by M. A. Larson
“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t we?” said the Queen.
“Sorry, Mother.”
“Camilla, this is Demetra’s friend. The one who—”
“Evie. Of course,” said Camilla, tipping her head in greeting. “I heard all about what you did last year. Quite a feat for a third-class girl. And do you believe you’re the fabled Warrior Princess, as everyone else seems to?”
“No,” said Evie, blushing. “No, of course not.” She quickly grabbed a platter of grapes and busied herself with the food.
“Well, that certainly puts you in the minority,” said Camilla.
Evie glanced across the table at the King, who scowled as he ate his food. All along the table, other nobles ate their breakfasts in polite conversation.
“Mum,” said Demetra, “I’ve given Evie that dress, if it’s all right—”
“Fifteen bloody minutes,” said the King darkly. “Why do we always have to leave so bloody early? I’m the king of this land, I should decide when we leave!”
“Yes, yes, you’re the king of the whole world,” said the Queen. “But that doesn’t mean you can alter time, now, does it.”
The King hunched over and continued shoveling food into his furious face.
“Your heroics with that witch have helped us immensely,” said Camilla. Evie was starting to notice that Demetra’s sister never smiled. She had intense eyes, intensely focused. “It’s allowed us to determine their power structure much more accurately—”
“More of this nonsense!” bellowed the King. “Can’t a man eat in peace?”
“Father doesn’t like mornings,” Demetra whispered to Evie. “Or afternoons or evenings.”
“It isn’t nonsense, Father,” said Camilla, completely unintimidated. “Thanks to Evie, we’ve been able to piece together the witches’ hierarchy—”
“Hierarchy?” he roared. “They’re bloody witches, girl, they live in mud huts in the woods! You’ve all gone fat-witted on your own self-importance!”
Camilla just shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’ve no idea what’s happening out there, Father. These modern witches appear to be far more organized than you think, not like the solitary hags you’re used to. And Evie here has helped us map out their leadership. That’s why we’ve taken to calling them the Seven Sisters now. The six we already knew of plus Evie’s mother—”
“She’s not my mother,” said Evie, a bit more forcefully than she’d intended.
“Right, of course. Sorry.”
“Yes, well done. You’ve managed to rename a bunch of witches,” grumbled the King.
Camilla rolled her eyes, then addressed Evie. “I’ve been working with other Pennyroyal graduates from across the land to gather information about the Seven Sisters’ movements. We’ve been compiling a dossier that we hope will one day allow us to—”
“A dossier!” shouted the King, spitting a piece of sausage across the table. It landed in Evie’s hair, and she quickly wiped it away. “A dossier? And what do you call these?” He pounded his fist on a stack of parchments in front of him.
“Father, the witch charts don’t show—”
“The witch charts show everything! Clear straight through to Waldeck!”
Camilla shook her head and turned back to Evie. “The witches are in retreat, he’s right about that. When you disrupted their plans last year, it left them in complete disarray. And it isn’t just here. We’ve been getting reports from across the land that they’ve gone deeper into the enchanted forests. The people have more hope now than they have in ages.”
“Yes, precisely,” said the King, jamming a knuckle down on the witch charts. “They’ve gone. Nothing more needs to be said, does it?”
“Just because you don’t understand witches doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be understood. And just because they’ve gone a bit quiet doesn’t mean they’ve gone.”
“Bah!”
“Oh, Mum, that reminds me,” said Camilla. “You’ve got to close the upper gates. Princess Quicksilver said in the latest newsletter that witches have started studying a kingdom’s weaknesses before they attack—”
“Bwa! Bwa-ha-ha!” bellowed the King. “Witches attacking the Blackmarsh, have you gone batty?”
“It’s true, Your Majesty,” called Anisette from the lowborn table. “We captured one in the forest and she knew all about the upper gates, didn’t she, Princess?”
“Malarky!” he shouted with a laugh. “Malarky and cheese soup, that’s what I say! Enough of the upper gates, and enough of your bloody newsletters!”
“Father, there is far more value in princesses communicating with one another than in any of your old-fashioned ideas about instinct.”
“Instinct, girl,” he said, aiming a chicken bone at Evie’s face. “That’s all a good princess needs, and don’t you forget it. Newsletters and princess meetings and Seven Sisters and all that rubbish, it’s all there to get your head going round and round ’til you can’t see straight!” Now he wheeled on Camilla. “All you need to do your job is your own instincts. There could be Seven Thousand bloody Sisters and they still couldn’t attack the Blackmarsh!”
“Estella!” shouted the Queen to one of the servants. “Why aren’t you upstairs filling the last of the trunks?”
“I’m sorry, Majesty,” said the servant as she bowed out of the room.
When the Queen stood, the breakfast quickly began to dissolve. Evie and Demetra devoured as much as they could as the rest of the slow-moving royal family began to head toward the door. Finally, with their cheeks still bulging, they followed.
The castle bustled with footmen and handmaids, with trunks and heavy cloaks. Demetra whisked Evie through the chaos and outside to the courtyard, where the traveling party was organized and waiting, including Boy. He looked better than he had since she’d gotten him, brushed and washed and well fed. The King and Queen worried their way down the stairs, shouting orders to anyone within earshot. Demetra swung atop a white horse, lightly caparisoned in silks of Blackmarsh red, while Evie climbed onto Boy.
“Look at that!” said Anisette, coming down the staircase with a smile. “Demetra’s been riding every day this summer. She’s completely over that fear of horses.”
“That’s right,” said Demetra proudly. “It was the one thing I wanted to work on this summer. The first few weeks were agony, but after a while I really started to enjoy it. They’re not so bad once you get comfortable.” She patted her horse affectionately.
“Listen, Evie,” said Anisette, checking Boy’s straps. “The witch charts are quite good, but keep an eye out. There’s a lot of nasty stuff out there. If there’s one thing I’ve learned working with Camilla, it’s that a whole pile of treaties won’t stop a gang of bandits—”
“Wait,” said Evie, remembering. “Camilla! We can’t leave until we’ve spoken to Camilla, remember?”
“Of course,” said Demetra. “Where’s she gone?”
“Camilla?” said Anisette. “D’you want me to find her?”
“I’m right here,” said Camilla, emerging from the castle. She handed some documents to one of the guardsmen in the traveling party, then came over to join them. “All ready for year two, then?”
“Listen, Camilla,” said Demetra, “Evie’s got something to ask you about. Go on, Evie.”
“You’d better make it quick,” said Camilla. “We’re hosting some of the local princesses from the south bay, and they should be arriving any minute. Are we ready for them, Anisette?”
“I’ll make sure of it, Princess. Good luck, ladies!” she said with a nod to Evie and Demetra.
“Bye, Anisette.”
She ran up the stairs and disappeared into the castle. Camilla looked up at Evie without a smile.
“Oh, uh . . . well, I saw something on my way here, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it—
”
“She saw three princesses kill an old lady,” said Demetra. “Sorry, Evie, you’re too slow.”
“Three princesses?” said Camilla. And for the first time, she seemed genuinely confused. “Are you quite sure? Why should princesses want to hurt anyone?”
“They burst into the inn where I was staying and started harassing the innkeeper. Asking if he’d seen someone called Javotte. Then they—”
“Javotte?” said Camilla.
“Yes. He said he didn’t know where she was and they just started attacking. It was horrendous.”
“Javotte,” said Camilla with a frown. “That’s very odd.”
“See? I told you she knew everything about everything,” said Demetra. “So who is she?”
“Javotte is a princess of the blood who went mad many years ago. She was discharged from Pennyroyal Academy after her first year and just sort of lost her mind. She vanished some time ago, and no one has heard from her since. I’ve no idea why anyone would be looking for her, much less three princesses.”
A trumpeter blasted a short fanfare. The King and Queen climbed into their carriage, and a whole fleet of horsemen started down the hill toward the gatehouse. “Come, Demetra!” bellowed the King.
“You’d better go,” said Camilla. “Don’t let it worry you, all right? I’ll mention it to the princesses when they arrive and we’ll keep an eye out.”
“Thanks very much,” said Evie.
“Demetra, move that horse or we’re leaving you behind!”
“Come on, Evie. Father doesn’t make idle threats.”
“Be safe,” said Camilla. “Mind the witch charts and mind your instincts. And most importantly, don’t forget to enjoy your second year!”
Evie and Demetra waved goodbye, then rode after the traveling party. They made their way to the gatehouse just as the enormous slabs of wood inside creaked open to reveal the heather-covered cliffs arcing around the bay. Evie glanced up at one of the towers and saw Jensen there, waving. She gave him a smile and followed the rest of the party out into the wide world.
As the group climbed the hill to the tops of the cliffs, Evie’s eyes remained to her right, to the roiling sea below. Huge slaps of water rose high into the air, dissolving into sprays of foam. She thought of her stepsister, Malora. She hadn’t in quite some time, but Camilla’s mention of Countess Hardcastle over breakfast brought that day on the tower rushing back into Evie’s memory. After spending the previous year learning how horrible, how truly evil, witches were, it was quite a shock to feel such compassion for one. As the water rolled toward the shore, a wall of black covered in feathery white waves, she wondered if Malora had managed to keep any of her humanity, or if she was a witch completely, right down to her heart and soul, or whatever a witch had in place of a heart and soul. And on top of all that, where was she now? Had she joined the Seven Sisters, or was she all alone out there in the great big world?
As the days passed, the royals and their entourage lumbered along through the mountain passes, the King and Queen forever arguing about what seemed to be trivial things. Which route should they take home? Who would greet the Queen of Waldeck first? Was Demetra’s little brother warm enough or was he, as the King said, roasting alive like a pigeon on the sun? There was no sign of trouble, witch or otherwise. They kept to the main roads, and each kingdom they encountered welcomed them like the royalty that they were. It was a much easier journey than the one Evie had taken alone with Boy. She hadn’t eaten a single slug since they’d left the Blackmarsh.
One day, as they passed through a gentle valley between two spectacular, snow-topped mountains, Evie and Demetra were playing a game to pass the time, envisioning what sorts of curses they would put on people if they were witches. Demetra nearly fell off her horse with laughter at Evie’s suggestion. The previous year she’d cured the curse of an unlikable grump of a cadet named Prince Forbes, turning him from a pig back into a human. If she were a witch, she said, she’d turn him into a plate of bacon.
“There you are!” came the gruff voice of the King, interrupting the game. He rode back to join them, his wolf furs fluttering in the chilly autumnal wind, and jerked his chin at Demetra. “Go handle your mother, will you? She’s convinced we’ve left a trunk back in Woodgate and I’m afraid I’ll throw her in the lake if I have to listen to any more of it.”
“Yes, Father,” said Demetra. She rode ahead to find the Queen’s carriage.
Evie was suddenly quite uncomfortable. The King wasn’t leaving. He rode next to her, an awkward silence in the air.
“What was your name again?” His voice was brusque, though he was clearly trying to sound less so.
“Evie, Your Serene and Exalted—”
“Oh, stop it. I can’t stand that bloody title. So you’re Callahan’s little girl.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I must tell you, I hadn’t thought about that old bear in years. But hearing his name has made me realize how much I miss him.”
“Did you know him well, Your Majesty?”
“Well enough, I should think. He was quite the hunter, or so he believed.”
“Did you know my mother as well?”
“No, I only saw Callahan on hunts. No queens, or talk of queens, allowed.” The King chuckled to himself. “Exceptional man, he was. Though he did have his quirks, didn’t he?”
“I’m afraid I don’t remember much about him. He died when I was only five.”
“Ah, I see.” His tone softened a bit when he heard that. “Well, he could be a bit of an odd duck, your father. One thing I remember quite well about old Callahan, he never needed much in the way of sleep. There was a group of us, kings mostly from the east, but a few others as well. We’d all go out for a fortnight each spring looking for bears, stoats, whatever crossed our paths. Callahan even shot an arrow at a dragonfly once.” He roared with laughter, which made Evie smile. “Truth be told, those hunts were mostly an excuse to get away from our children.” His laughter rumbled again. “Well, old Callahan, he had his own ways about him. The rest of us would make camp for the night, roasting whatever we’d caught that day, then trading stories until we fell asleep round the fire, drowning in mead or whatever disgusting concoction King Hubert had made that day. And every night round that time, old Callahan would ride off from camp. I’d wake to relieve myself or have another bite of venison, and he’d be gone. Always made it back for morning, though, and never the worse for wear, even without sleep.”
Evie was riveted. She’d never heard anything about her human father except what Countess Hardcastle had told her, and she didn’t know if she could trust any of what the witch had said. “Where would he go?”
“Ah, so you’re as curious as I was! I’d had enough of the old man’s sneaking about, so I followed him one night. After watching him do it for years, I had to know what he was up to. Now that I think of it, that might have been our last hunt before he was killed. In any event, who can say why I picked that night to follow him—too much wine is the likely answer—but follow him I did. He rode due north until he reached the coast. I settled in at the edge of the forest where I could still see him but he couldn’t see me. And do you know what he did? He stood there, knee-deep in the sea, just staring. He looked up at the stars from time to time, took a little stroll down the beach to feel the sand in his toes. But mostly he just stood and stared out to sea. For hours. I kept waiting for the old loon to do something!” The King laughed. “Then, just before dawn, he mounted up and rode back to camp for another day of hunting, just as chirpy as could be. An odd one, that father of yours. Though as good a shot with an insult as a bow.”
The King’s laughter faded to silence as Evie let his story linger.
“Father!” cried Demetra. “Father, hurry! Mother’s trying to turn the carriage back!”
“Blast!” he yelled, then spurred his horse ahead.
&n
bsp; Evie imagined her father, the man whose portrait was pressed inside the dragon scale dangling around her neck, standing at water’s edge in the dead of night. What was he thinking about? Why was it so important for him to come to the sea? It made her heart ache to think she’d never know the answer.
They made camp that night beneath the stars. The fight between Demetra’s mother and father had cost them the opportunity to reach the next kingdom. But even sleeping in the wild was an elaborate production with Demetra’s family. Giant pavilions striped red and white were erected, with goose-down pillows to sleep on. The Queen insisted they move back from the road, with the royal pavilion positioned in the middle in case anyone came along. The King argued that he’d rather sleep beneath the big oak tree, but his wife insisted that decorum be observed. Finally, once everything had been settled (leaving the King in his customary bad mood), Evie was able to lie down on her back and stare up at the stars, the only sound Demetra’s heavy snoring. She held her father’s picture above her so the stars were behind him. She stared at his laughing face until her arms finally gave out, then she went into the tent and fell asleep with his picture resting over her heart.
The King and Queen once again dominated breakfast the next morning. As easily as Demetra seemed to ignore it, Evie had to admit she found it somewhat entertaining. The guards stood by, expressionless, as the royals bickered and made up, then bickered again. And the more she saw them behave like just another ordinary family, the more comfortable she felt around them. Perhaps even more comfortable than she was around her own family.
They packed up camp and continued west. Aside from the steady tromping of hooves and the creaking of axles, only the wind through the leaves made any sort of noise. The world was still and quiet, tucked beneath a puffy white blanket of clouds. Evie rode along in silence for more than an hour, the King’s story about her father drifting in and out of her thoughts. Then, quite suddenly, the quiet of the day was disrupted by distant shouts from the royal guardsmen at the front of the party.
“Smoke! Smoke!”
Everyone urged their horses forward, and as they followed the road over the crest of a hill, they saw what the guards were shouting about. White smoke rose from the smoldering remains of an outpost at the bottom of the valley.