by Morgan Rice
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With trembling hands, Sophia took the papers from the hidden space behind the panel. The square of a letter was sealed with blank wax and had her name written on it in a hurried script, the ink long since dry. She held it up to the light, looking for any clue to who had left it, and why.
The answer to the first part of it was obvious though. There were only a few people who knew about the existence of this compartment. If everyone knew, it would have been emptied long ago. That meant… that meant that this letter was from her parents, to her. She saw a matching one with Kate’s name and took it, tucking it away inside her dress unread. The one for herself, she took over to a table, staring at it as she tried to imagine all the things that might lie within.
“Why don’t you just open it?” Emeline said with a hint of impatience.
“Shh,” Cora hissed back. “Can’t you see how difficult this is for her? For someone who can see everyone’s thoughts, you don’t have a lot of empathy sometimes.”
Sophia ignored them both, concentrating on the feel of the vellum under her fingers, the unmarked wax sealing it. Emeline was right, of course; without opening it, she couldn’t know what lay within. Her fingers found the wax and broke it open with a snap, the brittle material giving way with the ease of age.
The paper was stiff, and so delicate that now Sophia didn’t dare bring it out into the light in case it crumbled to nothing under the strength of the sun’s rays. She shielded it with her body as she unfolded it carefully, the square turning into a larger sheet, filled with neat, bold writing. She didn’t even know if it was her father’s hand or her mother’s, but she started reading anyway.
My beautiful daughter,
If you are reading this, then you have returned to our family home, and we are not there. I can only imagine the things that you must have been through in the meantime, and both my heart and your father’s break with the thought that we couldn’t all be together.
This was her mother’s writing then. Sophia touched it, feeling a small flash of pain at finally being able to connect the woman she saw in her dreams to words that weren’t remembered ones. She kept reading.
I cannot say where we are now, because I do not know where we will be by the time you read this. Perhaps you will be reading it at a point when we have already found you, or perhaps you will not have seen us from the night when we were riven apart. I dare not guess, either, because to do so would be to give away too many safe places to our enemies in the event that they find this letter.
Sophia could feel her heart breaking with those words. She’d come here to find her parents and her heritage. She’d hoped that it would all be perfect once she got here; that she would find a vibrant, welcoming home from which she could send for her sister. Instead, she’d found an empty building, and a letter that wouldn’t even tell her where to look next.
There are things that I can tell you, though. First, remember who you are and why this is happening. You are the eldest child of the last generation of Danses. In another time, you would have been the heir to the kingdom’s throne, and more than that. You would have been the living heart of the kingdom, joined to it in a way that the Flambergs can never be, whatever they claim for themselves and their goddess.
That confirmed the things Sophia had already guessed, looking at the paintings, but it went further, too. It hinted at things Sophia wasn’t sure she understood. How could someone be the heart of the kingdom? She remembered what Emeline had hinted at before.
“What did you mean, that my family had a magical connection to the kingdom?” Sophia asked her.
Emeline spread her hands. “I don’t know the details,” she said. “It was always just a story from before I was born, and one you couldn’t tell where there was any risk that a priest or a spy might hear it.”
Sophia could understand that. She was asking the other girl questions about something she’d probably never paid any attention to, because what effect did any of this have on her life? Even so, Sophia had to know.
“Please,” she said. “Anything you can remember might help.”
“I don’t know,” Emeline said. “I think the idea was that the kingdom was almost like some kind of living thing, and they could keep it healthy. I’m sorry, I didn’t really pay attention.”
“No, I understand,” Sophia said. In any case it seemed too incredible to believe. She knew the limits of her powers, or she thought that she did, anyway. She could read minds, and connect to people at a distance. Apparently, she could influence the mind of an animal like Sienne, who curled against her legs even now. She couldn’t control an entire kingdom.
There was more to the letter, though:
In this compartment, you will find family trees showing who you are. Your uncle, my brother, is Lars Skyddar. Unless things have changed more than I could believe, he and his family rule in the ice lands around Ausberg. The docks to the east of Monthys have always had traders from Ishjemme. They should be able to get you to the city. If you can reach him, I believe that you will be safe. His army is a powerful one, and the ice has always been a deterrent to invaders.
There it was, another step in the long chain of them that Sophia hoped would lead her and her sister to safety. She wanted to believe that it was true. More than that, she wanted to believe that this might finally give them a chance to find their parents.
Your uncle will be able to vouch for who you are. I cannot think what your life will have been like apart from us, but he will allow you to reclaim who you are. If you wish to do it, he may be able to help you reclaim the kingdom that should always have been yours. Your father and I chose not to push our claims for the throne, because we thought it would bring peace in the wake of the civil wars. The truth was that it made things no better. It let the Flambergs do as they wished. Perhaps the time has come for that to stop.
Sophia didn’t know what to make of that. Did her mother really think that she would be in a position to take the kingdom from the Dowager? Did she think that Sophia would want to restart the civil wars?
The scariest part of the thought was the possibility that she might be able to do it. Just the idea that she was someone who could walk up and make a claim to the throne was… it felt insane. It would have been enough to learn that she had a living relative, an uncle she could go to. To learn that uncle was the ruler of his own land felt like too much. To hear that he might have an army to lend her to take her own kingdom… it was beyond anything Sophia could take in.
Whatever happens, know that we did not part from you willingly. My hope is that Lars will be able to give you everything you should have ever had, while my shame is that we were not able to be there to do it. Know that we love you, and we have always loved you. Everything we did was from that love, even leaving you. I hope you find a way to be safe. I love you.
Your Mother
That was all of it. Sophia turned the paper over in case there might be more, and when she turned it back, she could see the wet marks of her tears on the paper. It felt as though reading this, finally finding some connection to her mother, had opened a gate within her, and the tears fell through.
Cora and Emeline both put their arms around her, holding her close. Sophia appreciated the gesture, but it just brought back thoughts of being held by her parents, the memories bringing fresh pain with them. She’d expected so much from her journey to her parents’ home, but this was both too much and too little, all at once.
It was too much, because some of the things she’d learned during her time here seemed impossible to take in. On one level, Sophia could understand all the talk of her connection to royalty, and the thought that she might be the rightful heir to the throne. Yet, when it came to actually imagining herself in that position, she simply couldn’t do it.
It was too little, because whatever else this journey had given her, it hadn’t given Sophia her parents back. She didn’t know where they were. She didn’t even know what had happened to them, or when this
letter had been put there. She’d been hoping that they would be waiting there at the house, or at least that there would be a way to get to them from there. Instead, there had been no more than memories and a letter that told her no more.
Sophia was still trying to find a way through the muddle of thoughts when a crash came from somewhere above them. She stepped back from her friends, looking up in the direction the sound had come from.
“There’s someone here,” she said.
“But I thought this place was empty,” Cora replied.
Sophia had thought the same. She hadn’t been able to feel the presence of another mind there, but the truth was that she wasn’t certain she would have even if there were someone there.
“It can be hard to sense people consistently,” Emeline said, answering her unspoken question. “Maybe there was someone hiding.”
Cora looked worried by that prospect. “Should we find out who it is?” she asked. “What if they’re dangerous?”
It was a risk, but with Sienne by her side, Sophia felt relatively safe there. She wanted to find this person, whoever they were. Perhaps they knew more than was contained in the few scraps of paper the hidden compartment had held.
Perhaps they knew what had happened to her parents.
“I want to find them,” she said, and led the way through the house, trusting that the others would follow. They did, Sienne padding along beside her while Cora and Emeline followed in her wake.
More sounds came from above, and Sophia knew that she needed to find some stairs if she was going to locate whoever was moving around. And it was a person, she was sure of it now. She could feel the presence of a set of thoughts, and it didn’t feel like an animal, even if, at this distance, she didn’t feel as though she could read them to find out who this was.
Her memory supplied her with a route to a set of servants’ stairs, there so that servants could make their way through the great house without getting in the way of any guests. She and Kate had liked to run through hidden places like that when they were small, and their parents had let them, saying that the idea that servants should be hidden away was nonsense.
Sophia made her way up them now. The wood creaked under her feet in a way that suggested it was as poorly maintained as some of the rest of the house. She crept upstairs with the others, looking for whoever was up there.
On this level, she could see more signs of the fire, and of violence. There were soot stains on the walls, and gaps in the roof that let in a view of the sky. There were dark stains on the wood that at first she thought might be more soot, but that closer examination revealed to be blood. Sophia’s memory supplied the screams of servants as she and Kate had hidden. That night had been a thing of cruelty and thoughtless violence. Sophia didn’t want to think about it.
She needed to concentrate on the figure she’d sensed. She’d lost track of them now, but she knew roughly where they’d been: ahead, in the quarters reserved for the cook and the butler, the head gardener, and the other key members of the household. Sophia crept forward, wondering what she would find ahead.
Sophia heard Sienne growl then, in a low voice that spoke of the possibility of danger. She was learning to trust the forest cat’s instincts by now, and she spun, looking for danger.
“Hold!” a voice said. “Who goes there?”
There was a figure ahead, little more than a silhouette in the light from the broken roof section. Even like that, though, Sophia could see the crossbow in the figure’s hands, leveled at her heart.
“Tell me who you are!” the figure called. “Or I’ll kill you all like the thieves you are!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kate had never sailed before, and she should have been enraptured with the excitement of the new experience. She should have spent her time running to all corners of the transport ship, from the lowest bilges to the top of the crows’ nest. She should have at least been able to spend the journey over with Will, finding a quiet space somewhere to be together.
Instead, she spent the journey to Carrick consumed with a mixture of dread and guilt.
The dread came from the tension that was running through all the men on the ship. In such a confined space, Kate’s power could reach out almost at random and find a dozen men worrying about the tales of Carrick’s impregnability, or the stories of the Master of Crows’ talent for war. Even Lord Cranston seemed to be filled with it, his thoughts spinning with half-formed plans that only seemed to be depressing him with their ineffectiveness. He’d snapped at Kate several times on the way over, and the sheer incongruity of that had shown her just how terrifying this was.
The guilt was simpler: this was all her fault. She could see that thought in the minds of the men around her too, although at least some of them tried to hide it. She didn’t need to see it to know it was true. This was happening as a way to punish Lord Cranston for having her in his regiment. It wouldn’t have happened if Kate hadn’t joined his troops, hadn’t insisted on beating his sword master.
If she weren’t there, Lord Cranston, and his men, and Will would be safe.
But it was too late to do anything about that. It wasn’t as though she could leave the company while they were still at sea, short of jumping over the side and hoping that she washed ashore somewhere better.
Even if she’d wanted to do that, there was no time for it, because the Dowager had picked fast ships to transport Lord Cranston’s company. Carrick was already coming into view, in a wide swath of stone, wood, metal, and sand.
“Look at it, Kate,” Lord Cranston said, handing over an eyeglass. “Look at it and tell me what you see.”
Kate took the eyeglass and stared at the city ahead. The only city Kate had known was Ashton, and this was nothing like Ashton. Where the capital of the Dowager’s kingdom sprawled well past its walls in a flat wash of buildings, Carrick was contained in them like the fortress it was. Worse, Kate could see that those walls weren’t ancient things of simple stone, easily blown through with cannon. There were redoubts and sand banks there, palisades and extended lines of defenses.
“It really is a fortress,” Kate said.
“But one that we are obliged to attack,” Lord Cranston replied. “The fleet there is gathering.”
Kate could see it, an armada of vessels that seemed to range from cogs to galleons, their sails furled as they sat ready to be supplied with soldiers and weapons. It was obvious that they were readying for an invasion. It was just as obvious that anyone trying to assault the city would do so in the face of a storm of lead shot and cannon fire.
“It’s a death trap,” Kate said.
“There are things that a commander doesn’t say,” Lord Cranston replied.
“Not even ‘this is a bad idea, let’s regroup and try something else’?” Kate suggested.
Lord Cranston shook his head at that. “Not if that commander wants to avoid angering his queen, in this case. We have to attack.”
Kate couldn’t see how it could happen. If they dove into the midst of all that, they would die. The enemy would sweep around them like water around a drowning man and slaughter their entire company.
“How?” she asked. “I can’t see a way.”
She could see the uncertainty in Lord Cranston’s thoughts too, but he didn’t show it on the outside. “We’ll go in along the beach line, run in, and try to attack by surprise. Once we get there, we try to fire as many ships as we can in the first few seconds and make a grab for one of their standards. That is vital. Then we run, and we hope that we can run fast enough.”
Kate could understand the idea of hitting and running against something that seemed so impregnable. There was one part that she didn’t understand.
“Why is a standard so important?” she asked.
“Because we have to remember our goal here is not the defeat of the Master of Crows’ army,” Lord Cranston said.
Kate frowned at that. “It isn’t?”
“No.” Lord Cranston took his eyeglass back
and closed it with a snap. “Our goal is to find a way to provide the Assembly of Nobles with proof that we have complied with the Dowager’s orders. People have the stupid idea that seizing a standard from a company is a great feat of bravery, and so we will provide them with that proof of our daring raid. I just hope it will be enough.”
Kate vowed silently that if she could get Lord Cranston the standard he wanted, she would. For now, there was nothing to do but wait, watching the swirl of the seabirds overhead. Was there the darker flicker of crow feathers among them?
They came in close to shore, and now the company disembarked, wading through the shallow water. Kate went with them, moving swiftly and quietly.
“I think I saw crows,” she whispered to Lord Cranston. “They know we’re coming.”
He nodded, but didn’t answer. Kate guessed that there was nothing to say. They still had to do this.
“Attack!” he called, waving his men forward. “Quickly now! Raiding parties!”
His men surged forward along the beach, and perhaps their speed saved some of them as the first cannon fire roared across the approach to Carrick’s docks. Sand flew up in great gouts, and for a moment Kate couldn’t see anything of the world around her. That didn’t matter though. Right then, the only option was to keep moving forward.
She heard her ship’s cannons firing in response to the assault, and she thought of Will. Would he be safe, there on the ship, or would it just make him a sitting target in the violence? The worst part was that there was nothing Kate could do to keep him safe, nothing that she could do about any of the chaos around her. This was the reality of war: it didn’t matter how great her skills as a warrior were, because death could come from nowhere in an instant.