That isn’t me, I tell myself firmly. I don’t look like that. I have green, Vila blood. Not black. But my gaze darts involuntarily to the backs of my hands. I may not have scales, but my skin is always dry and flaking. And while I have hair, it’s pitifully thin and lank. A good yank away from falling out completely.
But if I am a Shifter as Kal says—I could change into anyone I wanted to be. I could leave Briar behind forever.
The thought is so sweet it dissolves like spun sugar on my tongue.
The Grace Laws, my mind screams. The dogs. The ones trained to sniff out Grace blood and keep them from being smuggled out of the realm.
But I am not a Grace.
* * *
—
Once dawn breaks, I’m up. The others won’t bother to rise until at least midday and Delphine can burn my schedule for all I care. Not even the kitchen staff is awake. I stuff a sack full of pastries, nick a loaf of bread and some cheese, settle Callow on my shoulder, and leave the house before anyone’s the wiser.
Brine and sea salt scrape the inside of my nose once I pass through the main gates and turn toward the black tower. Fat clouds are rolling in from the horizon, promising a downpour. It’s a gray, miserable morning, the mist so thick I could cut it with a knife. The perfect post-ball day for the nobles to laze about in their beds, nursing their wine-soaked heads with vials of Etherium and forgetting about the Dark Grace.
I will not forget.
I will not be humiliated like I was last night. Never again.
A sour taste lands on my tongue as I try, and fail, to tamp down the images from the ballroom. Arnley’s disgusted stupor. Rose’s twisted delight. I cling to another instead, as if it’s a piece of driftwood floating in a raging sea: Aurora’s moonlit face as she studied the fountain I’d muddied. Even now, the sound of her laughter skips across the waves.
Will she have a line of suitors waiting for her this morning? Another longer one tomorrow if her true love isn’t found? My blood chills at the thought of such a curse. She must have kissed most of the men in the realm by now, entirely against her will. I shake my head to clear it. The princess was an unexpected relief when I’d needed it most. But she is a royal and not my concern. If I see her again it will be at her wedding. Or her funeral.
The encroaching storm front makes the black tower even colder and gloomier than my last visit, the sea pounding against the cliff as if it has something to prove. I enter cautiously, slipping in a few places where the worn stone is covered in moldy slime. Callow squawks her complaints.
“Kal?” His name is buried under the sound of the sea and the distant rumble of thunder. The hair on my arms begins to rise.
“You came back.”
There’s a ripple to my left. Kal appears, his hair mussed and eyes bleary, as if my arrival woke him. As the darkness unspools from his frame, Callow screeches and flaps unevenly to the ground. I soothe her with a few scraps of meat.
“I did not think you would.” The shadows waft in smoky tendrils up and down his arms. Wind around his neck and burrow into his clothes.
“You said you could teach me about my power.” I keep a healthy distance between us.
“I can.” He watches Callow, who has grown bored of us and is hunting between the cracks in the stone for more snacks. “You have a kestrel?”
I’m in no mood for distractions. “What do you want for your information?” I thrust the sack in his direction. “I brought food.”
He shakes his head. “I cannot eat. The enchantment keeps me—the way that I am. And I require no payment to train you.”
Distrust flares like a match striking. Nothing is free, I’ve learned that well enough. I lower the sack, narrowing my eyes. “Why not?”
Kal stares at me. Shadows dart between the crooks of his elbows. “We are kin. And I knew your mother well. She would want you to understand your worth.”
“Would she?” I search every crevice of his face, bracing myself for the next question—one that surfaced in the dead of night and hounded me for hours. “You said she came here twenty years ago—before I was even born. That you were going to leave here with her. Are you…did you and she—”
“No, Alyce.” One corner of his mouth rises. And I can’t decide whether the feeling in my gut is relief or disappointment. “You and I are related only through our breed of magic. This enchantment prevents me from…”
My neck burns. “You don’t need to go on.”
Kal clears his throat. “Very well. Your mother discovered me just as you did. And she trained with me for the same purpose you are here now.”