“Easy, girl!” Mrs. Wilkins laughs as she pats me gently on the back. “Here, have a sip of this.” I grab the mug of water she’s offering and down several gulps. This spirit stuff is overrated, that’s for sure.
Mrs. Wilkins takes a swig of her own brandy and winks at me. “Don’ let it hit the back of yer throat or the stuff’ll burn. But you’ll get used to it.”
I take another tiny sip, careful to swallow in one go. Not so bad, this time. And indeed, the shaking in my hands has eased a bit.
The brandy sends a wave of calm through me. Better. “So—how am I getting off this ship?”
“Ah yes. That’s the question, aye.” Captain Wilkins nods in agreement. “The King’s men at the port are checkin’ the crew lists of incomin’ and departin’ ships carefully. We can’t be unloading you without having proof of your original departure.” He takes another sip of brandy, considering.
“Unless I’m not unloaded, perhaps,” I suggest.
“What do ya mean, m’lady?” Mrs. Wilkins looks puzzled.
I tip my brandy toward each of them. “You’ve got to return the empty crates to Nile, correct? Well, assuming he’s able to fill them again …” My heart leaps in my throat, remembering what Leif might be attempting to do right as I speak.
Mrs. Wilkins pats my arm. “Don’t you worry, Raven. Nile will get free. The King’s not about to … to disrupt his supply. I’m sure it’s all a rouse.”
When she says that, a jolt shoots through my body. Suddenly it all makes sense: it’s all got to be a trap. And I’m falling right into it as they wish.
King Araroa knew Leif would not let his father remain in prison. And he knew I’d not let Leif help Nile on his own.
I take another sip of brandy.
His plan didn’t work before, and it’s not going to work this time.
“Hide me in a crate and deliver me to Nile and Leif’s house. When I find Leif, we’ll figure out how to free Nile.” Without getting caught ourselves, I add silently.
“They inspect the crates, though,” says Mrs. Wilkins. “Is there a way to get one through without them doing so?” She looks over at the captain worriedly.
He thinks that over for a minute. “I’ll make sure the lady gets ashore without notice. It’ll all be fine, don’t you lassies worry a bit.”
I don’t know if it’s the brandy, or the fact that Captain Wilkins is a master smuggler, but I believe him.
Even still, I hardly sleep a wink. As we get closer to Nadir, every little creak and groan of the ship startles me awake. Finally, sometime before dawn, I drag myself up on deck to watch the sunrise. My last dawn at sea.
The moon has set, and the sky is a riot of stars scattered across blue velvet. I start to wonder if I’ll be able to see land, when suddenly it’s there: just ahead, the outline of Nadir becomes visible, mountains silhouetted in the brightening sky. The wind is steady, and the ship bounds toward the land. My trepidation of returning to Nadir fades as we sail closer, knowing Leif is on that shore. Somewhere.
As we approach the port in the evening, Mrs. Wilkins tells me to hide in the galley among the stores. She says no man would dare to look in there. The ship pulls to the dock, and there is a lot of yelling as lines are secured against the wind. Boots thump around on deck above me, but sure enough, no one comes into the galley to check. I listen to the crew unloading all the crates and barrels and grow drowsy from my lack of sleep the night before.
It’s nearly dark when Mrs. Wilkins shakes me awake. I fell asleep on a bag of rice, tucked away in the stores closet. “Raven, m’dear. They’re gone. It’s time to offload, Your Majesty.”
“What about all the crates?”
“They’ve been inspected and are waiting on the dock. Felix will be takin’ you with the load for Nile.”
I take a deep breath. This is it. I run down the passageway to my cabin, grab my small bag and Fortissima, then follow Mrs. Wilkins out on deck.
The docks are quiet, with most of the crews off to the pub. Felix is waiting by the stack of crates set aside for Nile to refill … eventually. I give Mrs. Wilkins a quick hug goodbye, then clamber inside the open crate and curl up. Felix fastens the lid over me tightly. It’s pretty uncomfortable but not unbearable. Besides, it’s only a few hours between the port and the Bastion.
My crate is gently lifted and hauled ashore and onto the waiting cart. When the load is ready, I feel the burro’s tug as we’re carried to the place I never thought I’d see again.
It’s quiet for an hour or so as we steadily make our way. There is a gentle rap on the side of my crate. “Are you all right in there, m’lady?” Felix’s voice is a loud whisper.
“I’m doing fine, thanks. Everything okay out there?”
I hear a low chuckle. “Well as can be.”
Another hour passes. My leg muscles start to cramp, and my left arm has fallen asleep. But it’s too tight in here to move around much. I’m lying atop Fortissima, and my hip is aching from the pressure …
Then I hear a sound that makes me immediately forget my discomfort: horses.
“Felix!”
“Shhhh, m’lady. It’s Hunters—two. But don’t panic. I’ll take care of ’em.”
The cart stops. Seconds later, the horses stop right next to us. “What have you there? Do you have permission to pass this way?” The voice is scornful. I hear the thud of boots upon the road and the jangle of regalia. My pulse rapidly speeds up.
But Felix’s voice doesn’t waver. “I do, sir. I’m to deliver these crates to the Bastion. They are empty. Ready to be reloaded for the next shipment out.”
“Inspection papers, please.” There is a pause. The papers rustle as Felix removes them from a pocket.
“The crates were inspected at the port. You’ll find they are all cleared.”
More silence.
“It’s too dark to read this. This could say anything.”
“I assure you, those are our inspection papers.” I hope the Hunter can’t detect the unease in Felix’s voice. I sure can.
“Be that as it may, we’ll have to reinspect. We must be positive nothing is being smuggled in that shouldn’t be.”
“But—” I hear the Hunter push Felix aside. More boots. There is the sound of a crate lid being pried off on the other side of the cart. It’s refastened and another lid lifted, this one right next to me.
And then the lid to my crate is hoisted off. I gasp in horror, staring up into the faces of two Hunters looking as bewildered as me. Their golden sashes dazzle in the moonlight. Their deep-purple coats nearly black in the night.
“And who might you be?” The same sneering voice now matched with a lewd half smile.
I don’t have time to second-guess myself: I uncurl my body and leap from the crate.
“Just on my way to see about a boy,” I say, climbing over the crates opposite where the two men are standing. I jump down to the ground. “Felix, can you ride?”
Felix doesn’t reply but bounds alongside me toward the waiting horses. I jump onto one, and he leaps atop the other. “Go! To your ship!” I order. He nods once, turns his horse in the direction of the port, and then takes off on a gallop. I kick my horse, and we fly in the opposite direction, toward the Bastion. I steal a quick glance back at the Hunters. They are still standing next to the cart, stunned as they watch their horses disappear in different directions.
My horse is fast and swift and has no trouble carrying me with speed. Although this is quite possibly the worst situation to be in at this point, it is glorious to be riding again.
We fly underneath the rising moon, and too soon I know we are closing in on the Bastion gates. I’ll never get through riding a horse bedecked in violet and gold—clearly a Hunter’s steed. When I’m a half hour’s walk away, I stop the panting horse and loosely tie him to a tree on the side of the road. I make my way through the trees to the footpath, a shortcut to the Bastion.
Leif is only minutes away. I’m sure of it.
I
run.
When the Bastion gates come into view, my heart thuds harder when I see the two guards posted there. It’s agonizing, but I must wait until daylight when the gate traffic will increase. I stay hidden in the trees and watch.
Sure enough, right after sunrise, a steady stream of people, horses, and burro-pulled carts moves through the gates. The guards check each one. I get in line behind a loaded cart. When it reaches the guards, they busy themselves checking the owner’s papers. That’s when I dart between them, through the open gates and into the Bastion.
“Hey! Stop, girl!” one of the guards hollers after me, but I’ve already left him far behind. Seconds later, I’m swallowed up by the morning market crowds.
I slow to a walk so as to not draw any attention to myself and then start toward West Market where surely Leif is waiting.
I make my way through the chickens and children and hollering salespeople, thankful for the morning chaos. Nobody gives me a second glance. Then I’m standing before Leif’s alley, Milford Lane. I take a deep breath. My heart is pounding, and my palms are sweating, just like the first time I turned down this lane months ago. I quickly walk down the narrow passage and stop in front of number 16.
My heart drops to my feet.
The door is splintered and hanging off its hinges—it must have been kicked in. I step inside to find the place utterly ransacked. Furniture broken, books and papers scattered all over. I reluctantly step into the ruined kitchen, and there it is: the trap door leading down to the cellar is flung open. I peer inside and am not surprised to see nothing but broken glass and golden liquid—Nile’s precious and illegal spirits—spilled on the ground. All the shelves are empty.
The house is completely empty.
I have no idea where Leif is.
I don’t know what to do. When did this happen? Was this how they took Nile away? Was Leif here—and now he’s captured too?
How am I going to find Leif now?
“Psst. Hey! Lady!” A small voice coming from outside the back kitchen door draws me out of my growing panic. A child’s face, a girl, appears briefly in the door frame before she darts back outside. I will my shaking legs to walk over to see what she wants.
She’s wearing a filthy dress, a sweater full of holes. Her feet are bare. “Are you looking for Leif?” She whispers the question, her hazel eyes wide.
Before I can stop myself, I nod my head.
The girl grins, then waves a grimy hand, indicating that I should follow her. I look around the back alley. Empty.
“Where are we going?” I ask. She silently shakes her head, sending messy blond curls flying, and then starts running down the alley, away from the main thoroughfare. I definitely don’t want to hang around Leif’s ruined home. So I follow.
We weave through alleys and passageways, some so tight I have to turn sideways to squeeze myself through. The girl’s bare feet splash in mud and muck, and eventually I give up trying to step around the filth. The homes get smaller, even more run down. The laundry outside dingier. I have to leap over several skinny dogs lazing across alleyways. The child eventually ducks inside a low, curtained doorway.
I hesitate. What if this is a trap? I’m so deep in the commoner quarters of the Bastion I couldn’t find my way out if I tried. But the girl couldn’t possibly know who I am, could she? On the other hand, why would she have asked me to follow in the first place?
I take a deep breath, duck my head, enter the doorway.
It’s dark inside, and the air is thick and oily. As my eyes adjust, I can make out people leaning against the cracked walls, many of them holding small children.
“Good work, Rosie.” A woman standing to my right hands the girl a small piece of bread. A reward. She takes it and runs back outside. The woman turns to address me. “Welcome, m’lady. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, m’lady Raven Araroa. We are so very happy you have returned—the true heir of Nadir. We do not and will not recognize any other.”
“What—how did you know it was me?”
Even in the darkness, I can see the woman smiling brightly. There is something else about her too. Some familiarity. But I can’t place it. “Leif told us all about you. My name is Imogen.” She curtsies before me.
I take another deep breath before I speak. All I want to know is where Leif is now, but I must choose my words carefully, lest these people think I am here to defy King Araroa. “Thank you, Imogen. But I am the King of Nuimana—not Nadir … King Araroa will kill me if he discovers I’m here.”
“We know, m’lady. That’s why we’ll keep you safe. With us.”
“Are there more of you?”
“Yes, indeed there are. And our numbers grow daily. We are all over the Bastion. We call ourselves the Treasoners. Ever since Araroa killed our Queen Seraphine, we’ve sworn he’s not our King. The prince will not be either should he come to power—illegitimate power. No, the only true King of Nadir is yourself. But forgive me for being so rude. Would you like to have a seat? You must be famished, having come such a long way.” Several people move over, offering me a dirty cushion by the wall. I gladly take it, collapsing down onto it. I lean back against the wall.
“Do you know Nile Phineas?”
Imogen sighs as she seats herself beside me. “Yes, I do. He’s my brother.”
“You’re Leif’s aunt!” Suddenly the questions come gushing out. “Have you seen him? He would have returned a few weeks ago. Is he okay? Where is—” But the look on her face stops the flood. Her green eyes—the same ones I now see she shares with Leif and Nile—crease in worry. Her mouth draws into a straight line.
She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen him for nearly two days now. He and some mates went to see if they could find a way in to the Palace, to see if Nile was all right. Or at the very least get word of his condition.” She pauses, putting her head in her hands. Then she looks back up, struggling to collect herself. “Oh, how I wish Leif had never gotten that letter. Damn you, Nile. I fear Leif’s gone and gotten himself imprisoned as well.”
But despite my earlier panic, I know Leif is more clever than that. He’d never get caught. “I’ll go out when it’s night. See what I can find out.”
“Oh no, m’lady. You mustn’t. Hunters are swarming. You must stay here and wait for Leif with us.”
I decide it’s no use to argue. There’s little chance I could find wherever it is Leif is hiding out. The Bastion is simply too large. I can only hope he’ll return, or at the very least send word that he’s safe.
Since there’s nothing to do but wait, I talk to the other women hiding out in the dark with me. Several of their husbands have joined Leif in searching for Nile. They are as anxious as me for their safe return. The children run in and out all day, bearing bits of donated—and pilfered—food for us to eat. Thankfully, the kids don’t seem to mind, relishing their illicit task.
I talk to Imogen too, and ask her what the other groups of Treasoners are planning.
“They are stockpiling weapons, mainly. Getting ready. We’ve set up a secret word-of-mouth network to pass information between us. But mostly, we’re keeping quiet. The King’s Hunters are arresting anyone they suspect of being a Treasoner … or of simply having contact with one. But now that you’re here, I think our numbers will grow even more.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I have no desire to get involved with any kind of revolution. While I have to admit I’d like nothing other than to see King Araroa taken from power, perhaps Prince Dominic—my brother, after all—will be a much kinder and fairer ruler. Perhaps.
Right now, I want nothing more than to find Leif, and Nile, and get back to peaceful Nuimana.
I don’t speak any of this to Imogen, though.
It’s been quiet all day, but at dusk the sound of boots marching outside startles us.
“In the closet! Quick, everyone!” Imogen orders.
We pile into a tiny room off the main on
e; there’s at least ten of us all smashed together. Imogen shoos all the kids back outside, then stuffs herself in too, closing the door behind her. The boots march closer and stop. There is a hard knock on the door to the house next to ours. Everyone holds their breath as the boots pass the front door of our own. I grab the hands next to mine, and we squeeze each other’s sweaty palms. But the Hunters keep marching past. There is no knock.
“They’re gone,” Imogen announces, and we all tumble silently from the stifling closet. “This time.” She sighs.
The night is warm and my sleep fitful; it’s impossible to find comfort on the hard floor. Only terrible dreams. I awaken to see Rosie standing next to me.
“This is for you, m’lady.” She hands me a small, warm bundle. I take it and peel back the paper wrapping. It’s a meat pie; the rich, savory smell nearly makes me swoon.
I smile up at the small girl. “Thank you, little lady. Have you any for the others?”
She shakes her head. I smile again at her and take a bite. I close my eyes as I chew. Slowly. It feels like it’s been weeks since I’ve eaten anything so delicious.
I hand the pie to the woman next to me. Her eyes go wide, questioning. I nod. She takes a bite, then hands it to Imogen next to her, who takes a bite of her own. Everyone makes sure that the others get some.
It does nothing to quell our hunger, but we know there will be more, someday.
Sometime in the middle of the day, there is a quiet knock on the front door. Imogen opens the door a crack and speaks to the person outside. I cannot hear what they are saying. When she shuts the door and turns to me, the worry on her face is unmistakable.
“Word is getting out out, m’lady, that you have returned. Araroa is soon to know as well. We should probably move you tonight, to a safer house, just in case. Hannah and I will do it, after dusk. After inspections.” She motions toward the girl standing by her side. She’s probably a year older than me—eighteen at least. Her thick chestnut locks make her creamy skin even more striking. She gives me an unenthusiastic half smile. Clearly not eager to move anywhere.
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