I opened my eyes. No glowing fingertips, no flowers. Nothing but a bit of loose thread that looked as though it had unraveled from the bottom of my dress. Half my mouth felt numb. Before me, the archimandrite stood with her arms out, palms up, eyes closed. Something thick and black oozed from her mouth, dripping off her chin and coalescing on the floor in a sludge. She began to sway. Was that what a message from the goddess ought to look like?
I checked myself for sludginess, or murmuring voices, or anything. All I heard was the wind whistling through gaps in the ice. All I saw was the archimandrite. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe that explained the way the archimandrite seemed to sway. Maybe it explained the way the threads on the ground turned to ice and began to grow, pressing in on my dress, swirling into shapes reminiscent of thorns.
By the time the archimandrite opened her eyes and wiped the sludge from her chin, the ice had come up to my shoulders, and I was no longer convinced it was a hallucination. “Sjiotha has spoken,” she said in a raw voice.
She has? I shook out my arms and shoulders. The ice around me broke with a delicate tinkle. “What did she say?”
“You could win her favor, but she needs a declaration of devotion to her cause. A new bell tower, with new bells.”
Give her what she wants. “Fine,” I said, hoping Minister Bailli wouldn’t start with some When your father was grand duke speech.
“She requires twenty pounds of raw magic as well.”
“Okay.” That was going to cause an uproar on the council.
“And I want to sit on your council. And reinstate the warriors of Sjiotha.”
I laughed. My great-grandfather had disbanded the warriors of Sjiotha when they’d tried to overthrow him. They’d nearly outnumbered the men in our standing army—hardly a feat, to be fair—and the religious tithe they’d collected from the craftsmen of Kylma had been good for no one but the archimandrite. “No on the warriors. I’ll think about putting you on the council.”
The archimandrite didn’t join me in my mirth. “This is not a negotiation, Your Grace. Either you do it, or…”
But grand dukes didn’t bow to others. “You don’t get to threaten me. I’m not going to buy the duchy; I’m going to earn it.”
“What makes you think those two things are different?” The archimandrite moved away from the black mess on the floor, tapping her staff as she walked. Each little clink bounced off the walls. “Three grand dukes I have crowned. Don’t presume you know better than me.”
Except those three dukes had been up against minor officials and dummy contestants in the coronation trials. The archimandrite knew I was desperate. She knew she could push for more. And maybe she thought my inexperience would mean I wouldn’t consider the consequences.
“You’re my equal, but not my better,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “We can make arrangements, or you can see how respectful a Drysian king will be of our Kylmian goddess.”
“Did you truly murder your family so you could end your reign feuding with the church?” the archimandrite spat.
“Call me a murderer one more time,” I growled through gritted teeth.
The archimandrite waved her hand. “Grand dukes come and go. We keep the Snowmount eternal. With you or with another.”
I made fists of my shaking hands. Give her what she wants. Eirhan would be so angry with me. “We can make a provisional agreement. I’ll speak with the council and see what kind of tithe—”
“You agree now, or you fail the trial,” the archimandrite said. “And all of Kylma will know it.”
We didn’t speak on the way back to the shrine of Sjiotha. Inkar paced in front of the eternal flame. She came to stand beside me, and though I felt her eyes on me, I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze.
“Best of luck,” the archimandrite said in a voice of snow and stone.
The air bit at us as we left the Snowmount. People craned their necks to see around us. Murmurs ran through the crowd, then dropped to an uncomfortable silence when they realized the archimandrite wouldn’t emerge. The world was reduced to the creak of the ice and the groan of the wind.
Sigis stood by his horse, having eschewed a trip via sled. When we heard, at long last, the tap of the archimandrite’s staff behind us, he handed his reins to an attendant and strode up the stairs without looking at us. He sank to his knees, taking the archimandrite’s hand and bowing his head to the proper ring finger. “It has been too long since I’ve profaned the altar of Sjiotha with my prayers.”
“Some atonement is surely in order.” The archimandrite spoke to him as she would speak to a favorite son. She urged him to his feet, and they went inside.
I drew my cloak around Inkar and pulled it tight, as though I could keep the fire that had ignited in me from bursting out. My limbs shook. The whole world was that one point, the door through which two traitors had gone. “Please do not pull me over,” said Inkar. I let go of the cloak a hair, and she nodded. “Perhaps we should go back? I am cold, and I do not think we can do any more good here.”
“Yes.” Father would pretend as though everything that had happened was planned. Well, either that or tear down the Snowmount, and I didn’t think I could get away with that. Not with the whole city watching me. I let Inkar guide me down the steps and onto the dogsled.
The dogs brought us around, and we began to trot back up the boulevard toward the walls of the palace. “Perhaps it is for the best,” Inkar said. “I have never wanted to adopt a religion merely to impress someone else.”
Religion, food, and horses. The annoy-Inkar list grew.
The crowd on the road to either side was silent, and I did not find that to be a comfort. Why didn’t anyone cheer for me?
Have you ever given them a reason to? Maybe I should hand Sigis the throne. But that image, of Sigis sitting snug and smug in my father’s chair, lit a fire in me. I couldn’t let him win. I couldn’t be the one who caved in to his invasion after centuries of independence. And I certainly wouldn’t do it without a war. That chair was our gift, our right, our responsibility. And grand dukes didn’t shy from responsibility.
But my chances in the coronation trials didn’t look good. If I couldn’t change the archimandrite’s mind, I’d have to win the next two trials.
Or I’d have to stop the coronation trials in their tracks.
I knew my family had been cursed via magic. I knew where we stored it, too. Every single shipment, whether it consisted of a pearl or a barrel, had to be approved to leave the royal treasury.
When we arrived at the kennels, my knees were stiff and my hands had frozen around the bar of the sled. My bad temper wrapped around me like a shroud.
Eirhan appeared before I’d even gotten off the sled. “Give her what she wants, I said. What did you fail to grasp about that?”
“Nothing.” I pulled the ribbon of my cloak and let it fall around Inkar.
“Then how have you failed to win the simplest of the coronation trials?” he snapped.
Grand dukes didn’t bear the brunt of their subordinates’ attitudes. “Shut up,” I told him, and was satisfied to see his mouth fall open a fraction. “Get my guard.”
Viljo hopped off his sled. “I am here, Your Grace.”
“No,” I said, turning the impatience in my voice to iron. “Get the entire guard.” Grand dukes made grand gestures, after all.
Minister Bailli found me as I was trying to get Viljo to kick down the door of the treasury. He stopped in the middle of the hall, and Minister Urso and his secretary walked right into Bailli’s back. “What are you doing?” Bailli wiped his head. “Your Grace,” he added, as though it would soften his insubordinate tone.
“Give me your key,” I said.
“I… what?” His hand went to his belt, touching the large iron ring of keys.
“Your key,” I snarled.
“I… what need does Your Grace have of entering the treasury?” Bailli blustered. The iron grips on his shoes chipped the ice as he shif
ted from foot to foot.
“I’m the grand duke, and I want to,” I said.
For a moment, I thought Bailli would refuse me, but I didn’t care. I had a dozen guards who would arrest him on the spot. A moment later, he moved forward, coat swaying, shoulders hunched, and head down. He pushed past me and inserted his key into the lock.
The crowd behind us doubled. I saw Eirhan against the wall, brows drawn together in worry. Reko leaned next to him, arms folded, smiling like a fox that had come upon a goose with a broken leg. “A dictator’s first move is always to seize the means of power,” he remarked.
The door swung open. Viljo and another guard shoved past Bailli.
The treasury’s front office was lined with oak shelves weighed down by book after book of accounts. A desk sat in the corner, drawers open and half-filled with papers and books. I picked up a ledger and began to flip through it.
Bailli’s jowls quivered with rage. The guards stood awkwardly, awaiting some order. “Take it all,” I said. I turned to Bailli. “We’ll be running an audit on your accounts.”
Bailli’s chest puffed out. “How dare you? No Avenko has audited me, not in thirty years.”
“Every account from the past year,” I said. If the curse had been intentional, it would have been made from refined magic my father had prepared for export. And the newer it was, the stronger.
I closed the ledger. “We need access to the treasury itself.”
His black eyes flashed. “That’s too far.” He crossed his arms. “I still consider your father to be the grand duke. I follow him, not you. And only on his order will I open the treasury.”
Bailli was a foot taller than me, but I could tell he feared me from the way his throat bobbed, from the way his chest stopped moving. “Resist if you like. I don’t need you to open the treasury. Maybe I don’t need you to be treasurer at all.”
I unclipped the keys from his belt myself. It felt strangely intimate, for all the air between us buzzed with fear and growing anger. Two days ago, I barely knew Bailli’s name, and now I was fumbling at his waist. Heat burned in my cheeks, and I didn’t look at him as I made my way toward the door leading to the treasury’s vaults.
The door was of iron and wood. Five locks separated me from the goods inside, and the guards gathered behind me as I went through key after key.
At last, one of the keys turned and opened on a long, dark hall. As a guard went down the wall, lighting sconces, he revealed a neat, bare room stacked with cloth, barrels of grain and beer and preserved meat, furs and leathers—all of which belonged to the grand duke.
And, of course, the magic. The magic sat at the far end, in small barrels of the darkest wood. “Which of these were treated and refined by my father?” I asked.
“You can’t possibly want to open them,” Bailli said.
“Of course not.” That came from Eirhan. He gathered the guards with a twist of his hand. “Collect the magic, both raw and refined. We’ll keep it in my personal safe.”
The guards picked up the barrels and filed out, and with that my power was gutted. “I need access to any magic my father might have treated,” I said.
“Why?” Eirhan tucked a stray lock of greasy hair behind his ear.
Now wasn’t the time to talk about how the whole family had been cursed. But when I didn’t respond, Eirhan’s mouth twitched. “Anything Your Grace needs can be discussed at a more… private time?”
I didn’t sigh. Eirhan might have thought he’d won the round, but I’d find some way around his guard. To please the spectators, I said, “Take the books to my rooms. If Minister Bailli tries to interfere, arrest him.”
Bailli’s face was so red I thought it would burst. His eyes glittered with rage. I passed him without saying another word, and he did not speak to me.
At long last, someone was taking me seriously.
CHAPTER NINE
Eirhan imposed himself upon me as Aino helped me change for dinner. “Bailli has always been a staunch monarchist. You may have done the only thing that could push him toward supporting a parliament,” he said as I dressed behind a screen.
“We needed the information in the treasury.” I stepped into a cream-colored dress with gold embroidery and fur edging. “Grand dukes don’t ask.”
“Nor do they throw temper tantrums,” Eirhan said.
I snorted at that. Father’s rage was powerful, but it was still a tantrum. And Lyosha had been worse.
“What are you looking for, exactly?”
Like I’d tell you. He’d already seized the evidence; if he knew what I was searching for, he could destroy it. Could Eirhan be in on a plot against my family?
When I didn’t answer, he sighed. “If you can’t come up with a reasonable explanation for confiscating every drop of magic in the treasury, you’ll face outrage.”
“I’ll be fine.” I grunted as Aino pulled the back of my dress closed to button it. I’d present my evidence when I was good and ready.
“Sigis and Reko will use the incident to strengthen their positions,” Eirhan added.
I sighed. “Why did Father never get rid of Reko?” How did he end up as my problem?
“Your father and Reko had a friendship that… transcended politics.” Eirhan sounded as though the very idea was offensive. “Kamen thought more like Reko when he first took the throne. But people change, and Kamen and Reko changed in different directions.”
“Would Reko consider forcing an issue like parliament?” By, say, cursing my entire family?
“He has the political motive, but he isn’t whom I’d suspect first. The problem is, your tantrum in the treasury put Reko and Bailli on the same side for the first time in over a decade.”
“So Bailli will turn into a populist?” I closed my eyes so that Aino could apply kohl.
“Doubtful. But perhaps he’ll consider alternative options for a grand duke. Ones that have spent the day charming the archimandrite, for example.”
Right. The ever-present problem of Sigis.
“This is why you need to follow my lead. You don’t know what you don’t know.”
“I don’t,” I agreed with a sigh. And I don’t know anything about you.
“Now, for the matter of dinner,” Eirhan said.
“I suppose I’m sitting with Sigis again?”
“You are. And please try to keep your wife under control tonight.”
“I can’t force her to behave,” I protested. Nor did I want her to.
“If she oversteps her bounds, we might have an excuse to dismiss her, so I suppose things could be worse. As for your other needs, keep away from the archimandrite. She’s furious. And try to keep her away from Sigis, too. Rafyet’s been pushing for a fishing agreement, so it’s best not to speak with him until you have all the details. Reko will use whatever ammunition he can against you, and he’ll no doubt try to goad you into saying something stupid.” Eirhan paused. I could imagine him thinking It wouldn’t be that hard. “Bailli will probably avoid you as much as you need to avoid him. I have no idea what Itilya thinks, so whatever you do, don’t offend her. Actually, don’t talk to her, either.”
“Is there anyone I am allowed to talk to?” I said, coming out from behind the screen.
“I’m sure the delegates will be clamoring.” Eirhan clasped his hands. “As long as you avoid sensitive topics and remember everyone’s name, you should manage. Oh, and keep Inkar from charming them.”
“I have an idea,” I said. “Why don’t you send my dinner to the laboratory, and I can work on finding the cure with Farhod?” Or I could visit Below. An unfinished note to Meire was stuffed in a drawer of my desk. I’d been trying for an hour to ask her the secrets of magic, and I still couldn’t formulate my request correctly.
“Please try to take this seriously,” Eirhan said in a long-suffering voice.
“I am,” I protested. Eirhan didn’t want me to speak with anyone. And he wanted me to control my wife. And he wanted me to make Sigis happy. He wan
ted me to do everything short of swim the moat naked. “No one wants me around. The least I could do is try to bring back someone they do want.”
Eirhan hesitated. “Your father… is not necessarily wanted,” he said carefully. “But he could maintain control. If you can do the same, you’ll survive.”
I didn’t want to survive. I wanted to thrive. I wanted to do so far away. Find the cure, and you will, I promised myself, and pretended not to see the strain around Aino’s face as she pushed the screen aside and began to sort through my gold and diamonds.
“I have brought in doctors from the city,” Eirhan continued as Aino slid jewelry through the holes in my earlobes and draped it around my neck. “They’ll be of great help to Minister Farhod, I’m sure.”
Doctors. Under Eirhan’s pay, no doubt, who would report findings to him.
The door to my antechamber opened. “I am ready to try more terrible fish foods,” Inkar called from the other side. I buried my smile before Eirhan or Aino could scold me for it.
Eirhan rose. “Are you ready?”
“Nearly.” Aino pulled my braid back. “One last time, Ekata. Von der Pahlen,” she said.
“From Birustra. Wearing red and silver. Tall, pale, and old.”
She tugged gently on my braid in approval. “Arlendt.”
“Natterdalen. Wearing blue and yellow. Pale hair, enormous nose, and old.”
“Good,” Eirhan said. “Ngamo?”
“Osethi. Very tall. Bards probably sing about his mustache. Old.” I turned my head up to stick my tongue out at Aino. She pushed me straight again, but not before I caught her smile.
“Triadus?” Aino prompted.
“Um…” I wrinkled my nose as she finished lacing up my back. “This is a trick one, isn’t it?”
“No. He’s a cousin,” she said.
“The one who paid for the ring wall.”
“No.”
“The one who married the second Prince of Anbertane and is living in exile in Trollundheim?” I guessed.
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