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“What is this about?”
“Something happened in the maze. There was an apparition of her, and I think Ruskin recognized her.”
She’ll find out, and then what will you do?
Those were her words, their vagueness offering up an endless list of terrible possibilities. What is it Ruskin doesn’t want me to find out? I swallow back my apprehension as Destan opens his mouth.
“I think you should talk to Ruskin about this,” he says.
“Is that your answer to everything?” I nearly shout. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends. But Ruskin is my best friend, and my king. Please don’t ask me to be disloyal to him.”
“Is that what telling the truth is now? Disloyalty?”
He looks pained, knowing I have a point. “Please, Eleanor, I can’t.”
I hate doing it. I hate forcing his hand, but I have to know. If he won’t tell me, I’ll make him.
“You owe me a debt, Destan Lionsvale.”
His eyes widen. “Eleanor?—”
“You owe me a life debt, and I’m recalling it now. Tell me what you know.”
His eyes narrow. This hurts him, and it hurts me too. But that’s what lies do—spinning out of control, creating all kinds of collateral damage. Destan knows that magically he can’t refuse me now. Sorrow lines his face as he answers, his voice heavy.
“I only know what Ruskin told me. He made a deal with a Leah Thorn many years ago. Before you were born. That was how he knew you were the ‘right person’ to help him.”
It’s like the ground has fallen out from under me. I suspected something like this, and yet having my worst fears confirmed still feels like a punch to the gut, like the sword I killed Cebba with has been driven through my own chest. I think back to my and Ruskin’s first meeting, which feels so long ago now, and remember our conversation then.
He asked me my name and queried what my family did. It was only then that he agreed to our deal. The theories press in around me, suffocating.
“What did they exchange?” I demand.
“What?” Destan looks bewildered.
“The deal. What did he take from her?”
“I—I don’t know.”
But I know. I’ve seen it in action already. The image of a corpse in the surface of a pool, surrounded by a grieving family, mourning a loved one taken too soon. Ruskin takes people’s lives, shortens them.
My mother died very young.
Is this why? Did he kill her?
I think I might be sick.
“Eleanor.” Destan puts a hand to my shoulder, his voice gentle and consoling. “Why don’t you talk to Ruskin about this? I’m sure if you asked… He must have his reasons.”
But what could possibly justify this?
I shake his hand off, the hurt too deep not to lash out.
“I don’t want to hear it.” My voice is rough with emotion. “No more lies and half-truths. I can’t stand it.”
Not from the man I love. And I do still love him, even now. That’s what I hate most.
