Chapter 9: A Lesson in Poetry

"I'm the only one who won't pretend that you leaving didn't kill us."

Terrors rose through me in my sleep. I found no respite from their death, from the sight of Marin running into the night.

I saw it happening, again and again. Her scream, when they grabbed her, was cut short by a cloth pressed to her mouth. The door banged behind me as I ran out to her.

They saw me. They saw that I saw that something strange, something monstrous was taking place. And before anything could be done, to me or for Marin...they vanished into nothingness.

If only I hadn't allowed my presence to be known. If Marin was believed to be alone, my parents might have been spared.

I finally woke, an hour or so before dawn, to the rapid twit-twit-twit of a Nuthatch in a tree outside my window.

I drank the water in the glass by my bed, and then used the same glass to listen through the wall and hear the sleeping breaths of the maids in the room adjacent. I washed my face and teeth in the tepid water of the water basin and then built up the fire that had sunken down to embers during the night. The crackling flames chased away the chill. But my thoughts were all-consuming.

I could no sooner escape being Dylana than find answers to my questions. I didn't doubt that the only reason I had made it this far was due to luck, and I wasn't ready to trust my life—and Marin's—to something so fickle.

I decided to read the letter from Kitlidara, Dylana's sister, one more time, perhaps there was a hint I had missed. But the words were as hollow as the night before.

I made to throw it into the flames, when something curious caught my attention. When the firelight glowed through the paper, it showed words—another message—written behind the one which I read. I turned the letter over, the back was empty. But the paper itself was slightly thicker than normal writing paper.

Dawn greyed the sky, and I wondered if the maids had woken and were watching me. I folded the letter and placed it in my lap, yawning, and laid my head back, pretending to nap.

My mind raced with the prospects of this hidden message. Of course, it wouldn't be easy to decipher, but it would give me more than I now had.

The fire heated my body. I would do both: find a way to escape, and a way to believably be Dylana. There would come a time to choose, which course to take, and I would know what was best to do.

After a while of feigning sleep, I stretched and yawned and casually stepped towards the water basin. There, I carefully undid the thread from the edge of the hem and pulled out the small knife.

I cut a sliver of paper from the edge of the letter. I could see a hairline of space between the two sheets that had been glued together. After several attempts with my fingernail, I managed to wedge it between the two sheets, running it along the edges until they came apart.

On a thin sheet of paper, a poem was written.

The heart sleeps still

In the deep

But the lover will

Have its sheep

There is no stock for the king

Who is broken within

But put the score to test

And you will find rest

I read it, and then again, until it was committed to memory. I returned the knife to its hiding place, sewing the opening closed and then balled both the letter and poem into my fist before taking up the book of Cervi poetry I had been left last night and returning to the fire.

I let the letter roll out of my hand, into the flames.

Who was the heart? The lover? The sheep? I was presented with a riddle I had no means to solve. I was a fool to think that a hidden message meant for Dylana alone would mean anything to me.

My eyes scanned the Cervi poems as my mind recalled the one in flames. It would not do to panic.

A hart runs swift

Over valley and stream

To you, my love,

To you it comes

To the dusk of your dream

I didn't like poetry. I could never understand it. I closed the book with a snap just as the maid, Jeranine, entered the room uninvited to throw open the curtain. "Did you build the fire yourself, my lady?" she asked with a tone that was almost accusing.

"I was taught to heat my body when I'm cold," I said. "Do ladies of the north not practice self preservation?"

My remark was met with a quick smirk. If the masters weren't loved, the servants rejoiced at any mockery directed at them.

If the masters weren't loved, servants could be turned against them.

"Tell me, Jeranine, what does the word heart mean, other than the organ that beats in our chests?"

Jeranine paused in the middle of fluffing my pillows. "Hart..." she said slowly. "It's another word for stag, isn't it?"

I stayed very still so I could hide the sudden rush of excitement. "Yes... Yes, you're right. How interesting."

The heart was a hart, a stag—Lord Alik Aspertin's sigil. And he slept in the deep. The deep? A secret. Dylana's secret, known to Lord Aspertin, was dormant. So Dylana was safe from this dangerous knowledge that could unmake her. And who could the lover be?

I needed another word for lover, an animal word, one that would represent a noble house. It wouldn't be common to use such a word among the nobility, but papá always called a young man courting a "wolf".

In the central district of the north was the state of Sou, ruled by Ulumie, the leading branch of the Canid family, and their sigil was that of a grey wolf.

Lady Golia, Lord Aspertin's wife, had belonged to the Ulumie before she married.

She was likely behind Dylana's position here in the north, and Afali held no love for her.

Afali was plotting Lady Golia's murder.

"Are you alright, my lady?" asked Jeranine. She was holding the duvet in both her hands and watching me inquisitively.

"I was thinking of a poem I just read. Would you like to hear it?"

"If it pleases you, lady. "

"It's quite lovely." I opened the book of poetry. For now, I had two riddles down and only millions left.

The bed was made, a dress had been selected for me. I was sitting in the vanity adjusting the hawk mask over a fresh silk mask as miss Biluria was braiding my hair.

Afali barged into the room and immediately began pacing while wringing her hands together. "Leave! Leave us," she barked to Biluria who made no noise at all when she flew out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"We have to think of a way around this..." Afali said, almost under her breath.

I turned to watch her. "A way around what?"

Afali stopped her pacing and stared at me. She was dressed, but did not look as if her servants had properly groomed her this morning. Her golden mask sat slightly screwed to the side, her hair didn't look as if it were brushed.

"She wishes to see you. You mustn't be alarmed. We need only to find a way around it."

So, Dylana's enemy was really Lady Golia and the thought of Lord Aspertin's wife interviewing Dylana terrified Afali.

I rose to my feet and stepped up to Afali, straightening her mask and then letting my hands fall to her shoulders in a gesture that was meant to be calming.

"Why would she want to see me?" I asked.

"Why else? To torment you. She wanted you degraded. She wanted everything taken from you. If she could, Dylana, she'd have you killed." The venom in Afali's voice was deep and sharp.

"Is she going to get in the way of your plans?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"She'll try to have her way or threaten to reveal the truth about you."

I nodded slowly. Dylana would know this truth, would fear it coming out.

I had a rising suspicion that I knew what this truth was. If it was Lady Golia who hated Dylana, then it was out of jealousy. And what did she have to be jealous of? Dylana was too young and too far removed from the north to have been Lord Aspertin's lover.

But perhaps she was his daughter.

A daughter, albeit an illegitimate one, was another competition for Lady Golia's son. She would want to overpower Lord Aspertin's children from his previous union and affairs. She would want to ensure her son's future.

"I still don't understand why she would want to see me..." I said slowly, walking away from Afali. But I didunderstand. It wasn't hard to see what worried Afali. She was scared of me revealing her plans to her step-mother, scared of her own secret's safety.

"I can protect you from her, Dylana," Afali said. She was trying to sound confident, but she wasn't fooling me. "As long as you don't breath a word about it to her."

"If I see her now, Afali, she'll threaten me and perhaps do more than threaten. You aren't doing a very good job at protecting me now."

"You mustn't tell her anything," Afali hissed. "I won't be able to help you. Endure it, just until the Masquerade and you charm Lord Eloroan to come to me. She'll not be a problem by then. You know she's an outsider here, a greedy Canid wolf. The house is loyal to me. I have plans to remove the problem."

"Fine," I said, dread shivering in my voice. "She'll get nothing from me, Afali."