That was very bad news. “And the kraken?” I asked.
“An archer up at the Tower shot it down two hours ago; there are plenty of witnesses. But on my way here, I saw Sir Christopher Linnet, who says he spotted it—or another just like it—not half an hour ago, surfacing near London Bridge.” Nat rubbed the mud off one cheek with the back of his hand. “But what worries me most is that we’re only two hours off low tide, and yet the waters haven’t gone down.”
“Not at all?”
“Not so much as an inch. Sir Barnaby’s been keeping track of that for us, and I don’t doubt his measurements. I’ve told the King that if it continues this way, I think we may need to evacuate the whole city.” He looked at me with hope in his eyes. “Unless you’ve found a way to stop all this?”
“Not yet.” I hated to disappoint him, but that was the hard truth. “I may have found a clue, though. I’m just not sure what it means, but I’m hoping Sybil can help me. I was looking for her when I ran across Penebrygg.”
“It was good he found you.”
Our eyes met, and there was a light in his that made me blush. But before either of us could speak, something shot through the gap between door and sill: a cheap printed broadside on a page of foolscap.
I was closest to the door, so I picked it up for him. I read the title in disbelief.
THE WICKED CHANTRESS
or, The Melusine-Monster
Nat tried to grab it from me. “Don’t read it, Lucy. You don’t need to see this.”
“I think I do.” I yanked it out of his reach, into the full light of the lantern. Beneath the huge black letters of the title, a crude woodcut showed a dark-haired woman dancing in the sea while a serpent snaked around her. In the background, three ships were wrecked on rocks, and a sea monster was attacking London.
Heart knocking in my chest, I scanned the lines. According to the ballad, I was a magic-maker who was now betraying my country. Like Melusine before me, I had revealed my true nature and made alliance with my own monstrous kind to destroy England.
I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to remain calm. I failed. I read the lines again. These things spread like fire on thatch. Already half of London had probably read it or heard it sung. I thought of the people in the Great Hall holding up their crosses.
“Lucy, don’t look like that.”
I didn’t look up. “You knew what this was, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Is it everywhere?”
“I don’t know. I’ve gathered up all the ones I’ve found.” He gestured toward the soggy papers he’d laid facedown on his desk. It was a thick pile.
“You should have told me,” I said.
“I had other things I wanted to say to you first.”
I shook my head, hardly hearing him. I was still staring at the broadside.
Nat covered the ugly title with his hand. “Lucy, listen to me. Please.”
He touched the curve of my cheek, as if I were a bird he feared would fly away. “I said we were strangers, but I was wrong. I could never feel about a stranger the way I feel about you. I’m not going to let you face this alone. From now on, I’ll be right by your side—if you’ll let me.”
Everything blurred before me. I ached to say yes to him, but how could I? The world was so much against me—and it would turn against him, too, if he stood with me. Loving him as I did, how could I possibly let him in for that? Especially when I was half-afraid he was making the offer out of pity.
Biting my lip, I pulled away. “Nat, you can’t afford to be paired off with someone the whole world thinks is a monster.”
“It’s just one broadside,” he said gently. “It’s awful, I know, but it’s not the whole world.”
“It’s not just the broadside, Nat.” The foolscap crinkled in my hands. “People are screaming when they see me. They’re holding up crosses. They hate me.”
“It’s because of this flood,” he said. “It’s made everyone lose their heads.”
“It’s not just because of the flood. People mutter things and gossip behind my back even when everything’s fine. At best, they say I’m different, but most don’t stop there. I’m not human, they say. I’m a witch, a harpy, a she-monster. And if they see us together, you can be sure they’ll smear you right along with me.”
“I can live with that,” he said steadily.
“That’s easy to say, when they haven’t done it to you yet.” He started to protest, but I stopped him. “You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. I won’t let you throw that away.” I thought of Sybil and how unhappy she was. I couldn’t bear to do that to Nat.
There was a stubborn set to his jaw now. “I’ll do what I please.”
But I was stubborn too—stubborn and exhausted and worried half out of my mind about how to save us all. I had to work hard not to sound sharp. “And what about me? Do you think I want to live with a man who’s sacrificed everything for me? Because reputation is the least of it, Nat. Think of all you stand to lose. As long as we’re together, your life will never be comfortable, never be normal. I’ll always be traveling for the King, for one—”
“He makes you travel too much,” Nat said.
This was exactly the kind of argument that would make life together a misery. “I need to travel, Nat, and anyone who marries me is going to have to accept that.”
“I can accept a lot,” Nat said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the King is becoming too dependent on you, and that’s not good for anyone. It would be better for us all if your magic were used more sparingly.”
I’d secretly wondered as much myself, but somehow hearing Nat say it didn’t help. My grip tightened on the broadside. “Look, if you want a normal life—”
“It’s not a normal life I’m after.” The amber light of the lamp caught him full in the face, and his gravity took me aback. “I thought I’d made myself plain, Lucy. What I want is you.”
There was a directness in what he said, and an honesty, that made my throat ache. But it didn’t change how things were.
“Maybe you think that’s what you want now,” I said quietly. “But sooner or later, you’re going to wish you’d chosen someone else—someone who’s easier to live with, someone you haven’t given up so much for. You’ll want your independence back. You’ll want to leave.” The way my father left my mother.
“I won’t.”
I looked straight at him. “You left me before.”
That silenced him.
“I can’t live through that again.” I was still raw from the first time. “I tell you it won’t work.”
His face grew fierce. “So you’re saying we’re done? That I should go find someone else?”
My head pounded. I felt as if I were teetering on the top of a precipice, and everything hung on what I said next. But I couldn’t take the words back, any more than I could change who we were, or how the world worked.
No man wants a wife who works magic.
“Yes,” I said. “I think you should find someone else.”
He turned away from me and went to stand by the dying fire. “If that’s really how you feel, maybe I will.”
There was nothing more to say. Feeling sick, I picked up the lantern and walked out. Down in the courtyard, the dark sky was still weeping with rain. I trudged on shaky legs across the flooded cobblestones.
I’d saved the person I loved from a life he would hate. I’d saved us both from a painful mistake. That had to be right.
Why, then, did it feel as if I’d just laid waste to everything that mattered?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FINDING THE QUEEN
I didn’t dare let myself stop; if I stopped, I would cry. Instead I marched myself off to the Great Hall to talk to Sybil about the scrying. If people chose to hold up crosses when they saw me coming, I would just have to deal with it. I had work to do.
But the trouble started before I even had a chance to enter the Great Hall. Just outsi
de the doors, half a dozen ladies-in-waiting were standing in a tight gossipy knot. When they saw me approach, they broke apart. Had the gossip been about me? Had they seen the broadside?
By the look of them, they had. Before this, they’d never been friendly, but now they were overtly hostile. I saw some of them fingering crosses. For the first time, it occurred to me to wonder who had pushed the broadside under Nat’s door.
I wasn’t going to ask; I had my pride. But I wasn’t going to retreat, either—even though they had arranged themselves so that my way forward was blocked.
I brandished my iron bracelet to prove my good faith. “I need to speak with the Queen. Do you know where she is?”
Silence. But then, from behind me, someone spoke up, shyly but with courtesy. It was Clemence. “The Queen? Why she’s in the little room around the back, where we’re keeping the supplies.”
“Thank you.” I could reach that room without going through the Great Hall—or past the line of ladies-in-waiting.
As I walked away, I heard the others chide Clemence for speaking to me. There was clearly more to her than I’d realized, a certain kindness and independence of mind that the others lacked. Was that why Nat was drawn to her? Would he turn to her now?
I knew I should feel grateful to her for helping me, but what consumed me was pain.
Sybil was counting out blankets when I came in. For a moment I almost didn’t recognize her. No longer the perfect portrait of queenly elegance, she wore heavy boots and a gown that had been ruined by the rain. Her curls were disheveled, and her neck and arms and ears were bare, save for her iron ring.
Her eyes, however, were as warm as ever—and livelier than they had been in ages.
“Lucy!” She didn’t leave her work but beckoned me over. “Joan told me you were all right, but it’s good to see you with my own eyes.”
She hugged me, then frowned anxiously. “Oh dear. What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” she insisted. “Do you think I can’t tell?”
It was no use trying to hide the truth from Sybil. “I had an argument with Nat, that’s all.”
“Oh, Lucy! What about?”
“It—it doesn’t matter.” Quickly I broached the real purpose of my visit, telling her about Melisande and the scrying and what Penebrygg had said about them both.
“The wall between the worlds,” she said slowly when I was done. “That rings a bell somewhere—and the two snakes, too.”
“You recognize them?”
“Nothing so precise as that, I’m afraid. But I have this idea that Chantresses were involved in sealing some kind of wall, or widening it, or something like that. I don’t know what they did exactly, or even when, but Mama once said that the Chantresses did it to keep the Others at bay.”
“The Others? Is that what she called them?” I asked. “Not the Mothers?”
“I think she said the Others, but I’m not certain. She was talking to someone else, you see, and I just happened to overhear her. So I didn’t catch everything.”
“Did you hear her say anything else about this wall?”
“Not that I can recall,” Sybil said slowly. “Though I think . . . maybe . . . she said the sealing of the wall had something to do with Melusine.”
“With Melusine?” I was surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Well, that bit I’m really not certain about,” Sybil admitted. “And of course Mama never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”
I felt as if we were going around in circles. But then I thought to ask, “Who was your mother talking to?”
Sybil looked down, thinking hard. “Do you know, I think it was when that odd woman came to the house to heal me, the one with the sea-green eyes.”
I felt a leap of excitement. Could it have been Melisande? “Can you remember anything else?”
Sybil closed her eyes. “I think . . . I think it was the woman who was asking the questions. And she reminded my mother that if Chantress magic made something, then only Chantress magic could destroy it.” She sighed and opened her eyes. “And I’m afraid that really is all I remember. I wish it were more.”
“It’s a great deal,” I assured her, though I was sorry it wasn’t more too. If only Melisande hadn’t escaped! I could try describing her to Sybil, but there was no way she could identify the woman for certain without seeing her. And even then, could such a distant memory be trusted?
I looked at Sybil, who had gone back to her blankets. “The woman you saw, was she wearing a necklace like the one Melisande had today? With the two snakes?”
“If she was, I didn’t see it. She was all wrapped up.” She scribbled a note on a list, then paused. “But as I said, there’s something about those snakes that sounds familiar.” She shook her head. “How frustrating. I can’t quite place it.”
“Maybe it will come to you later. Will you find me if it does?”
“Of course—as soon as I can get away, that is. Or I’ll send Norrie. She’s planning to stay in the Great Hall with me tonight.” Sybil stretched and set down her list. “What a rock that woman is, Lucy! Honestly, she’s had the strength of ten today.”
I remembered how confident Norrie had looked when I’d seen her, calm and in charge. Of late I’d been reluctant to lean on her, fearing she was too old and frail, but it seemed I’d underestimated her.
I’d clearly underestimated Sybil as well. Standing here in her plain clothes, busy about her work, she had a serenity and sureness I’d never seen in her before. And there was something more I saw.
“You look happy,” I said wonderingly.
Sybil looked abashed. “It sounds dreadful to say it, when people are suffering so much, but I am. I can’t tell you what a gift it is to be able to do something practical for once, something real. No one in the Great Hall cares about Court etiquette. They just want a bed and some food and a friendly word—and I can make that happen.” Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “In a way, it’s rather like my old life with Mama. I cajole supplies out of the steward; I sort out arguments; I calm the kitchen staff . . .”
It was good to see her so happy, but it was also disconcerting. “And the King? Does he know how much you’ve been doing?”
“Oh, Lucy, he’s so proud of me.” She gave me a glowing smile. “He’s sharing reports with me now. And we’ve talked—really talked—about what’s happening in the city and what we should do about it.”
“That’s good.” My voice sounded all wrong, but it was hard to know what to say.
“Oh, I know it won’t sound like much to you,” Sybil said. “You’re used to having Henry seek your advice. But for me, it’s new—and wonderful—to have him trust me like that.” She shook her head. “I’ve been trying so hard to be a proper queen; I didn’t want to humiliate him. But I’m starting to think I should have just been myself all along.”
A knock came at the door. Sybil gave me a quick hug. “I need to get that. But you’re welcome to stay, Lucy.”
“You’re kind to offer, but I should go.” If I stayed, she might want to talk about Nat again, and I couldn’t bear that.
The person at the door turned out to be Clemence, who blushed when she saw me. Sybil didn’t seem to notice. Warmly she drew Clemence in, and they started to discuss the ins and outs of supplies, and even to joke with each other about some of the trials of the day.
“Good night,” I said, and slipped out.
In the darkness, I let the cool rain fall onto my burning face.
What have I done?
I had been so certain I was doing the right thing in pushing Nat away. I’d taken Sybil’s unhappiness as a warning. And now Sybil’s situation was changing . . .
Was it too late to go back to Nat? To tell him that maybe I was wrong? To say that I loved him and wanted to find a way forward?
My feet made the decision for me. I found myself turning back to his rooms, first walking, then running, then racing. There was a light
in his window. I bounded up the stairs and knocked on the heavy door.
No one opened it.
I knocked again, harder. “It’s Lucy,” I called through the keyhole.
Nat didn’t answer.
Maybe he isn’t there, I told myself. Maybe he’s asleep.
But there was another, more awful possibility that I couldn’t ignore. Maybe he knows I’m here but he’s done with me.
I knocked twice more, so loudly that I was half-afraid I’d wake Penebrygg in the inner room, but no one came.
I forced myself to turn away. No matter how desperate I felt, I couldn’t stand there all night, not when I was needed elsewhere.
The rain lashed at me as I crossed the dark courtyard again. I wasn’t giving up, I told myself. I might have to wait until later, but I was still determined to talk to Nat, to ask for one more chance to set things right between us. Deep inside, however, I couldn’t help fearing that I’d already been given that chance—and I’d thrown it away.
Weary and aching with sadness, I set off toward the guardrooms to see Captain Knollys, hoping he might have some new clue about Melisande’s whereabouts. Much to his frustration and mine, however, Knollys had nothing to report.
“There’s no sign of Melisande anywhere,” he said. “Or of that servant of hers. And no one’s approached those rooms since we went there this morning. Whoever—or whatever—those women are, they’ve gone to ground.”
It wasn’t good news, but I knew I needed to bring it to the King anyway. It had been many hours since I’d last seen him, and he would be wondering what progress I’d made.
It took me another half hour to find where the new State Rooms were located, in temporary quarters by the tiltyard. When I arrived there, everything was in confusion. The most valuable trappings had been carried across from the old State Rooms, but the Brussels tapestries were still rolled tight, the King’s gilded throne sat forgotten in a corner, and paintings by Holbein, Raphael, and Gentileschi were stacked against the walls. Crates of documents were piled up everywhere, and mobs of clerks and secretaries were scrabbling to put them in order.
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