- Home
- A Darker Shade of Magic
Page 58
Page 58
In the matter of hours he’d known Lila, he’d learned that she didn’t surprise easily, but at this claim, her eyes finally went wide with disbelief. “You’re a prince?”
“No,” he said firmly.
“Like the pretty fellow in the carriage? Is he your brother?”
“His name is Rhy, and no.” Kell cringed when he said it. “Well … not exactly.”
“So you’re the black-eyed prince. I have to admit, I never took you for a—”
“I’m not a prince, Lila.”
“I suppose I can see it, you are rather arrogant and—”
“I’m not a—”
“But what’s a member of the royal family doing—”
Kell pushed her back against the brick wall of the alley. “I’m not a member of the royal family,” he snapped. “I belong to them.”
Lila’s forehead crinkled. “What do you mean?”
“They own me,” he said, cringing at the words. “I’m a possession. A trinket. So you see, I grew up in the palace, but it is not my home. I was raised by the royals, but they are not my family, not by blood. I have worth to them and so they keep me, but that is not the same as belonging.”
The words burned when he spoke them. He knew he wasn’t being fair to the king and queen, who treated him with warmth if not love, or to Rhy, who had always looked on him as a brother. But it was true, wasn’t it? As much as it pained him. For all his caring, and for theirs, the fact remained he was a weapon, a shield, a tool to be used. He was not a prince. He was not a son.
“You poor thing,” said Lila coldly, pushing him away. “What do you want? Pity? You won’t find it from me.”
Kell clenched his jaw. “I didn’t—”
“You have a house if not a home,” she spat. “You have people who care for you if not about you. You may not have everything you want, but I’d wager you have everything you could ever need, and you have the audacity to claim it all forfeit because it is not love.”
“I—”
“Love doesn’t keep us from freezing to death, Kell,” she continued, “or starving, or being knifed for the coins in our pocket. Love doesn’t buy us anything, so be glad for what you have and who you have because you may want for things but you need for nothing.”
She was breathless by the time she finished, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed.
And for the first time, Kell saw Lila. Not as she wanted to be, but as she was. A frightened, albeit clever, girl trying desperately to stay alive. One who had likely frozen and starved and fought—and almost certainly killed—to hold on to some semblance of a life, guarding it like a candle in a harsh wind.
“Say something,” she challenged.
Kell swallowed, clenched his hands into fists at his sides, and looked at her hard. “You’re right,” he said.
The admission left him strangely gutted, and in that moment, he just wanted to go home (and it was a home, far more of one than Lila probably had). To let the queen touch his cheek, and the king his shoulder. To swing his arm around Rhy’s neck and toast to his birthday and listen to him ramble and laugh.
It ached, how badly he wanted it.
But he couldn’t.
He had made a mistake. He had put them all in danger, and he had to make it right.
Because it was his duty to protect them.
And because he loved them.
Lila was still staring, waiting for the catch in his words, but there was none.
“You’re right,” he said again. “I’m sorry. Compared to your life, mine must seem a jewel—”
“Don’t you dare pity me, magic boy,” growled Lila, a knife in her hand. And just like that, the scared street rat was gone, and the cutthroat was back. Kell smiled thinly. There was no winning these battles with Lila, but he was relieved to see her back in threatening form. He broke her gaze and looked up at the sky, the red of the Isle reflecting off the low clouds. A storm was coming. Rhy would sulk at that, too, spiteful of anything that might dampen the splendor of his day.
“Come on,” said Kell, “we’re almost there.”
Lila sheathed her blade and followed, this time with fewer daggers in her eyes.
“This place we’re headed,” she said. “Does it have a name?”
“Is Kir Ayes,” said Kell. “The Ruby Fields.” He had not told Lila yet that her journey would end here. That it had to. For his peace of mind and for her safety.
“What are you hoping to find there?”
“A token,” said Kell. “Something that will grant us passage to White London.” He parsed through the shelves and drawers in his mind, the various trinkets from the various cities glittering behind his eyes. “The inn itself,” he went on, “is run by a woman named Fauna. You two should get along splendidly.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re both—”
He was about to say hard as tacks, but then he rounded the corner and came to a sharp stop, the words dying on his tongue.
“Is that the Ruby Fields?” asked Lila at his shoulder.
“It is,” said Kell quietly. “Or, it was.”
There was nothing left but ash and smoke.
The inn, and everything in it, had been burned to the ground.
IV
It had been no ordinary fire.
Ordinary fires didn’t consume metal as well as wood. And ordinary fires spread. This one hadn’t. It had traced the edges of the building and burned in a near-perfect inn-shaped blaze, only a few tendrils scorching the street stones that circled the building.