Tahki swallowed as he imagined what horrors might lay behind the door. “Sounds very secretive.” He tried to make light of the situation, but Dyraien turned serious.
“A secret is a beautiful, dreadful thing,” Dyraien said. “It is of the utmost importance you know how to keep secrets, Tahki.”
If they only knew. “I was raised to respect confidentiality,” Tahki said.
Dyraien smiled. “That’s very comforting to hear.” He removed a key from his pocket. Whatever hid behind those doors, it needed to be locked in. “I need you to understand that this entire project depends on discretion. If anyone were to find out about this place, about what’s behind this door, it would ruin everything. I’ve worked ten years on this project and handpicked everyone who has set foot inside this castle. Except you. For the first time, I charged Gale with the task of selecting someone to help us. So I must ask: Can I trust you, Tahki?”
“Yes. You can trust me.” Tahki tried to sound like his father when he signed a new decree or treaty. Authoritative. Honorable. Dependable. But his voice peaked a little at the end.
Dyraien didn’t open the door. “I don’t want to frighten you, but please understand that if you do happen to slip, if you tell anyone about this, even if it’s only a hint or a whisper, and I feel you might endanger this project….” He paused. “No. No, I don’t think it will come to that. I have a good feeling about you, Tahki. I know you won’t do anything to displease me.”
Tahki stared. Had Dyraien just threatened to kill him if he told anyone? He hadn’t said the words outright, but the air around them felt thick with implication.
As Dyraien unlocked the door, a small lump of fear rose in Tahki’s throat. They stepped inside. An old oak bed in the center took up most of the space. The pale woman from the window sat in front of the bed, hunched over, mumbling a string of nonsensical words. Her hair was a tangled blonde mess. It looked as though someone had attempted to cut it with dull blades. She chewed on her fingertips and looked up at them as they entered. When she smiled, Tahki knew she was dumb in the head. He’d seen a few simple men back home. The servants called it mind-melt. They lived on the streets without a concept of who they were. They smiled when they bled. They laughed and pointed when animals walked by. They spoke with thick words, as though their gums were swollen. Back home, people like this were considered a nuisance. A thing to avoid. Merchants claimed stepping on their shadows would bring drought and famine.
Dyraien smiled at the woman, but it was a sad smile. “Tahki, I’d like you to meet my mother, Queen Genevi.”
Chapter 5
TAHKI WOKE for the second time that night. He had never been so tired he couldn’t sleep before. The room Dyraien had given him was on the second floor, but he could still hear the river tremble below the castle.
He drew a scratchy blanket up around his neck. His fingers and toes felt numb from cold, but at least he was clean. He’d found a heated bath waiting in one of the rooms. He wasn’t sure if it was meant for him, but Dyraien had insisted. There were no servants, which meant Dyraien had drawn the bath himself. It seemed strange for a prince to perform such a task.
Tahki flipped on his side. A window above his head let in dim light. The walls cracked a bit every time the wind blew. He couldn’t see the moon, but fog outside glowed with silver light.
He put his lumpy pillow over his ears and closed his eyes.
When he couldn’t sleep at home, he’d try to picture what his mother looked like. Not his mother from the portrait his father had commissioned after she’d died, but her face when she was alive. Smooth bronze skin. Moonlight-silver hair. Eyes that shone greener than a rainforest. He’d tried to draw her many times before, but he wasn’t good at drawing people. Sornjia had told him once that she had been reborn as a beautiful golden elephant, but the idea his mother was alive somewhere, and in the body of a dirty animal, only upset him. He didn’t care if Sornjia thought it was a great honor to be reincarnated as a golden elephant, or that his father always seemed pleased when Sornjia talked about it.
His mother was dead. He couldn’t write to her and ask what she thought about Rye. About Dyraien. About accepting this job. About lying about who he was. About the secret Dyraien made him keep.
The queen was out of her mind. But why keep it a secret? The most powerful woman in the world had been reduced to a mumbling heap of crazed woman. That would put Dyraien in command. Wasn’t that what every royal child wanted? To rule in place of their parent? Dyraien had said she’d fallen ill ten years ago and never recovered and that her condition worsened each year, so there was no hope of recovery.
Maybe Tahki had been hired to build the queen a home, where she could be hidden away and kept safe until… what? It was strange and a little unorthodox to keep her illness from the citizens. Someone would find out sooner or later. He wondered how they’d gotten away with it for so long. He’d tried to ask more questions, but Dyraien had smiled and told him, “In the morning, Tahki. All your questions will be answered in the morning.”
A small part of him delighted at knowing such a tremendous secret. It made him feel special. But another part of him recoiled at the danger. If Dyraien, or any of them, found out
