Marlis had a gifted tongue; listening to her, Thea was almost swept into this impromptu obituary.
Whether or not Sebastian had actually died, Thea realized he had given Marlis an excellent chance to take the leadership role. Her calm, firm speech seemed to promise that the mission would go on uninterrupted, that she had control of the situation.
“Please, tonight we need to hold ourselves together and carry on as before,” Marlis said. “The guests will be arriving in mere hours—we have to show them that we remain as strong as we ever were.”
Marlis ran the scenario over and over in her mind.
The river would have been freezing cold. Can they even swim? I can’t think when Freddy would have learned. How fast is that current? They’d have to get out quickly and find shelter. Would Sebastian’s leg have come off in the fall? Maybe he couldn’t even walk. It would have been dark, they’d have no place to go.
She saw them thrashing and drowning in the cold, their bodies carried up the river, battered by rocks, and ultimately frozen under the ice, to be found in the spring thaw.
Her gut still rebelled against the news. Sebastian and Freddy wouldn’t have died in such a way. Of course, it had given her the perfect opportunity to have what she’d always wanted: to step into Sebastian’s shoes and use her newly built reputation to lead.
She retreated into Sebastian’s office, ostensibly to plan her speech for the gathering, but the room seemed so alive with his presence. She looked over his papers, his slanted and nearly indecipherable handwriting, his empty coffee cups. These signs of recent life mocked the terrible news and sent her running over the possibilities once more.
And I’ll have to write Freddy’s parents and tell them.
That thought almost broke her. She did know how much Freddy missed them, and she used to think so poorly of his parents. Papa always said such things about rustics, so she imagined them as simple and backward. She had made comments that hurt Freddy’s feelings. She had snapped at Thea earlier when she really wanted to snap at herself. How could I have been so cruel? I should have been above all that. Why didn’t I know?
Her human side had been stronger, all along. Her attempts to grasp at her power now had left her feeling so hollow.
Because I’m still acting like a human. Like Papa. Selfish. Power-hungry. Freddy is the one person who has been constant, and now he’s gone.
Tonight, she vowed to change. She would not use the wyrdsong to gain power. She would not begrudge Sebastian the trust he had earned among his men. But she did have to do something to keep the ground they had gained, and unfortunately she could only think of one thing.
Someone pounded on the door. “It’s Thea.”
Marlis shoved the chair back, dabbed any trace of tears from her eyes, and opened the door.
“Can we talk? I mean—do you have a plan?” Thea asked. “You really want to let this party go on? Brunner will be here, and the men just came back with the weapons from Lingfeldt. He’s going to want them to go into the government arsenals.”
“I know. But consider if we don’t have the party: Morale will be low, and word will get out that we’ve lost our leader. Clearly, I would need to do something. To gather everyone together and, well…I think I have to tell everyone he is the prince,” Marlis said.
“But what if he isn’t dead?”
“Then we will give him a hero’s welcome.”
“He dreads nothing more than being the prince.”
“This moment is too pivotal,” Marlis said. “We need an immediate surge in Sebastian’s popularity to have any hope of keeping Brunner from seizing the weapons. He’ll say they belong to the government by rights, but Sebastian is the one who risked his life to get them. If we don’t keep support on our side, then even if Sebastian comes back, the thing he fought for will be gone.”
“I know.”
“It’s our secret for now,” Marlis added. “I don’t want the gossip to spread beforehand. I know this is an unfortunate situation, but this will define our group and us, and keep us in the running for taking control of Irminau.”
Thea nodded, standing straight. “I’ll get dressed.”
Marlis twisted her hands. “Thea? I’ve never dressed for a party without the help of a maid.”
“Do you want me to help you?”
“If you could. I really don’t know the first thing about all that stuff.”
“Of course.”
Thea despaired a bit at Marlis’s party dress, which she had purchased with the intent of looking both intimidating and financially conservative in these lean times. It was black and unadorned.
“But the skirt rustles,” Marlis pointed out. The skirt was cut at the sides, with poufs of net. “That’s fancy, for me. Although it was the only one they had. The new style, I suppose.”
“You should enjoy it,” Thea said. “The next new style won’t waste fabric like this.”
Thea lamented that Marlis hadn’t given her enough time to curl her hair, but as she did her makeup, she didn’t nag her about her skin like Marlis’s maid, who felt women should never go outside, and that Marlis had committed a grave sin by acquiring a few freckles and sometimes even a full-blown tan in the summer.
“You have lovely collarbones. I wish we had some diamonds you could wear. What is this?” Thea asked, pointing to the gold chain around Marlis’s neck.
Marlis pulled out the gold heart. “My mother gave it to me, before she died.”
“What is it?”
“A human heart.”
“Oh! Of course it is.” Thea looked sheepish. “I guess I didn’t pay enough attention when we studied anatomy. You should wear it on the outside.”
“It’s a strange thing to have.”
“But it’s from your mother. She died a while ago, didn’t she?”
“Yes, half my life ago. We were very much alike.” Marlis suddenly yanked at the chain. “But she wasn’t really my mother. Everything was a lie.”
Thea lowered her hand. “I’m sure not everything.” Her brows furrowed with concern. “I don’t know you well enough to say much, but you must have loved your mother if you’ve worn it all this time. That’s worth holding on to. Life is so short….”
Marlis dropped her hand, letting the heart hang free. Nothing felt concrete enough to hold on to at this moment. “I wonder if I’m doing the right thing today. I always wanted to go into politics, but not by taking advantage of Sebastian.”
“If he is dead, what are we fighting for?” Thea asked. “I suppose that’s the question. He wanted to bring Irminau and Urobrun together as a unified republic. But besides that, are our goals much different from those of the rest of the UWP?”
“The UWP was still quite willing to use Freddy’s abilities,” Marlis said. “If magic is lost, the point is moot, but there are other things to consider. If Chancellor Brunner and King Otto go to war and one nation conquers the other, I think the winners will abuse the losers, who will be bitter for generations. Sebastian was right: We need to try to unify our countries as peacefully as possible, and whoever rules the new nation has to value what each side has to offer.”
“Then that’s what tonight is all about. And every night after that,” Thea said. “That goal. I’m not sure Sebastian was that good with goals.”
“No?” Marlis said, although she knew just what Thea meant.
“He was so afraid of being the prince. But you’re not afraid, are you?”
“Only a little.” Marlis half-smiled.
She had invited an eclectic group, from soldiers of the old republic who had been low enough on the rung to escape scrutiny, to people she had met through her recent public appearances, and, of course, revolutionary leaders, both within the radical UWP and from other fringe groups like Sebastian’s. Some of them were Sebastian’s friends, not hers, and she had to struggle through awkward greetings without his introduction. They had no idea of the news when they arrived, and so they came in their best winter finery, shedding
fur coats to show off beads and sequins, glittery jewelry, and feather headdresses.
Brunner came alone, no lady on his arm, and gave Marlis’s hand such a vigorous shake that she almost winced. “I finally meet the famous Norn. Who would’ve guessed you had such a secret?” With his small but merry eyes and a bushy beard, he looked uncomfortable in a suit, like he’d rather have boots and rolled-up sleeves. He certainly looked the part of the working man’s hero even more than Sebastian did, and he had a broad Urobrunian accent.
Volland stayed beside her in lieu of Sebastian, but he kept looking at her suspiciously. He knew her well enough, unfortunately, to sense the anticipation mixed with the sadness.
“Are you up to something?” he whispered in a quiet moment.
“I’m always up to something.”
He let her leave it at that, but didn’t seem convinced.
Thea seemed to be working the room well. She was wearing a dark blue dress with a black beaded headband over her auburn waves, and shoes with silver accents. Whatever grief she felt over Sebastian and Freddy didn’t show. Marlis thought she must be holding out hope they would return.
The band played music that was not quite funereal, but gentle to frayed emotions. Wine flowed freely; Marlis had instructed the servers to open ten more bottles than originally planned, but she didn’t touch a drop of the stuff herself.
Brunner, she noticed, was talking to Lucas, Sebastian’s head adviser. Now Brunner looked to be asking the tough questions; she sidled over when she saw him frowning.
“I’m not in a position to discuss that,” Lucas was saying.
“What is this, now?” Marlis asked.
“I’d like to talk to Mr. Hirsch’s second in command, if I may.”
“That would be me,” Marlis said. Some of the men might argue, but she could handle that later.
“But, ah, who did he leave in charge of military operations?”
“Me,” she insisted. “What is the problem?”
“I hear you’ve recovered a number of weapons from Lingfeldt, and I wondered when you planned to tell me about it.”
“Chancellor Brunner, of course we planned to tell you, only we thought the chances of success were so slim. When Sebastian found out he had to rush out the door that very moment to have any chance of reaching the base in time, and as you’ve heard, the losses were heavy. We’ve had no time to see what we’ve recovered or sort it out.”
Brunner’s friendliness slipped away now. “The weaponry is the property of the government. It should be delivered directly to our base without you needing to ‘sort it out’ first.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I appreciate that,” Brunner said, but his eyes followed her even as she moved away. She wondered if he would send someone to confiscate the weapons. Her plan felt thin, without Sebastian here. His memory won’t be enough. They won’t follow me. They won’t follow anyone but him.
She forced her fears back. Thea had asked what she was fighting for. She had to focus on that. A unified nation, with a vote and a voice for every citizen—like the nation she had imagined her father governed, when she was younger and naive.
“Everyone!” She lifted a hand, stilling conversation, and stepped up onto the dais. “I’d like to thank you all for coming, despite these sad circumstances. I know I take comfort, on this sad day, in your support.”
The room collectively murmured condolence. A few ladies dabbed their eyes with handkerchiefs, while Sebastian’s men lowered their heads.
“Sebastian had originally planned to tell you all something tonight, until he was called away for this swift and brutal attack from Irminau. You will understand how personal this was to him. Sebastian, you see, has been living under a painful secret. He wants nothing more than to be one of the people, and he considered Urobrun his adopted home.”
Now, her audience was almost dead silent. A few glasses or plates clinked as people set their refreshments aside.
“Sebastian’s real name is Rupert, and our enemy, the king of Irminau, is his father. Or, must I say…was.” She wasn’t sure many people even heard that over the sudden gasping and exclamations spread among her audience, but she felt suddenly adrift, remembering that this wasn’t some event she had staged, but that Sebastian really was most likely gone.
“That’s impossible!” some of Sebastian’s own men were shouting. “His father was only a baron!”
“That was only a story,” Marlis said, “to explain his well-bred accent. He gave himself the most humble origins he could.”
“A story? I’ll say,” said Yann, Brunner’s adviser. “Lost princes and magical trees. Stories would seem to be your forte, Miss Horn.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Lucas said. “He didn’t tell many people, even among his own men. If we figured it out, we kept the secret, because he really didn’t act like a prince. He was one of us. We respected that.”
“His death was always suspicious,” one of the women said.
Heads nodded.
“Now that I think about it…”
“He does look…”
“Older, of course…”
“Sebastian’s heart was here in Urobrun. I tell you his secret now,” Marlis said, “because I intend to do everything in my power to keep his dreams from dying with him. He devoted his life to this revolution.”
She let the crowd’s chatter take over. In many ways, Sebastian’s stubborn insistence on not revealing his identity was now an advantage. If he had told them himself, Yann might not have been the only one questioning the story. They might have wondered, Why now? But tonight, it was a heroic tale people wanted to believe.
Brunner was glancing around with a furrowed brow. He hadn’t guessed either. As she moved back into the crowd, fielding questions, she saw him arguing with one of her men.
“What’s wrong, Chancellor?” she asked, trying to sound pleasant—but with an edge.
“Marlis Horn, those weapons are still property of the Urobrun Army.”
“And I have always had an excellent relationship with the Urobrun Army. Besides, if not for Sebastian’s sacrifice, Irminau would hold those weapons.”
He tugged his beard. She could see he was trying to think of a good response, but craftiness wasn’t Brunner’s forte. In some ways, she felt sorry for him, because he was just the tip of the UWP at large, elected for being a hardworking fellow that everyone could agree on. “I see what you’re trying to do here,” he said.
“I suppose you do.”
“It will buy you a few more weeks of attention.”
As if he thought she was just a spoiled rich girl who wanted attention. “Not much, is it? So, I suppose you don’t mind, then.” She smiled, and let out her breath.
Thea thought, at first, that the wailing and chanting voices were in her dreams. But she woke to see Freddy’s kitten—my kitten, now, I suppose—with her tail puffed with alarm at something before she ran under the bed again.
She parted the curtains. Outside, a crowd had gathered—girls with their hats bent together in mutual support, rustic men with tear-streaked faces. The front of the house was piled with flowers.
Her stomach twisted oddly. Were they crying for Sebastian?
An old Irminauer woman with a shawl over her head was clutching a photograph of young Prince Rupert to her chest, a burning candle in her other hand. Yes, they were holding vigil for Prince Rupert. But haven’t they already thought he was dead for three years?
Thea dressed quickly and ran downstairs.
“You underestimate the power of royalty,” Marlis said. “I suppose when the same family rules the country for centuries and centuries, people get funny about it.”
Thea could hardly eat breakfast. It still didn’t feel like Sebastian was really dead, and now all these strangers had appeared to cry over this person he used to be years ago. Marlis went out to shake their hands and try to comfort them. Thea couldn’t handle the thought that they were crying for her Sebastian.
All those people. All those people.
How did I ever get swept up in such a thing?
But she wasn’t. He was gone. At least he and Freddy had died together.
She left early for work, battling her way past the crowd, so she could spend some time with her mother.
“Why don’t you just come home?” her mother said.
“I can’t. I need work, and Marlis will keep me employed,” Thea said, but she realized the revolution had gotten under her bones. She hated the thought of not hearing the latest news as it reached headquarters. “Anyway, I can’t just walk away from what all my friends fought for. And Nan will come back.”
She didn’t tell Mother she had cared for Sebastian—maybe later—but Mother was very sad to hear about Freddy. Thea felt better just having a shoulder to cry on.
At work, Sebastian’s death was all anyone could talk about. Miss Helm tried to send her home early because she looked so pale.
“Please, I don’t want to go home,” Thea said. “There are all these people outside acting like Sebastian was a saint and it’s—it’s going to be like sleeping inside a funeral. They didn’t even know him.”
“Why don’t you just work with Hedda, then? Keep busy, but you don’t have to talk to anyone unless you want to.”
When she returned in the wee hours, the crowd had thinned but a few loyal people lingered, hands clasped in prayer in the bitter cold. Some Irminauers were very serious about their mourning vigils.
She woke to a pounding on her door. “Thea!” Sebastian shouted.
For a moment she thought, This time, it really is a dream. But the world felt much too real as she rubbed her eyes. She flung open the door. He grabbed her to him before she could even get a good look at him. His clothes were still cold from the outside.
“Oh god,” she gasped. “It’s really you.”
“It’s me.”
He just looked at her for a long moment, and she looked at him. His face was pale and drawn. She touched his cold cheek, lightly. Her Sebastian.
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