“Here you are,” the servant said with a quick bow. Kestrel noticed for the first time how warm her tone was,especially compared to how the townspeople had been speaking about her.
“Oh. Th—thank you,” Kestrel said, wishing she knew how to express her gratitude better.
The servant turned the iron knob and creaked the wooden door ajar.
Kestrel started to walk inside when she realized she had no idea where she was. They had taken so many turns and covered so much ground in the castle that she wasn’t sure she would be able to find her way back to the throne room, let alone to a library she’d never been to when it was time to begin her studies with Barnabus.
“Before you go,” she called out to the servant who was already hurrying back down the hallway. The woman spun back around, waiting. “I need to meet someone in the library at therooster’s first crow—” she said, unintentionally mimicking the queen’s voice. It was out of habit, something she did with Thom, and apparently now the queen, as well. Kestrel cleared her throat, embarrassed and not wanting to offend. “What I mean is, how will I find the library? And will I be able to hear the rooster’s first crow from my room?”
The servant smiled at her as if she were a child. “I will return for you when it is time.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you again.”
The servant nodded, and then hurried away to resume the dozens of other tasks Kestrel expected a servant like her had to do around here.
And then, it was just Kestrel, alone again in a cold, stone building.
There was something both comforting and unsettling about it. At least when she had been left at home, she had all of her things—her books, her stove, her sewing. She wondered what might be waiting for her in a room that wasn’t meant for her.
Twisting around and letting the door close behind her, Kestrel entered the cold room. Not cold in the sense of temperature, for it seemed some of the servants had already been around to start a fire in the hearth and light some of the candlesticks within the bedchamber. But this was a space that had no life to it. There was none of the lived-in clutter she was accustomed to—not that she and Thom had many things, but they had their pile of sandals and boots clustered by the door, a tall stack of clothes that needed repairing and was almost about to topple over, all their jars of spices and dried legumes.
This room felt barren by comparison, even though it was double the size of their entire living space.
Everything here felt too far away. The reading chair between the window and the fireplace had so much space between them that Kestrel could’ve danced in a circle around the chair, neither risking breaking the window nor touching the fire.
There was a large armoire opposite the windows, and a vanity with a mirror atop it. But the armoire was empty, the vanity void of so much as a hairbrush.
The room made her feel hollow.
Empty.
So severely alone in ways that Kestrel never felt at home.
But as her eyes found their way over to the magnificent bed, excitement began to fill the void. The bed was bigger than her and Thom’s beds combined. Maybe double the size. At each corner was an ornately carved wooden bedpost. Squealing with delight, Kestrel drew nearer, examining the craftsmanship and marveling at the depictions carved into the wood. Entire gruesome scenes of battle, the culminating triumph of peace that followed. It was a work of art, not something Kestrel had ever beheld before.
With a hoot and a holler, Kestrel jumped onto the bed, sinking into the thick, feather-down blanket atop it.
Looking up at the stone ceiling, guilt began to settle into her belly. Her thoughts drifted to Thom. He was likely staring at a stone ceiling as well, only in a room far colder and devoid of all comfort than her own. Did jail cells even have beds to lay on at night? The sand-glider he’d been detained in while he was transported up here didn’t.
I’ll be fine, Little Fury,Imaginary Thom said into her thoughts.I’ve endured far worse.
The comment made her scoff. She had no doubt he had endured far worse, but not that she would know anything about it, considering all the secrets he had kept from her. Which reminded Kestrel that Thom’s comfort should be the furthest thing from her mind. The more she learned about him, about the vastness of his lies, the more she realized she didn’t know him nearly as well as she always thought she had.
But she couldn’t bring herself to believe the queen and just condemn him either.
Thom had proven himself to be a liar, but being the mastermind behind the curse? Kidnapping Kestrel from her own family? It didn’t seem like him—or at least not like the Thom she had known and loved and had always idolized.
“You wouldn’t do that, right, Thom?”
Of course not. This is what I was trying to warn you about. You can’t trust them. They’ll try to turn you against me?—
Kestrel rolled onto her side and grabbed one of the pillows. She crammed it against her ear, trying to shut him up. There was no use talking to the imaginary voice of his in her head. She needed to speak with therealThom. But how? Kestrel didn’t even know when his sentencing would be. The conversation in the throne room had gone so distinctly awry, she had forgotten to make her own demands. Or rather, had forgotten to bringthem back up again before she left. Tomorrow though. She would speak to the queen again tomorrow and set everything in motion.
Feeling good about her plan, Kestrel was just beginning to doze when there was a knock at the door.
Begrudgingly, she climbed out of the lavish bed and made her way across the room. Rubbing her eyes, she opened the door, not expecting to find Leighton towering on the other side.
A complicated flood of want and fear rushed over her.
