Page 48 of Where Shadows Bloom

She nodded. “I’ll continue to search there. I have tracked the Shadows for years to this place—they must be somewhere on the grounds of Le Château, and I know that the king wouldn’t dare let the Shadows inside to feast on his courtiers. I amcertaintheir origin point is in the gardens. I feel their presence with every step I take. These creatures would have been born of the Underworld itself. If I can find Shadows out there, then I can find how it is they’ve entered our world.”

The Underworld.Mother never read me stories of that place. I’d only heard whispers from the knights. That all theevil in the world came from that place. That the god that resided there, lord of all monsters, was so horrifying that a single glance from him or a word from his lips could make a grown man fall dead. That he was so unlike the gods, he must be some other kind of creature altogether. Something dark and powerful.

Creator of the Shadows.

I had avoided thinking of that place; I had hoped it a tale used to frighten naughty children into obedience.

“You think there’s some... portal, or veil, to the Underworld? Here, in the palace?” I whispered.

“Everyone here believes the gods themselves touched this palace and blessed the king,” Lope said softly. “Would it be so impossible for another god to have influenced this place?”

A shiver rushed down my back at the thought. “Please don’t speak about this. It frightens me.”

“You cannot look away from trouble forever,” she said, her voice desperate and pleading. “This involves you, too. If the king forged that letter, it means that your mother is still missing!”

Tears burned in my eyes. “No. No, that’s not the story that I want.”

She clutched my hands in hers. Looking into her eyes again, the familiar, stormy gray, I remembered her looking so sweetly at me back home. So attentively. Why did she feel so far away now?

“My lady,” she said, “seek the truth. If the king is trustworthy, then we are safe. We’re home.”

“We’re home,” I repeated. It didn’t sound quite right. Even a palace was just a hollow, heartless building if Mother wasn’t there. But when Lope said it,we’re home, like she and I were a home, the two of us—it soothed the ache in my heart, lifted it into hopefulness.

“No matter what, my lady,” said Lope, her gaze firmly locked with mine. “I will protect you with everything that I am.”

Her devotion. Her chivalry. It made my heartsing. My right hand carefully slipped out of hers, up the length of her arm, firm beneath her coat. I laid each finger delicately against her elbow. A gentle request I hope she’d understand. A question I hoped she’d answer.

When I looked up, her gaze was fixed upon my lips. My breath froze in my lungs. Her lashes were so long, like dusky shadows against her cheekbones. She bent close just a little bit. I tipped my head, and one of my curls swayed in front of my eye. Her cold fingertips tickled against my left cheek as she brushed it aside. Her every gesture was the epitome of tenderness.

A thrill rushed through me, bracing as a waterfall. So I wasn’t a fool. She must feel the same; I wasn’t overly confident to imagine that her poems had been about me—

Her shoulders squared, and with a deep breath, she steppedback from me. “So then,” she said, her voice measured, emotionless, “tomorrow we’ll split up, that we may cover more ground. I’ll investigate the gardens, and you’ll investigate the palace.”

By the names of all the faceless gods.

“Excellent plan, caballera,” I said, smoothing the front of my skirts, willing my hands not to shake. “Would you please step out for a moment? I’ll undress myself tonight.”

She bowed and marched out of the room with the rigidity of a walking suit of armor. Once the door clicked shut behind her, I whirled around, leapt onto the large bed, and screamed into the nearest pillow.

14

Ofelia

Nights at Le Château were so strange. I’d get flashes of nightmares. Eerie shadows painting the moonlit walls. A tapping on my window, only to find it to be the branch of a small tree.

No matter how frustrated she made me, I slept better when Lope was beside me. She’d keep her back to me, modestly. Her black-and-silver plait coiled against the pillow. Sometimes her breaths would quicken, and I’d wonder,What monsters does she fight, even in her dreams?During one such nightmare, I laid my hand against her arm, covered in a star-bright chemise, and her body loosened.

She was always like that. Always ready to fight.

If I found someplace beautiful, someplace peaceful to call home—would she be content with that, like I was? Or would I be asking a wolf to blunt its teeth and act like a housepet?

In the morning, her place in the bed was empty, exceptfor a small note in her writing, beautiful and scrawled,The gardens.

Perhaps if I proved to her that safety, thatpeacewas something attainable here, that she couldrest... perhaps she would be willing to stay with me. To call me hers.

I couldn’t quite picture it, Lope accompanying me to a courtly dinner or gambling with me or enthusiastically attending a ball. Even when in her loveliest dress or court suit. The smile I gave her in my daydreams didn’t fit.

My ladies-in-waiting soon appeared to dress me for the morning in linens and pale colors. They said I would be out in the garden today, where His Majesty had a surprise for me. After all of Lope’s suspicions last night, and the mere idea that he’d forge a letter from Mother—I didn’t know how to feel.

---