by Sharon Shinn
“And who’s going to tell him? You? The echoes? No one else will know.”
“But if something goes wrong—”
“Nothing will go wrong! Now quickly!”
They must have hatched this scheme at some point when I was too far away to overhear because at first I could not figure out what was happening. But soon enough, Elyssa was out of her fancy clothes and stepping into one of Trima’s severe high-necked black dresses. She coiled up her hair, pinned it to the top of her head, and covered it with a plain lace cap. The change in her appearance was drastic. If you looked closely, you could still tell who she was, but without the lush black hair framing her face, without the deep-dyed purple fabric calling attention to her full curves and alabaster skin, Elyssa was wan and unremarkable. If anyone glanced her way, which seemed unlikely, they would think she was a servant.
She took one final glance in the mirror, said “I never realized I could look so drab,” and motioned to the echoes. We all rose quickly to our feet.
“You must stay here until I get back, since everyone thinks I’m you,” Elyssa said to Trima as she headed toward the door. “It should only be a couple of hours.”
“Wait—what about your necklace?”
Elyssa turned back impatiently. It was clear she wanted to go running back downstairs to make her assignation with Marco. “What about it?”
“You wore it to dinner. Someone might wonder why you’re not wearing it now.”
Elyssa heaved an exaggerated sigh but seemed to think Trima had a point. “Fine. Take it off me and put it on one of them,” she said, presenting her spine to the maid. “But for love of the goddess, please hurry.”
Trima made no answer, just reached under the fabric on the back of Elyssa’s dress to undo the clasp and slide the necklace free. Since I was the echo standing nearest to her, I wasn’t surprised when she stepped behind me to fasten the chain around my own throat. I felt her warm fingers on the back of my neck, but they were no warmer than the gold of the necklace itself, heated by Elyssa’s wild blood.
Elyssa scarcely waited for Trima to complete her task before she reached for the door handle. “Be careful, my lady,” Trima spoke up in a sharp voice.
Elyssa’s only reply was a laugh.
As the four of us stepped into the hallway, Elyssa pushed me ahead of her. “You first,” she said. At the same moment, she asserted her control tightly over the three of us, and I found myself marching down the hallway with my movements precisely tied to hers. We looked like a high noblewoman, her two echoes, and a devoted servant hurrying through the mansion.
When we arrived at the ballroom door, we paused and peered inside. While the stage remained well-lit, the rest of the room was in shadowy darkness, but I could see that most seats were already filled with Sorrell’s guests.
The governor’s wife hurried over and spoke directly to me, as I was still in the lead. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I made sure the whole last row remained empty for you and your maid.”
Under Elyssa’s compulsion, my lips shaped a silent thank you and I gave the woman a grateful nod. Then the four of us made our way to the seats that had been reserved for us. As it happened, the last two rows were both empty, since apparently everyone else wanted to be close enough to the stage to hear all the dialogue. I ended up in the middle of the row, Elyssa on the aisle, the echoes in between us.
I understood her plan now, of course. Everyone believed one of her echoes was injured and confined to her room, so no one would question the fact that Elyssa only appeared to have two echoes now. She had dressed herself as Trima merely to shepherd us to this venue, getting us settled in a place where no one would be expected to speak to us for more than an hour. And then, I supposed, she would sneak out of the ballroom at some point to meet with Marco. No one would even question why a maid would leave a play in the middle of the performance, whereas if Elyssa herself tried to exit, everyone would expect her echoes to follow. And she was headed to a rendezvous she did not want even her echoes to witness.
If only I’d known, I thought, as I folded my hands in my lap and gazed at the stage, just as Elyssa was doing. I could have saved you all this trouble. I could have led the echoes down here, taken our seats—even exchanged a few words with the governor’s wife!—and no one would have known it wasn’t you. I don’t care if you ruin yourself with disastrous romances. I’d have been happy to abet you as you made plans to meet with your secret lover.
It was only one of the many ironies of my present situation.
We had not been in our seats very long when three hard knocks against the wooden dais signaled that the performance was about to begin. The crowd rustled a bit more, then settled down. A single figure entered from the far right, bounded up the stairs, and burst onto the stage. He was dressed in clothing that even I could tell was meant to be old-fashioned, as it was overornamented with gold braid and bright velvet, and he wore a hat that I had never seen any man wear, either in the countryside or the city.
“Gorsey!” he exclaimed in an affected accent. “I never thought that I would be a man to meet the king! But I suppose you never know at the start of your life what sorts of miracles it might contain.”
I had to agree with the sentiment.
He had been speaking a few minutes, explaining his situation, when a trio of women mounted the stage from the other side. They, too, were dressed in outdated but extravagantly beautiful clothes, and they fell on him with cries of wonder.
“Tell us! Tell us! What did you learn from your expedition to Camarria?”
As he launched into a recitation, I felt Elyssa’s head jerk in the direction of the door. All her echoes immediately glanced that way, but I couldn’t see past the others to determine what had caught Elyssa’s attention. I could guess, though. She dropped her strict control over us, but issued a silent, powerful command that I interpreted as Stay. Then she rose to her feet, glided furtively to the door, and disappeared.
I stared after her, thinking impossible thoughts. What if I took this opportunity to try to escape her—left the echoes where they were and simply snuck out of the ballroom, out of the manor, and into the streets of Wemberton? How long would I survive, friendless and penniless, with no history and no skills? Would I find some kind soul to give me shelter and ask few questions, or would I be attacked, humiliated, perhaps killed, before a week was out? Would Elyssa even try to recover me—and if she did, what punishment would she mete out to me then?
With these questions revolving in my head, I completely lost the thread of the story being told onstage. So when there was a sudden stir and murmur in the audience, I looked up in surprise, thinking there must have been an unexpected plot twist in the play. But no. The action on the stage had been momentarily suspended, and all the nobles were rising to their feet. Everyone was gazing toward the door, where a small knot of people engaged in low conversation. The ballroom was still dim, but servants in the hallway were holding enough lamps to show a cluster of fresh arrivals, their hair and outer coats glittering with a dust of snow.
“Please—don’t announce me. I hate to be a disruption!” a man said in a soft and pleasant tone.
I held my breath. I knew that voice. I knew that shape at the door, and those repeated shapes, like shadows with weight and substance—
“But, prince, everyone has already seen you! There has already been a disruption!” the governor’s wife protested.
“Yes, and I am sorry for it,” Jordan replied. “Just let me sit quietly. You can announce me when the play is over.”
By this time, I was also on my feet, craning my head to look around the echoes, straining to see through the dimness of the room. Jordan! Here! Had my wandering mind conjured up delicious hallucinations or was it really the prince?
He stepped into the ballroom, accompanied by the lady of the house and a wavering circle of light. Everyone in the audience bowed or curtseyed in one convulsive, rustling wave, and Jordan bowed back in a restrained way, as if
still trying to minimize the effects of his presence. I saw his eyes flicking quickly over the crowd, trying through the inadequate lighting to determine who was present and who might be friendly to the crown. His gaze landed on Elyssa’s echo, the one nearest the door, and I saw him first start back and then grow eager. I could almost read the thoughts in his head. Oh, no. Elyssa’s here. But wait, does that mean Hope is, too?
His gaze moved to the second echo and then to me. Praying he could see me even through the shadows, I stared back, holding his eyes with my own. I gave the smallest nod.
Jordan turned to the governor’s wife, who was leading him toward the front of the room, and murmured, “I’m just going to take a seat here in the back where I won’t bother anybody.”
“But, Majesty—”
He marched across the floor, entered the row of seats from the other side, and came to stand right next to me, his echoes lining up beside him.
“Everybody, please sit,” he said, and dropped onto this chair.
The whole world sat down.
And I was sitting next to Jordan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
For a moment, the silence in the makeshift theater was absolute. The actors, frozen in mid-gesture, stared out at the crowd as if waiting for permission to speak. The guests, once again facing the stage, held themselves with tense alertness, as if straining toward the back of the room to detect any word or motion on Jordan’s part. If anyone even breathed, they did so without making a sound.
Then the governor’s wife made a helpless gesture toward the stage and said, “Please. Resume.”
One of the actresses cleared her throat and said. “So—Lord Michael—tell us what other news you heard in the royal city.”
The actor playing Michael stumbled over his first few words, but soon he was declaiming with his previous flair and confidence. The noble guests relaxed their stiff poses and pretended a renewed interest in the play, though one or two glanced over their shoulders in Jordan’s direction. Jordan sat very straight in his chair, his attention seeming fixed on the stage, but I felt his hand reach tentatively for mine.
I closed my fingers over his with a hold so tight I might very well have bruised the bone.
“Hope?” he whispered so low not even the people two rows in front of us could hear.
“Yes,” I answered, just as quietly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I almost didn’t come. When Cormac asked me to, I wanted to refuse.”
“Elyssa almost didn’t come, either. She managed to secure an invitation only a few days ago.”
I saw his gaze skip down the line of echoes before coming back to me. “Where is she? How can you be here if she is not?”
I managed the ghost of a laugh. “Oh, she went to elaborate lengths to make it happen! Everyone believes that one of her echoes is up in her room, injured, and that Elyssa’s maid accompanied her to the performance. But Elyssa was dressed as the maid and she slipped away as soon as she got us settled in our chairs.”
“One has to admire her ingenuity,” he said, though I could detect no admiration in his voice. “And where did she slip off to?”
I hesitated and he nodded. “An assignation, I suppose,” he said. “House parties like these are unendurable unless you’ve managed a little intrigue on the side.”
“You’re very lenient.”
“I’m very grateful! Because of her machinations, I have a chance to speak to you alone!”
I offered that soundless laugh again. “Alone with fifty other people in a public place.”
“It feels like privacy at the moment.”
“I was so afraid,” I said earnestly. “So afraid I would never see you again.”
“You would have,” he said with utter certainty. “I would have found a way to make it happen, even if it meant riding all the way to Lord Bentam’s house and demanding an audience with you.”
“This is better.”
He strangled a laugh. “So much better. And to think I only came tonight because my father thought it might be a smart move politically. I don’t know if you’re aware, but there has been so much unrest—”
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard a great deal about it.”
“And I thought, if my presence can be a calming influence— But I didn’t think, I didn’t even hope—” He stopped short, and then he squeezed my hand. “Hope,” he said again. “Every time I say the word, I think of you.”
“I got your message,” I said. “The one you sent with Deryk.”
Even his whisper sounded pleased. “You did? I wasn’t sure he would deliver it. I wasn’t sure you would know it was meant for you.”
“I tell myself you couldn’t possibly be thinking of me—”
“Thinking of you all the time,” he said.
I lifted my free hand, making a vague gesture at the stage, and the two echoes beside me mimicked my motion. “This reminds me,” I said. “Of that night in the palace—”
“Yes! The musical evening—”
“Where we sat in the back of the room—”
“And we talked about everything,” he finished up. “Just everything.”
“Then we were discussing Jamison’s death,” I said. “And now we hear that someone has been trying to kill Cormac. I can’t imagine how frightening it’s been.”
“It’s terrifying,” he said. “There have been two attempts so far, and we have to assume there will be more. And perhaps malcontents will target my father next, or me. We have doubled our security, so that everywhere we go we are followed by a dozen guards, but it is hard to ever feel entirely safe. We know that the first man to make the attempt was an outsider who somehow snuck into the palace—but the second one? My father believes he was brought in by someone who either works at the palace or was an invited guest. Which means we were betrayed by someone we trust.”
“Someone you shouldn’t trust,” I said, my voice as quiet as I could make it, “is Elyssa.”
He was silent a moment. “Her father is allied with the revolutionaries. That we know,” he said. “But I have never thought Elyssa cared enough for politics—or her father—to agitate against the crown.”
“There is a young man named Marco Ross. One of the rebels. She is enamored of him.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Love will convert anyone to a cause.”
I started to speak, but the crowd around us burst into laughter at some exchange onstage. I was glad, as it gave me another moment or two to formulate my next words, which were unexpectedly difficult to say. I wasn’t sure why. I hated Elyssa, I hated everything she had ever done, and yet I still felt as if I were being disloyal by exposing her now. “The man who tried to kill Cormac. The first one. It was Marco. Elyssa let him into the palace,” I said.
He looked down at me, his amiable face completely cold and set. “You’re certain of that?”
I nodded. “I would have thought the inquisitor would have figured that out.”
“What do you mean?”
“A couple of days before the assassin came in, Elyssa found a back entrance to the palace. One that you reach through a gate by the stables.”
“But that door is always kept locked from the inside.”
I nodded again. “We were sitting outside, trying to determine how to get in, when Malachi came out. He offered to escort us through the back hallways to the front entrance. Everyone says he’s such a clever man. I would have thought he would have realized that Elyssa was the one who unlocked the door a few days later. He had just seen her there.”
Jordan frowned, thinking that over. “I certainly would have been suspicious if I’d known that,” he agreed. “But Malachi …” His voice trailed off. “Malachi,” he repeated.
I felt shock tingle through me. “Surely you don’t think the inquisitor could be plotting against your family. Hasn’t he been at the palace forever?”
“Since my father married Tabitha,” Jordan said in an icy voice. “Her family sent him along with her to C
amarria, saying she needed someone in the palace to look out for her. He became an inquisitor and eventually the top man. But I would not be surprised to find his loyalty is more to Empara than the crown.”
“Would Tabitha have any reason to want Cormac dead?”
“She hates us all, so I would say the answer is yes! But Malachi—” He shook his head. “It makes no sense! It was Malachi who would not rest until he discovered that Lady Marguerite had killed Jamison, and he has searched just as assiduously for Cormac’s would-be assassin. If he knew, all this time, that Elyssa was acquainted with the man, why wouldn’t he have had her questioned?”
“Maybe he liked having knowledge that he could draw on later if he needed it,” I said tentatively. “Something he could use against Elyssa—or Lord Bentam—if the circumstances ever arose. If Cormac had actually died, Malachi might have arrested Elyssa, but since he survived—” I shrugged. “Malachi found the knowledge to be a weapon in his hand.”
“That sounds very much like Malachi,” Jordan agreed. “But perhaps the reason is even darker. Perhaps Malachi has only been pretending to search for the attacker because he has his own schemes in place for harming the crown.”
“That would be terrible!” I exclaimed. “You must tell your father.”
“I will. The minute I’m back in Camarria.” He squeezed my hand again. “How unexpected and fortunate that you were able to give me such news! I wonder what other information you might have that my father would never be able to pick up on his own.”
I managed a smile. “I would be happy to spy for you and report back anything happening in Lord Bentam’s house.”
“You could write me reports every week and send them in secret.”
I shook my head sadly. “I can’t write. Or read.”
“I’m sorry—I didn’t think—well, we’d find other ways to communicate,” he said firmly. “I know! I could come visit Bentam’s estate every few weeks.”
“Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely.”
“The difficulty would be in getting you alone during every visit. I don’t think we can count on Elyssa dashing off to meet paramours when she knows I’m expected in the house.”