Page 58 of Chasing the Night
I did as he commanded and discovered that the leather strap amplified my bust, while the long flowing material elongated my already tall frame. Messiah twisted my hair up with a strand of pearls mixed into the coif. They were simple but stood out dramatically against my midnight hair. He painted my lips and smeared kohl around my eyes. I’d never had anyone pay so much attention to my every detail. I was afraid to move, afraid that I would somehow mess up his masterpiece.
I turned ever so slowly to face him and caught sight of a picture hanging near his bed. For a moment, I thought it was me. It was certainly the gown I was wearing. His eyes followed mine, and an awkwardness passed. He knew that I was staring at the picture, he knew that I knew that he knew I was staring at the picture, and yet… he said nothing.
Instead, he took my hand, patted the back of it, and whispered against my earlobe. “Her name was Lisette.”
” What did you mean when you said I had the birth to rival Isabella Krypt?” I blurted out, suddenly uncomfortable as well as confused.
“Come,” he said with a lopsided smile.
The halls were empty. It felt appropriate. I, too, had become hollowed to some degree. The naivety and false realities carved out until even I didn’t know what to fill the emptiness with. I understood, finally, why my mother had found freedom in the forest. It made sense why she hadn’t wished this life for me.
He loaded me into a carriage, and we maintained the sharply edged silence until we were across the bridge.
“Where are we going?” I asked, quickly throwing myself against the door. I don’t know what I would had done if the damn thing had flown open on me.
“We can’t practice in Rochambeau. You are a Krypt, everyone knows you there.” He shifted about and finally afforded me a glance. “There is a trading port at the base of the mountain. A few hours ride. Much coin flows through it, so you will likely meet gentlemen from abroad. Mostly the Spicelands, perhaps a few Inlet Chieftains.”
I looked at him across the space of the bench, unable to prevent the scrunching of my face. “Messiah, I may look like Isabella from a distance, but I’m not Isabella. I don’t have her grace or… or—”
“You’re right, you don’t have her grace, you have more. Much more to offer.” Never one to be rushed to a point, he left the conversation hanging and stared out the window. It was the first sunset I had seen on the move. A gorgeous mingling of blue and pink that melted away my stress for the few moments it lasted.
“You’ve much potential, Chalice… and much to learn.”
I snapped my neck in his direction so fast it hurt. “I have much to learn… how can I learn anything when the rules change every day and the pile of topics that we can’t openly speak on are mounting by the minute?”
He canted his head and gave a nod that said he empathized with my assertion. “Did your mother ever speak about her life on the mountain? Aside from the fact that she was a rebel?”
Another scrunch passed my features, and I swore my eyes might freeze with the crow’s feet decorating either side.
“Chalice. Listen. Stop trying to think on what I tell you and listen.”
I wet my lips and studied him in silence.
He pawed the back of his neck and appeared to be on the verge of speaking several times, before he finally found his words. “You are aware that whoever kills the Excellence is entitled to the fucking throne? Your mother wasn’t exiled, she was set to be crowned, until she feared her sister Isabella would kill you to get to the throne. She ran to protect you… from the same thing you stumbled back to.”