Unspoken by Celia Mcmahon

Author:Celia Mcmahon [Mcmahon, Celia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Parliament House
Published: 2019-09-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 21

My dreams were riddled with dark and mischievous things, misshapen spirits, and muddled voices. At lunch, I looked at each of the people at the table, but more closely at Ashe and Lulu, imagining them dead, torn open. Visions of their faces, screaming, each more frightening than the last, flashed before my eyes. I’m going insane. I must keep calm.

I am the beast. Henry’s voice echoed in my head. This was the phrase spoken to change into monsters.

Cursed humans, pushed out of their lands and driven to exile, illness, and death. And by none other than my father. He was wrong to do such things, and I would not continue his rule of tyranny. Not ever.

Folded silk napkins. One on my lap. Silver forks on ceramic plates. My food, untouched. I waited and waited for Ashe to mention Fray, the sense of betrayal simmering. I wished I could tell him what was going on as a friend would. But he was not here to be my friend.

My mother clinked her glass, and I raised my head. “I’d like to formally apologize to you and your father, Ashe,” she said, raising two perfect eyebrows. “Such heinous jokes played on the royal family will not be tolerated.”

I choked. “Jokes?”

“Children, most likely. The wolf’s head was one commonly found in mask shops in Johan.”

I forced down a mouthful of food. “Yes, of course.”

“How lucky we are to come during such a time as the Festival of Ghosts,” said Archibald. “Will there be more frights?”

Every year at autumn time, the square in town held a Festival of Ghosts, a day when children and adults alike donned masks of monsters and demons. I’d been a few times when I was younger but had stopped going after Henry’s death. The purpose was to show the real monsters that we weren’t afraid, but I thought of it as another way for mask shops to make their coin purses a little fatter.

“I am quite sure that wolf mask will be quite popular this year,” said my mother, who cut up her potato into six pieces and ate each one slowly. “Imagine if it were a full moon. Dozens of children howling at the sky.”

My nerves rattled just thinking about it.

“Seems very interesting,” said Ashe in an uninterested voice. He glanced at me without smiling. He hushed his voice and then said, “May I speak to you privately after our meal, Izzy?”

I agreed, and less than an hour later we stood in the back gardens with the sun cloaking us. Together we strolled the paved path toward the cemetery, taking each step agonizingly slow. Time pressed upon me. Other matters needed attention, ones involving mixed potions and medicine deep under the castle.

“You wanted to speak to me?” I asked. A pair of council members strode by, and we all bowed.

“This ball thing, it’s quite—”

“Offensive,” I said. “You can say it.”

Ashe wiggled his eyebrows and laughed. “It is pretty offensive.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

He began walking again, his look a thousand years away.

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