A Thousand Heartbeats

At the head table, my mother sat beside Kawan, leaning into him, her fingers coiled around the collar of his shirt. He was smiling, his face a little too close to hers, and speaking in a low tone. My stomach felt like it was falling down a hill, head over feet again and again.

I stood by the door, making eye contact with my team in turn. Inigo and Griffin were at the same table but sitting at opposite ends. Kinton—the boy who ran into the mess hall yelling when Aldrik returned—was curious about my Commission and had cornered Andre, asking questions, which worked well for the situation tonight. Sherwin was alone at a table, and, given that I’d had absolutely no idea who he was before yesterday, I had to believe that he ate alone often. Blythe was at a table with some girls, most of whom I knew by sight but not by name.

The plan was simple. I was going to go up to my mother’s quarters to steal a dress. If, for some reason, she or Kawan got up from the table, Griffin and Inigo were going to launch into a fight. Kawan wasn’t going to stop two people who were assigned to help me from injuring each other, so he’d let it drag out and would surely stay to watch. If that wasn’t enough, Blythe had also secured someone to fight with her. I didn’t know who had willingly agreed to let that girl attack them, but I was impressed by whoever it was.

Kawan and my mother were still eating, so I ran to the third floor, crossing only a handful of stragglers as they headed down to dinner. It was almost too perfect.

I pushed my mother’s door open, finding it empty, as predicted. Every time I went to her quarters it felt like stepping into a distorted memory. Once, this space held three people. The corner where my bed had been was now home to a vanity. The decor was distinctly feminine now, all traces of my father erased.

For a second, I had to stop and take a shaky breath. How had she let him go so easily? How could she live in luxury while the rest of us worked and trained for war? How could she let Kawan treat her only son the way he did?

And after those thoughts crept in, a dozen more did. Why did I have to do Kawan’s dirty work? Why was nothing ever good enough for him? Why was I assigned such a grim existence?

I hated everything. I hated this castle, I hated fate, I hated myself.

But after that moment of weakness, I resurrected the sure and steady walls I kept around my heart. It was much safer here with them in place.

Her wardrobe was in the back corner of the room, and I moved over there, making sure to disturb nothing along the way.

It was only once I opened the doors that I realized I’d made a terrible mistake: I knew nothing about what looked fashionable on a lady. And if we were going to be there for multiple days, should I take more than one dress? Was my inability to pick out a proper dress going to be our undoing?

I swallowed hard, staring. Blythe had blond hair. Yellow looked nice with blue. Or green.

Right?

I pulled one of each color, rolling them into a ball and shoving them into the bag over my shoulder. I checked the wardrobe again, making sure nothing looked out of place, and closed the doors.

I crept into the hallway, hurrying down the rickety stairs, nearly falling after I stepped on a loose stone. In my room, Thistle was there, waiting for me. She sat proudly at the foot of my bed, a dead mouse by her feet.

She must have known I was stressed. Somehow whenever I was, Thistle would show up with food. She poked her nose down to it and looked up at me.

Sighing, I walked over and picked it up. “Thank you,” I said. I pocketed the mouse because I just couldn’t bear to have her think I’d reject it. I scratched at her head.

“You’re a good girl. Look, don’t touch this,” I said, pointing to the bag. “If these get messed up, I’m in serious trouble.” I shoved the whole thing under my bed, hoping nothing got ruined in the process.

“Not that it matters,” I said. “Getting in trouble for this is the same as getting in it for anything else, and I know better than to care by now.”

I reached up, scratching her head again. “Don’t think that I care about you, either,” I warned. “I don’t.”

She kept staring at me.

“I mean it.”

She yipped at me before bounding back out the window, off to feed herself.

Sighing, I left, running back toward the mess hall. I stopped on an upper landing to throw the mouse out the window, wiping my hand on my pant leg before I entered the hall. I glanced quickly at Sherwin, who was still alone. Blythe met my eyes and quickly turned away, and Andre was now at the same table as Griffin and Inigo.

I walked up to Inigo, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “It’s done . . . but is there a chance you know anything about women’s clothes?”

He swallowed his food and looked up at me wide-eyed. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

At that, he threw his head back, laughing wildly. It was a rare sound. A lone chuckle? Maybe. But extended, unguarded laughter wasn’t something that happened in the castle often, if ever.

It was infectious, and I found myself smiling. I looked over my shoulder, and Blythe was staring at us, smiling, too.

It was strange. For a moment, the castle didn’t feel so dark.