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Silver
Silver had been holding her ear to the door for a while now, listening to Afton and Aris. She twiddled her thumbs, growing more bored by the second with the luke-warm conversation, wondering if she should possibly leave. Aris continued to ask Afton the same questions over and over as if there would be a different answer. There wouldn’t be—her sister was in love with Ragan.
Why him instead of me?
What did I do wrong?
Just one last kiss.
Afton finally answered, a hint of irritation lacing her words, “You knew from the beginning what my feelings were and would always be. It’s been three months since I told you I would only come for remedies from your grandfather—nothing more. If you still can’t handle that, then perhaps you should find somewhere else to stay.”
Silver was surprised that Afton hadn’t threatened to remove parts from him if he didn’t stop with his insistence. Before Ragan, when Afton would pull men into her room, she never looked at them like she was in love. It was as if she was in her own world, thinking about something else, and loathing it. More of a vicious and chaotic frenzy instead of a lovely dance.
Aris finally ceased his miserable begging, the conversation taking a turn to the herbs for the amplifier. Silver wasn’t invited back in, so she decided to return to the castle to let Afton finish with the supplies. Midnight took a few steps toward her and lowered himself to the damp grass for her to mount his back.
Threading her fingers into his dark mane, she whispered, “Ride as fast as you can.”
His ears perked up and he jolted for the castle, causing her to lean forward and grip him tighter. The wind sliced through her hair and caressed her flesh. Silver stopped thinking and stared up at the constellations of stars. She wondered about them, how they still watched. They were always the merciless ones—doing nothing. Supposedly when a loved one was meant to return with unfinished business after leaving this world, the stars would bring them back in a raven form. That was one of the reasons she’d continued to shape Keelen into a raven. Because he still had a life to live here.
Midnight’s gallop turned to a slow gait as they approached the stables. Silver thought about having him turn around and ride through the night a while longer, but she needed to mull over what Afton had discussed with her. She would need to pretend to be the queen and parade around as her. Afton would sway King Thorin in her direction, which would be an easy task for her sister. Silver didn’t know much about Thorin, but she believed in her sister’s abilities.
She hopped down from Midnight. He released heavy snorting breaths through his nostrils as he pranced into the barn. Grabbing the wooden bucket in the corner, Silver scooped clean water from a larger barrel and poured it into Midnight’s dwindling trough before making her way to the castle.
Afton would most likely enter back in through the tunnel to avoid Javan, but Silver had no reason to hide since it was her usual practice to go riding at night.
Walking inside, she considered waiting for Afton in her room, but as she took her first step onto the staircase, a loud thwack echoed from the weapons area. She came to an abrupt stop and craned her neck to peer through the cracked door. Two muffled male voices sounded, accompanied by shuffling—Javan wasn’t alone. He was always alone in there at this late hour.
Her gaze slid up the staircase then back to the weapons room. Tapping her chin, she had a very good inkling about who might be with Javan.
Silver pushed off the handrail and opened the cracked door wider, finding Javan pristinely put together and seated in a chair with one leg crossed over the other, watching ... Keelen. Taking a deep swallow, Silver studied Keelen’s back, then the dagger in his fist as he threw it. Her lips parted when the weapon struck the wooden figure directly in the chest.
She’d been right that he would know weapons, but he was better than she could have dreamed.
Trying to appear casual by relaxing her shoulders, even though her heart thundered in her chest, Silver slipped into the room. She peered at Javan, whose eyes were fluttering open and closed. His cane was propped against his leg. “You should go to bed.” She smiled at him warmly.
He blinked a few times, straightening in his seat. “I was just resting.”
“How did Keelen end up in here?” She sank down in a chair across from Javan.
“I found him out roaming the halls, where he ate a spider...” He shook his head, his lip curling upward.
“Hmm.” Not surprised, her smile widened. Even in raven form, he’d scavenged them and other insects over the years.
“Never mind.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Can you help him back to his room when he’s ready? I’m only doing this for you, putting my trust in your decision.”
“Sure. Thank you, Javan.” If it had been anyone besides her or Afton bringing forth a soul into a new body using dark magic, Javan would have already cut them down. She didn’t tell him she was waiting for Afton to return because then he would remain and ask questions. Afton would want to spring her plan on him when she was ready.
As she twisted in her seat, Silver’s eyes locked on Keelen heaving a hatchet. He then strode across the room, her gaze lowering down his body, and she couldn’t help noticing the way his pants perfectly hugged his backside. Keelen ripped his weapon free from the figure and went to hurl it again. Since she’d been in the weapons room, he hadn’t once glanced back at her, even though she knew he had to have heard her voice. Her heart tightened at that, and she tried to ignore it.
“He’s quite good,” she finally said, turning back to Javan.
“Too good if you ask me.” Javan stood from his chair and let out a yawn, eyeing Keelen. “I still think there’s a chance his soul is tainted.”
“Are you still worried about the dark magic?” Silver asked, gnawing at her lip. “Good souls go to Torlarah, too.”
“I know.” He sighed, leaning on his cane. “I’m only worried about King Thorin.” He would be more worried once he discovered Afton’s plan, a plan he’d find out about in due time.
“It will be fine.” She shrugged, not removing her gaze from Keelen.
“Why do you keep watching him?” Javan asked, a scowl forming on his face.
“Just making sure he’s ready to protect Afton at all costs.” She smiled at him, hoping she looked innocent.
“Afton’s mood was different today.”
“She has a lot to think about. I do believe under that beautiful dark heart of hers she cares about you, Javan.”
“Oh no, she certainly hates me. But not you—she could never hate you. And possibly ... the boy in the kitchens.”
Silver wasn’t the only one who had noticed the change in Afton around Ragan, the way she seemed freer at times.
“Goodnight, Javan,” she said as he stood from his seat.
“Goodnight.” He patted the top of her head like he did when she was a child, then lifted his cane and walked out the door, closing it behind him.
Holding her breath, she waited for Keelen to say something because he was always the first to speak. Apparently, not anymore. He continued to avoid glancing in her direction. Fine. She still had a tongue and could talk first, or shout, which she did. “Remember me yet?”
Keelen tripped over his own feet and caught himself on the wall before he could crash to the floor. He slowly turned his head over his shoulder. “No...”
His violet eyes trailed to the portrait above her. It was one of her and Afton from a few years ago that Javan had requested be painted. Silver sat clothed in a lavender gown and a square neckline, while Afton wore a fitted hunter green dress with sheer lace from shoulders to knuckles, only the tips of her fingers peeking out.
Silver pointed to her sister’s painted image. “That’s Afton.”
Cocking his head, he continued to study the portrait. “You don’t look like her.”
“Do you wish I looked like her?” Her heart thumped with a loud no, and her brain told it to cease.
“What kind of question is that?” Keelen placed the hatchet on the wall and ran a hand across his bald head.
“What kind of question was that?” Silver threw back at him.
He didn’t answer but the edges of his lips twitched.
“So why aren’t you in your room?”
“I felt like exploring a bit.” His tone sounded distant, so very unlike him.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “All right...”
Darting forward, he gently pushed her legs to the side and swiped at something along the floor with his free hand. Then he placed it into his mouth, chewing. Crunch. Crunch.
Her eyes widened and she cupped her hand over her mouth, fighting a smile. “Did you just move me out of the way to eat that spider?”
“Yes.” He remained knelt in front of her. Close. Very close. “Perhaps I saved your life from its poison.”
“Poor spider.” She lowered her hand and grinned. If there weren’t the tell-tale signs of who Keelen was, she may have thought she’d collected the wrong soul from Torlarah. But this was very much him.
Keelen furrowed his brow, appearing lost in thought. He still hadn’t moved back, and she inhaled a woodsy scent with a hint of jasmine.
She grasped his arm and yanked him from the floor so she wouldn’t lean closer into him. “Come on. Let me guide you back to your room.” Her gaze connected with the portrait and she tilted her head toward it. “How do you feel about her?”
“What?”
“I didn’t ask if you were going to marry her.” She rolled her eyes. “Guarding her, I mean.”
“I don’t even know her.” Keelen straightened and she released his arm. “But I’ll do it, Silver.”
“You will? Thank you.” She grinned. “You’re quite good with weapons. Do you remember anything of your past yet?” Or me?
“Not really,” he whispered.
With a slow nod while chewing the inside of her cheek, Silver guided Keelen up the staircase toward his room. The silence stretched between them, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
“What’s it like to live?” he finally asked as she opened the door to his room.
Silver’s eyebrows drew into a caterpillar while she contemplated his words. Her heart thump-thumped within her chest—Keelen had always been inquisitive. “Let me think about it for a moment.”
They walked into the bedroom, and he dropped down on the edge of the mattress, lifting his dampened tunic up and over his head in one swift motion. The magic of the earth vibrated all the way to her marrow, along with something else that went straight to her core, as she studied his defined upper torso.
Knowing she was treading on dangerous ground, she still took a seat beside him. “I don’t know what everyone in the world lives for, but I live for Afton. She’s my queen, my sister, and I would do anything for her.”
“Aren’t there things you want?”
Silver bit her lip, thinking. Two things came to mind. She pushed the one about Keelen remembering her aside. “For Afton to always succeed.”
“Hypothetical question—what if Afton didn’t exist?” He tilted his head, a mannerism that was already growing familiar to her.
“Yet she does.”
His violet gaze locked on hers. “If she didn’t?”
“Why would you ask this?”
“I’m wondering what your answer would be. One that doesn’t involve Afton.” He peered at her for a long moment as if trying to read her.
Fine. She would play the game. Closing her eyes, she thought about being alone, without anyone. Images of the Valgmyr story that she’d read over and over as a child flooded her mind. Images of the king—a male with curled horns and gargoyle leathery wings—and his world filled with imps and magic. The stars that kept watch over the lands he couldn’t see. Except in that story, it didn’t end well for the people who were swayed into going there. “I’d want to stay here.” She opened her eyes and grinned. “And perhaps have a room with never ending strawberry and blueberry tarts. I live for those.”
Keelen bit his lip as if he could taste crumbs from it. “I’ve never had any that I can recall.”
She’d given him crumbs of tarts before, but he couldn’t ever taste them. “How about I make you some?”
“That would be—”
The door swung open and Afton halted in place, her blonde hair falling perfectly to her waist. “I was looking for you.” Her dark gaze fell to Keelen, and she pursed her lips. “He’s awake.”
Silver was a bit disappointed by the interruption, but she managed to perk up. “Afton, come and meet Keelen. I was about to make tarts.”
Afton gripped the handle of her mace. “You will do no such thing right now.”
“And why not?” Silver asked, placing her hands on her hips as she stood from the bed.
“Because I need to explain the plans to my new guard. He can have tarts another time.”
“Alone?” Silver lifted a brow.
“Yes.” There was a hint of exhaustion in Afton’s gaze, and Silver bet it was from her conversation with Aris. “For now, can you at least go and use magic to color your hair like mine?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Silver hesitated before brushing past Afton and murmuring, “Play nice with him. Or as nice as you can muster. Can I have your word you won’t hurt him?”
“You have my word as long as he doesn’t attack me.”
She nodded and gave a quick glance at Keelen who was watching her while she exited the room. It was an expression that seemed as though he’d wanted her to stay, but he hadn’t requested it of her, so she left. Silver needed to prepare for Enare anyway.
As children, Silver and Afton’s parents had expected their bond to be fragile, but even a fragile one could be stronger than a broken one. Their parents had underestimated what years together might do—their bond had grown into iron.
That iron was what their parents had made Afton burn Silver’s chest with. If Afton hadn’t obeyed, they would have clipped off Silver’s toes and slaughtered Midnight. There’d been no hesitation as Afton brought the hot iron forward.
“You should hate me,” Afton said after their parents made her carry Silver to her room.
“I know why you did it.” The searing pain from the burn traveled throughout her body. “It wasn’t the toes. It was because of my horse. You know how much I love him.”
“I know that would have hurt you more than this. It’s best you stay away from me,” Afton whispered after helping Silver to bed. “You will only ever get hurt.”
“Because of them. Not you.” She grasped Afton’s hand. “No matter what, I’m glad I have you here.”
“And I, you,” Afton murmured.
Silver walked down the hall and opened the door to her room. Dresses cluttered the floor—notes sprawled across the desk. A complete disarray to Afton’s organized space. Stepping over a few velvet gowns, she placed the mace on the bed, then entered her bathroom and slumped on a chair in front of her mirror. Preserved butterfly wings that Silver had attached herself framed the glass.
She gazed in the mirror—her oval face, her pale scar, her upturned nose. Pulling her dark hair over her shoulder, Silver fished out the glass jar of moistened clay from a half-open drawer and added water to it. The magic around her took a moment to rouse before she tugged it from the earth and ran the clay throughout her hair, slathering the sticky texture onto lock after lock.
Silver’s hair changed from raven’s feathers to the color of yellowed cake, becoming lighter and lighter. Her face appeared nothing like her sister’s, though. While Silver looked like her father, Afton was the spitting image of their mother with wide eyes, a plump bottom lip, a pointy nose, and a slender neck.
A thought of Afton having her throat slit by Thorin’s hand slipped into her mind. She dropped the glass jar, watching it shatter to pieces.
“She’ll be okay,” Silver said as she bent to pick up the glass. “She’ll be protected.”
