by Effie Calvin
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Gaelle. “You left Rhodia so quickly, after all. That’s hardly remarkable, all my children seem to run from me, but…yes. You think establishing a Silence here would give me a foothold. And you don’t want that. You’re having such a lovely time, after all. If I was around, trying to hold you to my standards, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.”
Esofi said nothing.
“You thought you’d outrun me, hadn’t you?” asked Gaelle. “Don’t you realize I’m the one who sent you here in the first place? You’re exactly where I’ve always intended you to be. But do not flatter yourself. My desire for a Silence has nothing to do with you. It is purely for the veneration of Talcia.”
“I do not believe you.”
“What other motive would I have? You think I care anything for this miserable country of mud and sheep and impertinent peasants when my own kingdom is so very near to perfection? Or did you think I sought power over you, as though I do not have that already?” Gaelle reached forward, and Esofi flinched away instinctively, all thoughts of calling up a protective barrier scattering like frightened mice. But Gaelle’s hand had not been raised in anger. Instead, she curled her fingers around Esofi’s chin and held it.
“I could break you so easily,” said Gaelle. There was no malice in her voice, only calm certainty. “But what in the world would I do with the pieces?”
Chapter Seven
ADALE
When Esofi returned, she looked so unwell that Adale thought someone might have died. At the sight of her, Adale dropped the papers she’d been reading and leapt to her feet, but Esofi waved her away, saying she was only exhausted.
Nevertheless, Adale helped her to the sofa. Once seated, Esofi rested her head back and closed her eyes. “It’s just been a long day. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, just…” One of Esofi’s hands struggled, listlessly, with the clasp at her cloak, then appeared to give up and flopped down into her lap. “It’s so warm in here.”
“Let me help you,” Adale said. “Have you eaten yet? I’ll have someone bring us something.”
“I don’t think I’m hungry,” said Esofi, standing up partway so that Adale could pull her cloak free. Once it was done, she sank down onto the pillows again.
“Well, I am, so you may have the privilege of watching me eat.” Adale paused when this elicited no response. “Esofi?”
Esofi’s eyes stared blankly ahead at nothing.
“Esofi?” repeated Adale.
“It’s so warm in here,” mumbled Esofi.
Then she tilted forward and collapsed onto the floor.
Adale cried out in shock and lunged forward, struggling to lift Esofi off the floor. To her horror, Esofi’s skin was icy cold to the touch.
“Mireille!” Adale cried. “Lisette!”
But Lisette was gone. Adale clenched her hand into a fist and punched the floor in frustration. The door flew open, and Mireille and Svana both stared down at her in shock.
“I’ll—I’ll get a priest!” cried Mireille, bolting from the room immediately, stumbling over her own skirt in her haste. By contrast, Svana appeared as though she was still taking in the sight before her.
“Don’t just stand there!” snapped Adale.
“What do you want me to do, then?” Svana retorted.
Adale hesitated, realizing Svana had a point. But she would never admit that. “Help me get her up,” she said. “Onto the couch.”
It was not easy work, but by the time Mireille returned with a white-robed priest of Adranus, Esofi was laying on the couch instead of the carpet. Adale crouched beside her, one hand feeling desperately for the pulse in her neck.
“What happened?” asked the priest, coming to kneel by Adale. She shifted out of the way for him.
“I don’t know. She was sitting with me, and then she fainted.”
The priest did not respond immediately, but she could see white light already gathering at his hands. He pressed his fingers to Esofi’s forehead, then her neck, and then her stomach.
Adale was used to priests examining injuries, nodding, and recommending bed-rest or some other treatment. But this time, the priest did not nod.
“Send for an alchemist,” he said.
“What?” Adale’s stomach lurched. “Why? Can’t you heal her? Why do you need an alchemist?”
Instead of answering, the priest pulled a glass bottle from his bag. Adale watched as he removed the lid, which had a long glass rod protruding from the underside, not unlike a perfume bottle. He held it just below Esofi’s nose.
Esofi’s entire body shuddered, and she spat up an ugly yellow bile. The priest did not seem at all disturbed by this and simply turned her head so that she would not choke on it. Behind Adale, Svana gasped.
“This is not an illness,” the priest said. “I am not an alchemist, Crown Princess. That is why I have asked for one. And I hope she tells me that I am incorrect in my suspicion. But I believe Princess Esofi may have been poisoned.”
Adale’s head swam. She dug her fingertips into the carpet to right herself. “What?”
“An alchemist could tell us for certain,” the priest was infuriatingly calm. “And she would know better treatments than I. I sincerely hope I am mistaken. But I do not believe I am.”
“That can’t be right,” whispered Adale. “Who would—why would—” Everyone loved Esofi. What would anyone stand to gain from her death? Rage gathered inside Adale’s chest like a fire.
“I’ll send for an alchemist,” Mireille said quickly, hurrying back out of the room.
“We need to lock down the castle,” said Adale, more to herself than anyone else. “The whole city. Once I find out who did this…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on Svana. “Maybe it won’t be much of a search.”
“What?” cried Svana. “You think I—how dare you—”
“Who else would have done it?” demanded Adale.
“Why would I poison Esofi? How would that help me?” Svana retorted.
“As though you need a reason!”
“If I was going to poison someone, it would be you!”
“Maybe you meant to,” said Adale. “Maybe Esofi ate something meant for me. Is that it? You thought maybe if you got rid of me, she’d marry one of you?”
“You’re mad,” said Svana. “I’m not going to stand here and let you accuse me of—”
“Princess Esofi needs peace if she is to recover,” interrupted the priest. “Please, take your dispute elsewhere.”
Adale stormed out of the room. Svana followed her, but Adale was not thinking about her anymore. If Svana had poisoned Esofi, there would be time to kill her later. But if Svana was innocent, the castle needed to be sealed off. She would catch the culprit, even if she had to hunt him down herself.
“Where is Captain Lehmann?” Adale demanded of the first set of guards she found, posted at the end of the hallway. “We have an assassin in the castle.” At least, Adale sincerely hoped they were still in the castle. Perhaps they had fled hours ago. But she refused to consider that possibility. “I don’t want anyone leaving the grounds until we’ve caught him, no matter what their station.” If anyone took issue with her edict, they could complain to Adale directly.
Looking back on the day later, Adale knew that things had happened very quickly. People all over the castle had been unceremoniously ushered out of the halls and entire areas were closed off. And Captain Lehmann was beside her in minutes. But those minutes had been crawling, sickeningly slow as Adale struggled not to imagine some awful poison sinking deeper and deeper into Esofi’s heart.
“We will find the one who did this,” Captain Lehmann swore. “No matter the cost.”
“Bring them to me,” said Adale. “I want to kill them with my own hands.” Her voice felt like it was not her own. Her body felt like it was not her own. Perhaps she was dreaming.
A strong hand wrapped itself around her shoulder, and she
stared up into her father’s face.
“Is it true?” he asked.
Adale nodded.
“Come with me,” he said.
“But I need to—”
“There is nothing you can do that is not already being done,” Dietrich interrupted. “Trust our healers and our guards. We must discuss this immediately.”
Adale reluctantly followed him. They had never had an assassin at Birsgen in Adale’s lifetime. Accidents happened, certainly, along with fights with both magic and blade when tempers ran hot. But never attempted murder. Never assassins.
Dietrich led her to her parents’ room. The outer chamber was surprisingly empty, but he brought her to their private bedroom anyway. Her mother was waiting for them there.
Once the door was closed behind them, Saski pressed her hands to it, murmuring words too soft for Adale to catch. Soft lavender light, Pemele’s magic, glowed at her hands for the briefest moment. The light spread out, enveloping the entire room for just a moment before vanishing.
Adale did not frequently think about Saski’s blessing. She had only ever really seen her use it to make little charms or sew protective magic directly into her children’s clothes. Pemele’s magic was soft and subtle, just like Pemele herself. Some of it was so unremarkable that Adale wondered if it was really magic at all. And it had limitations too. Much of it only worked on members of Saski’s own family.
“Tell me what happened,” commanded Saski.
“I don’t know. She was fine…she was sitting…and then she just collapsed. The priest said he thought it was poisoned, so I called the guards. I want to question everyone in the castle. Someone has to know who did this.”
“Do you have any suspicions?” asked Dietrich.
“I…I think it might have been the twins.” But deep down, she did not believe that, not really. It was only her dislike of them that made her name them. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Breathe,” said Saski. “Think. Who would benefit from this?”
“Nobody!”
“That is not true, Adale,” said Dietrich. “There is no one in this castle so unimportant that nobody could benefit from their death.”
“I don’t know. Everyone likes her, don’t they? Nobody’s ever threatened her.” Adale shook her head. “Were they hoping that if they got rid of her, they’d be able to marry me and rule Ieflaria?”
“That is one possibility,” said Saski. “But I believe the timing of this is significant. What has happened in the last week? The dragons sent a messenger to us, and Esofi’s mother arrived in Ieflaria.”
“Gaelle.” Adale’s eyes narrowed. “You think Gaelle did it?”
“No, I—”
“To steal Carinth,” Adale realized. “Of course. She knows Esofi will never let her take him, so she—”
“Adale!” Saski snapped. “Listen to me! If Gaelle wanted Esofi dead, she would be dead already! For once, consider the situation. Chasing every whim that comes into your head will not bring anyone to justice.”
Adale could feel the heat rushing to her face. “If you’ve just brought me here to insult me, there’re better ways I can be using my time.”
“I am attempting to communicate with you,” said Saski. “You think you’re the only one who loves Esofi? She is my daughter as much as you are. I want to see this assassin caught, and that will not happen if we are not careful with our next moves.”
“You think you know who it was, don’t you?” asked Adale.
Her parents both glanced at each other, and she knew she had guessed correctly. “Who? Tell me!”
“No,” said Saski. “I won’t have you rushing to confront them before we have evidence and undermining—”
“Just tell me!” cried Adale. Tears leaked down her cheeks, and that only made her angrier. She wiped them away furiously. But Saski was not impressed.
“I. Will. Have. Justice,” said Saski. “What I will not have is your determination to turn this investigation into a farce, do you understand me? It was my hope that you could be a part of this process, but now I see you are too close to the situation for such a thing to be possible.”
Adale turned on her heel and stormed from the room, unable to keep her tears in any longer.
But if the culprit wasn’t Gaelle, and it wasn’t the twins, then who could it be?
When she entered her room again, Mireille was hovering just outside the bedroom, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.
“I didn’t know which temple you wanted, so I got them both,” she said. “I hope that’s all right.”
As Adale pushed past her, she saw what Mireille had meant. Two women stood at Esofi’s bedside. One was young and dressed in a pale-green robe, her hair in a single strict braid and coiled around the back of her head. Slung across her chest was the strap of a large leather satchel. The other woman was middle-aged, and her robe was such a dark shade of green Adale initially mistook it for black. A short, hilted dagger hung at her waist.
“How is she?” asked Adale.
The two women glanced at each other, and the one in the lighter robe stepped forward.
“Crown Princess, I am Linza, priestess of the Temple of Adalia,” she said, bobbing her head as she bent her knee slightly. “I am happy to tell you that Princess Esofi will live. She did not ingest enough of the poison to do serious damage to herself.”
Adale swallowed. “Do you know anything else?”
“The plant is called the Bone Rose, though it is not a true rose. The blossoms are yellow or white in color and harmless. The roots can be made into a slow-acting poison. It was probably powdered and mixed in with something she ate today,” said the other woman. Then she nodded her head respectfully. “I am Githea, of the Temple of Rikilda.”
“How did this happen?” whispered Adale. Neither of the women answered, perhaps knowing the question was not meant for them. “Both of you—will you stay here, until she is recovered?”
“We will examine everything she is brought for further attempts at poisoning,” said Githea.
“I’ll send guards as well,” said Adale. But could guards be trusted?
Adale shook herself. She had to be rational. If they couldn’t trust the guards, they couldn’t trust anyone. Nevertheless, she would specifically ask for senior members, those who had proven themselves time and again over the years.
How many people were in the castle? Hundreds? It would take weeks to interview them all. Not just servants and guards, but nobles and merchants and ambassadors and artists and visiting dignitaries…
Adale moved closer to Esofi. She appeared to be asleep, and her skin was unnaturally pale. Adale rested one hand against Esofi’s face and nearly recoiled at how cold she was. Rage flared up in her chest again. She would kill whoever was responsible for this crime, no matter what her parents said.
“Crown Princess?” said Githea.
Adale looked up. “What?”
“Where is her attendant?”
“What?”
Githea glanced over at Linza, as though she was reluctant to speak in front of the other priestess. Then she said, “Where is the girl who protects her?”
“You mean Lisette?” Adale’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. What would a priestess from a minor temple know of Esofi’s waiting ladies? “Why do you ask?”
“If she is gone, the temple will provide a replacement.”
Linza gave a small, disapproving sniff, but did not say anything.
“Then you…” Adale supposed it made sense. Rikilda was secretive and dispassionate and possibly evil, just like Lisette. “Was Lisette a priestess?”
“No,” said Githea. “Am I to take it she is no longer in Birsgen?”
“Esofi sent her off on an assignment over a week ago,” said Adale. “She should have been back by now, but…”
Githea pressed her lips together disapprovingly. “For shame. On behalf of the Temple of Rikilda and the Nightshades, I apologize for the lapse in service. You will have a replacement b
y sundown.”
“No—that—that won’t be…” Adale shook her head, overwhelmed and more than a bit confused. “No replacement. Not yet.” Despite Githea’s apparently earnest desire to help, Adale could not quite bring herself to trust the Temple of Rikilda or whatever sister organization Lisette was affiliated with. And she did not want to bring yet another stranger in while Esofi was so weak. “Our guards will be enough for now.”
She turned away from the bed, already thinking of what she would say to Captain Lehmann when she found him. Out in the hallway, the sight of all the extra guards posted should have reassured her, but for some reason it only made her feel worse.
“Crown Princess?” said a voice from behind her. Adale turned to see that Githea had followed her out.
Adale held in a sigh of impatience. “What?”
Githea gestured for her to come nearer. Once Adale was close enough for her to whisper, she said, “Two of the women Queen Gaelle brought with her from Rhodia are also Nightshades.”
Adale’s eyes narrowed.
“One is dressed as an Archmage,” said Githea. “And the other a serving-maid. But fabric falls differently when there is leather armor hidden beneath it. I only saw them once, when she entered the city for the very first time.”
“Are you allowed to tell me that?”
“Certainly not,” said Githea. “But I think Rikilda will forgive me, since I am telling you for the benefit of her temple.”
“You want something from me?”
“Yes,” said Githea. “In two or three decades from now, when you sit on your father’s throne and the Temple of Iolar tells you they believe Rikilda ought to be classified as a chaos goddess, I want you to remember this day.”
Adale must have appeared unconvinced because Githea added, “We are gardeners, Crown Princess. Leave us to our flowers. We work at dusk, but we are not evil. We keep our promises, and we are loyal to the crown. The Temple of Iolar struggles with nuance, and so they cannot see the good we do.”
“The Temple of Iolar wants you gone?”
“Of course they do,” said Githea. “And it’s not just us—anyone who doesn’t fit into their narrow idea of lawfulness. I don’t expect your patronage or your favor. I just want you to know we are not what some might claim.”