Seeker of the Crown

by Ruth Lauren

  To Elysia

  This is for you, like everything else

  Also by Ruth Lauren

  Prisoner of Ice and Snow

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER 1

  “Valor!”

  My head jerks up, and the honey I was toying with falls in a sticky glob onto the golden tablecloth. A servant leaps forward to clean it up.

  “Sorry, Mother.”

  Everyone at the long table in the Magadanskyan palace banquet hall looks at me. It feels just like having the eyes of the other inmates at Tyur’ma on me in the icy dining hall.

  I duck my head, gazing at the fine china plate in front of me. All this food makes me think of Feliks and Katia, but I don’t even know where my friends are.

  “Valor.” This time it’s a low hiss, and Mother shakes her head, her eyes wide. I look down at the threads of the shining tapestry covering the table. More honey. I move my plate over the stain, and Mother’s shoulders slump. She’s sitting opposite me, next to the steward of Magadanskya, Lady Olegevna. Behind her is a raised dais with a large glass case resting on it. Inside, nestled on velvet as deep a purple as Lady Olegevna’s gown, is the music box, displayed on our last night here in celebration of my sister returning it to its rightful owners.

  Mother casts a worried glance at the grand double doors, not for the first time this evening. The first course has already been delayed because Father and Sasha aren’t here. There’s an empty seat next to me where my sister should be sitting, and another next to Mother where Father should be. They’re late to our banquet. In fact, they’ve been busy together for much of the past month.

  Thank the saints this is the last function to attend before we return to Demidova tomorrow. Although, since this particular banquet is in the Raisayevna family’s honor, I could perhaps show a little more decorum as the elder daughter—even if I’m elder by only four minutes.

  I was so happy when Mother asked permission for us to travel here with Father and Sasha so we would never have to be apart again. After all we’d been through, Queen Ana said yes, but now Mother’s talking to Lady Olegevna as if she were Queen Ana’s chief adviser, not Father, and I’m five seconds away from stabbing myself with my silver fork just so I can leave.

  Mother’s hand flutters about, and then goes to her throat. “I can’t think what’s keeping them. I’m so sorry. I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

  Lady Olegevna inclines her head graciously, but I can tell Mother’s embarrassed.

  I leap up, knocking into my chair a little. “I’ll go and find them,” I say, maybe a touch too eagerly.

  “I’ll send someone,” says Lady Olegevna. As steward rather than Queen, she doesn’t wear a kokoshnik, but her hair is piled into hundreds of tiny braids and shot through with pearls that shine in the candlelight.

  “I can do it. I’d like to help. May I?” I look from her to my mother.

  Mother opens her mouth, but hesitates. “Thank you, Valor,” she finally says. “Don’t be too long.”

  I try not to run on the way out, but I’m not certain I do a particularly good job of it.

  I close the double doors behind me as quietly as I can, then take a big breath in the wide, empty hallway. I’ve been kept by Mother’s side under one pretense or another for an entire month. Since the day we returned the music box to Lady Olegevna and Queen Ana told me that Princess Anastasia had escaped the dungeon she’d been sent to for framing my sister, I’ve had no more leeway than a pup on a short leash. I liked it at first. After missing Mother so much while I was locked up in Tyur’ma, it was nice to be near her all the time. But Sasha and I are thirteen. We’re apprenticed already. I can’t wait to start on the journey home tomorrow so I can get back to the estate. The sooner this banquet is over and done with, the sooner I can take out my bow.

  I hurry down the hallway. The floors here are wooden, not like the mosaics and tiles in Demidova, and the soft indoor shoes we all have to wear rub at my feet in a way my boots never do. I kick them off and pick them up—the servants are all busy in the kitchens or the banquet hall, so there’s no one to see.

  I gain speed until I’m practically running down the hallways and through the expansive library, where I quickly cast about for Sasha but find only a couple of sleeping dogs. The palace is empty. I head for the hallway that contains Father’s temporary office. I should have gone there right away, and it occurs to me only now that I’m going to look foolish—at best—if Father and Sasha arrive at the banquet hall before I return.

  The Magadanskyan palace, unlike the white turrets and onion domes of Demidova, is blocky and low, spread out in a long, wide cross, and completely adorned in gold. I head to the left arm of the cross, where I know Lady Magadanskya conducts all official business, and where Father and Sasha have been working for much of the time we’ve been here. I’m flying down a narrow corridor when I hear a single word from inside one of the offices. I slide to a halt.

  The word was “traitor.”

  And the voice was Father’s.

  I’ve just run past his office. I recognize it now, though the door looks the same as all the others in this hallway.

  I back up and quiet my breathing, about to knock on the door.

  “… when no one in the city, least of all Queen Ana, has been any the wiser as to how she got out or where she went, it only makes sense. She is his sister, after all.”

  Father again. He has to be talking about Anastasia. And … her brother, Prince Anatol? Anatol helped me uncover Anastasia’s crimes and free Sasha. How can he be a traitor? I lower my hand and tilt my head a little closer.

  “What will happen to him?” asks Sasha. Her voice sounds the way I feel. After what Anatol did for Sasha and me, I’d do anything for him.

  “He’s to be banished,” says a voice I don’t recognize—a woman’s voice, low and hard to hear. Banished?

  “But to where?” asks Father. “When is this happening? My family and I can’t leave tonight. There’s a banquet. Lady Olegevna expects—”

  The woman cuts him off, but I can’t make out what she says. I press forward and almost push my head through the gap in the door. I catch a glimpse of her Demidovan Queen’s Guard uniform but hear only the words “palace” and “midnight tonight.”

  “We’ll be back in Demidova before then,” says Father, his black eyebrows drawn down. “But right now, we really can’t delay Lady Olegevna any longer.”

  He looks at Sasha, and she nods. The guard bows and spins around smartly, and I turn tail and dash partway down the hallway, halting to pull my shoes on and start walking back toward Father’s office. I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping like that; Father wouldn’t like it.

  I hear them all say a few more things to one another, things I can’t decipher at all, and then the guard exits the office, marching away down the hallway without a glance at me. Sasha and Father emerge.

  “Valor!” says my sister. She sounds pleased to see me.

  I smile. Strang
e to say, but even though the whole family came to Magadanskya so we could be together, I’ve barely seen her at all.

  “I came to find you both,” I say. “The banquet’s already started.”

  Father nods. “We’d better hurry.” He strides away on long legs, and Sasha and I scurry to keep up.

  The crease between Sasha’s eyebrows is almost as deep as Father’s, but when she catches me looking, she smiles. “Are you looking forward to going home?”

  I nod, surprised that this is what she asks. “I am. Is everything okay?”

  She takes my hand as we jog to match Father’s pace. “Of course. You know how it can be once we start in on discussions. I’m sorry you had to leave the banquet to find us.”

  Now it’s my turn to frown. I didn’t mind leaving the hall at all. Surely she knows that.

  I lower my voice. Father’s outstripped us anyway, despite our best efforts.

  “Is everything all right in Demidova?”

  Sasha stares at me for a second, her dark eyes wide, and then blinks. “Oh, you mean the Queen’s Guard? Yes, of course. Just the weekly update—apparently Anatol’s cousin Inessa is visiting. It’s nothing. I know how much politics bore you. Come on, let’s catch up with Father. I’m hungry.”

  She speeds up and I frown at her back, feeling a pinch of annoyance at the back of my throat. We discussed things as important as this right under Peacekeepers’ noses in the laundry room at Tyur’ma—is it really so difficult now to tell me what’s happened to Anatol?

  I hurry after my sister and father. I should control my impatience better—once we’re seated in the banquet hall, Sasha will tell me what she knows. But my mind races as my feet fly across the library floor. I never had the chance to see how Anatol took the news about his sister escaping; Queen Ana whisked him away after the music-box ceremony, and my father, as the queen’s advisor and ambassador, was instructed to immediately travel to Magadanskya with Lady Olegevna and meet with the court there in Queen Ana’s stead. She couldn’t leave with Princess Anastasia missing.

  I’ve thought of little else while I’ve been trapped in Magadanska: Who helped the princess escape? Where is she now? What will she do?

  Now I add another question I can’t answer: Why is Anatol being banished?

  As we reach the banquet hall, servants open the doors for us. Father holds up his hands and sweeps into the room, offering apologies and a joke at his own expense. When I look over at my sister, she’s doing the same thing as she glides through the hall. I tug at the heels of my palace slippers.

  By the time Father and Sasha take their seats, the whole company is smiling, and Lady Olegevna is summoning the first course of food. Sasha’s face is as smooth and serene as a bronze statue.

  I give her a pointed look. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” We can talk in code if we need to; it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve sat in a dining hall and passed secrets to each other.

  “Yes, delicious,” she says, taking a large bite of the soft, doughy bread a servant has placed in front of her.

  “No one’s listening to us,” I say. “We can talk about anything.” I don’t even bother to whisper, because it’s true: both Mother and Father are talking with Lady Olegevna, and no one is even looking at us.

  “What do you want to talk about? Are you looking forward to going to home?”

  She already asked me that. My annoyance returns, but now it’s mixed with disbelief. I keep thinking she’s just being cautious, but as the evening wears on, with courses of meats and fruits and sparkling-cold ices and speeches and applause, she says nothing. As we pack up the last of our things before bed and bid each other good night, she says nothing. While we wait for the carriage to be loaded in the bright, cold sunshine the next morning, stamping our feet on the glittering snow, she says nothing. The journey back to Demidova stretches through the day and into dusk, and my heart gets smaller, my throat tighter.

  She’s going to keep it from me. She’s not going to tell me Anatol’s been arrested, not going to tell me he’s been banished, or why. She’s not going to say anything at all.

  CHAPTER 2

  I stare straight ahead without moving, my eyes trained on the small, unlit doorway across the street. We arrived back in Demidova only two hours ago, but I’ve already been hidden deep in the shadows at the mouth of this alley for twenty minutes.

  Four months ago I faked an assassination attempt on the prince in order to get arrested and break Sasha out of Tyur’ma. Now I need to find out why the prince has been banished. But I’m wondering if I’m in the wrong place—if I should have lain in wait somewhere in the cobbled square where I could see the front entrance of the Demidovan palace through the golden gates instead.

  I only know about this particular exit from Sasha, who collects these details of palace life, magpie-like, from our father. It’s a little-known door usually used by visiting dignitaries who want to avoid the gaze of the general public during their meetings with the queen. I’m betting it’s also being used for a far different purpose tonight. But I’ve been wrong before. Sasha doesn’t tell me everything.

  The clock tower chimes the twelve beats of midnight. I glance up, blinking, just to give my eyes a rest. I’m tired after traveling all day. The turrets and domes of the palace are bleached by starlight on this crisp, snow-covered night. Flakes fall out of the darkness, adding to the ankle-deep layer on the ground. A muffled noise snaps my attention back to the door. I lean forward, holding my breath.

  The sound repeats—the quiet snick of a lock—and the door opens, pushing a small drift of snow in an arc. A cloaked figure scans the side street, then beckons behind. Others step out onto the unlit road—three of them following the first.

  I draw back into the darkness, pressing against the rough stone of the wall as the four move past, quick and silent in their furred boots. I try to keep my breathing measured and even, but my heartbeat won’t quiet, won’t let me release the tension tightening every muscle in my frozen body. My crossbow is strapped to my back, just in case, and I reach up to touch its solid presence.

  One of the figures is shorter than the others, though not by much. I inch forward to see his face, to see if it is really my friend. I catch a glimpse of dark hair, the profile of a straight nose, and nothing more, but it’s enough.

  Prince Anatol.

  I let all four figures get almost to the bottom of the empty street before I slip out of the alley and follow, keeping to the shadows, hugging the walls of first the bank and then the furrier’s.

  I shift the bow on my back, angling it so it doesn’t scrape against a wall and give me away. At the end of the street the four figures turn left, and I hurry after them, the soft snow compacting under my boots.

  We go on for several turns, and I would be enjoying the chance to put my tracking training to good use if it weren’t for the circumstances. All I wanted was to sink into my bed the way Mother and Father and Sasha did. My parents would be frantic if they found out I was here, but since Sasha wouldn’t tell me what was happening, I had no choice but to sneak out of the house.

  There’s a sound behind me. I only hear it because I’ve paused to avoid a street lamp. It’s the slight creak of a tread on new snow. My hand shoots up to the bow at my back. I glance ahead, only my eyes moving. The last cloaked guard of the four walks under the illumination of some tavern windows and disappears around a corner.

  I weigh my options and dash forward, hoping the snow will muffle my footfalls. I can’t lose sight of the prince now, even if someone else is following him.

  My breath clouds the air as I reach the tavern, laughter and shouts drowning out any trace of noise behind me. I reach a crossroads as huge, thick snowflakes suddenly begin falling out of the night onto five narrow, cobbled lanes that spiderweb away from the intersection. I turn in a circle, blinking the snowfall away. A dull glint catches my eye down at the bottom of one of the lanes—a sword, maybe—and I take the chance, running flat-out. Keeping my cover i
sn’t worth it if I lose track of the prince in what’s rapidly becoming a blizzard.

  Buildings press in on either side, wind whipping through the space between. I could be back in Tyur’ma, heading for the cell block in the harsh, cold grounds with my heart frozen inside me. I stop suddenly, breathing hard, and there it is again—a scuffle behind me. The sound of someone stopping themselves a pace too late.

  I spin around, but the snowfall is fast and insistent and I see nothing, so I turn and charge on again, keeping the prince in sight, holding one hand up to shield my eyes. My legs are burning with cold now, but I go faster, dodging into the shadows outside a tall building with a chimney stack pushing gray smoke out against the snow.

  I stop, skidding slightly into a drift, trying to get my bearings, and the person following me stops too.

  The view ahead is obscured, but the path we’re on is long and straight. The prince is far ahead of me, but the road is long enough that I have time to do something about my pursuer and still catch up to him—I hope.

  I sidestep quickly to the right, ducking into the shadows, and jump up, clinging to the bottom of a fire escape for one precarious second before I haul myself up and onto it. Then I wait, hands stinging from gripping the cold metal.

  A figure appears below me, moving hesitantly, peering into the swirling snow.

  I can’t see much—just the top of a dark ushanka—but even in thick furs the figure is slight. Smaller than me. But even if they weren’t, I’m not about to let anyone stand in my way.

  I hurl myself off the fire escape and drop onto the person below. They crumple to the ground with a grunt, and we both sink into calf-deep snow.

  I scrabble at the furs beneath me as the person struggles. As they twist around, their ushanka falls off and a braid comes loose, a dark rope across the white ground. My hands go slack, and my pursuer throws me off so that I land on my backside in a drift.

  “Sasha?”

  “Yes. Sasha,” says my sister, spitting snow. “And we need to hurry, or we’re not going to make it through those gates before they close, and then we’ll never get to speak to Prince Anatol.”