by Ann Denton
He started for the kitchens, trying to keep a lid on the anger and self-loathing battling under his skin.
Ein tried to catch up to him on the stairs, but Lowe easily lost the lanky engineer by ducking around people’s feet. He didn’t want to be seen with the uptight man. A pitiful kid was far more likely to extract useful information than an arrogant muckhead.
He burst into the scullery room, the force of his entry enough to send a small boy toppling over with an armful of dirty pots. The clatter he made was swallowed by the din of chatter as women washed dishes in troughs. The gossip would be here if it was anywhere.
“Hi!” Lowe amped up the sweetness to eleven. The women nearest him turned and crooned.
“What’s yer name lil’ man?” crooned the oldest woman. She was shorter than her friends, and wider, but she radiated grandmotherly warmth.
“Lamm.” He said it without thinking.
“Lamm,” the old woman said, mussing his hair and smiling. “Lil’ Lamm.”
“What’s a sweetie like you doin’ down here?” asked another woman, a young blonde with brown eyes.
“Looking for somebody. I got a real job.” Lowe overacted. Pulled a ‘very serious’ face that had the women giggling behind their hands. “Keptiker says he wants to see her.”
“See who, love?”
“The Chiara, Stelle.” Lowe popped a suds bubble on the side of the trough.
The women went quiet. They exchanged frightened looks.
Lowe looked between them, making a show of looking confused. “Do you know where she is?”
“Um,” the brown-eyed woman pushed her lips together, suddenly looking uncomfortable.
“What?” asked Lowe. “She’s not in trouble. Keptiker wants to see her is all.”
“Oh, darlin’,” said the grandmother. She smiled at him and patted his cheek. “It ain’t safe to talk about the prince’s gal,” she said, looking over her shoulder as though the warning itself was enough to get her in trouble.
Lowe scarcely heard her apology. When he managed to speak again, his tinny voice was full of air. “What do you mean the prince’s gal?”
Chapter Sixty
“She’s his puppet,” the young girl’s voice was sour.
“Now, don’ you be getting’ airs. Don’ wanna be demoted again, do ya?” Grandmother wagged a finger at her.
Lowe watched their interaction with interest. Grandmother noticed and jerked her head at him. “Don’ be starin’ at her, boy. Mouthed off to that woman. Be careful you. That Prince’s takin’ a shine. Sent this girl here to boil her hands an’ looks away.”
Suddenly, the kitchens went silent. The taut kind of silence that fills a room before an execution. Lowe turned.
Two figures stood in the doorway. One of them was tall, with the strutting walk of a king and the disfigured face of his sons. One of the thirteen-year-old princes. Behind was Stelle. A black veil concealed her hair, but he knew those eyes, steel blue, full of fire and lies.
Stelle glared at the younger girl, staring right over Lowe’s bruised and bald head. He breathed a sigh of relief for Mala’s interference earlier.
“Prince Trova,” the head of the scullery bowed, “Can I help you with anything?”
He waved her off with what might have been a smile. Through the scars, it was impossible to tell.
A guard rushed in through the opposite door. Lowe had to stop his jaw from dropping. Tall. Mountainous. The President’s man. The one he’d met last summer. The one who’d downed him with a dart. Lowe struggled to remember the man’s name.
Nal. What’s he doing here?
Lowe didn’t have time to process that thought. The Prince nodded to Stelle and the guard and jerked his head toward another doorway. All three marched through it. Lowe followed.
They made their way up a busy staircase, and Lowe was able to slip between servants and guards unnoticed.
“We can use my room. It’s close,” Stelle murmured. Prince Trova gave a stiff nod and turned right.
Lowe held back as Nal hurried forward and held open the door for Stelle and Trova. He averted his eyes when Nal gazed around the hall before shutting the door with a decisive click.
Lowe examined his mental maps of the building. This was a conversation he was sure he needed to hear. Are they negotiating the trade right now? He pulled up a mental image of electrical access panels, which created narrow corridors between the walls of some of the rooms. Lowe made his way to the next doorway and crossed his fingers.
He pulled open the door, interrupting a guard and a woman desperately making out.
“Whoa. Sorry. I—” Lowe stammered but didn’t move.
“Oh!” The woman pushed the guard off her, straightened her shirt, and hurried out of the room.
The guard turned a vicious look on Lowe.
“I-I-I, I didn’t mean—” Lowe stammered. He worked to keep a smirk off his face. Follow her, you idiot. “She seems upset.”
The guard’s menace turned to worry, and he pushed roughly past Lowe in pursuit of the woman.
Thank Deadwater. Lowe slipped into the room and shut the door. It had only one window, so it was fairly dark even at midday. He slipped his hands along the wall, feeling for panels. There.
The panel opened easily, which worried Lowe. Troe’s compound didn’t use electricity. So that meant someone was using this panel for travel. Unseen. He’d have to leave before the conversation was over, to ensure Stelle and her companions didn’t sneak out this way.
Lowe slipped into the space between the walls. A narrow passage for an adult, it was more than comfortable for a small child. He ran his hands over the conduit and plastic vines that curled floor to ceiling in the passage. He sidestepped until he found the access panel on Stelle’s side and paused to listen.
“Border’s gonna make that impossible soon.” A baritone voice hit his ears. It had to be Nal.
Lowe grimaced and took a step forward, ready to try cracking open the access panel when he tripped on a cord at his feet. He bent down, examining it. It was string. Thick string, like shoestring. But it didn’t belong here. He tugged the cord lightly. It held. But a glimmer of light flashed.
What? Lowe bent and followed the string. It was tied to a blue box. Lowe tugged again and an outlet fell into his hand. Light from Stelle’s room came from two holes in the outlet cover, where the electrical plugs would have been. Lowe crouched down.
Someone’s been spying on her. Lowe wouldn’t be surprised if the King had put someone here to watch Stelle. She was new, claiming to see the future. For once, he was grateful for mad King Troe. He laid on the ground and turned his head sideways so he could peer into the room.
Canvases covered every surface. Tables, chairs. Even the bed. There were all kinds of scenic canvases. Trees without leaves. Apple orchards. Some that looked like works in progress: blue glows or white scribbles. But one caught his eye. The hospital. She had painted it. She’d already admitted it. But to see it …
Lowe’s rage was cut short as Stelle stepped into his line of vision across the room. She opened a book and pulled out a sheet of paper from it, glancing back and forth at her companions.
“If you trap her, it doesn’t go well.” Stelle stated. “She has to decide.”
“Tier’s chomping at the bit. He won’t hold out much longer. And I’ll bet soon Stahl himself will get involved.” Prince Trova chimed in.
What? Chomping at the bit for the trade? Is that what they mean?
“What’s Tier gonna do?” Nal scoffed. “He’s the most powerful leader of a group that doesn’t exist. If the public found out about him they’d freak. If his own people found out about him … he’d be dead. He’ll wait ‘til we’re ready for him.”
Found out what? Lowe’s heart raced.
“Yes, well, secrets beget power—not friends,” Trova chuckled.
What’s that mean?
“Who cares about Tier? The kids are gone, or almost. The girl’s essential. We all agre
e on that. And she’s here now.”
“Finally; no thanks to him. We have to get her to agree quickly.” The Prince stepped into Lowe’s line of sight. Just a kid, but his presence was so demanding. Commanding.
Lowe closed his eyes for a second to try to parse out the conversation. Tier has a secret. Secrets beget power. How did Tier become head Ancient? When did that happen? Lowe had never followed politics until Fell had recently gotten involved. Damnit. He didn’t know. He focused back on the conversation, hoping they would give it away.
Stelle held up her sheet of paper. “It will take time to convince her. He’s the biggest problem I see. I see him trying to convince her otherwise. He’s dangerous, like I said.” She held the paper up and looked out of Lowe’s line of sight, presumably at Nal. “You need to find him. He needs to go.”
Lowe’s throat constricted as he looked at the drawing.
Ein.
There was his proof. Visual confirmation. Firsthand. A second picture, a second hit, that’s what these were. Deliberate assassinations.
His bones cracked and splintered, his skin stretched. Ginger. Peppermint. Apple cider vinegar. Honey. He recited home remedies in his head. He barely stopped the meltdown.
Lowe had what he needed. Not what he wanted. His head swirled as he replaced the outlet and crawled out of the electrical panel into the next room.
Is President Stahl okay with this? His man’s there. Is he sacrificing us for those kids? For public opinion? But … the kids are gone. Does Nal know? Or is Nal working with Stelle? Lowe’s brain latched onto the last conclusion. It seemed to make more sense. Why else would a Presidential bodyguard be meeting with an enemy Prince? And then his brain registered something else.
The photo he’d seen in Blut’s file. Nal and Blut. On Blut’s last mission. The number of people involved in this tangle kept growing. Stelle. Prince Trova. Nal. Blut. Were they all working together?
And Tier … what does his secret have to do with this?
He didn’t know what to think. He stumbled down the hall to an abandoned stretch and ducked into the nearest room.
I need orders. I need the abort green-lighted. I need a drink.
Lowe crouched in a corner and fiddled with the two-way Verrukter had given him.
He turned the dials on Verrukter’s handheld radio until the static became a dull hum. “Lowe to Center,” he said.
“Lowe?” the radio crackled back at him. The sound of Dez’s voice was sweet enough to make him cry. “What the … I thought you weren’t supposed to have a radio!”
“I don’t. I ran into Verrukter.”
“Ran into? Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Lowe said, running his hands over his face.
“Are you okay?” asked Dez.
Lowe sighed. “No. I need to talk to Tier. Now.”
“Shit. Hang on, I’ll transfer you.” After another moment, she added, “Please don’t die.”
Lowe managed a small smile. “I’ll do my best.”
The radio spat static in his face. There was a long moment where the only thing Lowe could hear was his blood rushing in his ears.
“Lowe,” Tier’s voice was gruff.
“The kids are gone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The kids from the hospital. They were here, but the Erlenders have been leading them one by one into the radiation. There are only three left.” Beza’s face flashed before his eyes.
“Into the radiation? You’re sure?”
“I saw it myself.”
Tier was silent for a moment. “Mucking hell, that’s brilliant. Mud-breathing muckhead. Nothing left to trade. We find the kids and bring them back, they spread radiation poisoning. I’m out. We leave ‘em, the whole country gets up in arms—I’m out.” A strangled laugh shook the radio.
“Neid’s dead. The Chiara—our contact—gave the Erlenders a drawing. Neid was killed on sight. Now another picture is about to circulate about Ein. The trade is dead. Stelle’s sold us out. Why, I’m not sure. But we’re sitting ducks. The assassination won’t happen. I’m requesting permission to abort.”
A long silence followed. Lowe almost pressed the button to repeat his request, when the crackle of Tier’s handheld came through.
“Permission denied.”
“What?” Lowe leaned forward, shocked.
“This is what they’ll do to get her. Imagine what they’ll do if they think we’ve taken her back.”
The line went dead.
Lowe sank to the ground and sat in the dark, wondering what had just happened. His commanding Ancient had just sentenced them to death. What secret is he hiding? It was clear that Stelle and the others knew. What kind of secret would outsiders know about Tier? Did he do something awful for President Stahl? Make some kind of deal with that Prince? Was he ever really trading Mala for the kids? Ever really planning for Stelle to kill King Troe? Or was he trading us for silence?
Chapter Sixty-One
Lowe sat in the dark for another moment as memories flitted through his head. Tier had been angry when Lowe had shown up at the Center with Mala. Presumably because she interfered with Lowe’s info-feeder assignment. But what if it was something else? If Tier’s working with these people …
Lowe shuffled through memories like playing cards. Stelle had shown him a drawing of Mala. Promised him Mala wouldn’t die.
She’d just held up a picture to Trova saying they needed the girl and Ein was a threat. There couldn’t be two girls. She had to mean Mala. Ein didn’t know anyone else. They needed Mala for something. And the prince’s response, “Finally.” Which led him back to the memory of Tier’s apoplectic face. How long have they been looking for Mala?
Last summer, Stelle had been stationed close to Bara’s guard … In the fall, Blut had attacked Bara’s guard looking for someone. Was it her? Images flashed. The marker necklace. Sari’s carved-up face. Was all of that for Mala? Had they been looking for her since then? She suspected it. But why?
“Forget it.” Lowe stood. Speculation was useless. Why bother guessing when he could just grab Stelle and force her to confess?
He dug through his shredded sweatpants for the last potion duct-taped inside. Just in case.
Lowe let the door slam closed behind him. He stood on the molting carpet, staring at her back, at the cascade of penny-red hair glinting as she lit a lantern.
Stelle turned to him slowly. A sad smile lit her face. “You were cute at that age.”
“Why?” he demanded. He took a single step forward. He let himself melt into a man. He wanted to face Stelle eye to eye. “Why?”
She laughed and said nothing. He’d loved that sound once. He’d died the day she was taken, terrified that he would never hear it again. Now, her laugh made rage hammer on his bones.
“Did you know? A little birdie came to see me. Looked just like you. And she had so many questions. She’s talented. But not much for acting.”
“She was here. You didn’t grab her? Just hand her off to Troe?”
“Why would I do that?”
“The trade.”
“That.” Stelle’s lips pinched together, the perfect picture of contrition. “I’m sorry about that.”
He took a deep breath. So, you don’t want her to be queen. He stared at Stelle’s drawing of an orchard filled with tents and children climbing trees, eating apples. It looked like some pre-bomb fantasy.
“The assassination?”
She remained stock-still. She didn’t lie. Part of Lowe wished she would. Because he wanted to hit her. He fingered the last packet of Feuer.
“Why’d you drag me into this?” He had to speak slowly, to keep the hurt out of his tone.
She bit her lip. “I didn’t know it would be like this. When Kay asked if I wanted … I thought … we’d be like we were before. I’m an idiot. I don’t think straight when it comes to you. Never have.” She looked down, hiding the tears that sprang with this confession.
; Though a tiny part of him pitied her, the larger part of his heart raged. “You brought me in. But you didn’t tell me the truth.”
“Because you’ve changed. You wouldn’t believe—” Stelle’s voice regained strength, indignance.
“That you can tell the future? No, I don’t. I was in on that lie, remember?”
“It’s not a lie.”
“Then it’s a mucking delusion!”
“The freeze is coming. The spell is going to overtake all of us if we don’t—"
Lowe cut her off. He didn’t have time to listen to the stories she’d picked up in her decade amongst Erlenders. “You want her. For what?”
Stelle shook her head. “We need her. She has to find him. Find the source. You’ve seen what she can do. She needs that protection. She can be anyone. With more practice, she can look like anyone. Walk among demons—”
“You don’t make any sense!”
“I know. Not to you. Does this make sense? I need her to want us. Join us. Part of me’s sorry, Lowe. The part of me that grew up with my little shadow. But there are things in play you don’t understand.”
She took a step closer. She smelled of cloves and Lowe had to fight the flashbacks associated with that smell. He focused on her eyes. She was telling the truth. She was sorry.
He didn’t care.
“Things like the border closing in? I already knew that. Told you that. You said nothing! Or how about things like Kreis disappearing through the border? Just vanishing—” He cut himself off, cursing internally. Give away everything you know, idiot. Show your whole hand, why don’t you?
Stelle’s mouth dropped. For a moment she was completely still. “Yes,” she breathed. “Exactly that. The freeze. If we’re going to survive—”