“Both sides will see me as a betrayer,” I whispered. “Everyone will be out for my blood.”
“You have to find a way to stop it. Get rid of it,” Alisendi said. “It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”
I stood up and stepped over to where she sat. She moved over without a word, and I wedged myself in beside her like we used to do as children, curling up together in the same chair. She put her arms around me and let me cry on her shoulder, softly rubbing my back until the tears eased.
But even after my cheeks were dry, I still didn’t know how to do what she asked of me. She might as well have asked me to cut out my heart or stop drawing breath.
TWELVE
Mare
AMIDST THE CHAOS I SLIPPED BACK INTO THE DRAWING room and retrieved the assassin’s blade from where it had fallen. The heavy dagger was adorned only with a plain white pommel nut and had the heft and edge of something well made.
“That looks Zumordan,” Lord Kriantz said over my shoulder.
“Really?” I turned to him. “How do you know?”
“The style looks like one I saw in Kartasha a few years ago,” he replied, wiping his own knife clean of blood and soot.
“I can take that, Your Highness.” A liegeman who looked barely old enough to be in uniform stepped forward and reached for the knife in my hand.
“I don’t think so.” I pulled it away from him and stepped back, nearly knocking into Lord Kriantz.
The liegeman continued to hold out his hand. “It’s quite sharp, Your Highness, you shouldn’t—”
“Oh, piss off,” I said, losing patience.
The young liegeman’s eyes widened and then shifted into a glare.
“The captain will be here shortly,” he said.
“I’ll give it to her when she arrives,” I lied. I had no intention of turning over the knife—not until they made me. The blade could lead me to Cas’s killer, Zumordan or otherwise. Knowing the Directorate, they’d only argue over it for a moon and then shove it in a drawer somewhere to collect dust.
“I will help see that the blade winds up in the proper hands,” Lord Kriantz cut in.
I shot him an annoyed look, but our combined words had the desired effect.
“Fine,” the liegeman said. “See that you do.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
I made a rude face at the liegeman’s retreating backside. As soon as he was out of sight, I flipped my grip on the blade so it lay against the inside of my wrist and then pressed my arm into the folds of my skirt. With the blade sufficiently hidden, I ducked back out into the hallway. Lord Kriantz followed close on my heels.
I made my way through the lingering nobles and liegemen, moving as neutrally as I could to avoid drawing attention. Right before I got clear of the crowd, Lord Kriantz spoke.
“May I walk you to your chambers?” he asked.
I hesitated for a moment, but company sounded like a good idea under the circumstances, and the sooner I got away, the less likely it was that Captain Ryka would catch up to me. Maybe having Lord Kriantz with me would reduce the likelihood of my being followed.
“All right,” I said. We strode away from the crowd until their voices faded away behind us.
“Do you mind if I take a look at your blade?” I asked as soon as we were out of earshot.
“Of course not, my lady.” He pulled the small knife from his wrist sheath and handed it over as we continued toward my rooms.
“Sonnenborne workmanship,” I grumbled. Knives were hardly my area of expertise, but there was nothing unusual about it as far as I could tell. It was a simple blade, unadorned, clearly made for the exact purpose for which it had been used. “Does my father know you’ve been toting this thing around in your sleeve?”
“No, but I doubt he’ll complain, since it saved his life tonight. We Sonnenbornes don’t make a habit of going anywhere unprepared. The desert is unforgiving, as are its people.” He slipped the knife back into its concealed sheath, and the mechanism that had released it clicked back into place.
“So what were you doing in Zumorda a few years ago?” I asked. Few were brave enough to cross the border, especially to visit the cities closest to his holdings. Not one of them had a good reputation.
“Horse trading. It’s one of the better markets for Mynarian culls, as I’m sure you know.”
“Right.” What he said was true, but unenlightening. Exhaustion weighed me down as the heightened energy of the fight faded away. “By the Six, I’m weary of puzzles and deaths.”
“As are we all, I’m afraid,” he said.
Before Cas’s death I had rarely worried about my ability to take care of myself within the castle walls, but tonight it was nice to have another person with me. We walked on in silence until we reached the door to my rooms. The two liegemen moved aside to let me enter, and Lord Kriantz followed me in.
“Thanks for helping get that liegeman off my back,” I said. “And fighting for my father. If you hadn’t . . .” As strained as my relationship was with my father, I didn’t want any harm to come to him. Lord Kriantz had made all the difference. Everyone else had only tried to save themselves—except Dennaleia, who had been too busy cowering in the corner. Half fainting away was probably covered in one of her handbooks on how to be a proper lady.
“Of course. I’m happy to help at any time. Speaking of which, it’s best you let me look around in case any other dangers are hiding in the shadows.” He stepped gracefully around me.
“I think it should be fine,” I said. “The liegemen never leave their posts.”
“Like the ones stationed outside the drawing room tonight?” he asked, pulling back my curtains.
“You’re right.” I rubbed my temple. “Anything is possible. I suppose it’s better to check than to wind up dead.”
He prowled around the room a moment more, his dark eyes raking every surface.
“I think you’re all clear, my lady.” He stepped forward and took my hand, brushing his thumb across my palm. “You were very brave tonight.”
“Any half-wit would have done the same,” I said gruffly, though his compliment pleased me.
“I disagree. A few people here seem to have trouble with . . . inaction.”
“Spoken like a diplomat,” I said.
“Spoken like an ambassador,” he replied with a gentle smile. “This is not my kingdom. I do not presume to know how it should be run. If anything, I hoped to learn some things here that might be applied to Sonnenborne as we develop our own system of governance.”
“You don’t have to be polite with me. The Directorate is obviously more interested in slinging manure at one another than doing anything about investigating Cas’s death.”
Lord Kriantz nodded but didn’t speak.
“Why did you help me, anyway?” I asked.
“Alliances are not only built from the top down, my lady,” he said. “And I am as interested in the source of these attacks as you are. A threat to Mynaria could be a threat to Sonnenborne. I’m eager to ensure that both our kingdoms remain safe.”
“Well, if the Directorate won’t find out where this thing came from, then I will,” I said, scowling at the blade in my hand. Brushing the blood grooves with anxious fingers, I flipped the knife over. It shone brightly even in dim light.
“I have no doubt you will,” Lord Kriantz said. “I should be off. Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you.”
“Thank you, Lord Kriantz,” I said.
“Good night, Mare. Stay safe.” He bowed and exited the room.
I appreciated someone who knew not to overstay his welcome. I set the knife down on my vanity and paced over to my couch. The cut on my shoulder stung when I probed it with my fingers. The torn fabric of my dress had stuck to it. I grimaced as I pulled the ripped material away, but the wound was shallow.
I rang for my maid, Sara. It wasn’t the first time I’d come home cut up from something or other, and it was better not to waste the healers’
time with something she could handle. Summoning Nils held more appeal, but he was on duty.
A knock sounded on my door. “Come in, Sara,” I called from the bedroom.
But instead of my maid, Captain Ryka appeared in the doorway with four of her Elite liegemen.
“I trust you know what happened to the assassin’s weapon,” she said, her gaze steely.
“I was going to bring it to you tomorrow,” I lied, cursing the liegeman who had ratted on me.
She shook her head. “I know you too well to believe that, but this isn’t the time to play around. Cas was my husband. Don’t stand in the way of my investigation—or my revenge.” She didn’t scare me as much as she had when I was a child, but her words still made me quake a little.
“There’s no evidence that this was even connected to the other attack,” I argued.
“That’s my problem, not yours. We’ll be taking the blade now,” she said.
“No!” I leaped to my feet, but she snatched the dagger from my vanity before I made it halfway across the room.
“If you aren’t going to show up to the Directorate, don’t meddle in our business,” she said, and marched back out, letting the door slam behind her.
“Maybe if you got anything done, I wouldn’t have to,” I said, and threw a shoe at the closed door. Perhaps I should have followed her, but I didn’t have any more fight in me, not after tonight.
Without the blade to take to town to research, my only resource left was the library. The thought of locking myself in there to pore over books made me sob with boredom. I needed another ally, preferably someone well-read. Someone who might be able to parse out details about the blade and arrow that would identify the true enemy. Then it struck me that I already knew the best-schooled person in the palace: Princess Dennaleia. And fainting aside, she clearly had her wits about her based on her speculations about the white arrow and the calculations she’d done to figure out from where the archer had made the shot.
I had no other choice—I’d have to get her on my side as soon as possible.
THIRTEEN
Dennaleia
THE MORNING FOLLOWING THE ASSASSINATION attempt found me in the royal library. Noblewomen clustered around me, their bright dresses whispering over the soft carpets. Thandi had suggested I socialize with the other highborn girls at court before my sister left. In light of recent events, she had elected to return to Havemont as soon as enough liegemen could be spared to escort her. In the meantime, I had to suffer the frustration and boredom of listening to the other girls carry on about nonsense when there were many deeper concerns at hand.
Underscoring the importance of developing closer relationships at court, a letter from my mother had arrived early that morning. After a few words of sympathy over Casmiel’s demise, the rest of her message was devoted to the importance of the alliance and my duty to see that our two kingdoms rose to meet this new and uncertain enemy as one. It closed with a reminder to spend my praise days wisely and to devote my time equally among the Six. I knew what that truly meant—that I needed to keep my hands out of the fire, so to speak.
I thought I’d kept my gift from her all those years after she’d caught me in the hearth. If she knew something I did not, she should have told me before formal letters had become our only way to communicate. She should have told me how to stop it before I killed a man. But for now I still had to do as she wished and be the leader and ambassador my people required.
Trapped amidst the other girls as they vied for position by my side, I struggled to catch a glimpse of the books we passed while still keeping an ear on the conversation.
“Did you hear that the Count of Nax is going to marry that provincial woman from the east?” the blond girl on my left asked.
“No!” Annietta of Ciralis covered her mouth in shock. “But she’s so strange. Practically Zumordan. What if living so close to the border has tainted her with magic?”
“My father says she’s doing it to throw suspicion off their family. He thinks they’re supporters of the Recusants,” a voice added from the back of the group.
How they could gossip about weddings in light of Casmiel’s death and the assassination attempt made little sense. I chose not to comment, instead turning my head to admire the king’s book collection. Dim light filtered through tiny windows near the top of the vaulted ceiling, casting a cool glow over the tall bookcases. The depth and breadth of the Mynarian library were consistent with its place at the center of the Northern Kingdoms. Shelves towered over us on either side, sections marked with intricate wooden signs painstakingly carved by master craftsmen. Inhaling deeply, I reveled in the familiar smell of ink and parchment.
The cluster of girls stopped in the poetry section, eager to choose poems for the reading in a few nights’ time. They giggled as they pulled books from the shelves, skimming for suggestive lines they hoped would win the attention of the men or women courting them. At least my sister managed to hold back. I was fairly certain she knew all the dirtiest poems by heart, but she wisely comported herself with dignity.
“What do you think of this one, Your Highness?” The pushy blonde shoved a book under my nose.
I smiled politely and took it from her.
“Callue is always a classic choice,” I said, returning the book to her. A burst of shoving ensued as every other girl tried to get her hands on another volume of Callue.
My sister rolled her eyes and mouthed “Horomir,” and I covered my smile with a hand. Vili Horomir penned the naughtiest poems in the Northern Kingdoms, generally filled with terrifying euphemisms for parts of the male physique. If the girls wanted suggestive poems, they ought to have consulted my sister instead of me.
I quietly stepped out of the way, wondering if it would ever seem less strange to have everyone leap to imitate what I did—everything from my dresses to my choice in poetry. Only one other girl hung back from the crowd, smiling timidly at me. I remembered her from my wedding bazaar as Hilara’s third recommendation. The shy one from the sea.
“Hello,” I said. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”
The girl blushed. “Ellaeni of Trindor, Your Highness.” She curtsied.
“Not interested in Callue?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Oh, Callue is nice. I . . . I’m not sure what to choose. Getting up in front of people makes me nervous. And the only person I would have wanted to read for is back home.” She bowed her head, a curtain of shining black hair falling across her cheeks.
“Well, I’ve found that making people laugh tends to be a good antidote for all those things. If you like, I can show you some of my favorites by a different poet,” I said, excited to make a suggestion of something I truly loved.
“That would be wonderful, my lady.” She brightened.
I escorted Ellaeni around the other girls to a later part of the alphabet and pulled a thin, plain volume from the shelf, thumbing the book open. “This is one of my favorites. Razkiva mostly writes humorous rhymes about animals.”
She smiled as she read the poem.
“This is perfect, Your Highness,” she said.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t linger too long with Ellaeni for fear of showing favoritism, but I made a mental note to connect with the girl later, away from the others. With her diffidence, she seemed as though she needed a friend. I turned to face the group and begin my rounds when a voice far too loud for the indoors burst out behind me.
“There you are!” Amaranthine said.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. Amaranthine’s riding clothes already adorned her familiar form, her braid only moderately tidier than it usually was in the afternoon.
“Hello, Lady Amaranthine.” I curtsied, both to remind her of her manners and because every other girl had dropped her book to watch what was unfolding. My sister glanced between me and Amaranthine with a questioning expression.
“I need to talk to you,” Amaranthine said.
I smiled in an attempt
to reduce my irritation as magic prickled through the palms of my hands. “Perhaps we could speak after my riding lesson today?”
“No, I need to talk to you right now,” she insisted, not even sparing a glance for the other noblewomen.
I gritted my teeth, hoping no one could see. “As you wish,” I said. “Why don’t we step outside?”
“No,” she said. “Back here is fine. It’ll only take a moment.”
She darted behind a bookshelf, leaving me to politely excuse myself from everyone else to follow her. My sister, thank the Six, took command of the situation and started urging the noblewomen to practice reading for one another. The librarian’s eyes followed me as I went after Amaranthine, accompanied by his furious scowl of disapproval.
“Amaranthine, I’m sorry, but this isn’t the best time—” I began.
“What do you know about Zumorda?” she interrupted me.
Tingles shot through my palms and I clamped my hands down on the shelf behind me in an attempt to hold in the magic. A surge of disappointment followed the rush of power. My gift had been quieter since I’d killed the assassin. I’d foolishly hoped that it had been permanently drained away. If I could kill without meaning to, there was no telling what might happen next now that it was rising up again. The thought made me sick to my stomach.
“Listen—Lord Kriantz said the blade used in the assassination attempt the other night is probably Zumordan. I don’t know how to verify that, and I was hoping you could help.”
“Why don’t you ask the smith? Or the weaponsmaster? Or even the captain of the guard?” I asked. The Zumordan merchant from my bazaar also crossed my mind, but Amaranthine wouldn’t have known to ask me about him. I couldn’t imagine what sort of demented reasoning would lead her to me for information about a weapon.
“They won’t know.” She shook her head. “Havemont is the only kingdom with a major city close to Zumorda, and I know you’ve spent a lot more time at your studies than me. I want to know how a blade of their design could have ended up here. It could point to them as the source of the attack, and perhaps also as Cas’s murderers. There could be spies in our midst. Or maybe they’re working through the Recusants.”
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