in tune with Mara Rouge’s voice as though she stood before me. Screams pierced the air: high, deep, hollow, sharp. My pillow fell to the floor and my palms slammed against my ears.

“Stop!” I begged. “Please, let them go!”

“Helen!” Zane’s voice spiralled through the darkness, and like a light flicking back on, all the shadow and wind vanished.

I blinked, lowering my trembling hands, holding back the tears burning in my eyes.

The room was bright, and the trickle of chatter from the hallway breezed through the space along with the smell of mint pies once again.

Zane pulled me against him, surrounding me with his arms before I could register anything else. His heart pounded against me, his tune slipping from his chest.

“Don’t let him in,” he begged.

My own voice was raw. “I’m so tired, Zane.”

Zane was shaking. “Helen, your sister is right. You can’t go on like this. I don’t know how Nightflesh caught your ear and eye without you letting him in, but this needs to stop.”

A single, salty tear slid from my eye and soaked into Zane’s jacket. I saw nothing but blurs of colour, until Eliot sharpened in my view. He stood as still as the animal wood carvings at his back, eyes wide, face pale.

I peeled myself off Zane. Eliot’s deep, turquoise gaze locked with mine and I realized: he’d seen the darkness.

Eliot’s face changed as he seemed to realize in the same beat; he shook his head. “It’s not me,” he swore. “I’m not letting him do that to you.”

“You’re a liar,” I rasped. I tried to take a step toward him, my shaky hand flying out to catch the bedpost when my head spun.

“Helen, please.” Eliot took a step toward me, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“You need to get away from me, Eliot.”

Eliot’s eyes burned like embers: a green and gray hurricane. “You’re blaming the wrong person. And I’m tired of getting blamed for every ashworm thing that happens to you.”

“I haven’t been able to think straight ever since I let you in! Either you’re tricking me, or Nightflesh is tricking you,” I said. “You didn’t really go to the White Kingdom, did you? You weren’t trying to make things right with Elowin.”

Eliot’s hands fell to his sides, a flit of anger darkening his irises. “I did go. But not to make amends with him.”

I lifted a trembling hand, leaving it there for him to take. “Eliot, break away from Nightflesh. Elowin will take you back,” I said.

A beat of silence heated the air. Eliot didn’t blink.

“Nightflesh owns me. There’s no escape from the Beast.” I tried to protest but he went on, “And I don’t want Elowin back. What kind of a king lets his people be killed? Why did all those Carriers have to die, can anyone tell me that?” he asked. No one spoke, and Eliot looked to Zane. “Doesn’t it bother you, Cohen? That Elowin let Thomas die? For nothing?!”

Zane’s jaw hardened, and Lucas looked down, tracing a finger over his pocket.

“Fine.” Eliot’s mouth tightened. “I’ll leave after the feast tonight. If you’ve decided you want to send me off after all I’ve done for you, Trite, I won’t bother you for the rest of your frostbitten timestring.”

Eliot marched from the room, and I stared at the branch entryway long after he was gone.

His last promise tugged at my heart.