Maybe that was why so many of the people here seemed to disdain her so readily. Even if they hadn’t seen her use magic, they knew she came from a powerful queen, and therefore likely assumed she was powerful as well.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe in the castle. And Queen Signe has been working hard to undo the preconceptions that the Ironblood people have about magic. Not everyone will fear you, but there are people who still do. They fear some magic more than others though. Like the Animali, because they can be difficult to spot.”
“How do you mean?”
“This is skipping ahead a little, but the Cursed Night impacted them too. If an Animali was human when the curse pulsed across the lands, they could no longer transform into their animal selves.”
Kestrel was already piecing together what he wasn’t saying. “And if they were in their animal form when the curse happened?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Kestrel couldn’t read the emotion behind those hollow eyes. Something like pain or fear?
“If they were an animal at the time of the curse, then they remained so. And have been ever since.”
A heaviness plummeted to her stomach. Those people had been neighbors, friends, family. They had loved ones to return home to, and instead they’d been trapped as animals all this time, for nearly twenty years.
And for some reason, Kestrel felt as if it were her fault. Itwas her mother’s magic, but wasn’t that passed onto her? Not to mention, the Cursed Night had been the same day Kestrel had been born. The same day her mother had cursed the queens and kings of Grimtol, the Animali too, and then died.
She didn’t want to consider the coincidences that implicated her as much as her own mother. More than that, she didn’t want to consider that the same magic flowing in her veins could ever be capable of doing something so unforgiveable.
If those innocent people were victims of the curse as much as all the kings and queens were, then Leighton’s distrust of them didn’t make sense.
“Shouldn’t we all feel pity toward them then? They lost a lot to the curse, much like many people, including all of you.”
Barnabus shrugged, and Kestrel remembered that he was younger than Leighton, and therefore had only been a couple years old when the curse happened. It was likely he didn’t even remember his father, and therefore didn’t feel like he’d lost much.
“You would be right, except people are paranoid. They believe the Animali are spies. To be fair, their suspicions aren’t exactly unwarranted. Therehavebeen an increase in animal sightings in strange places, appearing in rooms they shouldn’t be able to get into, especially when confidential conversations are occurring. My brother is just protective of sensitive information getting into the wrong hands.”
“The wrong hands? How? They’re animals. They can’t talk,” she said with a fleeting burst of confidence. “Can they?”
“No, but some of them can write with their tails or talons. They’re not inherently dangerous, but yes, many in Irongate treat them as such. Did you encounter an Animali on your way here?”
Kestrel reached for one of her braids to twirl around herfinger, and felt naked when she couldn’t grasp one. She started worrying at her lip instead, but Barnabus had already found his answer.
“The fox?”
Kestrel nodded.
“And my brother…disposed of it?”
Her wide eyes met his, brimming with tears. “Micah says it lives. But I don’t know anymore. They both?—”
She had been prepared to tell him everything, to launch into a litany of ways in which they’d shattered her trust and tried to mend it, and all the reasons why she was uncertain if she should allow them to. But then she remembered: this was their brother. Another Irongate prince. She couldn’t trust any of them. Sheneedednot to trust any of them.
But there had been something so alarmingly honest about him from the start, and it was different than it was with the others. With Leighton and Micah, she’d known they’d had their secrets—the subtle glances exchanged, the words unspoken and yet understood between them. Barnabus, however, had been an open book. It seemed every thought or emotion he had, he shared. And the only times she couldn’t read him was because he was different from anyone she had ever met. Not guarded, necessarily, just less affective with his mannerisms and behaviors.
Regardless of whether she wanted to trust him or not, she already feared she did. More than that, she wanted to ask him a question, and hoped he would answer honestly.
“Do you think I can believe Micah when he says he didn’t hurt that fox?”
Barnabus didn’t even hesitate, nor did he look offended about her questioning his brother’s integrity. “Definitely. Micah does what Micah wants, not what he’s told to do. And Micah has always had a fondness for animals, especially the Animali.”Seeing Kestrel’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline, Barnabus elaborated. “There was an Animali girl, her mother worked here so she was around a lot. Micah and her were close friends back then, and I think he still misses her. I think it’s why he’s cautious with all animals.”
“All animals? He doesn’t know what her animal form was?”
“No, he does. It’s a principle thing, though. If you were going around killing humans, other humans might not want to continue being your friend. I think it’s something like that.”
The grim comparison both horrified and amused her. “What was she then? The animal?”
“I think a frog or a lizard. Something small. I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about her much and I was so young, I don’t remember her.” Abruptly changing topics, Barnabus slammed the book shut. “Well, it looks like we’re done for the day.”
