Monstrous (13 page)

Batu hangs his huge scaly head.
They were braver than I. Now I am alone, punishment for my cowardice.

I place a tentative hand on his snout. The rough, granite skin is oddly warm. “I do not believe you are a coward. You only did what was necessary to survive. And I am very glad you did.”

He huffs twice, then leans into my hand. I smile slowly, warmth filling my insides. I may not have a complete human family anymore, but I believe I have found a friend.

When I sneak into Bryre, I run straight to the hidden entrance to the palace. I am more convinced every day that
something strange is going on in the city—and it cannot only be because of the wizard. An empty palace, crumbling in places, with a well-maintained garden? Bizarre. Someone is here during the day and keeps the grounds. But why? And for whom? Does the council parade into the palace each day to keep up appearances for the people of the city, as Father suggests? The mystery of Bryre's palace is far stranger than anything in my fairy tales.

And the notes Ren leaves—what can they mean? Father understands some of them, but others stump even him. I want to know more.

I prowl the garden, hunting for some sign or scent of Ren. The only trace is the smell of bread clinging to the bench where I left him. I sneak inside the palace walls, but tonight not even a note awaits me.

He is gone. He must have woken up perplexed and gone on his way. Perhaps he will still stop by the fountain.

I hope I have not scared him off.

When I reach the fountain, I sit on the rim, dangling my legs in the water. One is darker skinned than the other, but I will cover it before Ren appears. If he says anything, I can always claim it is a trick of the light, or a wayward shadow. He does not need to see what I am truly made of, that I am not like the other girls who live in Bryre.

Sometimes I wish I was more like them, but then I wouldn't be able to help Father in his mission. I may look different, but I have abilities they could hardly dream of. If only what makes me special did not also set me apart. I have more in common with a dragon than I do with Bryre's girls.

“You came back.”

The warm voice from behind startles me out of the fountain with an undignified splash. I hit the ground hard, but manage to keep my wits—and tail and wings—close about me. I did not even smell his approach. I was too consumed by my circling thoughts to pay attention to what was happening in the present.

I will not make that mistake again. It could have been a dear one.

Ren holds out his hand before I can even take one full breath. I raise my eyes, and put my palm in his.

His warm, strong fingers pull me up. I do not require his assistance to stand, but I accept it more out of curiosity than anything. Is this how a boy normally treats a girl who falls off a fountain? I have a niggling feeling most girls do not fall off fountains, but I push that aside.

Ren is here. Ren is alive. Ren is warm and fascinating and he holds another rose out to me with a sheepish grin.

“I, uh, I'm not sure what happened last night. My memory is a little cloudy. I thought I saw you and gave you this, but I couldn't remember when I woke up.” He runs a hand through his hair. It is a not a gesture I have seen before, but my brain provides an answer to the mystery of its meaning. Ren is nervous. For some reason, I feel like I am soaring over the treetops even though my feet touch the ground.

I reach out with my free hand and take the rose, bringing it to my nose to breathe in the aroma. “Thank you,” I say. A creeping redness rises on my neck. He still holds my hand and I have made no move to release it. I rather enjoy
both the creeping glow and the pressure of his hand in mine.

“I'm Ren,” he says, and I do not let on that my memories of the previous evening are far less clouded than his.

“My name is Kymera,” I say. This is the first time I have introduced myself to a human. It is an odd sort of thrill, as though we have entered into some kind of secret partnership.

“Kymera,” he repeats. “I like it. It suits you.” I love the way my name rolls off his tongue. I want to hear him speak it in his warm voice a hundred times over. Not knowing how to respond, I just smile. He takes this as a positive sign.

“Something about you is so familiar, but I can't quite place it,” he says. “Are you new in Bryre?”

“I do not live in Bryre. I live outside the city.”

“I thought as much. Everyone who lives in Bryre knows not to be out after the curfew.”

“You are out after the curfew.”

He laughs. “True. And I can't tell you why, either. So I suppose I shouldn't pressure you. Wouldn't be fair, would it?” He winks and I laugh with him.

“It would not.” Yes, I like Ren very much. His warmth, his laugh, and his voice make me feel like I am floating.

He squeezes my hand. “Since you're new to our city, would you like to see something?”

“What is it?”

“Well, it won't be much of a surprise if I tell you, would it?”

I giggle. I cannot help it. “I suppose not.”

He gestures with his head toward an alleyway. “Trust me?”

I do. In spite of all Father's misgivings, I trust this boy without hesitation. Now that I have spoken to him, I am positive he cannot be in league with the wizard.

I squeeze his hand back. “Yes.”

“Keep up,” he says as he takes off at a run, pulling me with him. I keep pace effortlessly. In fact, I am faster than he is. But I do not want to outrun him. I just wish to remain here, running side by side and hand in hand with Ren through Bryre. The breeze is just the right temperature to keep us cool and the moon above provides enough light to keep us from stumbling.

As we pass buildings I do not recognize, I wonder where Ren is taking me. Should I be concerned? The buildings grow farther apart and seem more run down. Bricks tumble into weed-filled flower beds, and broken windows wink as we run by. Not a soul breathes in this section of town. Even the guards keep their distance, as far as I can tell. When he stops, I cannot help gaping. A huge gnarl of vines and thorns rises in front of us. It appears to be swallowing a building whole. And the ground. The green vines and black thorns, dotted with an occasional blossom, spread over everything in view. To my right lies a steeple; the tip still struggles to remain above the climbing vines. Plants in the shapes of small, blocky houses line the edge of what was once the road. And the street is now a nest of creeping thorns twisting together amid overturned cobblestones.

“What is it?” I ask, unable to keep the astonishment from my voice.

“It's the back of the palace and the neighborhood that
once housed most of its servants.”

I shudder. I never went that far back in the palace. I only ever saw that one hall where the roots of this plant must have been punching through the walls and floor. I did not stop to explore more for fear of neglecting my real duty.

“It is horrifying.”

Ren nods. “But here's the strange thing. It's not just any thorny plant. It's part briar patch, part creeping vine. No one has ever seen anything like it.” Ren is animated as he talks, waving his free arm about. He retains a firm grip on my hand with the other.

“Why does no one cut it back?”

“Cutting it does nothing. You trim it, and it's back doubly strong the next day. We tried burning it once, but it grew right back in three days. Three days!”

“Incredible,” I say.

“It sure is.” He leans over. “Can you keep a secret?”

My face burns with his closeness. “I can.”

“It's gotten bad enough that it's taken over the living quarters of the palace. Completely torn them apart. Even swallowed up a servant while he slept. And it creeps further into the palace every day. You can't tell from the front gates. Most people don't have a clue how rampant this is. They only know they had to evacuate this section of the city due to pests of some kind.”

This explains why the palace is empty at night. These briars are far more pervasive than I realized. They forced the king to leave and seek safety elsewhere.

“That is the secret? That this exists?”

“There's more to this”—he waves his hand at the thorny monstrosity—“than just overfed flora. There's dark magic at work. Someone wants to get to the king.”

I gasp. Ren's words leave no doubt. This must be the wizard's work. No wonder they have not been able to get rid of it.

“Who?” I ask.

“No one knows.” He shrugs, but the sparkle in his eyes reveals that he holds something back. I bet he thinks it's the wizard too. Or he really does work for the wizard and enjoys showing off his master's accomplishments. But that does not seem likely.

“How do you know all this? It is quite a story you tell.” I do my best to laugh off the question, but still hope for an answer.

He waggles a finger at me. “That I can't tell you. Not yet.”

Ren drags me back down the alleys, away from the strange, viney briars. He slows when we approach the cherub fountain again. Our fountain.

He smiles apologetically. “I must take my leave. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” I can hardly speak. I do not want him to go.

“Wonderful,” he says. He runs down the alley, glancing over his shoulder to wave as he goes.

I stand like a statue at the fountain's rim, waiting until the warm smell of just-baked bread fades from the night air.

BENEATH THE WILLOW IN THE YARD, I WATCH THE SUN RETREAT OVER
the hedge, lighting all the trees on fire. Father has been out at the markets most of the afternoon. He is always looking for more ingredients for his experiments, and he has the best luck finding them in the outlying villages and traveling markets. Despite the guilty weight of secrets, I wandered toward the river again the moment he was out of sight in the hopes I might see my dragon. I've yet to find Batu first, but he is as good as his word and he never fails to find me.

But our encounter was fleeting today, as they often are, and I was unable to convince him that Father is on our side. The only one Batu rivals in suspicions is Father himself.

Now back home in the fading light, I scour my fairy tales and other books of Father's for details about rock
dragons. While Batu answers most of my questions, an unbiased opinion might shed greater light on the mystery he poses. What I've uncovered thus far is pitiful. They prefer rocky places. They're loners. And they're presumed extinct.

When I tire of reading I collect my books and head for the tower. Soon it will be time for me to return to Bryre. I will see Ren again.
Warm
is the word that makes me think of him. It fills me up inside until I'm so full I swear I could overflow. Between Batu and Ren and Father, I almost feel like I have a whole family.

But Father would not approve. Meeting Ren every night is very bad. Leaving the safety of our cottage to seek a creature whose existence I have hidden from Father is even worse.

The worst part is I know, without question, I will do both things again. Father cannot force me to remain alone forever.

That first night with Ren, I forgot all about the child I'd killed. By the time I reached the prison, my melancholy returned in full force. I took the girl with the pinkest possible cheeks. But each night since, I've found Ren waiting with a rose at the fountain after he has delivered his messages, charming me more with every meeting.

Ren's most recent note said
Rumors of a beast in the streets. Return D to first position.
Father's brow clouded over when he heard this and I detected a hint of disappointment in his expression. I fear what they mean by a beast. That they mean me. Could the man I stung on the road during my
training remember me? Could he have seen more than I thought?

Most of all, I fear what Ren would think if he could see my many and varied parts. Would he hate me as Father suggests? My wings and tail, and the shades of my skin, are an invisible wall standing between us.

When I reach the lower level of the tower, faint sounds of crying curl down the spiral staircase. I wish I could comfort the two girls upstairs, but my presence always upsets them more than anything. Father asked me to stay away, except to give them their nightly dose of venom.

Even though their cries pinch my heart, I obey him. I must obey him about something. Between Batu and Ren, I am toeing a very fine line.

I set down the books and take the watering can into my garden to care for my roses. The reds and yellows flame in the dying light. I caress a few of the petals and coo at them. I know they appreciate the attention; they get bigger and lovelier every day.

When I catch my thumb on a thorn, the monster briar patch Ren showed me comes to mind. Strange that a plant would take over so fast. I wonder if Father has any idea about the briar or why the wizard sent it.

The sound of feet crunching over branches and leaves alerts me to Father's approach through the hedge. I run, throwing my arms around him as he enters the yard.