My face is flushing bright red. My heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my throat. “I have heard of it,” I choke out. “I’ve never been there, though.”
“Well,” he says smoothly. “If you do, be sure to get some truffles. They are legendary.” He takes another bite of steak and chews, very slowly this time. He’s looking right at me.
He knows. Oh god, he knows. My heart pounds and my palms sweat. So many people I love are in danger, for keeping me safe all this time. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
I can hardly finish my mouthful of meat without choking. My mouth is bone dry and I need many sips of wine to help the food down. I must not show him how terrified I’m feeling. I must not show him how right he really is.
The servers return to take our plates. I’ve only managed to eat half my steak.
Another course appears, a salad topped with berries and flowers. I find this no easier to force down.
The King finishes his entire salad before he speaks again. He leans back in his chair and folds his hands, resting them on his round stomach. “But you are here and we have a choice to make.”
“We do?” I pause before putting the next forkful of salad into my mouth.
“We do. It appears you have two options.”
“And those are?”
“Firstly, allow me to fill you in a little. I’ve consulted with my advisors, and they have told me there’s a seldom-used provision, that an heir may give up their right to the throne. He or she must make their case before a tribunal if they wish to do so. However, it is ultimately the tribunal’s decision as to whether to grant the decree of autonomy. And, of course, I must ratify the decision. Nevertheless, this is something you may want to consider.”
I finish chewing before I ask him my next question. “And my other option?”
“Execution, I’m afraid.”
The servants return just then, replacing our salads with dessert, and pouring us cups of steaming black coffee from a jug.
“You have a choice too, you know,” I say, once we are alone again.
“I do? Pray tell what that is.”
“You could just let me go, back to where I came from. Let me live a quiet life. In peace.”
He sips his coffee, as if considering this. “You know I can’t do that. You’d always be a threat to my rule. To my son’s rule when I’m gone. It’s just not possible.”
“Sure it is. You can pretend like I never existed. Just like before.”
“But I know you exist now. I’m sorry, Raven, but I have no choice in this matter.”
“You do.”
“I do not. You are the one who needs to choose what must be done.”
Our eyes lock, but only for a moment. I look down at my dessert, a rich chocolate cake. This could be my last delicious food, ever. I take tiny bites, eating it very, very slowly.
“But don’t feel rushed,” he continues. “I’ll give you time to think it over.”
“How generous of you.”
“You are quite welcome.”
A few bites of cake later, I finally ask the question that’s been burning inside all through dinner. “What about my friend? Tui?”
He sighs, puts his fork down and rests his chin on his hands again. “I’m afraid Tui will face a tribunal as well. He will have to answer for the treasonous actions he has taken. But I don’t think he knew the extent of what he’d agreed to, so they may be easy on him. Then again, I cannot say. Treason is not taken lightly in my kingdom.”
I fully understand what he means by this.
“And Leif?” I ask, before I can stop myself. Why should I care what’s happened to him?
“You needn’t worry about your friend Leif. He is to be commended for his service. We asked him to bring you to us. And he did just that.”
I remember Leif’s last words to me: that they’d threatened to arrest his father. It makes complete sense now. The King blackmailed him.
“But you tricked him,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “He would never have done that by choice.” I can’t believe I’m actually defending him—the boy who pretended to be my friend. Pretended to actually care about me. Who I cared about, once. The boy who led me right to my probable death, where he promised he never would. I could never trust him again. “I don’t know what his father did, but you should arrest him anyway. Leif, his father—none of his family should be trusted,” I say. And then my heart sinks. I really shouldn’t have said that.
The King listens, one gray eyebrow raised. I can tell he’s not taking anything I say seriously. This makes me even angrier at him.
“I’m not quite sure what you are talking about. But rest assured your friend and his father will be just fine.” He picks up his fork and finishes his cake in silence.
I’ve had enough. Of this dinner, the King, all of it. I put my hands in my lap and wait to be dismissed.
Someone opens the door to the hall. The King looks over and nods, and the hooded boy enters. The King stands and I follow his lead.
“You may go,” he says. “I look forward to hearing your decision.”
I push my chair out myself, and I’m just about to follow the boy out of the door when I turn to look at King Araroa one last time. “You’ve no need to wait. Set up the tribunal. I look forward to making my case.”
The King smiles back and nods, clearly pleased at my choice.
Even though my cell is just as dank and dreary as before, it doesn’t seem nearly as bad when I return. I see no reason why the tribunal wouldn’t agree to release my claim to the throne, and then I’ll be free again. Heading home to Baldachin.
There's something else too. A cot has been moved in, complete with crisp white sheets and a warm woolen blanket. The purple dress is gone. In its place hangs a fresh white nightgown. I don’t hesitate to strip off my dirty clothing, pull the nightgown over my head and climb onto the cot. It’s not fancy, but it feels like the most luxurious bed in the world after sleeping on icy stones all week.
Only a few more sleeps and I’ll be out of here.
Chapter 16
I wake to find breakfast waiting on a small table placed next to my cot. I wonder how I didn’t wake up when whoever it was came in. Very strange. I can only guess it was the hooded boy. He’s always surprising me, moving without a sound.
New clothes have appeared too, neatly folded at the end of my bed. They are nearly identical to my old ones, but when I lift them up and caress them I can tell they’re made of cloth finer than any I’ve felt before. I’m happy to put on the soft gray woolen pants, the cream tunic, the black vest. My boots have been cleaned and re-laced with new line; my leather jacket has been brushed, small tears mended, the two missing buttons replaced.
I dress and sit on my bed, picking at the scones and fruit. This can only mean that I’m to sit before the tribunal today. I can’t wait.
Only, hours pass and nothing happens. There’s not a single sound in the dungeon corridor. The silence is almost as creepy as some of the sounds that have come from down the hallway these past days.
The boy brings my dinner tray. Before he slides it under, I meet him at the bars. “Please, tell me, what’s happening?” I whisper.
He shakes his head and shoves the tray forward. Then he’s gone into the dark with a swish. He surely knows something, but doesn’t want to say.
I’m not really hungry, but I eat all the food anyway. I don’t understand why it’s taking so long to get the tribunal together. I want nothing more than to tell them to forget about me. I don’t want anything to do with this place. Once I’m free, I’ll never come back. That I know for sure. They have nothing to worry about.
I’ve just pulled off one of my boots to get ready for bed when the sound of footsteps echoes down the passageway. I quickly pull my boot back on and rush over to the bars. Seconds later a tall cloaked woman stops in front of me. She hesitates before pulling the blue velvet hood back from her face.
We stand looking at e
ach other, both mesmerized. I’m looking into the same blue eyes as my own. Her thick, long, black hair is loose around her shoulders. It’s just like mine, but streaked with silver.
I remember my manners and give her a small curtsy. “Hello, your Majesty Seraphine,” I croak, my head bowed.
“Please stand, Raven,” the Queen says. Her voice is silky, and kinder than any I’ve heard before. “Let me look at you again.” I do as she asks and look up into her face. She’s smiling at me warmly. Her eyes shine, drinking me in.
Suddenly her face falls. It’s clear she’s remembered where we are. “I’m so sorry we are meeting like this. If I had known … I never …” Her voice breaks and she’s unable to continue.
I know we don’t have long to talk. So I get right to the point and blurt out the question I’ve been dying to ask: “How did he find out?”
She doesn’t hesitate to answer. “The midwife confessed. On her death bed. But she didn’t know where you’d been sent, after your birth. Only one of my ladies knew.”
“Miss Lilith.”
“Yes. Is she well?”
“She is. The last time I saw her, anyway. Is there news from … our village?”
“No, none at all. But I’ve been trying to get word to her that she’s in danger, via your friend Catriona, who is making her way back to your home. They know—I don’t know how—but they do. Nobody involved is safe.”
“Yes, I know that, too.”
I watch Seraphine’s face as she considers what to say next. She opens her mouth to speak, then stops. Twice she does this, then she tilts her head and sighs.
“You don’t have to do this, Raven. You don’t need to let the King’s tribunal decide your fate. Give me your hand.”
Without hesitating, I push my fist through the bars, and she takes hold of it with both hands. Her touch is so tender and warm it sends a shiver down my spine. There’s something in her palm. Finally she lets go, curling my hand around the object—a small folded envelope, heavy for its size. I place it in my pocket and keep my hand in there, holding on to it. Holding on to the warmth of my birth mother’s hand.
“I want to,” I say with determination. “I don’t want the King to think I’m a threat. Because I’m not. I just want to go home.”
“I understand, I do,” she says kindly. “Just know that you have other options.”
“Do I?”
“That was always my wish for you. And it still is. But it’s your choice. I trust you’ll make the right one, for you.”
I start to say that I’ve already chosen, but I hold my tongue. I simply nod.
“I need to go,” she says, glancing around. “I’m on my way to dinner. They’ll be expecting me so I only have these few moments. There’s one other thing you need to know …” She hesitates again.
“Tell me!” I’m pressing my face against the bars now, gripping them with both hands. Our faces are mere inches from each other.
“Your friend Leif is still your friend. I’m so sorry … he wasn’t given a choice. We just wanted you to be safe.”
“I … I don’t understand. How could I be safer here than … out there?”
“Raven, the King’s Hunters would have brought you in alive, as they have done. The others looking for you—commoners—they would not have taken such care of you. If they had found you first …”
I try to wrap my mind around this. Anger wells up, that I wasn’t trusted to make my own decisions. That I was tricked. I’m not glad about this, not at all.
There is a sound from the end of the hallway and Seraphine quickly pulls the hood back over her head. “Be well, my dear Raven.”
The dark swallows her up, and she is gone.
Minutes pass before I’m able to peel my fingers from the bars. I’ve been gripping them so tightly I’m surprised they haven’t left dents. I go to my bed, quickly place the folded envelope under my pillow, and change into my nightgown.
I climb under the blanket and unfold the envelope carefully. A heavy object falls onto the white sheet. A key. I know immediately what it unlocks: the door to my prison cell.
I lift the blanket to let a bit of light in, and read the small letters printed on the paper. There are only five words. When they finally come into focus in the dim light, I see that it’s an address: 16 Milford Lane, West Market.
I know of only one person with an address in West Market. Leif’s father.
There’s a candle in a wall sconce outside my cell. I stretch my arm as far as it will go and touch the tip of the paper to it. The paper sparks. I set it on the stones in the middle of my cell. It burns brightly for a minute, then only smoke and ashes are left.
And though I have no use for it, I place the key deep inside my jacket pocket.
I remember something else I put in that pocket weeks ago: the WANTED FOR TREASON paper. I pull it out and carefully unfold it. The edges have started to fray and some of the ink has smeared from dampness. I reach it over to the candle too, but then I hesitate and look at it one more time. Seraphine’s face—my own—gazes back at me. But I can’t do it. I can’t destroy my only image of my true history. I refold the paper and tuck it back inside my jacket, next to the key.
I sleep deeply until the sound of the hooded boy sliding my breakfast underneath the bars of my cell wakes me. Instead of departing right away, he waits for me to eat. When I’m done he unlocks my cell door. He leads me down the hall, up the stairs, and out the front doors of the Palace.
I’m nearly blinded by the sunlight, weak and wintry as it is. More guards are waiting, surrounding me as we cross the crowded courtyard. It seems the entire population has arrived to watch. There is a lot of heckling; terrible things are shouted out. Wishes for my death and other unpleasantries. They are all male voices.
The female faces I see out of the corner of my eye are staring, still and silent. As I walk past, a little girl reaches up to touch the edge of my jacket. It startles me. Her mother grabs her arm back. The woman bows her head and makes a curtsy so small I’m certain only I have noticed. I snap my head forward again and continue my march to face the tribunal that will decide my fate.
It’s just before noon when I’m returned to my dark cell. The entire spectacle is a blur in my mind. The questions were pointless. Confirming who I was. Would I willingly make an oath to reject any claims to the throne? Would I swear not to contact any members of the royal family? Would I promise to leave the Bastion immediately?
It was easy. I answered each and every question in the affirmative. They seemed pleased and it didn’t take long. I left certain that I’d be taking my oath of autonomy and on my way home, and soon.
I spend the afternoon lying on my cot, imagining my journey home to Baldachin. This time I’ll take the direct route. I hope the main pass is still crossable. It must be—winter is still a few weeks off. I remember hearing that some years it’s passable all months. Maybe this will be one of those years. Or I can hire a guide. They know how to get across at any time of year.
I wonder how far Catriona has gotten. I’m anxious for our families to receive the news that, while we didn’t accomplish what we set out to do, at least I’ll be allowed to live in peace. This will all be over.
But something occurs to me that makes my stomach lurch.
All this time I’ve been picturing Tui and me on the journey back—not Leif, of course. I’ll never speak to him again. But I remember what the King told me about Tui standing before the tribunal. While they’ll let me go, what about him? He’s been marked for treason. Very few people get away with that charge here. But since he’s underage, perhaps they’ll let him go too.
Or not.
I feel like I’m going to throw up. Without Tui, my freedom is meaningless. There’s no way I can leave him behind. And there’s only one way I can get both of us away from here—by using Seraphine’s key.
Tui and I could reach the port after all. Jump aboard a ship, and sail at last to Nuimana where we truly would be safe. Mission accom
plished.
But that would make going back to Baldachin out of the question. Worse, my escape would put everyone there in grave danger. My family. My friends. All the people I love. The King would not hesitate to take revenge.
My thoughts continue like this all afternoon. Around and around and around. No matter what I choose, somebody will be sacrificed. There’s no way I can win.
My mind finally rests on one thought before I fall asleep, exhausted. There’s only one person who can truly help me now.
Tui.
I wake to find my dinner waiting on the floor. I set it on the small table by my cot and stir the thick stew. It’s ice-cold.
My jacket is lying across the foot of my bed. I quickly check the pocket and feel both relieved and terrified to find the key waiting for me.
I sit back on my cot and nibble on the hard roll from the tray. When it’s been a long time without any kind of sound, I walk over to my cell door.
Double-checking there’s no one in the passageway, I slip the key into the lock. Sure enough, it turns easily and the door swings open. I step out and quickly walk in the opposite direction than before, away from the tower staircase. The hallway winds around in a sort of underground spiral. It smells even worse down here; the air is stale and musty and rotten. I cover my nose with my arm, breathing through my mouth. But I still gag.
I come across a series of cells, and peer into each one. The first is empty. In the second, a body is lying on the floor. I can’t tell if this person is alive, but their hair is blond so it can’t be Tui. The third is empty. In the fourth, I see him.
I grasp the bars of the cell and can’t speak at first. The sight of him slumped over on the wet stone floor, his clothes hanging in rags, brings a huge lump to my throat. I can see he’s lost many pounds. But the wild black hair is Tui’s.
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