One Dark Throne

by Kendare Blake

  “Margaret Beaulin?” Pietyr asks, checking his own crossbow. “From the Council?”

  “The same,” Natalia replies. “She is war gifted. She will be useful.”

  WOLF SPRING

  Jules wakes slowly in the warm bed, beneath the pleasant weight of Joseph’s arm across her chest. His eyes open when he feels her begin to stir, and he kisses her shoulder.

  “Hello, my Jules,” he says, and her cheeks go hot. Joseph laughs. “Now you decide to blush? After all this?”

  “It’s new to me,” she whispers.

  “And to me.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” he says, and moves atop her again to kiss her. “But it’s true. The first time with you was always going to be special. No matter how many ways I imagined it.”

  “Joseph.” She giggles and squirms away toward the window.

  Sealhead Cove is full of floating lit lanterns.

  “Joseph,” Jules says, and grips the sill. They had fallen asleep, and slept too long.

  THE QUEENS’ HUNT

  Arsinoe stumbles farther and farther into the woods.

  “Where do we go, Braddock?” She is already breathless from kicking through the heavy summer undergrowth. She looks around. The bent-over tree? Perhaps it would grant her luck. But it is not far enough. And besides, it has no loyalty, no reason to favor her above either of her sisters.

  “There’s a thicket,” she pants. “Where the deer go.” Jules has taken her there. She turns right and left and momentarily panics, thinking she has somehow managed to get herself lost in her own trees.

  A while ago, the hunting horn blew from Wolf Spring, the townsfolk’s way of telling her that at least one of her sisters has entered the woods. It is all the help she can hope for, and it seems an age has passed since the horn sounded.

  Somewhere in the distance, leaves rustle and twigs crack underfoot. The sounds are far away but not quiet, chasing sounds rather than stalking. Arsinoe crouches and backs up, behind a large trunk. She motions for Braddock, and he comes to sniff her hands and see what she has.

  “Stupid bear. You have to run, don’t you see? They’ll kill you if you don’t.” He blinks at her with calm bear eyes. As a great brown, he has not had to fear much, and though he can sense the fear in her, without the familiar-bond she cannot make him understand.

  If only Jules would come. She must know, by now, what has happened. Unless they got to her. That thought settles like ice in Arsinoe’s stomach. If anyone has hurt Jules, Arsinoe will find a way to tear them to pieces.

  “We can’t rest long, boy,” she says, and pats Braddock’s broad head. “We have to keep moving.”

  “Up that tree,” Bree says, and points. The tree is tall, with many sprawling, climbable branches, and it is heavy with leaves. They mean to put Mirabella up it so she might see her sisters coming and burn them up with fire or bolts of lightning as they approach.

  “They may never pass by this way,” Mirabella objects.

  “Give me your cloak.” Elizabeth holds her hand out, and Mirabella takes it off so that Bree can help Elizabeth into it. “I will run decoy. I will find them and bring them right beneath you.”

  “No! That is too dangerous. You cannot outrun a bear or dodge a poisoned arrow. We should stay together.”

  “How long do you want to stay up in that tree?” Elizabeth asks. “This hunt will end only when one queen is dead.” She squares her shoulders. “Don’t worry about me, Mira. I may have only one hand, but my legs have never been stronger.”

  “Take Bree with you, at least.”

  Her friends look at each other reluctantly, but they know they will never get her to agree otherwise.

  “All right, then,” Mirabella says. She turns and looks up. “I will need some help onto the first branches.”

  Katharine and her riders are the last into the woods, but that does not bother her. She always intended to be the hunter, chasing her prey.

  “The other queens have a strong lead,” Margaret Beaulin says, scanning the trees.

  “We should have brought hounds,” says Bertrand Roman.

  Katharine laughs.

  “That would not have been very sporting.” Let her sisters run. They cannot run forever. And they cannot have gotten far on foot. She turns Half Moon in a prancing circle. He is as eager to be off as she is.

  “Is it a waste of words to ask you to keep to the middle?” Pietyr asks, and Nicolas grins.

  “Of course it is,” Katharine replies.

  “A great brown bear can disembowel a running horse. Think of Half Moon, if you will not think of yourself.”

  Katharine strokes the black gelding’s frothy neck.

  “That bear will not touch us. And if you see it, try to take it alive.” She puts her heels to Half Moon’s sides and takes off down the path, not waiting to hear them argue. They act like taking the bear alive is an impossible task. But she had their weapons tipped specially with sleeping draught. A few cuts and arrows, and the beast should fall serenely to the ground.

  “But it will not be that easy for you, sister,” Katharine whispers, and leans forward excitedly in the saddle.

  WOLF SPRING

  Jules and Joseph hurry past the docks toward the market with Camden running ahead, jumping onto crates and piles of rope, frustrated that they cannot leap and bound like she can.

  “It’s practically dark.” Jules moans. “The feast’ll have started!”

  “Arsinoe will understand.” Joseph falls behind, trying to button his shirt. Jules did not give him much time to dress before leaving the house. “And she’s safe. Everyone is with her. Madrigal and Ellis.”

  “Madrigal! What good is she? None on a good day, and now less than that when she’s doubled over with baby sickness.”

  “That baby is your little sister or brother.”

  Jules looks back at him grudgingly. But Arsinoe is who matters now. Jules can just imagine how she will scowl when they slide in beside her at the feasting table. ‘What took you so long?’ she will say. ‘I didn’t have anyone to plug my ears during the Council speeches.’

  They walk quickly through the market, past the empty stalls, and through the alley that leads to the square. Except the sliver of the square that Jules can see is empty. There is no one at the tables and no laughter carrying down the streets. She looks back out to the harbor. Maybe she was mistaken, and the lanterns she saw from Joseph’s window were an illusion or a dream. But there they are, burning, bobbing on the water. The ceremony is over.

  “Where is everyone?” Joseph asks.

  Camden whines and swings her dark-tipped tail back and forth. Something is wrong.

  “We’ll try the docks and the shore?” Jules suggests. She can think of nowhere else to go.

  “Juillenne! Joseph!”

  Luke comes running with Hank fluttering and clucking on his heels. “Where have you been?”

  “We fell asleep,” Jules replies honestly, too distracted to feel shy. “What’s happened? Where is everyone?”

  “They’re in the orchard,” Luke spits. “Waiting on the edges of the forest. The poisoners and the queen, Queen Katharine, she challenged them to a hunt!”

  “A hunt?” Joseph repeats, and his brow furrows. “Luke, where is Arsinoe?”

  “I don’t know! She went into the woods first with Braddock. Both of them are after her now. Especially that poisoner. She kept staring at Queen Arsinoe the whole time!”

  “Where?” Jules demands, and when Luke starts to sputter, she reaches out and shakes him. “Where?”

  “The southern edge, near the creek. But she could have gone anywhere. Where were you, Jules? Why weren’t you here?”

  Jules does not answer. She runs for the forest, not near the orchard where the crowd would see her, but up the hill and off the road to follow the stream. Camden sprints ahead, her pink nose twitching and scenting the air. In her panic and haste, Arsinoe may have gone anywhere. But she will not have left Brad
dock behind, and the scent of the bear will be easy for Camden to pick up.

  “Jules, wait,” Joseph calls out. He is right on her heels, but even his long stride is no match for her short one when her blood is up.

  “Wait for what?” she snaps, frustrated. She pauses for one step and turns. “I know that we can’t interfere. But I can’t let her be hunted out there alone, Joseph. Can you?”

  “No.” He grabs her arm and they start to run again. “We have to find her.”

  THE QUEENS’ HUNT

  The poisoners see Braddock first. His enormous, shaggy form is impossible to hide. Arsinoe hears the cries and then the hoofbeats. She looks at her bear.

  “Run!”

  But a great brown’s instinct is not to run. It is to fight. He turns toward their pursuers, still far off in the trees. He sniffs the air curiously and stands up on his hind legs.

  “No,” Arsinoe pleads. She pats his side desperately and motions with her hands toward where they must go, deeper into the trees, into the dense growth where the horses will not have speed. “Please, Braddock, please come! They’ll kill you!”

  They cannot kill him. The big sweet bear. The poisoners will remember the havoc he wreaked the night of the Quickening. They will not take any chances. They will not give Arsinoe any time to tell them that he is not mean-tempered; that it was all her fault.

  “Come on, Braddock, come on!” Her feet move in place, and her eyes dart between him and the approaching riders. Katharine is in the lead, her crossbow raised.

  “Please!” Arsinoe hisses, and then cries out with relief when he drops to all fours and follows her into the underbrush.

  Mirabella stiffens at the sound of running horses. They are close, but she is safe enough, high in her tree. She presses against the trunk and braces her legs, her feet stuck firmly into the V of a branch. Bree and Elizabeth left to run decoy only a short time ago. She lost track of them almost immediately. Will she see them run past with Katharine on their heels? Or a bear? She clenches and unclenches her fists. Her lightning is stronger than her fire, but the fire is faster. And more accurate.

  The shouting and hoofbeats grow louder, and she twists to see whether she can spot movement. The noises are violent. Crashing. But Elizabeth and Bree set off in the opposite direction. They should be safe unless they have circled back.

  It is terrible, waiting there, listening to her sisters hunting each other. Wondering what is happening. Not knowing what to hope for. The clever thing to do would be to remain right where she is. To wait for it to be over and for Bree and Elizabeth to return.

  Mirabella climbs down from her tree and drops to the ground.

  Her sister and her bear have heard them coming and darted into the foliage like frightened rabbits, but it will not save them. The distance covered by Half Moon’s legs is much greater than the distance covered by Arsinoe’s. If Arsinoe were smart, she would ride the bear. Or perhaps there are limits to even what a familiar will allow.

  “Don’t lose them!” Nicolas calls, exhilarated, his eyes bright. Even Pietyr has gotten into the spirit of things and rides as focused as a diving hawk.

  The bear comes into view, and Katharine holds her crossbow at the ready. But she is not after it. The others, with their weapons edged with sleeping draught, may have their fun with him. She wants only Arsinoe. It was always going to be Arsinoe she hunted, the one from Wolf Spring, the one who would die here, in front of her own city. It seems only fitting.

  Half Moon thunders through the ferns and shrubs, and the bear grows larger ahead, dwarfing the black-dressed queen running by its side. Katharine should have painted poison onto Half Moon’s shoes so she could simply ride Arsinoe into the ground. Oh well. Perhaps she will save that for Mirabella.

  She smiles until the bear turns to fight.

  “No, Braddock, no!” Arsinoe shouts, and stomps her feet, but he will not obey. He is tired of running. The hoofbeats and unfamiliar voices coming closer and closer make him angry. He stands on his hind legs and roars so they will go away. He will not swat them unless he has to.

  Arsinoe does not know what to do. They cannot stop, but he will not come. She shakes her head and turns to run on alone but stops after only a few strides. He is her bear. She cannot leave him.

  “Go!” Mirabella shouts.

  Arsinoe freezes. She searches the trees and sees Mirabella ducked behind a fat trunk, her hood pulled over her hair.

  “Go!” Mirabella orders again, eyes wild. “Go now! Run, Arsinoe! You must run!”

  “I can’t!” she cries as Braddock drops to his feet and charges the horses. She can only stand and watch as the knives and arrows fly. She can only listen to him bellow as they sink deep into his soft, brown coat.

  She looks at Mirabella through blurry eyes.

  “You run,” Arsinoe says. “Save yourself. They have already caught me.” She turns and cups her hands to yell. “Come and get me, you poisoner cowards! If you’re brave enough to go where your horses can’t follow!”

  She does not wait to see if they will take the bait. She knows that they will. And she knows where she is. It is not far to the deer thicket, where she can drop to the ground and hide. If she is lucky, Katharine will pass by unaware. Perhaps even close enough that Arsinoe can grab her and slit her throat.

  “Stay here!” Katharine orders. She bares her teeth and urges Half Moon past the stumbling, wounded bear, into the bushes after Arsinoe. When Half Moon breaks through the undergrowth, they are well within range, and Katharine takes aim.

  “Where do you think you are running to?” she whispers, and then fires her shot. The bolt catches Arsinoe squarely in the back. She falls with a small gasp, a sound Katharine will relish for many nights afterward. Katharine shouts her victory, then whirls Half Moon around in a circle. She could have sworn that she heard another scream come from somewhere in the trees.

  Bree claps her hands over Mirabella’s mouth, stopping her screams. Mirabella jerks and struggles, but Elizabeth is there as well, and together they wrestle her to the ground.

  Arsinoe fell. Katharine shot her in the back, and she fell. It is over.

  Hot tears slide down Mirabella’s cheeks as she watches Katharine dismount. From where they lie hidden in the ferns, Arsinoe’s body is nothing but a limp pile of black clothes.

  Katharine kicks Arsinoe in the ribs, turning her over, and Arsinoe yelps like a dog.

  “What will kill you first,” Katharine wonders, “my poison or my crossbow bolt?” She cocks her head. “No last words? No last retort?” She bends to listen. Then she laughs.

  “Let me go,” Mirabella whispers furiously.

  “No, Mira,” Bree whispers back. “Please. It is over. The bolt was poisoned. Let it be over.”

  “No,” Mirabella says, but Bree is right. Whatever she could have done for Arsinoe, she did not do it in time.

  Katharine twirls Arsinoe’s red-streaked mask around her finger.

  “What a monster that bear made of you,” Katharine says, studying Arsinoe’s exposed scarred face. “You should be glad that we killed it.”

  Arsinoe coughs. Her breathing is ragged and wet.

  “And what a monster they have made of you, little Katharine. Scars or no scars.”

  What happens next happens so quickly that Mirabella almost does not see. Juillenne Milone bursts out from the trees behind Katharine.

  “Get away from her!” she screams, and Katharine flies backward and lands with a grunt. Jules’s hand is out as though to push, but she was too far away to have touched her. Mirabella watches, unblinking, as Jules races to Arsinoe’s side, and when Katharine regains her footing, Jules does it again, knocking Katharine back through the air with an unseen force, to roll where she lands.

  “Arsinoe, put your arm around my neck. Help me, Arsinoe, hurry!”

  Jules calls Katharine’s horse and makes it kneel and heaves herself and Arsinoe into the saddle. They gallop away with Juillenne’s mountain cat loping behind on three legs, and a
ll Katharine can do is scream and pound her fists against the ground.

  Mirabella, Elizabeth, and Bree duck low as Katharine’s hunting party catches up to her.

  “Queen Katharine! Are you hurt?”

  “No.” Katharine stands up and brushes dirt and grass from her skirt. “I got her. I got Arsinoe. But that naturalist stole the body.” She stalks forward and jumps nimbly into the saddle behind a boy with ice-blond hair. One of the Arrons. “Ride, Pietyr! I will not lose my sister’s corpse!” She kicks the horse and it takes off, and the rest of the poisoners follow.

  “What was that?” Bree asks after the hoofbeats fade. “Though I have never seen it, I would swear that was the war gift.”

  “But how?” Elizabeth asks. “Jules Milone is a naturalist.”

  “I do not know.” Mirabella begins to sob. “And I do not care.” She leans against her friends and they wrap her in their arms. They are safe. She is safe. She should be grateful, but she cannot be when Arsinoe is dead.

  WOLF SPRING

  Joseph lost track of Jules and Camden almost the moment that the mountain cat caught Braddock’s scent. They were far too fast for him, and though he tried to catch up, there was no chance. So he backtracked through the forest toward the orchard, where at least he will not have to worry alone.

  He exits the wood and joins the silent, gathered crowd, slipping through people until he finds Billy beside the Milones and Matthew.

  “Someone comes!”

  “Is it Arsinoe?” Billy asks, neck stretched.

  “It’s so soon,” Cait says quietly. “Too soon.”

  And she is right. The queen who emerges from the trees is not Arsinoe but Mirabella.

  “Mira,” Billy says. “Is she all right? Is Katharine dead?”

  Joseph looks into Mirabella’s eyes and goes cold all over.

  “I am sorry,” Mirabella says. “But Queen Katharine shot her in the back.”