“Is she plain? Pretty? What does she look like? Paint a picture for me, boy.”
He turned an assessing eye on Reyna, who gave him a baleful look and held her tongue.
“She has brown hair and brown eyes,” he said finally. “She’s small. She would not birth strong boys.”
“Yes, what else?” Niemi-si said.
“Her skin is golden, like this chamber, and her nose is peeling. She does not care for her skin.”
Self-conscious, Reyna scratched her nose.
“Not beautiful, then,” Niemi-si said.
“She’s beautiful,” her grandson said reluctantly. “For a del Marian.”
A dozen more questions Reyna wished to ask, but the boy rose. Reyna knew when she had overstayed her welcome. “Thank you for seeing me, madame. I’m grateful.”
“Yes?” Niemi-si held out a palm. “How grateful?”
Reyna pressed a third double-shell into her hand, and nearly jumped when the old woman grabbed her wrist and held tight. “A word of warning, Reyna of the Tower.” Niemi-si pulled her closer. “You don’t even have to pay me for it.” Her grip tightened. “I’m old but I’m not foolish. A masterwork will require more than speaking to me. Geographers are not known for staying home and minding their business. You will dig deeper, I think. And deeper is not safe.”
Reyna did not bother to deny it. “I’m always careful.”
“Are you?” Niemi-si released her hand, straightened. “My grandson says you are beautiful. Beauty will open many doors, but it can also be a prison. Have a care. I was beautiful once.”
Reyna wanted to ask what she meant, but the boy jerked his head—Out!—and she had no choice but to follow.
* * *
The bells rang as Reyna left St. Mark’s Parish and made for home. A great clamoring coming from the harbor. Like those around her, she stopped in the street, one lined with palms, and turned her head toward the waterfront. Not frightened, only curious. What they heard was not the alarm that signaled attack. Those bells were distinct: three peals followed by a count of ten, the pattern repeating until the threat had gone or the bell ringer had been forced to flee. What, then, had happened?
Thundering hooves joined the bells as a company of soldiers bore down from the castle. Having no desire to be trampled, Reyna scurried off the street with the rest of the crowd. The men were led by a grim-faced King Ulises. Clothing as black as his horse, a cape billowing behind him. A fearsome sight. When he saw her, his hand shot up, signaling the men to stop. The horse came to a halt directly in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” she cried. All around them, men and women swept low in deference.
King Ulises reached down, ordered, “Come with me.”
Automatically, Reyna placed her hand in his and found herself hauled up behind him.
“Something’s happened to the Amaris,” he said over his shoulder, and raced on toward the docks, leaving onlookers wide-eyed in their wake.
Confusion swung to dread. The Amaris was Lord Elias’s ship. Jaime would be with him.
When they reached the waterfront, she saw what had caused the alarm. Five ships from the royal fleet had sailed into the harbor, the same five that had gone to Lunes for Queen Vashti’s coronation. Four appeared undamaged, but the fifth vessel, the Amaris, flew the royal flag of del Mar at half-mast, and below that pennant was another. A plain red flag that signaled a ship in extreme distress.
Twelve
THE CREW OF THE Amaris had vanished. Not a soul had been left behind, alive or dead. To Reyna, perched on the railing, the scene took on a terrible familiarity.
Admiral Maira and King Ulises exchanged tense words beneath the mainmast. The deck swarmed with people hanging on their every word.
“The storm came from nowhere,” Admiral Maira told the king. Sweat beaded his forehead and soaked his mustache, which hung limp around his mouth. “Two days after we started home from Lunes. It lasted hours only, but it turned the sky black and we could not see our sister ships. When the storm cleared . . .” He trailed off, his voice full of trepidation. And no wonder, Reyna thought bitterly. The king had sent him specifically to command this flotilla. Lord Elias’s safety was his responsibility. And he had lost the king’s oldest friend and cousin by marriage. “When it cleared, the Amaris was as you see. There was no one here, Your Grace. Not one man.”
King Ulises demanded, “How far did you search?”
“In every direction, for a day. When we saw nothing, I ordered our return to Cortes. For reinforcements. I don’t know how they managed to take our men without a fight—”
Didn’t he? Reyna wanted to choke him. She remembered his smirking words. A strange singing? Do you expect us to believe the men were placed under some sort of spell?
Towering beside the king was a man with kohl-rimmed eyes, silver-black hair pulled into a queue, and a face that smiled rarely and scowled often. Aimon was commander of the king’s armies. On land, and at sea, when necessary. He said, “It’s the same as the Simona. And the Bushido ship near Caffa. Just as Lady Reyna said.”
Upon hearing her name, Admiral Maira’s lips thinned. The look he sent her was full of venom, as if she were the root of all his troubles. She returned his poisonous glare with one of her own. What had she done, except live to tell what she’d seen? He said, “There were no bodies left this time . . .”
Every part of Reyna was strung tight as the rigging. She was afraid she knew why. The shipmen aboard the Amaris were not strangers to her. She had known them since she was a young girl. Not one of them had a physical defect, at least none that could be seen. No missing limbs or burns. The oldest shipman was in his forties, hale and hearty despite his years. There had been no reason to leave anyone behind. They were all strong men. Men who would fetch good prices at the slave markets.
Lord Elias.
Jaime.
Slave markets.
Reyna did not realize how hitched her breathing had become until she saw the king watching her. Even from where she sat, she could see the vein pulsing at his temple. The admiral babbled on, his words trailing off only when a cry emerged from the docks.
A woman calling for help. Reyna, at the opposite rail, could not see who it was, but one of the men peered overboard, then swung around in shocked dismay. “Your Grace, it’s Lady Elias!”
The Amaris tipped alarmingly as everyone hurried to the side. Reyna jumped off the railing and ran across the deck. Horrified, she saw Mercedes on the dock, in a heap of yellow silk. One of her ladies knelt by her in a panic. Dita. It was her voice Reyna had heard. King Ulises was the first over the hull and down the rope. Then Commander Aimon. Reyna fought her way toward the ladder but was repeatedly shoved aside. Not deliberately—the men simply did not see her. An elbow connected with her cheekbone and sent her teeth rattling. She heard a snarl. “Get out of the way! You’re hurting her!” Reyna found herself yanked high by the collar, like a kitten from a litter. Pulled out of harm’s way. She looked straight into Levi’s eyes, blue as the sea at its deepest.
Levi set her down. His hand brushed her smarting cheek. “Are you hurt?”
Reyna could only stare, mute. How was he here?
“Reyna! Are you hurt?”
She managed a “No!”
“Then hold on.” Once again, she found herself lifted high, sailing over the side of the ship onto the ladder. Levi held tight to her forearms, demanding, “Do you have it?”
Reyna grabbed on to the rope. “Yes.” When he let go, she put him out of her mind. She had to. Because there was Mercedes. She climbed down as fast as she could, sliding in some parts, nearly burning her hands in the process, and almost fell over Commander Aimon at the bottom. He righted her.
The king knelt with Mercedes in his arms. She clutched his shoulders, crying, “I’m not going anywhere! Where is Elias?”
Blood soaked her yellow skirts. It pooled onto the dock. Reyna had never seen so much blood, nearly black against the wood. Dita tried helplessly to m
op it up with her shawl, as though that would help in some way. King Ulises said, “There’s no one on the Amaris. We don’t know where he is.”
Green eyes had turned glassy with shock. “What do you mean?”
He cupped her face in his hands. They were trembling. “Listen to me. I promise I’ll find out more, but for now we must get you help. Do you hear me, Cousin? You must think of the child.”
At the word child Mercedes at last focused on the blood around her. “Oh,” she said with some surprise. To Reyna it looked as if her breath stopped before her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped into the king’s arms.
* * *
“Mother and child are safe, Your Grace. For now,” the midwife said.
“What do you mean, for now?” King Ulises kept his voice low, careful not to disturb Mercedes sleeping in her bed. He glared across the expanse of blankets and pillows. “Spit it out, woman.”
That he was so discourteous showed how anxious he was. Though his appearance would have already given him away; he must have run his hand through his hair a hundred times. Lord Elias was missing, and Mercedes had yet to open her eyes.
The bedchamber was decorated in green and gold. Sunlight and fresh air drifted in through open balcony doors. Reyna hovered by the foot of the bed, not trusting completely the midwife’s pronouncement. She watched the rise and fall beneath the blankets, counted each beat in between. Where there was breath, there was life. But for how long? Dita took Reyna’s hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. This would be devastating for Dita as well. Lord Elias was her cousin. And her betrothed had also been lost at sea. Years ago, after a storm.
Despite being hissed at by the king, the midwife remained calm. “She cannot be moved for the remainder of her pregnancy.”
An appalled silence filled the chamber. The king said, “For three months?”
Commander Aimon had slipped into the chamber, listening by the door.
“It’s necessary,” the midwife insisted. “She’s had a more difficult time of it than before. And with Lord Elias . . . away, she must rest and be kept as free from worry as possible.”
“You ask the impossible. Her husband has vanished.” The king looked agonized.
“Nevertheless,” the midwife said quietly.
King Ulises rubbed both palms down his face, then spotted his commander near the door. “What is it?”
Commander Aimon said, “The queen of Lunes requests an audience. She says it’s urgent.”
Reyna’s hand slipped free of Dita’s. Another strange, inexplicable occurrence: the del Marian flotilla had returned with Lunesian ships carrying important guests, Queen Vashti and her brother, Prince Levi.
Why would the queen leave her home so soon after a parent’s death, as well as her own coronation? What was Levi doing here?
A thundercloud descended over the king’s expression. “I don’t have time to trade insults with her today. I didn’t invite her here. She can wait. Forever is my preference.”
“She thought you might say that,” Commander Aimon acknowledged. “I’m to tell you she has information on our missing shipmen. All of them.” He paused, long enough for his words to register. All eyes were riveted on him. “She sailed here at Lord Elias’s request.”
The king looked down at his clothing—sweat-stained, bloodstained—and grimaced. Urgent or not, one did not meet a visiting queen in such conditions. He said to the commander, “One hour.”
“I’ll tell her,” the commander said. “She asked for Lady Reyna as well.”
“Me?” Reyna asked. At the same time, the king said, “Why?”
“She did not say.”
King Ulises looked a hairsbreadth away from gnashing his teeth. Instead he circled the bed, leaned over Mercedes, and kissed her on the cheek. He said to Reyna, “One hour.”
“Your Grace.” Before Reyna had risen from her curtsy, he was gone, taking the commander with him. The midwife moved off to the small adjoining bedchamber. Normally reserved for a lady’s maid, it would be her sleeping quarters for the foreseeable future. The king wanted her nearby at all times.
Reyna and Dita remained at the foot of the bed. Softly, in case her suspicions were wrong, Reyna asked, “Are you asleep?”
“No.” Green eyes snapped open. Mercedes’s expression said she’d heard everything. “Why would Vashti ask for you?” Awake, but her voice was thready and weak.
“I know as much as you.” Reyna came to stand beside Mercedes, placed her hand in hers. Dita followed. “I’ll find out in an hour.”
“You’ll tell me everything?”
The glance Reyna exchanged with Dita held both worry and resignation. They knew that trying to keep anything from Mercedes would likely cause more harm than telling her the truth.
“I promise,” Reyna said.
Mercedes’s breathing eased. “Thank you.” Her eyes shifted to Dita. “She has less than an hour. You’ll put her in the red dress? It should have been delivered this morning.”
“I will,” Dita said. “Don’t worry.”
At Reyna’s bewildered look—why were they speaking of dresses?—Mercedes said, “You’ll need armor for a meeting with Vashti, dear heart. Clothing can be its own kind of mail. Keep your chin high. Don’t let her scare you.”
“Is she scary?”
“When she chooses to be.” Mercedes struggled to sit up. The force of two glares sent her flat again. “Reyna. Ulises and Vashti . . . apart they are rational people. But when they are together, it is something else entirely.”
“What do you mean?” Reyna asked.
“A long story, and not mine to tell. Someone must keep a cool head during that meeting.” Her friend placed a hand over her belly. “Do you understand? Someone will have to remember Elias.”
Reyna did not understand a thing. She said, “I understand.”
The midwife returned, clucking and shooing them away when she saw Mercedes was awake. Reyna had time enough to kiss her friend’s cheek before Dita dragged her off to prepare for a royal summons.
* * *
The dress was the most exquisite Reyna had ever owned: made of silk the color of garnets, it was cut off the shoulder to reveal her bare throat and collarbone. Black lace trimmed the hem and sleeves. As far removed from trousers as was possible.
“My goodness,” Dita said. “I’ve never seen such a transformation.” They stood by a full-length looking glass in Reyna’s chamber, Dita expertly weaving strips of gold wire into her hair. It had been left loose; there was no time for anything more elaborate, and the strands fell like liquid onyx to her waist. “You’re like a chameleon. So much beauty under that scruff and paint.”
“I’m scared to death, Dita.”
Dita’s hands stilled. She met Reyna’s gaze in the looking glass. “Of Queen Vashti?”
“Of everything. What if Mercedes doesn’t get better? What if we can’t find Lord Eli—”
“Don’t borrow trouble.” Dita resumed her weaving, this time with more vigor. “What we choose to believe is powerful, Reyna. Mercedes and the babe will be fine. Elias will come home safe. He always does. This I believe.” Her reflection showed busy hands and a solitary teardrop on her cheek.
Reyna did not flinch when Dita pulled too hard. She said, “And so will Jaime.”
A black lace fan lay on a high chest. Dita took the fan, offered it to Reyna. “And so will Jaime.”
* * *
King Ulises looked splendid and bad-tempered. Reyna had arrived at his chambers before the appointed time. So far, there were only the three of them present: Reyna, the king, and Commander Aimon. The commander with his ceremonial weapons, sword and dagger as deadly as they were beautiful. The king in pale green and silver, robes lined in ermine. Diamonds studded a crown made of hammered gold and silver, more elaborate than the black onyx he usually wore. This crown was fit for a visit from a queen.
The balcony doors had been left open, a dozen of them, allowing the salt air to drift in, along
with the cry of the gulls and a ship’s horn, blasting long and low from the harbor.
“Sit, Reyna,” the king invited. “If I know Vashti, she’ll have us waiting half the day before—”
The doors opened. A steward announced the arrival of Queen Vashti and Prince Levi.
“Early?” King Ulises said, flummoxed. “What is happening here, Aimon?”
“A strange day,” the commander agreed, before their guests walked through the door.
The family resemblance was impossible to miss. Queen Vashti was close to thirty, the same age as Reyna’s king. She shared Levi’s dark hair and blue eyes, his masculine features softened only slightly upon her smaller frame. Her dress, as blue as her eyes, draped a figure that made Reyna feel like a young boy in comparison. Flat and formless. A black ribbon circled the queen’s neck, and a sapphire rested in the hollow of her throat. She was striking, in the way that enormous sapphire was striking. Reyna heard the king’s breath catch and pretended she heard nothing.
Levi found Reyna the moment he stepped into the chamber. His steps faltered, resuming only after his sister’s nearly imperceptible glance. He was not accustomed to this version of Reyna—all smoke and mirrors, black lace and red silk—and she decided not to be offended by it. She had been shocked herself, standing before the looking glass.
King Ulises spoke first. “Queen Vashti, Prince Levi, welcome to del Mar.” His words were correct, but his tone was curt, hardly welcoming. It was not lost on Levi, who bristled.
Queen Vashti was not put off by the cold formality. She swept up to the king, took his hand in both of hers. He went completely and perfectly still.
“Ulises.” Every inch of Queen Vashti radiated concern. “Your poor, dear cousin. How is Mercedes?”
“Not well.”
“No! And the child?”
“The same.” Carefully, the king peeled her hands from his and stepped back. “My house is burning around me, Vashti. Your prayers have been answered.”
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