The Caged Queen

by Kristen Ciccarelli

  She undid the clasp and swung the lid open. She put her hand inside the case, touching the velvet cloth on the bottom, then pulled it out. There was nothing but more glass underneath, and the wood of the pedestal beneath that.

  Maybe Torwin did intercept it, she thought.

  Or maybe Baron Silva was showing off his new possession to his guests. Perhaps it was being cleaned. Or sharpened. Or possibly it had been decided this room wasn’t safe enough. After all, Safire had just picked the lock.

  There were a multitude of possibilities. Roa needed to find out which it was.

  “We’ve been gone too long,” said Safire, looking to the door. “If this is what you came for, it isn’t here. We need to get back.”

  Knowing she was right, Roa shut the case.

  As the three of them returned to the stairs, the story of Skyweaver flooded her thoughts.

  Roa thought of the person who’d eluded death eight years ago. The person whose place her sister took. The person whose soul she needed to exchange for Essie’s.

  For the first time since she’d made her decision, Roa faltered.

  Could she really do such a thing—take his soul?

  She thought of him in the hall below, loud and drunk and flirting. Thought of him sitting in that council meeting, breaking every one of his treaty promises without hesitation. Thought of his seal in Sirin’s pocket.

  Yes, she told herself, fists tightening. I can. I can do it for my sister.

  They were almost to the dining hall when they nearly strode straight into Rebekah. Their hostess looked proud and elegant in the dimming light of day, her golden kaftan gleaming in the torchlight.

  Garnet and another burly draksor flanked her. They weren’t soldats, but from the way they stood with their bulging arms crossed, they seemed something akin to house guards.

  And at Rebekah’s side walked . . .

  “Theo?” Roa and Lirabel said in unison.

  Theo smiled sheepishly back at them. His dark brown hair was pulled back into its usual bun and he wore a silk tunic, in the Firgaardian style, that came just above the knee, with trousers underneath. Roa could see the delicate silver stitching from where she stood.

  “What are you wearing?” she asked, looking him up and down. She’d nearly mistook him for a draksor.

  Where had he gotten such a fine thing? And how in all the skies did he get invited to this dinner?

  “My queen,” Rebekah interrupted. “What a coincidence. Your friend and I were just speaking about you.” The silver sheath in her sash winked in the torchlight. “What are you doing out here in the hall?”

  Roa stared at the dagger, a sudden thought striking her.

  “We got lost,” Lirabel answered quickly for her. “Safire found us.”

  Rebekah’s dark brown eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

  “Safire, Lirabel—you’ll excuse us, won’t you? There are things I’d like to discuss with the queen.”

  “I wish I could, Bekah, but—”

  Garnet and the other draksor stepped forward, their blades half-drawn.

  “It won’t take long,” Rebekah said, smiling sweetly.

  Lirabel’s gaze met Roa’s as the commandant reached for her hilt.

  “No,” said Roa, touching Saf’s arm. She kept her eyes on the dagger at their hostess’s hip. “It’s fine. Go back to the dining hall.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” said Safire staring down the scarred guard.

  “I’m ordering you to.”

  Safire glanced at her, and for a moment Roa thought she would continue to refuse. But then her hand fell to her side and she bowed her head a little stiffly. “Of course, my queen.”

  Roa didn’t like the way Rebekah studied Safire and Lirabel, as if they were insects under glass in an observatory. She especially didn’t like the way Rebekah studied Essie. Like she was less of a bird and more of a . . . meal.

  “Go with them,” Roa told her sister, pushing her from her shoulder.

  Startled, Essie didn’t have time to dig her claws in. Before she fell, she spread her wings and swooped toward Lirabel.

  With Theo at her side, Roa glanced back once to see Essie, Lirabel, and Saf all watching her with worried eyes.

  Rebekah led them to a room full of birds.

  Ospreys, owls, sparrows, crows. And worst of all: a desert hawk. All of them unnaturally still. All of them watching Roa from the walls. Their eyes lifeless. Their souls gone.

  Roa and Theo exchanged glances.

  The room smelled like death and fear.

  Thank the stars Essie isn’t here.

  Rebekah sat in an armchair that was too big for her, staring at Roa from across the desk. “As I said, my father loves birds. This is his second favorite room.”

  Roa swallowed. What did his first favorite look like?

  “Why are we here?” she asked.

  Rebekah leaned back, gripping the arms of her father’s chair, studying the new queen.

  “Theo came seeking my help,” she said. “He’s very worried about you.”

  Roa looked to Theo, who sat in the chair beside her. What?

  “He says you didn’t realize what you were doing,” Rebekah continued. “He says Dax convinced you to march an army to his side, fight his war, break off your betrothal . . . all in the hope of protecting your people.”

  Roa lifted her chin. That wasn’t how it happened. Dax asked for her help, and in exchange, Roa asked for a marriage. She knew exactly what she was doing.

  She was not the victim here.

  “You realized too late he wasn’t the man you thought he was.”

  Roa leaned back against her chair. This, at least, was true.

  “And,” Rebekah continued, “now you want to undo the choices you’ve made.”

  Roa looked to Theo, wanting clarification.

  Theo looked back at her.

  And the pieces clicked together.

  Why he was dressed like a wealthy draksor. Why he’d been personally invited to a dinner party by Rebekah—a girl who barely tolerated scrublanders.

  This was the contact he’d mentioned to Roa last night.

  Roa stared at her friend. “Tell me you didn’t,” she whispered.

  “Theo told me everything. I know all about your plot against the king.”

  Roa’s mouth went dry. She looked away from Theo to Rebekah, lying through her teeth. Lying with everything in her. “There is no plot.”

  “Then why did you sneak out of the palace last night to meet him?” Her lips curled into a smile.

  Roa gripped the arms of her chair. Theo couldn’t possibly have told Rebekah that. It put them in so much danger.

  “You were plotting with the boy you love to remove your husband from his throne.”

  It felt like her heart had stopped beating.

  What have you done? she thought, staring at Theo.

  He reached to touch her.

  Roa flinched away.

  “Her father is the most influential man in Firgaard,” he said. “She can help us, Roa. She’s offered to give us everything we want.”

  “Help us?” Roa’s heart started to beat again—wildly now. “Her?”

  Roa started to rise. She couldn’t sit here and listen to this. She wanted out of this room.

  Theo grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. She looked to his hand, gripping her hard, keeping her down. His golden eyes pleaded. “Roa, please. Just listen.”

  Roa turned to face Rebekah, her body coiled. The stuffed hawk peered down from the walls, its lifeless eyes staring into Roa. Making her hair stand on end.

  “If you’re going to do this, you’ll need protection,” said Rebekah. “My father and I have powerful friends in the court, on the council, and in the army. All I have to do is say the word, and every one of them will support you.”

  “The army is loyal to Safire,” said Roa.

  Rebekah smiled. “Not as loyal as she thinks.”

  Roa thought of Sirin, then. Of how easily
her guard had nearly disposed of her.

  “I can give you what you want most,” said Rebekah.

  Roa scowled. “And what’s that?”

  “This.” Rebekah reached for the dagger in her sash. Her slender hands slid the weapon from its sheath and held it aloft. The blade glowed faintly. Like silver-white moonlight. Roa could feel the strange hum of it from where she sat across the desk.

  “I believe your people call it the . . . Skyweaver’s knife?”

  Roa swallowed, staring as Rebekah sheathed the blade that could save Essie, tucking it back into her sash.

  Exactly how much had Theo told her?

  “You and I are more alike than you think, Roa. We see further than those around us. We understand what needs to be done—that sometimes sacrifices must be made in the pursuit of a greater good.”

  Roa’s whole being cried out against this. She didn’t want to be anything like this cold and calculating creature.

  “Dax is a fickle, incompetent king. He betrayed me, too. And he’s as much a danger to Firgaard as he is useless to the plight of your people. I may not like the idea of a scrublander sitting on the throne, but if I must choose, I prefer you to him.”

  Me as a puppet queen, Roa knew.

  “If you want to remove him, you need more than a few scrublanders with pointy sticks to do it.” Rebekah laughed.

  Roa bristled. If she needed any reason not to enter into a bargain with Rebekah, it was this. Rebekah would never see Roa or her people as equals.

  “I can help you. I want to help you. All I ask in return for the knife is that you involve me in the planning.”

  Why? thought Roa, glancing at the dagger, then up to Rebekah’s face. What did Dax do to make you hate him this much?

  She could still deny any plot against Dax. It was Theo’s word against hers. But the moment Roa let this girl in, Rebekah would have what she needed to accuse the queen of treason.

  If she accepted Rebekah’s terms, if she let her in on their plans, Roa would be completely at her mercy.

  “I can’t involve you in a plot I’m not a part of any more than I can give you information I don’t have,” said Roa. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband will be wondering where I am.”

  Roa knew where the Skyweaver’s knife was now. She would find another way to obtain it.

  She moved to leave. Rebekah’s guards stepped in front of the door, blocking her way.

  “Let her pass,” said Rebekah. “She’s heard our offer. We’ll give her a chance to consider it.”

  I will never consider it, she thought.

  As soon as they stepped aside, Roa pressed her palms to the door. She was pushing it open when something caught her eye.

  Standing in the corner of the room was a bow and quiver full of arrows. They’d been hidden from her view as she sat facing Rebekah, but now she saw them plainly: the bow was fashioned out of blackwood, the arrows fletched with glossy crow feathers.

  A little over two months ago, in the ruined House of Shade, she and Lirabel had crouched over a map while Torwin taught Dax how to shoot. The freckle-faced skral used a blackwood bow and arrows tipped with crow feathers to teach him. Roa remembered, because Lirabel couldn’t stop staring at them. She told Roa it was the most beautiful bow she’d ever seen.

  This bow, these arrows . . .

  No, thought Roa.

  But who else could they belong to?

  Nineteen

  Fear coiled in Roa’s belly as she stepped back into the dining hall.

  Night had fallen and the dining hall buzzed with laughter and conversation. Along the walls, brass sconces now held burning flames, and the masks of the dinner guests sparkled and shone, making Roa dizzy.

  She scanned the crowd. She saw Dax first, exactly where she left him. A group of young women surrounded him. They gazed up at their king through long eyelashes, flashing him smiles, laughing loudly at his jokes.

  Dax smiled and laughed back. But as he went to gulp down the rest of his wine, his gaze met Roa’s over the lip of his goblet. His smile faded at the sight of her.

  Roa surged toward him, pushing through the masked guests—who were all half-drunk now. Dax lowered his goblet and watched her for a moment, then set it down and excused himself. His guards followed as he made his way toward her.

  When they met in the middle of the room, his gaze flickered over her.

  “What’s wrong?” He lifted a hand, as if to touch her. “Are you all right?”

  Roa shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s not me. It’s—”

  “You’re not fine.” This time, he reached for both her hands. “Roa, you’re trembling.”

  He held them up to show her. They shook like leaves. Roa pulled free.

  “I think something terrible has happened,” she said.

  A bell chimed from across the room, breaking their gaze. The chatter dimmed to silence. Together, Dax and Roa looked where everyone else was looking: to a tall, thin man standing in the center of the room. He wore crimson and his fingers were littered with rings.

  “Baron Silva,” Dax said for her benefit.

  At the man’s side stood Rebekah.

  “Honored guests!” Silva’s face beamed as he looked out over his dinner party. “The meal is about to be served. But before you take your seats, my daughter has an announcement to make.”

  He nodded at Rebekah, who smiled prettily back at him.

  Suddenly Safire, Lirabel, and Jas were there at Roa’s side. Essie hopped from Lirabel’s shoulder to Roa’s, moving in close, sensing her distress.

  “Where were you?” Lirabel asked at the same time Safire said, “What happened?”

  But Rebekah’s voice cut them off, echoing through the dining hall as she looped her arm through Silva’s.

  “Several days ago, my father returned from a hunt with some fascinating quarry. He would like to present it now as a gift to the new wife of his good friend King Dax.”

  Rebekah nodded to Garnet, who disappeared through a set of doors and returned not with a stuffed and mounted animal, but a person. A person whose hands were tied behind his back and whose head was hooded.

  Garnet pulled off the tan hood to reveal a young man with freckled skin and cool gray eyes.

  A chill like ice swept through Roa.

  Dax’s hands balled so hard into fists that his knuckles paled. In a heartbeat all trace of the feckless king was gone, replaced by something much more dangerous.

  Recognizing the young man across the room, Essie shrieked with rage, her wings spreading, her eyes flashing. Hearing it, Torwin looked up, his eyes alighting on his friends.

  “Well, my queen?” Rebekah’s voice chimed like glass as she stared down Roa from across the room. “My father caught for you a fugitive and a traitor to the throne. Aren’t you going to come and thank him?”

  Dax’s fingers curled, as if itching to coil around Rebekah’s throat. He started to move.

  Lirabel grabbed him, her fingers sinking into his arm. “Don’t let her bait you,” she murmured, holding him back. “Recklessness won’t get him out of this.”

  No, thought Roa. It won’t.

  And if she had told someone about the letter from Asha, this might have been prevented.

  “I’ll deal with this,” she said.

  Dax leveled a look at her. But Roa was already cutting across the room. Essie’s claws dug hard into her shoulder, her hawk eyes glaring at Rebekah.

  Halfway there, Torwin’s voice rang out.

  “Do you know who I belong to?” His gray eyes glinted like firelight on a sword.

  A hush fell over the room. Roa paused, as Rebekah turned to him, her thin, black brows drawn into a vicious V.

  “Do you know what she does to her enemies?”

  For a moment, Roa caught a glimpse of the boy who’d fought hard for Asha’s heart. A boy made of sharpened steel. A boy who’d survived monsters and tyrants.

  A boy with no sense of self-preservation.

  “Have you f
orgotten that she was Iskari? The death bringer?” The firelight caught in his hair, making it flame like the setting sun. “She’s sister to a king. Guardian of a dragon so fierce, he’ll incinerate an entire city.” He stared down Rebekah like she was beneath him. Like he’d stared down far more terrifying things in his life. “To me, she is beloved.” His voice softened. “And the ones who keep me from her come to unfortunate ends.”

  What are you doing? thought Roa. He’d just threatened the most cruel and cunning person in the room. The person who could most easily hurt him.

  Rebekah came to stand before her father’s trophy, her cold eyes looking him up and down. “Perfect. The sooner she comes for you, the sooner I can carry out the sentence our king should have executed weeks ago.”

  Everyone in the room knew what that sentence was.

  Death.

  It was clear on Rebekah’s face that she didn’t want to punish Asha because she believed in justice. No. She wanted to punish Asha because it would hurt Dax.

  Roa stared at the regal girl before her, swathed in gold, her hair done up in braids. How had she become this? Someone who reveled in the pain of others?

  “I accept your generous gift,” said Roa, trying to draw Rebekah’s venomous gaze away from Torwin. “We’ll transport him to—”

  “No,” said Rebekah, her voice clipped. “My father and I will hold on to him, for safekeeping.” She looked across the room to Dax. “Tell me, my king: what is the punishment for aiding a criminal guilty of regicide?”

  Dax glared back at her, silent as a stone.

  “We’ll put it to the council then. Tomorrow.”

  Roa’s heart sank. This was a game Rebekah was playing. And there was one last move—a move only Roa could make.

  “Or perhaps,” said Roa, “you and I can discuss more favorable terms?”

  That smile returned—sharper and colder than ever. Like a knife blade.

  “That would be agreeable,” said Rebekah, who looked to Essie, glaring back at her from Roa’s fist.

  Essie spread her wings in a show of fearless anger. But Roa felt as if invisible bars were already clanging shut around them. She knew what the terms would be. Before she turned away, Roa looked to Garnet, who held the rope binding Torwin’s hands.

  “Harm him,” she said so only Garnet and his captive could hear, “and you’ll be the second guard I leave in an alley with his throat slit open.”