The Caged Queen

by Kristen Ciccarelli

“What have you done?” Roa snarled, wanting to lunge at her. Wanting to curl her fingers around that elegant throat and squeeze.

  Behind her, Theo shut the box but didn’t put it down.

  Rebekah clasped her hands in front of her. “I told you: I can’t afford to have you playing both sides.”

  Roa glared at her. “What are you talking about?”

  Rebekah calmly made her way toward a small, ornate table set with a glass decanter and three silver cups. “Yesterday my scouts brought me confusing news.” Lifting the decanter, she began to pour. “There are rumors going around the palace. They say the king is more in love than he lets on. They say he’s finally winning over his queen.” Rebekah stopped pouring and looked up, holding Roa’s gaze. “They say the two of you are closer than you seem.”

  Roa stared, lips parting. “And you believed these . . . rumors?” Her fingers curled into her palms. “That’s why you took my sister’s wing?”

  “To remind you of the stakes, yes.”

  Roa suddenly remembered the night Dax cornered her in the stable, accusing her of making a deal with Rebekah. Remembered the trace of fear she heard in his voice.

  Now she knew the reason for it.

  Roa tried to breathe as she watched Rebekah steadily pour the rich, dark wine into the last silver cup. She poured it so smoothly, so calmly. As if she hadn’t just done the cruelest thing imaginable to Essie.

  “You’re a monster.”

  “Come, now. Once you make the exchange, the wing won’t matter. None of this will matter. You’ll have your sister restored to her true form.”

  Rebekah lifted one of the cups and held it out to Roa.

  Roa wanted to take the wine and throw it in her face. Instead, she refused it with a solemn shake of her head.

  “Besides,” Rebekah said as she handed the wine to Garnet, “you didn’t report last night. So you might say I preemptively came through on my promise.” She turned to face Roa, her eyes dark. “Where were you?”

  Roa’s fists shook. “The palace gates were locked. I had no way to reach you. I was trying to—”

  “Locked?” Rebekah arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  Roa explained about the attack, the locking of the palace gates, and how Safire wanted to shut the city gates, too, and cancel the Relinquishing, but Dax prevented it. He’d made the decision this morning.

  As she explained, her gaze scanned the room, searching for any sign of her sister.

  “None of that matters,” Rebekah said, waving it away. “The plan is to go in through the passage. We can bring a small group inside, take control of the palace, then open the gates for the rest of our men.”

  “There’s just one problem,” said Roa. “The passage is locked.”

  The attention of both Theo and Rebekah snapped to her.

  “What?”

  Roa looked away from them, her fists still clenched, thinking of that fragile white wing. She’d allied herself to a monster, and there was nothing she could do about it. So long as Essie was a prisoner, she had to keep playing this game. “But I know where the key is,” she whispered, thinking of Dax, shirtless and gleaming with sweat as they sparred in his bedroom two nights past. Of the key hanging around his throat.

  It hurt to think of what she must do. But Roa couldn’t afford to be conflicted. Not after what Rebekah had done to Essie. She knew now just how unpredictable Rebekah was. Next time, she would do something far worse.

  Rebekah wanted to know everything. So Roa told her about the passage she found connecting her and the king’s rooms and how it led out into the city.

  “Which part of the city?”

  “Near the blacksmith’s forge in the new quarter.”

  “We need that key.”

  But Roa needed to know her sister was still alive. “Show me Essie first.”

  Rebekah looked to her house guards. “Garnet? Fetch the queen her bird.”

  Garnet left and returned with a swinging iron cage, setting it down on the desk before Roa. She leaned in, gripping the bars, staring at the white hawk trembling at the bottom.

  Essie . . .

  The left side of her body was bandaged and she kept stretching her wing, as if forgetting she only had one, then falling off balance. Hurting herself more.

  “My father cauterized the wound to stop her from bleeding to death.”

  How kind, thought Roa bitterly.

  Those silver eyes moved from Roa to Theo to Rebekah. As if she no longer recognized her sister among the room full of threats.

  “Essie?” Roa suddenly wished she could go back. Wished she’d never come to Firgaard or agreed to help Dax. Wished she’d stayed in the scrublands.

  Essie trembled harder. But this time, that silver gaze turned on Roa and stayed there.

  I’m going to get you out of there, she thought. I’m going to set you free.

  Her sister’s mind remained cold and dark.

  “I’m sorry it’s come to this, Roa. But you’re not the only one risking everything. I won’t let you compromise the rest of us. If you want my help saving your sister, you must do exactly as you’re told. Do you understand?”

  Roa understood perfectly. She understood that the scales had tipped. So long as Rebekah had Essie, she could make Roa do whatever she wished.

  “You need to get that key tonight.”

  Roa glanced up. Tonight? “The Relinquishing doesn’t start until tomorrow.”

  “We can’t risk you failing again,” said Rebekah. “Get the key and deliver it to me by midnight.”

  She didn’t say what would happen if Roa didn’t comply.

  The answer was sitting inside a brass box.

  Roa returned to the palace feeling numb. The crowds packing the streets made it nearly impossible to pass back through the city, so Roa and her guards took the long way around, using streets farther from the center and therefore less crowded.

  The whole excursion took most of the day, and now it was nearly sunset again. The halls of the royal quarters were quieter than usual, with hardly a soldat in sight. She walked, flanked by her guards, thinking of the key hanging around Dax’s neck. Thinking of the things he’d admitted last night. Of how wrong she’d been about him.

  She thought of stealing that key and giving it to his enemy.

  What am I becoming?

  She shook the question away, thinking instead of Essie, wingless and cowering in a cage. What was this one small betrayal in light of what she must do in the end? Before the Relinquishing was over, Roa would be guilty of the worst crime: killing the king.

  When she opened the doors to her rooms, Roa halted at the threshold.

  It smelled like flowers here. Like home.

  Jacarandas, she thought, breathing in the sweet scent.

  Jacarandas everywhere.

  They were scattered all across the floor like a pale purple carpet, the smell of them filling the room. Roa took a step inside, letting the doors swing shut behind her.

  Someone should let him know you prefer jacarandas, Dax had told her, nights ago now.

  She should have hardened herself against the sight of them. But everything hard in her had broken at the sight of Essie’s wing.

  Roa picked up one of the flowers. She lifted its soft petals to her face and breathed in the soothing scent. Sinking to the floor, she reached for more, gathering them into the linen of her dress.

  Her pulse beat loud and hot in her veins as she rose, walking through the spilled jacarandas, trying not to crush their petals, and stepped out onto the balcony.

  The sky was a smear of orange and pink as she looked across to the king’s quarters, where Dax sat on the flat marble surface of his balcony’s semicircular balustrade, his shoulders pressed against the wall, facing her rooms. As Roa’s gaze met his, he raised the goblet in his hand in greeting.

  But he didn’t smile. And his brow was furrowed. She’d left the palace earlier without any explanation for last night. He thought she’d gone to Theo. He�
��d been worrying about both things there on that balcony, she could tell.

  The king and queen watched each other for a stretched-out moment as the sun sank lower in the sky. Like two opponents across a gods and monsters board, both awaiting the other’s move.

  Dax went first. Tipping back his goblet, he drank deeply before pushing himself down from the marble ledge. Even from this far away, Roa could see the key hanging around his neck. Holding her gaze, he fisted his hand over his heart in a scrublander salute, then disappeared into the orange glow of his rooms.

  Roa took a deep breath.

  She knew what she had to do. Knew that if she didn’t do it, there would be a second wing in a second copper box—or worse. Knew that before this night was over, her heart was going to be broken no matter what choice she made.

  It was just a question of what heartbreak she could live with.

  Thirty-One

  Roa didn’t bring a lamp with her. She knew the way to Dax’s room by heart now. But this time, as she walked through the dark passage, her fingers trembled as they trailed along the walls. Her stomach felt full of knots.

  She stood before the hidden door, pressed the latch, and pushed it open.

  The dragon king was alone, stretched out on his bed. His elbows were crooked and his hands were cupped behind his head. His mouth curved down and his forehead pinched into a delicate frown as he stared up at the ceiling.

  At her presence, Dax didn’t sit up. Merely turned to look.

  His gaze swept over her. She wore a kaftan this evening. He himself had given her this one. It was dark purple—the color of bruised storm clouds—and the silk was so sheer as to be almost translucent. It matched the jacaranda tucked behind her ear.

  The way he was looking at her now was all tenderness. His face was wide open, letting her read him. Letting her know everything he was thinking and hoping and wanting.

  “I assumed we were done with lessons,” he said, sitting up, his hands gripping the wooden bed frame beneath him.

  “I’m not here for lessons,” she said.

  Dax’s feet were bare. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows again and the laces at his collar were loose. As if he found his clothes confining.

  “Then what are you here for?”

  Roa looked to his throat. As her gaze fell upon the shape of the key hanging there, she had a strange and sudden urge to tell him everything.

  That, of course, was a terrible idea. It was the fastest way to seal Essie’s fate—not to mention her own.

  The cost of treason was death, and Roa was certainly committing treason.

  But the cost of not going through with the plan was Essie.

  When she didn’t answer his question, he asked another one. “How is our friend Theo?” He looked down at the floor as he said it, avoiding her gaze. But she knew what he thought. She’d given him every reason to think it.

  “Dax,” she whispered. “I don’t want Theo.”

  When his face tilted up again, she saw the question in his eyes: Then what do you want?

  Deep below the surface, something thrummed within her. Something she hadn’t let herself desire before. Because he was the enemy. Because he preferred Lirabel. Because Roa needed to save her sister.

  Except . . . only one of those things was true now.

  She hugged herself, suddenly afraid of her own conflicted heart.

  Gathering up her courage, Roa moved toward the bed.

  “I’m not interested in being one of many,” she said as she slowly stepped between his legs, which were bent at the knees. Dax’s hands tightened around the edge of the wooden bed frame. As if he didn’t trust himself to let go.

  “Say you’re mine,” she whispered, staring down at him. “Or I won’t have you.”

  He tilted his head back, raising his eyes to hers. “Who else’s would I be?”

  She thought of his reputation. Of all the girls he gave his smile to and took into his bed.

  “You’re the one who taught me to never reveal myself.” He let go of the bed frame, his gaze tracing her. “You taught me that once my enemy knows my weakness, he knows how to beat me.” His hands slid to her hips, bringing her closer. “So I hid my true weakness behind rumors and flirtations and decoys. Because if my enemies knew just how much she meant to me, they would take her from me.”

  Roa frowned, her lips parting as she suddenly saw the game from his side of the board. Saw it clearly.

  With his face turned up to hers, Dax said: “The only girl I’ve ever wanted is the one sleeping across the garden.”

  Me? she thought. I’m his weakness?

  The realization came with a rush of tender feelings.

  Roa pressed him back against the bed. Dax let her. His breath hitched as she lowered herself over him, planting her hands on either side of his head, sinking down onto his hips.

  Roa tried to separate out her purpose from her desire, but they were all snarled up together.

  Knotting her fingers in his curls, she kissed him. He made a soft sound and reached for her, crushing her to him. He rolled her onto her back, then lowered himself down until their bodies aligned.

  “Why are you really here?” he whispered, his eyes a storm of emotion.

  She traced his cheeks—which were rough again. “Because I want to be.”

  It was both the truth and a lie.

  He pulled off his shirt and threw it aside. The key hung free now, dangling between them. Roa reached up to touch it, tracing the knotted dragons, until Dax lifted the cord over his head and dropped it on the floor.

  His fingers slipped hooks out of eyes. Her breath sped up as his hands skimmed down her stomach and hips, then slid beneath the silk of her kaftan, setting her nerves on fire. When his palms glided up her bare thighs, though, Roa tensed and sucked in a breath.

  Dax went very still, watching her.

  “You’re afraid,” he realized, pushing himself up onto his hands. Cold air rushed between them as he stared down at her.

  “It’s just that . . . I know what to expect.” Her cheeks burned. “I know there will be pain.”

  His face softened, then. “Oh, Roa, no. It doesn’t have to hurt.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I told you I would never hurt you.”

  She thought of the night she gave herself to Theo.

  “You might not know,” she whispered.

  He frowned hard, his gaze flickering over her. “Of course I will.”

  She should have stopped him then. Should have told him everything.

  But if she did, she would never save her sister. She needed to play this game through to the end, or Essie wouldn’t just be punished, she’d be lost forever. And despite the war waging in Roa’s heart, she loved her sister more than anything or anyone.

  It should have been Dax who died that night eight years ago, not Essie.

  Roa needed to make it right.

  She needed her sister back.

  But deeper than all of these things was a much simpler truth: now that it was far too late, now that it was entirely out of reach, Roa wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to be loved by the king.

  And so she was.

  Afterward, Roa listened to the sound of his breathing, trying not to memorize it. Trying not to need the beat of his heart against her spine or the weight of his arm curled securely around her, even in sleep.

  As she listened to him breathe, she tried to push this bright new wanting back down from where it had come.

  Roa shut her eyes tight, trying to remember her purpose. Trying to sharpen it inside her like a knife.

  Essie.

  The key.

  Midnight.

  Untucking herself from Dax, she pushed herself to the edge of the bed. Casting her gaze over the floor, she found his shirt. And then the key.

  Her eyes burned as she picked it up and slipped its cord over her head.

  Outside in the night sky, the moon had almost reached its zenith.

  Roa quickly dressed. But just befo
re stepping into the passage, she looked back to the bed, where Dax slept, oblivious to her treachery. Her gaze traced the gentle curls of his hair, the ears that stood out a little too far from his head, the solid line of his shoulders.

  She turned away from the sight, then took the passage. When she finally came to the locked iron gate, she lifted the cord over her head. Her hand trembled as it slid the key in. Her stomach twisted as she turned it.

  There was sharp click—like the sound of Roa’s heart breaking—and the gate swung open.

  She should have felt triumphant.

  Instead, she wept.

  Thirty-Two

  Roa stepped out into the darkened alley and swung the gate closed. In the distance, Roa heard the noise of Firgaard. The music and shouting of its night market. With so many travelers visiting the capital for the Relinquishing, most of Firgaard was bursting at the seams. But this stretch of road was barren. Silent.

  She couldn’t get the taste of Dax out of her mouth. Couldn’t banish the memory of him lying next to her in the bed, his heart hammering against hers, their legs tangled up together.

  Who would she be when this was all over?

  A monster, realized Roa.

  But to stop now was to lose Essie forever.

  Suddenly, silhouettes emerged from the shadows. Rebekah’s men. By Roa’s loose count, there were at least four dozen. Possibly more hidden in the shadows.

  Why were there so many? The plan was to infiltrate the palace during the Relinquishing. Tomorrow, not tonight.

  The face of the one who led them was hooded, but Roa recognized the height of her. The line of her shoulders. Her proud gait.

  Rebekah stopped before the queen and held out her hand, palm up. “Give me the key.”

  Roa peered over Rebekah’s shoulder. “Where’s Theo?”

  “Your friend proved to be . . . disloyal.”

  Roa’s mouth went dry as cotton. “What?”

  “My men are searching for him now,” Rebekah said. “There’s been a change of plan. Give me the key, Roa.”

  Roa touched the key at her throat but didn’t hand it over. “Give me Essie first.”

  “How do I know there aren’t a legion of soldats waiting for us the moment we step inside?”