Tessellations [BOOK TWO]

Chapter Twenty

PART THREE

Little lost child,
Where will you go?
For winter has fallen,
You're drowned in the snow

It wasn't like waking up—more like wading through clouds of thick, scratchy wool. I wanted to open my eyes, but I felt disembodied.

Slowly, painstakingly, I began to regain a sense of my limbs—and immediately wished I hadn't. Every nerve burned like candlewicks set ablaze. I felt like the sun, my skin woven from pure itch.

Where am I?

In a wave, the night before flooded my memory. The coronation. Crwys. The ball. Jasper. Not Jasper. Then the elraender, like ice under my skin and behind my eyes.

Jasper, I thought again, desperation forming like a wasp in my throat. Please, please answer.

It was no use; the words bounced aimlessly inside the confines of my own head. The drug still hadn't worn off entirely

Somewhere nearby—voices. I pried one eye half open, then the other. My cheek was pressed against a cool marble floor, my back up against a wall. I vaguely sensed my hands bound behind my back and gritted my teeth. Troll bones, I thought, accompanied by a number of other words that would have made Aunt Finna blush.

The room was small and dim, lit by candles along the walls. I could make out the legs of furniture. An armchair. A desk. A man wearing a pair of simple but finely made boots.

I craned my neck and swallowed a breath. Vakari. He was alone, and he seemed to be speaking to a mirror. He was still wearing his coronation white and gold—a slim ray of comfort, as it meant that I couldn't have been missing for more than a few hours. His crown rested on a nearby dresser, its gold glittering darkly in the weak light.

"Fret as they like, they dare not question me. I am their king now. The girl's disappearance will go unsolved. Your plan, my lord, is without a single stray stitch."

"My plan?"

My eyes widened; this voice was not Vakari's. For a moment I sought its source, then realized with dread that, though the mouth of Vakari's reflection was moving, his was not.

The prince in the mirror was darker, as if overcast by shadow, with eyes that glowed venom-red. "Were this my plan, the girl would have been mine the day she set foot in the western lands. No, Vakari, this plan is yours alone, and for your sake I hope that it is utterly seamless."

Vakari bowed his head. "Your patience is much appreciated, my lord. You have my word, it will be rewarded."

"My asset is very near. Should you fail, it will complete the task that you were unfit to see to yourself."

"That won't be necessary, my lord. Our hour is almost at hand."

My heart lurched in my chest. I strained at the cord that trapped my wrists, but it was too strong.

Jasper—Jasper had given me something, had he not? Yes. Magic. He'd given me words, words that meant something. I struggled to remember them, my mind still a blur, my skin crawling with adrenaline.

Vakari's reflection was speaking again. "Your purpose is simple. Deliver the girl to me, and your reign will be a prosperous one. I expect not to hear from you again."

Think, Bird, think!

Vakari bowed. The figure was already evaporating from the mirror, its red eyes melting down its face like candied cherries.

In a flash, the word came to me. "Break," I whispered, my voice scarcely more than a breath. The cord snapped, fizzing golden like a holiday candle. Dizzy and disoriented, I lurched to my feet.