The Half-Class by Kayvion Lewis
Chapter Forty-One
The chamber door creaked as I pulled it open. I winced. Had it always been this loud?
The hallway was still and empty. I was luckily some distance from the court’s rooms, the king, and Cass. I flushed to think about all the reasons the king would want to put my room out of earshot of everyone else’s, but it was to my benefit now.
In nothing more than my nightshift, a robe, and tattered boots, I crept through the hall. The candles were greedy with their light, casting the hallway in an eerie in-between of dancing light and shadows.
I peeked around the end of the corridor. Empty. These past days being pulled every which way through the castle left me with a decent idea of where I was going. I knew a couple ways in, a few ways out, and at least one exit that wouldn’t draw attention.
I slipped into a tiny drawing-room that had become Geane’s makeshift fitting room. Mirrors splayed like wallpaper over one side, and misplaced furniture and windows lined another. I’d spent no less than three hours of my life in this room today, letting Geane and her assistants pin me up and down with fabric. It was more than enough time to notice the spot in the corner of the room they would sometimes disappear into. I felt my way up to the thin curtain draping the corner and pushed the velvet aside. A small spiraling staircase descended into darkness. I gripped the rusty iron railing and circled down, each step whining under my boots. I couldn’t shake the thought how horrible it would be if these stairs gave way under me, and in the midst of everything, I simply tumbled down them and died right there.
Eventually, the stairs evened out into a seamstress’s workroom. Bolts of fabric, stacked like pastels in an artist’s collection, leaned against the walls in perfectly color-coordinated rows. Work desks lined up alongside each other down the center of the room as if they were trying to form one long table. At the other side of the room, half-constructed works pinned into dress forms waited to be completed.
I turned to the harboring a set of windows. Kat had once told me that any seamstress worth her while will always have a door within arm’s reach. Something about dying cloth and airing clean fabrics in the fresh air. For once, she was right about something. Tucked into an out of the way corridor, hiding just past the bottom of the staircase, was a small door.
The door didn’t even squeak as it pulled open. Cool night air swirled around me as I stepped out into it. A line of fabric ran from a hook beside the door and extended to the far side of the grass, hanging as freely as any clothesline outside any average yard. It was an unexpected touch of mundanity in the realm of luxury.
Two of the castle’s towers flanked me on both sides. But the northwest tower was on the other side. I couldn’t be seen trailing the perimeter of the castle, so I’d have to enter into the woods and circle around. But what if there were sentinels above the towers? They’d see me sneaking into the woods.
I ran my hands over my white night shift and robe. The moon hanging high in the sky and its reflective light was doing me no favors.
A deep green square of fabric seemed to call out to me from the clothesline. I yanked it free. It was almost wide enough to be a blanket. Perhaps that could function for my excuse if I were caught. I decided to go for a stroll through the woods and took this blanket to keep warm. There had to be some version of events in which that didn’t sound ridiculous.
Draped in the green fabric, I took a deep breath and paced across the grass. With each step, I braced for the call to halt or the warning arrow to pierce the grass before me. But I kept my head down and kept moving. Through the grass, then into the tree line.
In the safety of the trees, I pulled the fabric from over my head and finally looked back. I couldn’t make out any sentinels prowling about, but my eyes in the dark were perhaps not the most reliable.
I trekked through the dirt and leaves. My boots crunched across grass and fallen twigs. No less than four times did I nearly tripped over invisible roots. The forest to my right cooed and howled with danger, but it still felt more welcoming than the castle to my left. I circled almost halfway around the mammoth estate until the northwest tower was directly across from me. Opaque darkness pulsed around me. I wouldn’t risk calling out. I’d have to rely only on my unreliable eyes to find my liaison.
I turned my back on the castle and peered further into the woods. Darkness, trees, grass, roots—
Cloak, horse, person.
The figure waited, with his hood raised and hand gripping the reins of his steed. I rushed towards him, twigs snapping under my feet.
“Gilow,” I whispered. My heart clawed up my throat. The request I was about to make of him—to spare the part of the court’s life—was big. But if I presented it correctly, then maybe…
He turned around and pulled back his hood. No, not Gilow.
I stopped a few paces from him. “Luke?”
My hand clenched around the fabric falling from my shoulders. My jaw clenched. It was foolish of me to assume Gilow would come here himself. But of all the people, he sent him.
“I know you don’t want to see me,” Luke fiddled with his horse’s reins. “But I had to come. I need to explain what happened.”
Something was wrong with his face. The darkness of the forest left it in a shadow, but past that, I could tell something was off about it. Was this what guilt did to him?
A cloud, which had fallen over the moon at some point without my notice, parted. Beams of moonlight shone through the forest. The world was a little clearer, and so was Luke.
My limbs went cold.
His face, his beautiful face, was beaten into shades of blue and black. His left eye was swollen shut completely. A deep red gash cut through his bottom. His chest quivered with the inhale of breath. I imagined under his shirt was a similar picture to his face.
“For all that is...” I stammered towards him. With care, I lifted my hand to his chest and touched it, with no more weight than a feather. He shuddered and pulled back. I’d hurt him with just that little touch. “What happened to you?”
“Your prince happened.”
I dropped my hand. “No.”
Cass wouldn’t. It was impossible.
“Yes, Evie.” He cleared his throat, an action that looked to give him even more pain. “Some of his officers came to my shop last night. Told me to stay away from you, and Kat, and Jen. They said to stay away, or he would kill me.”
“No.” I shook my head. He couldn’t have. Cass would never do that. He didn’t even know Luke.
But if he did.
Would that make him angry enough to do this?
The dark circles under Cass’s eyes this morning worried me. I thought maybe he’d had an encounter with his father. But no, he’d been waiting for news about an encounter of his own. That’s what was keeping him up last night. He lied to me. What else had he lied about?
What else had I let myself believe? Perhaps that any person who grew up lavishly, whether as royalty or in the court, could care anything about people they were supposed to think of as inferior.
“Luke...” My lip trembled as I looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” I wanted to hug him, to apologize a thousand times, but I couldn’t. Touching him would only cause him pain. Cassian had taken this moment from us.
“It’s alright.” He took my hands and squeezed them. “They’re just bruises. I’ll heal. I’m the one who has to apologize. That kiss with Kat, it was a mistake. One second, she was joking about how pretty your ring would look on her finger, and the next, she was on top of me. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. It’s never happened before, and it will never happen again.”
“I believe you.” How could I not? And even if I didn’t, what was his betrayal compared to mine? He and Kat caused me heartache, but I’d caused him so much more. I let myself get blinded by the enemy. I lied about things that I’d never thought I’d lie about. And now I let one of the only people I had left suffer at my makeshift beloved’s hands. “I didn’t want any of this to happen, Luke. I really, really didn’t.”
“Nobody did, but we all knew the risks going in. Just like we knew the reward.” He glanced back through the tree line, toward the castle behind me. “It’s going to be worth it. Just a few more days, and we’ll be free.”
A few more days. And to think I’d actually been dreading the moment. Now, my emotions were set. I’d played my part so well I almost started to believe it. How could I have truly believed that I knew him? Prince Cassian, son of a monster, and a monster himself. And I let him turn me into one too. But if that’s what he made me, that’s what I would be. This final day would come, and when it did, Prince Cassian would die. I’d do it myself if I had to.
“Alright,” I said. “What does Gilow need to know?”
I snuck back through the hallway to my room with only minutes to spare. The sun hadn’t yet crawled over the trees, but the darkness of the night sky was beginning to fade as I cracked open my chamber door and slipped inside. The door clicked shut. Closing my eyes, I leaned back against it. So much to be done. So little time. So much weight.
“Evelyn.”
I jerked up from the door. Bridgette stood at the edge of my bed.
My heart hurt—it was beating so fast. “You scared me,” I laughed, “I just went out for a walk.”
“No, you didn’t. You went out to meet Gilow’s messenger.”
I froze. “Excuse me?”
“Evelyn, I know. I saw you sneak out from the seamstress’s room.” She chuckled. “I didn’t actually think you would do it. You know what could’ve happened if you got caught?”
The secret supporter was Bridgette? I kicked myself for not deducing that myself. She was as calm as the breeze revealing herself to me. My immediate fear washed away in her presence.
“I can imagine,” I said.
“Get caught, and you won’t have to. You learn a lot of things working in the palace. First and foremost, the king doesn’t take well to traitors and conspirators.”
“Believe me, I know.” I stepped forward. Her eyes stayed sharp on me. “So, you’re one of Gilow’s allies.”
She dropped her hands into the pockets of her apron. “Up until now, I considered myself nothing more than a distant supporter.”
“What changed?”
She shrugged. “Sympathy? One of the delivery boys brought in that note for you yesterday. Looked like he would break down crying right then and there if I didn’t agree to take it to you. I figured it must be really, really important to Gilow.” She raised an eyebrow. “Was it?”
“More than you know.”
Or did she know? If Bridgette was involved enough to know Gilow’s name, she must have known more than she was letting on. I’d sure as hell never seen her at a meeting, so where was she getting her information from? She’d sparked a thousand questions in me.
I crossed my arms. “Why reveal yourself to me now? You were pretty eager to run off yesterday morning.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes. “Seeing you risk instant death to running out into the woods was a bit inspiring, I suppose. If you were willing to risk that, then I thought you might be someone worth trusting.” She looked me up and down. “That, and you’re doing an awful job at subtly sneaking out. I figured you’d need some assistance.”
She ran her fingers along the fabric of my robe. I hadn’t noticed until then, but the hems of the robe and my night shift were speckled with dirt and grass. “Exactly how were you going to explain this? You ‘went for a walk’?”
“Could you think of a better excuse?”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t make yours any cleverer.” Bridgette returned her hands to her pockets. “But as an alternative, how about this: I assume you’re going to need more communication with Gilow before we head off to Ryland?”
“That’s partially true.” I squinted.
“How about, instead of you risking life and limb darting off into the woods at night, I’ll deliver whatever messages you have myself. No one’s going to care if I disappear into the woods during the night. More than a few maids and kitchen boys sneak off together under cover of darkness. Even if the guards see me, they’ll think nothing of it.”
“You would do that? For me?”
“For Gilow. And it’s only for a few more days.”
I bit my lip. She didn’t know everything. In fact, poor Bridgette must have known very little. But the question was, should I tell her? If she really was from Ryland, she might not take the imminent death of her king and prince well.
But as a supporter of Gilow, she couldn’t have any fondness for them. And if she did, there was nothing she could do about it. To reveal any association with Gilow would be a death sentence. She’d trusted me for no other reason than she thought I was worth trusting. I could at least return the sentiment.
I took a breath. “Bridgette, I think you should sit down. I’m about to tell you everything.”