“Is that—” Vernal begins to say. But I don’t let him finish.
I yank off my gloves and slam my palms against each man’s temples. I rip the memories from their minds, pain searing across my hands and behind my eyelids as never before. My vision splinters with pinpricks of lightning, and when I’ve removed all traces of this fight from all four men, I wrench my hands free. Leo tries to grab me as I stumble. Castian’s illusion flickers like candlelight. He shakes his head, blinking until he regains control and is the emissary once again.
“We have to go,” I say, standing on my own. My legs tremble. Shadows linger at the corners of my vision.
“Are you hurt?” Castian rasps.
“I’m fine.” I can’t think of the pain, the way my vision breaks like there’s a storm in the distance. Instead, I focus on a new plan—I dig through the taxmen’s pockets and withdraw a key. “Help me.”
We drag all four bodies to the alley beside the tavern and prop them against barrels covered in barnacles. I pour a bottle of aguadulce on their clothes. When they come to, they might think they’ve lost a day to drink or were robbed. With the taxmen’s knowledge freshly embedded in my mind, we hurry down the now familiar boardwalk. Through the stolen memories, I realize they have raided local businesses nearly three times in one month—every tavern and shop, every artisanal stand and church. Their victims’ faces swim in front of mine, begging and pleading for help. The taxmen’s carriage is stationed a short distance from the Lioness tavern. I unlock the door with the stolen key, open the hidden compartment along the bench, and grab a heavy leather bag that jingles with coin.
“Let’s go,” I say.
“Go where?” Leo asks, eyes scanning the empty area. It’s as though everyone has returned to their homes in fear of the collectors.
“To give this coin back to where it belongs.”
From here, it is a straight shot back to the Queen of Little Luzou’s mansion on the other end of the boardwalk. We climb up the steps flanked by columns, her guards letting us through out of sheer confusion at our sweaty, bloody state. I’m aware of Leo’s melodic voice requesting an audience with the Queen, but as soon as I reach out and rest my aching body against the pillar, an invisible wave of remembrance passes through me, like the familiarity of the mountain we crossed. I recoil from the pillar, confused.
For as long as I’ve known, my mind created the Gray as my curse for the thousands of memories I’ve stolen. But this feels different—it feels like there is memory embedded in the pillar. Is that possible without alman stone? Perhaps there’s a piece hidden within, or in the tiniest carving. I cautiously touch the stone once more, and Leo fades away. Gray figures spring to life as the world around me becomes a living memory. I hear voices arriving for a grand feast. I stumble onto the floor and sense the impression of every servant, every nobleman, every person who ever walked through here.
Ghostly figures walk in front of me, but when I reach for them, they vanish. He doesn’t vanish, though. Dez. Andrés. The lost prince of Puerto Leones.
He’s laughing, stumbling his way out of this very mansion. He tries to tuck his hair behind his ear, but there is only a scar, and the long black locks fall back over his face. Hands reach out for him, slender, delicate hands with dozens of gemmed rings adorning every knuckle. A woman grabs him by the open threads of his tunic, and her pink mouth curls into a devastating smile. “You’re not leaving the party yet, are you?”
Then a tall woman, broad shouldered with a sword strapped at her back, clamps her hand on his shoulder. “Of course he’s not leaving. The Queen wants to see him.”
When I wake, I am keenly aware of two things: Dez was here in the Queen of Little Luzou’s mansion, and I am not alone. My body is heavy, my sight so blurry that it’s like looking through warped glass. Someone is brushing hair out of my face. My vision fights for space with the last memory. One that shouldn’t be possible.
“Dez.” My voice cracks.
But when my eyes clear, he is gone. I see only a strange room, and a glimpse of Castian slipping out the door. I try to get up. Light spots dance in my line of sight. I push the soft sheets off my legs. Needles shoot up my calves with every step toward the open balcony overlooking the sea. The sun marks the late afternoon, but of what day? Someone changed my clothes—I’m wearing silk trousers and a white linen tunic. I try my voice again, but I sound as if I’ve gargled with sand.
Every inch of the space is decorated in rich greens and blues. The most interesting piece in the room is a map made of marble pieces bolted to the wall. There’s Empirio Luzou, its main continent and a thousand smaller islands rendered in various forms of jade. The Icelands to the north in the palest blue. But the continent that makes up Puerto Leones is divided into its five original territories. I let my fingers hover over the landmass that’s labeled THE KINGDOM OF MEMORIA. Nowhere in the whole of the country is this allowed to be depicted. Once again, I feel the pulse of magics emanating from within—more alman stone. But a faint pain at my temples warns me not to touch the alman stone or pull memories from it. This is why Lady Nuria wanted me to speak to the Queen.
I sit on the corner of a chaise to gather my thoughts. Dez was here. How long ago? This is the second time I’ve seen him through someone else’s eyes since that terrible day in Andalucía. What is he doing?
Stop following me. I’m already gone.
That is what he said to Castian—to us. If not for those words, I’d think Dez was on our trail, and not the other way around. I need to know what Dez wanted and what business he had with Señora Perliana.
I go in search of Castian and Leo, but when I open the door, they’re already there, and they’re joined by the Queen herself.
“We were beginning to worry,” she says, with a cursory glance my way.
She strides in and the capelet around her shoulders billows in the sea breeze. She sits on a high-backed brocaded chair and the three of us follow, squeezing into the long couch.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask.
“The afternoon,” Leo says, squeezing my shoulder. Relief crosses his features. There’s a bruise on his jaw from our fight. Castian, however, won’t look at me. The blood on his temple is matted in his hair and the barest fault in his illusion, a swath of gold, peeks through.
“You’ve made quite a mess on my boardwalk,” the Queen says, raising manicured eyebrows.
“We cannot apologize,” I say. “They were—”
“Doing what the king’s men do. Their jobs. They were collecting taxes.”
Could Nuria have been wrong about her? Could I have been wrong? I chance a look at Castian, but his illusion-green eyes are focused on the map I stared at earlier.
“Still,” the Queen says, tapping the armrests, “by the Great Tortuga, it was a beautiful thing to see them run to me for help from so-called common thieves.”
Leo lets go of a deep sigh, but Castian and I are paralyzed with tension.
“Now,” the Queen continues, “that coin is being redistributed throughout the citadela. Discreetly, of course. Because of what you’ve done, I am ready to listen to your request once again.”
My companions and I share a look of understanding. So much needs to be said. But we have to start with what we’re after.
“My name is Renata Convida,” I begin. “My friends and I are searching for a weapon that can help us stop King Fernando’s oncoming war without bloodshed. We cannot say more, as we don’t wish to endanger you. But you’ve seen the state of Puerto Leones—the king drains each provincia until there is nothing left to give. He will keep raising taxes for his war against the Moria rebels, and the fighting won’t stop there. If the king wins, if he captures more Moria, he will create weapons that could help him conquer the known world.”
“And the three of you are going to stop an army?” she asks skeptically.
I remember Leo’s doubt when Cas explained the Knife of Memory. It is a difficult thing to get people to believe in someth
ing they cannot see. Hope is as slippery as memory.
“Yes,” Leo says. “The only other option is watching the atrocities of Memoria repeat once more.”
“Even if what you are saying is true,” the Queen says, “the prince has been kidnapped. You will find that citizens across the kingdom may be willing to endure war for their prince, no matter who has to die.”
“Prince Castian isn’t being held prisoner,” I say.
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Because.” Cas leans back with the air of the prince I thought I knew, the man I know now. His illusion fades, revealing his true face. The pull of his magic brushes against my skin. When he looks at me, his smile breaks my heart. “I was rescued by this rebel before my life could be threatened.”
The Queen of Little Luzou’s mouth parts in surprise, and I see the moment she realizes everything. That I am the Robári the king and justice want. “You’re the one making all this trouble. The leaflets calling for your head don’t do your beauty justice, my dear girl.”
“They truly don’t,” Castian agrees softly.
I breathe through the spike of my heartbeat. “I suppose I owe a great deal to whoever had to describe me.”
Leo clears his throat and straightens as if he’s in a confessional box. “That would be my fault, Lady Ren. As Justice Méndez was not able to give his description, the king had the artist get instruction from myself and the servants who’d spent the most time with you.”
I try to imagine Leo, verbose as he is, sabotaging my wanted leaflets. I can’t help but laugh, and so does Cas.
The Queen shakes her head and rests a hand on her cheek. “And here I thought I’d seen it all. My, what have you gotten yourselves into.”
Leo shrugs. “Dissent, treason, a little bit of performing if the occasion calls for it.”
“As you can see, I am not a captive of the Moria Whispers,” says Castian. “I am on a mission to secure the future of my kingdom.”
The Queen of Little Luzou levels her piercing stare at him. Neither of them blinks. “And I suppose you will be different from your father?”
“In some ways, I am not,” Castian says. “I have done terrible things in my father’s name, and I will atone for all of it. I thought that if I could only outlast him, if I could wear the crown, then I could right the wrongs of my forefathers. The Moria are no more our enemies than are the kingdoms of Dauphinique and the Icelands or Empirio Luzou. Puerto Leones cannot thrive in the dark, and that is what this war will lead to. If that is treason, then I am guilty. But I am still the prince of this country. I am Moria. I will no longer separate those things from myself. I will put the kingdom before myself, and that is how we are different.”
The Queen of Little Luzou nods slowly. She walks across the room and pours herself a glass of aged aguadulce. She stares at the marble map and drinks the amber liquid slowly.
“Once, when I was a bit younger than you, I told my mother I wanted to learn how to sail,” she says, turning back to us. “And so she sent me out to sea with a ship’s captain I’d seen in the port. I learned how to swab a deck and man the sails. I learned how to slice lemons for the cook, and most important, I learned that when you’re set upon by pirates, you have to let go of some cargo. Otherwise it’ll weigh you down, and you’ll never be able to sail away.”
“Your mother had you running from pirates?” Leo asks, slightly terrified, if not wholly amazed.
“We were the pirates.” The Queen winks. “My parents remained in this kingdom because they loved their life here. They were like you, hoping to outlast the atrocities of the crown. That is why, like when I was at sea, I do everything I can for the people looking to me. Perhaps, Prince Castian, you are not who I expected you to be.”
She finishes her drink, pours four more glasses, and carries them over to us. “You will have your vessel.”
Leo squeezes my hand, and I grip his tight in return, if only to stop myself from screaming, We did it!
The Queen offers a conspiratorial grin. “Come sunrise, the same thieves who robbed the tax collectors will also have absconded with one of my cataval ships.”
Leo raises his glass, and the three of us offer a hearty salud. “To that band of wily seagulls!”
Castian grimaces at the taste of aguadulce and the suggestion. “We are not calling ourselves that.”
“A cataval ship?” I ask. “Those are luxury vessels, aren’t they? They’re not armed.”
“Then don’t get caught by the navy,” the Queen offers. “Or pirates. Besides, it’s small enough that a crew of three can sail it.”
Castian and the Queen go back and forth for a bit longer, going over our ship’s dock number, what to put on our forged documents, giving a hint of her extensive operation.
“I’ll have everything drawn up now. It’s been an honor doing business with you, Prince Castian.”
He takes her hand and brings it to his lips with a rare smile. “That honor is mine, Señora Montevang.”
“Wait,” I say, knowing that my words are going to sink the buoyant sensation we all seem to be feeling. I take a steadying breath. “You ordered a man brought to you. He was dark haired and missing an ear.”
She frowns, but nods. “Hard to forget. He and his group of newcomers showed up at my monthly feasts where all in Little Luzou are invited.”
The Whispers?
“When was this?”
“Last night.”
“Did they leave?” Castian asks.
The Queen cocks an eyebrow. “Do you think I keep track of every stranger in my citadela?”
I want to say yes but think better of it.
“We missed the feast?” Leo says, genuinely disappointed. Castian elbows him.
I meet Castian’s eyes. Last night we were not ten miles away. Did Esteban tell him about seeing me? I remember that wretched note again. How did Dez arrive here ahead of us unless he had access to horses and the main road? Where is the boy who taught me how to disarm an opponent? The boy who once looked me in the eye and said, I have never doubted you. I know we will win this war. I thought that he would always come back for me. I thought I knew him well enough to find him. Perhaps I don’t know him at all. What is he planning?
“Thank you,” I say. ”One more thing. Is there alman stone in your pillars outside the house?”
She shakes her head. “Only the finest Dauphinique marble.” “Oh,” I say, disappointed.
The Queen tilts her head to the side, peers at my hands. Reflexively, I ball them up against my chest. Something like empathy flashes across her dark eyes. “I’ll have supper brought up to you. Until then, I suggest you three remain together. While I trust everyone in my personal household, I’d rather your visit here have little fanfare. Apologies in advance, Your Highness.”
When she’s gone, Leo pours himself another drink and sinks into the bed. Castian follows me to the balcony overlooking the pier. Shoulder to shoulder, we turn to each other and, at the same time, say, “I’m sorry.”
“I know how much you wanted to reunite with your brother.”
Castian stares straight ahead at the setting sun. “I know how much you love him and wished to see him again.”
I did.
I do.
“Perhaps learning the truth of his birth caused an irreparable change to Dez,” I say. “When this is all over, I’m going to help him find his way.”
Cas offers me a smile and the anxious coil in my gut unwinds. “If he lets me, I’ll be there, too.”
“Do you feel that?” Leo asks.
We turn to find him rubbing his arms, as if he feels a chill we do not.
“What?” Cas asks, genuinely worried.
“You two are in agreement. All Six Hells must have frozen over.”
I pick up a small pillow and throw it at his head.
As promised, dinner arrives just after sunset.
“Only the finest for the prince of Puerto Leones, I give you a traditional Luzoua
n feast,” the Queen says, supervising the delivery of the meal herself. She does not stay but posts a guard—a muscular woman named Alden—at the door.
After days of stringy forest game and hard bread, we devour the decadent meal of pork belly, bananas wrapped in paper-thin dough and fried until brown and crispy, rice sweetened with coconut milk, and buttered peas piled in large bowls. The main course is an entire fried fish for each of us, the red scales crusted with pink sea salt, and we wash everything down with goblets of a tart white wine made from Luzouan cherries and grapes.
“Enjoy this last stretch of freedom while we can,” Leo says. “I’ve been on a luxury vessel only once with Lady Nuria, and by the end of the festivities, I wanted to take the life raft back to shore. Though we did try to fit thirty people on a ship meant for ten.”
Castian chokes on his wine. He sets his glass down between the plates. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.”
“That’s how I won over my husband,” he says, winking. “Enri said it was my gift. I feel that if I can’t always be happy, I can at least try to make others feel joy.”
“You’re not happy?” I ask.
Shadows flicker against his face, cutting the soft angles of his cheekbones into dramatic points. “I will always find a way, even when it feels hopeless. Enri and I eloped so young—seventeen, barely. We’d known each other as children, but we didn’t want to wait to start our life together. Two months later he was caught using his magics and killed. Part of me wished to leave all the hurt behind, but everything we’ve seen the last few days has made me realize how much I was hiding in the palace, even though I was in service of Lady Nuria. I find myself wondering how much of a difference I can make out here. What would my Enri say if he could see me?”
I place my hand on his cheek, brush my thumb over the faint bruise under his eye. “He’d say that you’re brave and the very best friend anyone could ask for.”
Castian nods. “He’d say that if there are more people like you, this kingdom will have a good future.”
Illusionary Page 12