Rook and Shadow (Salarian Chronicles Book 1)

by A. G. Marshall

  Someone else entered the garden. The stranger stood and offered me his gloved hand. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. A young man in a red tunic, gold cape, and green mask stared at us. The sea breeze ruffled his brown hair. Moonlight shone on his white teeth when he smiled.

  “Sneaking beautiful women away from the party is my job, Will.”

  The dark clothed courtier pulled his hand away from mine.

  “You’re late, William.”

  “Apparently not late enough. I can come back later if you need more time.”

  “Your names are Will and William?” I asked in the raspiest voice I could manage.

  “Second cousins,” William said. “Our parents weren’t very creative. As the clear superior, I kept the full name.”

  He kissed my hand and swished his gold cape.

  “But we’ll be going now,” Will said, pulling William across the garden.

  They jumped over the low wall and climbed down. By the time I made it to the edge, they had disappeared.

  I stood looking over the wall for a moment before following voices to another part of the castle. I was nervous I wouldn’t be able to find the main garden, but I was too afraid to ask anyone for help. How long would they wait before sending soldiers after me?

  It would be the scandal of the century. On the night I was supposed to be proving my responsibility. I had to get back.

  I found the kitchens and wandered through room after room full of food in various stages of preparation. Finally, I entered the room where they were painting eggs. Heat from the main kitchen’s fires streamed through the door. The masquerade was just beyond that.

  My stomach rumbled. If I had to face the whole kingdom as heir after ruining my birthday opera, I shouldn’t do it on an empty stomach. I grabbed a Salara egg from a basket and cracked it against the table.

  “Stop!”

  I looked up. Everyone in the kitchen stared back at me. Their knives glinted in the firelight.

  “Stop, thief!”

  I ran for the nearest door. Someone beside me did the same. Lacquer grabbed my skirt and pulled me back. Someone else grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. Lacquer lost his grip, and I ran down the corridors, clinging to the hand that had saved me. Servants chased us waving knives, paintbrushes, and anything else they could find.

  I lost track of where we were, but the person in front of me kept running. People shouted behind us. We darted in and out of rooms before dashing into an open courtyard. No, a stable judging from the smell of it. William stood there, holding a horse harnessed to a cart full of hay. He had changed from courtier clothes to peasant clothes.

  “What now?” he said.

  “No time,” the person in front of me said. I turned and realized I was holding Will’s hand.

  He picked me up and set me on the cart.

  “Crawl in.”

  “What?”

  “Do it now!”

  He jumped up and crawled into the hay. I followed him. It was itchy. Beyond itchy. At least the mask kept it off most of my face. William rearranged the hay behind us, covering our feet. I heard him walk back to the horse. A crowd of people ran into the courtyard.

  “You, there! Did anyone come this way?”

  Silence. William must have shrugged or shook his head.

  The crowd moved on. I realized I was holding my breath and exhaled. Will’s hand bumped into my nose. I put my hand up to push him away, and he handed me a handkerchief. I took it and put it over my mouth. Breathing became easier, but my heart did not slow down. My hand, still holding the cracked egg, trembled.

  Chapter 8

  The wagon rattled as we left the stable. Horse hooves clicked against cobblestones, and I bounced against hay until I reached the bottom. I held as still as possible, watching the road pass through a gap between the boards.

  We slowed, and the wagon tilted as we descended a ramp. I slid forward, gasped, and inhaled a piece of hay. William whistled a tune to cover up my coughing.

  The wagon reached the end of the ramp, and I bumped against the wood with such force I was certain to be bruised. Me, bruised. What would Lady Alma say?

  “Easy, there. Quiet, girl,” William said, clucking to the horse.

  I gripped the gaps between wood to prepare for the next gate.

  “Quite a load there, William,” a voice said. The guard at the gate?

  “I thought they’d need extra hay with all the guests here, but no such luck,” William said. “There’s more honor than crops at our farm this year.”

  “And what an honor! I’d give my sword arm for that.”

  “Wouldn’t we all?” William said. “Although I guess I’d be giving my plow arm.”

  The soldier laughed. The gate creaked open. Light from the opening charm shone through the cracks in the boards. Splinters dug into my hands as I clung to the wood, but I didn't slide forward.

  We passed through two more gates without a problem. I smelled the sea mixed with the hay. It occurred to me we were leaving Castlemont about the time the cobblestones gave way to a dirt path.

  I was out of the palace! On my own! We traveled long enough for my heart to stop pounding before the wagon stopped. The hay rustled as Will climbed out. I tried to do the same, but my skirt had become one with the haystack. I found Will’s leg and pulled myself up. He reached down and grabbed my shoulder.

  “Nice to see you again,” William said. The moon reflected off his teeth like a marble dance floor.

  I felt to make sure my wig was still on and breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of hay now that it wasn’t smothering me. Behind me, Castlemont glowed brighter than the moon and stars.

  “Thank you,” I said to Will.

  He nodded. His eyes reflected the moonlight. For a moment he looked like a ghost. His dark hair fell over his eyes, giving the impression that the top of his head was missing as it blended in with the trees surrounding us.

  “Again, Will, sneaking away with beautiful maidens is my job.”

  William winked at me. Will sputtered.

  “I didn’t- I mean, I’m not sure how this happened.”

  “He saved me. From servants with knives,” I said.

  “Ah, the old servants with knives routine,” William said. “Well, you two have fun!”

  He jumped off the wagon seat.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got my own blond beauty to see.”

  He disappeared into the woods.

  Will and I stood in the hay. He still wore his mask. So did I. Neither of us seemed inclined to take them off.

  I had encountered awkward situations before. Diplomats who forgot the little Salarian they knew when they saw my beauty and babbled on and on in their native languages. Walking in Lady Alma’s more outrageous gowns. Sir Inkling stroking my eyelashes.

  This was the worst.

  He would recognize me at any moment. He had seen me in the opera and eaten eggs with my portrait on them. I breathed the night air, taking in the scents from the ocean and forest.

  “I should go back,” I said.

  The party lights flickered above us. Music and laughter echoed through the forest when the wind blew our way. I should be addressing that crowd, and instead I was in a wagon with a stranger, covered in hay.

  I had managed to sneak away on my own, but what now? The guards would never look for me here.

  “You can’t go back now.”

  “What else can I do?”

  I jumped off the wagon and gasped as my ankle popped and gave out. The eggshell dug into my palm as I caught myself. I stared as drops of blood formed against my pale skin.

  Will helped me up and lifted me to the front of the wagon so I could sit. He jumped up and sat beside me. My ankle tingled as the charm relieved the pain.

  “I’m going to Salt Spring Village. You can ride with me and hide there. The soldiers will be looking for you. Stealing this is a crime against the Princess.”

  He held up the crushed egg and
tossed it on the ground. I remembered I was still hungry and sighed.

  “I was supposed to do something tonight.”

  “It will have to wait.”

  I glanced up at the palace lights. Were they panicking yet? Had they closed the gates and canceled the party? Mother would probably faint. Lady Alma would rant in Castanian. Father would get even quieter and gather his advisers around him.

  Sir Gilbert-

  To him, it would be just another adventure.

  For me, it could be my first.

  I was free! I was actually outside the palace. Away from everything I had ever known.

  “Alright. Let’s go to Salt Spring, then.”

  I shivered.

  Will pulled off his dark cloak and wrapped it around me. He swished the reins, and the wagon moved through the forest.

  “Here.”

  He reached into his sleeve and handed me a Salara egg. I tapped it against the wagon seat and peeled it. The artist had not quite gotten my eyes right.

  “I thought stealing these was a crime against the Princess?”

  “You weren’t the only one who ran when they yelled ‘thief.’”

  I chewed the egg as we traveled in silence. Was this the same road I had traveled with Sir Gilbert? I couldn't tell in the dark. I pulled hay out of my wig in between bites of egg. Neither of us removed our masks.

  Will handed me another egg when I finished the first. I ate a third and refused a fourth.

  “Why did you steal so many?”

  “Just a hobby.”

  “Stealing Salara eggs is your hobby?”

  He laughed. “Life gets boring sometimes.”

  I should definitely not take off my mask. Apparently it covered more of my face than I thought. It had fooled even Sir Inkling. Maybe I could actually do this!

  “What about you? You danced with the Princess in the opera. There was plenty of food at the masquerade. Why steal an egg?”

  Right, he thought I was a ballerina.

  “I was hungry.”

  “There’s safer food to take.”

  “I’ll remember that next time.”

  The stars flickered through the tree leaves.

  “I missed it,” I said, needing to hear the words out loud. “She’s coming of age tonight. They’ll announce her as the official heir.”

  “She’ll make a terrible queen.”

  “What?”

  People treated me as if I was incompetent, but no one had ever voiced the thought out loud. At least not in my presence.

  “A good ruler should know the people. Know their struggles. The King does a decent job. But Salaria can hardly support Salara as a Princess. Her rule will be a disaster.”

  “Princess Salara is a national treasure!”

  “She costs the nation plenty of treasure!”

  I stared at him.

  “You have some nerve!”

  “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “Apparently not. Your opinions seem quite contradictory. You steal eggs with her portrait then complain about her. Who are you, anyway? How did you get into the palace?”

  “You should be glad I did. You’d be in a dungeon right now if not for me.”

  Wrong. I would be in a garden dancing with Sir Gilbert.

  We drove in silence. The sky turned from black to blue, and the moon faded. We turned a corner and entered a village. I recognized it. In the early morning light, I saw the same fountain and town square surrounded by tiny houses and shops with no windows. I had passed them just yesterday. It all seemed like a long time ago.

  Will parked the cart in front of a trough and tied the horse’s bridle to a post. He helped me out of the seat.

  “Keep the cloak.”

  He disappeared into the crowd of peasants, slipping off his mask once his back was turned to me. He had straight hair almost as black as mine.

  I would have to remove my mask. There was no way around it. If I kept quiet, maybe no one would recognize me. I untied the strings and crumpled the mask into a ball. I straightened the blond wig and wrapped the cloak around me, covering as much of my dress as I could. The cloak had a hood. I pulled it over my head and walked to the fountain.

  First things first. I was thirsty.

  Chapter 9

  No one noticed me in the bustle of the town square as I walked towards the fountain. Several peasants wore cloaks similar to mine. I blended in! When I reached the fountain, my rippling reflection showed a face covered with dust. Bits of hay stuck out of the blond wig. I wiped at a speck, afraid it might be a freckle. It smeared on my face.

  I stood, waiting for someone to offer me a glass. No one did. Right, I was in disguise. I cupped my hand and scooped up a mouthful of water. The peasants drawing water with buckets ignored me. I drank a few more mouthfuls and sat on the side of the fountain. My ankle ached. Still not completely healed, then.

  My stomach made an odd growling noise. A few boiled eggs were not enough not replace dinner and breakfast. My skin tingled, and I felt light-headed as the excitement and lack of food caught up with me. I kicked my feet against the fountain. Where did peasants get food, anyway? No servants with silver trays bustled around, but everyone here would need breakfast. A movement in front of me drew my attention away from the courtyard.

  I turned and found myself face to face with a blond peasant wearing a decent imitation of Lady Alma’s butterfly chignon. She had secured the elaborate style with green ribbons instead of a salt charm, and her hair stuck out on either side of her head. She stared at the fountain wall beneath me.

  “Have you lost something?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Shoes,” she whispered.

  I glanced down. She wore plain brown boots, dusty from the dirt paths around the village.

  “You have shoes,” I said.

  She kept staring. I followed her gaze and realized she was staring at my feet. I examined the ballet slippers, puzzled. They were dusty from the hay and dirt and much plainer than my usual footwear. I glanced around the town square.

  All the peasants wore ankle length boots. Their skirts varied from knee length to almost floor length. Was that why they wore short skirts? To show off their boots?

  So I didn’t have the right shoes to be a fashionable peasant. She didn't have to be rude about it.

  I stood, ignoring a stab of pain in my ankle. The peasant lowered her head, following my feet.

  “Salara preserve us,” the girl muttered.

  I stepped backward. She followed.

  If I ran now, I would have a head start. I might be able to make it to the woods and hide. Was my ankle healed enough to walk back to Castlemont?

  Before I could move, the peasant grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the edge of the courtyard. We ducked between two buildings, and she pushed me through a door. I blinked in the sudden darkness.

  A male version of the peasant who had kidnapped me stood at a high table cutting something with large scissors. Twins, perhaps? He stared at us, looking as surprised as I felt. An oil lamp on the table cast light upwards onto his face, making him look like a phantom from a ghost story. A pot hung over red coals in a fireplace in the corner. The whole room smelled of leather.

  “Elsie?” he said.

  “Her shoes, Edsel! Look at her shoes!”

  Were all commoners this rude?

  The two identical peasants knelt to the ground and examined my feet. I could have kicked them in the face and run, but sketches on the walls caught my eye. Detailed drawings of every outfit I had worn for the past two months covered every flat surface in the room. My birthday portrait gown. My past two opera costumes, including the shepherdess gown I had worn to the picnic. My red breakfast gown. Replicas of my footwear rested on shelves around the room. I shuddered.

  Edsel tore himself away from my feet and offered me a chair. As soon as I sat, Elsie pulled off my slippers and tossed them to Edsel.

  “You shouldn’t wear such things out in the dirt,” she
scolded, offering me a glass of water.

  “You shouldn’t wear them out at all!” Edsel said. He pulled a paintbrush from his table and flicked dust off the leather.

  “Dangerous,” Elsie agreed.

  My face grew redder and redder. The coals produced surprising amount of heat in the tiny room. I pulled off my cloak.

  Edsel dropped the paintbrush. Elsie gasped.

  “Salara preserve us,” they said together.

  They stared at me. I stared at them.

  “Who are you?” Elsie said.

  I wanted to ask them the same question.

  “That dress is from Princess Salara’s birthday opera,” Edsel said.

  I shifted my weight to my feet, ready to run for the door if they attacked. How far could I make it barefoot? Of all the stupid things to do! Why had I removed my cloak?

  “So you were in the opera, then!” Elsie squealed. “Did you see Princess Salara’s dance? Oh, you must have! Tell me all about it!”

  “It was marvelous,” I said without enthusiasm.

  At least two people did not know I had ruined my own birthday opera.

  Elsie clapped her hands together.

  “Oh, I knew it would be. Queen Ingrid writes the best operas! And to cast Princess Salara as the fairy snow! Her skin glistens like enchanted snow. That’s what all the poets say!”

  “What was her costume like?” Edsel asked. “We haven’t heard yet. They revised the opera so many times. This is the latest design we have, but she wore this to a picnic instead.”

  He gestured to the drawing of the shepherdess costume.

  If I kept them distracted, maybe I could escape before they recognized me.

  “She wore white silk. And Lady Alma enchanted diamonds to float around her like a snowflake.”

  They both clasped their hands to their chests.

  “Do you think you could draw it for us?” Elsie asked. “I have some white muslin. I could make a replica to wear to-”

  A beam of sunlight blinded us as someone opened the door. Elsie recovered first.

  “William! I was just planning what to wear for, well, never mind that.”