WATTYS 2018 SHORTLIST
"Every person is a book, Yael. You just need to find the right way to read them."
In a land where a deadly curse forces all to wear masks, Yael steals the mask and identity of a noblewoman to infiltrate the nobility and find he...
I transformed into a kitten again and, just so you know, I've been writing this author's note with my paws. It's so freaking difficult to type with paws. Share your thoughts lovelies!!!!rjvhnkksshmokewipkgsjjdyhssfjfsfg
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Chapter 19.5: Rotten Beast
My legs were numb after sitting on the library floor for so long with Nava. It was ten minutes before noon and I hurried towards my next destination. Nava puzzled me. She was too intelligent to be naive, but so honest it seemed as if she didn't understand the value of information. It was like she hated keeping secrets.
It had made my work easy, but I fretted that I had missed something, that I was walking right into a trap.
I had worn wide sleeves, so that when I raised my arm, they slipped down, revealing the bruises I had painted on them this morning. Nava would have also seen the marks along my neck, and the extra redness on my cheek that looked as if I attempted to camouflage it with powder.
I hoped she thought that I had taken quite the beating.
"If I'm honest, I can hardly remember why Waryn hates me," I told her, when I knew she would listen. "I recall us playing together, but I was told he was a prisoner, so I felt superior to him. I was very young."
Perhaps I made a mistake, phrasing it that way, because something in Nava's face darkened. "You want to tell me that you don't remember pushing his arm into the candle? Or setting the hounds on him?"
"How could I have? I was too young to do such things."
"You put dead rats in his bed and broken glass in his shoes. You prevented him every letter from home and told him that his family abandoned him, that he would die soon in Desmelas. Twice, you stole documents from your father's study and hid them under Waryn's bed and they beat him for it every time. Oh, and there was that time, just before he was meant to leave, he tried to hit you. Then, the next day, he was thrown into a filthy, cold cellar for three weeks. You came to gloat every single day."
"Is that what he says happened?"
"Oh, he believes it."
"But you don't?"
Nava wasn't sure she trusted me. I could tell by the way she avoided looking at me. "Like you said, you were barely seven. I know children of that age. They can be fiends, but such actions would frighten them. Something doesn't add up. You were the face, but who was standing behind you?"
I had to hazard a guess—it was easy. One answer would take the blame off Dylana. "My father."
***
"You're late," Afali hissed when I rushed through the wide passage that led to the sun hall, followed by three servants. I was only a short way from the corridor that connected to the guest rooms. It was another bright autumn day, and the sun hall occupied the third story of the central hub. It had three open passageways leading towards it, and sound travelled well to each one. It was not a good place to have a secret conversation, but Afali and I were here to stage a play.
