The Confectioner's Coup

by Claire Luana

  “The orphanage was a front for child slavery. And worse.”

  Lucas’s face had gone pale, and the muscles in his jaw worked back and forth. “What?”

  “It’s where all your father’s favorite nobles would come to get their playthings,” she hissed. “But no more. Sable dashed into the middle of things, and I followed, and I saw him standing there. I saw my chance…to do the thing I couldn’t do when I was ten years old. I killed him. He’s dead.” The sudden fierceness drained out of her. “And so is Sable.” Her voice broke.

  Lucas pulled her into his arms and she pressed her face against the soft fabric of his shirt, melting against him.

  When he spoke, his voice was hard and low. “I will make him pay, Wren. You have my word. My father will pay for what he did to you.”

  Within her, his words kindled fear and satisfaction alike. For however glad she was that Lucas finally saw the truth of who his father was, she was afraid of what it meant. For King Imbris wouldn’t pay for his crimes without more bloodshed. And that, she didn’t think she was ready for.

  Wren and Lucas untangled themselves and trudged the rest of the way to the kitchen. In the clean tidy space they found Thom and Trick sidled up against a massive butcher block island, devouring a loaf of hot bread, smearing it with creamy cheese.

  “More bottomless pits here to crowd my kitchen?” the sturdy cuisinier complained as they entered, but her eyes were kind, and she put out two more plates and a basket of grapes.

  Wren crashed into Thom with a bone-breaking hug while Lucas did the same with Trick. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said. Thom was her only Gifted ally in the Guild now…besides Hale…and she didn’t think Hale would be himself for some time. If ever again.

  “Sable?” Thom asked, his face twisted in worry.

  Wren scrunched her lips together, trying to stop a fresh bout of tears. She shook her head once.

  Thom collapsed onto the stool, his head in his hands. “This is all my fault,” he said. “If I hadn’t been captured, none of this would have happened!”

  “No,” Wren and Lucas said at the same time, and she looked at him for the hundredth time that night with gratitude. “It’s not your fault,” Wren said, putting an arm around his bony shoulders. “You were kidnapped. None of what happened to you was your fault. We took a calculated risk in rescuing all the hostages. It was the right choice.”

  “The only one to blame for Sable’s death is my father,” Lucas said, his voice like iron. “His Black Guard ran her through. His Grand Inquisitor planned to ambush us when we tried to free the prisoners. He bears the blame. At least Killian paid for what he did.”

  They had left Killian’s broken body bloody on the cobblestones in their rush to get Sable and Pike to medical treatment. “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “I’d never seen someone take a beating like that and live,” Lucas said. “Hale must have crushed his skull in. He’s dead.”

  “Good,” Trick said, surprising Wren and Lucas. Thom blew out a sigh of relief.

  “What do you have against Killian?” Lucas asked his brother. “I know he’s never been our favorite of father’s attack dogs…”

  “We have much to tell you,” Thom said, reaching for another slice of bread. “We learned a lot in our short captivity.”

  “Like what?” Wren asked.

  “Like we were only the beginning.” Trick looked meaningfully at the cuisinier, who was ignoring them while chopping vegetables. He nodded towards the door.

  Thom stood, loading the food onto a plate, and led the way out the kitchen door.

  “Thank you for the meal,” Lucas said as he gestured for Wren to proceed. They made their way into the dark hallway before Lucas rounded on Trick.

  “The beginning?” Lucas’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Trick hesitated, looking meaningfully at Wren, from Wren to Lucas.

  Wren raised an eyebrow in confusion, before she realized what Trick was getting at. “Oh,” she said. “Lucas knows.”

  “It’s about damn time,” Trick said, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Father intends to gain complete control over all Gifted and infused products. He’s been building…a home for us.”

  “A home?” Wren asked.

  “A prison. Forced labor. We cook, we distill, we sleep. Until we die,” Trick said.

  “I overheard Killian saying you were supposed to be the first, Wren,” Thom said. “But Callidus foiled the plan when he came in and saved you. Killian had it in for him ever since.”

  “But…they were going to kill me,” Wren said.

  “No, they weren’t,” Thom said. “It wasn’t real poison. It was just supposed to look like you were dead. You were intended for this secret prison.”

  “That’s why they were executing you by poison,” Lucas said, realization dawning on him. “Death by ingestion. I’ve never even heard of that. They always cut people’s heads off.”

  “Everyone would have thought I was dead…but I would have woken up a…slave?” Wren shuddered, suddenly even more grateful that she had foiled the king and Killian’s plan. She would rather be executed than enslaved for the rest of her life.

  Trick and Thom nodded grimly.

  “Trick and I have been piecing it together. We think it’s why they tried to kidnap me before I joined you at the Guild,” Thom said.

  “The night Callidus and I saved you?” Wren asked.

  Thom nodded. “The king knew I was Gifted and wanted to get to me before the Guild did. Since they couldn’t have you, Wren, they were going to take me.”

  Wren shook her head, struggling to comprehend the horror of King Imbris’s plan.

  “Lucas, you need to try to talk some sense into Father,” Trick said. “This is madness.”

  “He doesn’t listen to me.”

  “But he listens to Mother. And Ella.”

  “Wait. Ella knew about the Gifted, but not me?”

  Trick shrugged. “She drank some of my infused wine when she was younger. You know how she got into trouble.”

  Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right. I’ll go see if I can talk to Mother. Trick, you stay here. It’s not safe at your apartment; they might look for you. Wren, you and Thom should stay here too.”

  “Someone should go back to the Guild,” Wren said. “We need to know what Beckett is planning next.”

  “Not you,” Lucas said. “It’s too dangerous for you to return there. Between springing Hale and attacking the caravan, you’ll be under suspicion. They could know about your involvement in freeing Thom, Trick, and the others.”

  Wren bit her lip. He was right. “What about Olivia and Lennon? Were they seen?”

  Lucas frowned. “I think Lennon stayed back with the archers, and Olivia didn’t come out from the alley until the end. It should be safe for them.”

  “Lennon’s sponsored by Beckett, so it would be natural for him to ask the grandmaster for information on where the guildmasters are being held and when they will be tried. Between Lennon and Olivia, they should be able to discover something. Then we can regroup and try to come up with a new plan.” Wren didn’t mention that she wanted to give her friends a chance to opt out of this whole messy affair. They weren’t Gifted. Sable hadn’t been their sponsor. This wasn’t their fight. Not like it was Wren’s.

  Lucas, Thom, and Trick nodded, though Wren could see the doubt in their eyes. She felt it too. There was nowhere to go from here. She had no plan, no ideas. But they couldn’t abandon Callidus. Sable wouldn’t have given up hope, and Wren wouldn’t either.

  Wren explained the situation to Olivia and Lennon, and after many tear-filled hugs from Olivia, the two had left Pike’s manor for the Guildhall, promising to retrieve what information they could.

  Pike’s housekeeper showed them to baths and beds, finding places for all the former hostages.

  Hale had wandered out onto the long dock and sat cross-legged and still in the moonlight. “Do you think he�
��s okay out there?” Wren had asked Lucas, looking out the window at his dark form.

  “Let him be,” Lucas said. “He’s as unpredictable as a wild horse right now. I don’t want him lashing out at you.”

  So she did as she was told, and after scrubbing all the blood off her hands and out from under her fingernails, she collapsed into bed, tears leaking onto the soft pillowcase. Sadness and despair and guilt overwhelmed her; she had Lucas’s arms to comfort her while Hale had none.

  In the morning, Lucas rode for the palace, and she waited, haunting the driveway for him to return, to tell her his mother had a brilliant way of saving the guildmasters. She ignored Thom and Trick passing time playing a game of hazard, she ignored Hale, still sitting on the dock of Pike’s little pond like a statue. She even ignored Pike, who was hovering near death due to loss of blood, unconscious and pale. She knew that she should shower comfort on these other people, should show them warmth and love and leadership. But she had none to give, wrapped instead in sorrow and blood-soaked dreams.

  But Lucas didn’t return. Not that evening, nor throughout the night.

  Chapter 32

  Rizio was the only person at the breakfast table the next morning. He sat reading the newspaper, a steaming pot of coffee before him. Wren hovered by the doorway for a moment, hesitant to bother him. The man had an edge that made her nervous, with his shrewd eyes and dark goatee and silver earring. Most of Pike’s men did, to be honest. They seemed…untamed. Unpredictable.

  “You’re welcome to join me,” he said without looking up from the page he was reading.

  Wren blushed, and she hurried to join him. She grabbed a mug from the buffet against the wall and sank into the chair across from him. Her need for coffee outweighed any awkwardness. Her head ached and her eyes were scratchy and puffy from crying and lack of sleep. But she knew she needed to pull herself together, to return to some semblance of functioning.

  He closed the paper and folded it, watching her take her first sip.

  “How’s Pike?” she asked.

  “The doctor says he’s stabilized. He’ll recover. He hasn’t woken for more than a few minutes at a time, though. He’ll need a few weeks before he’s up to his old tricks.”

  Wren breathed a sigh of relief. The first good news in what felt like years. “I’m glad,” she said.

  “The news isn’t as good for your guildmaster,” he said, tapping the paper.

  Wren’s temporary elation fled. “What?” She hadn’t heard any updates from Olivia or Lennon.

  “They’re going to execute him. And the others. Four of the best guildheads and Gifted, and the king would destroy them, rather than have his power challenged.”

  “What?” Wren exclaimed, pulling the paper towards her. She scanned the headline, her heart sinking into her stomach. It was true. Callidus and the others had somehow already been tried and sentenced to death. Their execution was scheduled for the next morning at 9 a.m. The whole Imbris royal family was scheduled to be present.

  “There’s something else,” Rizio said.

  “What?” She felt weary to her bones, so brittle a stiff wind might have blown her away. She didn’t think she could take more bad news.

  “I have word that the Imbris family has been called back to the palace and is not allowed to leave. The king is expecting an imminent attack.”

  Wren leaned forwards, resting her forehead on the smooth varnished surface of the table.

  “I believe the Aprican threat is the gods’ punishment for King Hadrian’s hubris. He doesn’t deserve this nation.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Wren said, closing her eyes. Her list of allies was growing thin. Lucas and Virgil and even Ella were cut off from her. Sable… Her mind skipped over thoughts of Sable. They were like a black hole—she feared if she let herself go there, she might be pulled in and never come out. Hale wasn’t an option; he hadn’t moved from his position on the dock in the last thirty-six hours. Chandler and McArt and Bruxius were arrested, too; Pike was grievously wounded. There was just her and Thom now, a green confectioner who had spent the majority of his time in the Guild in captivity. How in the Beekeeper’s name was she ever going to save Callidus?

  Wren sat up, pushing her unruly curls from her face. “There must be something I can do to save Callidus. If I come up with a plan, will you and your men help?”

  “No,” he said. “Pike commands us, and I do not think he will be in a position to command us for some time. I would not commit his men to a cause without his blessing.”

  Wren’s shoulders sagged. She didn’t have it in her to feel angry or disappointed. Pike’s men had already done so much. “I expected as much.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”

  A bell began to toll in the distance, loud and insistent. Wren sat straight up. That bell meant the city was under attack.

  Wren and Rizio rose in unison and hurried out the front door. There was already smoke rising on the horizon—it looked close.

  “They are attacking from the south. The Industrial Quarter,” Rizio remarked.

  “What should we do?” Wren asked, her eyes wide. Could this day get any worse?

  “Your friends are out on the back deck, eating breakfast. I suggest a meal and companionship, to start. These things always help brighten a dark day.”

  Wren shot Rizio an incredulous look. She thought of the key hanging heavily against her chest. She had worn it every day since Lucas had given it to her. They could run. She could take Hale and Thom and flee. But running meant abandoning Callidus. And Lucas. And where would they go anyway? No, she wasn’t running.

  Rizio turned back towards the house. “They will breach the walls or not. Either way, it doesn’t hurt to be well-fed.”

  There was a certain strange sense in that, so Wren followed him back into the house, retrieved her coffee mug, and headed onto the deck.

  Wren walked through the house, past a knot of the other Gifted who were eating their breakfast in the informal living room. She couldn’t bring herself to be social, to say hello to them. A set of double doors paned with glass opened onto a broad expanse of deck that overlooked Spirit Bay. Even with the smudge of smoke rising to the left, the scene was breathtaking.

  “Wren!” Thom turned when she approached, but his smile faltered as he caught sight of her grim face. “Any word?”

  “Nothing good,” she replied.

  “What is it?” Trick asked. He was sitting next to Thom, an empty plate on his lap.

  “Let me sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”

  So she did, falling into a chair with a heavy thud. When she was done, Trick stood, his wide mouth set in that determined Imbris way. “I’m going back to my Guild.”

  “What?” Wren said. “You heard what Lucas said yesterday. It’s not safe.”

  “I have allies there still. Friends who disagreed with giving in to the king’s demands. I’ll be careful. Only approach the right people. If they can help me get Lucas out, maybe they can help us free the other guildmasters. We need all the help we can get, right?”

  “Trick, it’s not safe. Your brother wouldn’t want you taking that risk for him,” Thom said.

  “No, but he would take the risk for me. Plus, I’m an Imbris. Even if I get captured, my father isn’t going to outright kill me. He’s just holding everyone.”

  Wren bit her lip, considering.

  “I’m not asking permission,” he said. “I’m going.”

  “Then I’m going with you,” Thom said. Wren felt a pang at how quickly Thom volunteered to leave her to help Trick. But he and Trick had been held together. Perhaps they had formed a tighter bond than Thom had in the few days he had been with his own Guild.

  “No,” Trick said. “It’ll be easier for me to get where I need to go alone. You and Wren stay here and figure out a plan. I’ll stay safe, I promise.”

  So Thom and Wren hugged Trick goodbye and made him promise to meet them back here as soon as he had any news.

&
nbsp; When he was gone, they looked at each other, so many words unspoken. Thom rubbed his neck awkwardly. “You look like you could use some breakfast. I’ll rustle you up a plate.”

  Wren let out a sad little laugh, but her stomach chose that moment to yowl in protest. “I guess that’s a yes,” she said. “Thanks.”

  She sat in the chair Trick had vacated, rubbing her arms against the morning chill. Her coffee was only lukewarm, but she swallowed the rest, grimacing at the bitterness on the bottom. She set it down on the wooden planks of the deck and noticed a thick black notebook under Thom’s chair. Curious, she picked it up and flipped through the pages. It was a sketchbook filled with drawings in charcoal pencil. The early pages were filled with drawings of a family—two handsome older parents, a tall willowy man with Thom’s gentle eyes, and a shorter, plump woman with bountiful curls. There were children, lanky sons and cherubic-faced daughters. They were laughing, eating. Often eating. At picnics, sitting around tables ladened with a feast worthy of royalty. As she continued to flip through the pages, the drawings changed. The Guildhall stood, stark and real as if she stood before it, with its ridiculously large steps and graceful columns. Wren felt her throat tighten. Would she ever go back to that home? Then the pages turned to faces she recognized. Her own, rendered sweetly, so she looked elfin and mischievous. Was this how Thom saw her? Hale came next, strong and brash, Callidus, reserved with keen eyes and graceful fingers. Thom had been kind to his eyebrows, giving them a little more space than reality garnered. There they were eating dinner the first night, playing cards with Lennon in the library, passing the gin bottle. Wren had to move the journal out of the way as the tears began to fall, so they wouldn’t splash the pages. Then there was Sable. As lovely as a saint, a portrait with her hair curling around her, her swanlike neck, her arching imperious brows, her full mouth and large dark eyes. She was so powerful, so alive in that sketch; Wren wished she could pull her out of it and set her back down on the deck.

  She turned the page, her heart keening too much to linger on that image for long. The images turned darker—to the orphanage—Wren recognized the austere walls and patterned floors. But there was Trick, with his mischievous smile and slightly too-large Imbris nose, looking as handsome and regal as ever. She flipped the pages, and there was more. Trick, Trick, the pages were filled with Trick, every possible combination of poses and angles, as if Thom had been performing a study of Trick, watching him as a hunter watches his prey. No. She realized. As an admirer watches his beloved.