The Essence
Page 60

Then what? I asked, keeping my eyes on my plate. What can I possibly give you?
Heat bloomed up my neck and flooded my cheeks, making me blush so hard I had no doubt the reaction wasn’t mine.
You know, her voice rasped, coming from right inside my ear now.
I did know. As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew what Sabara wanted more than anything else in the world.
She wanted him.
She wanted Niko Bartolo.
I continued to think about what Sabara had asked of me, even as I bundled in as many layers as I could.
I felt as if I’d struck a bargain with a demon. As if I’d damned myself to a lifetime of captivity. And basically I had. By not agreeing to subject Sabara on one of the other royals, I was acknowledging that I was stuck with her.
My purpose had become clear: to keep Sabara imprisoned within me.
The only hope I had of easing my burden was to come to terms with her, to learn to live—if at all possible—in accord.
I ignored the strange looks Zafir cast my way as I dressed, avoiding his questions about where I was going until the last possible moment. When I finally answered him, I was vague, saying only “Out” and hoping he didn’t press me for more.
That had been hoping for too much, of course.
“Out where?” he asked. Then, “Why?”
I smiled at him, trying to look cheerful. I even shrugged nonchalantly. A nice touch, if I did say so myself. “I thought it might be nice to stretch my legs.”
Zafir’s brows shot up. “Really? You want to go . . . for a walk? Out there? In the cold?”
I couldn’t blame him for being skeptical, considering how I’d complained on the ferry. How I’d huddled as far into my heavy cloak as possible and, still, my teeth had chattered so loudly I’d drawn attention from the other passengers. Cold and I weren’t exactly on the best of terms.
But I’d heard Niko was out there, in that ice and snow, and I had questions for him. Ones that couldn’t wait.
“Yes,” I did my best to sound chipper. “The brisk air might do us some good.”
There was no point pretending Zafir wasn’t coming too. There was no chance I’d lose him and be able to wander the grounds on my own.
Zafir’s lips pursed, a sign that he wasn’t buying my explanation. But he wasn’t arguing, either. He nodded to the two men stationed at the entrance, and they began the arduous task of turning the cranks that would open the immense doors.
Even the small space required to let us pass took several long minutes as the gears shifted and ground together. I ignored the suspicious glances shot my way by my guard.
Outside, the “brisk” air felt like a punch in the gut, and barbs of ice formed in my bloodstream, needling and stabbing every surface of my body from the inside out. Even the tiny hairs inside my nose felt as if they’d turned to ice and might break off should they shift the wrong way.
My chest seized and I had to will myself to keep breathing. My lungs felt powerless against the blast.
I raised my eyes skyward, hoping the rising sun might at least lessen the savage chill.
Walk! A voice insisted, and this time it was my own and not Sabara’s.
I took one step and then another, my boots crunching through the snow. My footprints weren’t the only ones out there. Several sets of tracks led away from the palace entrance.
I ignored the spasms of pain that came with each shallow breath I took, and I drew the warm coat closer around me. Neva’s clothing was much better suited for the climate, and I adjusted fairly quickly. My fingers were tucked inside the fur-lined gloves and my head was concealed by a hat that protected my forehead and most of my cheeks. I tugged the scarf up so it covered my mouth.
Zafir remained silent, staying behind me.
I moved quickly, making my way down the most traveled trail of prints in the ice-crusted snow. I stopped in front of a large white building that had smoke billowing from several chimneys in its roof. Leaning forward, I brushed at the sparkling crystals that covered its every surface, scraping it away with my glove and revealing the black stones beneath.
I had no idea where I was, or if I was even allowed to be there.
Inside the tall walls, I heard laughter and voices, loud and riotous, and I assumed I’d reached the gatehouse—where Brook wanted to be. The smell of ale and burnt meats reached all the way to the entrance, and I staggered backward, not sure if it was a good idea for me to be there at all.
Even if Niko was inside.
I turned away, ignoring Zafir’s curious scrutiny.
Ahead, I saw a wonderland of topiaries and statues and fountains, all glittering and covered in that same layer of frost. Everything was white. Ghostly and beautiful, beckoning me.
He’s there, Sabara told me. And I doubted she was wrong. She’d been here before. She knew this place.
She knew Niko.
When I found him, standing silently beside a patch of brilliantly flowering shrubs—brilliant red blossoms that stood out sharply against the frozen landscape, as if defying nature by their very presence—I knew he’d been waiting for me.
He looked up, but said nothing.
I turned to Zafir, silently telling him to wait.
My boots crunched loudly through the snow, the only sound now. Even the birds were still.
I stopped before Niko, and we stayed like that for too long. Quiet. Just our breath, visible puffs between us, to fill the void.
A part of me wanted to flee, knowing that I was letting her win just by being here. The other part of me couldn’t. I felt as frozen as one of the statues.