The Winter Duke

by Claire Eliza Bartlett

  “What’s important is what you want—support. Yannush and Urso have simple needs, which means it was easy to secure their help against Reko.”

  Bribery. “No wonder you let me go so easily.”

  “Your Grace?” I was no expert in all things Eirhan, but his voice sounded as if he’d chipped it off the palace walls.

  I didn’t care. I was the grand duke, not him. “Was that your plan? To make deals behind my back while I was trying to save the duchy?” My heart stuttered. “Did they offer you something?”

  We were silent for a moment. Eirhan’s voice was far too quiet when he answered me. “They offered support. For you.”

  For me, or for him? I couldn’t know. Eirhan had ensured I wasn’t there to hear what they said. I willed my heart to slow down. “I thought you told the court they could apply to meet with me. Do I not have to be at a meeting in order for it to be a meeting with me?”

  Eirhan’s face broke into an expression of incredulous disdain. It was the sort of expression Father would have executed a man for giving him. But it stole my voice, and the fire from my belly, and left me ashamed and weak. “Over two hundred people are clamoring to see you. Do you really think His Grace your father took every petty request, settled every tiny argument, heard the inconsequential grievances of every single person who wanted to speak with him? You don’t run a country by yourself. You trust others to help you.”

  “Don’t lecture me,” I snapped. “Ruling is in my blood.”

  “Is it?” Eirhan picked up a stack of papers and selected a single sheet from among them. “Your tutors reported abominable skills in political affairs, a complete lack of interest in getting along with everyone from new acquaintances to your closest siblings, and an inability to play an instrument, sing, recite poetry, or be otherwise charming in public.” He regarded me with cold eyes. “Politics requires a finesse you don’t have.”

  My skin was on fire. Part of me wanted to rage at him, part of me wanted to cry. Part of me wanted to run. All of me prickled with humiliation.

  He wasn’t wrong. I’d never sought to be a politician, a performer, or even nice. And now I needed to be all those things.

  I wondered what would happen if I ordered Viljo to kill Eirhan on the spot. Probably nothing.

  Eirhan tucked a greasy lock of hair behind his ear. “You can learn all these things if you pay close attention and let me help you. It’s not your fault you’ve been thrown into a delicate situation with no training.” He rubbed at one eye, the first sign of discomfort I’d seen since he stormed into my rooms. “Yannush and Urso are powerful men, and Reko’s been pushing for a parliament for years. This disaster could turn them to his side—or we can secure their loyalty and ensure your stability. If, somehow, your father never wakes, you will need to be a more attractive choice than Reko’s revolution. You will need to be competent and strong, and you will need a competent and strong ruling machine. If we play to your strengths and to mine, we can ensure that you remain grand duke as long as you are needed—and that when you step down, there is some place for you among the living.”

  He had a point. Once Father and Lyosha woke up, they were more likely to see me as a rival for the throne than a member of the family. All the same, Eirhan was conveniently installing himself as the most important, most competent man in the duchy. As the man I couldn’t afford to cross. But he might be the man I needed.

  “All right.” It felt more like a grumble than a graceful concession. “But you can’t make decisions without asking me first.”

  “I never would, Your Grace. Perhaps we can begin our politics lessons by discussing the implications of what Yannush and Urso were hoping to get out of supporting you? Yannush is the foreign minister; Urso, the minister of trade. They work closely together to determine the demand for our goods and to determine the number of foreign traders who can enter Kylma Above. What they most want now is to relax policies your father put in place, which made it more difficult for foreign merchants to enter the city and buy magic.”

  I held back the urge to yawn. “Fine,” I said, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Aino stiffen. “I mean—did Father know? What was his position on this?” I didn’t want him waking up to discover I’d ruined everything in his absence.

  “Your father believed that a man-made shortage of refined magic would keep it at a high value. He also required foreign traders to buy a certain amount of goods from Above if they wanted the right to buy goods from Below. And naturally, he favored our own merchants over outsiders.”

  I tried to wrap my head around the deluge of words. “So if we relax the policies on trade, as Yannush and Urso want, Father will be angry?”

  “This is only the start of the discussion, Your Grace. We’ve promised nothing yet, but we’ll keep Yannush and Urso on your hook. Any parliament they backed would have to be established before new trade agreements could be ratified, and that could take much longer and be much less fruitful. And if your father wakes within the week, they’ll hardly want to pretend they treated you like a duke.”

  I had one advantage over Eirhan: He didn’t realize we weren’t dealing with illness. “So what does that mean?” I said, trying to keep my expression neutral. This was somewhat ruined by the fact that my eyelids stuck together every time I blinked, and my stomach flipped sourly.

  “It means you need to read up on trade and be prepared to discuss options at a cabinet meeting. Now, Minister Itilya and Minister Rafyet—I’m sorry, Your Grace, am I boring you?”

  Yes. I didn’t say it. I was busy looking at the smooth black bowl on the corner of the table, polished as a mirror, and the water that swirled inside it as though stirred by an invisible hand.

  I wasn’t supposed to know what it was. It was a messenger bowl, and I’d been using them for years.

  Messenger bowls sat in all the state rooms, filled with a water that never froze. My earring had fallen into one at a party, and I spent the evening hiding from my mother in the family library, afraid she’d accuse Aino of stealing it. Hours later, the water in the messenger bowl burbled, and I found my earring suspended in the water. As though someone had known I’d lost it and had known where to return it to me. It was only proper to write a thank-you as a lady of our house, and thus the correspondence had begun. I’d learned about the city Below, carved in black stone, warmed by hot water that jetted up from fissures in the lake floor. I learned about the battles citizens Below fought with beasts that lingered outside the city, using iron spears from Above. Notes came twice weekly and were always short, written on a waxy green paper with ink that never smudged. And no matter how I begged, nothing was sent besides letters. I had never even seen the hand that wrote them.

  “That was quick,” Eirhan murmured. “The duchy Below has realized there’s a new duke Above.”

  The water turned faster and faster. Something glinted at the bottom of the bowl, a flash of reflection. But as I watched, the flash came again and again. And then it wasn’t a flash at all, but a piece of debris caught up in the water. I reached in, gasping at the water’s cold bite, and pulled out a folded slip of green paper that was waxy to the touch. I angled away from Eirhan as I opened it. I’d assumed it would be from the same anonymous hand that had always written to me. But the handwriting in dark blue ink was unfamiliar and nearly illegible.

  We send our heartfelt condolences to Grand Duke Ekaterina Avenko regarding the health of her family. Please accept this invitation to receive further regards, in person, at the hour of half past one. Delegates will be waiting to escort you Below.

  Below. My heart squeezed strangely, painfully. Images of fishmen with spears, of glimmering magic, filled my mind. My skin grew cold, then hot, then cold again. “Below?”

  Eirhan leaned over my shoulder to read the note. His brow furrowed. “It’s traditional for new grand dukes to be received by Below. And it’s one thing I think you’ll be well suited for.”

  “You think I’d be good at something?” I asked flatly. />
  Eirhan’s smile seemed more polite than amused. “Your Grace will need to be aware that the grand duke Below is as masterful a politician as we are Above. He became angry when your father reduced the trade of magic, and we haven’t exchanged goods in some time. He will talk to you prettily and attempt to charm you into reversing your father’s policies. Promise him nothing.”

  We were under embargo, yet Eirhan thought I could manage the situation. My mind stalled. “I… can really go?”

  “Unless you’d like to meet the minister of agriculture with me?” Eirhan’s smile seemed almost kind. “I will have a gift arranged. You have twenty minutes to get ready. And…” He licked his lips. “I implore Your Grace not to be taken in by all the new things you see. Our relationship with Below is—”

  “Political. I understand.” I grabbed Aino’s hand.

  Below. A whole world that no one Above got to see. A world of flora and fauna that I would be the first to study. A place that held the secret to magic. A place that might know how my family had been cursed and how I could fix them.

  Below. Let Eirhan abuse his power while I was gone. I had to go Below.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The entrance to Below was a stone-lined room with a bench and steam room in the corner. In the center of the room, a circular hole had been cut in the three-foot ice sheet. Black water lapped at its edge, ripples hiding whatever lay beneath.

  “Your escort awaits you,” said Olloi, minister of Below. He looked as if he’d spent so much time observing fish he’d tried to become one. His long coat obscured his figure, and he seemed to sweep rather than walk around the room, so silent I almost bent down to see if he had fins or feet. He stared at me without blinking. I half expected his mouth to pucker.

  “What’s the protocol?” I asked as Aino braided my hair and loosened my gown. I couldn’t embarrass myself beneath the ice. I had to make a good impression so that they’d invite me back. So that I could see all there was to see, study all there was to study.

  Olloi stared at me a moment too long. Then he spoke, slowly, as though drawing the words out from a difficult place. “The duke Below is your elder, and he takes precedence. You are there by the grace of the citizens Below, so don’t be rude. Follow your escort, and do not stray to look at some interesting flower. Do not argue with anyone from Below.”

  The water before us bubbled. A dark, slick head emerged, covered in long scales that slid over its scalp like a mane. The face was more woman than fish: long, with sharp cheekbones that cut down toward her nose. Her large, dark eyes fixed upon me. They were mostly pupil, with a thin, gray iris. When she smiled, her teeth made little points and did not meet. I leaned forward to see if she had an extra set tucked in her gums. Aino hissed in a breath behind me, but the representative merely lifted a webbed hand and beckoned.

  My own breath caught. Below.

  Olloi handed me a bundle of electrum ingots—a gift for the duke. I belted them to my waist, sat on the ice, and slid one foot into the water. I’d been in the moat before, but you never truly got used to the shock of the cold.

  Aino’s hands lingered on my shoulders. I sent her what I hoped was a reassuring look, then levered myself off the ice shelf and dropped beneath the water’s surface.

  For a moment, panic rose with the shock of cold, carrying some memory that lurked right beyond my grasp. Then my escort ran a dark green finger down my forehead and over my nose and lips. The pressure on my lungs disappeared, and the intensity of the water lessened. My limbs became looser and my heart slowed to its normal beat.

  Above me, a solid white sheet—the ground floor of the palace—stretched out as far as I could see. Tiny fish nibbled at the algae that clung stubbornly to its underside, and farther away, larger shadows swam in the water. The surface of the ice was uneven, and I wondered if it was the weight of our lives that had caused it to buckle. I wondered what else grew on the bottom of the ice, and what else scavenged for its food up here.

  The fishwoman brought her legs forward and curled in on herself, touching her forehead to her knees. Their version of a bow, I supposed. It was rude to stare, but I followed her form as she uncurled, past the point where her trunk bifurcated and to her feet. Instead of toes, her skin fell away in long ribbons of fin that glinted silvery pink against the dark green of her body in the pale light under the ice. Her fingers were likewise long, longer than any human’s could be, and they ended with blunted tips like mine. She extended them toward me. “We may speak now. Welcome, Your Grace. My name is Meire, and it is a pleasure to meet you at long last.”

  Her smile did not seem so full of teeth this time. Something in her earnest, solemn eyes begged me to recognize her. At long last. “Did you… are you the one who wrote me letters?” I said.

  She dipped her bow again. “I begged my duke for the chance to be your guide. I look forward to showing you all the things you have wondered about.”

  And there were so many things. But what caught me first was the musical quality of her voice, lilting and distorted by the water. I’d expected her to… well, burble. “How can I hear you?”

  Something sparkled on the edges of her fingers. Magic. “Would you permit me to take you Below?” She took my hand.

  My legs kicked weakly. I couldn’t help staring at Meire’s legs, long and lean and powerful. Her toe-fins splayed wide to push the water. I felt like a doll being dragged by the arm. Maybe I could make something, some kind of flat web for my foot, something to make me swim more like her. The smoothness of Meire’s skin surprised me, too—the scales on her palm were so small and interlocked I could hardly tell where one ended and another began. The scales grew in size as they crept up her forearm, turning darker as they spread over her breasts and reached her sternum, until they were the deep green of algae.

  Above us, the ice sheet creaked. It diffused the sunlight, giving the lake a soft glow—but ten or fifteen feet down, the glow disappeared in the murky blue-black. “Where is this city you always wrote to me about?” I asked.

  “It is down, of course,” Meire said, and down we went.

  The water grew warmer and darker as we swam. Soon I could barely see Meire’s fingers wrapped around mine. Little eddies brushed across my skin, and I thought of the things that created currents like that. I craned my head, but it was useless. I was lost in a lake of ink, with Meire as my only lifeline.

  My finger brushed against something smooth and slick—something that flicked around my wrist and tugged. I gasped. Water filled my mouth, all salt and seaweed. Even though I didn’t have to breathe, I felt it in my lungs and coughed.

  Something flashed, a little stroke of light that illumined my wrist. The strand released its hold.

  “My apologies,” came Meire’s voice from the black beside me. “Can your kind not see in the dark?”

  “Not this dark.”

  “Permit me to help.” Meire found my loose hand and brushed her fingers over my knuckles. Something cold broke over my skin and I felt a strange jolt in my belly. A moment later, it began to glow in wide stripes where her fingers had connected.

  I held my hand up, squinting in the sudden brightness. Behind it, dark shapes pulled away, long tendrils whipping like shadows as they retreated. “What is this?”

  “I only gave you a little magic,” Meire said. I gasped again, and Meire’s head tilted as she watched me cough.

  “You gave me magic?” I sputtered.

  “Should I not have?” Meire didn’t frown, not as a human might, but her eyes widened in what might have been concern. “Is it bad for you?”

  “It’s—” I stared at the marks on my skin. Magic had been forbidden to us. Its combination of expense and volatility made it a poor choice of toy for fratricidal children. Why let us try to cram it down one another’s throats when Father could make pretty spells and sell it for a fortune instead? “I’ve never been given magic like it’s nothing.”

  “We have more than enough to give.” Meire tugged on my arm and le
d me farther down.

  More than enough. The thought of it was unfathomable. I’d never really considered what the citizens Below did with the magic they kept, but if they had so much they could waste it on turning my hand into a lamp… I’d have to ask Eirhan why Father had restricted magical imports so considerably.

  The light emanated from my hand with a strength that surprised me. “Did you know it would do this?”

  “Of course,” Meire said. “It does whatever I wish.”

  Questions rustled against the edges of my mind like the long fingers of the creatures around us. Why could anyone Below shape magic while only Father could Above? Was it an anatomical difference? Had we spent so much time relying on magic as a system of wealth, as a fancy toy, that we’d lost its actual purpose?

  I wanted to ask all my questions at once. Instead, we swam, and the things of the deep moved out of our way. I never saw more than a tail fin or a tentacle; even though I twisted and whipped my hand through the water, the creatures were always faster, shying away from the light.

  A pale green haze appeared in the gloom. As we drew near, the haze began to distinguish itself. Hundreds—no, thousands—of little spheres jostled one another as they moved with the current. In their light, I began to see new shadows in front of us that were less afraid of the light—long eels and teardrop-shaped fish with jutting teeth. A tendril drifted in front of my face, and Meire swatted it away. I twisted back to look at it but saw only darkness behind me. “What are they?”

  “You might call them sentries,” she said. “They ensure we are protected from any unwanted visitors.”

  “Can I—” I stopped just shy of saying take one.

  Meire looked at me as though she knew what I wanted. But she nudged the spheres aside and pulled me through. And we were inside the city Below.

  Meire’s descriptions of the city Below hardly did it justice. Slabs of black rock, shaped into curves by the current of the water, reflected the light. Spires twisted, buildings swelled and cut back like waves, and in open windows more spheres glowed. Coral bloomed along the crests of buildings. Schools of silver fish no larger than my fingernail nibbled at the algae growing over their surfaces. A shark half as large as me lurked in an alley between two smaller dwellings.