My grandfather seemed to think I would see sense and back down if he could just get me to understand how dangerous the mission would be and how important I was to the kingdom. But I was all too aware of both those things already. I felt them in the weight of fear and responsibility that dragged me down with every step I took.
But I had spent weeks training in the forest, honing myself into someone stronger than the person I had been before. And yet still I had sent Alexander alone into danger on my behalf. And danger had found him.
I knew from my father’s teachings that such was the life of a monarch. If I did succeed at gaining my rightful throne, this weight of responsibility would never completely leave me. And all too often, others would be called upon to bear the danger. But I had not yet won my throne. And I knew in the deepest parts of me that I needed to do this. Needed to face my fear.
For this one time, I needed to prove to myself—and to those who I hoped would serve me—that they mattered to me. That I was willing to bear danger alongside them and for them. If I sheltered in this house until others had secured me my throne, I might never be able to make the decisions that would need to be made in the years to come.
And then there was the reason I would never tell my grandfather. That I still didn’t entirely trust him. If his men came back and reported that they hadn’t been able to access the castle, how would I know if that was true, or if the whole thing had been a ruse to pacify me?
And so I stood firm.
I could see my grandfather wished to forbid it outright, but the arriving guests served to remind him of the quandary he had put himself in. He had apparently decided to devote his considerable resources to making me queen. Which meant he couldn’t order me to do anything.
I was a little ashamed of the small feeling of power it gave me. And yet, despite all the assistance he had so far given me, I was unwilling to allow him to waltz into my life from nowhere and start ordering me about as if he were a truly parental figure. He had yet to earn that right.
And, of course, as soon as the door opened and the guests began to pour in, we both assumed our court masks, putting our disagreement to the side. We received them in the duke’s spacious ballroom which had been filled with large potted plants, low couches, and high tables of refreshments.
Unlike the last time I had faced the court, each of the guests on this occasion bowed or curtsied low to me and greeted me as Your Majesty. My grandfather—and perhaps to some extent my notes—had done their work well. But their eyes still conveyed a range of uncomfortable emotions, just as they had done at that previous audience. Discomfort. Shame. Fear. But also a new one. Hope.
None had the bright light of fervor or devotion in their eyes. They stood against my stepmother, or perhaps with my grandfather. I still had to win them over if I wished them to follow me for my own sake.
And so I allowed the familiar atmosphere to sweep me back to the years I had spent growing up in a castle and the countless such parties I had attended. I put on my most regal manner and attempted to charm everyone I spoke to. It was a delicate effort since I needed to strike a careful balance.
There was a great deal of sympathy to be gained by emphasizing my youth and vulnerability. I was a sixteen-year-old girl who had recently lost her only remaining parent. And my stepmother was trying to depose and murder me. Playing to their hearts would win me sympathy and possibly some loyalty.
But I also needed to reassure them that my stepmother was wrong—I wasn’t too young to sit on the throne. And that was less easily done. And also more personally painful. Because it involved reminding them that my father had been a good king, and that I had done everything at his side. They could trust me because they had trusted him.
The first few times it took everything in me to keep my tone light when I mentioned him. But to my surprise it became easier as the evening wore on. The more I talked of him, the more natural it became. By the time I made my way around to the baron of Carstone—a distant cousin on my father’s side—I was actually able to laugh with him over some shared reminiscences of visits he had made to the castle when he was an adolescent and I was a child.
“I thought he would never let me visit again after that,” he said when our chuckles subsided. “I don’t think I’d ever seen him so angry.”
I shook my head. “Well, it was his favorite horse, Roger. And far too big to ride. I seem to remember I even warned you about it at the time.”
The baron rolled his eyes in an undignified manner. “Yes, I’m sure you did. You were always trying to tag along or interfere with my fun in some way.”
I rolled my eyes back at him. It might not be queenly, but it was too enjoyable to talk to someone at least somewhat close to my own age. Someone who had shared something of my childhood.
After my mother’s death, my father had kept me close, and there had been few other children at the castle for me to form friendships with. Other than the occasional visits from Roger and a few of my other distant relations, I had spent my time with my father or on my stolen escapades with Alexander. Looking back, my father had no doubt known of all our adventures. He had encouraged my friendship with Alexander—one that kept me far closer to him than friendships with other girls of the court would have done. And I had never regretted the lack or seen my life as missing anything. Until now, when I wished I had stronger bonds among the nobles of my kingdom.
Roger’s face dropped as a moment of silence fell between us. “He did let me back, of course. He was a good man.”
“And a good king,” I murmured.
Roger looked up at me. “Aye, that he was.” He sighed. “We all grieve for him.”
I nodded, my breath suddenly tight in my throat. My cousin squeezed my arm, sadness and discomfort lingering on his face. “I…I really am so sorry, Snow.”
I nodded, wordless, and felt almost relieved when my grandfather swooped down and swept me away. I needed a moment to gather myself again.
But I didn’t have long. The count and countess of Ellsmore wished to speak with me. The presence of the older couple had surprised me a little. It was true they had looked almost sympathetically at me when I faced the court beside my stepmother, but I hadn’t included them on my list. I had always had the distinct impression they disapproved of me—ever since I was a child. I always felt too young and too pretty and too foolish in their eyes.
But the serious way in which they offered their condolences and their support for my reign made me rethink my assessment. Oh, their eyes still suggested disapproval—and no doubt they would have preferred someone older and more staid in my place—but it seemed their loyalty was solid, after all.
Several senior merchants wanted to speak to me next, all ones I recognized from consultations they had attended with my father. Their conversation focused on the queen’s new taxes and the stifling effect her reign was already having on the economy. I responded with concern, voicing my dislike of such policies, and they left looking more than satisfied with our conversation. My grandfather had been looking pleased as well until he had disappeared half way through the interaction.
I looked around for him, wondering how many more people I had yet to speak to and how much longer the party might be expected to last. I wasn’t tired, exactly—I had slept most of the day, after all—but I was weary in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.
I spotted him eventually near the door, deep in conversation with Bronson. And after a moment of observing them, my eyes narrowed, and I made a direct line across the ballroom floor toward them. I didn’t know my grandfather well yet, but something in his posture suggested a concern I hadn’t seen there earlier in the evening. And Bronson I did know. To the guests he probably looked entirely composed, but to me he looked downright worried.
I tried to keep my face equally neutral to the gaze of outsiders as I abruptly joined them.
“Trouble?”
My grandfather looked up at me, and a quickly hidden frown suggested my presence was bo
th unexpected and unwelcome.
“Snow.”
“You’ve had some news?” I had no reason to suppose it was news of Alexander, and yet concern for him made me too anxious to beat around the bush. “Tell me at once.”
The two men exchanged a look before my grandfather reluctantly spoke.
“We have heard back about the guard roster. The guard in question is on duty tonight only.”
My heart rate sped up as excitement raced through me, leaving me alert where before I had felt weary. Thank goodness I had spotted them. I suspected my grandfather would have failed to mention this piece of news until the morning otherwise, when it would already have been too late.
“So when do we leave, then?”
The duke shook his head, the movement subtle given our location. “We can’t go tonight. We’re not ready. We’ll have to wait for the next roster.”
I stared him down. “Absolutely not. That’s too long to wait. And what preparation can we really make? Our wits will serve us as well tonight as any other night, and we were always relying on them to see us through.”
“Snow, it’s too danger—”
I cut him off with a tilt of my chin and a flash of my eyes. “I think you mean Your Majesty. And we no longer have time for argument. I will make my farewells and retire for the evening.” I glanced down at my complicated gown. “I’ll need a change of clothes before I slip out. Have your men meet me in the kitchens in an hour.” I paused. “Or will they need two?”
My grandfather let out a slow, defeated breath. “One should be sufficient in the circumstances.”
I nodded once and turned to leave them. As I walked away, I heard Bronson mutter to the duke.
“When did she grow up?”
A small smile slipped across my face. I would no doubt remember all my failings soon enough, but for now the anticipation of seeing Alexander again lent me a fevered sort of courage. No more waiting around. The time had come to act.
When I faced the dark walls of the castle beside three men I had never seen before, my courage slipped somewhat. But I reminded myself that I had crept in here once before already and escaped without harm. That made two escapes, in fact. We could do this.
We had left the city behind, approaching the small side gate from the trees. Somehow in the hour it had taken us to prepare, the duke had gotten word to the gate guard about our approach. I hadn’t asked how, and I didn’t really want to know. My head was already full of far too many things as it was.
One of my companions knocked on the wooden gate in a strange rhythm, and after an extended moment that had my heart racing, it slowly eased open. A gruff looking man put his head out and glowered at us.
“I hope you brought extra. I don’t like all this last minute business.”
The man who had knocked nodded. “You’ll receive it plus the usual fee on our return. As always.”
The guard glared even more ferociously but made no protest. I hadn’t known that was the arrangement, and it relieved me somewhat. Insurance against his deciding to report us before we could escape. Still, I pulled the hood of my cloak more firmly around my face, keeping my head angled down. We were all in agreement that it would be far better if the guard didn’t recognize the fourth member of our party.
I was the third one through into the castle grounds, taking note of the second guard snoring on the ground. No wonder the guard didn’t like short notice arrivals if he needed to drug the other man on shift.
Thankfully the awake guard seemed to show no particular interest in me, and we had soon left the wall behind us as we moved through the scattering of trees. The men I traveled with clearly knew what they were doing, moving swiftly and silently so that I had to concentrate hard to keep up.
They had introduced themselves back in the duke’s kitchen, but my nerves had been thrumming so hard I only remembered the name of the leader. Tarver. I suspected he might be the captain of the duke’s guard. No doubt he had only been sent on this mission because I had insisted on coming. I hoped he didn’t resent it.
For all my nerves and racing heart, this first part turned out to be the simplest portion of the rescue attempt. I had half expected my grandfather to have an equally neat arrangement for gaining access to the castle itself, but no such suggestion had been forthcoming.
“What’s the plan?” I asked, slipping up beside Tarver as quietly as I could. For the first time I agreed with my grandfather’s reluctance at having to execute the rescue so hurriedly. It really would have been better to have this conversation before now.
Tarver looked down at me, but I couldn’t read his expression in the dark.
“Now we have to hope we get lucky, Your Highness.” His tone made it clear he did not approve of such a haphazard approach.
I shook my head. “Ebony, remember?” I had come up with my own code name and was rather proud of it. I didn’t want to risk someone overhearing one of them using my title. Of course, I was hoping we wouldn’t approach anyone close enough to be overheard at all, but it was better safe than sorry.
He dipped his head once in acknowledgment but said nothing. Not exactly encouraging, but I pressed on.
“I have a way in, if we need one.”
He actually stopped at that, wheeling to face me, his men falling in to flank us.
“You have a way in, Prin—uh, Ebony?”
“Yes.” I tried to sound confident and sure. And not in the least offended by his doubt. “I did grow up here, remember.”
He exchanged a quick look with his men, before stepping aside.
“Lead on, then.”
I hoped he couldn’t see me lick my lips nervously as I strode forward ahead of them. Coming in on an upper floor when we wanted to end up in the dungeon wasn’t ideal, but it was better than no access at all. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many servants forced to work late into the night as Gertie had been doing last time I was here.
When we arrived at the base of the vines, the three men exchanged another look, but I didn’t hesitate, and none of them protested. Together we scaled the wall, and I hoped they noticed that I didn’t hold them back, moving as quickly and confidently as any of them. All my recent practice was paying off.
My neat curls, arranged and securely pinned in place by Mrs. Preston herself, made finding and releasing a hair pin easier than it had been on my last ascent. I popped open the window and swung into my dressing room, quickly moving away from the window to leave room for the men to enter.
When we all stood crammed into the small room, I thought I detected an impressed look on Tarver’s face. I straightened, my head lifting. When we returned safely, I hoped he would report to my grandfather that I had not been dead weight—or worse—on this rescue.
Tarver looked around the small space. “I suppose these are your rooms?”
I nodded.
“Well, as you said, you know the palace best. Lead on.”
I swallowed. This was what I had wanted—or close enough. But my clammy hands and roiling stomach apparently hadn’t received the message.
I carefully eased out into my bedchamber, relieved to find it empty and lit only by moonlight. I gestured the others through, but we all paused by the door that would lead us out into the corridor. My sight glazed over as I considered our current location and our goal—the dungeon.
“I think we should be safe if we take the long route,” I whispered at last.
“The long route?” asked one of the men whose names I had forgotten.
I shrugged. “It’s an old building and several kings have added new sections or redesigned, so it’s something of a maze. There are shorter and longer routes to most places, and all the inhabitants know the shorter ones. The servants won’t be using the longer ways. We’ll just need to watch out on the corridors where they intersect.”
“We’re in your hands,” said Tarver, with a gesture toward the door.
I bit my lip. Did he sound afraid? Or was that in my head? I shook myself and eased o
pen the door, quickly checking the corridor beyond.
“All clear. But move quickly,” I whispered over my shoulder, and then I was off down the cold stone floor.
I forced myself not to run, moving as quietly as I possibly could so my straining ears would have no impediment. But my loudly beating heart had other ideas, and I was sure I wouldn’t hear anyone approaching over its noise.
Lanterns burned at regular intervals in this wing, so there was no chance to disappear into the shadows. I picked up my pace, deciding speed mattered more than complete silence. My three companions kept pace without making any sound I could discern. A skill I envied. No doubt their hearts maintained a normal rhythm rather than overwhelming all their senses.
When we at last pushed through a door and then through a second opening covered by a hanging tapestry, I breathed a soft sigh of relief. There was no such thing as safe here in the heart of the castle, but this corridor was a lot safer than the ones we had just traversed, at least.
No lanterns burned here, but the way was lit by the moon, shining through several uncovered windows. Tarver looked around with a raised eyebrow.
“I see what you mean.”
I shrugged. “We use all the rooms on occasion. Mainly when we have large parties of foreign royals visiting. But most of the time they sit empty.” My eyes caught on a pile of dust in one corner. No doubt the overworked servants had decided the upkeep of these wings was of least importance in their list of duties. A very good thing for us.
I led them more confidently now, down a branching corridor and then another one before pushing through a door to a winding staircase.
“For the servants to use when we have guests in these rooms,” I explained.
We all spiraled downward, the trip seeming to take far longer than its actual length warranted. How much of the night had now passed? How much still remained? I imagined Alexander’s surprise when he saw us, and some of my earlier excitement and courage returned.
A Dream of Ebony and White: A Retelling of Snow White (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 4) Page 14