The Caged Queen

by Kristen Ciccarelli

  “Asha.”

  After the revolt, when the law demanded Dax’s sister pay the killing price of a king, Roa had helped her and Torwin escape. They’d been on the run for over a month now, with an abundance of prices on their heads. Not everyone was pleased with the new king’s reign, and Dax’s enemies had only to gain by using his sister against him—if they could catch her.

  Asha was here? said Essie. Her silver eyes scanned the shadows and corners of the study, searching for traces of her.

  Roa skimmed the black handwriting once more. “Who’s the intended recipient?”

  Isn’t it obvious? Essie took the letter in her beak, then set it down on the desk where she could examine it more closely.

  It wasn’t obvious to Roa.

  Dax is the only one who comes here. When he does, he brings only a select few with him. They’ve probably been passing messages this way since Asha and Torwin escaped the city. Taking the letter in her beak once more, she lifted it up to Roa. If they’re in danger, Dax needs to know.

  Dax wasn’t in the dining room where Roa and Essie had left him and the others. So they checked the terrace, then the gardens, but he wasn’t there either. Finally, the cook led Roa to his room and told her to wait. She’d find the king and send him to her.

  There were no guards standing outside. So Roa walked right in and shut the door behind her.

  The evening sunlight pooled on the dirt floor, spilled across the bed, and illuminated the tapestries hanging on the plain white walls.

  With no one here to see her, Roa moved toward the first tapestry. It was of a scrublander woman with dark curls and clear black eyes. She wore a gold circlet on her head and was smiling in a way that said she knew something Roa didn’t. Her two children were with her: a very young and unscarred Asha, held aloft in her mother’s arms, and a slightly older Dax, standing next to them. The artist had captured the exact color of his eyes—a warm brown, wide and curious—as well as those jug-handle ears.

  Beside this tapestry hung two others. By the brighter quality of the colors, she could tell both were more recently made.

  The first one was of Asha, rendered in gold and red threads, with a burn scar running down her face. She held a hunting axe in one hand and a scroll in the other. Beside her was a freckle-faced young man playing a lute.

  Torwin, thought Roa, touching the threads with her right hand while her left tightened around the letter.

  She hoped he was safe. She hoped they both were.

  The last tapestry was of Dax’s cousin, Safire. The new commandant. Her keen blue eyes peered out at Roa, as if trying to decide if she was a threat.

  They were images of the king’s family.

  But why keep them here? asked Essie, who’d been snooping around the room while Roa studied the tapestries. She came now to settle on the top of Dax’s bedpost. So far from the palace?

  Roa didn’t know.

  As she turned to face her sister, she found herself at the foot of Dax’s bed.

  Roa looked down at the silky blue sheets and gold cushions. As she reached to touch the translucent canopied veils, she wondered how many girls he’d brought here, and if they’d spent the night in this bed.

  She wondered what it would be like.

  Maybe you should climb in and see, said Essie from her perch on the bedpost.

  Roa’s face flamed. This was one of the few unfortunate consequences of their bond. Essie knew her most embarrassing thoughts.

  Roa threw her a look.

  What? Those silver eyes flashed.

  Roa glowered at her sister, who radiated warm delight back at her.

  Oh come on, Roa. I dare you.

  You dare me? What are we, eight years old?

  You, Essie shot back, are obviously scared.

  Hot, sharp anger burst through Roa. She blasted her sister with it, then pushed aside the veils.

  She considered the bed. Her heart beat wildly.

  Maybe Roa was scared. Just a little.

  Sliding off her slippers, she climbed onto the sheets and sat cross-legged, staring up at the white bird at the top of the bedpost.

  There. See?

  Maybe you should lie down, Essie said, teeming with mischief. Really test it out.

  Roa gritted her teeth. Fine. She flopped stiffly back against the pillows.

  The sheets were soft and smooth. They smelled like they’d been spritzed with rosewater, perhaps by one of the staff.

  Roa closed her eyes, just for a heartbeat, breathing in the sweet, floral scent.

  That doesn’t look so bad, Essie said. Maybe I’ll—

  A heart-stopping sound cut her off: the creak of a knob, turning. The slow groan of a door, opening.

  Roa’s eyes flew open.

  Quick! Essie said, her voice full of laughter. Hide!

  She flew out into the gardens. Roa rolled off the bed and onto the floor, humiliation flaring through her. She quickly slid underneath, her heart pounding so hard she felt certain it would burst right out of her chest.

  “Roa?” Dax called.

  His footsteps echoed across the floor, from the hall to the terrace. Roa looked to the door, but it was shut.

  Worst of all? Her slippers were lying in full view. Just out of her reach.

  Roa cursed her own carelessness.

  To Essie, who was somewhere out in the garden, she said, This is all your fault.

  Essie sent a golden feeling back—her version of a laugh.

  As if this was funny.

  Roa felt like such a fool. If she answered Dax, he would clearly see she was hiding under his bed. He would want to know why. But if he knew what she’d done just now—lying down in his sheets, breathing in the smell of his pillows—there was only one conclusion he could come to.

  Roa squeezed the letter in her hand.

  I need to give it to him, she thought, even as she lay frozen in place, her cheek pressed against the cool dirt floor.

  Dax stood at the window now, the breeze ruffling his curls. Roa’s heart pounded as she watched his fingers loosen the laces of his shirt, then roll his sleeves up to his elbows. She watched him kick off his boots and lean, barefoot, against the sill as he stared out across the sand sea.

  Sighing roughly, he turned around, then sank slowly down the wall to the floor. He sat with his knees bent and his hands tangled in his hair, like he was trying to solve an unsolvable problem.

  Sooner or later, he was going to see the slippers beside the bed. Then see Roa beneath it.

  Better to get it over with . . .

  But at the same moment Roa decided to reveal herself, someone knocked on the door.

  Roa went still, pulling back as Dax rose to his feet.

  Halfway to the door, though, something made him stop. He turned back, paused, then came toward the bed.

  Roa could only see his bare feet as he bent down, then his fingers as he reached for her slippers. He picked one up. All he had to do was get down on his hands and knees . . .

  All he had to do was look.

  Roa bit down hard on her lip, praying to any gods who just might happen to be listening.

  The knock came again. Dax straightened.

  “Who is it?”

  “Just me,” came a too-familiar voice. Lirabel.

  The king went to answer the door, taking the slipper with him.

  Roa let out a breath.

  “Oh, Dax.” Lirabel’s strained voice echoed through the room. “We’re in so much trouble.”

  She was pacing. Frantic. Her sandals had tracked sand in, and it scattered in her wake. “I’d hoped it was just an illness . . .”

  “Lirabel—”

  But whatever Dax was going to say fell away as the room plunged into a stilted silence. And even though Roa could only see her friend’s legs, she could hear Lirabel’s tiny punctuated gasps of breath.

  She was crying.

  “Today I counted,” Lirabel whispered when she’d gotten control of herself. “It’s been eleven weeks.
”

  Dax stayed near the door, completely silent.

  “It’s been eleven weeks since the last time I bled.”

  A cold feeling spread through Roa. Like the early-morning frost that settles over the ground in the cold season.

  When Dax still didn’t respond, Lirabel said: “Eleven weeks is too long, Dax!”

  Roa wanted to peer out and look at them. But if she did that, she would surely be seen.

  “Lirabel,” Dax finally said, perfectly calm, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying . . . ,” she whispered, “that I’m pregnant.”

  Roa flinched.

  It was quiet for several heartbeats. And then Dax whispered: “What?”

  Eleven weeks. That would have been before the revolt. When Dax was visiting the scrublands, asking for Roa’s help.

  Had they—had this—been going on for that long? Right under Roa’s nose?

  Was this the reason for Lirabel’s distance?

  She suddenly saw them in her mind. Dax and Lirabel—her husband and her friend—together in the very bed she hid beneath. The bed Essie dared her to lie in.

  She told herself she didn’t care. That it didn’t matter.

  But if that were true, why did it feel like she’d just been stabbed in the ribs?

  “What am I going to do?” Lirabel whispered.

  Roa moved ever so slightly, trying to see, when another knock came on the door.

  She watched Dax’s hands clenching and unclenching. But that was the only visible sign of distress she could see in him.

  Finally, he moved to answer it. Lirabel turned to the wall, concealing her tears from whoever was interrupting.

  “What is it?” Dax asked.

  “I was sent to fetch you, my lord.” The voice sounded like one of the staff. Out of breath. “A fight’s broken out between your caravan and members of the House of Sky. We . . . we aren’t sure what to do.”

  “Give us a moment,” Dax said, shutting the door and turning to Lirabel.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I need to deal with this.”

  Roa frowned. Dax had guards to deal with things like skirmishes.

  Lirabel remained facing the wall.

  “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. As soon as we arrive back in Firgaard, I’ll see what I can do for you. All right?”

  A cold silence bloomed through the air. Lirabel had nothing else to say to him.

  So Dax turned on his heel and left the room.

  A dark anger swept through Roa. He’d make sure she was taken care of? He would see what he could do for her?

  What kind of a man said these things?

  The kind of man who sleeps with his wife’s friend, gets her pregnant, then leaves her crying and alone.

  It made Roa want to go after him, corner him, and force him to fix this. Now. Not when they got to Firgaard.

  Roa clenched her fists, watching as Lirabel sank to the floor, her body shaking with sobs. The letter from Asha was all but forgotten as Roa listened to her friend weep.

  What if, Theo’s voice rang through her mind, in exchange for her position, Dax requires something . . . extra?

  Roa’s nails bit into her palms. She didn’t want to believe such a thing. The reason Lirabel was a ward in Roa’s house was because of the sanctions imposed by Dax’s father. Sanctions that impoverished Lirabel’s family and destroyed their farm. Sanctions that Dax still hadn’t lifted, despite all his promises.

  It didn’t make sense that Lirabel would willingly choose such a man.

  I should have protected you, she thought. I should have paid attention.

  Roa longed to go and comfort her friend. But if Lirabel wanted Roa to know all of this, she would have told her . . . wouldn’t she? Roa feared that revealing herself now would shame Lirabel and make the whole situation worse. She didn’t want to drive her friend even further away.

  Eventually, Lirabel fell silent. She pressed her hands to her eyes, then dried them with the hem of her riding shirt. After taking a deep shuddering breath, Lirabel got to her feet and left.

  Ten

  Roa couldn’t get out of that room fast enough.

  Her thunderous footsteps echoed through the empty hall. Her red-hot anger made the walls blur. She gripped Essie’s knife tight in one hand, needing to find Dax.

  She would make him fix this.

  Roa thought of that moment in the stables, when he’d brushed his thumb across her lip. How she would have let him kiss her—would have welcomed it—if they hadn’t been interrupted.

  It disgusted her now.

  There was a reason Dax was the enemy. How could she let herself forget it?

  Roa! Essie’s white body blurred as it flew past her, then turned back, cutting her off. Roa halted as her sister flapped her wings, silver eyes shining. Are you all right?

  “Am I all right?” Roa said aloud. “I think it’s Lirabel we need to worry about.”

  Essie flew in swooping circles around her.

  Even Theo heard the rumors of Dax and Lirabel. Roa watched the circling white bird. Theo, who wasn’t anywhere near Firgaard these last few months. She gritted her teeth at her own negligence. If I had just paid attention . . .

  No, said Essie. This is not your fault.

  Wasn’t it, though?

  If Roa had never married Dax, never helped him dethrone his father, Lirabel wouldn’t be in this position. In fact, Roa’s actions seemed to only bring unhappiness to the ones she loved—Theo, Jas, and now Lirabel.

  Maybe Theo was right. Roa was no different from Amina. Just like Amina, Roa thought marrying a king would bring peace to their people.

  Just like Amina, Roa hadn’t realized she was marrying a monster.

  Roa walked on.

  Essie flew after her.

  You’ve had a thousand other things to worry about.

  Roa stopped before a wide stained-glass window. Its bright reds and blues were lit up by the sunset beyond.

  Roa had given up everything for this king. The king responsible for Essie’s accident. The king who didn’t care that his father’s sanctions on her people were starving them. The king who’d slept with Lirabel, then discarded her like worthless refuse.

  The hum started deep in Roa’s belly. Like lightning, it buzzed and crackled and sparked.

  The hum was bright and alive within Essie, too, like a fire fusing them together.

  “I hate him,” Roa said bitterly.

  But even as she said it, tears pricked her eyes.

  Oh, Roa. Essie’s voice seemed suddenly fainter. I wish I could fix this.

  “I hate him for using her. . . .”

  The hum reverberated in Roa’s ears now. Rattled in her bones, making her temperature rise. Roa shook her head, clenching her teeth against the deafening roar of it.

  “I hate him for making me into a fool. . . .”

  Essie’s eyes shone more fiercely than usual as she circled Roa, carving through the air, swooping around and around her sister. Just for a moment, Roa thought she felt her sister’s soul flicker.

  “I hate him most of all for what he did to you.” Her fists were clenched. The air between them was white-hot and her next words came out like a sob. “I hate him for shattering us!”

  The hum exploded, searing them both. As it did, a resounding crash rang out as the windows in the hallway burst.

  The heat that had been rising between them vanished.

  A cold emptiness rushed in.

  Roa stared at the white bird before her. Those silver eyes stared back, but they seemed startled. Frightened. Confused.

  Essie?

  Her sister’s silence pierced her.

  Roa reached across their bond, only to lose it. She reached again, but her sister’s spirit was like water slipping through her fingers. The hum—so bright and strong moments before—was like the heartbeat of a wounded, dying creature. Still there, but ever so faint.

  It terrified her.


  She watched the white bird swoop out through the broken window and up into the pomegranate sky. Roa followed it to the window. The sun was gone, but its light glowed just above the desert’s horizon.

  “Essie!”

  But no answer came.

  Before

  The very first summer Dax came to stay in the scrublands, their mother made Roa and Essie take him everywhere. Essie wasn’t allowed to go to the cliffs unless Dax went, too. Roa wasn’t allowed to play gods and monsters unless it was Dax she played against.

  Roa, who hated cliff jumping, never went to the cliffs. And Essie, who hated board games, wandered off with Lirabel, leaving Roa stranded with the king’s son for entire afternoons.

  They knew what their mother was doing. She was interfering, and they didn’t appreciate it.

  So the sisters made a pact. They would not be friends with the disruptive visitor from Firgaard. They would shun him on principle.

  It was easy at first. The king’s son had never played gods and monsters before. He was a boring opponent and it annoyed Roa. Eventually, if she beat him enough times, he would stop wanting to play her.

  Or so she thought.

  But the more ruthless she was on the board, the more eager he was to learn. The more she beat him, the more he begged to play again.

  His unyielding enthusiasm made her soften, just a little. Sometimes, when he stared for long stretches of silence at the checkered stone board, thinking hard, she gave in. Helping him see things he couldn’t. Telling him how to predict her moves. Giving him the knowledge her father had once given her, when she first learned to play.

  He improved quickly after that, and strangely, it pleased her.

  Even more strangely, he seemed to enjoy pleasing her.

  When he said something that made Roa smile, he smiled twice as brightly. When he made her laugh, it was like he’d solved a puzzle he’d been working on for months. It lit him up from the inside.

  The more they played, the more her pact with Essie got harder to keep and soon she didn’t hate this annoying boy from Firgaard. In fact, she didn’t find him annoying at all.

  Traitor, whispered a voice inside her.

  One day, Dax asked Roa to come with him and Essie to the cliffs. Roa never went to the cliffs. She didn’t like watching her sister and their friends jump from the heights and into the water. It made her queasy, watching them fall and fall and fall.