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I crumple to the floor, sobs wracking my body.
He stands there a while, watching me. Offering no comfort. Only watching me.
And then he leaves me there on the floor where I curl up on my side.
Once my sobs shift to hitched breathing and a runny nose, I manage to climb back up to my feet and stumble my way through the castle to my own bedroom.
The prince leaves me alone that Quiet. I’m not called for, and I don’t go. To my surprise, he doesn't come to find me either.
I’m left to weep in my bed.
But before I let wretched dreams take me away, I do one thing I am terribly late on. Weeks late on.
I take my lantern and place it on my windowsill.
I let the time run out on the iilra. She told me one week, I took three. But I knew—or I at least hoped deeply—that the iilra and Elden would still wait for my answer, even if it came late.
I am going to leave the prince.
I will run away to the light lands.
And there, once I steal enough white powder from the stashes all around Daein’s castle, I will survive long enough to birth this child growing inside of me.
For now, I just have to wait until next Quiet to learn their plan for my escape.
For now, I just have to be my miserable, normal self, and let the prince be fooled for once.
3
All it took was one day—the very next Breeze—before I got my answer from the iilra. It came in the form of a folded letter tucked in a used bar of soap.
I was washing myself after a swim in the lake when I found it.
For a while, I fretted around the bedchamber with it, crunched in my damp fist. But then I didn't want the ink to smudge so I hid it in the deep pocket of the dress I’ve chosen for dinner tonight.
Guests are coming, ones I haven’t met before, and Daein has insisted I be there. Maybe after, I can sneak away to find Terry and ask her what the letter says.
I worry about the risk of seeking her out right now. Daein is wandering the castle, and we’re expecting the guests for dinner any moment. I’m even rushing into the satin drape-dress (with a long sway skirt to hide the deep pockets) with too much to do before dinner comes.
I still have to dry off my hair with hot coals wrapped in cloths, pinch my cheeks, and smear golden glitter over my lips.
But luck shines down upon me when the drapes to my room open and in-steps Terry with the bowl of steaming coals.
A grin splits my face and I rush to her.
Her eyes narrow—the danger of the coals simmering in her glare—and moves around me to the table. She sets down the bowl. “What’s got you all hyped?”
I rush up behind her. Snatching her wrist before she can reach for the spare cloths draped over my chair, I whip her around to face me.
“This,” I breathe, my voice a tight flurry, and I fish out the letter. “Read it. Tell me what it says.”
Hesitation thins her lips.
A part of her doesn't want to be involved in this—in any of this. If the prince found out ... Well, neither of us would ever make it back home. We’d both never see another dark sky again.
Would he kill me, I wonder? Or would he just throw me away in some dark, damp dungeon and lock me up for good?
I don’t want to know the answer, really. Both thoughts send chills up my spine.
