by K. M. Shea
Alexsei straightened at the sight of her, but upon observing her for a few moments more, he narrowed his eyes.
Odette’s eyes were unusually wide, and her posture was hunched—as if she were trying to make herself a smaller target.
“Odette!” Yakov shouted. He abandoned his dance partner—with a wink to serve as an apology—and pushed his way through the dancers, making his way to the smuggler queen. “You came! Thank you! Please—dance with me.”
Odette leaned away from him, and her eyes went from wide with fright to almost popping out of her face with panic. She stammered—Alexsei couldn’t hear what she said over the music, but the man in the set of armor who escorted her didn’t fall for it, for he pushed Odette straight into Yakov.
Odette bumped into Yakov and leaped backwards—as if it burned her to touch him. Yakov ignored her reaction and captured her by her wrist. Then he pulled her into the dance. As they whirled past him, Alexsei caught a snatch of their conversation.
“Your Imperial Highness, I don’t believe I am who you think I am.”
Yakov smiled broadly. “Nonsense. I know exactly who you are: fair Odette—swan by day and beautiful maiden by night.”
Odette caught sight of Alexsei and mouthed something at him as Yakov pulled her along, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. There is something different about her.
“Alexsei.” Empress Sonya joined him and Benno on the sideline.
“Mother.” Alexsei smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Benno murmured and curtsied.
Empress Sonya frowned. “Never mind that. Lexsei, why are you letting Yakov drag your Odette around? If you stay passive like this, she’s never going to be yours.”
“That is precisely what I was telling him,” Benno said. She and the empress shared a look of mutual frustration as Alexsei watched Odette and Yakov with a thoughtful expression. What is it that seems off? Odette still had her beautiful, frosted hair, and her slightly crooked nose—though her roughish smile hadn’t yet shown itself.
“It won’t change anything,” he said.
“It might not,” Empress Sonya admitted. “But if you don’t openly express an interest in her, why would she ever dream of loving you? She is a smuggler, darling. I imagine she thinks she would be more likely to end up in jail thanks to her unusual career choice than wind up your wife. Is it your father?”
“Did Emperor Yevgeniy say something?” Benno asked.
Empress Sonya swatted her hand through the air. “He was grumbling about Odette belonging to a smuggling ring all day long. I’ll be forthright and admit it concerned me at first. She’s managed to keep a tight enough rein on her band that even our intelligence network wasn’t able to secure a full client list. However, after hearing of everything she has done pertaining to Rothbart, I don’t believe she’s the criminal mastermind dear Yevgeniy fears. Though if you’re serious about her, Lexsei, she’ll have to stop smuggling.”
“Ah, yes.” Benno returned her attention to Alexsei. “With that in mind, surely you must see why Odette would never show any sign of inclination for you. If this were any country other than Kozlovka, it would be unlikely that the two of you would ever have met.”
He ignored the awful attempt at romantic inspiration and kept his eyes on Odette. She looks the same, but her posture is all wrong.
“Ah, that’s not true,” Empress Sonya said. “The Arcainian Crown Prince married a miller’s daughter.”
“Did he?” Benno asked.
“Yes. She’s a beautiful girl, which might have had something to do with it.”
Alexsei watched Odette step on Yakov’s foot and apologize profusely. She lacks her usual confidence and cavalier attitude. The realization struck him like a thunderbolt. This is not my Odette. “I don’t think it matters tonight,” he said.
“Of course it matters,” Empress Sonya snapped. “I would like at least one decent daughter-in-law, and Yakov might very well choose a regular goose. As Benno is unwilling to saddle herself with either of you, the least you could do is marry someone sensible with a decent sense of humor. Thus far, Odette is the only candidate you’ve ever mooned over who meets these requirements!”
“Really, Odette is the only girl he’s ever mooned over, ever,” Benno said.
“This is true,” Empress Sonya said.
“I’m not talking about that,” he said. “I meant it doesn’t matter if I intervene with Yakov tonight, because that is not Odette.”
Empress Sonya narrowed her eyes at the imposter. “Then who is she?”
The Odette look-alike glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of the man who had escorted her. She turned ashen, then she swung her gaze to Alexsei and discreetly shook her head.
“Odile,” Benno and Alexsei said together.
“Who?” Empress Sonya asked.
“The daughter of the sorcerer Rothbart,” Benno said.
“I imagine she is not here under her own will,” Alexsei said. “It might be a scheme from her father.”
Empress Sonya’s face smoothed, and she once again was the serene Empress of Kozlovka. “I’ll notify the guards. Don’t cause an uproar.” She fussed with the collar of Alexsei’s silk shirt, and then moved on, drawing closer to the guard captain stationed at the corner of the room.
“What do you think Rothbart is up to?” Benno asked.
Alexsei wore a pleasant expression to cloak his unease. “I don’t know, but I imagine it isn’t good.”
Odette leaped from the wall and landed on the hard, unforgiving cobblestone garden path with a splat and a curse. “Breaking and entering is much easier when done with a team,” she muttered. She brushed off her shirt and picked herself up, sticking to the shadows as she edged her way around the garden.
Surprise is key. If I were to ask a servant to show me into the ball, Rothbart might do something drastic. But if I can tip off Alexsei in secret, they stand a chance of catching him off guard.
Odette crept around the perimeter of the castle, darting from bush to bush as she tried to find the ballroom. Eventually she heard the faint sound of music and laughter and followed her ears to the right area.
She pressed herself against the wall and peered in a window. Rothbart had, as she expected, beaten her to the ball—Odile stuck out like a white swan among a flock of peacocks as Yakov dragged her across the dance floor. To Odile’s credit, she was doing nothing to pretend she was Odette. She stumbled, stammered, and looked as confident as a mouse.
Poor thing—she needs to be more obvious if she’s hoping Yakov will pick up on the difference. You could drop a tree on Yakov, and he wouldn’t notice.
Odette shifted so she could see farther into the room and was delighted to spot Alexsei standing alone—his arms folded across his chest and his back to a window. His eyes were fastened on Yakov and Odile.
Odette picked her way around to his window—pausing to hide behind a bush when a squad of soldiers marched past—and tapped on the glass.
Alexsei turned, and Odette held her finger to her lips. The prince nodded and began weaving his way through the room.
Satisfied he was coming to see her—hopefully he wasn’t fooled and wouldn’t send guards after her—Odette peeked in once more. She scowled when she saw Rothbart. He was wearing a helm as his disguise, but she would have recognized his feather-patterned armor anywhere.
Footsteps drew close, and Odette turned to see Alexsei hurrying towards her.
“That’s not me.” She pointed to poor Odile—whom Yakov was still swinging around. “That’s—”
“Odile, I know,” Alexsei said.
Odette tipped her head. “You could tell it was her?”
“I could tell it wasn’t you. It didn’t take long to go through the possibilities of who it could be once I knew that.”
A smile threatened to crack across her lips, but Odette shoved it—and the peculiar warmth Alexsei’s observation brought—away. I have more
important concerns. “Rothbart is planning to kill Yakov—and your whole family. He has created four wyverns, but he’s afraid your family will march against him and thwart his plan to release them, so he decided to take you out first.”
“How do you know this?” he asked.
“He told me before he called up a chimera and a sea serpent to attack our camp—he meant to kill us, but he left before the creatures attacked us and underestimated the skill of my people.”
“Or he underestimated your skill as a leader,” Alexsei said.
Odette shook her head. “No, it is I who has underestimated him. This whole time he’s known of my friendship with Odile, the ways I try to appease him, and the many times I’ve moved to foil his plans.” She combed a hand through her snarled hair. “Alexsei, he’s worse than I thought. Whatever few scruples he had are gone. He’s bent on destruction now, and he doesn’t care who or what he ruins.”
Alexsei nodded. “I thought something must have happened for him to infiltrate our ball. Mother has been rounding up the guards—we’ll catch him and imprison him until Angelique returns.”
“Just keep Yakov away from him. I believe he is Rothbart’s main target.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Rothbart has this asinine idea that I love him.” Odette snorted to show her opinion of the thought. She expected Alexsei to share in the amusement, but to her surprise, he leaned back.
“Are you disappointed?” he asked.
“That Rothbart managed to figure out almost every one of my moves but has so mistaken my feelings for Yakov? A little. It’s almost offensive.” She started to relax, secure in the knowledge that she had delivered her news and the royal family had already acted upon it.
Alexsei shook his head. “No, are you disappointed that Yakov hasn’t realized Odile isn’t you?”
Odette frowned. “No. Why would I be?”
Alexsei didn’t answer, but his smile was telling enough. That little—he still wonders if I’m going to fall over my feet like every other female.
Odette rolled her eyes. “Alexsei. Every person who has seen us together—with the exception of your oblivious brother and the emotionally backward Rothbart—knows that I prefer you.”
Alexsei’s small smile changed to a broad grin of delight. “Really?”
“Yes.” Odette scoffed and cleared her throat, looking away when her cheeks threatened to turn pink. He’s not an option, she reminded herself. I am a low-born criminal. He’s a prince.
She was thankful when a soldier rounded the corner and saluted. “Your Highness. Their Imperial Majesties are ready.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in shortly,” Alexsei said.
“You’re going to attack him?” she asked.
He nodded. “Would you like to watch?”
Odette drew a dagger from her belt. “Yes.”
Alexsei gallantly offered his arm. “Shall we?”
Odette took his arm with her free hand. Sometimes I wish he weren’t so kind.
Alexsei led her to a side door that opened into a small, darkened salon. They left it for the hallway and slipped in a side entrance of the ballroom, hoping to avoid notice.
Unfortunately, Yakov—as he seemed predisposed to have the worst timing ever—noticed their entrance.
Surprised, he drew back from Odile and declared in a voice loud enough to bring a halt to the festivities. “I say—you aren’t Odette!”
Odile—still resembling a dolled-up Odette—sighed in aggravation and looked ready to cry. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
Rothbart clapped mockingly. “Well done, Odette. I should have known two monsters weren’t enough to kill you.” He left his post by the wall and moved to stand in the center of the dance floor. Party attendees fled his presence like startled sheep, leaving a wide space around him. He snapped his fingers, and the illusion left Odile, returning her to her usual dark-haired beauty. Then he shed his helm. “And now all the pieces are here. My, oh my, whom to destroy first?”
Yakov unsheathed his sword and took a step towards Rothbart. “You will harm no one.”
Odette rushed to Yakov’s side, moving so fast she knocked over two ladies and a portly man on her way. She stepped in front of the Imperial Prince and tossed her dagger from one hand to the other. “Give up, Rothbart. You will not win here,” she said.
The doors to the ballroom were flung open, and soldiers poured in while lords and ladies scrambled to leave—except for a few who were too nosey and lacked good sense.
Rothbart’s eyes lingered on Alexsei, and he smiled—the same crazy smile he wore when he told Odette he would have to kill her. “Dear Odette, how can you doubt me?” he asked. He raised a hand roped with blood red magic and pointed a finger at Yakov.
Odette threw a dagger at him—which he blocked with the armguard of his free arm. She barely noticed when Yakov withdrew as the soldiers formed a ring about herself and Rothbart.
“Sorcerer Rothbart,” Emperor Yevgeniy boomed. “You are under arrest for performing harmful magic on Kozlovkan civilians against their will, releasing a wyvern, and plotting against the Imperial Crown!”
Rothbart laughed recklessly. “I’m trembling in fear,” he sneered. “You should be ashamed it took you this long to face me. She has done a better job thwarting me—and she doesn’t even have an army to hide behind.” Rothbart pointed at Odette with a finger that swirled with his dark magic.
“Seize him!” Emperor Yevgeniy ordered.
The soldiers, moving in a unison that Odette admired and envied, closed ranks on Rothbart, tightening their circle. Odette ducked out of the tightening noose as the soldiers lowered their polearms—war scythes—so the curved blades were chest height.
The scythes were just short of touching Rothbart when he flung his arm wide and muttered in the guttural language of dark magic.
Red and black loops of ropey magic burst from Rothbart in a crackling circle. They collided with the soldiers and threw them backwards like rag dolls. As they lacked the unnatural stamina that magic gave Odette, many of them groaned and sagged, unable to get up.
Rothbart stalked towards three fallen soldiers. Odette—her heart in her throat—darted forward to meet him, stepping in front of the fallen guards.
Rothbart raised an eyebrow at her. “Still trying to protect others? Your life expectancy would be significantly longer if you fixed that flaw of yours, my pet.”
Odette didn’t waste her breath trying to reply. She stabbed at his open side with her off-hand. When he moved to block her, she struck out with her right fist to punch him in the throat. He kneed her in the stomach, shoving her backwards. Why didn’t he use magic?
She wheezed but threw her dagger to force him to keep his distance. It missed him by a wide margin, and Rothbart shook his head. “Tisk, tisk, Odette. I thought you trained better.” He flexed his fingers, drawing magic to both fists, and took a menacing step in her direction.
Odette grabbed daggers from her boots and flung her arms up in a guarding position, but just as Rothbart reached for her, he was hit in his side by a crossbow bolt that punched straight through his decorative chestplate. Though the arrow punctured the armor, she could see it was not life-threatening.
Behind her, Yakov cursed. Odette risked a glance in his direction and saw him reloading his crossbow, his expression steely.
Rothbart roared and snapped the arrow at the head. Seeing her chance, Odette lunged for his throat. Rothbart—growling with pain—flung his arm up, attacked her with his magic, and launched her backwards as he had with the soldiers.
She landed on her feet but staggered and had to kneel to regain her balance.
“You should have let me kill them,” Rothbart growled at her. “It would have been less painful to witness than what will come next!”
Before she could rise, Rothbart threw a black marble to the ground. It cracked, and foul-smelling smoke spewed from it, drawing tears to Odette’s eyes and making her cough.
> She staggered from the room as more soldiers poured inside and someone—Benno probably—threw the windows open.
It was, however, too late. Rothbart had used the distraction to disappear.
Odette was surprised, however, to see Yakov guide Odile to the hallway, his hand clasping her elbow.
Why would Rothbart remove his illusion spell from Odile and leave her behind? What is he planning? Odette considered his threats as she leaned against a wall. What could be worse than killing the royal family in cold blood? The wyverns—he’s gone back to Swan Lake to release them. She swore. My people!
In the hallway, she wiped her face with her sleeve, darted back into the ballroom—which was still clouded with smoke—and stumbled to an open window. She boosted herself onto a windowsill and slipped outside. She coughed as she staggered across the grassy lawn, growing stronger as she neared the wall.
Desperation provided her with new vigor as she scrambled up the wall, finding toeholds and handgrips in the slick, rocky surface. She popped up at the top, caught her balance just in time to avoid plummeting over the side, and carefully lowered herself down.
“Misha, Nadia, I will never stop appreciating you.” She hit the ground, landing in a crouch.
She started jogging, though her legs ached and her lungs heaved with the effort. She left Tsona Palace behind, gleaming in the moonlight, and entered the forest. She didn’t slow. Whenever she started to, the face of one of her smugglers—sweet-tempered Zina, cheerful Anna, stubborn Feofan—paraded through her thoughts, driving her forward.
I have to get back—I have to reach them!
“Odette!”
Odette almost stumbled on a root as Alexsei—riding a large gelding—plunged through the forest after her, catching up in short order. He wheeled the horse in front of her and offered her his arm. “Swan Lake?”
Odette gripped his arm and threw herself on his horse’s back, scrambling into place behind him. She was perched precariously behind Alexsei’s saddle, sitting just in front of the horse’s rump. As Alexsei turned his mount in the direction of Swan Lake, she leaned forward and hooked her arms around his waist, finding reassurance in his warm back.