by Marisa Mills
Lucian roared and slashed forward, with a fierce claw made of smoke and blue flame. Gregory whipped out a staff from beneath his coat, blocking the attack deftly. There was a crackle of electricity and a burning smell as the magic collided. Lucian yelped and limped back to my side.
“Your gifts are impressive. Somehow you’ve charmed this demon to defend you, without the containment sigils. Maybe you could win their trust for us. Make them understand their true purpose is to serve their masters.”
“That will never happen,” I spat.
“Even so, there may be a place for you by my side. And trust me, you’d rather be at my side than in my sights.” A chill spread down my neck as his eyes scanned my body.
“And perhaps, I might be coaxed into giving you something you really want,” Gregory said, his hand brushing my thigh. “You’re interested in Alexander, and I wouldn’t be too distraught if my youngest son married a countess, provided she didn’t have extravagant debts.”
My breath caught in my throat. Was this the real reason King Gregory had agreed to do away with the Rosewood debts? If he got rid of Dorian and married Alexander off to me, he’d basically be seizing the Rosewood fortune for himself. It seemed too elaborate, even for him, but also vaguely plausible. It wouldn’t have been the most absurd plan I’d ever been a part of.
“I—I’m never going to be a countess,” I said. Viviane would be taking over for her mother.
“Someone will have to take Dorian’s title when he dies,” the king said. “It wouldn’t be all that difficult to ensure it’s you. It’s clear that speaking to demons is a type of magic prevalent in your bloodline, and it might be beneficial for my family to have that particular gift in ours.”
He’s going to breed it out of you, Lucian growled.
Was this was the king’s plan? To win me over with promises of marriage and status? He really didn’t know me at all. The thought of being married to Alexander made my heart flutter, but somehow the king had ripped the joy out of it and made it seem dirty and self-serving. I’d be sacrificing an uncle for a husband.
“Think about it,” the king said. “I realize you think I’m cruel, but I must do what is best for Reverie. You’d be a princess, and you don’t even have to bloody your hands. As for Jessa’s parents, rest assured I’m taking appropriate precautions to protect our kingdom. And because I’m merciful, I’m imprisoning them in these apartments rather than interrogating and torturing them. I could’ve chosen to make examples of them, which—I assure you—is what Aubade would do if they had a prisoner of comparable rank, at least once we’re formally at war. Military executions are so gallant, after all. Did you know they used to make people walk the plank? Holes were drilled through the palace grounds so prisoners could be dropped straight through to the Lower Realms. It was quite the gathering. It’s been awhile since we’ve held one of those, but I suppose I could uncover the pits and bring the custom back. Maybe we’ll start with Greta—”
“Don’t,” I said, rising to my feet suddenly. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt them.”
I wanted to vomit, and my head was reeling. I had to get out of this room.
The king smiled. “I’m glad we had this little chat. I expect you to be much more gracious at our next meeting. Like a proper daughter-in-law.”
I bowed once more and left, hurrying through the halls once I was out of sight. I ran down the wide staircase, my heart hammering as I clutched the wooden bannister for support. When the butler opened the massive front door, I sighed in relief at the fresh air of Reverie’s streets. I darted into the thickest part of the crowd, hoping I could vanish in the people.
The king might be right about Jessa’s parents, Lucian said.
“What? No way.”
Your nobleman didn’t trust them.
How did Lucian know that? Dorian had never even mentioned Jessa’s parents.
Think about it. Your nobleman came to them when they arrived, expressing sympathies for their daughter being attacked. Does that sound like your uncle?
“Maybe he was just being nice,” I said.
Dorian is never just nice, unless he’s getting what he wants.
“And the rest?” I asked.
I hate that he can hear me, Lucian grumbled. But I won’t pretend the idea of you being a countess is the worst idea ever. I wouldn’t mind someone like you being an aristocrat. But if we’re not careful, you’ll end up as Countess of Dreg Mountain; the pile of mage crap that used to be a floating city.
“Clever,” I sighed. “But not wrong. And that’s only if the king’s mad plan succeeds enough to keep Reverie afloat for another century.”
Long enough for your prince to fulfill his promise.
I bit my lip. Maybe if I married Alexander, we’d fulfill his promise together. Someday, once the king was gone. After Aubade was destroyed and my uncle was dead. Somehow it didn’t seem like the happily-ever-after I’d heard about in fairy tales.
“Seriously, what am I going to do, Lucian?”
The demon sighed. Stay alive another day, he said. Maybe that’s enough.
These political schemes were so tiring. No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t think I would ever be able to understand the back-alley negotiations that kept the government running. In the Scraps, we had a saying. When your knuckles are bloody, use a knife. Diplomacy was overrated. I’d just have to find another way.
Seven
AS SOON AS THE KING’S guards escorted me back to the Academy, I ducked outside toward the front gate. The guard seemed to have doubled overnight, at least ten guards lined up in either direction, with Kit standing in the middle of the gate. He’d traded the roguish suits he usually wore to a tight-fitting general’s uniform, and a heavily jeweled rapier that speckled the dark fabric with shiny red spots.
“I can’t let you go out again,” Kit said, crossing his arms.
I bit my lip and glanced fleetingly at the Academy gates behind the prince, and the silent guards watching us. It was too bad Kit was there; if it’d just been the guards, I might’ve been able to charm them into letting me leave, anyway. Unless they recognized my face from the trials.
“It’s just to see Dorian,” I said. “Surely, I’m allowed to see my own uncle, aren’t I?”
“You are,” Kit said, “but we can’t allow any students to leave without an escort.”
“Since when?” I asked.
“Since today, per the king’s orders,” Kit replied. “He’s going to make a formal announcement this evening, but for now—”
“I thought he was speaking this weekend?” I asked.
“He moved it up. For security reasons, the students and faculty will be protected during the appearance.”
So you can’t hear what he’s saying, Lucian said.
“How about royal heirs?” Alexander said, coming up next to me. Rather than a royal uniform like Kit, Alexander was wearing a long, tapered gray suit and blue cloak that fell past his knees.
“You are supposed to be going to the forum,” Kit said.
“Why? I already know what Father is going to say, and he made it quite clear what my role in the war is to be,” Alexander said bitterly. “Nothing. Sitting on my hands as nobles maneuver their forces into place. I don’t know why he should want my involvement now.”
“We can’t all go to war, Alex,” Kit replied. “I’ll be staying, too. We will be expected to rule in his absence.”
Alexander scowled. The subtle embroidery of his suit shimmered in the light, and I wondered if his shiny black boots had been magically polished. He was always a fine dresser, but today the sharp edges of his outfit made him seem older and more authoritative.
“Then I better start taking on more responsibility,” he said. “I’ll escort Wynter to Dorian’s, and then head to the forum. There’s ample time for me to go to Rosewood and still make Father’s speech. Dorian’s manor is literally two streets away.”
&nbs
p; Kit pressed his lips together in a thin line.
“Please, Your Royal Highness,” I said. “Kit. Dorian told me he’s being sent away, but I don’t know when. This could be my last chance to see him, before he’s gone.”
“Fine,” Kit replied, his shoulders relaxing. “But only because you’re such a pretty lady.” He gave me a crooked grin, and for a second he was the smooth-talking noble I’d met months ago. Alex can escort you to Dorian’s estate, but then, I want him at the forum. If you don’t show, Father will come scold me for it.”
“I’ll be there,” Alexander said, punching Kit lightly on the stomach.
“I’ll send four men with you now, but I’ll expect Dorian to provide you an escort back, Wynter,” Kit said. “With Markus in…such terrible shape, I’d rather not spread my men too thin. The other students need protecting, too.” I felt a lump at the pit of my stomach. As if I didn’t already have enough things to feel guilty about, now I was stealing guards away from the Academy.
“I’m sure Dorian will bring me back safe and sound,” I said.
Kit’s smile was strained. “Very well,” he replied, waving us on.
Alexander linked his arm with mine, something fierce in the movement. The guards unlocked the black iron gates and pulled them open enough for us to slip through, before taking up positions behind us, following along as we headed into town. After a few minutes, they’d settled at a polite distance behind us, giving us freedom to talk.
I brushed my shoulder against Alexander’s and gave him a tentative smile.
“Thank you,” I said.
Alexander shrugged. “I’ve been a tack under Kit’s thumb all day. It’s nice to get away for a while. For the most part.” Alexander shot the guards a venomous look. “I can’t even bathe without father’s private militia accompanying me.”
I caught the eye of one of the men. There were subtle differences in the uniforms that let me know they were in the king’s private service. One of them had tattoos all the way up his arms, and golden rings in his ears. The others looked more like the battle-mages I’d seen in the king’s private quarters, with trimmed beards and curved blades that flickered with molten light.
“So you aren’t going to fight?” I asked.
A few people walking along the streets paused and watched us. Our royal entourage was attracting attention. I wasn’t sure if the anger and suspicion I saw in their eyes was directed at me, Alexander or the royal family in general.
“No,” Alexander replied. “It’s completely ridiculous, too. Father is going. Hector, Art, and Castrel are all going. I don’t see why I should have to stay. I’m not even needed here.”
I bit my lip to keep from saying the words on my tongue. I need you.
He saw my hesitation and scowled. A look of something like shame crossed his face and he slowed his steps. I turned to face him.
“Don’t you get it, I’m useless here. I’ve been training most of my life, but until the other day, I’d never been in a real fight. Those thugs could have killed you, and I would have had to watch them. I’m a prince, and I couldn’t even protect you from three bandits.”
“They surprised us, and we were shaken from the quake.”
“I should have kept my head. I shouldn’t have panicked.” His eyes were watering and a look of abject horror crossed his face, as if he were reliving the scene. “You were right there, but I couldn’t reach you, I couldn’t stop them.”
“You froze a lake to save me,” I said, looking up through my eyelashes.
“Almost killed you, you mean.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” I countered.
“One demon,” Alexander said after a long pause. “Three bandits. How are we going to save Reverie if we can’t even fight?”
“We fought Celeste,” I said.
“Celeste used me like a pincushion, you mean, with my own sword.”
“I’m glad you aren’t going,” I said. Staying meant he wouldn’t have to fight a war. Staying meant he’d be in Reverie, surrounded by royal guards. He’d be safe. Safer, anyway, than if he’d gone to fight.
I’m not, Lucian said.
Alexander sighed heavily and continued walking, leaving me several spaces behind him. But not before I caught the look in his eye that said he wasn’t resigned. He was going to keep pushing until he saw some action. I hurried to catch up to him as we neared the Rosewood estate.
“Do you really want to fight so badly, you’d go off and pillage Aubade, even when they’ve done nothing wrong?”
Alexander’s breath gave a little hitch. “Well,” he said without slowing down, “Celeste did try to murder us, and everyone else on this space rock. And now that she’s gone, we’re being poisoned and attacked in our fair streets.”
“But we don’t know that Celeste was even sent by Aubade,” I said. “Or who is motivating the rebels in the Lower Realms. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”
“Sure, Wynter,” Alexander said. “And it’s just a coincidence the sky is falling.”
I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.
“Your father cornered me today at his little concentration camp,” I said. “He basically admitted this whole war effort is a plan to steal Aubade’s crystals.” My eyes widened when Alexander’s expression didn’t even flicker.
“You knew,” I gasped, pulling away from him as if I’d been burned.
“I’m a prince,” he shrugged. “I have a duty to protect this kingdom. Regardless of any disagreements I may have with my father, it’s obvious something must be done. If Reverie falls, Aubade would relish the opportunity to destroy us. But if they fall first, we’ll be able to de-arm strategically, at the right time.”
“Did you know he’s forcing Dorian to carry out this insane act? That he’s going to get himself killed?”
“Or he’ll return a hero,” Alexander said coldly, flexing his jaw.
“What about your promise to Lucian?” I asked, lowering my voice. “Enslaving Aubade’s demons—”
I glanced at Alexander, and caught a flicker of guilt in his face.
“Will fix the problem,” Alexander said. “Until we can find a more permanent solution. We just need to be smart about this, and patient. Once I join the Council, and Aubade is no longer a threat, I’ll be able to change everything.”
He’s only saying that to appease you, Lucian snarled.
My heart felt like it was breaking, as I realized Alexander would never be able to keep his promise. If the king had his way, we’d get married, and become loyal citizens, and have children that we’d worry about enough to ignore the fact that our security and safety was built on the backs of demonic forces, and the toys they played with were powered by a disenfranchised race of kidnapped servants. And it hurt how much I still wanted that dream. I wondered how my life would have turned out if I’d never heard Lucian’s voice murmuring in my ear.
Alexander unlinked our arms as we approached the familiar fence running along the edge of the Rosewood estate. He stood there, his arms behind his back, considering me for a long moment, until the stillness grew awkward.
“Um, did you want to come in?” I asked.
Alexander sighed. “Tempting,” he said, “but I gave Kit my word that I’d be prompt for Father’s speech and show my support. Also, I don’t think Fran is very happy with my family right now, and I’ve seen what she can do with a pair of knives.”
“Oh,” I said nervously. “Right.”
Alexander stepped around me and knocked on the door. Then he turned towards me, his face so close that our noses were almost touching. My heart pounded, but he made no move to close the distance. After a moment, he pulled away, letting a rush of cold air between us.
“I’ll see you later,” he said.
“Bye,” I said, as Dorian’s butler opened the door. I’d only seen him a couple of times and scrambled to remember his name. He was a thin man, at least sixty, with thick, dark hair and
discerning brown eyes. I rocked back on my heels and shot him my most charming smile. I was used to Fran greeting me, but I was pretty sure he knew who I was at least.
“Is Dorian available?” I asked.
“I’m unsure, Lady Wynter. Let me ask.”
I lingered in the foyer, feeling like a stranger in what was technically my own home, or at least, could be soon. Unlike Francisca, who always just led me straight to Dorian, the butler insisted on checking with Dorian first. I wondered what I’d do if he refused to see me. The butler returned shortly and took me upstairs, leading me in a darkened parlor. The drapes were shut, and the only source of light streamed in from the gaps between them, casting narrow shafts of light over the tapestry-backed furniture. It took my eyes a moment to adjust before I saw the two figures on the sofa in the corner. Francisca was sleeping, her cheek rested on her lord’s thigh. Dorian had a book open, the pages illuminated by the thin slice of sunlight, but he seemed more invested in trailing his fingers through Francisca’s sleek, auburn hair.
I hesitated, unsure if I was intruding, but Dorian nudged Francisca’s head aside with a soft apology and stood. Francisca raised her head for an instant but fell back onto the sofa with a soft sigh, as Dorian marked his page and closed the book. He beckoned for me, and we passed into a sitting room. This one was much brighter, and more spacious, with silver and blue wallpaper. The door creaked as Dorian closed it behind us. I traced my fingers along the polished wood of a piano and watched him.
“It’s rosewood,” Dorian said.
“The piano?”
“Yes. The wood,” Dorian replied. “That’s…our namesake.”
And here, I’d spent the past several months thinking that Dorian’s title came from a flower.
“Do you play?” I asked.
I realized suddenly that I really didn’t know that much about what Dorian did with himself when he wasn’t scheming.
“I do,” Dorian replied, “quite well, too. But Eleanor is really the musical prodigy. We used to tease her, that she studied music to make up for her magical inefficiencies, but there is power in music as well.”