As Ajax's words rattle around in my head, another figure steps around the corner from the bedrooms. A tall, lanky boy with brown skin and dark auburn hair sizes me up and down. He points his long, calloused finger at me.
"So, you are the girl who almost killed Ruben?" he says, arching his thick brow and tightening his jaw. The cosmos sparkles in those cool-toned eyes, and a curious smile slips across his face.
I open my mouth to protest but words die on my tongue.
Killian throws his head back and howls with laughter, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "I am sure you humbled our beloved prince."
"Killian, let's not be weird today. We have an important matter to discuss," Ajax says, pinching the bridge of his nose, and letting out a groan.
"What matter?" Killian tosses me a side glance, almost as if I cannot hear the pair speaking. His dark auburn hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn't bother to flick it away.
"The uprisings across the river." Ajax points in the general direction of the Convex Sector, before shooting me a sympathetic smile. "The rebellion against the king."
"Keep your voice down," Ruben hisses, putting a finger over his lips. "Anyone could be beyond that door."
Ajax scoffs and shakes his head. "I thought you wanted to save the world from your old man." He crosses his arms, elbowing Ruben in the ribs.
"Just the kingdom. I can think about the world another time. I'd just rather not have to worry about you two." Ruben paces to the window, peering out as if he's expecting to see a cavalry of Tranqs coming to arrest us all.
"So, you're the one who's sparked all the chaos, Elle?" Killian says, waggling his brows.
I click my tongue, letting out a shaky laugh. "I didn't mean to."
"We are glad," Ajax says, throwing me a wink. "We have been waiting for someone like you for years. Now, the Convex are finally seizing their chance to fight."
"But you're Concave, right?" I tilt my head. "I didn't think Concaves would want to change the status quo."
"Well, we aren't all selfish idiots." Ajax shrugs and pours us each a shot of whiskey. We collapse around the small round table. "There's a few Concaves who understand the absolute unfairness of our society. We have power in our voices. If you feel like giving me people equalities is going to take things away from you, you have never been without."
I feel Killian's sunken eyes on me as Ajax's words ring into the space between us all, his brows furrowing. "You're a Fallon, aren't you?" he says, a strange, dark look crossing his face.
"Yes. The Fallons have had a name for themselves for a while, thanks to my father." I sip the whiskey, cringing at the sharp, bitter taste. It is what I imagine venom would taste like.
"And now you continue the legacy." Killian tips his glass towards me, something shifting in those copper eyes.
"I suppose I do."
We drink until the night falls, and the moon ascends into the sky. I awake the following morning back at the palace with a pounding head and spend the rest of the day curled up in bed, feeling sorry for myself.
--
I rub my eyes as I traipse into the kitchen, finally emerging from my gremlin-like state as the palace falls asleep again. Pockets of shadows have hidden away from a couple of flickering candles. My stomach rumbles as I dig out a roll my bread from the pantry, and cheese from the cool room. They quell the ache. I sit at the table, staring out of the window at the fingers or orange light stretching lazily over the walls. An icy breeze blows drafts through the windows, not quite sealed. But I revel in the coolness against my cheeks. Drying the sweat from the nightmares that snared me.
My eyes glaze over. My mind travels elsewhere, dreaming of my father brewing my sister and I tea every winter morning as children. But their brutal exile from the city, with nothing but the clothes on their backs flashes across my mind and I cringe. My heart aches and my stomach curdles, my cheeks scorching. I push the thought of my father away like I always do.
But I couldn't wait until morning in that room. By myself. With only my thoughts for company. As I sit on, hunched on the table, a knocking sound startles me from my still hungover, groggy state. A shadowy figure emerges from the back kitchen door.
Aston.
Joy and bewilderment ricochet through my body and a shrill laugh falls from my mouth as I bound up to him, flinging myself into his chest. Warm, soft, and smelling of pine and the earth. He pushes me forward and holds my shoulders.
"What the hell? How did you get here?" The words rush from my mouth the water down the river.
"You need to come with me," he seethes. Jaw tight, he sighs through his nose. "Don't ask questions."
Of course, a hundred questions prickle on my tongue. But I nod and follow him outside. His bony horse and loaded grocery cart hug the darkness outside. Aston nudges me and I hoist myself into his cart. With a gentle flick of the reigns, we lurch forward. I fight the tears brimming my eyes as I regard Aston. His head remains facing the back of the horse's ears, but a flicker of amusement plays at his lips. But I keep my mouth shut while we navigate through the Concave Sector, and across the bridge. I lean back, smiling at the star-freckled sky and liquid night. Wondering if the stars have ever known the darkness surrounding them.
Fear raps against my ribs. What am I about to see?
I swallow my impatience and wait. We skirt the outside of the Convex Sector, along the river, and towards the network of streets. The familiar streets welcome me into their cold arms as we navigate our way closer to my apartment right in the heart of the village. The run-down, red brick building looks no different than the day the Tranqs arrested me. Sweat springs to my forehead in beads. I am a far cry from the girl who foraged for measly potatoes in her illegal forest garden. The thought makes my stomach lodge into my spine. We dismount the cart, leaving the horse with a pail of water, and fastened to a candlelight lamp post as we slip into the building. Dust and grime cling to our nostrils as we climb the groaning steps and arrive at my apartment.
Aston holds his hand out before we enter, his brows knitting together, his eyes clouding over. "Elle," he says, tone gentle. "Brace yourself. I will explain the best I can once we are inside."
I nod, gnashing my teeth. We enter the apartment and I almost kneel over. Lyra hunches on the torn couch. Her eyes travel to me, hollow and distant. Her ribs poke out from beneath her shirt and a yellow tint sits on her skin, blotchy in the crevasses of her prominent cheekbones. My mouth dries and I snarl at Aston. "What the hell happened?"
He throws his hands up defensively. "With the Tranqs crawling in the fields, and the markets, I haven't been able to steal food for her. I understand Prince Talin provided some goods, but whoever he sent has clearly tampered with the food. It was rotten or I could smell the poison lingering on the potatoes."
I hang my head, balling my fists, long nails digging into my palms. Lyra's lip quivers as I scurry over and crouch before her.
"Elle," she rasps, her head lolling to the side as if it's too heavy on her fragile bones. "I think I'm dying."
"That is ridiculous," I snap, shaking my head.
"I'm sick, not just starving," she says, her cracked, pallid lips trembling and my toes curl. "I've been vomiting my guts out for days. Can barely keep water down let alone food. I am... I am going to finally join Mama in the stars." The finality of her words makes my vision blur, and my cheeks burn.
No.
"I'm going to be right back." I rise to my feet, making for the exit, reaching for the wall to steady myself from the grief crashing through me, the world trying to knock me to my knees. "I will talk to the prince and deliver you fresh food myself." A tiny voice rises into the back of my head. That incessant, gut-wrenching reminder. Lyra never did recover from our mother's death.
"Stop, Elle," she says, voice firm enough to render me still in the doorway. "Come back. Sit down."
But I am a little girl silently screaming for my sister to stay, stay, stay with me.
Yet, my lips do not move. And my muscles urge me to do no such thing, but I sit before her anyway, crossing my legs. I raise my brows at her expectantly. "You have to save us, Elle," she says., her voice so sure a sliver of me is rallied by her. Awoken. "With the handsome prince by your side, you can destroy this kingdom from the inside out."
I blink at her, my mouth going so dry it's an extra effort to swallow. "Why are you saying this?"
She heaves a ragged breath. "Because word on the wind is you have sparked something in us."
"Sparked what?"
"Hope," she says, a tear slipping down her cheek, over her lips. "You have sparked hope in some of the Convex we will not always live in their world."
"You are talking nonsense," I say, letting out a low laugh. I glance at Aston leaning against the window ledge, chewing his lips, his face pale.
"I am not, Elle," Lyra says, drawing in another gasp for air. "You must take accountability for what you have. Stop denying what you have sparked. It does no one any good to wallow in self-pity." She pauses, reaching for the wooden pail at the end of the couch and retching into it. It's only red splotched bile. She groans in pain, and curses. "My throat feels like it's been shredded by a bunch of tiny blades."
I hold the pail, biting the inside of my cheek and gagging at the stench hitting my nose.
"The city knows of the girl who killed the Tranq." She smears the vomit dribbling down her chin with a handkerchief. "No one else has dared such a crime. The fire from your spark will catch any minute now. You must be getting to know the prince quite well now. If he has a shred of decency, he will help you. Perhaps, the king's maliciousness will end with his bones."
Weeps bubble up my throat and I fling myself into her arms. Her skin is cold to the touch and for a moment I fear I'm too heavy for her. She struggles to push me out with her weak hands, resting her trembling, icy fingers on my shoulders. Her eyes blaze.
"Father would be proud of you. He wanted this, too. You are his legacy."
--
Silvery dawn light stumbles across the sky when Aston ushers me back into the palace kitchen. I throw myself into his arms, drawing in his scent and studying the lines of his face, the hazel of his eyes. Then I turn and scurry into the hallway, navigating my way through the palace to my room. I light the candle by the door to chase away the shadows and almost yelp. Ruben lounges on my bed. His arms over his head, snoring lightly. He wears nothing but black pants and a white tunic as if he threw it on before racing to my room.
"What the hell?" I growl, marching over and poking his shoulder.
He sits up so fast I stumble back in fright, and he snorts. "The same question I have for you." He shakes his head. "Where the hell have you been?"
I cross my arms. "Didn't realise it was your business, Ruben," I retort.
"Unbelievable." He clicks his tongue, throwing his hands into the air as he stands from the bed. "You fled across the river, didn't you?"
I open my mouth to respond.
"And don't lie to me."
"What does it matter?" Heat creeps into my cheeks. "I returned."
His braying laughter boils my blood. "Naïve, hot-headed fool. You better hope the king does not find out."
"My sister is dying," I bark, balling my fists. "Someone is poisoning her food and Aston has nothing to give her because of the rotten crops! He's scarcely more than a skeleton himself. If I lose the only two people I love –"
"Then you need to stay on this side of the river, Elle," he says, grinding his teeth. "It is the only way I can promise they will stay safe."
"Then I will never see them again. Lyra will be dead in a couple of days."
The harsh glint in his eyes softens. He heaves a sigh. "I will investigate what is wrong with the food I'm sending her. It shouldn't be poisoned. Someone must have tampered with it."
"Probably a Tranq," I say with a sneer.
He winces, pacing to the window. "We need to show up for lunch today. The king will give us his blessing. I came here this morning to wake you for an early training session, only to find you missing."
I blow out my cheeks and shift my weight. "Then let's get breakfast and get on with it."
We traipse back through the palace, into the kitchen and my jaw drops. The doorway and kitchen floor are covered in a layer of squashed tomatoes. Larissa mutters curses under her breath as she mops the floorboards, shooting her frown to Aston. His cheeks match the tomatoes, and he plunges another mop into a wooden pail. His wide eyes flick between me and Ruben.
"What the hell, Aston?" Ruben asks. Meanwhile, Larissa tuts under her breath.
Aston swallows, chewing on his lip as if he's withholding a laugh. I stifle an uncomfortable breath, giggles welling in my chest. "I dropped a crate of tomatoes."
Ruben blinks at him, and then turns to me and throws his head back, howling with laughter. "What an entrance, Aston," he says, beaming. He turns back to me with a warning glint in his eyes. "This is your cunning, careful friend?"
I nod, opening my mouth to speak.
"I apologise for the wasted food, Prince Talin," Aston says, squeezing the excess water from the mop and swiping it along the floorboards.
Ruben waves his hand. "I'm not worried about the food. I'm worried about your little journey across the river with Elle overnight."
The shadows falling over Aston's face make my stomach twist. "Her sister is sick. She's on death's door."
"I understand and I'm so sorry. But if the king finds out... we were lucky he agreed to the wedding, Elle." He shoots me a pointed look.
"Lyra wouldn't be in this situation if Elle was home. If you hadn't been in the forest that day," Aston snarls, stalking forward until his chest is inches from Ruben's. "Do not try to fool me. You are not a good person either, Prince Talin. You are using Elle to distract the Concaves from the real problem."
"Might I remind you, Elle killed a man, Aston," Ruben says through gritted teeth, his demeanor now a far cry from a friendly laughter moments ago. "You are a farmer and the king's soldier. Perhaps death doesn't have the same meaning to you."
I grind my teeth and glare at him. A spark catches and courses through my veins.
"You know nothing about me, Prince," Aston spits, his knuckles growing white around the mop, a vein pulsing in his neck. "Trust the prince to disregard the skeletal bodies piling in the Convex village streets."
"Bodies?" I say, my stomach churning, trembling from the rage.
Aston doesn't even look at me. "In the square. The cemetery men are working overtime to load the bodies into their carts. The blight has worsened. People are about to turn feral from the insanity of starvation. I am sure the prince knows nothing of hunger."
Ruben and Aston stare at each other, eyes blazing, jaws tight. The prince swallows bodily, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "And you know nothing of me." The air is stale as if the oxygen has leeched out. Aston scoffs and stalks to the exit.
"Wait," Ruben says. He trudges into the dim-lit scullery and emerges with a woven sack filled with fresh, healthy potatoes and spinach. "Take this."
"I won't take scraps from the likes of you," Aston says, a bite to his tone.
Ruben's eyes flash. "I am not your enemy, Aston. Take the food. Give it to Lyra and take some for yourself."
Aston snorts, shaking his head as he prowls to the exit. His nose scrunched as glowered. "If you are not my enemy, let me take my best friend home so she is safe with me."
"Just take the food, Aston," I say, and my voice cracks. How have I not crumbled from the pain?
He glares at me and presses his lips together. "Fine." Aston snatches the food from Ruben's outstretched hand and disappears into the yawning shadows of sunrise.