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  ‘Wait.’ I followed him, thinking to guide him to the door, when somebody crossed his path and sent Robbie stumbling to the floor.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  He lay there, unmoving, his face to the floor and then I realised that his mask had come undone and had slid across the ballroom.

  Hurriedly, before anyone else got to it, I snatched it from the floor and returned to Robbie’s side, where I knelt beside him and slid it over his face.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ I asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  He shook his head, the ends of his light brown hair brushing against my fingers. The two brothers whom he had said I could trust appeared at Robbie’s side and helped him to his feet before they led him out, wobbly on his feet, through the doors.

  People had started gathering, to stare, to point and to laugh. I wanted to scream at them to leave him alone; but it would garner too much attention, so I held my tongue.

  ‘Who was that?’ demanded Sylvia.

  ‘Yes, who was it?’ asked Marko, his mask drawn up and resting on the top of his head. The worry in his eyes, as he stared after Robbie, told me that he maybe already knew. ‘Is everything alright?’

  Everyone was staring at me.

  ‘A man fell…and I…helped him to his feet. That’s all.’ I got to my feet and stared down at my shaking hand. Somehow I’d ended up with a single white feather from Robbie’s suit. ‘I’m really tired,’ I said to Marko, as people started to move away from us. ‘Can we please leave now?’

  Marko nodded and, after saying our goodbyes, we left.

  ‘You seem tense. Different, somehow,’ Marko said when we reached my room. He hovered by our adjoining door, his glittering mask in his hand.

  Lauren’s words of warning bounced around against my skull. But then Robbie’s reassuring voice entered my head, much louder than Lauren’s. Marko would never have done the things Lauren had said.

  ‘I’m fine. It’s nothing.’

  He shook his head and stared down at the mask in his hand.

  ‘No. There is something. You seemed different when you returned from changing your shoes.’ His eyes moved over my feet. ‘Which you didn’t, in fact, change at all.’

  Avoiding the question, I came away from the door and started to remove my earrings.

  ‘Where did you go for so long?’

  In the dresser mirror I could see his face. The light in the room had cast a shadow across his eyes, as though he was still wearing a mask; but I didn’t need to see his face to know how he was feeling. I could hear the emotion in his voice. ‘Please tell me.’

  ‘It’s nothing, but it’s something.’ I sighed. ‘And I don’t believe any of it anyway.’

  Marko entered the room and put his mask on my dresser, beside mine.

  ‘Don’t believe what, exactly?’

  ‘Somebody said something, tonight…about you. But I didn’t believe them so it doesn’t matter.’

  I watched for his reaction, but he offered none and kept his eyes fixed on me.

  ‘Tell me what was said.’

  The lid to the jewellery box snapped shut. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  ‘They said that you had been seeing somebody, romantically, while I was gone last year.’ I shrugged and played with a pearl necklace that rested in a polished, scallop-shell dish, making tiny clinking noises. ‘I mean, it’s none of my business anyway.’ My cheeks burned. ‘And I don’t really care.’

  ‘You don’t care?’ Marko edged away from me. ‘You really don’t care?’ He shook his head and gazed across the room, looking pissed off, disappointed and then slightly amused all at once. ‘I don’t know if I should be happy or angry about that.’

  ‘So, you want me to explode in a jealous rage? Throw this book at your head?’ I pointed to the huge hardback resting on the nearby bookcase.

  Marko rubbed the back of his neck, a half-smile on his lips, and said, ‘Maybe something a little lighter; but, yes, I’d at least want a reaction of some sort. I’d like to think you would hate the idea of me being with someone else,’ he said, and paused, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides, ‘as much as I’d hate the idea of you loving another.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’ I nodded, my heart thumping crazily against my ribcage at the way he was looking at me. ‘Let’s not talk about it anymore, then.’

  ‘I’m not finished, yet,’ Marko said, coming to stand right behind me, before placing his hands on my shoulders and turning me to face him. ‘First things first: I did not see anyone after you left, even though I doubted you’d choose to return. I tried to keep busy, to forget you, but I couldn’t. You haunted me in a way. And as your eighteenth birthday loomed, I dreaded finding an empty beach. I wasn’t sure how I’d deal with the loss of you forever.’ He rested his hands back on my waist and sighed, his eyes deep and dark and soft. ‘But you chose to return.’ He shook his head. ‘There has never been anyone but you, Miranda. You have to believe me.’

  It was hard not to tilt my face, to not press my lips to his. Because, right then, kissing Marko and holding on to him as tightly as possible, was all I wanted to do. But there was more we needed to discuss, and it needed to be now.

  With willpower like iron, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before disentangling myself from Marko’s embrace.

  ‘There is something else. Somebody has been going around saying that you are doing wrong by the people of Marin and that…that you’re using me just so that you can…’ My face exploded with heat. ‘Just so you can have an heir.’

  Marko froze. Even his chest, which had been heaving, stopped moving.

  ‘I would never do that to you,’ he said, his voice quiet and low. ‘And if…’ he shook his head and sighed angrily, ‘convincing you means never touching you again, then so be it.’ He jerked away from me.

  ‘Of course I don’t believe it. You don’t have to stop touching me.’ I reached out and took his hand in mine; but he kept his head down, his eyes focusing on the fringe of the large rug at the centre of the shiny stone floor.

  ‘I shouldn’t have told you. It’s all lies anyway.’

  He finally looked at me.

  ‘Don’t be sorry.’ He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. ‘This is all my fault.’

  ‘How is people spreading lies your fault?’

  He shrugged. ‘Having Damir in the dungeons, in the castle, is a big mistake. He has grown even more powerful in here.’ He snorted and stared down at the daggers sheathed to the insides of his long, black boots. ‘I should have killed him when I had the chance.’

  ‘But maybe that’s what makes you the better king. You’re not cruel and heartless like him.’

  Marko half smiled at me, his eyes sad.

  ‘And yet Anne and many others still love him more than they love me.’

  ‘Not me.’ I gave his hand a squeeze. ‘Where is Anne now, anyway?’

  ‘She’s leaving the castle, to live in the city with her parents.’

  ‘Good.’ I nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. ‘So Anne is safe, and now Damir has no access to her. That’s one problem solved. Now we just have to find out who else is helping Damir by spreading these horrible lies about you.’

  Marko shook his head and tugged me into his arms. He buried his face in my hair, stroked my back and held me close.

  ‘Not who, Miranda,’ he sighed into my neck, ‘but how many.’

  The next morning I woke up late. I’d hardly slept the entire four days of my incarceration, so it was good to finally get some rest. I scoffed my breakfast and finished my coffee, and headed straight out to see Robbie. I couldn’t bear the thought of him on his own, nursing his injured pride, after he’d taken the trouble to come and see me at Sylvia’s party.

  But when I asked after him at the greenhouses, the old man there shook his head.

  ‘Didn’t come in today. Something about a sore leg. He’d be home, at his cottage, resting it off.’ He pointed out towards a couple of hills i
n the distance. ‘You’ll find it nestled between those hills.’ The man frowned. ‘Robert normally doesn’t get so many visitors.’

  ‘Err, thanks,’ I said, and began walking towards the cottage, wondering what the man had meant by ‘so many visitors’. Perhaps Marko had recognised Robbie at the party and had come to ask him why he’d turned up there, and perhaps to see if he was injured during the fall.

  Eventually I arrived at the base of the hills, where a cobblestone path, fringed with dark-green ferns, led me to a neat, welcoming little house with a red roof and green door.

  ‘Robbie?’ I knocked and waited. ‘It’s only me, Miranda,’ I called when he didn’t answer. Maybe he couldn’t get to the door with his bad leg.

  I jiggled the door handle, but it was locked so I knocked again. Still no response.

  The guard who had been trailing me was still chatting to the greenhouse man. I could just make out his black uniform behind me in the distance.

  ‘Robbie. Open up. I need to see you.’

  Light, quick footsteps, not those of somebody blind and injured, came to the door before it swung open.

  Bright blue eyes and long blonde hair greeted me.

  ‘Lauren?’ I stepped back. ‘What are you doing here?’

  She shrugged. ‘I moved in early. Marko organised it for me this morning.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ I glanced over her shoulder into the shadowy, dark interior of the house. ‘So where’s Robbie?’

  ‘He’s asleep.’ She stepped out and closed the door behind her. She wore a man’s shirt and lacy underwear, her legs bare and long. I was about to comment but stopped when I realised she could get around Robbie nude and he probably wouldn’t be able to tell she was naked.

  ‘Is he okay?’

  She shook her head, her brows furrowing with concern.

  ‘When I arrived this morning he was awake and sitting up at the kitchen table, fully dressed in a white angel suit with these beautiful wings on his back.’ She leaned in and lowered her voice. ‘His face was all tear-stained, as though he’d been crying the whole night. When I asked him if he was okay he tried to cover it up and mumbled something about being tired, before he hobbled off to his bedroom. He’s hurt his leg. It was awful to see him messed up like that, Randy. He looked so sad.’

  I recalled Robbie saying at the ball how he wished he could still look out for Marko and me, and then the way he’d tripped and fallen on his face.

  ‘Let me see him. I have to make sure he’s okay.’

  Lauren cut me off when I tried to step past her to the door.

  ‘No guy wants a girl to know he’s been crying. Let him sleep first and I’ll come and get you when he wakes up. He’ll feel better then, and more likely to want to talk.’

  I sighed. She was right. ‘Promise me you’ll come get me as soon as he wakes up?’

  ‘I promise.’ She waved her hands at me. ‘Now go and let him get some rest.’

  Why was she trying to get rid of me so quickly? It was weird. Something told me she was hiding something, or someone. But I decided not to press it just this once.

  ‘Look after him. I mean it. No entertaining this lover of yours while Robbie’s like this. He’s a good guy, and he doesn’t need some guard—who we don’t even know we can trust—sneaking around his house.’

  ‘Everything is fine. Robbie will be fine. Just go.’

  I headed back to the castle, fake wind swirling my hair around my head. Was a storm in Marin possible? The light crystals had been dimmed, so that the city appeared gloomy and grey, despite it still being morning. The ‘sky’ was dark enough to be a black storm above us. Marko had said himself that they tried to mimic the seasons as closely as possible to the surface. Maybe the faux storm was some kind of omen of darker days ahead for the city of Marin. I shivered and quickened my pace, racing back to the castle so that I could have a quick visit with Anne before she left to go home to her family. Though I believed Marko entirely, I wanted to know the truth from Anne, to ask her why she was spreading such awful lies, and to maybe extract from her the source of these rumours.

  Running along the corridors, I rounded a bend and bumped into Jonathan, one of the few guards Marko had mentioned that he’d trust with his life.

  He was so tall it almost hurt my neck to meet his gaze.

  ‘Hi. Have you seen Anne?’

  Sweat beads gathered across his forehead and dripped down his face. He took a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and started mopping them up.

  ‘No. I’ve been looking everywhere for her. She’s not in her room, and all her things are gone. She wasn’t supposed to leave the castle until tomorrow, because of her weakened state. I was supposed to take her home. I’ve got a funny feeling about this.’ He shrugged, his brows furrowing. ‘Anne once told me how much she liked you, and that she always felt you could be trusted. I’m worried, Miranda, Anne and I have been friends since we were babies; we grew up next door to each other.’

  By the way his cheeks blushed as red as the hair on his head, and from the concern in his eyes, I could tell Anne possibly meant more to Jonathan than just a friend.

  I glanced over my shoulder to make sure my own personal guard, who’d caught up with me on my way back to the castle, remained at a respectful distance.

  ‘Let’s find her together, then.’

  Jonathan checked over his own shoulders. ‘I’ll meet you at the doors to your room in half an hour. I have something to do first.’ His green eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell anyone of our plans; only Marko, if you have to. If one of the other guards catches wind of this, we could put Anne in more danger than she already is.’

  He waved at the other guard and said, ‘You’re dismissed now, I’ve got her.’

  The man shrugged and disappeared down the corridor.

  ‘Do you think something bad has happened?’ The thought of Grandfather Tollin’s study with the hideous instruments and disgusting book depicting a human female morphing into a mermaid sent an icy shiver down my back.

  ‘I do.’ Jonathan’s green eyes flashed with anger. ‘I found holes in her arms a few days ago. She said she’d had her blood taken.’ He shook his head and wiped more sweat from his brow. ‘I keep picturing her in pain and locked away somewhere—helpless.’

  ‘We’ll find her.’

  He nodded, without appearing convinced, and headed down the corridor.

  ‘Wait,’ I called out.

  ‘Yes?’ A vein bulged at the centre of his forehead.

  ‘And when we do, she’ll be fine.’

  Jonathan nodded and rounded the corner, muttering, ‘Let’s hope so.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  AS SOON AS I got to my room, I burst through the adjoining door to Marko’s room to tell him about Anne; but he wasn’t there.

  Great.

  I paced the floor, wondering how long I’d have to wait, and also if he’d get here before Jonathan did. I didn’t want to go looking for Anne without telling Marko first. It didn’t seem right.

  After five agonisingly long minutes, I found myself staring at the blank wall that was the secret door. If I was quick enough, I could have another look at the old drawings of Marin—at the moon that the Kraja statue raises to the sky, to make sure it was the same one in the ballroom—and then explain to Marko my crazy theory about the infertility crisis.

  I rushed to the wall, lifted my trembling hands to it, and almost dove through as it opened, crossing the dusty, cobwebbed corridor and heading straight to the room with no door. Instead of trying to see the drawings through the window, I pressed my palms against the smooth stone walls of the room and willed it to open. Marko had said he’d tried and had failed, so I didn’t expect results.

  The wall remained cool beneath my fingertips. Damn. I pressed my cheek against the stone.

  Please open; I want to help Marko. I want to help him save Marin, your beautiful city.

  Just as I was going to give up my cheek began to warm, and I raised my head to see
the stone glowing beneath my hands. Dust rained down on me. The wall trembled, and I drew my hands away just as it shot up and disappeared into the ceiling, making a raw, scraping sound that hurt my ears, and leaving behind a great, gaping doorway.

  I coughed and covered my eyes with an arm until the dust settled, and then entered the room.

  It was small: about the size of my bedroom at home. A single bed was pushed up against the wall that bore all the drawings—a normal enough room, until you saw all the levers and buttons on the other side, where some kind of control panel took up the entire wall. The buttons, made out of light crystal, glowed and pulsed eerily, as though alive. Marko was right. Kraja’s people had to have been extra-terrestrial. I was probably standing in the control room of the ship. If the wrong person got into this room and pushed one of these buttons, or pulled the wrong lever, we could all end up dead. The pressure of the water pushing against a moving ship would be enough to crush us. It was probably why there was a bed here. Somebody had guarded this room with their life.

  My guess was Kraja.

  Backing away from the panel, I turned back to the illustrations of the city on the walls. Cobwebs weaved down from the ceiling, giving the impression of the city being wrapped in a fog.

  The drawings were impressive—almost an exact replica of the real thing, the only difference being the Kraja statue. In the drawings, she held a large, white, moon-like orb in her hands, whereas currently she wielded a spear. The closer I got, the more detail I saw: the moon had tiny, flattened edges, like the surface of a dragonfly’s eye. It was exactly like the one in the ballroom.

  People, none of whom I recognised from Marin today, obviously, stood crowded around Kraja’s statue. They were dressed differently, in pale, knotted robes, and all had lean, muscled warrior bodies. One man stood out especially. He was huge, magnificently muscled, and towered over those around him. And yet he possessed a soft expression that made him seem gentle, despite his strong, angled jaw and piercing blue eyes. He’d been drawn with care, and coloured in detail, from his golden hair right down to the jewels on the hilt of the sword he kept sheathed at his waist.