The guard’s fear of the boy, of Castian, lingers in my heart, and so I stay where I am, watching him breathe. “I do not believe I ever will be. I beg your pardon for my impropriety, miss.”
He’s never spoken to me this softly or this long. Though the anger he felt settles on me like a blanket infested with ants, I want to tell him that I feel the same. That I understand feeling as if you’ll never be whole again. But we go back to being strangers, shadows sailing past each other in a dark that will swallow us both whole.
I shut the door and lock it behind me. Hector’s memories fill my mind. There is so much hate and anger there. The only time it vanished was when he saw Davida. After all this time, he still loves her. The way she touched Hector tells me that she feels the same. At least she did, in that moment. How much time has to pass before love fades? Will I forget Dez in five years? Ten? Or will I be like Hector and dull my senses with drink and nurture my sorrow?
My eyes feel too big, swollen. My heart seizes as if I’m having an attack. I go to the basin and splash water on my face. I jump into the bed and crawl under the covers with my head pulsing so much it feels like there’s a creature in there trying to break out. A memory slips from the Gray. It repeats over and over.
A set of silver dice rolling across a wooden floor.
Dez’s voice shouting, “Come on, we have to hurry!”
But I never catch up.
That’s not how our escape from the capital was supposed to go. We rode on horses. Does this mean I’m dreaming? I’m not supposed to dream, I think. But when I turn into a bird and take flight all the way to the San Cristóbal ruins, I know that something has gone wrong in my mind. Perhaps I’m finally breaking. Perhaps I’ve taken one memory too many.
Then I realize what kind of bird I have turned into: a magpie. And I’m eating out of Davida’s palm.
When I start awake, I know who Illan’s spy is.
Chapter 20
I tell Leo I’ll be down in the kitchens to make myself useful for the festival preparations. I’ve seen Davida a few times since the first day in the courtyard, helping the majordomas cook and feed the lavanderas. She’s been at the palace for decades. She’s watched Castian grow up. She’s got access to all the levels of the household, even the prince himself.
In Hector’s memory, he and Castian were the only ones who noticed her. But there was something about her touch that was familiar. Hector had a respite from his rage. Not just because he saw Davida. I call the memory forward and sink into the calm he felt. I’ve felt that way before—when Sayida and Dez used their magics on me. It was like being able to come up for air while drowning.
By the time I get down to the lower level, I am sure of myself. Who else but a Persuári living in the palace might have access to information worth smuggling to Illan? She was feeding black birds while she kept a watchful eye on Castian. My heart races like their wings. Wings that had single white feathers. Magpies. What better spy could Illan have asked for than someone like Davida?
I find her in the empty kitchen, eating her meal alone in one of the storage closets atop crates of jars.
“Davida?” I knock on the wooden door. The scent of baking bread fills the air.
She glances up with pale brown eyes. Honey eyes. Dez. They are nearly the same shade as his, and I have to brace myself against the doorframe for balance. Remind myself of why I need her.
“Do you remember me?” I ask.
Davida nods and pats the seat beside her.
“I’ve come to ask for your help.”
Everything about her is gray. Her washed-out skin, her hair, her clothes. All except the red scar on her lips and the faded one on her throat. But her eyes are still a bit fierce, angry. I can use that. In exchange for her help, perhaps there is something I can do for her, too.
Davida presses her lips together and turns her head. I recognize the sign for What? I don’t understand.
I cannot deceive this woman, and I cannot wrench a memory from her the