Monstrous Page 9

  After lunch, Father left me by the fire reading my books to go to a market in a village beyond the forest and river. It is far enough away that he will not be back until I have left for Bryre and my nightly rescue.

  Which means the afternoon is entirely mine.

  I start out pruning my roses, trying to focus on the blossoms. But the lovely colors and sweet scent do not soothe me as they usually do. My mind feels scattered, unable to focus. The back of my neck tingles, and suddenly my vision is no longer my own.

  Rose petals, my favorite blush ones, fall to a white marble floor. A shrill sound pierces the air and lingers like smoke. A woman slumps amid the petals but I cannot see her face. Just her golden hair and fine blue silk dress.

  It is the woman whose image my mind conjured the first time I considered the word mother.

  I want to reach out, to turn her and see her face, but the memory fades too quickly. It leaves only a loneliness that curls itself up next to my heart and makes itself at home.

  Familiar surroundings are the last things I want now, but I hardly know where to flee.

  I find myself wandering through the hedge and making my way toward the river. My thoughts rush like those waters.

  I do not wish to be alone. I seek the solace of another creature who understands me and what I am.

  A creature who called me sister. The word has been roaming through my brain ever since, almost as much as mother.

  Did that girl who died last night have a mother who will miss her? Or a sister who shared her secrets? I would cherish all the girls like sisters, if only Father would let me. If only that little one had not died. If only I had some way to fix it. To bring her back.

  An idea wafts through my head and solidifies more with every step. If the dragon finds me today, I know what I could ask. If I can find the courage.

  I settle on the bank of the river, resting back in the soft green moss and dangling my legs in the water. I squint at the sun as the clouds make shapes in the bright blue sky. It feels so wrong that everything can be sunny and bright when I am hollow inside. That poor girl can no longer enjoy this. Nor will she ever see her family again, or run through the streets of Bryre. My chest tightens. Just like I will never see my mother—the woman in that memory—again. The broken pieces of my mind play a cruel trick as they sort themselves out, showing me glimpses of a past I can never recover.

  Tears spill over my cheeks and onto the moss. I close my eyes to stop the torrent, but my eyelids are useless to hold it back. I will flood the riverbanks if I do not stop soon.

  A warm blast of dank air brushes across my face, chilling the drops on my cheeks.

  Why do you cry, sister?

  I scramble to my feet and come face to face with my rock dragon. Batu is just as humongous and magnificent as the first time, but now he seems less fearsome. His wings are furled close to his body, like a shimmering cloak. His scaly head, larger than my entire body, is bent close to the ground to keep me at eye level. I am so relieved to see him that I nearly burst into tears all over again.

  “A girl died. I fear the fault is mine.”

  The giant snout nudges my chin. It is not your doing. Only the wizard goes around killing girls.

  “I know, but I was trying to save her and I may have been overzealous.”

  Sometimes, all you can do is try. Sometimes it is not enough. Neither is your fault.

  I sink down on the bank again. From this vantage, the dragon blocks the sun from my line of vision and it surrounds him with a halo of glittering light. It is so lovely I wish to reach out and touch it.

  But since I also wish to keep my hands, I refrain.

  “My father brought me back with a spark of life. But he cannot bring the girl back because he used it all up on me.”

  A sharp gust of dank air is my only response. I try to read the expression in the pale yellow eyes, but without success.

  Your father did this? Do you know what he used?

  I nod miserably. I do not like that a dragon had to cry for me to be reborn. “He told me dragons’ tears are the most powerful and can bring people back to life.”

  Batu’s head rears back. Where did he get this knowledge?

  “From the markets, I think. That is where he finds these things. He uses his knowledge for good, for science. We only want to thwart the wizard—”

  Your father plays with dangerous forces, sister.

  I suck in my breath. “He knows what he is doing, and it is all for the good of Bryre. If I could tell him about you, we could all work together.”

  Batu shakes his enormous head. No, sister. We have a bond, a blood oath. You must not break it.

  “I cannot break it even if I wanted to. Just thinking of doing so makes my tongue freeze.”

  I am sorry. This is the only way for us to be safe. The wizard has eyes and ears everywhere.

  “Father would be so kind to you, just like he is kind to the girls we free from Bryre.” The image of the poor child from last night vaults to the forefront of my mind, and my hands quiver. I was not half so kind as Father when I stung her. More than anything I wish I could take it back, undo what was done.

  What exactly are you doing with the girls from Bryre? Has the city become so corrupt that they require rescuing?

  “The wizard sent a curse into the city that sickens the girls. They have to be quarantined to contain the spread of the disease, but the wizard steals them from the hospital and imprisons them. Each night I sneak into the city to free the girls and bring them to Father. He has a cure for the disease, and we keep them safe and hidden.” I clench my fists. “Soon, we’ll find that wizard, and we’ll make sure he’ll never harm another girl again.”

  Your father cures them, does he? Intriguing. Not many men would go to such lengths for strangers.

  Pride blooms in my chest. “My father is not most men.”

  Batu flaps his wings as he settles back onto his haunches, yellow eyes considering me.

  Sister, if I could give you my tears to bring the girl back, I would. But I fear I cannot. They have all been spent weeping over my fallen brothers and sisters.

  This beast is truly a mind reader. I have been dying to ask, but could not find the nerve. It did not seem right. “You cannot cry for a human child?”

  You can only cry so much until your life is wept away.

  My tears spring forth again, shattering the glittering image before me. My faint hope of catching up to Darrell and the girl withers. I brush the tears away.

  “What happened to your brothers and sisters?” I ask. I cannot help but wonder about this dragon and how he came to be as lonely as I am.

  The wizard happened. He huffs, air ruffling the waves of the river. Once, rock dragons filled the mountain range. Batu flicks his tail in the direction of the peaks. Fire dragons nested in volcanoes, water dragons in rivers, and nearly invisible air dragons in the clouds. The rock dragons and water dragons lived in harmony with men, though the air dragons kept to themselves and fire dragons had too hot a temper. But then men discovered they could take our magic by killing us. The power corrupted them, making them greedy for more. Our numbers dwindled and the men who had become wizards began to fight among themselves, killing each other to gain more power. By that time, my clan had only a dozen members left. We roamed across all these lands and ones far away, keeping on the move. But the wizards picked us off, until there was only a single wizard. Always hunting, always chasing.

  Anger flares up my neck. I hate that wizard.

  Batu exhales again, curling his wings around his body. I do not know what became of the other wizards. They either fled from that one’s power, or he consumed them in his greed. One wizard was more than enough. I was the youngest in my clan, a mere draglet when we were first on the run. Sometimes we remained in one place for years, other times only days. Each time, the others protected me, so I could escape. Until the last time. My sister fought the wizard, and when I tried to help her, she brought the mountain down around the
m to keep me out and give me time to flee.

  Batu hangs his huge scaly head. They were braver than I. Now I am alone, punishment for my cowardice.

  I place a tentative hand on his snout. The rough, granite skin is oddly warm. “I do not believe you are a coward. You only did what was necessary to survive. And I am very glad you did.”

  He huffs twice, then leans into my hand. I smile slowly, warmth filling my insides. I may not have a complete human family anymore, but I believe I have found a friend.

  When I sneak into Bryre, I run straight to the hidden entrance to the palace. I am more convinced every day that something strange is going on in the city—and it cannot only be because of the wizard. An empty palace, crumbling in places, with a well-maintained garden? Bizarre. Someone is here during the day and keeps the grounds. But why? And for whom? Does the council parade into the palace each day to keep up appearances for the people of the city, as Father suggests? The mystery of Bryre’s palace is far stranger than anything in my fairy tales.

  And the notes Ren leaves—what can they mean? Father understands some of them, but others stump even him. I want to know more.

  I prowl the garden, hunting for some sign or scent of Ren. The only trace is the smell of bread clinging to the bench where I left him. I sneak inside the palace walls, but tonight not even a note awaits me.

  He is gone. He must have woken up perplexed and gone on his way. Perhaps he will still stop by the fountain.

  I hope I have not scared him off.

  When I reach the fountain, I sit on the rim, dangling my legs in the water. One is darker skinned than the other, but I will cover it before Ren appears. If he says anything, I can always claim it is a trick of the light, or a wayward shadow. He does not need to see what I am truly made of, that I am not like the other girls who live in Bryre.

  Sometimes I wish I was more like them, but then I wouldn’t be able to help Father in his mission. I may look different, but I have abilities they could hardly dream of. If only what makes me special did not also set me apart. I have more in common with a dragon than I do with Bryre’s girls.

  “You came back.”

  The warm voice from behind startles me out of the fountain with an undignified splash. I hit the ground hard, but manage to keep my wits—and tail and wings—close about me. I did not even smell his approach. I was too consumed by my circling thoughts to pay attention to what was happening in the present.

  I will not make that mistake again. It could have been a dear one.

  Ren holds out his hand before I can even take one full breath. I raise my eyes, and put my palm in his.

  His warm, strong fingers pull me up. I do not require his assistance to stand, but I accept it more out of curiosity than anything. Is this how a boy normally treats a girl who falls off a fountain? I have a niggling feeling most girls do not fall off fountains, but I push that aside.

  Ren is here. Ren is alive. Ren is warm and fascinating and he holds another rose out to me with a sheepish grin.

  “I, uh, I’m not sure what happened last night. My memory is a little cloudy. I thought I saw you and gave you this, but I couldn’t remember when I woke up.” He runs a hand through his hair. It is a not a gesture I have seen before, but my brain provides an answer to the mystery of its meaning. Ren is nervous. For some reason, I feel like I am soaring over the treetops even though my feet touch the ground.

  I reach out with my free hand and take the rose, bringing it to my nose to breathe in the aroma. “Thank you,” I say. A creeping redness rises on my neck. He still holds my hand and I have made no move to release it. I rather enjoy both the creeping glow and the pressure of his hand in mine.

  “I’m Ren,” he says, and I do not let on that my memories of the previous evening are far less clouded than his.

  “My name is Kymera,” I say. This is the first time I have introduced myself to a human. It is an odd sort of thrill, as though we have entered into some kind of secret partnership.

  “Kymera,” he repeats. “I like it. It suits you.” I love the way my name rolls off his tongue. I want to hear him speak it in his warm voice a hundred times over. Not knowing how to respond, I just smile. He takes this as a positive sign.

  “Something about you is so familiar, but I can’t quite place it,” he says. “Are you new in Bryre?”

  “I do not live in Bryre. I live outside the city.”

  “I thought as much. Everyone who lives in Bryre knows not to be out after the curfew.”

  “You are out after the curfew.”

  He laughs. “True. And I can’t tell you why, either. So I suppose I shouldn’t pressure you. Wouldn’t be fair, would it?” He winks and I laugh with him.

  “It would not.” Yes, I like Ren very much. His warmth, his laugh, and his voice make me feel like I am floating.

  He squeezes my hand. “Since you’re new to our city, would you like to see something?”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, it won’t be much of a surprise if I tell you, would it?”

  I giggle. I cannot help it. “I suppose not.”

  He gestures with his head toward an alleyway. “Trust me?”

  I do. In spite of all Father’s misgivings, I trust this boy without hesitation. Now that I have spoken to him, I am positive he cannot be in league with the wizard.

  I squeeze his hand back. “Yes.”

  “Keep up,” he says as he takes off at a run, pulling me with him. I keep pace effortlessly. In fact, I am faster than he is. But I do not want to outrun him. I just wish to remain here, running side by side and hand in hand with Ren through Bryre. The breeze is just the right temperature to keep us cool and the moon above provides enough light to keep us from stumbling.

  As we pass buildings I do not recognize, I wonder where Ren is taking me. Should I be concerned? The buildings grow farther apart and seem more run down. Bricks tumble into weed-filled flower beds, and broken windows wink as we run by. Not a soul breathes in this section of town. Even the guards keep their distance, as far as I can tell. When he stops, I cannot help gaping. A huge gnarl of vines and thorns rises in front of us. It appears to be swallowing a building whole. And the ground. The green vines and black thorns, dotted with an occasional blossom, spread over everything in view. To my right lies a steeple; the tip still struggles to remain above the climbing vines. Plants in the shapes of small, blocky houses line the edge of what was once the road. And the street is now a nest of creeping thorns twisting together amid overturned cobblestones.

  “What is it?” I ask, unable to keep the astonishment from my voice.

  “It’s the back of the palace and the neighborhood that once housed most of its servants.”

  I shudder. I never went that far back in the palace. I only ever saw that one hall where the roots of this plant must have been punching through the walls and floor. I did not stop to explore more for fear of neglecting my real duty.

  “It is horrifying.”

  Ren nods. “But here’s the strange thing. It’s not just any thorny plant. It’s part briar patch, part creeping vine. No one has ever seen anything like it.” Ren is animated as he talks, waving his free arm about. He retains a firm grip on my hand with the other.

  “Why does no one cut it back?”

  “Cutting it does nothing. You trim it, and it’s back doubly strong the next day. We tried burning it once, but it grew right back in three days. Three days!”

  “Incredible,” I say.

  “It sure is.” He leans over. “Can you keep a secret?”

  My face burns with his closeness. “I can.”

  “It’s gotten bad enough that it’s taken over the living quarters of the palace. Completely torn them apart. Even swallowed up a servant while he slept. And it creeps further into the palace every day. You can’t tell from the front gates. Most people don’t have a clue how rampant this is. They only know they had to evacuate this section of the city due to pests of some kind.”

  This explains wh
y the palace is empty at night. These briars are far more pervasive than I realized. They forced the king to leave and seek safety elsewhere.

  “That is the secret? That this exists?”

  “There’s more to this”—he waves his hand at the thorny monstrosity—“than just overfed flora. There’s dark magic at work. Someone wants to get to the king.”

  I gasp. Ren’s words leave no doubt. This must be the wizard’s work. No wonder they have not been able to get rid of it.

  “Who?” I ask.

  “No one knows.” He shrugs, but the sparkle in his eyes reveals that he holds something back. I bet he thinks it’s the wizard too. Or he really does work for the wizard and enjoys showing off his master’s accomplishments. But that does not seem likely.

  “How do you know all this? It is quite a story you tell.” I do my best to laugh off the question, but still hope for an answer.

  He waggles a finger at me. “That I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

  Ren drags me back down the alleys, away from the strange, viney briars. He slows when we approach the cherub fountain again. Our fountain.

  He smiles apologetically. “I must take my leave. Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” I can hardly speak. I do not want him to go.

  “Wonderful,” he says. He runs down the alley, glancing over his shoulder to wave as he goes.

  I stand like a statue at the fountain’s rim, waiting until the warm smell of just-baked bread fades from the night air.

  DAY THIRTY-THREE

  BENEATH THE WILLOW IN THE YARD, I WATCH THE SUN RETREAT OVER the hedge, lighting all the trees on fire. Father has been out at the markets most of the afternoon. He is always looking for more ingredients for his experiments, and he has the best luck finding them in the outlying villages and traveling markets. Despite the guilty weight of secrets, I wandered toward the river again the moment he was out of sight in the hopes I might see my dragon. I’ve yet to find Batu first, but he is as good as his word and he never fails to find me.