by Lam, Laura
After all the tricks were done, Drystan returned, dressed as Maske’s supposed long-dead relative. ‘You see,’ he said, with a sweep of his cloak. ‘Destiny cannot be denied. A magician I was, and a magician you are.’
Maske bowed to his ‘great-great-grandfather’, and Drystan bowed back. The curtains fell.
Everyone broke into applause, but my eyes didn’t leave the Princess. The dark ringlets of her hair bounced as she clapped. Her smile was wide. That was what I’d wanted. To make her as happy as she’d been the day of the magicians’ duel, rather than the sombre girl who had walked in here.
After we’d bowed and left the stage, we packed up our gear.
‘I miss our theatre,’ Maske said glumly.
‘I know,’ I said. We all did. ‘How much longer until the repairs are finished on the Kymri?’
‘Another month at least,’ he said. ‘And it’ll cost every copper we made on the sale of the Spectre Theatre. I’ll never short-change my insurance again.’
‘Good call.’
When we finished packing, we mingled in the ballroom. The nobility came to congratulate us on the performance. Maske glowed in the approval of such illustrious company.
We ate a few of the leftover treats, but before long most of the guests left to attend the main feast. Maske had been invited to join them, but not us.
The Steward was about to leave for the feast, but paused with the Princess, accompanied as always by her guards, and Pozzi to speak to us.
‘That was an excellent—’ the Steward began, and then stopped short, staring at the Princess in dismay. She’d gone rigid, hands against her sides, mouth open as if in a silent scream.
‘I’m sorry, Uncle,’ she gasped. ‘I’ve been trying to contain it all night, but—’
The Steward ran to her, but he was too late. The Princess fell to her knees, and her skin shimmered as it had on the day of our rehearsal.
Drystan, Cyan, and I all froze. Around my neck, my Glamour grew hot, and then there was a snap of pressure. Drystan’s disguise was gone, as mine must be. Guards surged forward, grabbing our upper arms in case we were a threat to the Princess.
Her disguise was gone as well.
She sprawled on the ground, panting. The Glamour hidden under her own dress had fallen out, swinging from a gold chain around her neck.
No longer was she the girl with pink cheeks and dark ringlets. Instead her skin was tinged cobalt blue, smooth and poreless. Her hair was short, dark blue stubble against her scalp. Her features were sharper – the blades of her cheekbones, her brow, her pointed chin. Her eyes were all pupil, with no whites or irises. She grimaced and her teeth were sharp, the canines pointed. Though the same height as her Glamour image, her neck and fingers were thinner, her limbs more slender.
The Steward looked unchanged. Either his Glamour had held, or he didn’t require one.
‘Lord and Lady,’ Drystan breathed. Pozzi knelt beside the Princess, prepping a syringe. He was not surprised. Cyan, Drystan, and I exchanged a look. It was Elixir.
I decided to chance reaching out to Pozzi with my mind – the first time I had ever willingly chosen to do so. Is she the same as me? Is she Chimaera? Yet I had sensed no warmth from her, as I did with Chimaera.
No. He pushed me out of his mind completely, as if slamming a door in my face.
The Steward watched the doctor avidly as he tapped the air bubbles from the syringe and pressed the needle into the crook of the Princess’s arm. Her head lolled back, and she panted loudly. Even her tongue was tinged blue.
If she wasn’t Chimaera, what was she?
I couldn’t help but be glad that Maske wasn’t here for this. The three of us were used to bizarre sights, but we’d protected him from the strangeness of the world as much as we could.
The medicine began to take hold over the Princess. The lines on her forehead smoothed. She rested her head against Pozzi’s shoulder for a moment, gathering strength.
Then she looked up at us and met our gazes. I kept my face blank. She wasn’t repulsive. On the contrary, she had an ethereal sort of beauty, as if she were a strange, fey creature of old. . . and the fey were based on the . . .
Alder, Cyan whispered in our minds.
I should have seen it. The Alder had created the Chimaera, possibly the humans, and the Vestige we now depended upon. They’d vanished without a trace centuries ago. Some said they died with the Chimaera, but I knew from Anisa’s visions that they’d disappeared into the stars. The Princess looked a little like the Alder I’d seen in those visions. Two Alder had come to give Anisa the charge of a small Kedi, Dev, untold centuries ago. Yet the Princess looked far more human than those two tall creatures had.
The guards stared straight ahead, as if they saw this sort of thing every day. Perhaps they did.
I chanced another look at the Steward. He still looked the same, and I spied no chain around his neck. No – there was a change. The barest darkening of his eyes, a blue tinge to his fingers, his fingernails a deep purple, almost black.
Our monarchy was not human, and they were not Chimaera. What were they?
‘You cannot say a word about this to anyone,’ the Steward of Ellada said, looking at us. ‘Not a word.’
He’s wondering if he should kill us to keep the secret, Cyan said.
You maybe didn’t need to share that with us right this very moment. I wanted to throw up.
‘They’re trustworthy,’ Pozzi assured him, and the Steward gave us another considering look.
The Princess held the Glamour pendant in her blueish fingers, turning it over. ‘It’s broken,’ she whispered.
‘We have others,’ her uncle said, kneeling down beside her. His voice was gruff, cold. It chilled me. The Princess’s brow furrowed, and she looked as if she would cry.
She looked up at me with her midnight-dark gaze. I can’t cry, she thought at me clearly, gesturing to her strange eyes.
No one else heard her but me. I couldn’t even feel surprised. She’d just been dosed with Elixir and could speak mind-to-mind, like Chimaera. Did the Elixir strengthen any abilities she had, like it did mine?
‘It’ll be easier to keep them quiet, considering who and what they are,’ Pozzi said.
The Steward gave him a sharp look.
Don’t, I sent to Pozzi, but it bounced uselessly off his walls.
‘There’s a few reasons I’d trust them,’ he continued, smiling serenely. ‘One: they are Chimaera, the Anthi kind, and are hiding their nature after the attacks on the three creatures near the Celestial Cathedral. Two: these ones –’ he gestured at Drystan and me – ‘are the escaped clowns from the circus at the end of last summer.’
‘The ones who set off the Penglass?’ The Steward bristled, taking a step back. The guards gripped us tighter, until I winced. ‘And you knew both these facts and still brought them here to perform in front of Princess Nicolette?’
The Princess looked at us in fear, her eyes wide.
‘Micah is a patient, and thus I protected him under doctor-patient confidentiality. The Penglass behaved strangely, but there have been no other occurrences,’ Pozzi said smoothly. ‘If they say anything, we can expose who and what they are, and no one would believe the word of felons. They have no proof, and you know how the public currently feel about Chimaera.’
The Steward’s jaw worked. ‘Well I do. I should never have let them speak to the people. A moment of weakness. Or a hope that if they’d accept those three, they’d perhaps accept us, if they discovered what we truly were.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘We cannot afford even rumours.’
‘We’ll do more for you than keep our silence,’ Drystan said. ‘We’ll do everything within our power to help you, however the crown needs.’ As ever, Drystan was quick to find a way to turn the situation to our advantage. Or, at least, for us not to be killed or thrown into prison.
The Steward didn’t dismiss the offer out of hand, which I found interesting. He could have scoffed and called us children, bu
t he didn’t. He instead considered us honestly: the students of Jasper Maske, the greatest magician in Ellada. Able to gain entry to the most prestigious houses, as well as the parlours of lower merchants. Good enough to entertain royalty.
I hated that Pozzi had thrown down the chips of our past on whatever he was betting.
‘This one is strong, even stronger than the others,’ Pozzi said, gesturing at me.
What others? I knew of Frey, but his powers were far stronger than mine. Was Pozzi protecting Frey? Cyan was also stronger than me, and hopefully adept enough at hiding her powers that Pozzi didn’t know all she could do.
The Steward nodded. ‘The Princess’s life is in your hands, then. For if word of this reached the Kashura, they would find a way to expose her. Us. And the Ellada you know would crumble to dust in a heartbeat.’
He knew the true name of the Foresters’ violent arm. ‘But what is going on?’ I asked, finding my voice.
The Steward hesitated.
‘You can trust them, Uncle,’ the Princess said, her voice ringing with the prescient certainty I had heard sometimes from Anisa. The Chimaera was in her Aleph, hidden within one of the cases below stage. I was sure she was listening, waiting, watching, as ever.
The Steward gave the slightest nod. The guards released me, Drystan, and Cyan. My upper arms tingled unpleasantly.
‘I’m part Alder,’ she said. ‘All of the Snakewood family is.’ She was only seven, but she sounded older, as if in shedding her disguise she had also shed the persona of a young child. ‘Centuries passed and we started looking human again, just like you. But then, a few generations ago, it started changing. I look more different than my parents, or so my Uncle says.’ Her parents had died before she could even hope to remember them.
Part Alder. I remembered what I’d read in one of Professor Cedar’s books in the Kymri Theatre library:
They say magic left the world with the Chimaera and the Alder. Whether they perished or abandoned us for the stars, the magic has leeched from the earth and left us only its scattered remnants. Its Vestige. They say perhaps, if the Chimaera and the Alder ever return, magic will as well.
I supposed magic was as good an explanation as any for what we could do.
‘I’ve always had to wear these. Even when I was a baby,’ the Princess continued, holding the broken Glamour in her hands.
She’d always had to hide. Always had to hide the truth. Like Lily Verre’s son, Frey. Like I had to, in a way.
If someone had found out about me, the worst that would have likely befallen me was that I wouldn’t have been able to marry. She could lose a crown, maybe even her life. It was all too easy to imagine her and Frey hated and hurt because they looked physically different, like Juliet and her two friends.
The Elixir in her veins had taken full effect on the Princess. Power emanated from her. She was just as strong as Frey, if not more so.
‘Are the other Alder really gone, then?’ Cyan asked.
‘As far as we know, we’re the last. I suspect there may be more in hiding, their abilities latent,’ the Princess said.
Just like the Chimaera are hiding, I thought.
‘Do you feel better, my Princess?’ Pozzi asked. ‘Any ill effects?’
‘I’m quite all right, thank you, Royal Physician,’ she said, primly. ‘I am very hungry, though.’
The Steward laughed, but it was hollow and didn’t reach his eyes. He nodded to one of the guards, who turned smartly on his heel and left. The Steward took the Princess’s hand.
‘Come, then. Let’s take you to your rooms, and your maid will bring you up a tray.’ The Princess’s hand was lax in his, as if she’d pull away if she could.
He looked at us again. ‘I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon. I may have need of you.’
He’s thinking that we could perform for people and then report back all we see and hear, Cyan reported. She could read the Steward’s mind more easily than that of his Royal Physician. Cyan was being delicate. The Steward wanted us to spy for the crown. Life was never dull for us, that was certain.
‘Goodbye,’ the Princess said. ‘I did enjoy your magic show very much.’ She paused. ‘And thank you for not screaming. Once, a maid saw me and she shrieked so loudly I thought my ears would burst.’
The Steward’s jaw tightened. I wondered what had happened to the maid.
A guard returned with a small bag, which he passed to the Steward with a deep bow. The Steward opened it and put the new Glamour around the Princess’s neck. She closed her eyes and concentrated. The blue tinge faded from her skin. Dark hair grew from her scalp in a bristle and then lengthened into ringlets that fell to the shoulders. She appeared to gain enough flesh that she no longer looked as frail. Her eyes transformed from all black to bright green, eyebrows appearing above them as if drawn on.
‘That’s . . . not how Glamours usually work,’ I managed. They usually had to be pre-programmed, and it took ages to get them right. When they were turned on, the new illusion settled over your skin in an instant, rather than almost . . . growing on, as it had with the Princess.
‘I can control it myself, even a little without the Glamour, sometimes,’ the Princess said. ‘It helps me concentrate, though. Good evening, and thank you again.’
We bowed low, grateful it helped hide our incredulous faces. They took their leave of us, a few guards remaining. The future monarch and her Steward were human and Alder. If the world were to find out, Ellada could well descend into chaos. Some would worship them as gods or saints. Others would seek to destroy them. I had no idea what the Kashura would do. Chimaera, they hated, but they’d named themselves after an Alder group. What of the royal families in the other islands – were they the same? Alder, Chimaera, Kashura. As if the past were repeating itself again.
The guards stood, still as if made from stone. I was uncomfortable that they had witnessed the whole scene. Pozzi noticed my nervous gaze.
They won’t remember any of this, he sent me.
I flinched at him in my mind, but I was curious enough to answer: what?
Palace guards agree to look at a Lethe after any shift where they overhear any secrets. That’ll happen on this day for certain.
I shuddered. A Lethe was a pendant, often with a stylized snake on its face, and it could erase memories. Whoever held the Lethe controlled which memories were affected. If the person didn’t know how it worked or was overly reckless, they could take too much, leaving the victim hollowed out. The thought that the palace guards would willingly give up their memories and trust whoever held the Lethe . . .
‘I think it’s time for you three to head home,’ Pozzi said. ‘It’s certainly been an interesting evening.’
‘That it has,’ Drystan said. He and Cyan went to gather our cases and ask the guards to send for a carriage.
‘You told him our secrets,’ I said to Pozzi, anger returning.
‘I had to. And I’d do well to remind you that, as a citizen of Ellada, your allegiance is to the crown as well, is it not?’
I didn’t answer.
‘If he didn’t know you were useful to him, then you’d be staring into the red eyes of a Lethe right now. I trust you know not to breathe a word of this to anyone.’
‘Of course we do,’ Drystan drawled, coming back into the room. ‘We’re not about to tell a country on the brink of civil unrest that their royalty isn’t even human.’
‘They are human. Just a touch Alder as well. I hope you’ll forgive me telling him, but he is, after all, my employer and regent of the land. He’s irritated at me for having kept secrets from him before. I assure you, what I did will work out best for all concerned.’
Or best for yourself? I thought, but tried to keep the thought from him.
‘Good evening. I’ll see you in a few days, Micah.’ He took his leave.
Drystan and I lingered in the room a moment. I reached out to him, and we pressed our foreheads together. His Glamour hung from his neck. Neither of us
had bothered turning them back on. What was the point? We’d been wearing false faces for too long, anyway. When we performed magic again, we’d find a way to shed them, and I’d be glad of it.
Yet Drystan reached over and switched my pendant on.
‘For tonight, at least, we should keep this. If we leave the palace with different faces than we had on entering, people may notice.’ With a sigh, he turned his on as well. Our features shifted, ever so slightly.
‘Not as elegant as the Princess,’ I said.
‘No.’
The door opened and we broke apart, expecting to see Maske or Cyan. Instead, a very different face appeared: Lord Nigel Hornbeam.
He seemed surprised to see us. Drystan was tense beside me.
‘Shouldn’t you have gone by now?’ he asked, haughty and superior. ‘Where have the Princess and the Steward gone?’
‘They just left, my lord,’ Drystan said, his voice strained, giving a little bow.
Nigel Hornbeam’s brow furrowed.
‘You should probably be on your way, then. It was a nice performance. I’m not usually one for magic, but it was clever.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ Drystan managed. How many years since he’d last spoken to his father? Five or more.
Nigel Hornbeam turned his back on his son and left him, all without knowing who he was actually talking to.
‘Drystan . . .’ I began.
‘Let’s get back to the others,’ he said, curtly.
I followed him, wanting to offer comfort, but unsure how.
We finished packing up our magic supplies and left the Royal Snakewood Palace behind.
That night, I woke up to the sound of Drystan sobbing.
I’d not been asleep long. Drystan lay propped up against the pillows. He’d brought up a bottle of port from the kitchen, and he’d made good work of it, judging by how little liquid remained.
He’d been crying for some time. His nose and eyes were red, his cheeks damp.
I didn’t say anything, just opened my arms. He drained the last of the port and set the empty glass on the bedside table with a clatter.