Beast & Crown #2

by Joel Ross

  “She never did anything wrong.”

  Nosey’s face clouded. “Perhaps not, but . . . she must serve her queen.”

  “We don’t want to die,” Ji said. “Please—”

  “And we don’t want the realm to fall,” Lord Pickle interrupted, trotting closer on a warhorse that matched his sister’s. “We don’t want tens of thousands of people to die.”

  “What would you do, if you were me?” Ji asked.

  “I’d serve my queen.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Ji murmured, before raising his voice. “Please, Your Grace, may I drag the urn out of the fire?”

  “Absolutely not. I’ve seen what you do with fire.” Pickle turned to the knights. “Secure him!”

  Three nets soared through the air at Ji. Heavy hooks whistled and spun. Ji scrambled sideways . . . too slowly. A line of fire burst along his back as the nets hooked into his flesh.

  “This is the Winter Snake?” a knight in a crested helm asked.

  The Winter Snake? They thought Ji was the Winter Snake? That wasn’t even a real thing. It was a myth about a flesh-eating serpent, a devourer of children, a poisoner of wells. A threat to everything decent and good and alive.

  Ji gasped with pain at the hooks. “I’m not . . . the Winter Snake.”

  “You’re a hatchling,” the knight said, “and our job is to make sure you never grow up.”

  “Now!” Sally yelled.

  The knight half turned at the shout but still managed to whack Ji with her mailed fist. Pain burst in his head and the world spun into a wobbling blur. Swords whispered from sheaths, horses danced and whinnied. Dull impacts sounded. Thump! Thump-thump!

  Ji blinked tears from his eyes and saw yellow-green rocks falling from the sky.

  No, not rocks. Coconuts. One hit the ground a foot from Ji, and emerald wings soared above.

  “Eat coconuts, chuckle-knuckles!” Chibo fluted, dropping another coconut at a target he couldn’t see.

  “Get the urn,” Ji mumbled, dizzy from the blow to his head. “Sally, get Nin!”

  “Kind of”—she grunted—“busy at the moment.”

  Fine. He’d do it himself. With a whimper, he pulled a hook out of his side. Blood trickled and pain flared—and a snarling fur ball bounded past him. Sally ducked a sword, then leaped onto a saddle behind a knight. The horse reared and the knight crunched to the ground as Sally somersaulted away.

  A dart whizzed past Sally’s tail, and Nosey shouted, “Don’t hurt her if you don’t have to!”

  Ji yanked another two hooks from his skin, his vision blurred with tears. Horses stomped and knights yelled. Crossbows twanged. Blows landed with thunks and clanks.

  “Catch that hobgoblin!” Nosey yelled at the knights. “She’s half your size and— Yiiiii!”

  “Sorry,” Sally growled. “Were you using that?”

  “My hair!” Nosey shrieked. “You beast!”

  Sally grunted at a meaty thud and fell silent. A ragged cheer sounded from a couple of knights. When Ji’s vision cleared, the nets wrapping his face seemed to divide the world into segments. Then something caught his eye: a skinny black-and-gold rope draped across one of the nets that wrapped him.

  Not a rope! A braid.

  A gold-painted braid that Sally must’ve cut from Posey’s head. When Ji snorted a laugh, a knight smacked him again and his world turned black.

  The final hook ripped from Ji’s shoulder and he woke with a moan of pain. His teary eyes sprang open. The evening wavered around him. Muttered words and loud whinnies sounded, along with the crackle of the dying fire.

  A sharp edge pricked Ji’s neck, and a shape loomed over him. He blinked a few times. The nets were gone, but Lord Pickle was holding a sword to his throat.

  Moving just his eyes, Ji peered around the water clock yard. Two moons hovered in the darkening sky. Chibo and Sally and Roz stood inside a ring of mounted knights. Chibo’s lip was bloody, and leather cords bound Sally’s front paws. Lady Nosey’s horse cantered at the front of the knights pointing spears at Roz, who was wrapped in heavy chains. Also, Nosey was missing a few of her gold-painted braids—and one of them was in Ji’s lap.

  “Get moving,” Lord Pickle said, tapping Ji’s cheek with the flat of his sword.

  Ji wrapped the gold-painted braid around his fist. He glanced at the fire pit as he stood, and his stomach curled at the sight of Nin’s urn on the burning coals. A glut of dirt smoldered in the fire. No ant lions moved—but at least Ji didn’t see any dead ones. Maybe they’d run off before they’d been burned.

  He knew what he needed to do. He had a plan. A stupid plan, but a plan. His grip tightened on the gold-painted braid, and—

  A strange wind rose. Hot and dry: a strong, whipping desert wind. The leaves of the coconut palms flapped. Embers swirled and warhorses nickered. The faint smoke of the fire thickened, blackened, then braided into a figure: a lanky teenager mounted on a warhorse and wearing smoky armor. Brace. Well, Prince Brace now, casting a spell to make himself appear in the smoke even though he was probably miles away. A moment later, another smoky figure appeared: a hulking man with broad shoulders and a bald head. That was Mr. Ioso, one of the queen’s mages. The two of them rode smoky warhorses from the fire until they floated in the air above the pit.

  “Good news, Prince Brace,” Lady Nosey said, urging her horse closer. “The trap at the water clock worked perfectly.”

  Brace’s smoky gaze swept the yard. “Well done, Lady Posey, Lord Nichol.”

  “Thank you, my prince,” Lord Pickle said.

  “You trapped us, Prince Brace,” Roz said, her gruff voice gentle, “but you are trapped as well. If you order our deaths, you’ll never escape from that. Once you’re crowned, you’ll live for hundreds of years knowing that you killed your friends.”

  Brace shifted on his saddle. “And saved my realm.”

  “What kind of realm turns you into a murderer?”

  A muscle twitched in Brace’s face. “The only one we have. Look at yourself, Roz. You’re a horror.”

  “My prince,” Mr. Ioso said, leaning closer to Brace, “I suggest that we drag the creatures to the river to finish the sacrifice immediately.”

  Ji’s jaw clenched. If they reached the river, Brace would cast the Diadem Rite. A tree would rise from the water, with sharp branches to impale Ji and the others—branches that would drain their souls to feed Brace’s crown. They’d die and he’d grow stronger: powerful enough to protect the human realm.

  Except, at the word “sacrifice,” Pickle had glanced at Sally and frowned. Like he didn’t want to hurt Sally, like he cared about her. Interesting. Back at Primstone Manor, Ji had noticed that the twins had a soft spot for cuteness.

  “Her Majesty prefers that we conclude the Diadem Rite in the Forbidden Palace,” Brace told Mr. Ioso.

  “Surely that was merely a suggestion, my lord,” Mr. Ioso said.

  “Sally!” Ji hissed. “Sally!”

  One of her tufted ears twitched.

  “Look cute,” he whispered, too quietly for anyone without hobgoblin ears to hear. “Look cute for the twins!”

  Sally glared at Ji, but then she widened her big eyes and shifted her tufted ears and fluffed her fluffy fur. And holy guacamole, Ji couldn’t believe how adorable she looked when she tried.

  “Now beg for our lives!” he said in an urgent undertone. “Cry big, fat, heartbreaking tears!”

  “Have you no honor?” Sally growled to Brace. “Standing here talking about killing unarmed foes.”

  Ji scowled. She needed to whimper and purr, not talk like Sally! Still, when Lady Nosey and Lord Pickle saw her, he heard them gasp at her sheer adorability. They even glanced at each other, like maybe they agreed with her.

  “That’s what brigands do,” Sally continued. “Not highborn nobles.”

  “Perhaps the creature has a point, my lord,” Lady Posey told Brace, though her fascinated gaze kept drifting toward Sally.

  “Bring them t
o the river,” Mr. Ioso ordered, “so Prince Brace can complete the rite once and for all.”

  Lord Pickle cleared his throat. “Of course the others must be dealt with, Mage Ioso, but perhaps we should spare the hobgoblin—”

  “I didn’t ask you,” Mr. Ioso said, sending a rope of smoke from his right hand to wrap around Pickle’s neck like a noose.

  Pickle made a horrible choking noise as the rope lifted him from his saddle.

  “No!” Nosey shouted, spurring her horse toward her brother. “Stop!”

  “Release him!” Brace told Mr. Ioso. “Her Majesty prefers that the beasts be brought to the Forbidden Palace, so that is what we’ll do.”

  “As you wish, my prince,” Mr. Ioso said, and made a fist.

  The smoky noose dropped Pickle, who fell gasping to the ground.

  “You can’t trust them,” Sally growled to Nosey. “They’d kill your brother just as fast as they’d kill mine.”

  Pickle pushed himself to his knees and Nosey watched Mr. Ioso with a furious glare. At Primstone the twins had been selfish and mean, but they weren’t killers. There was good in them. Surely they’d refuse to help Brace and the queen commit murder.

  “Bring the beasts to the city, Lady Posey,” Brace said, his voice soft. “Serve your queen well, and receive your reward.”

  After a moment, Nosey bowed. “Of course, my prince.”

  Ji felt his lip curl. So much for refusing to help with murders. The twins were utterly useless: they cared too much about being good, loyal, and obedient.

  “You have no honor,” Sally growled.

  “Keep your mouth shut, animal,” Brace said, and raised his right hand.

  His smoky fingers wafted away in the breeze. The smoke that formed him and Mr. Ioso began swirling and shifting, breaking apart as he stopped casting the spell.

  “Don’t do this,” Roz rumbled to Brace. “You’re better than this.”

  “I’m sacrificing a handful of lives to save thousands. That makes me a hero.”

  “You’re wrong. Killing us just makes you a killer.”

  For a moment, Brace simply looked at her, his smoky form unraveling.

  “You used to have kindness, Brace,” Roz rumbled. “You used to have heart.”

  “Now I have responsibility,” Brace told her, and faded into a thread of smoke, like the final breath of a dying fire.

  11

  THE MANGO TREES shriveled and blackened. A silence fell. The only sounds were the gurgle of the water clock and the pop of embers. Brace and Mr. Ioso had vanished, but the knights remained—pointing spears at Roz and crossbows at Sally and Chibo.

  “Get moving.” Lord Nichol nudged Ji with the flat of his sword. “Join the others.”

  “You don’t want to do this,” Ji told him. “Look at Sally. Look at her. Do you really want them to kill her?”

  Nichol sighed. “Of course not, but—”

  “Please, let us go,” Ji begged. “Please. We’ll take off, we’ll disappear—”

  “—but we must obey our queen,” Nichol finished. “We have to.”

  “In that case”—Ji took a breath—“I’m giving you one chance.”

  “One chance for what?”

  “To stay uncooked,” Ji told him, and lifted the gold-painted braid in his fist.

  “Posey!” Nichol said, stepping backward. “The queen said not to let him near jewels or precious metal!”

  “It’s paint,” Lady Posey said. “He’s bluffing.”

  “Gold paint,” Ji snarled. “Why do you think Sally threw it to me?”

  “Adorable or not,” Posey muttered, touching the spot where her missing braid had been, “that hobgoblin will pay.”

  “You saw what I did in Summer City,” Ji told the knights. “And look at me now. I’m more snake than human. I’ll burn you to ash.”

  A few of the knights cast nervous glances at one another, but the one who had punched Ji drew her sword. “The lizard is lying! The Winter Snake is also called the King of Lies! Serpent-Tongue, the Truthkiller.”

  “You have one chance,” Ji said. “Leave this place before I count to ten, or suffer the consequences!” He deepened his voice. “For I am the Winter Snake and I command powers that you cannot imagine.”

  This time, even the knight who’d punched Ji looked worried—which was great, except for one thing. Posey was right. Ji was bluffing. Of course he wasn’t the Winter Snake. He couldn’t raise a single spark from gold paint.

  “It’s not true,” Posey said tentatively. “Grab him.”

  “YOU SHALL BURN!” Ji raised the gold-painted braid overhead. Because why not? He had nothing to lose. When they realized for sure that he was bluffing, they’d stomp him into mud . . . but that’s exactly what would happen if he didn’t bluff. “I CALL DOWN FIRE UPON YOU!”

  Nothing happened, of course.

  No fire sparked.

  No smoke rose.

  And worst of all, no knights fled.

  “When I’m good and ready!” he continued. “After I count to ten . . .”

  Posey glanced at Sally and looked almost disappointed. “Lock him in chains. We’ve a long journey to the Forbid—”

  “Aiiiii!” A knight’s cry cut her off. “My leg! Fire, fire!”

  Two of the horses screamed and reared. Another knight yelled, and his horse made a horrible shrieking noise.

  “Flames burn them!” Ji bellowed, keeping up his act. “Fire and ash at my command!”

  Posey’s horse squealed and spun. One rear hoof lashed out, barely missing Roz’s face. Nichol screamed and Posey shrieked. The first knight galloped off wildly and four other knights followed, borne away by bolting horses. The remaining knights slashed at the air with swords and spears, as if they were beating back invisible flames.

  Tears of pain ran down Posey’s face. Her jaw clenched and her horse bucked. For one moment, she glanced at Sally with what looked like relief. Then she yelled, “Retreat! Retreat!”

  Knights shouted, beat at their armor . . . and galloped away with Posey and Nichol, leaving Ji and the others alone at the water clock.

  “Invisible flames!” Sally whistled. “Awesome!”

  “I couldn’t see them,” Chibo said, sounding disappointed. “I missed the invisible flames.”

  “Nobody saw them!” Sally told him. “They’re invisible.”

  “There were no flames,” Roz rumbled. “Did you feel any heat? Ji, what on earth just happened?”

  “I . . . don’t know.” Ji looked at his scaly hands. “Maybe dragons do that?”

  Maybe ant lions do that, Sneakyji! a voice said inside his mind.

  Ji’s heart turned gleeful somersaults. That was Nin! A colony of ant lions couldn’t talk out loud, so Nin communicated by speaking directly into the minds of the others who’d survived the Diadem Rite.

  “Nin!” he shouted, tears of relief springing to his eyes.

  Maybe ant lions crawl mouse-quiet onto horses and inside armor and buttsting all at once!

  “He’s back! They’re back!”

  Sally’s muzzle raised in a smile. “Where are you? Say something!”

  We’re here, there, and everywhere, Sallynx!

  “Holiest guacamoliest,” Chibo breathed, his four wings spreading happily.

  Ji laughed. “We thought you were dead, Nin, you stupid ogre!”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Roz rumbled, snapping her chains. “Oh, Nin. Oh, thank goodness!”

  Ji looked at the blackened urn in the embers of the fire. “But—but where are you? Still in the urn?”

  Only one of us is still urnside, Nin told Ji. Too fieryhot for the rest. Most are creepycrawling in the tinymountain.

  Ji glanced at the mound of dirt, barely visible in the twilight. “Over there?”

  And the rest are buttstinging horses and knights.

  “Poor horses.” Sally plopped to the ground, grabbed a fallen sword with one of her rear paws, and cut the leather cords binding her wrists. “I hope they’re
okay.”

  “They’re warhorses.” Ji paused. In the faint light of three moons, a speck launched from Nin’s blackened urn and flew toward him. A single ant lion, glowing a dull red. “Is that the queen?”

  The lionqueen egghatcher! The tiny ant lion landed on Ji’s nose. We needed—

  “Hot!” Ji batted at the ant lion. “Hot! My nose!”

  We needed heat to hatch a queen. The ant lion flew off, zigzagging toward the mound of dirt. Did Missroz put us on the blazefire? Clever Missroz!

  “I had no notion that ant-lion queens require heat to hatch,” Roz said.

  Of verycourse! How else could she hatch?

  “I’m just so glad,” Roz rumbled, beaming at the ant lions.

  Ji scanned the freshly dug earth until he spotted the trail of ant lions. “C’mon, Roz, over here! Nin, gather all your . . . yous together. We’ll fill Roz’s backpack with dirt and plop you all inside.”

  Avocado rinds! Nin said when the first ant lions crawled into the backpack. Our favoritemost food, after roast sweetbeets with spicy peppers. Are they called “rinds” or “skins”?

  “Rinds, I think,” Roz said.

  Or peelskins!

  “Well, I suppose—”

  Rindpeels?

  While Nin chattered on, Ji scooped dirt into the backpack in the light of the three moons. Beside him, Sally dug like a dog with her front paws.

  “Never tell me to look cute again,” she said, too quietly.

  “I don’t know what your problem is.”

  “Jiyong,” she said. “Just don’t.”

  “Fine,” he muttered, though he still didn’t understand.

  If he had to look cute to save everyone, he’d look cute. If he had to beg, he’d beg. If he had to steal or cheat or lie, he’d steal or cheat or lie. As far as he could tell, he’d do anything. Maybe that made him dishonorable. Maybe it made him monstrous like a Winter Snake. He didn’t care. Roz had smarts and Sally had dreams, but Ji only had them, and he couldn’t imagine a line he wouldn’t cross for them.

  When they finished filling the pack, Roz scooped ant lions onto the dirt. “Is that all of you, Nin? Are you comfortable?”

  We’re snug as a rugbug!

  Ji grabbed the straps. “Now let’s go.”