Forbidden (Chapter Four)

 

Gossip thrived around the school the next morning, spreading like wildfire to every person that attended the academy. Even walking through the front doors you’d find yourself standing in the middle of a crammed corridor with colleagues chatting behind their hands to their friends in silent voices, talking about how the intruder had supposedly escaped the previous night, knocking out the guard, speaking of King Lysander’s orders to immediately hold a tribunal for this rebellious outsider. I heard this piece of news from Stephan.

I was shoving my way past everyone, feeling oddly dizzy, when I spotted Stephan and headed straight for him.

“Hi,” I whispered as I arrived, and he glanced at me momentarily with a look of distress, and then looked away.

“Did you hear?”

“Who hasn’t? Maybe even the humans have.”

He laughed dryly as we walked towards the Realms of the Earth classroom at the end of the hall.

“But... Scarlett, doesn’t this worry you?”

Did it worry me... what a question. Of course it worried me, but not for the reason he was implying. It worried me because that connection I’d felt last night when the boy’s eyes met mine was inexplicable. It made me worry, because I didn’t understand it. That overwhelming stir of emotion going on inside me had never happened before.

But my real question was how he had managed to get out of the guards’ view. Tied up, with one huge, burly man looking after him, and he knocked him unconscious and snuck out. The strangest part of it all was that he was still here. He hadn’t escaped, like most had expected. All this was adding to the headache that I’d had since last night.

“Not really,” I muttered back to Stephan, lying shrewdly.

“Scarlett, he might’ve been after you,” he replied in a quiet voice, as we passed two young girls that eyed me apprehensively.

“Well, he wasn’t, was he?” I said, ignoring the girls. “Or I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he muttered, entering the class.

“Just speaking the truth,” I mumbled, shrugging.

We entered the classroom and sat down, and Stephan spoke again once I had my book out.

“Did you hear about the trial?”

My head jerked sideways in his direction as I shot him a venomous glare. “What trial?”

His eyes widened in slight surprise. “You didn’t hear? Your father’s holding a tribunal for the intruders.”

“What? What kind of tribunal?” I asked in outrage, wringing my hands together angrily.

Stephan’s eyes were grave. “If they state their reason for breaking in, and if it was to harm you, they’ll execute them,” he whispered, as Mrs. Wright ambled into the room carrying a small brown box that looked very old.

I was frozen, my eyes focused fearfully upon Stephan’s face. “And if they don’t speak?”

I saw him swallow. “They’ll kill them.”

I dropped my hands on my lap, staring down at nothing in particular, feeling as though someone had cut out a piece of me. I felt hollow, empty, and a very horrible feeling of despair stole over me for one moment. It was over, then. Obviously they didn’t want to speak because their reason was impractical, and if they told my father, they would die. If they didn’t, they would die. Was there no hope, then?

“Scarlett, are you okay?” Stephan asked cautiously, taking in the traumatized look on my face.

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Stephan muttered, still watching my face. “You care,” he concluded.

I looked at him, biting my bottom lip, but didn’t reply.

“Why?”

I stared blankly ahead, wondering the same thing he was. Why did I care? Just because I’d seen that boy once in my dream didn’t mean anything. For all I knew he was another crazed assassin out for my blood. Something I didn’t understand was telling me otherwise. The look I’d seen on his face last night wasn’t the look of somebody that wanted to kill me. If that was the case, he would’ve done it then and there.

But what did I know? Maybe he was waiting until tonight to make another escape, to kidnap me or kill me like everyone suspected. Although, I was pretty sure they’d quadrupled the security after last night.

“I don’t know,” I finally mumbled, just as Mrs. Wright spun to face the class.

“Everyone quiet down,” she called, and silence instantly fell over the room. “Well, since we were speaking of the German Firedrake the other day, I have obtained one of its scales, which is used for very dark purposes. Of course I had permission from the head teacher before bringing it in here.

“You should all know you can’t touch this scale with your hands; it will burn you—and this is a burn that cannot be healed, and can possibly be lethal. I’ll pass the box around; you can look inside and then record your observations. Like I said, the Firedrakes’ scales are used for very dark purposes, curses and sinister potions and whatnot. I will repeat, because I am aware some of you are hard of hearing, that you must not touch the scale.”

Everyone was silent, taking in the fatal note that rung in Mrs. Wright’s voice. Every face was serious, including mine, though for a different reason. I had a pretty good feeling that everyone understood the consequences of touching the Firedrake’s scale. I’d hardly taken in what Mrs. Wright had said; I was staring miserably out the window, wondering what to do about my insensible father. Should I go see him, or talk to the intruders myself?

The thought of speaking to the boy made my stomach churn, but at the same time I wanted the opportunity to finally talk to him, to see if his voice matched the gentle boy’s in my dream, to see if he could possibly be as angelic as I’d believed.

Mrs. Wright clapped her hands together, though her expression was flat with indifference. “Okay, Luke, you may start with it,” she said, handing the box to a boy with wild black hair, who was sitting closest to her.

He peered inside as the class erupted into whispered conversations, but Stephan and I were quiet, waiting for our turn. The scale was not very interesting to look at, or so I thought from the look on my classmates faces. By the time the little brown box reached our table, I was feeling less awake than I had at the starter of class. How uplifting it was to think I still had the rest of the day to go.

I looked inside the old wooden box, whose hinges were rusted and very loose. The container felt fragile in my hands, as if it would break into pieces at any moment.

On a piece of smooth burgundy fabric sat the scale, which was about as big as my thumb, but more rounded. It was a gleaming, polished black, and though it looked rough, at the same time it looked smooth as the fabric underneath it.

“Not very interesting,” Stephan muttered, scribbling down his description of the stone.

I was still staring at it, a strange feeling coming over me, something very close to joy, but not quite. I noticed the black scale seemed to have a little green glimmer to it, and it looked almost oily.

“Scarlett, pass it on,” I heard a voice call from the next table, and looked over to see Elisa looking highly annoyed.

“Wait,” I growled, looking down at it again.

Once more, that feeling of rising joy stole over me, and I was sidetracked by it, focusing only on the scale...

“Hand it over!”

A hand grabbed at the box, tugging it away from me. I shot a glare at Elisa, grabbing the box and pulling it back.

“Stop!” I shouted at her.

She continued to pull it, and we were fighting over the box until Mrs. Wright’s stern voice interrupted us both.

“Elisa, Scarlett!”

We both let go at the same time, and the box fell to the ground, the lid separating from the box and clattering away, the scale dropping out of the box and onto the ground. Furiously I dived for it, not wanting anything to happen to the scale, knowing if there was the slightest crack that my elation would vanish.

“Scarlett!”

Mrs. Wright’s voice cautioned me a second too late—I’d picked up the scale and was turning it over in my hands by the time she reached my table. I took a big sigh of relief when I realized it was unscathed.

Stephan was staring at me in shock, Elisa was gaping, and Mrs. Wright looked hideously outraged.

“Drop it!” Mrs. Wright yelled at me, as the rest of the class turned their attention to me and their jaws dropped as well.

“Why?” I asked in perplexity.

She stared at my hands, her gaze a mixture of disbelief with downright fright.

“Scarlett, you’re not supposed to touch it,” Stephan whispered, his tone blank with disclosure. “It’ll burn you.”

“It’s not burning me,” I muttered, looking at my hands. They looked perfectly normal.

Silence pierced the air, and everyone was either gaping at me or at the scale in my hand, and some people looked frustrated, like they were waiting for some action.

“Put it back in the box,” Mrs. Wright said dully after clearing her throat.

I picked up the bottom part of the box and set it in there, feeling my face redden with everyone’s gaze focused vehemently on my face. Mrs. Wright grabbed my hand after I’d given her the box, turning it over, her expression now irately confused that there was no sign of damage on my fingers or palm.

“Can I touch it?” asked Timothy Floros from across the room, referring to the scale, of course.

Some people laughed. Surprisingly, Mrs. Wright didn’t retort rudely, just glared down at the scale in the box, looking thoughtful.

“No, I don’t suggest that. It seems Scarlett is... prone.”

Stephan’s eyebrows pushed together with a look of incomprehension. “Prone?”

“She is not affected by the scale.”

I stared at her blankly, wondering if I should be glad or afraid. “So?” I asked.

“So?” Mrs. Wright repeated incredulously, her eyebrows rising up into her hair. “This scale is used for the darkest arts, Miss Castillo. Only one other race of beings is impervious to this its baleful power.”

“Who?” Stephan piped up, when the room went tense and quiet again.

“Demons.”

I swallowed the thick lump that had risen in my throat, unable to speak, and stared at my feet. I still couldn’t take in what she was saying, because it didn’t make any sense.

“Well, it probably doesn’t mean anything,” Mrs. Wright said reproachfully, striding back towards her desk. “Just proves what we already know; that Miss Castillo is more powerful than the common teenager.”

I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t, not with every stare in the room on me, with everyone glaring at me like I was a freak. I knew I had stronger powers, but it didn’t explain why that sense of happiness had come over me over the scale of one of the deadliest dragons known.

 

*   *   *

After that, the students were uptight and still. Nobody spoke until we were dismissed, and I quickly ran from the room with Stephan, hoping I didn’t run into Elisa, who had taken what had happened too seriously.

School ran by in a blur. I continued to contemplate whether or not to visit my father and the intruders this afternoon during my lessons. I preferred not to share this with Stephan, knowing that if I did go, it was something I needed to do alone. My classes were as dull and long as ever, and even finally passing Archery couldn’t lighten my mood. I told Stephan I was off to the castle after classes, and when he asked if I wanted him to come along I told him my father had something for me to do, which was partly true: I had another committee meeting with Margaret about the ball this evening, but first I was making a quick visit.

I found myself walking alone and glum towards the castle. The sky today was a tedious dreary gray, matching my current mood. The grass and trees looked bland against the overcast sky; the castle, normally grand and luxurious, looked meek and humble.

I dropped my things off in my room, running only into Lydia, whom I ran past quickly. I made it down to the first floor and headed outside, towards the trapdoor at the side of the castle which led down to the dungeons. Craning it open and sliding inside, I became aware of the thick smell of gasoline, and saw orange torches lighting the way down the hall. I had a pretty good idea where they were keeping him; I’d spoken to one of the guards on the way here.

Unable to contain my eagerness, I broke into a run down the hall, sprinting past the many jail cells, few of which held actual prisoners, and made it to a room with a thick door. A tall, heavily built guard very similar to the others was standing in front of it. There was an ugly brown bruise on his forehead, and he had very crooked teeth.

He looked startled once I approached him.

“Princess! What’re you doing here?”

“Here to see the intruders,” I said shortly, glancing over his shoulder, heart thumping fast.

“I’m sorry, but your father—”

“My father gave me permission to be here,” I lied smoothly.

One of his eyebrows arched. “He did?”

“Yes. He wants me to see if I can get them to say anything.”

He looked doubtful, and for a moment I wondered if he would let me through. But nobody refused an order from Princess Scarlett, so he obediently moved aside, unlocking the many chains and locks that bound the door shut. He swung the door open, and a stuffy smell I couldn’t describe wafted to where I was.

“Be very careful,” he said in a low rumbling voice as I passed him.

I nodded firmly. I stepped into the room, my heart thudding harder than it ever had before.

At first glance around the room, it appeared empty. I wrinkled my nose in distaste at the sight of the filthy, soiled place. There were flaming orange torches hung on the wall, the room was made of stone, there were pools of black water in some corners, rats or mice, and the ceiling looked unstable. But as I looked around, I spotted three guards standing in front of one of the many cells in the back of the room, which had of metal bars surrounding it entirely. The guards had been conversing before I’d entered; now they stopped dead and looked my way, surprised.

“Princess Scarlett?” asked one of them, who were smaller and stockier than the others.

They were all blocking the two trespassers inside the cell, but I was afraid to crane my head to look over. I was able to speak, though it took a lot of effort.

“I’m here on my father’s orders,” I said, my throat dry, my heart pounding a mile a minute.

They all still looked thoroughly confused, but I ignored that and tried to see over their shoulders. I heard someone shuffling on the other side, and momentarily I saw a head pop up at one of the guard’s shoulders.

It was the boy, looking not entirely comparable to how I’d seen him in my dream. Still devastatingly handsome, with that ink black hair that was tousled and almost in his eyes, which were that dazzling shade of dark, jewel blue. He had the same smooth skin, and though his face was dirty, I could definitely see the same sharp bone structure, the sensual shape of his lips, the thick lashes bordering his luminous eyes. He wore a stained white t-shirt and torn jeans, and had the same lean and muscular build. His hands were tied behind his back.

I opened my mouth to say something but the guards didn’t seem to be paying attention; they were all discussing why King Lysander would let the prey near the predator, especially when the prey was his own daughter.

“Are you sure, Princess?” one of them asked me.

I tore my eyes from the boy, who wore an intense and unrecognizable look on his face. The expression looked too cold for his features.

“Yes,” I said, after clearing my throat and looking away from the boy. “Can I have a moment alone—to speak to them?” I whispered to the nearest man, and he nodded tightly.

“Alright, but we’ll have to leave Spencer behind, by the door, just in case.” He nodded towards another thickset man with a fat mustache.

I nodded, glancing back at the boy, who was looking avidly at me, intensely, with hardness to his gaze.

Two of the guards departed, and one stayed by the door. I waited until the door slammed shut, still staring at the boy, while he continued to stare back at me. Like in my dream, he was taller than me and looked around nineteen.

I took a deep breath. I could feel the guard over my shoulder watching me wearily, expecting the boy to pounce at any moment, though metal bars separated him from me.

“Alright,” I sighed, looking away from his eyes because it made it almost impossible to speak. “Who are you?”

He didn’t respond, so I looked up. He looked frustrated, the way Stephan sometimes looked when things didn’t make sense.

“Who is it?” called another voice, which sounded almost sleepy, and I looked down to see a young boy maybe around eleven or twelve. He looked shockingly like the boy in front of me, and was clearly his brother. He had the same alluring dark blue eyes, though his hair was a dark brown and very curly. He had the same color to his skin and was tall, at least for a kid.

His eyes widened when he saw me, and he gaped wordlessly, at a loss for words.

I looked up at his brother, my heart still beating excessively. “Are you going to answer my question?”

He pursed his lips. “Maybe.”

I wasn’t sure why, but I was surprised to hear his voice sounded exactly the way I’d heard it before. But there was a distinct difference between him and the boy in my dream, and that was in my dream, he looked gentle and compassionate, and now, finally standing before me, he looked rigid, tense, and his eyes were more flames than jewels.

“Who are you?” I replied, angry now. I could feel the guard tense behind my back as the boy shifted forward, so our faces were inches apart, though the metal bars still separated us.

“And why should I tell you?” he asked in a low voice.

I took a step back.

“Because you’re the princess? Because everyone follows your orders?” he demanded angrily, eyes flaming, handsome features lit up by a nearby torch, which let off a tawny glow.

Blood rushed to my face. I took a step forward, irritated. “Because they’ll cut your necks off if you don’t.”

We faced each other for a few seconds, our angry gazes burning into each other’s, until the boy’s brother spoke from behind.

“Well, tell her.”

I smirked slightly, not able to help myself.

The boy facing me scowled, shooting a glare at his younger brother, who just shrugged, looking almost smug.

He glanced back at me. “I’m Jack Harris. My brother’s Damon. Now tell me, does that help you at all?”

“It’s a start,” I sighed, looking down to avoid his gaze, and thinking hard.

I saw him move out of the corner of my eye, off to sit at a bench in the corner, his back against the rails. Damon continued to stare at me, like most others did, and I found it annoying.

“Why are you here?” I asked Jack, and he glanced up at me wearily; he’d been staring angrily at the floor.

“Question of the year,” he muttered.

“Well... how do you know who I am?” I said.

“Everybody knows about you,” he said gravely, “where I’m from.” Jack swallowed, like he was trying hard not to say something.

“And where is that?”

“None of your business,” he snapped.

I sighed again. “You know they’ll kill you if you don’t tell me.”

“What?” asked Damon, his eyes widening slightly. Jack, however, stayed silent in the corner, staring at the stone floor, looking deep in thought. He didn’t speak for what seemed like hours, though it was only one minute. His mouth was a thin line; his eyes were hard.

He finally looked up at me, and my heart gave a distinct lurch. I gripped the metal bars, hoping he would answer.

“I’m from Erinia,” he said, his tone strained.

My eyes narrowed. Erinia was once in the league with Zakynthos.

“Erinia?” I finally said after a long minute of silence.

“Yes.”

“And why didn’t you tell anyone? What could be so important you’d want to keep it to yourself?” I crossed my arms over my chest, raising one brow.

Jack’s jaw tightened, his eyes blazing. “You’d assume we were with Zakynthos.”

I nodded, considering. “That would’ve been everyone’s first theory,” I agreed. “And you’re not with Zakynthos?”

He stood, facing me again, the torchlight gleaming over his ink black hair. “I pretended to be.”

My eyebrows went up in surprise.

“I don’t like it there,” he said flatly, in a bored tone. “I never did. They needed someone to go on a mission, and I asked to be chosen, so I could get away from there. In a couple months’ time they would suppose I’ve failed.”

“And what was that mission?”

“To steal back the Firedrake scale.”

My eyes narrowed. “To steal back?”

He smiled coldly, flashing a set of white teeth that sparkled in the dimness. “You didn’t think your little townsfolk were all innocent, did you?”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my temper. “We did not steal—”

“Well, that’s not my point anyway,” he interrupted calmly. “I’m here because my mother told me to come here. She said I was better off here than in Erinia. Most of the Erinians are still with Zakynthos. It’s a dark place,” Jack said forebodingly. “People are treated like animals. My mother didn’t want that life for my brother and I.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip, feeling a little pitiful for him. “And why didn’t she come with you?” I asked dully.

“Because they would know we were planning to escape if she came. I got the mission and stole my brother along. He’s not old enough to work yet, so they wouldn’t notice he was gone.”

“But why did you break into the castle?”

He looked away, swallowing, down at the ground. His eyes were somber; it made me feel incredibly guilty, though I hadn’t done anything.

“To ask for help,” he finally replied, looking paler.

“I still don’t understand,” I murmured. “If you wanted to ask for help...”

“None of the villagers would let us in. We needed a place to live. And if this is it, so be it. It’s shelter, and they’re feeding us—somewhat. It’s better than my home by far.”

We were silent for a moment. I stared at the torch with pursed lips, while I felt Jack staring hard at me, Damon doing the same.

“Okay,” I said quietly, “so you pretended to be here for an ominous purpose so they would keep you here longer. But do you know what you’ve gotten yourselves into?” I asked sternly. “My father’s planning to kill you if you don’t tell them why you’re here. They’ll give you a home if you tell them.”

He looked stiffly down at me. “They’ll be suspicious.”

“I’ll convince them.”

He stared at me, eyes raking over my face, lingering on my hair, my lips. There was an expression I didn’t understand on his face.

“Okay,” he said.

“You’re going to help us?” Damon asked, looking startled.

“Sure, why not?” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “You have nowhere to live, right? You should’ve been smarter than to land yourselves in prison, though, I might say.”

“I don’t disagree with you there,” Jack muttered, “but I’ve learned not to trust people. I don’t know how Messenia works.”

“Messenia is extremely different from Erinia—and Zakynthos.”

He shrugged. “Not all people are gracious and merciful, as you all think.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know you have a Hearing tomorrow?”

Jack’s eyes tightened. “A Hearing?”

“Yes. I’m about to go ask my father if I can be there,” I decided.

“To ask?” A mocking look came into his eyes. “You’re a princess, and you have to ask permission?”

“My father’s not very... flexible,” I muttered grimly.

He half-smiled, and my heart sped up in response. “Alright, well... good luck with that.”

He sat down at the stone bench again. Damon was still standing, staring at me as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Something dawned on me.

“You guys aren’t... lying, right?” I asked Jack hesitantly.

Jack’s tone was hard. “No. It’d be a pretty sick thing to lie about, wouldn’t it?”

I searched his face for guilt or remorse, but I couldn’t find a trace of it.

“Are you going to say thank you?” I asked after a long, tense moment of silence.

“For what?”

My eyes narrowed. “For trying to convince my father.”

Jack pursed his lips. “I don’t know if I can trust you yet.”

I nodded, a little stung.

“Do you have a sister?” Damon asked me, a different look crossing his face.

“Yes,” I said cautiously, eyes flickering between the two brothers.

“She was here,” Jack said coldly.

My eyes widened. “What?”

“She was. I might say, though, you’re a bit more... civil, than her,” Jack replied.

“What was she doing here? What did she say?” I demanded angrily, my hands balling into fists.

“She called us ‘insolent b******s.’” Jack smirked, as if the insult was high humorous.

I shook my head irately. “And I can’t come down here, but of course the beautiful Lydia can...”

“You don’t seem to like your sister,” Damon said.

“You won’t either, once you get to know her,” I replied acidly.

“I already set off on the wrong foot with her,” Jack sighed in mock disappointment. “What a shame. And to think I was dying for her autograph.”

I rolled my eyes, my anger lessening slightly at Jack’s use of sarcasm.

I sighed. “Well, I’ll see what I can do,” I murmured quietly, thinking of how tense I’d felt before coming in here, and how relaxed I was now. “My father’s always very stubborn, but I think I’ll be able to convince him... maybe.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully, dropping his stare to gaze at a scuttling rat that was making its way across his dingy cell. His hair covered his eyes so I couldn’t see what his expression was.

“Umm... Thanks,” he muttered, looking uncomfortable. Damon stayed silent, still staring at me.

I let out my breath, heart pounding. I turned from the cell and walked towards the door, noticing the guard wasn’t at the door. Even as I walked down the dim, torch-lit hall, Jack and his brother were still on my mind.