Monstrous (40 page)

I PACE THE GUEST ROOM IN REN'S HOUSE, WAITING TO BE CALLED FOR
breakfast and meet with the king. Pippa paces with me, hovering a foot off the ground. I woke with the sun, and the later the hour gets, the more impatient I become. The king has been so kind to me. I've decided to tell him everything.

That I'm his daughter.

That Barnabas made me from her parts and the parts of the other girls, too.

That I'm monstrous. A killer, a beast.

Then I'll beg his forgiveness.

I don't know where I'll go after that. I could share Batu's cave, but Barnabas is loose and that makes me uneasy. The only home I remember is with that evil man. The cottage in the woods with goat-chickens that was burned to ash by
the city folk. I don't belong in Bryre, however much I may want to stay here.

When I smell porridge cooking over the fire, I fly through the door and down the hallway. Laura is there, but no one else.

“Where is everyone?”

“They went to the palace,” Laura says, stirring. “The king decided the council is wrong. He won't hide anymore.”

“Already? Wait, Ren is awake?”

Laura smiles. “Yes, and well enough to walk, too.”

I fly out the door before I hear another word. I don't bother with the palace gates but land on the marble steps. I try to compose myself, but I'm too excited. Ren is fine. He's awake and walking and talking and—

And probably still disgusted by me, too.

More people than I've ever seen here mill around the palace and grounds. They crowd the hallway, buzzing with chatter, waiting for something. I push through in spite of their gasps and protests, while loud whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire. The guards at the entrance to the throne room part when they see me.

It's just as I saw in my visions. Sunlight on silver, everything glowing with glorious light.

Oliver sits on his throne with Delia on a low bench beside him, while Ren and his father stand a little ways behind them. I kneel before the king. A hush falls over the crowd at my back. The weight of hundreds of gazes presses into my wings.

“Kymera, I hoped you'd come this morning.”

“What is all this, sire? I thought the palace was closed.” I whisper. I had not anticipated the audience, and its presence threatens my resolve to confess everything. But I must.

Oliver waves a hand. “I felt it would be best to address my people's grievances today. It's been a hard year for us all and I've been away far too long. Now what can I do for you?”

“I must ask your forgiveness.” The tips of my ears burn as a low murmur rolls through the gathered people.

“Whatever for?”

“For everything I've done, everything I am.” I twist a wayward thread on my skirt around my finger, uncertain where to start. “I helped Barnabas steal the girls and send them to Belladoma. He tricked me. He told me we stole them from the wizard and sent them somewhere safe, but I should've known better. I just—I couldn't tell what was true.” My hands clench in frustration; I'm already making a mess of this. And publicly, too.

“I know, Kymera. Ren told me. He was quite angry with you for a time, though I believe he's coming around.”

Ren stares at the marble floor, while a hint of red creeps up his neck. Could that be true? Could he have forgiven me? That's more than I dared to hope. But I must confess everything.

“You know I killed Darrell the trader, but what you don't know is that Emmy died because of that. He had her tied to a chair rigged to stab her in the back. When I attacked him, it set it off.” Sweet little Emmy, who only wanted to see her mother and father again, and I couldn't save her.

A murmur runs through the crowd, and it turns my stomach.

“There's more. I also accidentally killed one of the girls. She wasn't strong enough to withstand the venom of my barb. It's only supposed to put people to sleep.” Tears slip from my eyes, as I remember her still form in the cold box in the lab and my horror at seeing her body in the city. “I'm a monster.”

“I know.”

My pulse quickens. My mouth is waxy and dry. The crowd is dead silent, like they are all holding their breath. This next part I'm certain Oliver doesn't know.

“I . . . I was your daughter.”

The room goes perfectly still. Oliver's advisers, huddled in one corner at a long table, gape in my direction.

He reaches for my hand. “I know that, too.”

I gasp. “But . . . but . . . how?”

A spark flares in his eyes. “Because I know Barnabas. What better way to punish me than by transforming my firstborn into a monster and using her against me? He's deranged and it's just the sort of thing he would do. I suspected the first time I met you. You had such a vague past and your eyes were—are—so familiar.” His face softens and he squeezes my hand. “What he did to you, it is not your fault. You were Bryre's princess and my daughter, and owe no one an apology for that madman's crimes.”

The murmurs return and swell into an outright rumble. My entire body is aflame with embarrassment. I should have waited until tonight and spoken to Oliver privately. Here
I'm only providing fodder for the gossip mongers, though it's much too late to turn back.

“I'm sorry for everything I did. If I could take it all back, I would.”

Oliver straightens up. “One thing in all this struck a chord with me. In everything you did, you were motivated by a desire to help others. To protect Bryre and its people.”

My mouth drops open.

“Granted, you were gravely misguided, but your intentions were pure. That's why I want to make you an offer.”

My gaze snaps up to meet Oliver's. “What do you mean?” The rumbling audience grows louder.

He leans forward and whispers in my ear. “I know you don't have a home here in the city. I imagine you're feeling rather alone now, are you not?”

I bow my head, not sure what to say.

“You were my Rosabel once. I'd like to fix that.” He leans back and speaks louder, his eyes shining more than they did before. “Kymera, will you accept the title of City Guardian and swear to protect Bryre and its occupants as long as you live?”

I don't have to hide. I can help, and I won't have to conceal what I am. I stand, wings flapping and tail twitching.

“Yes.”

To my shock, this is met with cheers and applause. I whirl around, staring at the people gathered in the room. They are . . . smiling. Clapping. Gone are the fearful stolen glances. Replaced by something else—could it be pride? Could these people possibly want me to remain in the city?
Happiness blooms under my ribs, the pressure bringing tears to my eyes.

“Then it is so.” Oliver turns me back around to kiss my hand. He whispers, “Go. Enjoy the beauty of a late-summer day while it lasts. We will make plans to defend Bryre again soon enough.”

“Kym,” Ren places his hand on my shoulder, this time without flinching. It's the first time he's been able to do that since he discovered what I did. It warms me and I cling to that euphoric feeling. “You belong with us. My family, and your family,” he says. Delia grins at me from over his shoulder, actually meeting my eyes this time. “We all agree. Even my mother. Our home is yours.”

ONLY ONE FULL DAY PASSES AFTER ENSEL'S DEFEAT BEFORE KING OLIVER
summons me to the palace. That is all the time it took for rumors of the wizard to reach the boiling point. A scout was found wandering in the forest only this morning, disoriented and devoid of all his memories. His wife and daughter are beside themselves because he no longer remembers who they are.

Now that I'm Bryre's defender, I must find my false father—and a way to destroy him.

My feet tap of their own accord as I wait for the guard to let me into the throne room. I have always loved the city, but for the first time in this life, I finally feel at home here. I can run freely through Bryre. No one hunts me now. No one is allowed to.

I'm astonished at the welcome I've received. Even Laura has become less prickly toward me. I could not ask for more.

Yesterday, after I settled into the guest room in Ren's family's home, we explored the city in daylight—at last!—but it was marred by the dark cloud of the wizard hanging over us.

Barnabas will come back to finish what he started sooner or later. If the reports are true, it seems he already has.

The city's guards remain on high alert and have begun repairing the outer wall where the briar plant ate through. The work they do today will be torn down by tomorrow, but at least it should slow the process. My hope is bolstered by the fact that the foundation kept Barnabas out.

King Oliver and Delia have been practically inseparable since she returned. It both pleases and saddens me. Oliver shows me great kindness, but it cannot be easy to feel real affection for a monster.

I've peppered Ren with questions about Rosabel. It's strange to hear about one's former self and not recall most of it. Some things he says trigger memories, and they are as precious to me as the new ones I make now. Sneaking out to the market through a tunnel in an old broken-down fountain. A thick maze of hedges with a small, secret garden at its heart. Ren and Delia and I stealing sweet rolls fresh out of the oven from the kitchen, then gobbling them down in the alcove beneath the stairs before the cook could catch us.

Barnabas destroyed that. All his frustrations, taken out on poor King Oliver and his family. And on me.

Me, the monster girl made up of the pieces of Bryre's
children. Does a small part of them remain in me like Rosabel and her foggy memories? Who am I really? While I may have begun as Oliver's daughter, I have since become something else entirely.

I was created to destroy—but I learned how to love instead. Barnabas twisted that love for the city into something wretched and evil, but I overcame that. I rescued the girls, I earned back Ren's trust, and the respect of the king.

Now the only thing I want to destroy is Barnabas. For Bryre. For all the people who died at the wizard's hands. I am them, and they are me. And most importantly, for all the people I love who still live.

When the doors open, I rush by the guard before the words “The king will see you now” are even out of his mouth.

I slide to a stop in front of Oliver and kneel at his feet. “My king,” I say. The words cause a thrill to course through me. I have a king, a country, and a real purpose now. I'll do anything to honor that and keep them safe.

“My dear, there's no need to stand on formality.” Oliver motions for me to rise and I sit on the stairs by his feet.

“You summoned me because of the guard who lost his memory, yes?” I ask.

Oliver nods. “I did, in part. First there is something I want to show you.” He offers me his arm.

Puzzled, I take it. Oliver leads me into a sector of the palace where I haven't ventured before, then down into the depths of the building. While some areas of the castle are pristine, many more than I remember are now slowly
being eaten away by the briar. It grows steadily colder as we descend. The lack of light doesn't trouble me with my cat's eyes, but I marvel that Oliver seems to know it by heart. The walls are a somber gray stone, as is the walkway beneath our feet.

We turn down a long hall that leads to a vast chamber. The walls are honeycombed with alcoves, many of which are half destroyed by long, clinging roots poking out at odd angles and wrapping around the stone columns that hold up the ceiling. These roots are pitch black, reminding me of the Sonzeeki's tentacles. The monster briar plant is deeply embedded in the city. It will not be easy to get rid of.

Oliver walks directly to a raised dais in the center of the room and suddenly I understand why he knows this path so well.

It is the royal crypt.

His wife—my mother—is in the largest stone box on the dais. I run my hands over the form carved in the lid of the marble grave. Her face with its wide eyes and high cheekbones feels familiar. My skin tingles as a new memory rushes forth, taking over my vision.