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CHAPTER 39

Amber Marigold

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Amber stood in complete darkness. An emptiness that nothing in this world could possibly fill. Alone on an endless staircase, she was too far for anyone to reach. Steps echoed through the vast void. She squinted at the figure walking up to her, at the scarred hand they offered from the shadows below.

If you're too tired, let me walk for a bit, the woman said.

She glanced down at the ebony steps, glossy with something wet. Her legs felt like she had walked for years, and when she looked back, the light was right there. Only a few steps away. Yet impossible to return. The girl could barely stand as is.

Amber turned back to the shadowed woman.

How far will we go?

As far as it takes.

She woke up with dried tears on her cheeks. A blindfold of sunlight slowly cleared from her eyes and revealed her room at the Bowmen estate. Glowing specks of dust tangled between wispy white curtains. Soft material enveloped her, but it felt no different from slabs of concrete. Her throat scraped like sandpaper, and when she tried to sit up, it felt like her bones would snap.

"Whoa, take it easy," someone said and helped her into a sitting position. She winced at the searing stab in her shoulder. "Don't move your left arm. I can give you your sling if you want."

Lynch sat in the chair next to her. He was without his hat, and short curls already sprouted back up. His smile was as she remembered, eyes bright. Yet something felt off. Colder.

"How long have I been asleep?" Her voice came as a low croak.

"You've been in and out with a fever for a week now. Your temperature only went down yesterday."

"Oh." Her eyes followed the tube in her arm. It was attached to a drip next to her bed. "What... happened?"

"You almost died," someone else answered.

Further in the room, Blake and Owen sat on couches which were not there before. A game of chess between them. They got up and came over. Owen walked with a crutch, his leg in a cast, and brought a glass of water. Blake placed a hand on her brow.

"It's better," he said. "How's your head feeling?"

"Like it could split in two."

"Owen, where'd you put the pills?"

"Over there. Behind the flowers."

"Thank you."

Amber arched a brow at the cyngs. She accepted the pills and gulped them down with the water. Her throat cooled, smoothed. When she finished, Owen poured her another glass. The bruises on his face had turned yellow-green, and the cut on his nose started to scab.

"I need to know how bad it was. Is anyone else hurt?"

The boys exchanged a glance while Lynch looked away. He got up and said he would let everyone know she was awake. Blake was the first to answer, his gaze just short of meeting hers.

"The good news is that Xavier has been quiet ever since. Likely waiting to see our next move. The bad news..."

"Matt and Calvin didn't make it," Owen cut in. His head hung, and he picked at the bandages around his hands. "We're getting their ashes tomorrow, but we're unsure what to do with them. They were..." His voice strained. "Matt was my best friend. I'm a cyng, so I'm meant to get used to this, but he was alone for so long and died anyway. Maybe if I was a better leader... If I acted faster..."

Amber waited for her chest to cave. For her eyes to burn and her heart to wrench. They died during her plan after all. But nothing happened. She was as calm as a lake in the early misty morning. Submerged beneath its waters. Her brows narrowed. She promised they would be together after all this was over. She assured it would all work out. And now they were gone. They never told their friends their true feelings. And they never will. All thanks to her. The guilt alone should have cast her into a fit of sobs, but her eyes remained dry. Her chest was... empty.

We lost two, but the North lost more. With how dire things got, it could have ended much worse.

"Do we have a plan yet to deal with the North?" she asked.

The cyngs stared at her for a good second.

"We've taken a beating, and you're in no state to be up and about. We'll deal with them after we recover," Blake said.

"We can prepare in the meantime. Do we have communication with the outside yet? Are the police still active? Could we get Xavier pinned for Cal and Matt's death without exposing ourselves?"

Owen's crutch slipped, and he regained himself.

"Goldie, are you... How do you feel?"

The boys stared at her without blinking. She thought of an answer they would like but was honest instead.

"I don't feel much at all, really."

The silence was broken by the voice at the door.

"You don't feel much?" Jessica Marigold asked. She stomped over to the bed with Enrique behind. Dark circles plagued her eyes, and she wore black. "Do you know why you're alive? What it cost?"

Amber stared blankly. She had not seen the girl in months. Her jacket hung off her loosely, and her features were sharper.

"Why?"

A deep crease drew between her cousin's brows. Jessy slumped to the bed and clutched her hand, face pulled into a snarl.

"If you send a message like you did, of course, I'll come running to you, Amber. My father... We found you with a hole in your chest, and he was the one who fixed you up. But he... We were warned Xavier did not want any witnesses. Still, I didn't think... I thought it was all fine after we got out. He let us leave without a fuss. But then... The next day when I went home... I found... I..."

"Jess, you don't have to say it." Enrique was by her, a hand on her back as she shook. Tears were on the verge of spilling.

"He was strung upside down with his throat slit," she choked out. Her whole body collapsed, and she buried her head in Amber's lap. "It's my fault. If I didn't bring him... If I didn't let you go... No. Even before that, I shouldn't have let you run into Blake and Owen. This is all on me, but..." She came back up for air, face wet, and glaring straight through Amber. "But if you just listened to me in the first place... If you just fucking listened, none of this would've happened, either. I told you. I told you not to attract attention. But you had to get involved. Make plans and play hero. If you stayed out of it, none of this would've happened. No fighting, no dying. My father would still be here, and you would've been fine. No need for a hole in your chest or a blood transfusion—"

"Jessica," Blake warned.

"I just came back from the funeral," she sobbed.

Amber was still under that quiet water. Uncle Anton was dead? How did that make sense? And he died for her? At the sight of Jessy's bloodshot eyes, she sunk deeper into the bed. This was the kind of news that would break her. Her uncle was one of her favourite people ever. He always knew what to say. Always knew when not to say anything at all. And now she took him away from her cousin. Her best friend. Her sister.

Was protecting her family not the point of all this?

Stop thinking about it, she told herself. What good would it do to break down now? It already happened. Use this lesson to make sure it does not happen again.

"Just say something!" Jessy begged, her hold tightening.

A pain crept up the girl's arm, but she embraced it. She wanted nothing more than to comfort Jessy. To hold and cry with her. Beg for forgiveness and tell her she would go back. But...

"I'm sorry," was all she said.

Silence. Jessy was frozen. Her tears, sobs, and trembling came to a halt. All anyone could do was watch. Blink.

"You don't even care. Do you?" she asked.

If there was ever a time not to be honest...

"I want to."

Everyone looked at her like she was a stranger.

Jessy's lip quivered, stilled. She got up. "You're not Amber. I don't know who you are, but you're not my best friend." She took Enrique's hand. "I was leaving anyways. Enrique too. I just wanted to be here when you wake up and tell you everything myself."

"Thanks."

That single word did more damage than a pistol to the chest.

"Find me after you find yourself."

And with that, Jessy turned around and left. For good.

Amber leaned into the pillows behind her. The pressure on her shoulder felt like thick claws digging into her flesh and twisting. It was enough to make her breathless.

"We didn't know Xavier would go after your uncle, Cariño."

She closed her eyes and leaned back further.

"We know it was him?"

"Slitting throats is a Northern thing," Owen answered. "And he probably didn't want anyone to... talk."

"Jessy mentioned a blood transfusion. If I'm Sterling's cyng, does that complicate things? Do we know whose blood it was?"

"Your uncle," Blake said. "It was his."

"Oh." Her brows met briefly. "Anything else I should know?"

"No."

"Then I'd like to be alone, please."

A breeze combed through leaves outside. The chair beside her scraped, and footsteps followed by the thud of a crutch crossed the room. It stopped short from leaving.

"Take your time. If you need to talk, we're here," Blake said.

"Get better," Owen added.

The door clicked shut.

For a good while, there was nothing but the chirp of birds and the gentle whisper of leaves. She opened her eyes.

"Better?" Amber asked. "If I'm meant to get better, why am I so good at getting worse?"

Colourful flowers filled every corner of the room. She tucked her chin in and took a sniff. Her pyjamas smelled like fresh laundry, and her skin of soap and salve.

What a waste.

Jessy was right. Everyone would have been better off without her. Look where her plans got them. And still, there was too much to figure out. Was she really Sterling's heir? How long did Xavier know? What did all this mean for her now? Was she meant to rule as a cyng? How?

Even with a thousand and three questions, there was one thought, one person who remained. Amber leaned over and scanned the bedside table. She checked the drawer and got her phone and charger. Her silver chess piece lay inside, in the dark. As soon her screen came to life, messages swarmed through.

Mr President
I'm sorry I got you into this mess. I'm sorry you were born into this life. Please don't die. I don't know what I'll do if you die. I never meant for this to happen. It all got ruined.
Sent 1 week ago

Mr President
Please wake up. Everything would be for nothing if you end up dying. I know you probably want to give up, but you can't. If you die... It will all be my fault. You gave me my reason to live. How cruel would it be for you to die because of me?
Sent 6 days ago

Mr President
I've been thinking. You were so quick to give your life. Everyone else likely thinks that makes you a hero, but I know the truth. You're a coward, aren't you? I'm a coward too. That is why I can tell. You did not give your life because the person you saved was worth so much. You gave it because you did not think you were worth anything at all.
Sent 5 days ago

Amber held the phone like she had turned to stone. It felt like two enormous eyes focused on her.

Mr President
It's too unfair. How much more will things around me go wrong? Take take take. Give give give. I wish the filth of this world could disappear. Starting with Xavier Jilten. That devil just won't die.
Sent 4 days ago

Mr President
Today I was reminded of when we danced. It's been months, but I still see you in my dreams sometimes. It probably sounds like I'm in love. I've been in love, and it doesn't feel like this. What kind of feelings do you attach to the person who has inspired your dreams? Gratitude? Maybe I'm just obsessed.
Sent 3 days ago

Mr President
I want to tell you of the day we met. You deserve to know why I'm using you. At the time, I was only a messenger. Your parents announced they were open to potential marriage candidates. I was at your house to deliver my cyng's proposal for his son. While I waited, you walked up to me. It was such an insignificant encounter. You asked me why I was sad and gave me a sweet.
Sent 2 days ago

Mr President
I didn't know how much I needed someone to see me. You saw me. You were the first. You told me a person was only as good as their word and then ran off calling me a bad guy. Nobody else ever saw me for the liar I was. Not even myself. I talked to your mother that day too. She was a good person, Marigold.
Sent 2 days ago

Mr President
I never really had anything to keep me going. I was just surviving. But that day, I found something I wanted to fight for. I decided I wanted good people to live good lives. I want to make a difference in this world. Stand up to those who hurt innocents. And look what's happened. All I've done was hurt you.
Sent 2 days ago

Mr President
The worst part is, it won't be better once you wake up. If I was a decent person, I would try to find a way for you to escape this life. But I'm not. And I'll just keep doing what I do best.
Sent yesterday

Mr President
I can't tell if I want you to understand me or condemn me to hell. I don't know which is better.
08:00

She clutched the phone to her chest and closed her eyes. This was what she needed but could not express. Someone who saw her. All of her. The gold plating and the thing beneath.

"Thank you," she said.

Her phone lit up.

Mr President
I don't deserve your thanks.
12:03

"You were right. I used to... Actually, I still don't think I deserve much," she said. "So, from one undeserving soul to another, thank you. Sincerely. Thank you for seeing me. And more than that, thank you for still being here."

Mr President
I hope you'd stay for me too. But I won't blame you if you run.
12:04

"Will you reveal yourself?"

Mr President
Almost. Please understand.
12:04

"Alright. I'll keep my eyes closed until then."

Time dragged by. Cal and Matt's ashes came back, but nobody could come to an agreement on where to set them free or if they should. For the first month, Amber barely left the bed. Lynch was in charge of taking care of her. He fed her, redressed her wound, gave her medication, and through a crimson face, helped her wash up. A TV was brought in, but after seeing her aunt hold back tears on the news channel, she asked they take the screen away.

One morning, she read a book by the window, and Seane was picking flowers in the garden. Sometimes the twins joined him. All the while, Jack rarely left his room. More than once, Amber had to stop herself from wondering who Mr President was. Even if in her heart, deeper than she ever reached, she already knew.

The answer had been in front of her for a while, but like she promised, her eyes were closed. Not for their sake but for her own.

When the first snow of winter came down, she finally had enough strength to leave the house. She wandered through the gardens, watching the descending snowflakes dwindle and dance.

"You inspired to paint another landscape?" Lynch asked.

Amber stopped and reached out just as a speck of snow landed on her callused finger. It melted into a tiny tear.

"Not really," she said. "Could you help me set up some targets?"

A month turned into three. Christmas, Lynch's birthday, and New Year's came and went. During the whole winter, she practised shots while using her right hand. With a bad posture from the sling and far less scars on this hand than her left, she kept busy improving. It was more than the cyngs had to show. Though the police stopped their patrols, they had a roadblock on the only road out of town. Communication to the outside was still cut off. All in all, it meant West and East were no less stranded. They lost millions by the day.

"I'm sure my dad's keeping things afloat," Owen said one night. They sat in the pool house. Amber had her feet in the heated water while Owen was on a chair nearby with his leg still in a cast.

"Are you fine with just floating?" she asked.

"That's all I can do right now."

She swallowed the words that nearly came out. Why did it feel like her responsibility to come up with solutions? There was no reason why they could not figure things out on their own. All she needed to do was follow along and wait.

"You were such a good swimmer, though," she said instead.

Messages from Mr President became less frequent. She waited for him to reveal himself, but why did it feel like he was waiting for her? What were they waiting for? What was she meant to do?

Spring did not feel like a fresh start. It was cold, and the clouds were in no hurry to clear. The sling which saved her from pain now felt like a straight jacket. She could walk around without it, but not too long before her arm felt like it would tear off.

On the night of the 18th of March, Amber lay with her sheets tangled around her. It had already been a year since she came to Tygerwel, and tomorrow, it would be two years since she vowed never to be helpless. Her face scrunched, begging tears to come.

It did not.

When the room felt too big and too empty, she got up and walked out. Wrapped in a grey nightgown, her feet already knew where to go. Soft notes lured her until she was in the music room.

Draped in the indigo of the night, the boy and the piano spoke to each other. His fingers kept playing, even when she sat next to him. These little meetings had become frequent enough for neither to talk. Only when an hour had already passed did the boy speak.

"It's your birthday tomorrow," he said.

She nodded.

"I thought nineteen was old, but now twenty feels too young. I'm still the same pathetic kid."

Another song started. Blake missed a note.

"Amber, you've... You're not the same. You've changed."

She was too tired to shake her head.

"I used to get worked up over the paint on your clothes, but I haven't seen it in a while. It feels like my fault. I couldn't protect you back then. Fuck, I couldn't even be a proper leader. The one who got us all to work towards something was you."

"And it got people killed—"

"No, Cariño. You cannot blame the composer when a musician ruins the score. It was our incompetence that forced you to act. Now we've left you with the consequences. The guilt. And still, we've hit a wall without you. I'm split over how to feel about this. The boy in me is relieved you're stepping back. You're safe. But as a cyng, I know we can't move forward without you. I was never raised for the role, but you were. Like my brother, you were born for this."

He stopped playing and turned to her. Eyes tinfoil.

"And like my brother, you might disappear. Tell me, Amber. What is the right choice? Do I choose as a boy or as a cyng?" He leaned in, took her by the shoulders. "I'm only a puppet. Please, tell me what to do." His eyes moved to her lips.

Amber's smile held more sorrow than any tears ever could. How selfish of her. While she sulked, everyone else suffered. She never stood back to save anyone. She did it for herself.

Amber kissed the cyng on his cheek.

The next day, the girl woke up to a knock on the door. Lynch walked in with a tray of pancakes. His hair had flour in it.

"Happy birthday, Amber," he grinned. "I made these myself."

"No way," she said and happily took the tray. "I haven't had these in so long." At least half of the pancakes were complete flops. They were perfect. "Come eat with me."

Sharing breakfast, the two sat on her bed while Lynch talked about past birthdays in the West. His eyes lowered whenever he mentioned Blake. When they were done, Amber asked him to have everyone gathered downstairs.

"On it," he saluted and hurried off.

She stretched her muscles, putting special care into rolling her stiff shoulder. With the sling and bandage gone, a fresh scar marred the skin between her shoulder and heart. The pain was less, but her arm could not yet move like it used to. Getting up, she took a shower and dressed in all-black. Her phone was on her bedside table, and so was her silver king. She took both before heading out.

Halfway down the stairs, Amber stopped. Both West and East waited. Owen stood in the same coat she first saw him with. The cast on his leg was gone, and he walked over with the slightest limp.

"Happy birthday, Goldie," he said and handed over a dark green box. A silk ribbon was haphazardly wrapped around. "It's nothing special, but I thought we could train together."

Inside was a pair of boxing gloves. She hugged and thanked the cyng of the East. Next was Blake, who gave her a set of beautifully carved paintbrushes. She embraced him before he could see her face. Even the others had gifts. The twins, Lynch and Jack. Seane gifted her with a silver raincoat which she immediately pulled on.

"You're probably tired of my coats, so you've got your own now," he mumbled, waving her off when she wanted to hug him.

"None of us could bake a cake," Lynch admitted. "You can stick candles on my head if you want. Any wishes?"

Everyone waited for her answer. Amber's hands went to her pockets. Gripping the piece, she held her head a little higher.

"We've been procrastinating too long," she said. "I wish for us to go spread Cal and Matt's ashes today. Together."

When Owen and Blake smiled, their eyes both remained still.

Light grey clouds stretched far into the horizon. Atop a cliff, the salty breeze whipped at Amber's hair, and she popped her collar for a bit of protection against the chill. The waves below were as bleak as the sky. An ocean of cinder.

The walk here was not too long. They were on neutral territory, a rocky cliff-face South of where boats entered the bay. Owen and Blake stepped forward with their first kin in their hands. They looked at each other and nodded.

Ash scattered, and a gentle breeze swept what remained of Cal and Matt. It took them to the sea, to the vast world beyond. Together.

As though magic was casted, the cyngs turned to each other with wavering eyes. Owen offered his hand, and Blake took it, bringing them into half an embrace. When they pulled apart, Amber stepped past them. A small ray of sunlight broke through the clouds in the distance.

"Have I kept my promise?" she asked in a whisper.

No, she realised. If anyone had fulfilled their promise, it was them. They wanted nothing more than to bring West and East together and look what had happened. They did it. Everyone was here because of them. Not her.

The light faded again, and Amber turned around. Her hair was tousled, and her coat blew behind her.

"We've been stranded and starving. I apologise for that."

"It's not your fault, Amber."

"But I'm making it my responsibility," she declared. "It hasn't been addressed much, and I know you all did it for my sake, but I'm Sterling's heir. I hoped to be proved wrong, but to this day, we haven't heard anything from them, so it must be true. For two years now, I've been their cyng, and I have no idea what state my bloodline is in. It's time I act. It's time I fulfil my duties as a daughter."

No amount of hiding could take away the truth. Her parents were part of the Dynast. Part of crime. But they were still good people.

Right?

"Xavier is many things," she continued, "but unfortunately, he's not wrong. There's no point in staying divided. We're weaker than our enemy. And there's only one way to gain power. We must take it for ourselves."

The group looked at each other, then back at her.

"How do we do that?" Blake asked.

Amber gripped the piece in her pocket. She swallowed.

"Not 'we'," she said. "It'll be me. My first act as cyng of Sterling is to put this bet to an end."

"It was sworn in blood," Owen objected.

"Are you picking one of us?" Blake asked.

At once, everyone blanched and stood waiting.

"Your words were that the bloodline that gets the girl gets to stay. All I have to say is, 'I love you'. Correct?"

The boys looked like the breeze could blow them away.

"That's right."

"Well then..." She took out her king and rolled it in her grip. That warped reflection felt clearer than her mirror. "I love you," she whispered. Nobody said her words had to be true. When she glanced back up, even the wind had died down. "Amber Marigold belongs to Sterling. With this, I win the bet. I have claim to your bloodlines."

Their jaws were too slack to speak. She turned away from them, facing the ocean again.

"It's not a matter of whether I deserve this," she said. "Your loyalty and trust. It's a matter of moving forward. You've all walked far, but it's hard, and I get that. Let me walk now. Let me carry us. Even if it means going down a path I would've liked to avoid. I'll do it. I know I got people killed... And I know I'm maybe not who you would've chosen... But I promise on my soul that even if I'm not the best, I will do better."

Waves crashed below. Seagulls mewed.

She hesitated to turn around. To see their faces. Would they reject me? She wondered. What will I do if they refuse? Worse, what would she do if they submitted but cursed her for it?

Her grip whitened on the piece. She turned around. Even with the emptiness in her chest, her mouth still parted, and her eyes went round. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

One by one, West and East crumbled and fell to their knees. They each held a hand over their hearts.

"I pledge myself to Sterling," Jack said first. Icy eyes held her.

"I pledge myself to Sterling," everyone else echoed.

"My life is yours," Owen vowed.

"Everything is yours," Blake added.

She could not gather the words to thank them.

Was this real? The metal in her hand was real. Cold. Heavy. She stood taller.

"I promise we'll win."

When night came, and the house was quiet, Amber sat in front of her vanity in the dark. She took out her phone.

Amber
I would like to meet again
22:36

Gale Lium (Lawyer)
It's been a while. May I ask what you would like to meet for?
22:40

Amber
I think you already know
22:41

She kept her phone on the desk and stared at the mirror. The person who stared back was a stranger with her face.

"You were waiting for this, weren't you?" she asked.

Mr President
I was.
23:30

"It took me a while," she smiled half-heartedly.

Mr President
A bit longer than I would've liked.
23:30

The person in front of her tilted their head. Curious eyes, more grey than blue in the dark, studied her.

"I knew this would happen. I've known for a while. I'm not... alright. There's something wrong with me. And I don't know what it is. That day two years ago, it still haunts me. Scares me. But it's never the guns or the blood or the screams that keeps me up at night. It's this." She gestured to the mirror. "My reflection in my mother's eyes. Do you know what kind of face I had?"

Her lips faltered, and her tongue weighed heavy.

"I was smiling," she admitted. "Isn't that crazy?"

Mr President
People can have different reactions to trauma.
23:33

She turned away from the vanity.

"I told myself it was a nervous tick. And I still hope that's what it is. But even so, what kind of person does that make me?"

Mr President
You're human.
23:34

She huffed a breathy laugh and dragged herself to bed.

"Someone once told me that the worst monstersusually are."

After Amber got dressed the next day, Lynch burst into her room, out of breath. His eyes were large, and he pointed outside.

"There's two men at the gates claiming to be Sterling's kin. They're asking for their cyng."

"Two?" She frowned. "Let them in."

The boy ran back out while his new cyng finished getting ready. She tied her hair back and went to meet their guests. Halfway down the stairs, Amber stopped. Mr Lium walked through the front door. Next to him was a face she had not seen in a year.

"Amber, I see you have finally found something worth chasing," Dr Nick Elford greeted.

***