But her nightmares were endless, one fading into another, death and endless skies without stars. Her loved one’s staringeyes, their bodies here, and their souls ripped away like flesh from bone.
She woke in the night.
“Taryel,” she said, reaching for him, needing him. She pressed her face to his chest, curling hair tickling her nose. She breathed him in, shaking with the remnants of her dream. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled her against him, stroking her hair. “There’s no reason to apologize.”
She should have said it then. It should have been a given, tripping from her tongue with such an easy lightness. But feelings had never been easy for Ru. She had never professed her love before; she wouldn’t have known how. And in her pain, she clung miserably to what she had, this lovely, quiet thing with Taryel. She couldn’t bear to change the nature of it, to risk it, as if not speaking the words might keep him safe.
Taryel Aharisand the Keeper of His Heart were summoned to a ball. The summons from Lady Bellenet left no room for refusal, and six empty-eyed guards came to escort them.
Three days remained until the Solstice. Ru had regained her composure and settled into a sort of quiet hopelessness since the loss of her friends. Lyr, Archie, and Gwyneth were gone. No one could bring them back. She found, with a sort of detached interest, that she no longer recognized herself.
She had donned a silk and velvet gown as if it were mourning attire, staring into the mirror like she might find reassurance there. But all she saw was a reminder of everything she’d lost.
Simon had come to her once, climbing through the window. “Chin up,” he’d said, handing Ru a tin of cookies that would siton the table uneaten. “We’ll think of something. Don’t lose hope until you’re standing in a kingdom-sized crater that you created. On the bright side, by that point, you can do whatever you like; nobody will be around to care.” His smile was too big, and his one-armed hug too tight.
Ru had asked him to leave just once. To go to their father’s house in Mirith or Archie’s country estate, anywhere he might be safe. But she had known he would refuse. He wouldn’t abandon her.
Other than the clack of slippers on marble floors, the palace was tomb-quiet as Ru and Taryel made their way, hand in hand, to the ballroom. The last time they’d paraded together to a ball, they were surrounded by the titters of courtiers, clusters of laughing aristocrats in bright clothes.
But now, the halls might as well have been empty for all the atmosphere the courtiers provided. At first, Ru thought they might not have noticed her and Taryel. And then, as they approached the ballroom doors, she saw Rosylla and Sybeth stationed on either side. Their gazes were vacant, and when Ru lifted a shaking hand to wave a greeting, they only stared, as if she were some distant and uninteresting curiosity, before turning away.
Ru started back, tripping over her gown, nearly falling. Taryel was there to catch her. “It’s all right,” he said, even though his voice was unsteady. “Don’t look at them.”
But as they entered the ballroom, Ru gripping Taryel’s arm as if it would save her, she found it impossible to see anything but her friends’ emotionless faces. Every visage became Archie, Gwyneth, Lyr, and now, Rosylla and Sybeth. It was all she knew anymore. There was no respite. All around them, standing at the edges of the room, dancing in strange, slow movements, were courtiers. And every one of them, as far as Ru could see, had beenblessedby Lady Bellenet.
“They’re all Children,” Ru said, almost choking on the words. She couldn’t move; she had to leave. A strangled panic fluttered in her chest.
Taryel drew her to him, holding her close. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he said. “I won’t leave you.”
The artifact mirrored Taryel’s words, trying to warm her with an unseen caress. But it was cold comfort, a bandage over a wound that would never heal.
“Look,” said Taryel gently as he led her into the ballroom. “The musicians.”
Across the room, an ensemble played a lively song. And — a rush of relief flooded Ru — Simon was there, and his eyes were as bright as ever. The other musicians were just as emotive, though they looked more anxious than joyful. They played for what amounted to a roomful of ghosts, after all.
“She didn’t change the musicians,” Ru breathed. “Of course she wouldn’t.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Taryel.
She glanced up at him. “Music comes from the soul.”
As if sensing that glimmer of relief in Ru, Lady Bellenet made her entrance then, half a dozen Children in her wake. Her gaze swept over the ballroom, the dancers, and landed on Ru. A faint, hard smile tugged at her lips. And then she turned, ascending to the dais at the far end of the room and settling herself on the throne that perched there. Hugon D’Luc was nowhere to be seen.
“Will she make us do something?” Ru wondered. “More ridiculous playacting?”
“There’s no one left to impress,” said Taryel.
Ru watched, only half aware, as bodies danced in a blur before them. It was like watching a puppet show, a horrible cursed play put on by marionettes. And then, as faces spun past her vision like an endless parade of specters, Ru caught sight of golden curls. A freckled face.
Gwyneth and Archie danced past, unaware and uncaring that Ru was right there — so close she could have reached out and brushed a finger against Gwyneth’s gown or Archie’s fine coat. The pair twirled by so quickly, they were soon swallowed up by the rest of the dancers.
Ru had seen enough to stop her heart for a beat, to remind her of the truth: She was already at the bottom of the deepest well, and darkness had engulfed her. She could not climb out. She could not even think. All she felt was a weight, infinite and crushing, and a ghost of light at the end of a tunnel: the inevitable end.
“Ru.” Taryel’s voice came from what sounded like a great distance.
Let me disappear, she thought, the ballroom muddling into smudges of color in her vision.She wanted me broken. I’m shattered.
