The Sin Eater's Daughter Page 18

  Lief laughs gently. “It’s become mixed up over the years; I bet there’s as many versions as there are villages. That’s the problem with fairy tales, they change with the telling. Some people say the Bringer can be summoned if you have his totem, but no one knows what the totem is or how to summon him or what he will do if you manage it. Some say the Sleeping Prince can be cured by love, and that if the Bringer brings him his true love he won’t take her heart but he’ll kiss her and Tallith will be remade, as good as new. Others say it’s a load of old women’s chatter and Tallith fell because a blood plague wiped most of the people out. Don’t take it to heart, my love.”

  I pull the covers to my chin. “It would be horrible, to sleep for so long. Everyone he’d ever loved and known would be gone. I wouldn’t want to wake up if it were me; it would be too sad.”

  “I’d be angry, not sad. If I’d been cursed to sleep for five hundred years because my father broke a promise, I’d want to raze the world to the ground. Imagine it—waking up and finding that over the mountains a bunch of inbred peasants had founded their own kingdom while you were stuck in a ruin with only the clothes on your back.”

  “I’m one of those peasants,” I remind him shortly.

  “They’re not my thoughts; you know what I think of you.” I blush in the darkness and he continues speaking. “I meant that that’s what I imagine a prince’s perspective to be. Falling asleep the heir to a kingdom and waking up a pauper in a new world. It wouldn’t be pleasing. It doesn’t matter anyway; it’s just a story. A children’s tale.”

  “It makes me glad my mother wasn’t the storytelling type. I think she would have enjoyed telling that one a little too much. Did your mother ever find out you’d read it all?”

  “She realized when she found me standing guard over Errin one night.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I was terrified the Bringer would come for her.”

  “Was she angry?”

  “No. I think she was rather pleased I’d actually sat still and read for once. Her father had been a bookbinder, and we had shelves of old tomes and scripts. But I was more of an outdoor child. Errin is the scholarly one; she always has her nose in some text or other.”

  I’m silent, my mind filled with images of a young Lief standing in the moonlight, watching over a little girl who resembled him. “I wish I could read,” I say eventually.

  “You could learn. I could teach you.”

  “Would you?” I ask. “And to write? Could you teach me that, too?”

  “I can start now, if you want.”

  “But it’s dark.”

  “You’re right.” I hear the sound of his forehead being slapped. “If only we had some way of lighting the room. Something like a candle.”

  I pull the bolster from under my head and throw it in his direction, grinning when I hear an “oooof” from him. The next thing I hear is his bedroll shifting and footsteps coming toward me.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “Yes …” I feel the bed dip as he leans on it, using it as a guide as he makes his way around it. When he reaches the other side I hear him fumble for the flint, catching his profile in the sparks before the candle sputters to life. He raises it under his face and I shiver as the light and shadows change him.

  “May I get your quill and parchment?”

  “You may.”

  He collects them and lights a few more of my candles, filling the room with a soft, warm glow before he approaches the bed.

  “Move along.”

  “What?”

  “Move along. I won’t fit if you don’t.”

  “Here? In my bed?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because”—I feel my skin tingle and burn—“it’s a bed.”

  “And more comfortable than the floor. I promise not to compromise your virtue … any more than I already have.” He grins and I swat at him.

  “Very well,” I huff, moving along and pulling the covers around me.

  He sits next to me, atop the covers, which reassures me somewhat, and places the parchment on his knees. Carefully balancing the inkpot on mine, he dips the nib and makes a few quick strokes across the paper.

  “Do you recognize any of them?” he asks, holding it up to me and taking the inkpot away.

  I peer at the letters.

  “No … Wait … That one’s in my name.” I point to a long stroke. “And that one, too.” I tap the first letter of the last word.

  “The first one is an L. You have two in your name. And a Y.”

  “L, Y,” I repeat.

  “Any others?”

  I look again and frown in concentration. “I know I’ve seen them before, but I don’t know what they are,” I say, embarrassed.

  “Soon you will,” he says. He points to the first letter. “That’s an I.”

  “I,” I repeat. “But you said it was an L.”

  “No, that’s different.”

  “But they look the same. How can they be different?”

  “Here …” He lifts the nib and adds two small strokes across the top and bottom of the I. “Now do you see the difference?”

  “Yes,” I say, though I don’t understand how those two small strokes changed it. “So it says I, L.”

  “The next letter is an O,” he says, peering at me.

  “Well, I can see another of those in that one.” I point to the third word he’s written.

  “Good.” He beams at me. “The next one is a V.”

  “I, L, O, V,” I say and then pause, sounding the letters out. “I L O V … I love you!”

  Lief’s grin becomes the widest I’ve seen it. “How did you know?”

  “It sounds like it when you say it quickly. I, L, O, V … So that is I, that is love, and that is you?” I point to the words, and he nods.

  “That’s right. Do you want to try writing it?”

  I nod, and he hands me the quill and inkpot. I lean over the parchment, carefully copying the marks on the paper. It’s hard to move the quill; though I can draw, it’s different trying to form such uniform shapes, and my version is much less pretty to look at than his.

  That doesn’t stop him from beaming at me, his eyes soft in the candlelight. When I’m done, he takes the quill and ink away before returning and pulling the paper gently from me. He blows on it, drying the ink before he rips the paper in half. Silently, he hands me the piece he’s written and takes the piece I wrote in my beginner’s hand.

  “Oh …” I say softly, before twisting and rummaging under my pillow for the first note. When I pull it out, he looks at me in wonder.

  “You kept it?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Twy—” he begins, and then we both freeze.

  The door at the entrance to my tower has clicked open.

  Lief lurches off the bed and flies across the room, pulling his sword from his bedroll. My ears fill with buzzing, loud and high as though I’ve pressed my ear to a wasps’ nest, as he calls out.

  “Who is there? I warn you I’m armed and will cheerfully kill you if you take another step toward my lady’s chamber.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” a voice drawls, and my eyes widen.

  “Merek?” I call, dread flooding my body.

  “Who else?” He rounds the stairs and stands in the doorway beside Lief. “Forgive the lateness of my calling … though it seems you were not asleep.” He nods at the candles.

  “Not yet,” I say shakily, looking at Lief.

  Merek turns to face Lief, who sheathes his sword with a bored expression and kicks his bedroll from the door so Merek can enter.

  “Why was the door open?” Merek asks him, and my mouth dries.

  “So the lady could escape if need be,” Lief says without pause. “I opened it as soon as I heard someone outside the tower. My lady suggested it when I undertook sole guard duty. I will detain an intruder and she will escape to the guards’ quarters and lock herself in.”

  Merek frowns. “Why in the
re?”

  “Because I keep my spare swords and my knives in there. And it’s lower to the ground; she could escape from the window if need be.”

  I’m amazed at how smoothly he lies, how reasonable he makes it sound. “It seemed the most practical way of assuring my safety,” I add, though my voice doesn’t have half the composure of Lief’s, and Merek notices.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Aside from having two men in my chamber during the night, I’m quite well.”

  Both men look down, though I’m sure Lief is suppressing a smile.

  “I apologize,” Merek says. “Forgive me. I didn’t want you to think I had forgotten. My mother kept me busy with a report on Tallith. I will return tomorrow.”

  “As you like,” I say.

  “One thing”—he turns back and looks at us both—“I notice there is a bolt on the tower door. Might it be more practical to use that, instead of trying to run from here to barricade yourself in the guard’s room?”

  The bolt. I’d forgotten there was a bolt. How could I be so stupid? “You’re quite right. Lief, please do so once the prince has left.”

  Both men bow to me and leave. Moments later I hear the bolt clicking into place, and Lief returns.

  We stare at each other, my heart pounding at how close we were to being caught.

  “Forgive me, my love.”

  “Why? It was not your fault. Had you not acted so quickly—”

  “Not that. I forgot to tell him he was the worst kind of swine.”

  Despite myself I laugh.

  “We’ll have to take more care,” he says.

  “How could we forget there was a bolt?” I say.

  “Perhaps it’s good that we did. Now we can say it’s kept bolted on the prince’s orders.”

  “Yes, that is good,” I say. “Less suspicious.”

  Lief looks at me and then down at the floor, unusually coy. “If the door is bolted, we could spend every night like this, until we go. Together. If you wanted. Only if you wanted.”

  I can’t reply, my blood thundering through me. Him with me at night. In my bed, beside me.

  “Yes,” I say quietly.

  He crosses back to the bed and his steps fall in time with my rapid heart. Then he is beside me, lying next to me, and I lie back, staring at the canopy. After a moment his arm moves, his fingers sliding between mine, and he squeezes them lightly.

  “Is this too much?” he asks, and his voice is thick.

  I don’t trust myself to speak, so I shake my head.

  In response he leans over and kisses my cheek, and I feel as though I’m going to cave in.

  “I’ll ask Dimia about the passageway tomorrow while Merek is here with you. You could dismiss me and I’ll go and examine it. And the stables.”

  I nod, moving only my head. I’m hardly breathing, overwhelmed by how domestic, how adult it feels to lie beside him and hear him talk of our plans.

  “Good night, Twylla,” he whispers in my ear, turning onto his side. After a long, fraught moment I turn my back on him, and he moves to curl his body around mine. I can feel his heart pounding against my back, as violently as my own, and I close my eyes. It’s his regular breaths on the back of my neck that eventually lull me to sleep.

  * * *

  In the morning there is a delicious moment before I’m all the way awake when I remember falling asleep with his body against mine, and I smile to myself, my eyes closed against the soft morning light.

  “What’s so funny?”

  My eyes fly open and there he is, sitting on the chair beside me, his hair loose around his shoulders. I cannot speak, too struck by how handsome he looks, his head tilted to the side and his eyebrows raised in question.

  “Are you going to tell me?” he asks.

  “Merek,” I say urgently.

  “Merek is funny.” He grins at me.

  “No, you fool. Merek is coming here today. He might be on his way now.”

  Lief shakes his head. “The door is still bolted. I was going to kiss you awake, like a prince in a tale, until you started smiling like a madwoman.” He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine, his fingers slipping into my hair as he deepens the kiss. “Now tell me, what amused you?” he murmurs against my mouth.

  “I woke up happy,” I say. “That’s all.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “Nothing special,” I say, grinning when he catches my lip briefly between his teeth. “Very well, there may have been a reason.”

  “Are you going to share it with me?”

  “That would be terribly indiscreet. A lady never tells her secrets.”

  “Then a lady had better not expect her breakfast brought to her.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  His answering smile is wicked. “Would I not?”

  I smile at him, as sweetly as I can. Again he leans forward and takes my lower lip between his teeth, sucking it before moving away, leaving my stomach aching.

  “Be thankful you’re beautiful,” he says, grinning. “I won’t be long.”

  “Don’t be,” I call after him, sliding farther under the sheets and hunching myself together in happiness, before I stretch luxuriously and beam at the canopy of my bed.

  It’s not long before he’s back, carrying my tray, which he deposits on my lap before bending to kiss me.

  “Dimia’s gone,” he says as I pull a bread roll apart.

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

  “Another maid brought your tray, grumpy little thing. I asked her where Dimia was, and she said she’d upped and left.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I say. “You heard what she said about her brother and the queen. She and her other brother may have decided it wasn’t worth the risk of remaining here. She was on her way to see him on the day we—I …” I pause. “Perhaps they chose to go then, while the queen was away.”

  “Unless it was the queen who got rid of her,” Lief says darkly.

  “I doubt the queen even knows Dimia exists. Thankfully,” I say. “But what will we do? How can we find out about the passageway?”

  “We’ll keep to the plan. If you give me leave to go while the prince is here, I’ll see what I can find out.”

  His words make me blush, the memory of him whispering in the dark filling me with heat.

  He grins as if he knows what I’m thinking. “Promise me you won’t fall in love with Merek while I’m gone.” I throw the remains of the roll at him.

  * * *

  I have too much energy, my stomach in knots as I sit at my screen. Lief is at my feet, winding my silks and untangling them as I sing softly, for want of something to do until Merek arrives. I’m trying to act normally, but I cannot remember what it is to be normal. I’m scared I’ll give us away by smiling too much when I’m supposed to be both in mourning for Dorin and furious with Merek, or by looking at Lief too often.

  The booming knock at my tower door comes much sooner, but also later, than I would have liked.

  “Ready?” Lief asks, and I nod, smoothing my hair back.

  He leaves me, and I focus on steadying my breathing, unsure why I suddenly feel panicked.

  “His Highness the Prince,” Lief says, and I stand, lowering my head respectfully.

  “Twylla.” Merek sweeps into the room. “I hope you had a good night’s rest.”

  Without thinking I look at Lief, hovering in the doorway, and Merek turns to follow my gaze.

  “Wait outside.” He dismisses him with a wave of his hand before I can speak to give him leave. “It is coming along well,” Merek says, studying the screen as the door clicks closed behind us. “I’m glad in this at least that I have been of use to you. I wondered if I might ask you to leave your work, though. The Hall of Glass is complete, and I hoped that you would join me in exploring it. We can talk there.”

  “Can we not talk here?”

  “We can.” He frowns. “But I hoped you might want to come with me. I’ve no
t seen it yet and I would like to share it with you.”

  “I’m not sure what it is.”

  His lip curls. “It is a gift, for me, from my mother. As soon as she found out I planned to see Tallith, she had my escort send her every Tallithi text that had ended up in Tregellan after Tallith fell. And in one of them she must have found the plans for the original Hall of Glass and decided to construct a copy here as a ‘welcome home’ gift for me. Something to tempt me back.” His mouth twists cruelly. “It is a hall of looking glasses, simply put. They are arranged to distort the truth, so you may stand before one glass but appear in many others. Some you may stand before and see yourself from behind and from the side, all at the same time. Would you care to see it? With me?”

  “Of course.” I smooth down my skirts and smile at him. “It sounds intriguing.”

  He crosses to the door and I allow my face to fall a fraction when his back is turned.

  “I’m taking my lady Twylla to the Hall of Glass,” he informs Lief. “You are not needed. We will return later.”

  “When, Your Highness?” Lief asks, and both Merek and I freeze.

  “Pardon?” Merek’s voice is cold, disbelieving, and I glare at Lief, who ignores me, his own eyes fixed on Merek.

  “When will the lady return, Your Highness?”

  “Is that your concern?”

  “The lady’s safety is always my concern, Your Highness. My only concern,” Lief says smoothly.

  “I assure you she is safe with me,” Merek says, his voice as silky as Lief’s. “You’ve fought me and I don’t believe I flatter myself when I say I held my own. I may not have beaten you, but I feel confident I can defend my lady. She is going to be my wife, after all. Twylla”—he gestures for me to leave—“after you.”

  I hesitate before I do as he asks, but when I don’t hear his footsteps on the stairs behind me, I turn to see him and Lief locked in a silent battle of wills. Neither moves, nor speaks; instead they stand, facing each other down. The tension between them is hard and dangerous; I can feel barbs jutting from it, as though it’s pressing into my skin. When Lief’s fist flexes toward his belt, I inhale sharply and it breaks the spell. Merek turns from Lief with terrible calmness, dismissing him as he walks toward me. Over his shoulder I can see Lief’s hand shaking. Merek smiles; despite the heat from their silent conflict, his face is placid.