“Not today,” I said, panting as we marched up the hill toward the castle, still shaky from our near miss. “But we did learn something valuable. What if the Elite couldn’t figure out where Cas’s killer shot from because magic was involved? We can go to the gardens and look for evidence.”
“I should be compensated for keeping you company,” he grumbled.
“You should thank me for making sure you’re never bored,” I replied, and cut across the groomed lawn in front of the stables toward the gardens.
We trudged through endless archways adorned with climbing vines and elegant topiaries all the way to the back of the castle. Peering up at the window of Cas’s study as we entered the closest atrium of the garden, I walked headlong into someone standing in the path.
Princess Dennaleia stepped back and smoothed her skirts, clearly flustered.
“Excuse me,” she said, taking in my grubby peasant garb with a wary eye.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. As far as I knew, she ought to be off doing some insipid court task by now.
“Looking for answers,” she said, her expression turning grim. “Can’t say I expected to meet anyone else here, though.”
I smirked at her subtle jab at the Directorate, impressed that she was brave enough to investigate Cas’s death on her own. And in spite of my diligent efforts to avoid getting too friendly with her, it moved me that she cared about him.
“This is Nils,” I said. “He keeps me out of trouble. Or gets in it with me.”
Nils bowed and gave Dennaleia his most charming smile—the one that turned most women’s brains to mush.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, and then turned back toward Cas’s window, her gaze jumping between it and a piece of paper in her hand.
I nearly laughed outright at the confusion on Nils’s face. He wasn’t used to women finding other things more interesting than him.
“So how in the Sixth Hell did someone make a shot into a second-story window from down here?” I asked.
“The only places to shoot from are the top of the garden wall or the roof of that shed,” Nils said.
Dennaleia shook her head. “The angle isn’t right. Lord Casmiel would have had to be standing right in front of the window. He wasn’t.”
I remembered then that Dennaleia had been the first to see him dead. “So, what would the angle have been?”
“I calculated the trajectory at somewhere between ten and fifteen degrees,” she said. “But in order for that to be the case, the shot can’t have been made from this garden. None of the structures are tall enough.” She showed us her paper, which had a detailed diagram of the garden and window—and enough mathematics to make my head hurt.
“Well, we know the Recusants are capable of enchanting weapons,” I said, shuddering at the memory of the burning knife. “So assuming the arrow had magical assistance, what else would fall on the path you calculated?”
All three of us surveyed the area and stopped at the same time on a tall tree two gardens away.
“That’s too far to shoot from,” Nils said. “The archer wouldn’t be able to see him through the window.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t have needed to see if magic was involved,” I said.
We strode through the gardens to the base of the tree.
“There,” Dennaleia said, pointing into the branches.
A small white circle was painted on the trunk, high enough that it was barely visible.
“I’ll take word to the captain,” Nils said. “I need to get ready for my shift anyway.”
“Don’t tell her I was here,” Dennaleia and I said at the same time.
Nils laughed. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“I don’t want Ryka questioning me,” I said. She’d want to know how we’d made this discovery, and I couldn’t have her find out how narrowly we’d escaped the brawl at the Pelham.
“Some of the noblewomen invited me to a tea and embroidery session, but I told them I didn’t feel well so that I could come down here instead,” Dennaleia admitted sheepishly. “And Thandilimon told me not to worry about things involving the Directorate. . . .”
Maybe I’d underestimated her.
“You won’t get a hard time from me about breaking the rules.” I shrugged. “But there’s one more thing I don’t understand. If the Recusants are being beaten in town—murdered even—why would they leave traces that would implicate them in Casmiel’s death?” It didn’t add up. No assassin was stupid enough to leave a mark. Why would a small rebel group like the Recusants risk persecution by the crown?
“It makes me wonder if someone else is involved,” Dennaleia said.
“Or another kingdom,” I said grimly. Perhaps Zumorda was rising after all.
ELEVEN
Dennaleia
AMARANTHINE BARGED INTO THE DRAWING ROOM half a sunlength after dessert had been served. The string quartet had already begun to play, and the musicians paused awkwardly between pieces, waiting for a cue to continue. The Six only knew where she’d been since I saw her in the garden earlier.
“Ah, Your Highness. So lovely of you to join us,” Lord Kriantz said to Amaranthine. He stood and escorted her to a chaise. Her hair was put up but in slight disarray, and her dress laced so loosely Auna would have had a fit at the mere idea. Still, she looked lovely, as if she had brought a bit of the wild summer evening inside with her. I shifted my weight in my chair, all too aware of the corset bones digging into my ribs.
“At least she’s reliably late,” Thandilimon grumbled, rolling his eyes.
Beyond him, the king shot Amaranthine a look that could have liquefied half the armory.
I glanced at Alisendi, who merely raised her eyebrows.
As the music picked up once more, Thandilimon took my hand, cradling it in his palm. While the gesture was thoughtful and reassuring, his fingers did not fit well between mine, and my hand ached before the minuet was even half complete. By the time the piece ended, I was grateful for the applause that allowed me to let go to show my appreciation for the music.
Amaranthine clapped as well, the baron leaning over to whisper something in her ear. Lord Kriantz tapped the inside of his ring with his thumb as they spoke. She laughed. Somehow one sentence he spoke was more engaging than anything I ever said. I wanted her to like me, but nothing I did seemed to help—not even helping to find the Recusant symbol in the garden. Frustration seethed in my stomach, and a dangerous tingle raced into my fingertips.
“Are you all right?” Alisendi asked.
“Oh, yes, of course,” I replied, silently cursing her ability to read my moods.
“You’ve been scowling ever since my sister came in,” the prince observed.
“I’m sorry, Thandilimon,” I said. “I suppose seeing Princess Amaranthine reminded me of how sore I’ve been from my riding lessons.”
“No need to apologize. And please call me Thandi as the rest of my family does. We’ll be family soon.” He smiled.
I managed to return his expression, grateful for the familiarity his nickname offered.
“At least Mare is keeping company with Lord Kriantz.” Thandi nodded respectfully in the baron’s direction. “I pity him the suffering, but perhaps he’ll encourage her to do something useful for the crown. He’s provided some excellent counsel to the Directorate.”
I pushed aside thoughts of Amaranthine and took advantage of the opportunity to ask what I really wanted to know. “Is the Directorate still investigating what happened with Casmiel?”
A flicker of sorrow passed over his face. “Yes, Captain Ryka is looking into some evidence found in the garden today. I won’t go into the details, though. I wouldn’t want to bother you with such dull things.”
I probably knew more about it than him.
“But I think Directorate business is quite interesting, and so important to the kingdom. If I can offer assistance in any way, I would be more than happy to,” I said. Maybe he would give me an opportunity to make m
yself useful, and to make my years of lessons worthwhile. Since Casmiel’s death, no one had asked me to do much of anything.
“I am sure that it would only cause you stress. But now that Cas is gone, we could use some help with royal correspondence. I’ll speak to someone about it as soon as I have the chance if you are lacking things to do.” He patted my hand and smiled, looking pleased with himself.
“Perhaps,” I said, disappointed. At least Amaranthine had put my calculations to use.
My sister nodded encouragingly, and I could see that she agreed with him. Any service to the kingdom was a worthy pursuit. Although he had asked for my thoughts from time to time, Thandi had shown no inclination so far to help prepare me to sit on the Directorate or contribute to political discourse in a meaningful way. If wearing a crown gave me power, I wanted to use it to make the world a better place, not to plan garden parties and poetry readings and write letters. The idea of being stuffed into a study somewhere to handle correspondence on behalf of the crown was not particularly alluring, but if necessary, I would do it.
I sighed and turned my head toward the string players, steeling myself for another dull court tune. Before I could fully exhale, something odd flickered in my peripheral vision. An unfamiliar servant passed behind us, moving more quickly than his job would ever call for. Something about it made me reach nervously for Thandi’s arm, but before I could touch him, the servant drew a dagger from his boot and lunged for the king.
“Look out!” I screamed, but it was already too late.
The king’s personal guard drew his sword and shielded him, nimbly avoiding the assassin’s blade as it sliced through the air. Thandi pulled me out of my chair and urged me toward the door. I stumbled and lurched away from him, my knees smarting as I fell to the unforgiving stone floor. Beads popped off my dress and scattered like hailstones as I scrambled away, following my sister toward the wall.
I turned around when I hit the edge of the room, clinging to Ali. The assassin had missed his target and was cornered by the empty fireplace. He snarled in frustration as he faced off against the king’s guard—the only liegeman in the room with us. This time, a swift strike from the assassin took out the guard, and the liegeman toppled to the ground with blood pulsing out of a wide gash in his neck. My whole body shook. There was nothing I could do, and no way to escape. A few of the noblemen beat on the heavy wooden doors beside us, more interested in saving their own lives than that of their king. The doors held fast, barred from the outside. Someone had turned against us. I couldn’t imagine who.
Lord Kriantz was the exception to everyone else’s panic. He slipped in front of the king like a shadow, and Thandi and Amaranthine came up to flank him. An acidic taste coated my tongue as the assassin struck at Lord Kriantz, who barely dodged the blow in time. I adjusted my position to shield Alisendi. If only one of us made it out alive, it had to be her. The burn of magic rose in my chest. I clamped down on it and prayed for the fire god’s mercy and the strength to keep it under control.
The assassin attacked again, his blade biting into Thandi’s arm. A cry escaped my lips as Thandi gritted his teeth and pulled the arm in close to his side. Amaranthine retaliated, kicking at the assassin’s legs, but he dodged and lunged again for the king. Lord Kriantz used his forearm to shove the assassin’s blow aside with the swift grace of a snake. Behind the king, an oil lamp exploded, showering everyone with glass and sparks. My control was slipping.
“Do something!” Alisendi whispered.
The assassin struck at Amaranthine, catching her shoulder with his blade, and her yelp of pain brought another unstoppable rush of magic. As little as she seemed to like me, the idea that a person as bold as her could be taken down in a closed room without a fair fight filled me with white-hot anger. The magic exploded out of my control.
The assassin ignited from the inside out just as a short blade shot out of Lord Kriantz’s sleeve and embedded itself in the man’s throat. His body swelled and bloated until gore erupted from beneath his cracked and blackened skin, viscera catching fire as soon as they hit air. As flame consumed him, the power drained out of me in a rush, leaving me weak. I huddled against Alisendi’s side. White-faced and trembling, she held me close.
“What in the—” Amaranthine stumbled back from the burning body as Lord Kriantz swooped in to smother the remaining flames with a wall tapestry.
I gagged as the smell of burning flesh and carpet stung my eyes and throat. Footsteps scuffled in the hallway as the doors were finally unbarred. Liegemen burst into the room, naked steel in their hands.
“Fetch the captain of the guard immediately,” the king roared. He grabbed a sword from one of the guards closest to him and waved it around as he stomped through the room. “Someone will answer for this!”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The senior liegeman gestured for the others to lower their swords and begin escorting everyone to safety. The room slowly emptied of people, some hurrying away as quickly as the liegemen would take them, and others lingering to crane their necks at the smoking body on the floor.
“Your Highness, are you all right?” A liegeman reached down to help me to my feet and then pulled Alisendi to hers. Even with his assistance I could barely trust my quivering legs. The liegeman brought us out to stand beside Thandi, who gripped the cut on his arm, his jaw set against the pain. Amaranthine stood on the other side of him, not looking particularly bothered by the blood seeping through the ripped shoulder of her dress.
“What in the Sixth Hell just happened?” Thandi asked.
“You got yourself sliced up,” Amaranthine answered. “Let me see it.” She reached for Thandi’s arm.
“No. The healers can deal with it.” He jerked his arm away.
“Or you could let me do it so you don’t bleed out before they get here,” she snapped. She pried his fingers from the wound, and he winced as she yanked the fabric away from the cut.
“Ouch!”
“It’s not that bad.” She tore a piece of trim off the sleeve of her gown and tied it tightly around his arm above the wound. As soon as she was done, Thandi pulled his arm back, cradling it protectively. Amaranthine shot him a disgusted look.
I was merely relieved that they were both in one piece. Thank the Six I hadn’t lit one of them up instead. If any harm had come to them or Alisendi because of me, I might as well have gone to the Great Temple and turned myself in to the priests as a heretic and let them do with me what they saw fit.
“Lord Kriantz!” Amaranthine shouted down the hallway.
“Yes, Your Highness?” The baron strode toward us, turning away from the two liegemen to whom he’d been speaking.
“Your knife,” Amaranthine said. “Is that an enchanted blade?”
“Not that I’m aware of, my lady.”
I kept my arms wrapped tightly around myself and peered back into the room behind me. Seeing the blackened corpse alongside the chair, I doubled over as my stomach churned. If anyone found out that it had been me who set him ablaze, I would be ruined. Never mind that I couldn’t explain how it had happened in the first place. Ever since I had arrived, my magic had become increasingly out of control. According to my mother, it should have faded with age, not grown. Yet somehow I had just killed a man.
“Not that you’re aware of? Then which of the Six Hells did that fire come from?” Amaranthine asked.
Alisendi squeezed my arm, but I didn’t acknowledge it.
“Your speculations are as good as mine. My blade was forged in Sonnenborne. We prefer simple steel to magic,” Lord Kriantz said.
Amaranthine frowned at him. She started to say something else but shut her mouth instead, her full lips pressing into a pensive line. Her gaze flickered to me.
I quaked beneath her scrutiny, afraid she somehow saw the truth.
“Are you all right?” Amaranthine asked me.
“I don’t feel well,” I said. My head spun, and my body threatened to follow.
“Get her to her rooms,
” she told a liegeman nearby.
I sagged against the wall, grateful for Amaranthine’s take-charge attitude.
“I’ll come along to make sure she’s all right,” Alisendi said with a tremble in her voice.
The liegeman nodded to Amaranthine and guided us from the scene. Dark spots hovered at the edges of my vision as we walked away.
When the door to my rooms closed safely behind us, Alisendi sank into one of the chairs and put her head in her hands.
“This is so much worse than I thought,” she said. “If anyone finds out that was you—”
“I know,” I snapped. “I didn’t mean to do anything. It’s been different since I’ve been here.”
Ali chewed her lip the way she always did when there was something she wasn’t telling me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. But things haven’t been very stable in Havemont since you left.”
“What do you mean? What does that have to do with what happened tonight?” I couldn’t believe she’d been holding things back from me. We used to tell each other everything.
“Zumordans have started springing up like weeds these last few weeks. They’re everywhere now, gathering to protest being banned from the High Adytum.”
“But why? Banning them wasn’t even part of the original terms of the alliance,” I said. “Everyone here seems to think it was, but why didn’t we know?”
“I’ve reviewed the original decrees. The wording is vague,” Ali said. “Ten years was plenty of time for them to find loopholes. Now groups are forming who believe only in the Six, who are certain that the magic users are going to strike out against us.”
“The same thing that’s happening here,” I said softly. I couldn’t reconcile the fear in me—both for my kingdom and myself.
“If anything happens to the alliance now, we won’t have the Mynarian liegemen we need to hold back the Zumordans. If it falls apart completely, Zumorda might try to annex us to prevent this happening again. And in the meantime, those who oppose them are growing more restless and violent by the second. If anyone finds out that you yourself have some kind of gift, something big enough to kill a man, what then?”
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