Of Fire and Stars

by Audrey Coulthurst

  I knocked softly on the glass, afraid to tap too loudly in case sentries kept watch on the roof. The last thing I needed was to be shot full of arrows at the top of a wobbly ladder. The light in the room winked out, but nothing else happened. I tried again, this time tapping a snippet of rhythm from the first piece of music Denna had played for me. Moments later, the window creaked open.

  “Mare?” she whispered.

  “I can’t believe you sneaked in there! If you had any idea how close we came to—”

  She cut me off by holding up the knife, the blade gleaming as lightning flashed. “I got it.”

  “By the Six,” I said, feeling a thrill of delight in spite of being soaked to the skin. She passed me the knife and I slipped it through my belt. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait . . . you want me to climb out the window?” she asked.

  “How else are you going to get out? The guard has already changed and won’t switch again until dawn. Captain Ryka will be up by then.”

  Denna shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “It’s not that high up. No higher than your window.” I put my hand up and caught her chin as she tried to look to the earth below. “Don’t look down.”

  “But—”

  “You can do this. I’m going to climb down a few rungs. All you have to do is swing your legs down, and I’ll make sure you hit the ladder before you let go. It’s like dismounting from a horse.”

  “I can’t.” Denna retreated back into the window until only her hand remained on the sill.

  “You have to.” I put my hand over hers. “Please. Trust me.”

  Her hand trembled beneath mine and I squeezed to steady it.

  “It’s not hard with a ladder.”

  “I don’t know, Mare . . . it doesn’t look particularly sturdy.”

  I had my doubts about the ladder, too, but this wasn’t the time to admit it. “It’s not going anywhere,” I said. “And once you’re on, I’ll go down first and hold it steady for you.”

  “I can’t.” She withdrew her hand. “I’m going to have to— Oh, no.” Her eyes widened. “Someone is outside the door!”

  “Get out here. Now.” I pulled the window the rest of the way open, rain spattering the inside of the glass and running down in rivulets. “Take my hand. Trust me.”

  She shook like a leaf in the storm as she swung a leg over the windowsill. I reached up and grabbed her calf, hoping that it might give her some sense of security.

  “The same as getting off a horse,” I said. “Swing over onto your stomach and drop down to the ladder. Slowly.”

  She took a deep breath. Even I could hear the voices now—voices that were going to discover us if she didn’t hurry. I cursed under my breath. Denna laid her chest on the sill, her leg still dangling out the window.

  “That’s right. Like dismounting. I’ll guide you.” I spoke as softly and soothingly as I could, trying to keep the urgency out of my voice. Keeping my hand on her leg, I carefully stepped down a rung, making room for her on the ladder.

  “The door is opening!” she whispered. The window swung wide as she scrambled to hang on.

  “Drop now!” I said.

  She dropped her other leg down toward the ladder, her chest still resting on the window frame. She was enough shorter than me that her toes could barely touch the first safe rung to stand on. Light filled the room and weakly drifted out to where we hung. I pulled.

  Denna slid down onto the ladder, her feet catching on a rung. My shoulder muscles strained as I supported her, throwing my chest forward to keep us both from pitching off the ladder. The rickety wood sagged with our combined weight, creaks sounding along its length. Resting my head against her back, I pressed us into the wall as voices carried out through the window.

  “What happened to the door?” a voice said.

  “I don’t know,” Jox answered. “I didn’t see anyone near here except Her Royal Horseness over in the other hall.”

  “Look—the window’s open. That must be what you heard,” the first liegeman said, his voice conversationally close.

  I held Denna so tightly, I was sure my arms would go numb. The rain pounded down on us both until her shirt grew as soaked as mine, but everywhere we touched felt hot and alive, charged with the fear of being caught. Finally, the window banged shut, and a shaky breath fought free of my lungs. I waited until I was sure the liegemen were gone, and then eased my hold on Denna.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “One rung at a time. Go slow. Don’t look down. I’ll be right here.”

  She nodded her understanding, shuddering as I pulled my body away from hers and the rain hit her back. I climbed to the bottom first, more grateful than I’d ever been to feel the wet earth soaking through the soles of my boots. Denna followed, her movements slow and deliberate. I offered her a hand as she reached the ground, and she stepped off the ladder into my arms. She sagged into me, and for a moment I was afraid she might cry. But when she looked at me, she had a small smile on her face.

  “We did it,” she said. “I can’t believe we did it.”

  “It was all you,” I said. She was so clever and brave, filled with small miracles that had made everything possible. Unexpected tenderness welled up in me, and my fingers were drawn to a clump of wet hair stuck to her cheek. I tucked it behind her ear. She caught my hand with hers, pressing it to her cheek.

  “I knew you’d distract that guard. And I knew you’d get me out of that room somehow,” she said. “Because I trust you.”

  In the deep dark of the garden I could barely make out her features, but I felt her when she turned her face into the palm of my hand. As her soft lips brushed the inside of my wrist, my blood sang. Any common sense I had completely vanished as impulse took over and I leaned forward. Her breath hitched as my focus narrowed to the curve of her mouth.

  A thunderclap shook the sky, and we stepped back from each other, suddenly shy.

  “We need to get inside,” I said, shaking off the strangeness of the moment, afraid of the direction things had almost gone. “I wish I had something to wrap the knife in.”

  “I have a handkerchief,” Denna offered, producing a sodden square of silk from one of her pockets.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s clean.”

  “Right. It’ll do for now.” I took the handkerchief and wrapped the wet fabric around the blade before shoving the whole thing into my boot. We took the ladder back to the shed, Denna supporting the other end as we made our way through the rain-slick paths of the garden, and put it away.

  Denna stayed attached to me like a burr in a broodmare’s tail as we ducked down into the tunnels beneath the castle, coming out in a broom closet close to my rooms. We sneaked past the hall guards and slipped into my chambers unnoticed. As soon as the door closed behind us, I exhaled what felt like the first full breath I’d managed all night.

  Denna’s eyes met mine and she gave me a crooked grin. And then she giggled. It started out small but bloomed into peals of laughter loud enough to wake the whole castle.

  “Shhh!” I said, trying to control my own laughter. It was futile. We both collapsed onto the rug in front of the fire, laughing until tears ran down our already wet faces into our damp clothes.

  “You’re insane!” I said.

  “I know. I can’t believe any of that worked! Some god of trickery must have been watching over us.” Denna brushed back the damp strands of hair that clung to her neck, her milky skin glowing in the low light of the fire.

  “Let’s hope that little god stays with us, then. We have another adventure to plan,” I said. I took out the knife and held it out to her. “Can you tell if it’s fake based on what you read?”

  She took the blade from me and held it close to the light of the fire. “There’s no grain in this metal,” she said. “If what I read is true, this is definitely a forgery, but we need better evidence to confirm it. We could see about finding a true piece of Zumordan weaponry in the cit
y. Or perhaps inquire about where one might obtain a high-end forgery.” She handed over the blade and I set it on the floor.

  “See? I’ll never need to go to the library again as long as I have you,” I teased.

  “But you should,” she replied, her eyes glittering. “So when should we go to the city?”

  “As soon as we can. Tomorrow afternoon?”

  “What about riding?”

  “With the way this rain is coming down, it’s going to be far too muddy to ride tomorrow. It might be muddy in town too, but clearly you don’t mind getting dirty. . . .” I gestured to her soaked clothes, which sent us into another fit of giggling.

  “I don’t! I can do it.”

  “All right. Come by my rooms around the time you would usually be going to your lesson. Tell anyone who asks that we’re going to be cleaning tack or something. And just to be safe, you’d best have an alibi in case we don’t make it back before dinner. Whatever you have to say to get out of any other obligations.”

  “My friend Ellaeni should be able to help cover my tracks. I can’t wait!” She leaned forward and threw her arms around me. “Thank you for today,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied, clumsily returning her hug. Our wet clothes clung to us, but beneath them the heat of her body burned against me. We both shivered, then parted, the awkwardness returning.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, eagerness shining in her eyes. She waved a quick good-bye and disappeared into the hallway. I shook my head, hoping the night patrol wouldn’t catch her, but knowing she’d probably manage a good excuse if they did.

  Sunlengths after she left, after I was dry, after I had changed into nightclothes and slipped into the warm cocoon of my bed, I still felt the phantom press of her arms around me.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Dennaleia

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, THE RAIN GAVE WAY TO brilliant sunshine and a cool breeze that made the trees shiver and sway. Autumn would be here soon. I met Mare outside the barn, eager for our adventure.

  “Ready?” she asked. She wore old riding clothes far too shabby for a princess, her russet hair twisted up in a knot she could easily stuff into a hat.

  “Yes,” I said. Excitement rushed through me. Since the previous night I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the moment we’d had at the bottom of the ladder, wondering what it meant and what her intentions were. She had looked at me as though I was everything—and it scared me how much I longed for it to happen again. Thandi should have been the one on my mind, but I couldn’t banish thoughts of Mare.

  “Are you sure we won’t get caught?” I asked.

  “No. But we managed all right last night, didn’t we?” Mare gave me a sideways smile as we ducked into the barn, leaving the wind outside behind us. She ushered me into the granary and closed the door. The room smelled like rolled oats and dried corn, molasses, and the rich green aroma of pressed alfalfa cubes.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “I’ll hold the door. There’s a change of clothes for you in the empty grain bin farthest from the hay.”

  “I can’t wear my riding outfit?”

  “Your riding habit cost more coin than some of the townspeople see in a season, and there are thieves who would be more than happy to strip you for it. The city isn’t as safe as it used to be.” Mare folded her arms. “Hurry and change—we don’t want to get caught.”

  I reached into the bin and pulled out some rumpled clothes made of rough fabric. I wrinkled my nose.

  “I didn’t say this would be glamorous,” Mare said.

  “I don’t care.” I squared my shoulders. Surely if I could crawl out of a second-story window in the pouring rain, it wouldn’t kill me to wear peasant clothes for a few sunlengths.

  “Good.” She smiled at me again, a sweet reward.

  Mare turned to face the door, listening to make sure no one approached. I pulled off my riding jacket and reached to unlace the corset beneath it. My fingers immediately snarled the strings into a knot. I cursed under my breath, though not as colorfully as Mare would have.

  “Problem?” Mare asked.

  “My laces are stuck. Can you help?” I hoped my voice sounded calm. The thought of her touching me filled me with anxiety. I hadn’t even been able to hug her the previous night without shivering with an unfamiliar emotion. She gestured for me to turn my back to her and began deftly loosening the tangle I’d created. Her fingers brushed me gently as she worked the knots free.

  The corset finally gave way, freeing me to take a deep breath. I raised my arms and she pulled it over my head, rolling it up and stuffing it into the bin where my change of clothes had been. Any chill that might have lingered from the wind outside was gone.

  “Mare . . .” I turned around to meet her eyes, not sure if I was going to thank her or try to say something more.

  “I’ll let you do the rest yourself,” she said before I could find words. “I have to watch the door. Hurry.” She turned and walked to the door, once more facing the exit while I pulled on the breeches and belted the tunic.

  “I look like a stable hand,” I said.

  “That’s exactly the point.” She winked at me, and my cheeks warmed.

  We stowed the rest of my clothes in the bin and darted out the door past rain-soaked hedges and flower beds to the garden that backed up against the wall surrounding the castle.

  “Where’s the door?” I asked, breathing hard from running.

  “No door.” She grinned. “We climb.”

  “You’re joking,” I groaned, my arms throbbing at the thought. “I’m still recovering from that blasted ladder!”

  “I’m afraid it’s no joke, my lady. Leg up?” She boosted me into the tree the same way she helped me onto horseback, her hands cupped beneath the ball of my foot. I scraped my palms on the rough bark, sending a shower of leaves and water droplets down onto her head. She came up on an adjacent branch, so graceful that the leaves barely rustled.

  “What now?”

  “Over the wall.” She stepped from branch to branch until she was able to swing a leg over the stone wall. “Come on.”

  I gritted my teeth and began the climb. It wasn’t far, but each branch felt as though it were farther than I could ever hope to reach.

  “You’re going to rile every gardener on the grounds if you keep shaking the branches like that.” Mare laughed at me, her gray eyes shining.

  “It’s not every day,” I panted, and grabbed another branch, “that a princess finds herself climbing trees.”

  “Maybe not for you,” she pointed out, holding out her hand to help me onto the wall. I clung to the rough stone, thankful to be out of the tree.

  “How do we get down from here?”

  “We jump,” she said. “I’ll go first and help you down.” And with that she slid down from the wall, tucking into a roll as she met the ground below. She came up smiling. “Your turn.”

  “This is insane,” I muttered. I flipped onto my stomach, feeling nothing but air under my feet. Trusting her came so easily now.

  “Bend your knees with the impact.” Her voice floated up over my back. “Go.”

  I hesitated only a moment before closing my eyes and letting go. We tumbled into a heap at the base of the wall.

  “You all right?” She hopped up and brushed off mud and leaves.

  “Yes,” I gasped as she pulled me to my feet.

  “Let’s go!” Mare beckoned. Though she didn’t offer it, I took her hand as we trotted along the wall toward the cresthaven. I half expected her to pull away, but instead she laced her fingers through my own without looking back. Our hands fitted together like the interlocking pieces of a puzzle.

  The roofs of houses appeared on the hill below as we approached the front of the castle grounds. They stabbed up into the sky in various shades of brown, the edges of the clay tiles still damp with rain. Mare pulled me away from the castle wall and through a narrow trail between two fenced yards. The sounds of the
city buzzed in my ears long before we reached the street. Shod hooves rang against cobblestones, the wind punctuated by the occasional shout.

  “Are you ready?” Mare paused and turned to me, dropping my hand.

  “Yes.” Despite my nervousness, I was.

  “Follow me.” She strode out from the alley as though she belonged there. I stayed at her heels, a nervous shadow. Though the street was relatively empty, I feared that all eyes were on me. It was different from the experience of being watched as Princess Dennaleia. Recognition was something to fear instead of something to expect. I longed to take Mare’s hand again for security and comfort.

  This close to the castle, opulent residences towered several stories high over the cobbled street. Ornate wrought-iron fences separated us from the manicured gardens behind them. Sculpted in shining metal, horses danced across the garden gates, their manes and tails flying as though the wind was trapped in the iron with them.

  “Where are we going?” I whispered.

  “You don’t need to whisper.” She laughed. “Nils is going to meet us at the Deaf Dog pub.”

  “I feel like people are looking at me,” I said. My magic simmered along with my tension, and I dug my fingernails into both palms to suppress it. Burning off a little by melting the lock on Ryka’s door hadn’t done enough to keep it at bay.

  “That’s because you aren’t looking at them, silly. Look around. People are busy, and out of the corners of their eyes they only see what they’re expecting.”

  As usual, she was right. No one returned my furtive looks, and I soon relaxed. Street traffic increased as we made our way farther from the castle. The fancy houses gave way to buildings that housed many families, laundry lines strung between windows, and children charging through the street so close to carts that it made me gasp. The scent of trash drifted out from alleys to mingle with the wet ground and the hundreds of bodies around us. Mare kept me close, her eyes constantly skimming the crowd, giving a wide berth to anyone with shifty eyes or an unsavory appearance.