She scanned the letter, checking that she had written nothing objectionable, nothing that could be used against her. The stubborn part of her flinched away from involving Finnegan, but she knew that she could not humiliate the king and escape without a little outside help. If she was going to do this, she needed him.
Leaving the note unsealed, so anyone could see how innocent it was, she hurried to the locked door. “Excuse me,” she said in her sweetest, most harmlessly regal voice. “Sir Lanford, Sir Richard?”
“They are no longer here,” a voice said. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
“I have a message for Prince Finnegan.”
There was an uncertain pause. “Princess, we cannot unlock this door. You are to stay here until tomorrow.”
“I know,” she said. “I do not wish to go anywhere. But Finnegan requested a meeting with me today, before the wedding, and I would hate to disappoint him. So would the king and queen, I am sure. I simply want to inform him that I am willing to meet with him whenever he is available. If you could take a note to him from me, I would greatly appreciate it.”
Another pause. “Slide your note under the door,” the guard said eventually. “I will see that he receives it.”
For a moment, she considered it. Then she stopped. “No,” she said. Finnegan had once told her that important people could do as they liked. It was time to test how important they considered her. “I am the princess, not some prisoner passing secret messages through gaps in the wall. You will open this door, and you will take this message to Finnegan, and if he requests it, you will escort him back here yourself. Do you understand me?”
He did not reply for a long time. Then the locks clicked. “As you wish, Princess.”
“Thank you.” She passed the paper through the narrow gap in the door. “Please tell Finnegan that I look forward to seeing him soon.”
The guard bowed. “Of course, Princess,” he said. Then the door closed with a dull thud. She remained close to it, listening to the sound of his footsteps fading down the stairs.
She did not wait long. Barely any time seemed to have passed before the door swung open again, and Finnegan stepped into the room.
“What a pleasure to see you again,” he said as the door closed behind him. “I haven’t been in this room for . . . oh, three years at least. Have you finally decided my kiss was what you’d been dreaming of all these years?”
“Yes,” she said sharply. “That is exactly why I sent for you on the day before my wedding. To declare my secret love for you.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “Sadly, I must decline your advances. Politics, you know.” He looked around the room. “Strange choice,” he added. “Stairs in a fireplace. I don’t recall seeing them before.”
“You must not have looked closely enough.”
“Perhaps not,” he said. “There were far more interesting things to hold my attention.” He gave her the same searching look he had given her so many times before, casual yet discerning, like he already knew everything she could possibly think or say or do. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” he finally said. “It cost me a fair few silvers to get here, you know, despite your reckless invitation. I hope it will be worth my while.”
“I hope so too.” She grabbed his arm and led him farther away from the door, away from any listening ears. “I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds intriguing.”
“I want you to help disrupt my wedding.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Does that mean you are accepting my offer of an alliance?” he said. “What a team we’ll make.”
“No,” she said. “It doesn’t. This would be a temporary arrangement.”
“Then what, may I ask, would be in this scheme for me?”
“I will be in your debt,” she said. “And you’ll get to humiliate King John. But the benefit to you should be irrelevant. Either you’re my ally or you’re not.”
“I am, of course. What precisely are you thinking?”
“A distraction,” she said. “I need you to provide a distraction as the wedding starts. Something to attract the attention of the guards.”
“Attract attention away from you? Impossible.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “I’m not planning to be subtle. I’ll walk up in front of the crowd, say what I mean to say, have all eyes on me . . . and then I need you to take their eyes off me. For as long as you’re able.”
“Anything more specific?”
“You’re smart,” she said. “You’ll think of something.”
“Why, Aurora,” he said. “You flatter me. And what will you do with this distraction? Kill the king? Burn the castle to the ground?”
A tiny part of her, hot and terrifying, stirred at the idea. She could make the king suffer, like she had suffered, like the prisoners, like Isabelle. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t. “No,” she said. “I’ll run.”
“That doesn’t sound very dramatic.”
“I don’t want to be dramatic,” she said. “I want to leave.”
He chuckled. “Then why wait until the wedding to run? If you want to leave, I could probably get you out tonight. Just say the word. It’ll be so much easier, so much less risky.”
She did not reply.
“See?” he said. “You’re not as sweet as you pretend. But don’t worry. I’ll help. I have a few ideas. Just give the sign tomorrow, and help will be there. But tell me. How, exactly, do you plan to leave the city after you run?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
He smiled. “Of course you will. But in case that doesn’t work out for you, I have a suggestion. Western edge of the city, beyond the slums, there’s an old drainage tunnel through the walls. Just past the main tower, near the drunken fairy. Small, but you’re not exactly large yourself. It should get you where you need to go. And I will leave you some supplies nearby, if you like. Help you on your way.”
She could hardly refuse him. “Thank you,” she said.
“Of course. You’re full of surprises, Aurora. I look forward to seeing what else you might do.” He gave her a sweeping bow. “Until the morning then.”
“Wait,” she said as he turned away. She remembered the last time she had stood in front of the crowd, the blood and the screaming filled her mind. “No one can get hurt.”
“You truly are an innocent, aren’t you?”
He left before she could reply.
She stared at the door for a long time after he had gone. She knew she should try to sleep, grab whatever extra energy she could, but she felt too fidgety, too alert, to stay still for long. She began pacing again, running through every possible scenario in her head. Trying to ignore Finnegan’s chilling last words.
She would not turn back now.
Resting her hands against the windowsill, she stared down at the city where a forest had once stood and tried to imagine what might await her in the world beyond.
TWENTY-SEVEN
THE DOOR DID NOT OPEN AGAIN UNTIL DAWN PEEKED in through the window. The king strode in, surrounded by guards.
“Aurora,” he said with a smile, as though they were meeting for a casual breakfast and a chat. “I trust you slept well. Big day today!” He clapped a friendly hand on her shoulder, his thumb digging into her neck. “Are you ready for your wedding?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said. Her voice barely shook.
“Excellent,” he said. “Excellent. Well, we had better get you cleaned up, if you are to look beautiful for the crowd. Guards, take her to my own chambers. We can’t have all the dust in this tower ruining her dress, and we wouldn’t want anyone to get the chance to interrupt our happy day before it has begun, now, would we?”
She sank into a curtsy, trying to breathe through her clenched teeth. Pretending was easier, now that she was resolved, now that she knew what she wanted and needed and planned to do. One guard took either arm, the others walking
so close that she almost tumbled over her own feet to keep pace with them as they climbed down the winding staircase, through empty corridors, and toward the king’s private rooms.
Guards blocked the door, inside and out. They stood by the screen as a girl—another stranger—bathed her and changed her into her wedding dress. They hovered by her shoulder as the maids arranged her hair. Keep smiling, she told herself. Keep pretending. Wait for the right moment.
Someone knocked sharply on the door, and a guard wrenched it open. Prince Finnegan entered. Aurora struggled to keep her expression neutral, but her throat tightened in panic. Had something gone wrong with their plan? Or was he already planning to betray her?
“I wish to give my regards to the princess,” he said to the guard who hovered by her shoulder. “Wish her luck on this most joyous of days.” The guard nodded—he could hardly refuse—and Finnegan swept forward to take Aurora’s hand. “You are a vision, Aurora.”
The guards were watching them closely. She sank into a curtsy, letting her curls fall over her eyes.
“I bought you a gift,” he said. A necklace looped through the fingers of his free hand. A small silver dragon hung from the chain, wings unfurled, head thrown back in a silent roar. Light reflected off the delicate, fearsome detail in its neck, creating the illusion that it was shifting, rippling like water. Its eyes gleamed red. “A small trinket from my kingdom,” he said. “It will tell anyone who sees it that you are a true friend of Vanhelm, and of mine.” He spoke kindly, casually, but his intent hovered beneath, sharp and sure. Wear this, he said, and I will know you. Seal our deal with this. “May I?”
She nodded, too tense to speak. He slipped behind her, brushing her hair aside, allowing his hands to linger at the nape of her neck as he fastened the clasp. The dragon was surprisingly warm against her skin. It settled above her heart.
“It suits you.”
She gave him another curtsy. “Thank you for your kindness,” she said. “It—it is beautiful.”
“Ah, but not as beautiful as you.” He raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against her skin. His fingers curled along the inside of her palm, and something small and rough fell into the curve of her knuckles. His grin was decidedly mischievous as he stepped back. “Enjoy your day,” he said. “I will count the moments until we meet again.”
“It will be a pleasure,” Aurora murmured. She clutched whatever he had placed in her hand—parchment, it felt like. I need him, she thought, as he bowed and turned to leave. He was loathsome where Rodric was sweet, but maybe to do the right thing, she would have to be loathsome too. She slipped the piece of parchment underneath the thick, pearly ribbon around her waist.
The queen appeared a few minutes later. She too was closely trailed by a guard. She stared at Aurora with her clear brown eyes, her face wan with grief, a pinch in her lips.
“You look beautiful, dear,” she said, running a hand through Aurora’s curls. She sounded almost sad. “You will make a lovely bride.”
Aurora stared at her own reflection. She looked pale, pained, white skin hidden behind gleaming golden curls. The perfect tragic princess. Not exactly a happy ending, she thought. But perhaps people would not notice. Or perhaps they would not care. As long as they got one story or another.
One of the guards put a firm hand on her arm. “Time to go, Princess,” he said. She nodded, and her suffocating escort led her out into the corridors again. She kept her head down, letting her curls hide her face. Her heartbeat quaked. The world felt sharp, each second distinct and new, but the guards left her no room to breathe, forcing her along at a stumbling pace. In the time it took to blink, she was standing in the entrance hall of the castle, and the king had his arm around the curve of her waist, his fingers digging into her stomach. She struggled to stop herself from flinching away.
“Come along then, my dear,” he said with the same hungry smile as before. “Let’s make you one of the family.”
Disgust rose in her throat, and she bit the inside of her lip, trying to catch the feeling, build it into something she could use. Not helpless. Angry. Blood rushed through her ears, drowning out the comments of the guards and the roar of the crowd and the music floating in through the doors.
She felt herself moving forward, through the doors and out into the sunlight. Spots burst before her eyes. A huge crowd had gathered in the square, climbing on rooftops, spilling out into the streets beyond, but they were much farther back than the last time Aurora had stood here, separated from the royal family and the rows of honored, noble guests by a wall of guards. She looked over the crowd, and saw a boy who might have been Tristan, but he was too far away for her to be certain. She tore her eyes away from him. He was not part of this now.
Rodric stood at the top of the steps, underneath an archway of roses that looked as though it had fallen out of an illustration in her book. He did not turn to look at her as she approached.
She reached for his hand, slipping her fingers between his own. She felt a rush of something in her chest—of gratitude, of friendship, of remorse for what she was about to do. She could not tell him now. She could not apologize. But at least she could give him something like good-bye.
She let go.
“I have something to say,” she said. She spoke so quietly that she doubted many people heard her, but Rodric stared down at her, and the king stepped closer, his hand curling under her lowest rib.
“Now, now, my dear,” he said. “There’ll be time for speeches later.”
“No.” She stepped away from him, her voice louder. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the queen, watching her with a steady expression on her face. “I need to say it now.”
“Aurora,” the king said, reaching for her again, but she slipped away, turning to address the crowd. Everyone was staring at her, and the attention made her stomach constrict, but she pushed back the feeling. She had to do this. She had to.
“I—I am honored that you all came here today,” she said. “And that you have put so much faith in me. Things here—they’re very different from what I remember. And what I’ve been hearing—all I’ve been hearing—is that people want change. No more hunger. No more rebellions. No more wars. And everyone seems to think that I’m the one to change all that.” She could hear every word that she spoke, sharp and clear, ringing out over the crowd, like some other girl was speaking them, some girl who was confident and honest and unafraid. “I don’t know how to change things,” she said. “I don’t know what the right thing to do will be. But I want to help. I want to make things better. And I don’t think—this isn’t the right way.” She glanced at Rodric. He was staring at her, his face pale. “Rodric is wonderful,” she said, “but marrying him . . . it won’t make things better. It won’t change anything. It will only keep things exactly as they have been.” She wanted to speak out against the king, but she swallowed the words. She would be dignified and assured. She would not say anything that he could turn against her. “So I’m leaving,” she said, “until things become clear. Please believe me when I say that I am not abandoning you. But I need to go. I need to find out what the right thing to do will be.”
Silence. Then the king laughed, the sound a little too loud. “Dear Aurora,” he said. “Our bride has cold feet.” He turned to the crowd. “We all must show her our support, help her get over her nerves!”
The crowd did not respond. The king grabbed her arm, squeezing her wrist painfully tight. “You will do as you are told,” he said in a low, threatening voice. “And then you will pay for this little show.”
“No,” she said softly, steadily. “I won’t.” She tugged her arm away, but he did not loosen his grip. “Let me go.” When he squeezed tighter, she said it again, louder, so that everyone could hear. “Let go!” The bones in her wrist seemed to crack under his palm. He killed Isabelle, she thought. He killed her. She would not give in to him.
Magic burst out of her, hot and desperate, shattering an ornate fountain deep in the c
rowd. It showered everyone with dust and smoke. Flames licked the base of the statue, dancing over the surface of the water. Aurora felt another burn, over her heart, as the dragon pendant flared against her skin. Several people screamed, and then the crowd was moving, shoving and scrambling away from the destruction Aurora had caused.
“Now!” The shout came from one of the guards. Steel glistened. More screaming, louder this time, as half of the guards turned their swords on the others, running blades through throats and eyes. Blood spread onto the stone, followed by clashing metal.
Aurora darted backward, too horrified to think, but the king still held her by the arm, and he yanked her toward him. Cold metal rested against her throat.
“Not so fast, girl,” he said. “You think you can get away with this? You’re going to be sorry you ever opened your mouth by the time I’m done with you.”
Aurora heard a crack, the sound of a boot meeting bone. The king’s dagger clattered to the floor. Rodric—wild-eyed, white-faced Rodric—took several steps back from his father. For no more than a millisecond, their eyes met, and he jerked his head in an almost imperceptible nod. The king fell to the ground, clutching the back of his leg, still shouting. Iris was screaming, while the crowd wailed and metal clashed and the tangy stench of blood hit the air, and Aurora could only think one thing. Run.
In one fluid movement, she snatched the dagger from the ground and sped across the steps, skirts streaming out behind her.
“Stop her!” the king gasped, but the guards were fighting one another, and the nobles were too busy scrambling out of the way to listen. One man lurched toward her, but when Aurora glanced at him, pressure seemed to burst from her chest, and he flew backward, leaving her a clear path into the crowd. Stunned by her own magic, she slipped in a pool of blood, already slightly sticky, but managed to keep her feet, shoving people out of the way with her spare hand and her panic, not able to take in a single thing except that she was moving, she was running, and she could not stop, not for a moment, not for anything.
Several men were sweeping through the streets beyond the square, shoving people back in, trying to contain the violence, but the panicked crowd was trampling them out of the way, pushing and screaming.
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