“Have you heard from the Prince?” Vi asks. “He’s on his way here. Horatio says he’s supposed to be at the docks now, since a ship from Marula pulled into port last night.”
“He’s here?”
Louisa and Drucilla live just above the docks. I glance back out the door, wondering if I would be able to see Rion’s ship from their house.
“I have to find him,” I say. I quickly put down the rag I’ve been using to mop up Ruston’s mess. “I have to see him and tell him what’s happened. If I know the Queen like I do, he might already think I’m dead.”
“Everyone thinks you are,” Vi says. “The Queen has been making arrangements for him to marry another princess.
“I heard,” I say. “Please, Vi, please, go and find Damaris. Tell her I’m alive, and if I can’t find Rion near the docks, I’ll need you to get him to come and find me.”
“Don’t tell me!” Vi scolds me. “If you say it, the Queen will be able to find you, too, and you know how she is, Ebony.”
“Ebony? What are you doing in there?” Louisa’s voice comes from the other side of the door as she knocks. “Dr. Bonpette says he needs you.”
“No!” Vi cries out, doing her best not to listen. I can see her ghostly hand appear as she tries to shut her ears off from sound.
“Go,” I whisper. “I will do my best to see you again soon.”
I don’t have to tell Vi a second time. She disappears from the other side of the mirror just as Louisa opens the door.
“Are you coming or not?” she asks. “I’ve heard the Maruli are lazy, not deaf.”
“Just trying to make sure the room is all clean for you, Miss Louisa,” I say, doing my best not to snap at her.
I follow her out to the living room, where Verna is talking with Ruston. She is here, and she is in her pants and shirt; the laces on her shoes are untied, and from Drucilla’s sickened expression, she has come quickly.
“I was rather hoping that these bursts of strange guests would discontinue,” she explains to me and Louisa as we approach.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Verna, why are you—”
“It’s Mama,” Verna says. There are tears in her eyes, and I realize now why she looks so disheveled.
“I was calling for you,” Ruston says to me. “We need to leave now.”
His voice breaks as he says, “Now,” and I know it’s serious. I think of Prudence and how she spent the night coughing.
I also think of Rion, and his ship. He may be here, right in the port, right now.
But as I look at Ruston’s eyes—glassy and hard—and Verna’s shaken expression, I know I have to return to Prudence.
“Let’s go,” I say. “Excuse us, ladies.”
It’s easy for me to leave Louisa and Drucilla, but it’s harder for me not to look back over my shoulder as Ruston and Verna lead me back to their cottage. I wonder if Rion is here yet, even though I don’t see his ship, and I hope that I will get a chance to reunite with him soon.
As we near the house, I catch sight of Dommier and Birdon. They are both outside, and, from their quiet expressions, I worry that we are too late.
Vagarey comes out to see us and waves us inside.
“She wants you to come in and say goodbye,” she told me softly, as she and Verna move to stand beside their brothers.
“No,” I say, pushing past everyone else. Ruston follows me, more slowly. I almost want to scream at him, telling him to move on, but I have a feeling he knew this was coming, too.
Prudence is coughing up blood as I come in and sit beside her on the bed.
“Prudence,” I whisper, reaching out and holding onto her.
“I’m very lucky you made it,” she whispers back, embracing me. “I was beginning to think I would miss you.”
“That’s all I’ll ever do for you,” I tell her, unable to stop myself from crying.
I haven’t known Prudence long, but the amount of pain I feel is raw and deadly. I feel like her absence would create a vacuum in this world, one that would take a piece of me along with her as she died.
“Oh, Ruston, how I love you,” Prudence says, as she reaches out and takes his hand, still cradling me next to her weakened breast. “I’ve been so very blessed to have you as my son. I hope you will learn to be happy for me, instead of sad for yourself.”
“You’ve given me a very poor choice in that regard, Mama,” Ruston tells her, which makes her laugh.
I can tell it pains her, and I hurry to crawl back from her.
“It’s all right,” she tells me. “We all suffer for those we love, don’t we?”
“Then I am suffering more than you,” I tell her.
“Your love gives you great power,” Prudence tells me. “Now, my sweet princess, won’t you sing for me?”
Ruston falls down beside her, kissing her forehead, while I barely manage to hum out a song.
Prudence doesn’t seem to mind; she is still smiling, moments later, as she takes her last breath.
*26*
Varyes
I LOVE THE WINTERTIME. There is something fascinatingly beautiful about the slow death of the living world. As the first snow of the year falls on my kingdom, I feel like it is not an end to the year, but the beginning of a new life for me. Looking out the window, with my gaze trained on the port where my son is reported to have just landed, I smile and take a sip from my teacup.
There is an extra-bitter taste to it, but I can ignore it. Hortensia has been making me drink a special tea that will help my skin look decades younger, and I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy that more.
“Your Majesty.”
Horatio’s voice, even in its melodic manner, scratches against my nerves as I turn from my window.
He’s not supposed to interrupt me, but because he is adorable in that way—or at least, he once was, before he rejected me as a lover—I decide I will allow him to keep on living.
In some ways, that’s the better choice anyway. If he dies, he’ll just put an end to his suffering, and it’s worth any suffering on my part to keep him in his place.
“What is it, Horatio?” I ask as I stir the tea inside its cup. “This had better be good.”
“I regret to inform you, Majesty, that it seems Princess Ebony is alive.”
The teacup drops from my hands and shatters to the ground, and I whirl around to face my mirror-slave.
“Tell me this is a terrible jest,” I order him.
“I am not able to lie to you, Majesty,” he reminds me. “I don’t think I’m allowed to make such jests, either.”
“Oh, shut up,” I snap. I call for my guards. “Bring me Enri and Alfonse. Now!”
The guards, seeing my seething rage, can’t stumble over their own feet fast enough. I let out a scream, before I reach for Ebony’s headscarf.
It is supposed to be my prize. My proof she is dead and gone, both from my life and from this world.
“How dare they mislead me,” I hiss. My hands begin to smoke, and I toss Ebony’s silly, ugly scarf onto the floor in a fit of rage.
When Enri and Alfonse appear with my guards, I don’t waste any time.
“You’re here,” I snap. “So I can hear from your own lips why you would betray me.”
“Betray you?” Alfonse is confused, while Enri is outraged.
“I know Prince Rion is coming to see you soon,” Enri says, “but there’s no need to pretend we weren’t just following your orders, Queen Varyes.”
He eyes the guards around us carefully, as if to remind me that our plan is supposed to be a secret. Prince Rion was bound to have his own investigation when he came back, and Enri thinks he will use this leverage to keep himself safe.
Rather, I think it is best to use this as his undoing.
“Guards.” I pound my fist on my palm. “Take these men to the dungeon and execute them at once. They are the ones who killed Princess Ebony, and you can sentence them to death for treason against the crown.”
“What?”
Alfonse objects.
“Gag them, too,” I order the guards, who uneasily comply. “I wouldn’t want your ears to be burdened with their lies, as mine have been, nor would I want your heart to become softened to murderers. They’ve already killed Ebony, and there’s no way to be certain how many other crimes they’ve committed and who they will blame for it.”
Enri and Alfonse try to fight off my guards, but they do not succeed. It is my greatest joy to see them dragged out of my room and headed toward their deaths.
As Ebony should be.
I glance at the clock. Rion is supposed to come and see me today, now that his ship has pulled into the dock. I am surprised he is not here already, but then, he is getting more and more prone to disappointing me of late.
I turn back to Horatio. “Now, tell me what you know. Where is Ebony?”
“She is living near the docks,” he says. “There is a house she has visited with a Dr. Bonpette.”
“I see. Come with me, to my garden shed, and see if Prince Rion is nearby as you do so,” I say. “Enough is enough. I will have to kill Ebony myself.”
Horatio disappears from the mirror, and I call for Hortensia. She comes at once, and I am gratified. My Maruli shaman is the only Maruli I will trust anymore.
“You called, Majesty?” she asks. Her eyes are blacker than usual, as if she senses the great amount of rage and determination I feel.
“Yes,” I say. “I need you to help me. I need a disguise. Ebony is alive, and it seems it is up to me to kill her.”
Hortensia smiles softly. “That should be easy, Majesty,” she says, pulling out a small bottle that’s on a chain around her neck. “Here.”
She gives me the tiny bottle, and I inspect it carefully. There’s nothing about it that impresses me.
“What’s this for?” I ask. “Can it make me look like an entirely different person?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “You just have to drink it, and then it’ll change you as it moves through your body.”
“It’s so small.”
“So is a single drop of blood, but that alone is enough to mar a perfectly white sheet.” Hortensia gives me a wicked smile. “You will be surprised at what you see when it’s done working its magic.”
Easy enough.
I open the bottle and throw back the acidic liquid. It burns into me, and I begin to feel a painful sensation in my stomach. From there, all at once, I feel the change as it moves through me.
My hair falls down behind me in clusters of bristled silver; my cheeks fall, and my face goes limp with saggy skin. My sight dims, but I can still see my hands wrinkle twice over; my veins bulge and age spots speckle my skin. My waist even feels heavier, and my back hunches over.
I glance back in the mirror, only to see an old hag in the mirror.
“Oh, Hortensia, this is perfect,” I say, patting my dry chin, where bristles of white have appeared. “That potion has a lot of power to it.”
“It should,” Hortensia says. “It was designed to remove all magic from the person who consumes it.”
My heart thumps once in pure shock. This is my real face, I realize, staring into the mirror. As I watch, I frown, which pulls my face down into an even more twisted, ugly form.
My hands fall flat on the mirror; my own magic, which is young compared to Hortensia’s, flares up, and my hands leak smoke at my outrage and despair.
“No matter,” I finally say. “I’ll just make a new potion to restore my beauty once I get back from killing Ebony. If this is who I am, it is time to embrace it.”
Hortensia says nothing else, only bowing as I head out of the room.
“Your Majesty,” Horatio’s voice calls back to me from the mirror.
I turn and look at him, and he visibly retches.
“It’s me,” I say, realizing my voice is much deeper than it used to be.
“I know,” he says, but when he sees my hand ball into a fist, he quickly changes the subject. “I’ve only come to tell you that Prince Rion is in the palace. I saw him coming down from the High Tower earlier. He is headed to the front hall.”
“Hmm.” I don’t want to confront Rion until Ebony is dead, and I am back to my usual self. “You keep a watch on him, Horatio. I’ve got to go to my garden, and I’ll take care of Ebony. Then I will see to Rion’s future.”
*27*
Rion
HOURS HAVE PASSED SINCE sunrise when I finally make the long trek down from the High Tower. Ebony did not come to me, and I worry more than ever that she is truly gone.
I’d heard the whispers that Mother’s advisors were the ones who murdered Ebony, and I feel like dying myself.
I’d hoped that, in coming to the High Tower, I would find some relief—that I would find Ebony waiting for me, just as she had before.
Leaving the High Tower is difficult. Each step I take feels like I am stepping further into hell, and I cringe to think that foreshadows a life without Ebony.
I pass by a mirror and see myself—I’m tired – beyond tired – and my sadness is only starting to consume me.
“Prince Rion!”
A voice calls to me, and I see a maid hopping toward me with a frantic energy I almost envy. There is something familiar about her, and I realize she is one of Ebony’s maids—or at least, she was. I don’t know if I want to talk to her at all; she is so young, and I don’t want her to be the one who sees my heart and soul break completely if Ebony is really dead.
“Prince Rion,” she calls again, and I prepare myself for the worst.
“Yes?” I ask.
The maid seems to remember her place as she reaches me, and I am just about to remember her name, as she hurriedly bows.
“Prince Rion, I have a message for you,” she says. “Ebony is alive.”
I don’t know if I should believe her or not. “How do you know?” I ask tentatively, before I hold my breath.
“Viola, Ebony’s speciava, wants you to know Ebony’s alive.”
“She’s really alive?” All the tension drains out of my body, and all the dead weight I’d felt only moments ago disappears, transformed into new life.
“Yes, she’s been living close to the docks for the past couple of months,” Damaris says. “She’s looking for you.”
“You know this is true?” Despite my skepticism, I nearly laugh with relief and wonder and excitement. “I can’t believe this.”
“Vi told me just a little while ago,” the maid says. “Call her, if you don’t believe me—”
A white light glimmers in the mirror I’d just passed. “Prince Rion,” she says. “I am here to tell you it’s true what Damaris is saying.”
She nods down to the maid in front of me, and I remember Damaris’ name. Damaris begins to shake her auburn hair fiercely in agreement.
“I saw Ebony earlier. She says she will look for you down by the docks.”
“Wonderful,” I say. “I’ll go and find her right away.”
There’s a small movement behind us, but I am too eager to find Ebony to worry about the looming shadow down the hall. I glance over at it once, and, seeing no real movement, I dismiss my worry and focus on my joy.
“I knew it,” I say, nearly breathless with excitement. “I knew she wasn’t dead.”
“Go get her then,” Damaris tells me. “I need you to bring her back for my sake, too!”
“I will,” I promise, as I turn to Viola. “Thank you. I know there will be repercussions for you.”
Viola juts her chin out. “I will do the right thing for my mistress,” she says.
“And I will see that you are rewarded.” I clasp my hands together. “I owe you so much for this.”
“I agree with Damaris,” she says. “But there is something you might be able to do for me. And my son, too.”
“I will see to it the moment I get back with Ebony,” I promise, quickly excusing myself and heading down the hall.
I am just about to turn down the hallway when I hear a strangled cry. My h
eels dig into the floor, and I turn to see a shocking sight.
There’s an old woman, in a black robe, who is gripping the mirror where Viola is. As I watch, the robed lady pulls Viola’s essence out of the mirror.
I watch, horrified, as the ghostly white wisps I’d seen in Viola’s face turn solid; she is almost like a clay version of a human, with little patches of once-vibrant hair falling around her face. She is an older woman, made older by the resurgence of human life against her spirit.
“Viola!” I hear myself cry as I hurry forward.
The old hag sees me and hisses, spitting down at Viola before fleeing. I want to chase her down, but I know shaman magic when I see it; she is a practitioner, and there aren’t many in my kingdom. I will be able to find her fairly easily, too, giving the old hag’s raspy breathing as she hurries away.
In the meantime, Viola is dying. I kneel down before her.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, carefully touching her forehead. I know there is nothing I can do now but sit here and watch her die.
Viola sighs. “Horatio.”
“Do you want me to call for him?” I ask, but Horatio appears in the mirror behind us before Viola can answer.
“Serves her right,” Horatio says. “She betrayed the Queen.”
“How is that deserving of death?” I snap, my voice fierce and harsh against his flippancy. “And shouldn’t you be on the lookout for a mirror-slave murderer?”
“That’s not my job,” Horatio tells me. “Nor is it my job to listen to you, Prince Rion.”
“You should know better than to speak to your Prince that way,” Vi says, turning her maudlin figure toward the mirror. “After all, I am the one who raised you, my son.”
Horatio goes quiet as I lean down next to her. Viola’s breathing is weak, and she’s fading fast.
“I’ve always loved you, Horatio,” Viola whispers. “I just wanted to watch over you, after the Queen sentenced you to your fate.”
Horatio and I are still so quiet.
“I will have to watch over you from Heaven now,” Viola continues. “Assuming the good Lord will take a wretched speciava like me.”
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