Lady Smoke

by Laura Sebastian

  You’re crying about your own loss while a man lies dead, I chide myself. You’re just as self-centered as the Kaiser. That only makes me cry harder.

  Erik is at a loss—I imagine he hasn’t seen many crying women during his training—but after a moment, he reaches out to pat my back awkwardly. Still, I’m grateful for his attempt.

  Outside the door, footsteps thunder by, followed by panicked shouts. The entire palace must be in an uproar.

  “Do you have a weapon?” Erik asks me, his voice low. He doesn’t take his eyes off the door.

  I nod, getting up and crossing to my bed. I’d wedged my dagger under the mattress, but now I draw it out, showing it to Erik, who eyes it appraisingly.

  “Very pretty,” he says. “Do you know how to use it?”

  I think about my lessons earlier with Artemisia, but suddenly all that feels very far away. That was a different size blade and it wasn’t even sharp. What little I did manage to learn in a single lesson suddenly seems useless—Erik is asking if I can defend myself if we’re attacked. That’s not sparring with dulled long blades, that’s life and death.

  “You should take it,” I tell him, passing it to him and retaking my seat on the sofa.

  He turns the blade over in his hands, his fingers running over the filigreed handle.

  “It’s so delicate—I think I’m likely to snap it in half if I try to use it.”

  My smile wobbles. “It’s stronger than it looks,” I say.

  More footsteps echo in the hall outside but this time they don’t pass. Erik is on his feet between me and the door, blade poised; the instant the door swings open, though, he steps aside.

  Søren leads the charge into the room, with Blaise, Heron, and Artemisia at his heels. When they see me, they all let out a collective breath of relief.

  “We heard someone was poisoned at dinner,” Blaise says, panting. “We thought…”

  He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to.

  “It was Archduke Etmond,” I say, recounting everything that happened.

  Søren swallows, his eyes finding mine. “That doesn’t make sense,” he says quietly. “Haptania doesn’t have many enemies, and even if they did, murdering Etmond wouldn’t do anyone much good. And if anyone did want him dead, they would have had an easier time doing it in Haptania, even during the months he spends in the barracks. Sta’Crivero’s security is higher.”

  “No one said anything about him being murdered,” Heron says, holding up his hands. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It could have been from natural causes.”

  “Or the poison was meant for Theo,” Artemisia says. “She is the one with a price on her head.”

  Erik frowns, looking from them back to me. “Who are these people?” he asks me.

  “Oh, right,” I say, realizing that Erik had never actually met Heron, Art, or Blaise, though they’ve seen him from afar. I make quick introductions and explain what Erik is doing in Sta’Crivero.

  “Poison is new to me,” Erik tells Heron when I’m done. “But I know what I saw, and there was nothing natural about that death.”

  Heron’s eyes widen but he gives a solemn nod.

  “And I can’t imagine that it was intended for Etmond,” Søren says, looking at me. “Artemisia is right. Of everyone in that room, you’re the most likely target.”

  “Everyone in that room is important in their country,” I say, though my voice shakes.

  “Important, yes,” Artemisia says. “But not in anyone’s way, not disliked. No one else had serious threats made against them, let alone a bounty on their head.”

  “We might not know who delivered the poison, but we know who gave the order,” Blaise says quietly.

  Though I didn’t eat anything at dinner, my stomach still flips and twists, my mind swimming in thoughts I won’t—can’t—entertain. I thought I was safe here, I thought I was finally beyond the Kaiser’s reach, I thought he would never be able to touch me again. It was a foolish hope and now a man is dead because of it. Because of me.

  * * *

  —

  It isn’t until after midnight that a sharp, official knock sounds on the door. All of us have been too tense to talk, though Artemisia has insisted on making the most of this time and practicing some more. It’s been especially fun, what with everyone watching and adding their own critiques of my posture and technique, but at least it distracts from my nerves.

  At the sound of the knock, everyone goes on alert, their weapons drawn. Artemisia switches out her practice sword for her real one.

  “Back corner of the room,” Blaise says to me, and I hurry to oblige, my heart pounding in my chest even though I realize, logically, that an assassin wouldn’t bother knocking.

  Sure enough, when Heron opens the door, it’s only one of the King’s guards. Even he looks on edge, though, eyes darting around the room as if expecting an attack to come at any moment.

  “Queen Theodosia,” he says, looking at me. If he thinks it strange that I’m cowering in the corner, he doesn’t show it. “The threat has been secured. If you’ll join King Etristo in the throne room, you can see the fiend for yourself.”

  THE GUARD LEADS ME INTO the throne room; Søren, Erik, and my Shadows follow at my heels. I must be growing jaded by all the Sta’Criveran opulence, because the room’s frescoed walls, marble floors, and ornate gold chandeliers barely register in my mind. All I see is the throne at the center, so large and hulking that at first I don’t even notice King Etristo’s frail frame. He practically disappears into the plush velvet cushion.

  I walk up the aisle between the rows of seats, feeling the suitors’ eyes on me as I pass. We must be the last ones here, because every seat in the audience chamber is filled, apart from a few chairs in the front and one with the Gorakian delegation that Erik takes. What are these people looking for? Grief? Fear? Though I feel both of those things, I am mostly just numb. They all look wary and suspicious, as if whoever poisoned the archduke is sitting right beside them. A terrifying thought that I try to dismiss.

  The guard escorts us to the front row of chairs and we take them, Søren on one side of me, Artemisia on the other.

  “There you are, my dear,” King Etristo says with his usual condescending smile. He sits up a little straighter in his throne. “I’m happy to say that we caught the person responsible for the Archduke’s murder.”

  Murder. So he is dead. What scrap of hope I’d been clinging to shrivels and dies. I didn’t know him well enough to truly mourn him, not after everyone else who has been taken from me, but I still feel his death like a sharp jab between my ribs. Though I hate myself for it, I mourn the loss of his promise more. I mourn how close I came to reclaiming Astrea, only to have it snatched away once again.

  “Who was responsible?” I ask

  King Etristo claps his hands twice. A different guard enters through the door behind the throne, escorting a girl in manacles. It takes a moment for me to recognize her as the attendant from earlier, the fearful one who delivered my letter just this afternoon, who poured the wine for the Archduke and me. Her eyes are even more terrified now, rapidly roving across the room, looking for a friendly face. She doesn’t find one.

  I clear my throat and look back at King Etristo. “Of course I trust your judgment, Your Highness, but what ill will could this girl bear toward the Archduke?”

  The King’s smile is grim. “That, my dear, is precisely what we’re here to find out.” He turns to where Chancellor Marzen and his sister are sitting. “Salla Coltania,” he says. “I understand you’ve brought us truth serum from Oriana.”

  Coltania stands up from her place beside her brother in the row behind me. Her face is pale and her expression drawn tight. “Yes, Your Highness,” she says, voice wavering. “We always keep it on hand while traveling, in case we need to discover if any strangers mean us harm
. Of course, we never expected something like this.”

  “None of us did, my dear,” he says with a sigh before gesturing her forward. “I’ll leave it to you to administer, as you are the professional.”

  Coltania steps toward the attendant girl with a vial in hand, and the girl immediately begins fighting against the guard holding her bound hands—as if there’s any way she can flee. Unbidden, I think of Elpis in a similar situation. Elpis didn’t deserve what was in that vial, though, and this girl does. It won’t kill her, only bring forth the truth. Why would she fight so hard if she has nothing to hide?

  Coltania forces the potion down her throat and the fight leaves the girl’s body. She slumps back against the guard holding her, blinking uncertainly.

  “It will take a minute to work,” Coltania says to King Etristo.

  If it truly is only a minute, it stretches on for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Coltania speaks again, this time to the girl.

  “Please state your name,” she says.

  The girl swallows, looking like she’s coming out of a daze. “Rania,” she says quietly.

  Coltania inspects the girl’s pupils and measures the pulse at her wrist before nodding to King Etristo. “You may proceed,” she says.

  King Etristo leans forward, eyes on the girl. “Did you poison the Archduke’s food?” he asks her.

  “No,” she says, sounding dreamy and faraway, like she’s on the other side of a glass wall. “I poisoned the wine.”

  A murmur goes through everyone gathered, even my Shadows. After all, I drank the wine—everyone did.

  “With what?” King Etristo asks.

  The girl’s eyes dart around the room before landing on the King once again, struggling to remain focused. “With poison,” she says, sounding confused. “I don’t know what kind, it’s what I was given.”

  “Given by whom?” King Etristo asks.

  She swallows. The truth serum makes her wobbly on her feet and she lurches side to side, steadied by the guard. “The Kaiser,” she says. “The Kaiser sent it, with payment.”

  More murmurs, but this time I’m numb to them. It’s no more than I expected, but hearing her confirmation feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. I almost don’t hear what she says next.

  “He won’t stop,” she says, voice beginning to slur. “He won’t stop until she’s dead.” She lifts her manacled hands and points to me.

  The ground drops out beneath me and I almost fall out of my chair, but Artemisia’s hand on my arm anchors me.

  The girl sways harder on her feet until the guard is struggling to keep her standing. Her head lolls from side to side.

  King Etristo looks to Coltania. “Is this normal?” he asks her.

  Coltania is bewildered. She steps toward the girl and grabs her forcefully by the chin, wrenching her jaw open. The words she mutters under her breath aren’t ones I can translate, though I’m sure they’re curses.

  “Her tongue is black. Spit!” she commands, her voice sharp.

  The girl blinks in confusion before doing as she’s told and spitting on the ground. The spit is tar black but there is something else there as well. Coltania crouches down, touching the spit and rubbing a bit of it between her fingers. She holds it up close to her eye.

  “Shards of glass,” Coltania says, wiping the spit on the hem of her dress. She looks up at King Etristo. “A poison pill she must have had in her mouth since before you arrested her. Given to her to take if she was questioned,” she explains to him.

  Then why did she only just take it? Why didn’t she take it as soon as the guards arrested her?

  Before I can follow that line of thought, King Etristo’s voice pierces the air in a panicked shout. “What are you waiting for? Save her.”

  Coltania looks at the girl and shakes her head sadly. “I can’t,” she says. “She was dead the moment she broke the capsule. There’s no cure for deathdrake. She only has a moment left and she won’t be lucid for it. There’s nothing to do but let it take her.”

  Black foam begins pouring out of the girl’s mouth and she sags against the guard, tremors rocking through her. I wish I could ask her why she did it, if it was just the money or if there was malice there as well. I wish I could understand what new game the Kaiser is playing from his throne across the ocean. But the life is already leaving her eyes and I can’t watch another person die.

  I say a silent prayer to the gods and get to my feet, my advisors following a second later. I start to make my way out of the room, but King Etristo’s voice stops me.

  “Just a moment, my dear,” he says, though there is no cloying sweetness to his voice now. Instead he sounds angry and panicked, like a cornered animal. Distantly, I know that is what makes him dangerous, but I force myself to turn back toward him.

  “Yes, Your Highness?” I say.

  Instead of responding, the King leans down toward his guards and murmurs something I can’t make out, gesturing toward me before getting to his feet. As he exits the throne room, the guards come toward us. I notice only an instant too late that they draw their weapons.

  “Prinz Søren, by the order of King Etristo you are under arrest for the murder of Archduke Etmond.”

  Without thinking about their drawn weapons or the suitors still present, I step between the approaching guards and a shell-shocked Søren.

  “Prinz Søren was not responsible for the poisoning of the Archduke,” I say, enunciating each word carefully so that the entire throne room can hear me. “If Søren wanted to kill me, he’s had plenty of opportunities to do so,” I say. “He wouldn’t use something as cowardly as poison, and if he had, I’m sure he’d have succeeded in properly killing me.”

  It hardly feels like a solid defense, even to my own ears.

  “I’ll go willingly,” Søren says quietly, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. “I did nothing wrong and I’m sure King Etristo will see that.”

  He moves to step toward the guards, both his hands held up and clearly visible. Before I know what I’m doing, I reach out and grab his hand, forcing him to turn back to face me. It’s only then that I remember that we are not alone and that there are a dozen suitors watching who will read far too much into one simple touch. I pull my hand away quickly and let it fall to my side.

  “We’ll get you out,” I tell him quietly. “I did it once, I’ll do it again.”

  Søren’s smile is brittle, but he at least pretends to believe me as the guards clap bejeweled manacles onto his wrists and drag him away.

  “HE IS PART OF MY council,” I tell King Etristo, struggling to get the words past my clenched teeth. “When you promised me protection, I was under the impression that that protection applied to my entire party.”

  From his place behind his large marble desk, King Etristo barely spares me a glance. He gives a beleaguered sigh and rolls his eyes skyward. It’s hardly respectful, but he doesn’t see me as an equal so much as he sees me as female body who speaks far more than strictly necessary. He wouldn’t even meet with me until after he’d had breakfast, which means Søren has been stuck in a Sta’Criveran prison for eight hours.

  “As I have explained several times already, my dear, I cannot guarantee the safety of those who break Sta’Crivero’s laws. Do you not consider murder against the law in Astrea?”

  Warmth seeps through my skin until my hands begin to feel hot. I ball them into fists at my sides, though that does little to smother the heat. The warmth coursing through my veins grows hotter every time he says the words my dear. I force myself to take deep breaths. Nothing like the singed sheets has happened since we left the ship—only the occasional heat in my hands and arms—and I can almost convince myself I imagined the whole thing, but at times like this I know I didn’t. I feel the fire inside me and I know that if it gets out now…I can’t let it.

&nbs
p; “Of course we do,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm and level. I look to Heron, Blaise, and Artemisia standing behind me before turning back to the King. “But such a serious accusation requires proof and you have provided none apart from his bloodline. If that is a good enough reason to imprison someone, I’m surprised your prisons aren’t overflowing.”

  King Etristo steeples his fingers atop his desk and the sheaf of papers that I suspect he was only pretending to read to avoid me. “As we speak, Salla Coltania is instructing my apothecaries in how to make another draught of truth serum. I understand the process can take some time,” he says. “If that clears his name, I will release him with my humblest apologies, but one can’t be too careful with your safety, my dear. Especially since, as I understand it, he was spending quite a few nights in your bedroom.”

  The implication in his voice makes me blush and I’m glad my Shadows are the only ones who hear him, though I’m sure that bit of gossip has already taken root, no doubt helped along by my own actions in the throne room. I stepped between Søren and the armed guards, after all.

  “Two nights,” I say before gesturing to my three Shadows. “Along with the rest of my advisors. If he’d truly wanted me dead, there would have been no easier time for him to accomplish it than when I was asleep.”

  The corners of the King’s mouth pull down into a deep frown, and he finally looks at me. “Well, then Salla Coltania’s potion should clear him of all charges and he will be let go in just a few days,” he says, as if speaking to an irritating child.

  I want to scream, but instead I force a smile. “Very well,” I say tightly. “But since Prinz Søren was my trusted advisor on matters of international affairs, I can’t in good conscience meet with any suitors until he is free to advise me. You understand, of course? I must protect my interests.”

  King Etristo looks like he wishes he could strike me, but after a second, a pleasant mask falls into place.

  “If you insist, my dear,” he says. “Though I worry your lack of trust will be seen as a slight.”