Page 13 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

“It is.” He brings his hand out, a large berry held between two of his fingers. Its color is somewhere between purple and the blue of the sky right before night takes over. “The dark piya berry is one of the island’s oldest medicinal sources, used to numb pain. It’s been documented as far back as our records go. But you must be careful with its consumption. Too little, and it won’t numb you, only leaving you unable to move. Too much, and it can kill you.” He turns the berry over, eyes filled with wonder. “Some think that this berry is too dangerous to grow still, while others think we haven’t unlocked its potential. That, combined with the right ingredients, perhaps this little berry could be a cure for any ailment.” He hands the berry to me to look at.

“Do you think that is true?”

Resting his elbows on his bent knees, he tilts his head in thought. “Perhaps. I like the idea that something so magical could be grown in the shadows. That it could be nurtured away from the light.” His gaze is heavy on the side of my face, and my fox stirs inside of me again before I push her down and look at him. “We can learn many things if only we are willingly unafraid of the dark.” I rub my thumb over the soft skin of the berry.

“Could it fix Papa?” But I know the answer before I finish asking. If the cure for the blight could be found anywhere on this island, they would have figured it out by now.

Kenji’s smile wobbles, the sad look in his eyes forcing my gaze back down to the berry in my hand. “I’m afraid not, Little Kit.”

My white hair curtains my face, hiding the tear that falls. I heard the rumors of what happened to those who went too long without shifting. Those affected by the blight for years and years and years. They go mad. Titus said that will happen to Papa and that when it does, he won’t remember who I am. Mama scolded him for that. Kenji brushes the hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. For a long while, he just watches me as I turn the berry over in my grasp, but then he sighs and stands up, face going stern.

“We should get you back home.”

When we arrive at the house a little while later, Mama and Papa are yelling. Kenji stops me with a gentle hand at my back, his lips curled in a smile that doesn’t seem quite right.

“Wait here.” He knocks on the door, but the shouting coming from inside is too loud for him to be heard. He turns the handle and calls out for my parents again as he steps into the house, gently shutting the door behind him. I scramble to the porch, pushing a turned-over basket beneath the window that looks into the kitchen. It creaks when I step on it, but I latch on to the window’s sill and peek over the edge. My parents are standing in the kitchen, Mama’s arms folded over her chest, while Papa’s hands rest on his hips. He looks sad, his gaze drawn down when Kenji comes into the room. My chest aches the longer I look at him, my fox writhing inside me.

“What’s going on?” Kenji asks, standing between the two of them like Mama sometimes stands between Titus and Tiare when they argue.

“He’s giving up—”

“I am not giving up!” Papa interrupts, lifting his head to look at Mama. “But you have no idea what it is like, feeling like your animal is calling for you but the magic won’t answer. You have no idea the pain it inflicts—”

“Because you won’t share with me!”

Papa shakes his head, running a hand through his dark hair. “You can’t help me, Iolana. No one can. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be when I leave.”

I gasp, drawing three sets of eyes towards me. Stepping down from the basket, I quickly shift, sprinting towards the jungle as Papa’s words replay in my head. Shouts of my name echo behind me, but I ignore them as the jungle swallows me whole.

The deep ache of the arrow wound draws me from sleep, stars smattering across my vision as I blink against the darkness of my cell. My throat burns, and when I try to swallow, it sends me into a coughing fit that shakes my entire body. A groan falls past my lips, every part of me on fire despite the chill that blankets my skin. Sitting up is almost a losing battle, but I manage to get myself balanced, swiping away the hair plastered to my forehead with sweat. Stars above, something is wrong. I sniff at the air, nausea stirring when I detect the scent of blood. Turning my gaze down, I creep my body towards the faint pool of amber light that stretches into the cell from the torch in the hall.

Each movement is agony, sending waves of dizziness straight to my head, making me teeter. My molars grind together, neck muscles straining as if I’m fighting off a shift. But the tendrils of my magic are frayed, and though I can feel my power simmering somewhere deep within me, for some reason, I can’t reach it. When I finally have enough light, I carefully peel back the cut fabric of my pants, looking at the damage done to my leg. Tears brim in my eyes as blood seeps from the wound, the normally golden, tanned skin darkened to a shade of purple that then shifts into red.

Shutting my eyes, I see that room again. See the anger scrunching the king’s face as he asks me question after question about Rhea. I am certain I did not tell him anything, but as I wipe the sweat from my brow again and carefully maneuver so that my back is resting against the wall, I wonder how long the king will let me suffer because of it. I can feel the tremor of a fever working through me, but without clean clothes and water, there isn’t much I can do about it. Particularly if my magic isn’t working properly. I don’t want to die, but a small, disparaged part of me thinks that might be for the best. What will happen when the king grows more desperate? When his questions become more pointed? I knew Rhea possessed magic—though she rarely ever called to it. The only times I ever saw it were after a visit from the king, when her body would heal itself from his beatings while she slept. Gentle flares of shimmering white would roll over her skin, and I would find myself growing more and more angry as I watched. Angry that someone so kind was stuck in a life so cruel. Angry that Rhea never tried to escape.

Then she would stir from a nightmare, a whimper not unlike an injured animal tumbling from her, and immediately, I would be overcome with guilt. It was an endless cycle of wishing for something more for the woman who had grown to feel like a sister and understanding that this, and only this, had been her life for over twenty years. How could I begrudge her for clinging to her reality when all she knew was a life of loneliness and pain?

But now—stuck as I am in this dingy cell with my blood slowly dripping from the angry hole in my leg and the king holding the reins of my future in his vile hands—I sympathize with Rhea perhaps more than ever before. I do not want to die, but I can’t imagine a world in which I might ever be free. Not, at least, without sacrificing her in the process. I hold no loyalty to a king, mortal or otherwise, but I will keep my silent vows of protection to Rhea as if she had made me swear them. Because she deserves a life free of the king.

Lost in my thoughts and fighting against the infection in my body, I don’t realize someone new is approaching until they are nearly in front of my cell. I attempt to scramble back, but pain holds me mercilessly, making it difficult to move as those white bursts of light return to my vision. I try to blink them away as a woman steps forward.

“Hello.” Her voice rings familiar, but I can’t figure out why before a guard in full armor comes up beside her. My nails curl into the canvas of my cot, fear wrapping cold, clammy hands around my neck. Were they back to torture me? The guard reaches a hand behind him; metal jingles, and then a ring with keys is held in front of him as he searches for the one that will unlock my cell. Head swimming, I force myself to scoot farther into the darkness enveloping my cot, like the shadows might offer me the protection I can’t give myself right now.

Warmth pools underneath my leg as I hear the click of the lock, and the door to the cell is opened. When the guard steps close enough that I can make his eyes out in the dark, I realize that it’s Xander. His gaze roams over me, halting at the tear in my pants.

“I smell blood,” the woman behind him says.

Xander smells like the forest, and it forces me back to when the men captured me. When their hands pressed into my body, eager to touch and violate and hurt. Even though it is hard with how dehydrated I am, I snarl at the guard, infusing as much venom into my voice as possible, “If you touch me, I will kill you.”

He lays a hand on the hilt of his sword, fingers curling over it gently. “You’re in no position to make threats, Bella.” He drops the name Rhea used for me like it’s an arrow fired at its mark. I want to laugh at the fact that he thinks he knows anything about me, but instead, only a huff of air comes out. The woman moves closer, concerned eyes studying me as she lifts a brown leather satchel from across her body.

“You are dealing with a fever. A bad one by the looks of it.” She kneels down by the cot, setting the bag in front of her. “I can try to clean—”

“No.” She flinches at my tone but doesn’t look away. The guard standing at her side tilts his head.

“If I don’t clean your wound and wrap it properly, you’ll die from the infection that I’m sure is already ravaging your body,” she says softly, her hands moving into the bag that now rests on her lap. “I promise that I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Your promises mean nothing to me,” I hiss, my breath sawing in and out of me. I need water. Fresh air. Some place safe where I won’t be hunted for what I know. I let out a delirious laugh, trying again to shift, only to stop as my breath is cut short.