by Zoe Marriott
On my other side there was a sound – a terrible sound, a tearing wail, hoarse and broken, like the sounds that the desert furies were said to make in men’s nightmares, to drive them mad. A scream of utter despair. I jerked to a halt in shock.
It was the Queen.
She was on her feet, both hands clapped over her mouth, eyes like blue ice in her waxen face as she understood what she had done.
And then her hands dropped and I saw, saw it happen. Saw her despair and grief turn to sheer rage, and turn outwards, away from herself, toward the only other possible target. Her lips peeled back from her teeth, and her finger lifted to point – sharp and unflinching as a dagger.
“She poisoned him! That whore has killed my son!”
31
Katja placed a delicate porcelain cup of herbal tea on the occasional table at my left hand. The brew was amber, and steamed faintly. I stared at it, mind blank, eyes aching and dry.
“Sit,” I croaked.
“Princess...” Katja began, clenching her hands at her sides as if she wanted to wring them.
“Sit. Your hovering is making me tense.”
She let out a miserable, hiccupping laugh as she sank down on the blue sofa opposite me. “Oh, is that all?”
I twitched one side of my mouth at her. It was the closest I could manage to a smile.
“I don’t understand why they won’t let you see him,” she burst out. “You’re his betrothed! It’s your right! If he dies without – it’s just cruel to keep you out.”
“The Queen is cross with me.” I went back to contemplating my tea. I liked tea. It was warm. But my stomach was quivering in a very unpleasant way. I was afraid I might be sick. “I danced with Shell. I’m probably lucky not to be locked up in the dungeon with her... ” My voice broke and I bit down on my lip savagely, relishing the pain and the taste of iron.
“But Shell couldn’t have done this. She has no reason to – and anyone can see that she adores you and Uldar.”
I was tired. So Hellishly tired.
“Miramand knows that,” I explained, wearily. “But she needs someone to blame, and she hates Shell.” I lifted one hand and let it fall. There was no point in telling her, telling anyone, that Miramand herself had poisoned Uldar. She was his mother, and the Queen. They would only think me... What was that word the Silingans used? ‘Hysterical’, that was it. Hysterical. Or insane.
“It’s so horrible. Senseless. Who would even want to hurt Uldar?” She pushed her fingers into her hair, releasing pale wisps that played around her face like the vapour from the cup. “It doesn’t benefit anyone! There are no challengers for the throne, no bastard children or close cousins. We’re the nearest family! If Uldar is still ill or – or dead – when the King dies we’ll all simply be plunged into chaos.”
I looked up from the untouched tea. “If Uldar is ill – when the King dies?”
She sighed, slumping in the chair. “It won’t be long. Not now. Most of the country is shocked he’s been able to make it through this winter, but I think he was hanging on by his fingernails, wanting to get Uldar married and settled.” Katja shook her head. “Seeing Uldar taken this way will finish him.”
She clearly thought I already knew what she was talking about. That it was common knowledge. And it was that, above all things – above my sudden recall of the King’s shaking hands, his obvious and constant exhaustion, his uncertain gait and continuing weight loss – which convinced me. The symptoms I had assumed came from drinking were those of a serious illness. King Radugana was dying. The King was dying.
My mind, fogged with grief and shock and the fatigue of this endless, sleepless night, suddenly woke and began to work, whirring and turning like the wheels and cogs of a water mill.
The King was dying. Not the Queen.
It seemed obvious now. What was this unnamed heart condition, which never stopped her from doing anything strenuous, anything she wanted, but only manifested when she was furious or thwarted? It had been temper that made her blanch, that made her shake – and calculated acting that made her ‘swoon’. She would not have kept Radugana’s illness from me for any other reason than to make her own seem more believable.
The Queen hated apothecaries and herbalists, and banned them from the Silingana. Yet she had put something in a drink meant for Shell which had baffled all the royal doctors, something so rare and potent that young, strong Uldar now lay dying without a hope of a cure.
And this was not her first attempt to ‘dispose’ of Shell, was it? I could no longer deny what I had pieced together, or quiet my suspicions. It had been Miramand’s hand-picked Ice Breaker who had shut Shell in that stable with the bear. Which meant the Queen herself must have dosed her son’s beloved pet with something that would drive Skirpir so furious with aggression, it did not even recognise Uldar.
The only conclusion was that the Queen herself was a herbalist of some skill, an expert in poisons. She had made her disdain for potions and powders clear, and banned other herbalists, because she did not want anyone at hand who might recognise the concoctions she used to get rid of inconvenient obstacles. No one would ever think to suspect her of poisoning.
The King was dying. He might even be dying at his wife’s hand – a long, slow campaign to rid herself of a man she clearly despised. But whether that was true or not, she was a liar, a poisoner, and a would-be murderer. And the heir to the throne now lay deathly ill, and no one could save him. Except, maybe, Shell. Shell, with her remarkable healing ability. Shell, whom the Queen had ordered tossed into the lowest and most secure dungeon of the Palace.
And the only one who knew all of this was me.
I braced my hands on the arms of my chair and pushed to my feet. I swayed for a few breaths, light-headed, centring myself.
“What is it?” Katja rose with her arms outstretched, ready to catch me.
“I must speak to the Queen.”
She nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
I didn’t waste energy trying to dissuade her. She walked loyally by my side all the way to the Queen’s chambers, and did not even argue when I asked her to wait outside.
Some part of me wished to walk straight into the Queen’s room without knocking, as she had done that first frightening morning here in the Silingana. But, unable to overcome my ingrained training, in the end I rapped sharply on the door three times – and swept it open without waiting for her to call.
She was sitting in the dark. No globe, no lamp, not even a candle disturbed the cool shadows of her room. Her chair was turned toward a tall, arched window, toward the dark blue of a night sky where stars lay scattered like wind blown seeds. Their light turned her hair entirely silver.
I steeled myself. Only one thing mattered. Only one outcome was acceptable.
“You must let Shell out of the dungeon.”
She barely stirred. Only kept staring into the sky as if searching for answers. Her voice, when it came, was almost toneless. “I had hoped you would have more judgement than this. Was it so easy for that guttersnipe to seduce you? She is nothing but dirt. Yet now you are here, begging on her behalf as my son lies fighting for his life.”
The carefully chosen words – and I was sure by now that nothing left her mouth that was not coldly chosen for effect – made me cringe with shame, as she had known they would. My voice came out dry and pleading. “He isn’t fighting. He is dying. The doctors have already given up. Shell has an astonishing healing gift – she is the only chance he has now.”
“Nonsense.” Faraway, absent, as if she could barely muster the energy to notice my presence. “He’s young and strong and stubborn. He’ll recover without any help from the vile little slut who tried to kill him.”
“Why do you call her that? Why do you hate her so much? You tried to make me hate her too; you made me believe that she would take Uldar from me. You sent your maid to spread lies about her. Why? What can she possibly have done to you to earn this enmity? You don’t even know her.” A faint
wrinkle of confusion smoothed into understanding at the edge of my mind. “Is it only that she is not part of your plan? That she is not under your control?”
There was a tiny, the tiniest possible wince of reaction. “I am the Queen. Everyone in this country is under my control. Every one of you belongs to me.”
“My Mother always said that a monarch belongs to her people, not the other way around – ”
“And you believed her?”
“My Mother does not lie.” I drew the courage of my convictions around me, before me, like a shield. “Unlike you.”
Her hands curved into claws around the arms of her chair and she rose in a rush, with a sizzle of silks like the warning buzz of a sandsnake. My spine prickled with the need to curl up, to make myself a smaller target for her fury, as she turned on me. “How dare you call me a liar?”
I must throw everything I had at her, all my ammunition. “You’ve done nothing but lie to me since the first day I met you. You’re not dying. You’re not ill at all.”
She went still, her body betraying her even as her gaze stayed level, meeting mine. The face was perfect. Hurt. Uncomprehending. “Why – why would you say such a terrible thing?”
“It’s common knowledge that it is Radugana who won’t last the year. You’ve been lucky to keep me in the dark this long.”
She put a trembling hand to her forehead, turning away. “My son is gravely ill, I – ”
“He drank from a cup that was meant for Shell. And there is only one person in the whole of the Silingana who hates Shell that much. Everyone, even Uldar, knows that.”
I saw the moment she accepted that the charade was over. Something, some veil of motherly concern, of bland, habitual pleasantness, slipped away. The face beneath was sharper, the expression weary and jaded. She dropped her hand from her brow; it was steady as a rock. “Very well. I lied. I am as healthy as a horse. What do you want from me?”
Even though I had already known it, the shameless admission took my breath away. “An apology would be an excellent start. It was a vile, morbid deception. I thought better of you.”
The new version of her face hardened. “Oh, did you? And what about your deception, Princess? The one you have defended so vigorously – throughout the betrothal negotiations, throughout your journey, and since arriving here? The lie you have told every day, to every person you have met?”
A wave of shock, tingling and painful as pins-and-needles, swept through my body, extinguishing the flush from before, making icy sweat break out on my lip. It left me numb. She could only be referring to one thing. I only had one secret.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t investigate the reasons behind that famous falling out with your Mother? Before I agreed to the betrothal? You are broken. Like a beautiful piece of marble, flawless on the surface, with a hidden crack running all through it. Your Mother saw it and rejected you, and your sister took your place. I know it all. Why do you think I chose you, Theoai?”
She saw the flicker of reaction on my face and laughed, a warm and golden chuckle. “Have you treasured my little speech about all your special qualities? How sweet.” She examined me, and there was – pity. Pity on her face. “You wanted the truth, didn’t you? Well, the truth is that Radugana forced me into finding a wife for Uldar when he learned about his – illness. He wouldn’t be put off. So I took care to pick a girl who would be desperate. Someone who would do anything I told her. Exactly as you have always done.”
My nails were digging into my clammy palms. She was right. I had practically rolled myself out at her feet and invited her to tread on me. This woman who had used me. This woman who pitied me. And always had.
I hit back as best I could. “I followed your advice because I trusted you. And that’s why you lied about being ill. To gain my trust. To make me see you as vulnerable. So I wouldn’t believe you were a rival for power.”
“We are not rivals.”
“We didn’t have to be,” I said, more sadly than I had meant to. “I didn’t want to be.”
“You misunderstand. To be my rival you would need to be my equal. You’re nothing but a child who ran away from home because Mama hurt your feelings. I am the Queen of Silinga. To call you a rival for my power would be an insult to me.”
My throat locked. I whispered, “I see.”
She nodded in cool satisfaction. “I hope you do. It will save me a great deal of trouble in the future. Go back to your room and stay out of the way. I will deal with Uldarana – and his whore.”
“No.”
Her face displayed nothing but contempt now. “I really don’t have time for a display of defiance – ”
“You poisoned Uldarana. Your own son. And you will lock up his only hope and watch him die, slowly and painfully, rather than admit it.”
“You have no proof. Nothing but fantastic accusations.” She was still again, still as that sandsnake before it struck. “No one will believe a word you say against me.”
“I don’t need proof. I’m not trying to convict you, I’m trying to save your son, and all I need is Shell out of that prison.”
Prodded beyond endurance, she snarled: “He doesn’t need her! He doesn’t need either of you, or your help!”
I arched my brows, let the quiet fall heavy between us. Her mouth tightened.
“Only your help?” I murmured finally. “Only – you?”
There was no concealing her fury now. “Get out. Go back to your room. Or I will tell everyone, everyone in the palace, the truth about you – that you’re a worthless, twitching, drooling mess.”
The bite struck home, and I felt its venom. My heart was shaking my chest, rattling the cage of my ribs, crushing my lungs until I could hardly breathe. But I could not back down. Not now. Not when everything was at stake.
I thought of Shell, her straight back and dark eyes as she faced down the great furst bear to save the little girl. “Your threats hold no power over me. Nothing you can say will make the slightest difference to my status here if your son dies. I can hardly marry his corpse.”
“He isn’t going to die!”
“Then you have the antidote?” Her hands curled back into claws. I nodded, satisfaction bitter on my tongue. “As I thought.”
“If you defy me, you will regret it.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
“Not as much as I would regret standing by and watching my betrothed die.” I looked her in the eye once more, hoping for a chink, a crack in her armour, the faintest sign of weakness. There was nothing. She was immoveable.
“Do what you must, Miramand – and so will I.”
I turned and marched from the room, and took no care whatsoever to prevent the door slamming behind me.
Found in the ruins of the great library at the Ice Palace of Silingana, after the thaw
After the disaster of the ceremony destroyed everything – after Aramin destroyed everything – even as I wept, and wailed, smashed things, closed myself in my chambers and refused to see my sister... I could not hate her.
You always said one cannot hate something, truly hate it, unless one understands it, Mother. But sometimes, when one understands too well, that makes hate impossible. Aramin’s ambition, her cunning intelligence, her ruthlessness, were the mirror image of my own.
And if I had grown up in her place? I might have done exactly the same thing.
What I could never have done, not if I lived long enough to see the rivers turned to sand, and the sand to blood, and the stars die and fall down out of the skies, was what you did, Mother.
I could never look my daughter, my firstborn daughter, whom I had tested and taught and trained since before she could even walk, whom I had tormented and twisted until she broke, until everything else in her was burned away and there was nothing left to be except the perfect queen I wanted her to be, and tell her:“You are unworthy.”
I could never have confessed to her that it had been in my power to fight for her, to save her, to give her what was rightfu
lly hers – but that I had chosen not to do so.
“Sometimes a ruler must do what is best for all, Theoai. What is best – is not always the same thing as what is right.”
I would never, ever, have been cruel enough to look at her and show her my pity.
No. I could not have done that.
I hope I would have had the courage to take up my sword and kill my daughter cleanly, give her a quick and honourable death, no matter how painful, instead of ripping out her guts with words and leaving her to die slowly, bleeding of her wounds, for the rest of her worthless life.
Rest is for the dead. That is what you always taught me. The lesson I learned that day was a new one.
Pity is more bitter than death.
32
I stopped outside the door and put my face in my hands. My throat and eyes burned with unshed tears of rage, of defeat. Miramand wouldn’t change her mind. To do that, she would have to admit, if only to herself, that she was not in control of this situation – that she had made a fatal mistake. And that, she would not, could not do.
She would never let Shell help Uldar.
I’ll have to do it by myself.
“Princess?”
I skittered back against the wall, clutching at my chest. I had entirely forgotten about Katja. She looked awful. Most of her hair had come loose of its simple knot, straggling around her face and over her shoulders in wild waves. She was ashen and trembling, eyes wide.
“You listened, didn’t you?” I whispered, seizing her arm and dragging her away as fast as I could. “You shouldn’t have done that!”
“I – I didn’t mean to – the door didn’t fully close – I went to shut it but then I heard...” Her voice trailed off. “She’s deranged.”
“Shssssh!” I looked around frantically as I frog-marched her toward my chambers. “Katja, you’re not a foreign princess – you have no protection – if she finds out what you know she’ll murder you!”
“Morogana. Morogana, what am I to do?”