“Stars, imagine drinking tea full of vinegar. Even if he can’t taste it, do you suppose he had an upset stomach later?” asks Csilla, fitting a neat little riding jacket over my gown.
“I’ve no idea,” I reply. “I didn’t follow him to the privy.”
“You were supposed to follow him all day,” says Pia.
“Well, I did follow him, but then I had some errands to run.” I look at her in the mirror, her goggles fixed on me. “What am I going to do, just sit in his room all day?”
“For your brother’s sake, I need something interesting to tell Casimir.”
I tuck my sleeping-serum darts into one pocket of my riding jacket, and the hermia packet and the poison Lady Laroche gave me into the other. I’m a regular walking poison factory here. I stare at my reflection in the long mirror, Pia’s glare over my shoulder.
“Perfect,” says Csilla, satisfied.
We go by carriage out of the city, westward, where the fine country houses are, and beyond them toward the king’s summer palace, though I reckon he won’t live to see it this summer.
My lovely dress proves too warm for the weather, and by the time we reach the royal stables, I am bathed in sweat and sick to death of the stilted conversation between Sir Victor, Lord Besnik, Dafne, and myself. Sir Victor and Lord Besnik go to talk to the stable manager, and Dafne pulls me aside, her tone suddenly quite different.
“What do you think of him?”
“My uncle?” I ask, because she is staring at Sir Victor’s back.
“The duke,” she says, with barely concealed impatience.
“Oh! Well, he seems…I’m sure he’ll be a fine king.”
“He’s very young,” she says. Funny, given she is surely a couple of years younger. “Do you think he’s intelligent?”
“We know he can read. And write. But he can’t think up his own rhymes.”
“He will do whatever Horthy tells him to do,” she says, with a hint of scorn, and I am taken aback by the casual way she says Horthy. “He doesn’t seem like the arrogant type. I’d guess he’s quite aware of how unsuited he is to take the seat of power so young, and with so little experience of the country he is to rule. But really, I meant what sort of husband do you think he will make?”
“Oh!” I look at her in surprise. “I can’t imagine.”
“I can. Come, Ella, let’s not pretend. I am supposed to marry him, and my understanding is that you are meant to help me win him. Sir Victor told my parents that you are very clever and read people well. What do you think? How am I to win him?”
I laugh in surprise and relief. “I think I am meant to help you only by being less beautiful and less interesting and making you seem all the more appealing in comparison,” I say bluntly. “I don’t think you need help.”
“I’m not sure,” she says, unembarrassed by my assessment. “I don’t think he is pious, so my piety will mean little to him, and I know that men like beauty but they look for more than that in their wives, particularly if their wife is to be queen of Frayne.”
“Does it matter to you that he isn’t pious?”
“No,” she says. “I can pray enough for both of us. I’m relieved to find him pleasant and handsome. I see no signs of temper. I expect he will be a good husband, and Horthy will see to it that he is a good king. Only I’m not sure I interest him much.”
I feel more relaxed now that we are being open about the purpose of our friendship.
“He’s interested in poetry, but he didn’t like the poet you mentioned at the opera. Too conventional, I’d wager,” I say. “He’ll like a girl who challenges him. Don’t be too docile or predictable. He adores his mother, and you told me she was a madcap in her youth.”
Dafne rolls her eyes. “She’s a terrifying old crow, isn’t she? Here they are bringing the horses out. I’m glad to have someone to discuss this with, Ella.”
She smiles at me, a real smile, and I smile back. She’s not so bad. Like me, she’s got a job to do, and she means to do it well.
Riding sidesaddle is the stupidest thing I have ever attempted. I don’t know why Fraynish women try to ride at all. It was one thing in Yongguo, when I could straddle the horse like a man, but I don’t like my odds of staying on this poor creature.
Dafne is dressed in cornflower blue, and she looks like a fairy on a powerful-flanked dappled mare. My own horse is a gentle roan, as I told Sir Victor I can barely ride.
The duke arrives soon after with an entourage of men I don’t recognize. His eyebrows go up when he sees me. I’ve not thought of an explanation for how I vanished from his room when Lord Skaal came in—indeed, there is none—and I hope it will be enough that the truth is, as far as he knows, impossible. He does not seem to have said anything to anybody, or Sir Victor would have heard of it.
Soon the duke and Dafne are riding ahead, Lord Besnik and some of the duke’s entourage cantering along after them. Sir Victor ambles next to me on a black-nostrilled stallion that towers over my own horse.
“This is going well,” he says, jerking his chin toward Dafne and the duke riding side by side.
“Easy job,” I say.
“Have you spoken to Lady Laroche?”
I give him a sharp look.
He flashes the disk at his wrist. “The purpose of this is only to keep me reporting on Agoston Horthy. And I do. I have no qualms about pitting Horthy and Casimir against each other, but I am frightened for my daughter. Mrs. Och is gone. If there is to be a revolution, and if it is true that Roparzh’s daughter would not execute witches, I would be glad to help. But in the meantime I need to keep Elisha safe.”
When I was a spy in Mrs. Och’s house, before I knew Sir Victor’s real identity, I found letters in his room from Agoston Horthy: Elisha seems content at court and, as always, we will keep her close to us while you are gone. Most of the letters made reference to Elisha, the threat only hinted at. Professor Baranyi told me later that Sir Victor’s daughter, Elisha, was a witch, and that Sir Victor served Horthy because it was the only way to protect her. I gather she is still a kind of hostage.
“Where is she, exactly?” I ask.
“She is still living at court under Horthy’s eye, with a governess and servants chosen by him—essentially her keepers. I wonder if Lady Laroche could help her.”
“I’ll ask,” I say. No point pretending I’m not in contact with Lady Laroche. “But what about the witches in Hostorak? Are they to be drowned?”
“Not immediately. I spent yesterday interrogating a group of them, and will continue this evening.”
I don’t want to think what his interrogations entail.
“They don’t know where Lady Laroche is,” I say. “Just to save you the trouble.”
He nods briefly, but I don’t know if he believes me. “You’re to follow Horthy tonight,” he says. “And the report will go straight to Pia. I will be busy.”
“Busy interrogating witches who have nothing to tell you?”
“I’m to investigate this princess of yours as well,” he says. “Horthy hopes she is a fraud.”
“What do you mean?”
“He hopes she is not really Roparzh’s daughter, but merely a pretender, a puppet of the Sidhar Coven.”
“She’s nobody’s puppet,” I say. “Sounds like you’ve got two missions that aren’t going anywhere.”
“It doesn’t matter to me what I find,” he says impatiently. “I do my job, and you should be doing yours. Casimir is not patient or easily fooled, any more than Agoston Horthy. Both of them require results.”
We are quiet for a moment, and then, because it’s been needling at me, I ask him: “Why didn’t you come with me—after you helped me on Nago Island? The mechanic had only just put the nuyi in you, so you weren’t really bound. You said it was too late, but it wasn’t. You could have escaped with
us.”
“And then what?” he asks. “Horthy had Elisha, and Casimir still has his claws in Horthy, if not as surely as he’d like. Even without the contract, there was no way for me to defy him. Mrs. Och couldn’t have protected me or my daughter.”
“So you just let him take over your mind?”
“I have been trapped into obedience for a long time. The lack of choice is something I am used to.”
“And is it worth it? All the things you do for him? Interrogating witches and so on?”
His face closes up. “My daughter is still alive, and you are asking too many questions. You should focus on your own job.”
Sir Victor pulls away from me on his horse and vaults a fence up ahead. I am certainly not going to try to do any such thing. I tug the reins, telling my horse, “Go around the bleeding fence, will you?” but she is confused and runs at it and then pulls back, sending me tumbling to the ground.
Pain shoots through my shoulder and arm. I lie there in the grass, stunned, trying to figure out if I’ve broken anything. I decide I haven’t and get slowly to my feet.
Sir Victor doesn’t notice I’ve fallen, but Duke Everard has swung around and is galloping toward me. He swings down to my side, looking absurdly dashing in his riding clothes, while my lovely dress is all stuck with mud and grass and wildflowers now.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. He offers me his arm, but I stagger to the fence and lean on that instead. My horse is nibbling at the wildflowers. The poor creature is surely glad to be rid of me for the moment.
The others have stopped, but the duke waves them on, shouting: “She’s all right! We’ll catch up!” Then he leans toward me and whispers: “Time for your confession! How in the name of the holies did you get out of my room yesterday?”
“I’m very stealthy,” I tell him.
He smells of grass and horse and fresh air. He is frowning at me, eyebrows lowered. Not frightened, but not credulous either.
“I’ve thought it through, and it’s impossible,” he says. “There was nowhere to go.”
“Depends on how quick you are,” I say. “I’ll bet you were surprised.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Gobsmacked, more like it.”
This is getting risky, and I’m distracted by how close he is standing, the cleft in his handsome chin, the curve of his lips, those bright eyes fixed on mine.
I pivot to an accusatory tone. “All would have been forgiven for you, heir to the throne, behaving as young men do, but did it occur to you that by dragging me into your room you might have destroyed my reputation completely?”
He looks a bit chastened. “I hadn’t. I wasn’t thinking. And I’m sorry.”
“If you’re going to go around womanizing, you shouldn’t be so careless with your would-be conquests. What can a girl do, once she’s ruined?”
“I’m not going around womanizing!” he cries. “I’m grateful you came today. I can tell you aren’t fond of riding.”
“I’m not, but my uncle insisted I come.”
“That’s because I insisted you come.” He grins.
“I don’t like being told what to do. I like to be asked,” I snap, although honestly about half of my annoyance comes from the effect his nearness has on me, my heart leaping every time he leans close. “Here they come. Dafne looks very fine on a horse, doesn’t she?”
He laughs and says, “Yes, she does. Listen, I’m sorry for…everything. There’s going to be a soirée at the palace tomorrow, in defiance of rats and hornets. Will you come? I’m asking you, not insisting.” His eyes twinkle. “I’ll bet you’re a better dancer than you are a rider.”
“Not much,” I say, exasperated. “I don’t know many dances. I mean, not the sort that are danced at royal soirées.”
“I’ll teach you. And you could tell me all about how stealthy you are.”
“I don’t think that would go over well.”
“I don’t care.”
The sky is bright and my heart is thumping, but not from the fall off the horse. He has such a wide and appealing mouth and such an impossible, slightly wicked and yet sweet way of looking at me from under his lashes that if there weren’t several riders approaching us I might find the idea of tumbling about in the grass with him almost irresistible, heir to the throne or no. I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face and a fine figure.
“Ask Dafne,” I hiss at him. “You’re going to be king. You’d better learn to follow a script!”
I stumble over to my horse and take the reins. She gives me a baleful, resigned look. Luca helps me back into the saddle and says, all soulful eyes and kissable lips, “I’ve never been any good at following a script. I just want to dance with you.”
And then Dafne is at my side on her own horse.
“Are you all right, my dear?” she asks.
“Fine, only a bit bruised and feeling clumsy,” I say. “You two ought to go on ahead. You’re much better riders than I am. I don’t want to hold you back.”
The duke gives me such a look as he leaps back onto his own horse that I find myself blushing, and then he and Dafne gallop off together. She is acting quite the daredevil on the horse now, which is surely the right thing to do. Lord Besnik asks me if I am all right with an expression of barely veiled contempt.
“Fine,” I say, and lead my horse around the fence, hot and irritated and embarrassed because I’m still thinking about Luca’s mouth, his large, warm hands. Oh hounds, stop it, Julia.
My horse and I try to put on a good-natured front for the rest of the outing, but we are very glad to say goodbye to each other by midafternoon. I return to Spira City to the news that five cases of Scourge have been reported in West Spira.
I am trembling with anger across from Lady Laroche, who insists on my waiting while she finishes a letter. I do not like sitting here while she is wielding her pen, and I watch her closely. She signs the letter with a flourish, blots it, tucks it into an envelope, then smiles at me.
“Yes?”
“The rats,” I say. “They were spreading Scourge.”
“Yes.”
“Scourge!” I shout at her. Her jaw muscles tense, but otherwise she doesn’t move. “Nearly a quarter of this city was killed by Scourge when I was a child. My brother was maimed and crippled by it; he nearly died!”
“Did you know that very few members of the upper classes died of Scourge the last time it savaged this country?” she asks mildly.
“It spread fastest where people were crammed together, sharing latrines and eating quarters,” I say. “The rich just shut themselves away for the duration.”
“No,” she says, her lips tightening. “No. They have an antidote.”
All the air goes out of me.
“It wasn’t enough for everyone. But those who could pay for it got it, and they did not die. They fared better than your brother.”
All I can do is repeat what she’s just told me, like an idiot: “An antidote. They had an antidote.”
“Word has already spread of the outbreak. Watch how it clears up. There will be talk of the antidote by tomorrow. We have doctors on our side who will share what they know to be true. Professor Baranyi is drafting a pamphlet, and we will post it around the city. There will not be any Scourge deaths.”
I stand there speechless, blood humming in my ears. Though really, why am I so shocked? Should it be such a shock that the elite of Frayne never cared if people like me lived or died?
“Are you busy tonight?” she asks, looking a little smug.
“I’m to follow Agoston Horthy,” I manage to say.
“Ah. I need to get a letter into Hostorak. Never mind. I have a few ideas.”
“Sir Victor is interrogating the witches they captured.”
“He won’t get much out of th
em,” she says, but she doesn’t look as cavalier as she sounds.
“Did you know that his daughter is a witch?”
“Elisha,” she spits. “He let Horthy put him on a leash to save her.”
“Sir Victor might help us…if you could help Elisha.”
“Few have done as much damage to us as Sir Victor Penn Ostoway,” she says. “I do not care what his reasons are. He had other choices, could have taken other chances, and he did not. He yoked himself to Horthy. I would not trust him even if he placed his daughter in my hands. I will make no deals with that man. I pity his daughter, but I have other things to do than save the child of my enemy.”
“But don’t you think he could be useful? He’s so close to Agoston Horthy…” and also bound to Casimir. I’m not sure I’m convinced, myself, that Sir Victor would be a good ally. He’s certainly high-risk.
“He has chosen his side.”
“If you need my help with Hostorak, I’m in,” I say.
A moment ago, I thought I was done with her, but the revelation about an antidote to Scourge has shaken me badly, changes everything, and I am longing to see the prison that swallowed my mother come down.
“I have another ally who will take care of it,” she says, her eyes crinkling upward as she smiles. “I hope your mission tonight is fruitful. Have you thought any more about the poison? I should like Horthy gone. I thought you might be glad to be the one to take care of it. For Ammi.”
My heart gives a heavy thud. She looks sincere, but I can’t help feeling she’s wielding my mother as a weapon.
“I need to get information for Casimir first. He has to think I’m bound to him or he won’t take the poison out of Dek.”
“Of course. But if vengeance isn’t motivation enough, you might think of the lives you would be saving by removing that butcher of witches from power. Including Sir Victor’s daughter, Elisha.” She opens her desk and takes out the besilik mirror, balancing it in her palm and looking at me almost coquettishly. “Since you’re here, shall we have another peek at Lidari?”
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