Zan cleared his throat. “Can we talk? Maybe . . . outside?”
I followed him, arms crossed.
Alone on the stoop, Zan said, “Emilie, I know it’s bad timing, and I don’t expect you to understand—”
“Good. That’s good. Because I don’t.”
“This is what my king has commanded—”
“Your king is a feckless half-wit.”
“That doesn’t make him any less a king.”
“Doesn’t it? I thought you were loyal to Achleva.”
“I am. That is why I have to obey the rule of its monarch.”
I heard the echo of my father’s voice alongside my own. “Kings do not rule; they serve. The people do not swear fealty to a king, but he to them.”
“Damn it, Emilie, I have no choice.”
“Look around you, Zan.” I motioned to the decaying mulch of Kate’s garden that only yesterday had been populated with cheerful yellow flowers. “If obeying Domhnall means letting his people suffer, or putting them in danger, you have only one choice.”
“And what is that?”
“Disobey Domhnall. Resist.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand. We’re in it up to our necks here, and you’re going to take a vacation. You’re running away when you need to stay and put up a fight.”
“Like you did, with the Tribunal?”
I said dangerously, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He was inches from my face. “Neither do you.”
“Good luck on your hunt.” I ended the conversation with the slam of the door.
* * *
Kate kept herself occupied with sewing projects while I buried myself in books to distract from Nathaniel’s movements around the house as he packed for the hunt, but though I was turning pages, I absorbed little of what I was reading. After I watched Kate sew and unpick the same seam three times, I suspected she was similarly agitated.
Shortly after midday, Nathaniel stopped just outside the sitting room, bag in hand. “I’m going now,” he said. His eyes were fixed to the wall, as if he were addressing it instead of us.
When Kate did not respond, he picked up his satchel and moved for the door, his broad shoulders sagging just a little bit lower than usual.
Kate closed her book and rose from the table. “Wait,” she said, taking his large hand in her small one. “Be careful.”
His expression softened. “I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded and put her hand on her belly. “We’ll be waiting.”
* * *
Nathaniel’s departure left Kate feeling drained; I felt comfortable letting her stay in the house alone only after she promised to try to sleep. She’d extracted a similar promise from me, too, but I had no intention of keeping it. I tried to convince myself that maybe it was better this way. Maybe with Zan gone, I could go back to worrying about my own problems instead of being constantly distracted by his.
The first thing I needed to take care of was the Founder’s blood relic. Toris had tipped his hand when my threat to destroy it caused him to retreat. I’d insinuated that I’d spelled the relic and hidden it, and that’s what I decided to spend my time accomplishing. Better late than never, after all.
I thought of a half dozen places to hide it, but none of them felt right—that one was too close to home; wouldn’t want Toris to track it back to Nathaniel and Kate. That one was too open; it could be too easily glimpsed by a passerby. Burying it wouldn’t work, because what if an animal found it? Keeping it on my person at all times seemed like a good option . . . except that if Toris ever searched me and found it, I’d be dead on the spot.
Over and over, the thought that kept coming back to me was: Aren.
She had frightened Toris in the Ebonwilde. Her tower was protected by bloodleaf; no self-preserving individual would cross it willingly. And as my fluency in magic grew, so did my awareness of its currents. At the exact center of the city, the tower acted almost like an anchor to the ley lines rerouted into the wall. I was drawn to it.
The flooded canal passage had mostly drained in the days since High Gate fell, leaving behind a thick layer of mud and debris. I slogged through it, falling a few times, and ascended the tower stairs soaked and feeling sorry for myself.
It didn’t take long to find a brick loose enough to remove and replace with the vial concealed behind it; indeed, it seemed as if the structure was still standing only because of luck or magic, or a combination of both. The brick I chose was on the pedestal just below Aren’s left heel. I could have used a brick in the front, but it seemed somehow unfair to make her watch over the blood of the brother who’d killed her. I didn’t spell it, either; I was tired, and my hands hurt—they were never without a new cut, no matter how quickly I healed—and I felt certain that if I did, it would somehow go awry, just like everything else.
Just as I was rising from my knees to brush the dirt and chips of mortar off my dress, I heard the sound of trumpets in the distance. I leaned out from the tower battlement in time to see the king’s hunting party exiting through Forest Gate, blue Achlevan pennants streaming. It was a collection of lords and ladies dressed in costumes nearly as fine—and absurd—as the masquerade. A half dozen sleek hounds ran alongside the parade, barking for joy and nipping at the horses’ heels. I caught sight of Lisette and Conrad’s matching golden heads just as they disappeared under the gate. Behind them, about three riders back, rode Nathaniel and Zan.
I wanted to be angry, but standing there so far above the rest of the world, watching Zan blindly following the whims of his worthless king, I felt only sorry. For him, for the city he was neglecting, and for myself, because he cared so little for my good opinion when I would have moved mountains to earn his. Until this, at least.
I was retreating from the tower’s edge when I saw it: a tiny scrap of red, fluttering in the breeze, bright against the wilted, brown garden. It wasn’t smart to go gallivanting across the castle grounds in the middle of the day, but once I’d seen it, I couldn’t stop myself. I flew down the stairs and raced across the bloodleaf to where I’d spotted that flash of red.
Sure enough, it was a ribbon tied to the hand of an impish garden figurine. Red for north.
I untied the ribbon and walked a few paces toward the fjord but had to stop at the terrace ledge. Leaning over, I peeked down and saw a rock, mostly hidden by rotted bushes, that had been laid on top of something white. A small paper box. I opened it quickly and was stunned to pull out Conrad’s figurine, carefully twisted into the shape of a swan.
I searched my pockets, but I already knew I had nothing left to give him; nevertheless, the thought of stopping our game was intolerable. As much as I wanted to keep this token from him, I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep standing out in the wide open, either. So I turned the pieces one, two, three more times, until the animal I was holding was not a graceful swan but a noble stag. I traded the red ribbon for the one I’d come wearing—lavender—and left it under the rock. Then I moved east and hid the box under the overhang of one terrace stone and another.
All the way home, I let my hair fly free as I cradled that red ribbon as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Because to me it was.
24
The next morning I found Kate in the rocking chair next to her bedroom window, humming a sad, pretty lullaby in time to the in-and-out motions of her needle as she rocked. She paused to hold up her project—a lovely little dress—to admire. “Not bad,” she said. To her belly, she added, “What do you think, my girl?”
I knocked softly on the door frame to let her know I was there. “With all the flower dresses you’ve made, what will your baby wear if it’s a boy?”
“Flower dresses, of course,” Kate said, smiling widely. “A baby doesn’t care what it wears, and I’ve put too much work into them not to use them. Besides, I’d never want my boy to grow up thinking he couldn’t love flowers.” She poi
nted her needle at me. “But still . . . she’s a girl, and until she’s born, no one will be able to tell me otherwise.”
“What does Nathaniel think of the prospect?”
Her smile dimmed. “I haven’t told him.”
Carefully, I asked, “How bad is it, really?”
“Bad. I made Dedrick’s costume—how could I not? It was a simple design, and he paid quite a lot for it. But Nathaniel was here when he came by to get it before the ball. It didn’t go well.”
“And now he’s off chasing bunnies in the forest with Domhnall.”
“He didn’t want to go; I could tell,” she said miserably. “But I didn’t want to stop him.”
“But why? It looked like you had a moment, right before he left . . . Maybe if he had stayed you could have—”
“This is why.” She pulled a note from her pocket. “Dedrick sent me this yesterday. My mother is coming into town at his behest. He has arranged for me to see her, first thing tomorrow morning. She believes she’s been invited to see a property my father is considering purchasing. I’m going to be waiting there, as a surprise. If Nathaniel knew . . .” She picked at the untrimmed threads on the baby’s dress, shrugging.
Something about the subterfuge felt wrong, but who was I to judge? They all thought my name was Emilie.
I said, “It’s only been a few weeks since I last saw my mother—and we did not part on the best of terms, either—but I’d give anything to talk to her. If I knew I could see her, I’d defy anyone who tried to stop me.” I folded my arms. “So I understand how you feel. But it shouldn’t be a secret. Nathaniel doesn’t have to like it, but I do think that he should know.”
“You sound like my mother,” Kate said wryly. “You should come meet her. I think you’d get along.”
“If she’s at all like you, it would be hard not to. But Zan said Molly used to work in the fish market on the waterfront before getting hired in the castle. Maybe someone there could tell me more about her ‘beau.’ Might even be able to get a name.”
“No magic this time? No séance?”
I shook my head. “The only thing I’ve been able to achieve with magic is to make things worse.” I looked at my hands, dotted with tiny cuts in various stages of healing. “I’m going to try another way.”
“Dedrick has a home on the waterfront. It’s where I’m going to meet my mother tomorrow.” She brightened. “We can walk there together.”
* * *
We left at the break of dawn, watching the sun send streaks of soft pink across the sky as it rose. It was almost enough to distract from the muck left from the dead plants. The sour-sweet stench of rot hung over the entire city.
As we approached the waterfront, Kate said, “Keep alert. In this district, it’s easy to leave with empty pockets without spending a single copper.”
Here the scent of decay was overpowered by the smells of fish and unwashed bodies and other, less pleasant aromas. The shouts of haggard, sea-weathered sailors intermingled with the cry of gulls circling above. Kate pointed to a building on the eastern side, a manor of glass and gold, that overlooked the docks like a smug emperor. “There’s Dedrick’s place.” She fidgeted nervously. “Time to go. How do I look?”
“Beautiful,” I said gently. “But your mother won’t care. She’ll just be happy to see you.”
Kate gave me a quick hug. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck!” I said, but she’d already disappeared into the crowd.
I approached a stall constructed of gray timbers and old tin, near the ghost of a hard-bitten woman whose expression was a mixture of wary suspicion and open hostility. Small wonder: the back of her head was caved in. She sat on a barrel like a gargoyle, while a girl—a real girl, of flesh and blood—manned a display of buckets filled with drooping flowers nearby. I approached cautiously from the angle farthest from the ghost; that was one death I preferred not to see.
“Lovely day, is it not?” I asked the girl.
She gave me a nervous smile. “Perfect day for a daisy, mum, if I do say so meself.”
“So it is. I’ll take a few.” I gave her two silvers—almost the entirety of my wages from Zan.
She gaped. “No, mum, I can’t accept this. Not for flowers two steps from bein’ compost, curse this blight.”
“Keep it,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Elizabeth,” she said hesitantly. “Most call me Beth.”
“Beth, I’m trying to find out more about a girl named Molly. She was a housemaid at the castle, and”—I cleared my throat—“she recently passed. Did you know her?”
Beth’s expression clouded over. “I knew Molly. She used to sell chocolate and candy from that stall over there.” She pointed across the way. “She was nice. I’m real sorry about what happened to her.”
“They said she got her job as a housemaid to get closer to a man she’d been seeing.”
“I don’t know much about that,” Beth said. “I didn’t know her all that well. We was just friendly.”
“You never saw a man frequent her stall?”
“All sorts of men hung around her stall, miss. It’s the way o’ the docks. Girls like me learn quick how to handle it.” She flashed a gnarly-looking knife tucked into her apron pocket. “Men don’t learn as quick. Takes a few pokes before they get that flowers is the only thing I be sellin’ here.” She paused. “Molly was of a softer spirit. She wasn’t so tough as me. Sold more on account of it, I think. But at what cost?”
“What do you mean?”
Beth fiddled with the coins. “Nothin’, mum. Just that Molly might still be ’ere if she was better at tellin’ the difference between the sheep and the wolves dressed up in their clothing.”
“Beth,” I said slowly, “is there something else you want to tell me?”
She shook her head, maybe a little too quickly. “No. No, mum. Just a little advice, maybe. Fish ain’t been so plentiful as of late, so the fishermen are all in foul temper today. Best steer clear if you want to keep that skip in your step.” She tucked the coins away in her dress. “With the exception of Firth, o’ course. He’s in a fine mood. Caught himself a fugitive last night. There’ll be a bit o’ gold in his future, mark it.”
“A fugitive?” I asked.
“That man that escaped from the king’s gibbets,” she said. “First one ever. Poor bugger didn’t get far, though. Firth found ’is body floatin’ in the water down by the next port. They’ll be bringing it up this way soon, if you want a look.”
“Thank you,” I managed.
The din of the docks, the smells, the bright light of midday, my happy feeling at finding Conrad’s toy . . . all were suddenly dimmed and deadened.
I thanked Beth again and stumbled into the narrow alley between two dockside buildings, where I wrapped my arms around myself. It isn’t Thackery, I told myself. It can’t be Thackery.
But it was Thackery.
I knew it before the body was paraded past like a prize buck, because his spirit preceded it, dripping and bloated, midsection punctured a half dozen times. Thackery was dead, and with him my last hopes of rescue. We regarded each other for a split second, and then he grabbed me. My shriek was lost in the sounds of the dock.
He’d been camped out in the woods. Someone had been following him. He’d heard the breaking twigs, the breathing, and whirled around and around trying to catch a glimpse. I could hear the faintest whisper, I am unseen. I am unseen.
When his follower finally showed himself, it was to press a luneocite knife into Thackery’s ribs from behind. Hot breath on his neck. An oily voice saying, “This is your last chance to save your life, old man. The king wants to know who has been selling you those invitations. Was it the same person who let you out of your cage?”
“I can’t say,” Thackery gasped as the knife pressed deeper, breaking his skin.
“Does the king have a bastard somewhere? A child no one but you knows about? Answer!”
&nb
sp; Despite all, Thackery chuckled. “Everyone knows the king is as sterile as a ball o’ cotton. Only reason he had the one kid he got is because ’is wife asked the Assembly to use magic to help her conceive. Took the work of the whole lot of ’em, too, I’m told.”
“You’re useless,” the man said, and pushed his knife the rest of the way in.
Thackery fell and rolled over, throat filling up with blood. The man nudged him with his boot and leaned down close.
“Send my regards to the other side,” he said, before stabbing him with his luneocite knife again, and again, and again . . .
I came out of the horrid vision with tears running down my face.
Thackery was already gone. He’d done what he meant to do. He’d shown me what he wanted me to see.
The face of his killer. Dedrick Corvalis.
I dropped my half-dead flowers and ran.
* * *
The manor was built dockside, but it was cut off from the teeming life that pervaded the rest of the pier. I ducked under a gate, struck by the emptiness. There were no people here, none. No servants or sailors or sound but the hollow thunk thunk of my shoes on the pier’s timbers.
I let myself inside, thankful it wasn’t locked. The house was a maze of golden chandeliers and marble columns but empty of furniture. “Kate?” I called softly, timidly, and the sound ricocheted around in the vaulted rafters. When it faded, I heard another sound: voices, a man and a woman.
She’s up there, I thought, and I dashed toward the grand, circling staircase, taking the steps two at a time before stumbling breathlessly out onto the top floor.
I landed in a huge antechamber painted to the ceiling with a depiction of a terrifying, fiery-winged Empyrea descending from the heavens and touching down to earth. Fire and water and stone and storm and forest were shown to be colliding around her, while streaks of blue-white light jigged out from the collision point. This was a sanctorium, not unlike the one back home in Renalt.
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