Midnight Wonders

4.5.3. The Covert King of the Yew

The moment Cora set foot in the Red Garden, she picked up her skirts and ran.

"Wait, Cora!" hissed Lavinia, but Cora didn't look back. She just ran.

Running felt strange. It felt real. All the times she'd run before felt like a dream. Now, she could feel the rocky ground through her shoes, hear them scuff against the dirt. The air was rushing into her lungs, the wind whisking by her ear. She was running, and she wasn't running away from something. She was running to someone.

By the time she reached the center of the garden, Tristan was standing in alarm, and he hurried over to her. "Are you all right?" he said, grabbing her by the arms and steadying her. "What happened?"

His grip was tight. It almost hurt. But Cora didn't mind it. She felt it. It was real. There was something safe about how it felt like he wouldn't let go. "I'm...I'm okay," she said, breathing hard. "I just...I..." Her voice cracked, embarrassingly. "The king," she managed. "My father...I..."

Tristan's eyes widened. "Oh," he breathed. Well, that confirmed it.

Lavinia's pounding footsteps came within earshot, and soon she was there too. "Cora!" she demanded. "Why did you—Cora?"

Tristan guided Cora to sit at the table. He pushed a plate of sweets her way. "It's all right," he said, stroking the side of her head. It was only for a moment, and then he let go and turned to Cora. "When?"

Lavinia frowned. "When what?"

"When did she see him?"

"Just now," Lavinia said, which was true. Cora had left the King's room and gone straight back to hers to find her ladies waiting. She'd grabbed Lavinia out of habit, though she supposed she didn't technically need Lavinia to take her to the Red Garden anymore.

"Did you know?" Cora whispered, swallowing a biscuit. It was dry and chalky in her mouth.

Tristan looked at her, stricken. "Me?" he said. "About..."

"That the King of the Yew was my father?" she said. "That I'm from here?

Tristan was silent. She could read the answer on his face long before he finally said, "Yes. I knew."

Cora almost had the urge to hit him. It startled her; she wasn't violent. "We knew each other," she said.

"Yes," he said, almost painfully.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did we know each other well?"

For a moment, Tristan just stared at her. Then he said, "I am from the Sycamore. You are from the Yew. We didn't get to meet often." He broke off and buried his face in his hands.

Cora looked at him, then up at Lavinia, who was still standing, gazing upon Tristan with a mixture of disapproval and pity. Cora looked back at Tristan again. She had the urge to reach out and comfort him, but what could she say? What could she do? She didn't know the extent of their relationship; her relationship with anyone. Mercurius was her father; did that make Symphora her mother? Luc wasn't really her brother, but then who was he? Had Lavinia, Tulla, and Opellia always been her ladies? Who was Tristan to her?

Tristan was now pulling his sleeves over his hands to wipe his face, which was all red. Was he crying? Cora couldn't help herself and reached out to pat him on the knee. "Sorry," she said.

"I should be the one to say that," he said miserably. "I'm sorry. I thought I could get you out of here and back outside before you ever remembered."

"What," said Cora, "would you have just left me there? None the wiser? To think this was all a dream again?"

Tristan glanced at Lavinia for help. She offered none. He looked back at Cora. "I had no other choice," he said. "That would have been the best course of events. Would you want to go outside feeling like there was something pulling you back here?"

Cora paused, frowning. The thing was, she didn't feel as if there were something pulling her back. Yes, Mercurius was her father. But she didn't know him. He was even less familiar than the parents who had never existed. "I have nothing here," she said. "But I do have Luc outside."

"What?" Tristan said. "You don't have me? I thought we were getting married." He surely meant it as a joke, but his voice was still too pinched and creaky to sound lighthearted. And it sent a jab of pain right through Cora's chest, too sharp to be from a joke.

She didn't even know Tristan. Well. If they had met outside, Cora would surely have thought of him as a friend by now; they'd seen each other so many times. And she liked seeing him. She couldn't deny, he was a familiar face. He was a hopeful reminder of escape. He was nice to her, and she could laugh with him. When he wasn't crying.

Cora thought about all the times she'd looked forward to seeing him and thought that it would be rather unfair to not think of him as a friend by now. And of course leaving friends would be sad. But...

"Can't you go out?" she said. "I mean, I got out before."

"Of Under-The-Green-Hill?" Tristan said.

Cora nodded. "You can visit me. See; I won't be leaving anything behind."

"But you..." Tristan paused, thinking hard. Cora let him chew over his words while she chewed on a little crumbly cake. "You've already forgotten me once."

"Well, then I just won't forget again," she said. "It's that easy. And if you visit me, how can I forget you? You can just remind me who you are every time and I'll remember."

Tristan was silent for another moment. "That's unfair," he said, softly, barely above a breath.

"What?"

"I will remember you forever," Tristan said, "but you won't remember me. Every time I'll have to remind you who I am, I will die."

Cora frowned. "You're so dramatic."

He shrugged.

"Wait," said Cora, realizing suddenly. "If my father is the king, then I'm royalty." Tristan was too busy wiping his face, so she looked to Lavinia instead, who just nodded. "And if the labyrinth bends to the will of people who have power in it, does that mean me, too? Can I make it show me an exit?"

"No," Lavinia said simply. "The Queen has more authority than you. Besides..." She hesitated, reaching for a cake of her own. She took a tiny bite off the corner. "The labyrinth has its own will, too."

"It's okay," said Tristan, who had finally gathered himself. "We'll find another way out. I promise."

Cora still felt weird about them knowing each other. What did he know about her that she didn't? How was it that he, whom she had only known for what only felt like a week, could know her better than she knew herself?

"What progress have you made?" she asked instead.

Tristan glanced at her. "I have found a new courtyard that may provide an exit, but I haven't explored it yet. I'm hopeful, though. I heard noises beyond the walls." He paused. "But I'm running out of rouge."

"I'll get you some more," Cora said, her heartbeat quickening. A possible exit. "If there's a way out," she said, "I'll just have to find a way to evade Symphora long enough to leave." She looked at Lavinia. "We can do that, right?"

Lavinia swallowed her cake. "Right," she said. "I'm sure we can."