My breath shortens. In my mind I’m already at Lucien’s Last Flight, watching his body burn, as my lungs fill with acrid smoke. I slump forward, gasping –
The gold Protector’s ring on my forefinger scrapes against the stone floor. I never asked for this – I don’t want any of it. Rage burns my throat and I scream as I try to rip the ring from my finger.
It won’t come off. I tug until the surrounding skin is sore and slick with blood. But the gold band doesn’t budge. A trickle of scarlet runs down the back of my hand and I lift my finger to my mouth, sucking the torn flesh, the carved crest of Atratys beneath my tongue.
My Atratys. And Lucien’s Atratys, and Letya’s.
It does not belong to Siegfried. And if it is within my power, it never will.
I force myself to my feet and let my breathing slow, steadying myself against the wall. The fury I felt a moment ago is still there. But it’s cooling now, hardening into something strong and sharp.
Siegfried hasn’t won this game yet. And it’s my move.
In my apartment, I ring for Letya as the castle bell begins tolling. Something to do with the king’s death, I assume. Though without Lucien, I don’t know the exact significance or what we are supposed to do.
Letya arrives. Somehow she already knows what has happened: her eyes are wet with tears.
‘Oh, Aderyn …’
‘We need to be brave, Letya, if we’re to save Lucien. And clever. I want you to go and find out what is happening in the Citadel, and what that bell means.’
She nods. ‘Yes, of course. But –’ she opens the door to the bedroom – ‘if your uncle really is dead, you ought to be wearing black.’
While I change, she hurries away to gather what news she can. It doesn’t take her long. She tells me that the bell is to mark the start of the seven days of deep mourning. Conveniently, the king has died – or at least his death has been announced – just in time for Odette’s wedding not to have to be delayed, though the celebrations will be curtailed. The king’s body is being taken to the sanctuary to lie in state, and his Last Flight will be on the morning of the seventh day. And that evening Odette and I and the other maidens are to fly to the sacred lake. If I’m still alive, and at liberty. If Siegfried gives me the potion that makes me transform.
I ask Letya to return later; I will need to write notes to every member of Convocation and beg them to meet with me, hope I have not yet been tarred with the brush of treason. But first, I have to try to see Lucien.
My clerk’s room has been locked, and there’s a guard standing in front of it. There’s no sign of Turik. The guard tells me Lucien has been taken down to the dungeons. I order him to show me the way, and although he doesn’t want to – he mutters unhappily about leaving his post – he doesn’t dare refuse a direct request from a Protector. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help. When we reach the dungeon, I am refused admission. The captain tells me that Lucien is forbidden visitors, by order of the queen. I have nothing to do but go away again.
Instead of returning to my apartment, I make my way to my cousins’ rooms. The guards at Odette’s doors say she has asked not to be disturbed. Possibly true, but now I seem to detect Siegfried’s malignancy in everything. Unless Odette believes the lies that are being spread about Lucien. At least there are no guards at Aron’s door. Not that there ever have been, to my knowledge; a symptom of his ‘irrelevance’, I suppose.
Aron opens the door to me himself. He is wearing black, but since he usually does, that does not tell me how he is feeling.
‘I’m sorry for your loss, cousin.’
‘Thank you.’
This morning’s mist has solidified into leaden clouds and heavy rain. Aron pours me a glass of wine and holds it out to me; the candlelight in the darkened room gleams through the crystal, throwing crimson shadows onto my cousin’s face. ‘The queen – and her doctors – would not allow us to see the body.’ I understand him. We both suspect that my uncle has been dead for more than a few hours. ‘By the way, I took your advice.’ He gestures to a litter of paper spread across a large table.
‘My advice?
‘Yes. The first evening we spent together. You asked whether my father had thought about challenging the Decrees. He hadn’t, but I am. I’ve been studying them. I’ve not found anything useful so far, but …’
‘I hope you do. And soon. Have you heard about Lucien?’
He nods. ‘Did you know that his servant betrayed him? He found a notebook in Lucien’s room. Lucien has allegedly been investigating poisons. The servant passed the book to the captain of the guard.’
Turik, a traitor? I shiver as I remember his distress last night. The distress of someone about to commit an act of betrayal. And I had allowed Lucien to take the book of poisons back to his room, to protect me.
‘Lucien didn’t poison your father, cousin – I swear that this has nothing to do with him. That book belonged to my father. He produced the poison, I admit it. But Siegfried administered it. Siegfried, and his half-sister. Your stepmother. I only found out yesterday.’
For the first time I can remember, Aron appears stunned by my revelations. ‘The queen, Siegfried’s sister? Impossible. I know who her parents are.’
‘Her mother was Aurik of Olorys’s mistress.’
He stares at me for a moment. Forces a laugh. ‘How very clear-sighted of me. I know I blamed the queen for my father’s illness, but really, I had no idea –’ His slender fingers curl around the stem of his glass and he smashes it into the fire, sending up a sheet of flame. ‘By the Creator! How long have those bastards in Olorys been planning this?’
I wish I could answer him. ‘Atratys will stay loyal to the crown. And Lancorphys –’
‘It hardly matters, if the crown is on Siegfried’s head!’ He snatches up his sword and strides towards the door. ‘By the Firebird, I’ll hack that head from his shoulders before I see him seated on the throne.’
‘Aron, wait –’
He swings the sword round and levels it at me. I drop my glass, step back – but there’s a sofa blocking my way.
‘Why should I wait, Aderyn? Is your concern for me? Or for Siegfried?’
‘For you, obviously.’
‘Obviously?’ Aron moves forward until the tip of his blade is touching my neck. His grip on the sword is unwavering. ‘You really expect me to believe that your father was involved in this plot and yet you knew nothing?’
‘I swear, Aron …’ My throat is so dry I have to swallow, and the sharp point of the blade pricks my skin. ‘I swear, he kept it all a secret. From me, from Lucien. Think about it: why would I be here now if I was working with Siegfried? Why would I have told you any of this?’
Aron is scowling at me, breathing hard. He draws his arm back and I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the sword thrust into my neck –
There’s a thud. The sword is lying on the floor. Gripping the sofa for support, I lean back against it. Wait for my heart rate to subside.
‘I didn’t like him.’ My cousin’s voice is strained, as if he’s trying not to cry. ‘I hated him, a lot of the time. But he was still my father. And now …’ He rubs his hand across his face, and when he looks back at me his green eyes are wet with tears. ‘I’ve hurt you.’ He steps closer and brushes his fingertips against my neck; they come away red with blood. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘A scratch. It’ll heal.’
‘Can you forgive me?’
I manage a small smile. ‘I’ll consider it. I loved my father too, and yet the things that I’ve learned about him …’ I push away the image of my father that forms in my head: him in his laboratory, concocting poisons; it hurts too much. Instead I focus on Lucien in the dungeon, and Odette locked in her tower. ‘I’ve just as much to lose as you if we don’t stop Siegfried. And at least now we have some evidence.’ I tell my cousin about my father’s letters to Siegfried, and how I was planning to send Lucien back to Merl to search for the letters Siegfried must have sent to my father.
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‘Do you think they still exist?’
‘I believe so.’ My father never threw anything away. And his private papers are largely untouched. ‘Send someone to Atratys. Someone you trust. With my steward’s help they might be able to find the letters.’
‘Very well. What else?’
‘Shall I summon Convocation? It is my right, as a Protector.’
Aron rubs his chin. ‘Not yet. If we move without sufficient evidence, and give Siegfried an opportunity to weaken our claims, we risk losing everything.’
‘What about Lucien?’ My breath catches in my chest as I say his name.
‘Leave it to me. I have friends among the Dark Guards; I’ve trained with them a little since losing my arm, and they accepted me when my own kind would not. I won’t be able to get Lucien out. But if I can get you in to see him, I will.’
I suppose I will have to be satisfied with that.
For the next two days, I wait. Odette still hasn’t emerged from her seclusion in the tower. I know that she must be there unwillingly, because Aron has also been denied admittance. Whatever her doubts about my loyalty, Odette would never separate herself from her brother by choice. At least during the deep mourning there are no court assemblies. No need for me to see Siegfried or the queen, no requirement for me to be civil. Instead, I keep to my rooms, while Letya tries to distract me. When she isn’t with me, Letya roams the castle searching for Turik. But there is no sign of him. Finally, late at night on the third day after I went to see him, Aron comes to my apartment.
‘I’ve arranged for you to see Lucien. But it has to be now. Someone I know is in charge of this shift, down in the dungeons. He’ll let you in.’
‘Thank you.’ I kiss my cousin on the cheek. ‘This means a lot to me.’
Aron waits, staring out of the window into the night, as I fasten a cloak over my nightgown and put on some shoes. We take a circuitous route down to the dungeons, going outside the Citadel at one point. When we arrive, the guards at the main entrance open the gates to us without saying anything. Inside is another guard with a torch; still in silence, we follow him.
‘They’re going to pretend we’re not here,’ Aron murmurs. ‘Don’t try to talk to any of them.’
There are torches in brackets spaced out along the walls, but they do little to disperse the gloom. The air smells bad: a combination of too much dirt and too little ventilation, I suppose. We seem to walk for a long time, and I wonder whether the dungeons are built out from the castle, whether we’re beneath either the mountains or the fjord. Finally, the guard turns aside. We stop in front of a wooden door with an iron grille in its centre. The guard places his torch in an empty bracket on the wall and retreats back up the corridor.
Aron gestures. ‘He’s in there.’ There’s a key in the keyhole; Aron turns it and pulls the door open. ‘I have to lock you in. You haven’t much time.’
I step into the cell and wait for my eyes to adjust to the sparse lighting. Lucien, in his shirt and trousers, is lying on a bench set against one wall.
‘Lucien?’ I kneel next to him. ‘Lucien, wake up.’
He opens his eyes and smiles at me. ‘Aderyn. I hoped I would dream of you again.’
‘This isn’t a dream. I’m here.’ I brush his hair back from his forehead, taking in the bruises across his cheekbones, the welts around his wrists and the blistered skin of his neck. ‘Oh, my poor Lucien, what have they done to you?’
He pushes himself upright, wincing. ‘How did you get in here? It’s not safe –’
‘Aron arranged it. It’s fine, but we haven’t got long.’ I sit next to him on the bench and put my arms around him.
He sighs and leans into me, resting his head on my shoulder. ‘Aderyn … Turik betrayed me. He gave them your father’s book.’
‘I know.’
‘Siegfried has been here, trying to force a confession out of me.’ He laughs; the laugh of someone who is a feather’s breadth away from screaming. ‘Siegfried, with his box of dead leaves.’
I shudder and clutch him tighter. ‘I’m going to kill him. And we’re going to tell Convocation the truth, about everything. I’m going to get you out of here.’
He sits up straighter and takes my hands in his. ‘No – you mustn’t do anything. You’re already at risk, Aderyn. Siegfried is trying to make it look as if the king’s illness and death are all part of a plot by Atratys to take the crown. You have to get away from the Citadel as soon as you can.’ He kisses me gently. ‘Once I’m dead …’ His eyes widen in fear. ‘Once I’m dead, he’ll come after you.’
‘I’m not going to abandon you, Lucien.’
‘You have to. I’m one person, Aderyn. You have to think of Atratys. That is your duty. Remember?’
I smile, trying to force an appearance of confidence and bravery. ‘Is that any way to speak to your Protector?’ He doesn’t respond, so I try again. I place one hand lightly on his bruised face. ‘Look at me.’
He lifts his gaze.
‘I’m not going to let them murder you. I swear it, by the Creator’s blood.’ I lean forward, resting my forehead against his. ‘I think I love you, Lucien Rookwood.’
‘I know I love you, my lady.’
The door creaks opens. ‘Very touching. But it’s time to go.’ My cousin’s voice – Aron is silhouetted against the glow of the torch burning in the corridor – sounds oddly strained.
‘Already?’
‘I’m afraid so. Quickly now.’
‘Lucien –’
‘Go.’ He kisses me briefly, fiercely, then pushes me gently away. ‘Aron – thank you. I’m in your debt.’
‘Which is where I like you, Rookwood.’
There’s no time for anything else. I am outside the cell and Aron is locking the door. I press my hand against the rough wood in an invisible, futile gesture of farewell. My cousin takes the torch from the bracket, leaving Lucien in darkness. The guard is waiting further down the corridor. Silently, he takes the torch and the key from the prince and leads us back to the entrance. It doesn’t seem such a long walk in this direction.
The well-lit rooms and corridors of the upper castle are so bright in comparison, even at this late hour, that I have to squint. Aron accompanies me back to my apartment. We pause at the door.
‘Thank you, cousin.’
‘It was nothing.’ He scowls at the flagstones, scuffing them with the toe of his boot. ‘I doubt you’ll be able to see him again. You should try not to think about him. ’
‘Have you had any news from Merl?’
‘Not yet.’ Aron glances up at me. ‘Lucien’s trial is likely to be set for tomorrow night. If they find him guilty – which they will – he’ll die the next morning. I’d advise you not to attend the execution.’ For a moment his mask slips; he looks stricken. ‘Oh, Lucien … I can hardly bear to think about what they’ll do to him.’
He can only mean that it will be terrible – worse than what was done to Hawkin. Bile rises in my throat. ‘Then we have to go to Convocation tomorrow. We can’t wait.’
‘We must. We can’t give Siegfried the chance to mount a defence until we’re ready.’ He brushes his fingers against the back of my hand. ‘I’m sorry, cousin. But Lucien was right. Your duty is to Atratys. There’s more at stake here than the life of just one person.’
Aron is right too, I suppose. But it’s not what I want to hear. ‘I bid you goodnight then, cousin.’ I go into my room and shut the door behind me before Aron can see the tears that are threatening to spill down my cheeks.
All the next day I wait for news from Merl, wait for the evidence that will allow us to move against Siegfried. But now the sun is dropping towards the horizon, and nothing has come.
‘Aderyn, will you please stop pacing! You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet. And you’re making me anxious.’
I sit down, trying to appease Letya, but within moments I’m on my feet again. I go to the windows and throw them open. I suppose it’s cold outside, because m
y companion clicks her tongue and starts to drag a blanket from the back of the sofa to wrap around her shoulders.
There’s a knock at the door – a messenger from Aron. My hands are shaking; Letya breaks the seal on the letter and reads it.
‘Well?
‘Still nothing from Merl. I’m sorry.’
‘And the trial?’
‘Tonight. At the sixteenth hour.’
As my cousin predicted.
Letya is watching me closely. The mingling of grief and pity in her eyes is like a whip to my back.
‘He’s not dead yet, Letya.’
‘Aderyn … You need to think clearly. What would Lucien say, if he were here?’
I grit my teeth and kick over a small table. ‘I know what he would say. I know that I’m supposed to do nothing. To let him die in agony –’
I gasp, unable to continue.
Letya picks up the little table and the dish of candied walnuts that was sitting on it. Then she pulls on her gloves and takes one of my hands carefully in hers, drawing me towards the sofa. ‘Sit down, Ryn.’ A nickname, from when we were younger. I’ve not heard Letya use it for years. ‘I’ll ring for one of the housemaids to bring some chocolate.’
‘No – I don’t want anything.’
‘But you didn’t have lunch either.’
‘Honestly, Letya, I’m not hungry.’ The yellow dress that my friend’s been working on is on the sofa between us. It’s nearly finished now; she’s been embroidering it with tiny blue skybells for most of this afternoon. ‘How old is your niece?’
‘Just turned two. I hope I’ve made this big enough; my brother says she’s growing fast.’ She begins to talk about dressmaking and fabrics, trying to diffuse the tension, to distract me – and herself – from what is happening in the Citadel. From what is going to happen to Lucien. My heart swells as I listen to her.
‘I want you to go home.’ I sigh and rub my eyes, itchy from lack of sleep. ‘Not want … I need you to go home.’
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