My whole body buzzed. I was on the right path, I knew it. Every metal that burned too hot or barely reacted at all brought me closer to finding the one that was right, closer to finally starting the life that I wanted. How perfect would it be, if I solved all my problems on the night of the king’s birthday, if I sealed my escape from the court on the one night a year when I had to be there? I’d never have to step inside that ballroom again.
After the seventh attempt, I checked the clock again. Two a.m. That didn’t seem right. It had only been an hour, I was sure. But the king’s parties always went on forever. I had plenty of time to return.
I glanced at Naomi again. Her eyes were closed now, and she was breathing gently. Dagny had curled up with her paws, chin, and tail on top of the book, to make sure that Naomi couldn’t ignore her. But Naomi was clearly asleep, and Dagny was, too, their chests rising and falling in sync.
The sun was peeking in through the windows when I became aware of time again. I was pouring spirit of niter into a flask, holding my breath, willing my hand to remain steady, when heavy footsteps crossed the floor above.
I jumped. Spirit of niter flew across the table, and I swore, earning a startled look from Dagny. The party must have ended. My father was going to murder me. I grabbed a cloth and quickly mopped up the liquid. If anyone touched this with their bare hands . . .
Naomi sat up. “What’s going on?” Her hair had half collapsed, revealing the wire structure underneath. She shoved the dome back onto her head.
“I heard something upstairs. Probably my father.” Maybe the feast wasn’t over. Maybe he had noticed my absence and finally come looking for me. I wasn’t sure if that would be better or worse. When I had left the new year celebrations early to study, he’d locked me out of my laboratory for a month. No experiments, no research, not even access to my books, even though I’d attended the ball for at least an hour. That should have been punishment enough for any later transgressions.
More footfalls, pounding down the stairs. They were too heavy to be maids, but too many to be just my father. Had he brought the whole court to berate me?
It had to be somebody else. Thieves, perhaps. Opportunistic criminals who expected the manor to be empty during the ball. I’d assume that intruders would at least try to be stealthy, but if they thought the entire place abandoned . . . I grabbed a pair of iron tongs and held them in front of me, staring at the laboratory door.
“Freya?” Naomi swiped the small shovel from the fireplace. “Who do you think it is?”
I didn’t reply. It couldn’t be anyone good. But if we kept quiet, they probably wouldn’t look here. It was a run-down old laboratory underneath the house. Not a likely hiding place for jewels.
“Freya! Freya, are you down here?”
It was my father, but he didn’t sound angry. His voice was too loud, almost desperate, fearful. Something was wrong.
Before I could even lower my weapon, the door crashed open, and my father barreled into the room.
Titus Nystrom was usually a calm and collected man, with a smile for everyone and a quick wit to match. He had to be, to convince the court that a merchant, of all people, could be allowed to walk among them.
He did not look calm now. His hair was rumpled, his skin blanched and clammy. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and he had lost his cravat somewhere on the way. My father never looked anything less than polished. Dread settled in my stomach.
“Freya!” He ran over to me and pulled me into a hug, squeezing so tightly that the breath rushed out of my lungs. “You’re alive.”
“Alive?” I scrambled to make sense of the word. “Why wouldn’t I be alive?”
“There was an attack.” He seized me by the shoulders and inspected my face. “I thought—but you’re here. You’re here. You’re safe.”
Four palace guards crowded into the laboratory behind him. They wore dark-blue coats, embroidered with the king’s three gold stars. A sword and dagger hung from each of their left hips. I stared at them, the way they clutched the hilts of their weapons. I’d never seen the guards do anything before, except stand silently behind the king, but they were alert now, ready to act.
I had to ask my father what had happened. I had to force the words out, had to know, but they got stuck somewhere in the knot that had formed at the top of my chest, and I just stared.
“Sir?” Naomi said. “What’s happened?”
My father let go of me and stared at her, like he hadn’t even realized she was there. “Naomi,” he said. “Is there anyone else here? Anyone with you?”
“No,” I said. “No, no one but us. Father, what’s going on?”
“Poison,” he said. “At the banquet. Everyone is dead, Freya. Everyone.”
The words didn’t make sense. I stepped away, the small of my back thudding against the table. Dagny butted her head against my side, and I dug my fingers into the fur around her neck. I could feel the rise and fall of her breath.
“What do you mean, everyone is dead?”
“Everyone is dead. Something was poisoned, the food or the wine . . . and it killed them. The king, the queen, the king’s brother, his nephew . . . they’re all dead.”
Cyanide could asphyxiate its victims in under ten seconds. The thought floated across my empty skull, so clinical, unwanted. Everyone was dead. Dead.
Naomi grabbed my arm to steady herself. “My brother was at the ball,” she said to my father. “Did you see him? Is he all right?”
“I don’t know,” my father said. “Several hundred are dead. Too many to know exactly who—when I couldn’t find you, Freya, I thought . . .”
I stared at him, running over the words, checking and then checking again that I’d heard correctly. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense. “But you’re alive.”
“I was lucky. I was distracted, I wasn’t eating at the feast . . .”
“So other people survived?” Naomi said. Her grip on my arm was painfully tight. “Other people are still alive?”
“Some,” my father said. “Not many. I haven’t seen your brother.”
“I have to go.” She let go of my arm. “I have to look for him.”
“I’ll go with you.” That thought, at least, made sense to me. Naomi needed help. I could help her. I clung to the idea, the clarity of it. But my father grabbed me, holding me in place.
“No. It isn’t safe, Freya. You can’t go back.”
“You said they were poisoned. So it won’t be dangerous to go back now.”
“Some are still—not everyone is dead yet, Freya. And I can’t risk you. We can’t risk you. Not now.”
“You can’t risk me? There’s no risk.” No one would ever want to attack me. “We’ll bring gloves. We won’t touch anything. It’ll be safe.”
“No, Freya!” He grabbed both of my shoulders again. “Listen. Hundreds of people died, and more are close to it. The whole line to the throne is dead.”
“So we should help those who are left!”
“Listen to me, Freya. Everyone is dead. Everyone before you. That makes you queen. You can’t go back there.”
I laughed. It wasn’t funny, not any of it, but the sound ripped out of me, the only way I could react to the ridiculousness of it. I’d seen them, alive, only a few hours before. “I can’t be queen.”
“This is not a joke, Freya.” He spoke sharply now, almost aggressively. “The first one in the line of succession to survive is you.”
“No. I’m twenty-third in line.” I was as likely to rule as Dagny was. That was why I was allowed to skip balls, why I was permitted to spend my time in the laboratory, why no one would even have noticed that I left the grounds tonight. I didn’t matter. I was nobody to them.
“Freya, listen to what I am saying. Someone wanted to destroy the court tonight. They wanted to kill the entire line to the throne, and they almost succeeded. You are the first one left.”
I couldn’t be queen. I couldn’t. So many people would have to die for m
e to inherit the throne, and they couldn’t be gone. I’d seen them, a few hours ago. All alive, completely themselves. I’d never liked most of them, but I hadn’t wanted them to die.
Dagny butted against my hand, and I swept her up into my arms, hugging her so tightly she mewed in protest.
“But my brother,” Naomi said. “He’s ahead of me in line to the throne. Ahead of me, but after Freya. What happened to him?”
“I don’t know!” My father was almost shouting now. “I didn’t see him. He may have left, himself.”
Naomi stumbled toward the door. Her legs didn’t seem able to hold her weight. “I have to get back to the palace. I have to know. I have to look—”
But the guards blocked the doorway, and they did not step aside.
“We cannot let you go, my lady,” one said.
“I have to see my brother!”
“No,” my father said. “No, they’re right. You’re in line to the throne, too. Thirty-sixth before tonight? You have to be protected, as well.”
Naomi shook her head, over and over, but the guards still didn’t move.
“We must act quickly,” my father said. “I’m sure our enemies are already planning to take advantage of the situation. We have to move now, before they have time to act against you.”
“We don’t have enemies,” I said. “How could we have enemies?”
“You’re queen, Freya. And we must ensure you remain that way. We need to leave—now. We will have the servants fetch whatever you need later.”
He gestured for me to place Dagny back on the table. I tightened my grip. I was not leaving Dagny behind. Not now. Contrary to what many people seemed to think, I wasn’t a fool. I read my history books. I knew how these things ended. The fights over who was the rightful heir, the fate of hapless girls shoved at the throne because of tenuous family connections, the overbold young men with dreams of glory. If I claimed my supposed throne, I’d be sticking out my neck for anyone to take a swing. And if I failed to hold the crown . . .
But if I didn’t claim the throne, I’d still be in danger. Who would leave the rightful heir alive, if they wanted to control the throne themselves?
I wasn’t going to leave Dagny behind tonight. Dagny helped me think. Dagny helped me breathe. I was going to need both of those things if I was going to survive this.
“I’ll go,” I said. “But someone needs to look for Naomi’s brother. They have to help her.” I looked at the guards, waiting for them to move. Instead, they looked to my father.
“Very well,” my father said. “Someone will look for him. But Naomi must come with us.” He gestured at the door, but didn’t move. I didn’t move, either.
He was waiting for me to walk through first. Because I held precedence now. Because I was the queen.
I couldn’t be the queen.
I grabbed Naomi’s hand and squeezed it before stepping forward. My legs shook.
Queen. I was queen.
THREE
NEWS OF THE ATTACKS HAD CLEARLY ALREADY SPREAD. Even more people crowded the streets now than they had last night, and the air seemed to have changed, heavy with fear. People shouted at our carriage as we squeezed past—is it true? Is the king hurt? Is the king dead?
Crowds bumped against the carriage, and the horses danced out of the way. Our curtains were clipped shut, barely letting any light through, preventing anyone from seeing me and my guards. But what would they think, even if they could see me? I was just a girl clutching a cat. Not exactly someone who looked like they had information.
“There should be guards on the streets,” my father murmured. “This could turn into a riot.”
I clutched my hands in my lap, squeezing my knuckles until they turned white. A riot. I could picture it like it was already happening, the people screaming, running, our carriage knocked over in the panic . . . but it wasn’t happening now. It wouldn’t happen. It was fine. It was fine.
“We are trying, my lord,” one of the guards said. “We were all taken by surprise.”
I looked across at Naomi. Her fear was a physical presence in the carriage, but I couldn’t think what to say. Anything reassuring felt like a lie. I was terrible with words, and now that they really did matter, I didn’t have a clue how to help her.
As the carriage jerked around a corner, Naomi began to shake, and Dagny struggled out of my arms and crossed the seat. She butted against Naomi’s side and licked her hand, purring. Naomi stroked her, but she did not turn to look.
I squeezed my eyes closed. Calm. I had to remain calm. But all my fears jumbled together, each one passing too quickly to process. Everyone was dead. I was queen. Someone had tried to kill us all. I was queen. How could I be queen? Each idea felt disconnected from the others, and I couldn’t focus on any of them. I couldn’t breathe.
No. I could handle this. I just needed to focus on the problem. I couldn’t solve the deaths, and the thought of being queen was still too big, too impossible. So I would focus on the murders, the abstract concept of them, the logic behind it.
Someone had tried to wipe out the entire court last night. But who? Why? I hadn’t heard so much as a whisper of discontent, and the king’s spies couldn’t have, either, or this would never have happened. There had to be some motive, something that made sense . . . someone at the feast, probably, with some connections to the kitchen, in order to kill everyone so quietly and effectively.
And who had they intended to survive? Intended to rule? My life was an accident, that much I was sure of. No one would plot to place me on the throne. So had the murderer intended to wipe out everybody, every single noble in court? Or had they had another ruler in mind, another survivor further down the line?
Our carriage moved against the flow of the crowd, away from the palace. Once the sounds of the crowds faded, I unclipped the curtains and peered out.
“Freya!” my father hissed. I ignored him.
The same. Everything looked the same. The world had not shifted. It looked like the start of another normal day.
A stern stone castle loomed on a hill ahead of us. I didn’t know its official name, but everyone here called it the Fort. The name did little to capture its true terror. It was a single, square tower, built of black stone, surrounded by a dark moat. Once, it had been the home of the king, when warring nobles were a constant threat. Then it had become a prison, for the kingdom’s most dangerous enemies, but even that was rarely needed any longer. The Fort was more of a warning than a weapon these days, but it was kept in readiness, in case the king needed protection.
“We’re going to the Fort?” I said.
My father nodded. “It’s the only place that’s safe.”
The drawbridge across the moat hadn’t been raised for at least two hundred years. I’d thought the chains and pulleys must have rusted closed from disuse, but the bridge had been lifted now, preventing anyone from approaching.
Another two guards blocked the road at the edge of the moat. “Halt!” one shouted, as the carriage drew near. “Who goes there?”
“It is your queen,” my father said. “Let us through.”
The guards did not lower their swords. “Step out of the carriage.”
I pinched the skin between my thumb and my forefinger, swallowing my fear. If these guards didn’t want me as queen, they could easily kill me. In all the chaos, no one would ever notice. My guards stepped out of the carriage, their own swords raised, and my father nodded for me to follow. I grabbed Dagny before I moved. Her wriggling warmth kept my hands steady.
The men on the road frowned as I emerged, like they were trying to figure out who I was. They relaxed slightly when they saw my father.
“Titus,” one said. “You survived.”
“I did. As did my daughter. Please, let us through. Who knows what may happen if we linger here.”
“Of course.” The guard bowed to me. If he thought bowing to a soot-covered teenager clutching a large cat was strange, he didn’t show it. “Please, follow me.�
�
He led us partway around the moat, to a point where the bank was slightly less steep. A man sat in a boat halfway across, and when he saw the guard, he rowed for the shore. Rubbish floated on the water, detritus from the river that had been swept here and become stuck. Something to do with tides, I thought vaguely. The sea was miles and miles away, but I was certain I’d heard that. The Fort’s moat always stank because of something to do with tides.
The boat bumped against the shore, and a guard grabbed it before nodding for me to step inside. It bobbed as I shifted my weight onto the deck, and I squeezed Dagny tight, suddenly certain I was going to go flying into the water.
“Keep good hold of that cat, young miss,” the boatman said. “Don’t want it to take a sudden swim.”
“Young miss?” my father said. “This is your new queen.”
The man stared at him. “I apologize,” he said. The words were almost a question. “Let us cross then, quickly.”
I perched on the bench, and two guards climbed in the boat behind me, taking up all the remaining space.
“Wait,” I said, as the boatman pushed off. I looked to Naomi and my father, still waiting on the shore.
“The boat will come back for us, Freya,” my father said. “You must go ahead.”
They couldn’t make me go ahead alone. “The guards can wait,” I said. “We can cross together.”
“The guards cannot wait, Freya. Did you forget what has happened tonight?”
Of course I hadn’t forgotten. But the guards were as likely as anyone to hurt me now. We had no idea who had attacked the king. I’d be safer with people I knew. And as useless as I was, I didn’t want to leave Naomi alone. But the boatman had already rowed several lengths away, and I knew he wouldn’t turn back.
I pressed my chin against Dagny’s fur. The Fort loomed ahead, a dark shadow against the sky.
The boatman deposited me on the bank on the other side, and my remaining guards hurried me up the steep, pathless hill. My shoes slipped on the mud. I glanced back at the opposite shore. I should wait for my father and Naomi—but my guards were relentless.
Long May She Reign Page 3