Winterkeep

by Kristin Cashore

  The door opened again. Ferla stepped out with her fox, holding the lamp, followed by Benni and the guard. Benni and the guard carried something long and heavy and sagging, wrapped in a blanket.

  It was a body. Of course Lovisa understood it was a body. She even understood, from its height and girth, that it was Pari’s body. She saw it; it was unmistakable; and yet it was impossible. Her mind rejected utterly what her eyes saw.

  Ferla locked the door, her every movement stiff, deliberate, angry. The figures carried their burden not to the stairs that led down to the house, but to the stairs that led up to the roof and the airship. They ascended the steps together, an awkward parade, while Lovisa crouched in the corner, incredulous, beginning to shake. The fox brought up the rear. Once, he swung his head to Lovisa, eyes gleaming, staring at the corner where she was losing her mind.

  Benni was struggling with his grip. His hand slipped and a golden-green scarf Lovisa recognized emerged from the blanket. Ferla made an impatient noise.

  “Maybe you’d like to carry it,” Benni snapped at Ferla.

  “Maybe I’d like to carry it?” Ferla repeated, her voice falling into the room like icicles crashing onto the ground. “Maybe I’d like to carry it? Have I wanted any of this? You did this. You created this situation, and every nightmare before it, with your precious ambitions. Or should I call them delusions? Can you not see that if you’d just rescued her, like a normal human being, then you’d be the hero who worked with the silbercows to rescue the Queen of Monsea? No one would’ve blinked twice at anything you did after that! My own brother, Benni. My own brother!”

  “But now we have her!” said Benni. “It changes the game, don’t you see? We have so many options! Monsea will pay for her. Estill will too!”

  “We don’t need ransom money!” Ferla almost screamed. “We never needed to hurt anyone! We were going to do everything legally! I was going to give you your zilfium vote! You never would have had to break a single law! We had a plan!”

  Their voices became muffled as they rose. Then the heavy trapdoor on the roof closed behind them, and Lovisa could hear no more.

  * * *

  —

  Shivering in the attic, Lovisa kept trying to push her mind to a place of understanding, but it was like her thoughts were made of smoke.

  Her hands were wet and she realized she was crying. Then she was sobbing, gasping for breath, shoving her fur sleeve into her mouth to muffle the sound. Sobbing like Viri, like she was five years old. Like she’d gone running to Benni and Benni had knocked her down, slammed his library door in her face.

  How could she revise her comprehension of—she couldn’t hold on to the words—of someone she’d trusted, always. Someone she loved.

  After a while, she made herself stop crying. She thought she could hear her parents’ angry voices above her, still arguing on the roof. Listen, she told herself, but then she became afraid of what would happen if she learned more things. She didn’t want to know any more things.

  She heard her mother’s voice more clearly, then the creak of the trapdoor. Springing to her feet, groping her way down the stairs, Lovisa fled to the room with the broken window lock and climbed out, lowering herself onto the trellis, then the tree. Her hands were numb and sore, clumsy. The snow had turned icy and sharp, stinging her cheeks.

  She forced herself to run back to campus, pushing her legs through fatigue. There was no curfew on the night of the prime minister’s party, so she didn’t need a pass.

  In her dorm room, she kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed. Then she waited for sleep to take all of it away.

  PART THREE

  The Keeper

  The silbercows brought a gift to the creature.

  It was the corpse of a boy, to add to her treasures. The boy was wrapped in a blanket from which a beautiful golden-green scarf had escaped, billowing around his head like the filaments of a forest fish. He had heavy metal chains around his ankles.

  Thank you, said the creature, startled and touched by the gift, but also worried, because the silbercows looked worried. She positioned the boy on the deck of her Storyworld, admiring him. He had deep, gray-brown skin and a thatch of dark hair, but she knew that in time, his skull would turn white and wonderfully ghoulish.

  Then she waited while the silbercows rested. They’d approached from a great distance, balancing the boy on their noses and their backs. The body had kept slipping off because of the weight of the metal around his ankles. She’d watched them struggling, their injured bodies bobbing unevenly toward her, her big, beating heart surging with happiness. Whenever they were gone for a long time, she’d start to feel anxious about whether they were safe.

  Time stretched out, and still they didn’t speak.

  Thank you for this treasure, she finally said.

  You’re welcome, they told her. How is your missing tentacle?

  It hurts less than the last time I saw you, she said, which was true, but it still hurt a lot.

  The silbercows continued to float there, looking pensive.

  How are your injuries? she asked.

  The silbercows told her that their injuries were fine today.

  Are they? she said. Because I’m getting the impression that something’s wrong.

  They told her that it was just their usual worries, then nudged their noses toward her new treasure. We couldn’t save him, they said.

  Oh dear! she said. Do you mean you had to watch him die?

  They explained that no, he was already dead when they found him. Some humans had dropped his body out of an airship.

  Oh! she said. I saw some humans drop out of an airship that time, and steal that other human from the sea.

  Yes. The silbercows said they remembered. And of course they did; the massacre of their friends had happened that night. The creature was sorry for reminding them. The metal eggs full of fire also drop into the sea from airships, the silbercows reminded her, for they’d told her this before. People threw the metal eggs out of airships into the sea, then there was a moment of quiet, then there was an explosion. If the silbercows didn’t get away fast enough, terrible things happened.

  The creature went quiet, because she found herself formulating a brilliant idea. She puffed herself up a little, making her tentacles long and eye-stems alert, because she was proud of herself.

  I have an idea, she announced.

  The silbercows all wanted to know her idea immediately.

  Airships are bad, she said.

  The silbercows were not as staggered by her idea as she’d expected them to be. They looked at one another with knowing expressions, then told her that sometimes airships could be good, with people in them who cared about silbercows and wanted to hear their stories. Some humans in airships told them stories too, stories about humans. Sometimes, the silbercows and the humans could put their stories together and make sense of what was happening on land and in the sea. They asked her, Do you remember the stories we’ve told you?

  Yes. You don’t need to tell me again, said the creature hastily, then hummed a little, to discourage them. Since the day she’d lost her tentacle, they’d told her many of the stories behind her own treasures, and stories of other things too, happening in other parts of the ocean she hadn’t seen. Some were stories about accidents, like a storm breaking a ship apart. Others were stories about humans hurting each other. She reached her limit very fast.

  The silbercows told her that there was something they wanted to ask her, related to stories.

  What is it? she said, suddenly nervous, for they were looking at one another in a particular way, with that shine they got in their big, dark eyes whenever they talked about the Keeper.

  We spoke with some new humans, they said. We learned something about one of your treasures.

  So? said the creature, not knowing where this was going, but definitely not likin
g it.

  Do you remember that time you were a hero? they asked.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Lovisa hardly slept on the night she discovered the Queen of Monsea in the attic.

  Her muscles ached every time she moved; her head throbbed. The key, still hanging on its string around her neck, felt like it was imprinting itself into her chest.

  Before light touched her window, she scrabbled upright and found her shoes, then the door. She was still wearing her party dress. Outside, that northern boy, Nori Orfa, was in the corridor, leaving Nev’s room. He twisted his mouth at Lovisa when he saw her, cocky, interrogative.

  “Morning,” he said, in a manner she recognized. He was flirting with her, in the act of leaving another girl’s room.

  She summoned some strategy from somewhere. “If you’re lying to Nev,” she said to him, “you’re going to regret it.”

  His eyebrows shot up with humor. “Oh? What are you going to do?” he said, with barely a northern lilt. Pretending to be Ledran.

  “Write a letter to your girlfriend back home, for starters.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend back home,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable.

  “Oh, Sibra Liona isn’t your girlfriend?” said Lovisa. Then, as his face turned nasty, she pulled her door shut again, because she didn’t have the energy for this right now. She didn’t know who Sibra Liona was. It was only a name she’d heard, sobbed by a girl Lovisa knew who’d been involved with Nori. Some girlfriend back home Nori had lied about. But Lovisa would write to her, if Nori pushed her. What a letter that would be. “Hi. I’m not sure who you are and you’ve never heard of me, but if you’re Nori’s girlfriend, did you know he lies about you and has sex with everything that moves? You can trust me, because I know his type.” Because I am his type, she thought to herself, understanding, with a sudden avalanche of shame, that it was true. I use people for sex too. I destroy lives.

  She stood in the dark, waiting. Then, after she’d given him enough time to clear off, she crept downstairs to Pari’s bedroom. When no one answered her tap, she opened the door and stuck her head in. Of course the room was empty. She’d known it would be.

  Moments later, she pushed out into the cold morning, pulling her coat closed and avoiding the streetlamps. The ambles opened just before sunrise on Sundays, and there was something Lovisa needed before the rest of the world woke.

  * * *

  —

  Sometime later, back in the dormitory, her expression flat, her hair and clothing neat as they always were for breakfast, she went down to the dining room. There, she joined Mari Devret, who was at a small table by himself.

  He was musing over a cup of tea. “Did you have a good time at the gala?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she responded automatically. “You?”

  “All right,” he said. “I came back early. Got bored.”

  “You studied, didn’t you.”

  He smiled over his tea. “Possibly.”

  “Predictable.”

  “Everyone else thinks I snuck away to do something more thrilling with people more popular, so don’t tell.”

  “I never would.”

  “I saw you sneak out,” said Mari casually, leaving it hanging. It was a mild question. He would never ask directly.

  “Pari and I eventually went our separate ways,” she said, after a moment’s deliberation. “It didn’t come to much.”

  “Ah. I’ll admit I was a little surprised. At you,” he added, when she raised an eyebrow. “Not your type.”

  “Oh? What’s my type?”

  “Someone who doesn’t talk about it afterward.” He poured himself another cup from the pot on the table. “Want some?”

  “I’ve ordered my own,” said Lovisa, knowing that Mari still drank the northern, grassy brew that was Nev’s favorite, as an act of self-indulgent gloominess. Lovisa preferred the stronger, sharper teas popular in Ledra.

  Nev came into the dining room then, her fox kit scampering around her feet. Almost imperceptibly, Mari stiffened.

  Lovisa studied him for one tired moment, then decided he was better off knowing. “I saw a boy coming out of her room early this morning,” she said. “I’m sorry, Mari.”

  “Who was it?” he asked sharply.

  “I didn’t see,” she lied.

  He snorted, trying to keep his expression nonchalant, but Lovisa saw the hurt sitting there. “I appreciate you telling me.”

  “She never appreciated you,” said Lovisa, meaning it.

  Mari snorted again. “That’s not true, but whatever. I should probably stop moping.”

  “And stop drinking that disgusting cow-feed tea. You’re a Ledra boy. Act like one.”

  His smile was genuine. He set his cup down onto the table, then, a moment later, got up and left, probably to comfort himself with more studying. Mari’s grades were especially good when he was depressed.

  Nev sat at a table by herself, on the other side of the hall. Her little kit leaned against her ankles as she ate, staring rather disconcertingly at Lovisa, who felt she’d had enough attention from foxes to last a lifetime.

  What would Nev do if she knew the Queen of Monsea was imprisoned in the Cavenda attic?

  Lovisa imagined Nev rescuing Queen Bitterblue dramatically, with fierce eyes and straight shoulders and a righteous dignity that made Lovisa feel like a coward for leaving the queen to suffer, for running away. Whatever. It was easy for Nev. She didn’t have Ferla for a mother. Or, thought Lovisa, Benni for a father.

  At that moment, Benni appeared in the dining room doorway. He stood tall and handsome as usual, sleek in a dark fur coat, a father to be proud of, a warm expression on his face as he glanced around the room. When he saw Lovisa, he motioned for her to come.

  Punctured by her own shame, Lovisa stood and followed him.

  * * *

  —

  They climbed to her room, Lovisa fighting off a strange panic.

  Once inside, he spoke gently. “Sit down, Lovisa,” he said.

  He pointed to the bed, but she went to the desk chair. Its hardness made her feel less insubstantial. He sat on the bed across from her, very low to the floor, his hands on his high knees. He looked silly, actually. It was confusing.

  “I’m not sure what you think you saw last night, Lovisa,” he said. “But it’s nothing you need to worry yourself about, because it’s no longer an issue.”

  “What do you mean, it’s no longer an issue?” she said, incredulous.

  “The person you think you saw,” he said, “is no longer in our care.”

  He means the queen is dead, thought Lovisa, with a sudden shock of understanding. Because I found her, and saw her, they decided they had to kill her.

  A wave of bleakness broke against her. “It was never an issue for me,” she said, hearing her own dull voice telling the lie. “Whatever you’re doing, I’m on your side.”

  “That’s certainly good to hear,” he said. “Your mother and I both love you very much, Lovisa. But your recent behavior has made us wonder. I’m afraid your mother is quite angry. I think it’s fair to say that your brothers are taking the brunt of it this morning.”

  Lovisa was choking on tears, that her father should say that so casually. “But they shouldn’t be punished for something I did.”

  He shrugged. “Well, you know your mother. You might have expected it. Why did you go into the attic room last night, Lovisa?”

  “It’s a room with privacy,” she started, but he held up a hand. Shook his head.

  “I’m afraid that act won’t work on us again, Lovisa. Not after last night. You used that poor boy, didn’t you?”

  “Where is he?” asked Lovisa, her voice cracking. “What did you do with him?”

  “Pari Parnin took it into his head to leave school and travel,” said Be
nni.

  Lovisa cried out in disbelief, but Benni’s face was smooth and calm as he continued. “We asked him where he meant to go, but he wouldn’t say. Impulsive boy, isn’t he? You’ll be hearing the rumors soon. I think you understand how your mother will feel if you contradict those rumors in any way, Lovisa? She’s already disappointed in your behavior. As am I, I’m afraid.”

  Lovisa couldn’t answer. Her mind was whirling with new, bewildered thoughts of Katu. “My own brother!” Ferla had cried last night, blaming Benni for things Lovisa hadn’t understood. Katu had also supposedly taken it into his head to travel, leaving no word, saying no goodbyes. Her father had been the one to tell her so. What if he’d lied about Katu, the way he was lying about Pari? But hadn’t Katu been cashing checks in Kamassar and Borza? Arni Devret, who was Katu’s banker, had mentioned it once. Lovisa was almost certain. So then, why had Ferla yelled “My own brother”?

  “How did you get a key to the attic room?” asked Benni.

  “I’ve had it since I was a child,” Lovisa whispered, making up a likely story. “I stole it from Mother years ago and had a copy made. I was scared she would put me in there and forget about me.”

  “So you’ve been lying to us for years,” he said. “And sneaking, and stealing. And now we’re all faced with the consequences. Give me the key.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Your mother told me to come home with that key,” said Benni. “If I don’t, I expect your brothers will be the ones to suffer for it. I also expect she’ll come to you herself, looking for it.”

  Lovisa knew this was meant to frighten and shame her into acquiescence. It was also probably true. She reached into her shirt, pulled the string over her head, and held the attic key, its glass gemstone sparkling, out to him. Benni rose, took it from her, and looked down at her for a moment with a grave and mournful expression.