“Why? Why would they do this?”
“They’re hunting for you,” Fitzroy said. “To bring you to Sten. I guess when they didn’t find you here—”
“How did you know?” That was suspicious, too. “How did you know to look for me?”
“They asked me to join them. They thought I’d be on their side, considering who my father was.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Naomi said. “You didn’t tell the guards?”
“I found out ten minutes ago,” he snapped. “And all the guards I’ve met are part of it. I hoped I’d be able to find you and warn you. I told them I’d join them, and ran up to your rooms, but the guards were already inside, destroying things. I thought you were dead, Freya, or captured, until I realized they couldn’t find you. So I thought you might be here. I came to warn you.”
“They let you go?” I said. “After you said you’d join them?”
“I’m a familiar face at court, Freya. And they’re saying you murdered my father, so you could take the throne for yourself. Of course they trust me.”
“My father!” If they were after me, they must be willing to hurt him, too. I twisted out of the laboratory. “What happened to my father?”
“I don’t know,” Fitzroy said. I began to run down the corridor again, but Fitzroy grabbed my arm.
“If the wrong people see you, Freya, they’ll kill you.”
“And what happens when people find him?”
“Nothing as bad as if they find you. You’re the queen, Freya.”
“Apparently not,” I said. “Not a welcome one.”
“So stay out of their way.” Fitzroy looked around. “We have to get you out of here. We don’t know who we can trust. You have to leave.”
“Leave?” I laughed. The sound echoed off the walls, a little desperate, a little hysterical. “Leave and go where? They’ll hunt me down and kill me. The Fort is supposed to be the safest place in the kingdom!” If I left, I would no longer be queen, and I’d have no protection at all. I’d be even easier to kill.
I couldn’t run. I’d just be murdered in the hills, or on the streets. I squeezed Dagny so close she meowed in protest again. “We have to defend the Fort. It’s my only chance.”
“Where are the other guards?” Naomi said. “They can’t all have turned against us!”
“I assume they’ve been attacked, too,” Fitzroy said. “That, or they’ve joined Sten. Many won’t even be here—most don’t live here.”
So I was unlikely to get help from them. But I had to try. “Fitzroy, you go and find them. See if you can get any to help us. If they’ve all turned against us, pretend to be on their side until you can escape. They respect you.”
He nodded. “What are you going to do?”
What was I going to do? I let out a long breath. I had to be calm. Logical. “I’m going to the throne room,” I said. “If they want to kill the queen, they can do it while I’m sitting on the throne. See if they’re brave enough then.”
“Make them remember your power,” Madeleine said softly. “Sten will hesitate at that.”
“Hesitation is all we need, if we can bring the guards.” And I refused to die cowering in a corner of the dungeons, in the vain hope they wouldn’t find me.
Fitzroy shook his head. “It’s risky.”
Madeleine let out a little huff of air. “Yes,” she said. “Of course it’s risky. Come on.” Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she strode away.
I nodded to Fitzroy. “Stay safe.”
He squeezed my shoulder, fear seeping through into his expression. “You too, Your Majesty.”
I hurried away.
No guards watched the corridors now. We passed no one at all, and saw no signs of struggle—how could there be, when there was nothing in the corridors to knock over, nothing to displace at all? It looked like the contents of the castle had already been swept away.
We turned a corner. Two guards hurried toward us. On the left, Mila, the young blond girl who’d shown me my laboratory. On the right, a gawky brunette who often guarded the halls, but had never guarded me, as far as I could remember. I hesitated, but Madeleine did not pause. She kept walking, head held high, staring them down.
“We are heading to the throne room,” she said. “If you will excuse us.”
“Your Majesty,” Mila said. “We were looking for you. I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“She is not safe yet,” Madeleine said. “Please let us through.” And they did. They stepped aside, and our group strode past, moving closer to the throne room with every step.
“We want to protect you, Your Majesty,” the brunette said. “We were on patrol, when one of the other guards told us . . . we wanted to find you. Please, how can we help?”
“Wait at the door,” Madeleine said. “Do not let anyone in without permission.”
The brunette nodded. “What’s your name?” I asked her.
“Carina, Your Majesty. Carina Carlsen.”
Carina Carlsen. I tucked that knowledge away. I hoped I could trust her.
The throne room had been attacked, too. The banners, the paintings . . . all of it had been torn down, shredded. The gold plates had been knocked off the table, the crystal shattered on the floor. But Madeleine stepped straight over it, and I followed. The throne loomed at the far end of the room, and I would certainly fit in it now, in my soaked, bedraggled nightgown. I doubt I’d ever looked less like a queen. But I would be more like a queen sitting on the throne than gawping beside it, so I sat.
“Straighten your back,” Madeleine said. She ran her fingers through my hair, working out the knots. Then she pulled some pins out of her own hair and stuck them between her teeth, twisting mine into something that must have resembled a style. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but it didn’t seem like the extravagant, heavy styles of the court. Just the feel of it made me sit straighter, feel more regal somehow.
I could hear people speaking outside the throne room—or maybe above it. The Fort carried sound in strange ways. But Madeleine did not seem concerned. She continued to arrange me, her hands steady.
As a final touch, Madeleine pulled out the necklace she’d rescued from my rooms. She draped it around my neck, leaving the ruby to gleam against the white of my nightgown.
My heart pounded in my throat. I wasn’t ready for this.
Then I heard footsteps outside the door.
“Stop!” one of my guards said. “In the name of the queen.”
I had to invite them in. I had to stall them, but if I looked like I was in control, like I didn’t really care about their threat . . . I had to be in control.
“Let them in,” I said, as loudly as I dared. The words seemed to bounce around the destroyed room.
“Your Majesty—” one of the guards began. I cut her off.
“Come in, whoever you are.”
Torsten Wolff strode through the door. A sword gleamed in his hand. It was clean, though—he hadn’t hurt anyone yet.
“Cousin!” Madeleine said, stepping forward slightly. Her voice was all sweetness and light. “How good to see you.”
More men entered behind Sten. None of them were bothering to conceal their faces, I realized. They didn’t care who knew about their involvement. Perhaps they didn’t expect any witnesses to survive.
I kept my own expression as impassive as I could. All I had to do was look like a queen.
“Lady Freya,” Sten said. “Hiding on your stolen throne.”
“Not hiding, cousin,” Madeleine said, her voice still so calm, so lovely. “This is a queen’s place, is it not? On her throne?”
“It is,” he said. “A queen’s place. But she is not a queen.”
“Clearly, you are mistaken.”
“How can you stand there beside her, Madeleine?” he hissed. “She murdered our friends.”
I clutched the arms of the throne. “I didn’t murder them!”
“Did you think no one would notice? I’ve been t
o your laboratory, Freya. It’s full of poisons. Notes on their effects. You’re experimenting in an old torture chamber, and you didn’t think anyone would suspect you?”
“I’m trying to solve the murders.” Calm, I thought. Stay calm. I couldn’t manage the same light tone as Madeleine, but I could at least seem somewhat collected. “Why would I keep arsenic with me if I’d used it to kill the whole court? You can’t think I’m that foolish.”
“It would be foolish,” Sten said. “But I am not convinced that you are not a fool. I suspected you from the beginning. You attended the banquet, and then left with your friend before the poison struck. But I didn’t know until yesterday, when you decided to pardon your accomplices.”
“I didn’t pardon them.” Calm. I took a deep breath. “I didn’t want them to be executed. That doesn’t mean I support them.”
“And yet you have no respect for the dead. You stole tributes from the river. You admitted to reading a book that says we should all be killed. And you do your strange little experiments, with poison. You can’t be queen.”
“So you’re planning to kill me?” I was proud of how steady I sounded. I tilted up my chin, just a little, so I was looking down at him even more. Imperious.
“I want you to come quietly,” he said. “Admit your crimes, and face justice.”
“I didn’t do it, Sten. It wasn’t me.”
He glowered at me, his hatred so strong that I almost flinched. “Get up,” he said. His eyes lingered on the necklace that Madeleine had given me. “Take off those jewels and come along quietly. I don’t want to have to kill you, no matter what you’ve done.”
If I moved an inch, if I gave any sign of breaking, he would murder me and leave my blood to soak into the stones. I could see it in his eyes. And he might murder me either way, but Madeleine . . . Madeleine believed. Madeleine did not look afraid.
“It is my throne,” I said quietly. “I will not move for you.”
Sten stepped forward, sword held before him. Dagny hissed at him. He glanced at the necklace again. “Do you think you can rule?” he said. “Do you think you can hide in this fortress and really be queen? No one will support you. Half of them have already joined me. You’ll rot in here.”
“And if she does,” Madeleine said, her voice still all politeness, “she will rot as queen.”
Shouts and running feet. Someone called “Your Majesty!” and then Fitzroy’s voice, “Freya!”
He’d found the guards. It was enough to make me sit straighter, to meet Sten’s gaze.
“My guards are coming,” I said. “If you plan to kill me, you’d better be quick.”
He glanced down at the necklace again. Then he reached forward with his free hand, snatching for my arm. Dagny spat and struck with her claws, leaving streaks of gleaming red blood on his wrist. Sten flinched, and in his moment of hesitation, guards crashed through the doors.
“Stop!” one of them shouted. “In the name of the queen.”
Sten spun around, sword raised. Another group of guards surged into the room, some wearing their usual jackets, some in loose shirts and breeches, a few holding swords, others wielding only fierce expressions.
“Step away from the queen.”
“This girl,” Sten spat, “is a murderer. She must be brought to justice.”
“Stand down, Sten.” That was Fitzroy. My heart pounded. He didn’t have a weapon, but he stepped forward, as the new guards moved around the walls, surrounding Sten’s men. Several stepped in front of me, blocking me partially from view. But they didn’t have any weapons. I could taste blood at the back of my throat, that metallic tang of fear.
No one moved to attack. For a long moment, everyone stared at one another.
Then one of my guards grabbed for Sten’s arm. Sten swung his sword. Not enough to actually collide with the guard, but enough to make him flinch back. Enough to break the tension in the room, to make his men pull out their swords, too, to turn the standoff into a fight.
I couldn’t follow what happened next. Two of the guards stood so close to me that they were practically on my toes, and there were too many voices, too many men wearing the same shirts and coats on either side. I could smell blood on the air, hear the shouts, the clangs of metal, the thuds of flesh on bone.
But my men outnumbered his now, and they were on the outside, pressing the enemy in. We had to win.
Sten must have reached the same conclusion. “All right, Queen Freya,” he said, and his voice seemed to cast a spell over the room, freezing the fighting men in place. “I’ll leave you to your throne.” He spat onto the floor. Behind him, a few of his men were bleeding, and a few of mine, but no one was dead, not yet. “But you’ll wish you surrendered. I promise you that.”
NINETEEN
STEN MARCHED AWAY. HIS MEN SURGED FORWARD again, protecting him, clearing the way. One of my guards tried to block the door, but Sten shoved her aside, and then he was gone.
I clutched the pendant around my neck, and I stared at the door, listening to the fading footsteps. Fitzroy and my guards chased after him. I held my breath, waiting for more shouts, the sound of another fight.
A man yelled, and I leaped to my feet, forcing Dagny to bound to the floor. Madeleine grabbed my shoulder, holding me back. “Wait here,” she said. “They’re leaving.”
“But the guards—” Fitzroy.
“If he wanted to kill your guards, he would have done this in a very different way. He thinks he’s being noble, Freya. He thinks he’s right. He won’t want to kill anyone he doesn’t have to.”
“And when my guards attack him?”
“He’ll defend himself,” she said. “But then he’ll leave.”
“Until when?”
“Until he thinks he’s stronger. But it gives you time.”
My guards had captured a couple of Sten’s men, but most of them had escaped. I’d barely stopped anybody.
I stepped away, twisting the necklace in my hand. I pressed my feet firmly against the stone. The cold helped me to focus. No time to panic now.
More shouting down the hall. I jumped, my grip tightening on the necklace.
“What is that?” Naomi said, nodding at the chain. “Sten kept looking at it.”
“The Star of Valanthe,” Madeleine said.
I stared down at the jewel with dawning realization. Valanthe had been one of the Forgotten, or so legend claimed, known for her justice and kindness. She had been the last to leave Epria, the most reluctant to abandon the kingdom, and had left a jewel to remind us mortals of her desire to return. Or so the legends said. “I wanted him to think twice about the possibility of crossing the Forgotten,” said Madeleine. “To remember that you are the anointed queen.”
“Does that matter, if he thinks I’m a murderer?”
“Probably not in the end. But it made him reluctant enough to do anything in that moment, didn’t it?”
Dagny rubbed against Madeleine’s ankles, and Madeleine bent down to stroke her.
More footsteps echoed from outside the door. I stood ramrod straight, my stomach twisted. Please let them be my men. Please let Fitzroy be all right.
Fitzroy was the first through the door. Relief rushed through me. He looked fine. He looked perfect. I ran forward and threw my arms around him. He let out a little oof of surprise, and then his arms settled around my back, my chin tucked on his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly. His breath tickled my neck. The sensation ran all down my spine.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you—”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” I stepped back, suddenly aware of how close we had been. Too close. Stupidly close. He scraped his hand through his hair, making it even messier than before, and nodded at me. Such an awkward nod. I didn’t know Fitzroy was even capable of being awkward.
“Was anyone else hurt?” I said quickly. “Did Sten and his men leave?”
“They escaped, Your Majesty,” a guard to our right said. “We
sent men after them, but they evaded our soldiers.”
“So no one else is hurt?”
“No one, Your Majesty.”
It felt too good to be true. Surely we hadn’t survived this so easily.
“Thank you,” I said to Fitzroy. “For fetching the guards.”
“They were already looking for you. I just pointed them in the right direction.”
One of the guards stepped forward. “When we realized the Fort was under attack, Your Majesty, we wanted to help.”
“You wanted to help me?”
“It’s our duty, Your Majesty. And you’re no murderer. Some of us appreciate what you’ve done, pardon my saying so.”
“What I’ve done?” I’d barely done anything.
“Returning that money, Your Majesty. Things are tight these days . . . and then refusing to kill that servant. Some would say you’re too soft, but the rest of us—well, we appreciate it, Your Majesty. Things have been hard for everyone recently.”
The words seemed to reach me through water, slightly fuzzy and hard to make out. I’d actually done something right. “Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Stop!” A guard by the door shouted into the corridor. I turned. Rasmus Holt was in the doorway. He was paler than I’d ever seen him, and his beard twitched with nervous energy. “Your Majesty,” he said. “You’re all right. When I heard what Sten intended, I thought—but you are truly protected by the Forgotten.”
I hurried toward him. He looked unharmed, too, if shaken. “Have you seen my father?”
“Your father . . .” Holt winced. “He was with me, at the time.”
My stomach dropped. If he was reluctant to tell me, if it was that bad . . . “And? What happened?”
“They locked us in. To ensure we did not interfere. Your father was—he was concerned for you. And then Torsten Wolff appeared and said they were leaving. I assumed you were dead, but then . . .” He shook his head.
“And my father?”
“He went with them.”
No. I stepped back, shaking my head. It didn’t make sense. “How could he have gone with them?”
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