Page 47 of Where Shadows Bloom
“If the gods could give you anything you’d ask for—of all the things you could ask, of all the people you could help, how could anyone noble and good ask for immortality? Foryouth?”
I gaped at her. “I—I’ve never wondered such a thing.” It was, perhaps, an odd request for a king. In fairy tales, a king who’d been granted a wish would ask for wisdom. Unless he was a fool of a king.
“Well,” I mumbled, “wouldn’t you ask the same thing of the gods?Icertainly don’t want to grow old—”
“I do.” She touched a trembling hand to her chest. “I did not get to see my friends grow old. I thought I would never live past sixteen!Thatis something I would wish for, at my most selfish—to die gently, wrinkled and gray and beautiful, with my beloved’s hand in mine.”
Her beloved. Was it me?
And then my thoughts snagged upon her other words—she thought she’d die young.
It was not an unfounded fear. It felt like moments ago that I was holding her in my arms, watching the pallor of death creep over her lovely face. I squeezed my eyes shut. No, I could not bear death, andthatwas why I would want to be forever young. Forever safe from the clutches of such darkness, such cold. If I had my way, I’d bless Lope with that immortality, too. Perhapsshewould be happy aging with someone she loved, but even the thought of watching my beloved fade away was too much for me to bear.
I could understand the king in the wish he’d chosen. To be safe from death; to be forever twenty years old, the same age when he was first crowned.
But if I lived at this palace, I’d grow older than he would. Mother and I would age, and die, and he would be left behind.
Perhaps immortality was not such a wonderful gift, after all.
“I admit we know very little about his character,” I said. I lifted the letter in my hand, giving it a little shake. “But Lo, Mother clearly trusts him.”
“Perhaps her note was forged.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Forged? By whom?”
“Does the king have other letters from her? Or any of her writings? A note or a request or something?”
I looked down at the handwriting. It was so clearlyMother’s. And she referred to our garden and the way I’d begged her to have a garden bursting with pink.
He’d kept their love letters, he’d said.
Was this letter only an imitation?
Lope stepped closer to where I sat, standing only a foot away from me. “This letter is theonly proofwe have that he’s telling the truth,” said Lope, her voice soft.
I was exhausted. By the doubting, by the way she was always in search of some enemy to save me from, even when I had yet to see any monsters here. All my life, Le Château was touted as the safest place in the country. Theonlyplace safe from Shadows. Everything in me rebelled against the thought that we had traveled here, had been through so much, only to not find that safety.
But I trusted her. Shehadsaved me from Shadows, again and again, even while I slept soundly, carelessly, back at the manor. She risked her life while I dreamed.
It would be far easier to take the king at his word, yes... but Lope’s instincts had never let me down.
“What are we to do, then?” I murmured.
I slipped off the bed and set aside the letter, letting my fingers graze over the seashell, over a silver mirror, over a new ruby necklace. I remembered sitting by the king’s side in the sunshine and how he spoke so fondly of my mother. So reverently. He said they would sit by the canal together and that he could watch her sketching for hours.
When I was with her, I would forget that I was king at all, he’d said.
All of his beautiful words—could they really have been lies?
Then everything, all the beauty of Le Château, all the promise of Mother’s safety and my marvelous, welcoming future—it would all shatter. I did not know if I could bear that.
And tomorrow, I’d have to act like nothing had changed.
“I cannot avoid the king, Lope,” I said.
“No.” Her eyes glinted. “But you can gather the truth about who he is. Not from him. From other courtiers. From exploring the palace, its paintings, its books. If we are trapped here, let us set a trap in return. Let us learn its secrets.”
“Like the garden,” I murmured. “With the guards and the way it’s closed by night...”
