The Queen's Secret

by Jessica Day George

  And every single one of them, when they saw Anthea, pointed toward the manor house. Two little girls in white pinafores daringly leaped out the door of their cottage and cheered, then darted back inside.

  Anthea didn’t know what they were cheering about. She could already smell the fire. Looking up through Florian’s ears she saw the smoke billowing over the church, and knew exactly where and why the women and the old men were bringing buckets and washtubs.

  The manor was on fire.

  Dear Anthea, Leonidas said.

  I know, my brave one, come when you can.

  Never as strong or as fast as Florian, Leonidas faded back. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Caesar’s nose as he and Jilly caught up.

  Leonidas, guard the mares, Anthea ordered. Stay with Buttercup and Blossom and keep them together. Guard the New Meg.

  I will.

  Then she came around the tall trees of the churchyard, and hauled back on Florian’s reins. The manor wasn’t on fire. The manor was destroyed.

  The front of it was simply gone. A gaping hole had been blasted in the beautiful stone façade, and there were flames pouring out of it. The villagers had formed a bucket line and were trying to put out the fire, shouting for more buckets, more washtubs, more water, as two of the men frantically worked the old well at the edge of the garden and another took his turn at the more modern pump near the side of the manor.

  And there, streaked black and far too close to the fire for Anthea’s comfort, was Caillin MacRennie. He was shouting orders and tossing water, while the MagTaran stood at his shoulder looking like he’d been stunned by a blow to the head.

  Anthea stood in her stirrups.

  “Caillin MacRennie!” she screamed.

  His head whipped around, but he threw the bucket he’d just emptied to the man next to him without missing a beat.

  “Go!” he shouted, and his voice cracked with smoke or emotion. “Go! Follow the trail! Get the boy!”

  “Trail?” Anthea shouted back, confused.

  “There!” Jilly was pointing to the side.

  It wasn’t the kind of trail Anthea was expecting. It was a great torn-up swath of the earth that cut around the side of the manor. The stone wall around the manor garden had been flattened, and the torn-up earth led on and away, toward the far end of the village.

  “What did this?” Jilly said.

  They had to slow down, not just because the horses could no longer keep running, but because of the treacherous, torn-up ground. Rocks from the wall had been scattered into the muck, and uprooted shrubs as well.

  There were tracks in the muck, like the tracks of a motorcar, but not. A continuous trail of strange tire marks, twice as wide as any car, wider than a train, and so heavy that many of the stones had been pushed deep into the hard earth. Anthea thought of the voices she had heard, the ones crying out, What is it?

  All she could do was shake her head at Jilly. They had to get to Finn. They had to protect the last King of Leana, the Soon King. The Now King.

  That nearly brought her up short. They were traveling with a human princess and mares. Two types of creatures that were cherished and protected in Coronam and Leana.

  Leonidas! You must guard the New Meg and the mares! Don’t come with us! Take them to a corner of the manor garden, away from the fire, and wait for Caillin MacRennie to take care of you. Tell Blossom to tell the New Meg that she must stay. It is not safe!

  I will.

  She passed her decision to Jilly via Caesar, since they had had to go wide around each side of a torn-up tree and she didn’t want to shout. Then Anthea sent her mind searching ahead, looking for Constantine, for Marius, for Finn.

  She could not find Constantine, but there was a flicker that she was sure was Marius. She told Florian to reach out to him, to see how far away they were, as they started up the rise toward the standing stones.

  One of the stones was gone.

  At first Anthea thought it had just been knocked down by whatever had smashed its way through the valley. But when they went to pass through the ring, it was just gone. There was no way a stone of that size could have been pushed so deep into the ground that they couldn’t see some trace of it.

  As they passed through the gap left, Anthea realized that there was no ripple. There hadn’t been going into the valley, either, she remembered. The ring of stones had been broken, and that had stolen whatever power it had. It was why she had suddenly heard the voices, asking for help, telling her to run.

  But whose voices had they been? Marius and Finn she was sure of. Caillin MacRennie? Constantine? One of the voices had been female, she was almost certain, but there were no mares in the village. One of the village women, then? If they really were all Leanan, full-blooded Leanan, could they all have the Way so strongly?

  “Anthea, look!” Jilly pointed ahead of them.

  At the same time, they heard Finn’s voice in their ears and Marius’s voice in their heads. They also heard a terrible grinding, crashing sound. And ahead of them they saw Finn, riding Marius flat out, in the wake of a terrible gray metal thing that was ripping apart the forest in front of it.

  Florian skidded to a halt, and so did Caesar. Their minds were pure panic, and Anthea didn’t blame them. What was that thing? It was like a motorcar and a train and some sort of iron-sided navy ship all rolled into one.

  Shaped like a huge steel box, it had a long gray tube mounted on the top that Anthea was fairly certain was some sort of cannon. She couldn’t see any windows, and had no idea how the machine could see where it was going. Instead of wheels it had big steel treads that rolled over everything in its wake without making a bump.

  “Finn, stop!” Anthea screamed. “Come away!”

  Marius turned and came back to them, though Finn tugged on the reins and swore. Marius was the one too scared to continue, and Florian and Caesar would not take a single step closer to the iron beast. Finn sagged in the saddle when Marius stopped, lathered and blowing, to face Florian.

  “She took Constantine,” Finn said dully.

  His face was so pale beneath the streaks of sweat and soot on his cheeks, his hair so thick with dust and ash, that he looked like a photograph and not a real person at all. He yanked on the reins but Marius refused to budge, and he started to dismount.

  Afraid that he would try to face down that machine on foot, and be crushed for his efforts, Anthea reached over and grabbed his arm to stop him. He struggled for a moment but then gave up, slumping even lower.

  “Who did this? My mother?” she demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “What is that thing?” Jilly wanted to know.

  “They called it a schutzer-something,” Finn said. “I couldn’t quite hear. It all happened so fast.” He blinked rapidly, and sort of leaned toward Anthea. She moved Florian around with her heel and put an arm around Finn.

  “Schutzer-something?” Jilly’s ears would have pricked up if she had been a horse. “Were they Kronenhofer?”

  “I think so,” Finn said. “Your mother was speaking another language to them, I think it was Kronenhofer. It sounded like it.”

  “All right,” Jilly said. “You and Marius are tired, but we need to—”

  “She started a plague and a war?” Anthea practically screamed the words.

  Marius shied away from her and she almost pulled Finn off his back. She let go of his shoulders so that she could grip her head with both hands. She felt like her skull was about to explode.

  “How is this woman a real person?” Anthea ranted. “How is she even real? How is she my mother?”

  “I don’t think—” Jilly began in a soothing voice.

  “She stole the herd stallion,” Finn interrupted. “And Brutus! And Campanula! And she tried to take Marius, too!”

  “Why? Why didn’t she just shoot them?” Jilly’s words made all three horses shift uncomfortably.

  “That thing could have done it, too,” Finn said, and they all took an uneasy look ove
r their shoulders. “One shot destroyed the front of the manor and the entire library.”

  “I can’t do this,” Anthea said, and her teeth started to chatter. “Jilly, you were wrong … I can’t hear all the horrible things at once.”

  “We have to go back,” Jilly said, pointing toward Upper Stonesraugh. “Rest, help, plan.”

  “No!” Finn picked up his reins again. “We have to follow them and—”

  “And what? Get shot with a cannon?” Jilly shook her head. “Their trail is perfectly clear, but there’s no sense in facing that thing with just some pistols and some tired horses!”

  Beloved?

  “That’s it,” Anthea said hotly. “I’m making Florian the herd stallion!”

  Beloved, I am—

  “I am the king!” Finn shouted at her. “We must go after Con now!”

  I cannot! Marius wailed.

  His knees buckled and he crashed down into the cold, churned mud, throwing Finn off his back. Jilly gasped and Caesar half reared in shock. Rock steady, Florian lifted his head and trumpeted to get their attention.

  Beloved! Now King! She Who Is Jilly! Florian cried out in all their minds. There is fighting at the manor house! Someone is stealing the mares and the New Meg!

  It cannot be! Caesar cried.

  I cannot go on, Marius said.

  Leave him, Anthea ordered, though it broke her heart. Finn, get up here.

  Finn scrambled to his feet and Anthea kicked out of a stirrup and held out her arm. He put a foot in and grabbed her elbow to swing up behind her, and they were off before she could get her own foot back in the stirrup or pull her coat out from under him, with Jilly right beside them on Caesar.

  Anthea could hear Marius crying behind them, and felt her heart break even further, but she couldn’t stop. They had to find out what was happening at the manor.

  When they got there, they saw that the fire was nearly out. Which made it easy to see the back door of the enormous van closing on Buttercup’s golden tail, and the crumpled forms of the villagers who had tried to stop the thieves.

  Howling with rage, Finn leaped from Florian’s back as the van sped off. But there was nothing any of them could do.

  CONSTANTINE

  Constantine was frightened, but he could not let the mares see. He was also filled with rage, and that he did allow all of them to witness. If they questioned—dared to question—the trembling of his legs or the rolling of his eyes, let them think it only rage that these humans had dared to lay hands on him and other members of his herd.

  It was easy to squash the fright and let the anger come forward, because the woman would not stop talking. The Woman Who Smelled of Dead Roses. Constantine had heard Florian speak of her; she was the mother of his rider, That Anthea filly. And now this mother had stolen him! The herd stallion! She had taken mares—Buttercup and Blossom and Campanula—and had dared to threaten them with injury! There was also a human filly, fragile and weeping into the mane of Blossom, by whom she was greatly loved. And Brutus, that strong and stoic stallion, ridden by the Caillin MacRennie!

  Brutus had leaped to defend his herd stallion, to help guard the mare Campanula, and so had been taken as well. Marius would be punished when Constantine returned, for he had run away and not gone to Constantine’s aid. Now they were all, save the coward Marius, in this clanking, grinding, stinking metal machine, and the woman would not stop talking.

  She told Constantine that he would be taken from the Now King, his king, calling the Now King a “beardless boy” and a “weakling,” and telling Constantine that he would be given, like a lump of sugar, to a new king. She spoke of a mighty bearded king in a faraway land who would make Constantine great, who would give him battles to win.

  Constantine trembled with rage.

  The Woman Who Smelled of Dead Roses had the Way, but yet she understood nothing.

  23

  SAILING AFTER STOLEN GOODS

  “Don’t look so worried, Thea,” Jilly said. “After all, this is the moment you’ve been dressing for all your life!”

  Anthea looked at her cousin, ready to yell, and met Jilly’s bright eyes and familiar rakish smile. Anthea just shrugged her army coat tighter around her, covering the sailor collar of her old school blouse even more, and gave a halfhearted scowl.

  She turned away from her cousin to look back over the docks. The massive steamship they were about to board was still loading anonymous crates and bundles, and the men had told them to wait far up the docks with their “animals” so that they wouldn’t disturb the sailors.

  Arthur stirred in her pocket, so she pulled him out and set him on Florian’s back to watch the unloading. He climbed Florian’s mane to sit between his ears, and Florian sighed deeply and did his best not to mind.

  “We’re going to do this,” Jilly said softly, taking her arm. “We are going to win.”

  “Yes, we are,” Queen Josephine said. She was standing behind them, and she put her arms around both girls and gave them a little squeeze.

  “Your Majesty,” Uncle Andrew said, “I wish I could tell you how—”

  “Don’t say another word, Andrew,” the queen said. “It is probably against the law to make the queen cry.”

  “Probably?” Jilly asked.

  “There are a lot of laws, Jilly. I can’t keep track of them all.”

  “Is there a law about not keeping horses?” Anthea asked.

  She turned a little in the queen’s embrace so that she could see her face. The queen’s bright blue eyes were too bright: she was on the verge of tears, which made Anthea’s own gray eyes prickle.

  “There is not,” the queen said firmly. “But since no one believes you, Andrew, I am more than happy to take matters into my own hands while you are in Kronenhof.”

  “What are you going to do?” Finn was at last drawn out of his glum torpor.

  “There will be parades,” the queen said emphatically. “There will be deliveries of medicine and vaccines to the last few suffering from the Dag. There will be special decrees. There will be unveilings of my new personal symbol.”

  She pointed with her chin at the rose and horseshoe that both Anthea and Jilly still wore. The queen herself sported the symbol in gold embroidery on both lapels of her riding jacket, and she and four attendant Maidens had all ridden to the docks to see them off. Three of them had the Way, they had proudly told Anthea.

  “I’m going to rip that gate right out of the Wall, and make sure that everyone knows about Last Farm,” the queen went on, her voice heated. “And that they know that there’s a herd in Bell Hyde, and Upper Stonesraugh, too! Caillin MacRennie and I are going to keep the riders busy traveling all around Coronam and Leana, blowing kisses and blessing babies!”

  “But King Gareth—” Andrew began, the frown creases in his forehead deepening.

  “Gareth can go jump in the sea for all I care,” the queen said with a sharpness that made Jilly’s and Anthea’s eyes meet, wide. “Our daughter has been kidnapped! And since he doesn’t want a war, and we aren’t allowed to talk about it, we are going to do this my way. With diplomacy. With polite smiles, and pretending that I’m just sending some friends on a social visit to the dear, dear empress, to show off the horses and their riders, and fetch my Meg from her spontaneous Kronenhofer holiday!”

  She cleared her throat.

  “And I’ve let Gareth know that this is all his fault. Him and his darling lady spy!”

  She squeezed Anthea even tighter. “I’m sorry, Thea dear, but your mother … your mother!”

  “We all keep saying it like that,” Jilly offered.

  “She’s not my mother,” Anthea said fiercely. “Not my real mother!”

  “Attagirl,” Jilly cheered.

  Anthea let her head rest on the queen’s shoulder. Josephine tilted her face and kissed the top of Anthea’s head.

  “My dear Horse Maidens,” Josephine whispered, “will you find my Meg and bring her home?”

  “You know we wi
ll,” Jilly said.

  “We will bring them all home,” Anthea said, raising her voice so that Finn could hear, too. “Meg and Constantine, Brutus, Blossom, Campanula, Buttercup! And we’ll stop this war my mother is trying to start, before it even gets off the ground!”

  “They have those schutzer-somethings,” Finn said bleakly, “and we have a handful of horses and pistols.”

  Arthur hooted softly.

  Finn almost smiled. “And an owl.”

  “I beg your pardon, but that is no way for a king to talk!” a woman’s voice cut in. “I can see that this is going to be a lot more work than I was told!”

  Anthea went rigid. For a moment she thought it was her mother and her hand moved to her pistol as Josephine let go of her.

  But this woman was not as tall or as slender as her mother, though she did have a very large veiled hat pinned to her beautifully upswept hair. She wore a navy blue suit and her high-buttoned boots had violet heels that matched the violet roses embroidered around the high collar of her snowy-white silk blouse. Behind her was an entire army of servants bearing dozens of pieces of matching luggage. One of them, Anthea saw, was bearing a basket with not one but two small dogs peeping out.

  “Now!” The woman pointed a gloved finger at Finn. “Shoulders back, chin up! There’s no need to smile, but there’s also no need to scowl!”

  “Who are you?” Finn demanded.

  Uncle Andrew suddenly gripped Jilly’s arm with one hand, drawing her to his side. He turned to Queen Josephine, his mouth open and his face white with shock.

  “I’m so sorry, Andrew,” the queen said. “I kept thinking I would warn you, but then I didn’t know how! This is the best way to make this look like a social visit, you know it is!

  “And I’m so worried about Meg,” she added. “I will do anything to get her back!”

  “Margaret,” the woman said. “Your daughter’s name is Margaret, Your Majesty. Pet names are so very inappropriate!”