The Deepest Blue

by Sarah Beth Durst

  She plastered a pleasant smile on her face as Lord Maarte and his entourage approached the dock. Lady Garnah fell in beside the queen as Asana swept forward to greet him.

  “Not a word,” Asana murmured to Garnah.

  Lord Maarte was not the type to be amused by Lady Garnah’s outspokenness. It was best if he didn’t notice Garnah at all, and she wished the woman from Aratay would have worn something a bit subtler. Asana wouldn’t have any freedom of movement once they were in the fortress. It would have to be Kelo and Garnah who worked to find her family while Asana provided the distraction. Still, Garnah knew what she was doing—she always seemed to winnow out the necessary secrets.

  And I’ll do what I must.

  Even if it meant being patient when all she wanted to do was rip the fortress apart stone by stone.

  Asana summoned up a warm smile. “Lord Maarte, we have missed you in Yena.”

  He greeted her with a bow and then a kiss bestowed on each cheek. Asana bore them without flinching, much as she wanted to claw off every trace of him from her skin. She held out her hands, and he clasped them.

  “You honor us, Your Majesty,” Lord Maarte said. His voice was sonorous, and his gaze was intense. It was the kind of gaze given by someone firmly convinced of his own handsomeness. She bet he’d never had a moment of self-doubt in his life. Odious man. “We had not expected your visit until next spring.”

  “Blame my new discovery.” Asana gestured toward Kelo, who bowed on cue. She had decided to stick to the truth as much as possible, to hide the lies. “He’s an artist whose wife recently undertook the test. He came to me on her behalf, but it wasn’t sympathy that moved me. It was admiration for the beauty of his work. I am sponsoring him in a grand project: to create portraits of all the most important people on Belene. Since he’s from your island, I thought here was an appropriate place to start.”

  “Wise and kind,” Lord Maarte said with approval. She plastered a smile on her face, as if flattered by his condescension. Surveying Kelo, he said, “He may have lost his wife, but he will gain fame and fortune thanks to your benevolence.”

  “It was within my power to grant him this,” Asana said. She kept her voice light so no hint of her bitterness would seep into her words, and she was gratified when Lord Maarte smiled at her benevolently like he was a proud father. Like he hadn’t imprisoned her own father. She smiled back with surprising genuine happiness.

  It was actually delightful to have a reason to hate him.

  He hadn’t lowered his voice when he talked about fame and fortune, and Kelo had visibly flinched, but she doubted Lord Maarte noticed. Kelo had been labeled and explained, and so Lord Maarte had dismissed him.

  Good, she thought. It helped that Kelo looked so little like a threat with his pretty face and with his wide eyes admiring the structure of the fortress. She knew that until he’d come to the capital, he’d never left his village. Maybe he’d visited a few other towns to sell his charm art, but he wasn’t accustomed to wealth and the kind of beauty that wealth could buy. She hoped that seeing all this wouldn’t change him too much. His innocence was rare and charming. He is exactly the kind of soul that a queen and her heirs should protect.

  In a way, she was doing this for him and others like him, as much as for herself and her family. But my family first. And then I can save whoever else needs to be saved.

  “He’ll need a room with good light, preferably away from other distractions.” Asana had been in the fortress enough times to know which room would fit the description she gave—it was isolated enough that any screams wouldn’t be heard.

  As she hoped, Lord Maarte took the bait. “The east tower. He will not be disturbed there, and the views are lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And while he works, I will show you the wonders of our little slice of paradise. You’ll be pleased to hear we’ve acquired a new chef. . . .” As he continued to extol the luxuries of the Neran Stronghold, Queen Asana allowed him to escort her off the ship. She didn’t look back at either Lady Garnah or Kelo. They knew what to do.

  KELO DIDN’T KNOW HOW HE HAD ENDED UP HERE. HOME BUT NOT home. As he set up his easel in the east tower of the Neran Stronghold, he looked out over the turquoise water and tried not to feel as if he’d fallen off a cliff and was still falling.

  I can do this. For Mayara.

  “It will be the same as in the palace,” Lady Garnah murmured. “Calm yourself.”

  This time, Lady Garnah would be present for the interrogations. There was no point in hiding Kelo’s connection with the queen anymore—he’d come with her. If they failed, it would reflect on the queen.

  We can’t fail.

  His first portrait was a young girl who squirmed as he tried to sketch her, one of Lord Maarte’s nieces. She greedily drank the beverage with Garnah’s potion, but she knew little about who else lived in the stronghold. Her world centered around her tutors and her games. She didn’t venture far beyond her wing.

  Next was an elderly man. And then a steward of the fortress, who should have known every detail of what happened within the walls but didn’t. Kelo began to wonder if they were asking the right questions.

  If a girl and her grandparents had lived here for years, shouldn’t someone be aware of it? He began to wonder if their information was wrong, if the queen’s family wasn’t here at all.

  But then they had luck.

  It came in the form of another child, younger than the niece. Kelo missed how this one was connected to Lord Maarte’s family, but the boy hadn’t missed much. He was a little explorer and told them that proudly, even before he drank the beverage. He claimed he’d seen every inch of the fortress.

  Kelo’s hand shook as he laid a streak of charcoal across the easel. He knew he should feel guilt over drugging a child, but he didn’t. He felt hope.

  “In all your exploring, have you seen a family of three: a girl who would now be eighteen and her two grandparents?” He described them carefully, exactly as Queen Asana had described them to him: the girl had anemone-orange-colored hair, the grandfather had eyebrows that looked like sea cucumbers, and the grandmother walked with a limp and sounded like a dolphin when she laughed hard enough.

  “Oh yes,” the boy said happily. And he proceeded to tell Kelo about a caretaker’s house within the gardens. Most people ignored it, but he noticed that it always had guards around it. It wasn’t obvious—no soldier standing at attention the way they did outside the treasure room—but there was always one walking by, resting on a bench, chatting “casually” with another guard. It made the boy think there was something special inside, but that Lord Maarte didn’t want anyone to know there was something special inside.

  Which is exactly why he had to see what was inside. He was very good at finding special things, he said.

  And so, one day, he pretended to play in the garden and tossed his ball up too high so that it flew over the wall into the caretaker’s yard. He scrambled up the wall after it—and that’s when he found her. A young woman with anemone-orange hair was weeding in the garden. She handed the ball back to him, asked his name, and talked to him until a guard found him and dragged him out by the ear. She’d told him her name was Rokalara.

  They let the boy scamper away when they were finished, and Lady Garnah burst out in a cackle. “I love children! A dozen adults, and they don’t see a thing. They only see what they expect to see. But a child . . . Beautiful! That was delightfully easy. Bodes well, doesn’t it?”

  Kelo was smiling too. If all continued to go as planned, they’d save Queen Asana’s family tonight, and then he’d be home with Mayara tomorrow.

  “I will tell the queen.” She then frowned at Kelo’s easel. “You realize you made that child look like a rabbit, don’t you?”

  Startled, he looked at the canvas. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t captured the child’s features at all.

  “If this works, that will become a part of history—the moment the rabbit boy ch
anged the world. You might want to burn it before history gets ahold of it.”

  He carried the canvas over to the fireplace and set it into the flames. But he wasn’t burning it because he was ashamed of his mistake—he was burning it for the rabbit boy, to protect him, so that later, whether this succeeded or failed, no one would guess that boy had been the key and no one would punish him for it. No more innocents will suffer, Kelo thought.

  Tonight, they were going to set the world right.

  IT WAS A RISK TO PULL HER MIND AWAY FROM THE LEVIATHANS IN THE Deepest Blue and concentrate on the spirits of Belene, but Queen Asana had recently reinforced their dreams. She thought she could spare some power for tonight’s task, so long as she returned to impose her will on the monsters within a few hours.

  It will be over soon.

  The years of separation. Of loss. Of fear. Of failing to be both a mother and a daughter. She hadn’t been able to save her husband, but she hoped he’d be proud of her after today.

  Smiling at Lord Maarte, she patted his hand. Lord Maarte had had his new chef prepare a luscious feast. Asana made her move after the soup course.

  “Tell me about trade with Aratay,” she said to Lord Maarte. Reaching out with her mind, she touched the spirits in the garden. Lady Garnah was already there, moving through the shadows. She saw her through the spirits’ eyes as Garnah blew her purple sleep powder into the eyes of the guards. They collapsed, and Asana used the spirits to bind the guards in vines. She then called on an ice spirit to freeze the locks.

  Garnah tapped the frozen locks with a rock, and they shattered.

  Inside the garden, Asana felt the spirits ordered by the heirs to watch her family. She overrode their minds, tapping into her anger at Lord Maarte for using heirs for such a purpose to fuel her. She doubted the heirs knew who the prisoners were, only that Lord Maarte had ordered the heirs to guard them, probably claiming it was the queen’s wishes.

  She commanded an earth spirit to burrow a tunnel from the garden to the shore. Garnah would lead her family through the tunnel to freedom. Kelo had been instructed to meet them on the beach, to keep watch over their escape route. Her family would be frightened, unsure if they could trust either spirits or strangers, and she hoped Kelo would reassure them until she could arrive.

  She felt the earth spirit burst through the soil. Everything inside her itched to be there. Soon she’d see her family. Soon her daughter would be in her arms again. Politely, she dabbed her lips with a napkin. “The soup is divine,” she told Lord Maarte. “Please give my compliments to your chef.”

  She continued the meal, listening as Lord Maarte extolled the virtues of a proper diet. Fruits were the key, but it had to be the right kind of fruits. Mangoes, for example, were excellent, but you needed the proper ripeness for the full nutrients. “You must inform the palace chefs that they need to serve you at least one mango a day,” he told her.

  “The palace chefs look after my health admirably.”

  “You are Belene’s most valuable asset,” Lord Maarte said. “Are you feeling well? You seem distracted.”

  “Only by the glorious flavors of the meal,” she replied with a smile. “Tell me how you came to learn so much about the quality of food. I know you have many responsibilities.”

  “Observation, of course. I am keenly aware of my surroundings at all times. It’s important to be present in the moment, don’t you think?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Her family was in the tunnel . . . but why did she see only two figures? She couldn’t tell, her vision distorted through the spirits’ eyes, who was missing. Her heart clenched, and she ruthlessly shoved every shred of fear deep inside her. Bearing down with her mind, she sent wind spirits into the house, searching through every crevice.

  Find the missing one! Now!

  She felt like screaming when they found no one else. If they’d separated her family . . .

  Or if they’d done worse . . .

  She thought of her husband and then ruthlessly shoved the memory away. She was committed to this course of action, and this time she wasn’t going to fail.

  “Speaking of moments,” Queen Asana said, smiling brightly at Lord Maarte, “I wish to see the sunset.”

  He frowned. “Are you unwell?” he asked again.

  She rose, which forced the rest of the diners to quit eating as well. “Continue, please. Your meal shouldn’t be allowed to cool to satisfy my whim. In the palace, I view the sunset every evening. I did not realize I would miss the moment this much. And in truth, I could use some fresh air. Perhaps the sea travel has left me unsettled.”

  “Allow me to escort you,” Lord Maarte said, popping out of his seat.

  She’d rather have dropped the soup bowl on his head than take his arm, but she did, and they glided out of the dining hall. She saw the other courtiers looking at each other, unsure of whether to continue or not. Protocol said they shouldn’t eat if the lord and queen were not eating, but with both of them leaving the room . . . She hoped they ate. It wasn’t the chef’s fault that this was happening, and the soup had been delicious.

  Especially once she’d added Garnah’s antidote for poison.

  It was strong stuff, Garnah’s special blend to combat several different kinds of poisons, so it would eventually make Asana queasy, but Garnah had insisted she dose every dish before eating, as a precaution. Lord Maarte won’t be happy with you, she’d said, for visiting off schedule. While Asana didn’t believe he’d go so far as to poison her, she saw the sense in not taking risks, especially when she was so close to having what she dreamed.

  She wondered if it meant anything that Lord Maarte had asked twice if she felt well. She wished she dared ask if he had tried to poison her—and if so, why? Did he know she was close to being reunited with her family? Did he suspect he was close to losing every shred of power she could rip away from him?

  They walked out of the spiral shell to see that the sun was already beginning to melt into the horizon. The clouds were stained rose red and orange.

  “I often thought that the sun resembles a ball of liquid gold, pierced so that it appears to drain out,” Lord Maarte said, halting to admire the view. Asana had to halt as well, though what she wanted to do was run down to the shore and see who was missing.

  “I didn’t know you were a poet,” Asana said. “That’s a lovely image.”

  “I’m told I have a way with words. Your Majesty . . .” He paused. “I hesitate to bring up something delicate, especially while you are feeling indelicate, but your visit here . . . it’s unusual.”

  “It’s not unusual for me to visit the strongholds,” Queen Asana said. “I merely changed the order.” She flashed him her brightest, friendliest smile. He suspects. How can he? If he tried to interfere, she wondered how far she would go to stop him.

  As far as it takes.

  She hoped, though, that she wouldn’t have to prove it.

  And she hoped, too, that his new chef hadn’t used an uncommon poison in the soup. Finish this, she told herself. Get to Garnah and your family, and all will be well.

  “I know,” Lord Maarte said smoothly. “But I’m also curious. My Family strives to serve you in every way possible. Are you displeased with us?”

  “Of course not,” Asana said. “You have been loyal to Belene.” He probably believed he was loyal. He probably sees himself as a hero. Pompous ass.

  “Your artist . . . I deeply regret what happened to his village. It is my concern that this is what your visit is truly about. We deployed the heirs as we thought best, for the good of the island of Olaku. The damage to his village meant that this fortress was protected.”

  She almost smiled. He’d given her another reason to be here—perhaps he hadn’t guessed her true purpose after all. “You are correct. I wished to hear how that affair had been managed so poorly. I gave you advance warning of the storm. It should have been prevented.”

  “The heirs misjudged its trajectory. They disagreed with your asse
ssment on where and when it would make landfall. Forgive me, but I thought their information was more accurate, since they were closer to the storm.”

  “An understandable decision.” Or more accurately, bullshit. “Have you sent workers to help with rebuilding the village?”

  “Of course.”

  Queen Asana knew he’d sent only minimal workers. Most had come at her expense from the capital, but she said nothing of it. “Do you have thoughts on how we can prevent a repeat of this?”

  “You must trust our judgment,” he said immediately. “We want what is best for Belene.”

  Really? His answer to “you messed up” is “trust me more”? But Queen Asana knew the routine. She bowed her head. “Do you know if my parents and daughter are well?” It was common for her to ask about them, with whatever ruling Family she spoke with. This time, though, she desperately wanted an answer. There was someone missing, and she wanted to know who and why.

  Both her parents were elderly. If one of them had faded and they hadn’t allowed her to say goodbye . . .

  Or if Roe had sickened and they hadn’t been able to cure her . . .

  The Families wouldn’t want to lose their leverage by telling Queen Asana one of their hostages had died.

  Don’t leap to conclusions, she cautioned herself.

  “I have heard reports that they are,” Lord Maarte said kindly.

  “And are they happy?”

  “Of course,” Lord Maarte said. “Their needs and wants are all of utmost importance. As I have said before, you do not need to worry about them. That’s why they are being looked after so carefully, to relieve you of the burden of worry.”

  “I appreciate that,” Queen Asana said. “Those in the Deepest Blue are restless. They sense a coming shift in seasons. It touches their dreams.”

  “Are they giving you difficulty?” he asked, concerned.

  She was pleased he accepted the change in topic. It was good to remind him why he needed her. No one but a queen could keep the worst of the wild spirits asleep. The heirs lacked the reach. It required the extra boost of power provided by bonding with the island spirits. “This time of year is always tricky. Requires an experienced queen.” The implication was: they were lucky to have her.