by Sharon Shinn
There was a short silence. “Then what becomes of me?” Elyssa asked finally. “How long will he keep me here? Am I his prisoner or his guest?”
“I imagine the length of your stay depends on whether negotiations are possible. And I assume you are to be treated like a guest—who is not free to leave.”
“I shall go mad.”
“I hope not,” Jordan said. “But these are trying times for all of us.” I heard a rustling sound, as if he and his echoes were bowing. “Now, please forgive me, but I must return to my father’s side. I expect I will see you many times in the days ahead.”
I felt Elyssa curtsey—felt her resentment and building rage as she watched him stride away from her. She probably only waited until he was out of sight before she hurried down the hall. She didn’t command the echoes to join her, so I couldn’t be sure where she was going. My best guess was to Marietta’s room, so they could commiserate, recriminate, and scheme.
The echoes and I were left behind with nothing whatsoever to do. I shall go mad, I thought, just like Elyssa.
But I had something she didn’t have. Hope for a future that might contain the dearest wish of my heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The next three days were the oddest combination of skittering suspense and ponderous boredom. Marietta and Elyssa found themselves constantly in each other’s company. They took their meals together and were allowed to walk in the palace gardens together—as long as they were trailed by a guard and a couple of footmen. The two women had never liked each other much to begin with, and they quickly ran out of casual conversation, so most of these interludes passed in silence. Even the promenades through the garden were unsatisfying, as the weather had turned bitterly cold, and the northern wind left both ladies and all their echoes with reddened noses, watering eyes, and chilled fingertips.
Trima was Elyssa’s one source of comfort, alleviating her solitude and bringing news of the outside world, but they quarreled on the morning of the second day.
“I need you to deliver a note for me,” Elyssa said.
“I suppose you think you’re going to write to Marco Ross.”
“I suppose it’s none of your business.”
“It is if you expect me to carry a message for you.”
“All right, yes, to Marco. And he’ll send a message back with you.”
“Well, he won’t because I’m not doing it.”
“But there’s nobody else! Please, Trima, I’m begging you.”
“You don’t think the king’s men follow me everywhere I go? You don’t think they’ll be right behind me, scooping up any letters I happen to leave behind?”
“You just have to be careful—”
“Nobody can be that careful! The king thinks you have plotted to kill his son! If you make one mistake now—one!—you’ll be the next high noble to be executed in Amanda Plaza. Yes, and I’ll be executed right beside you for abetting a traitor.”
Elyssa started crying. “I just want Marco to know where I am. I just want him to know what’s happened to me.”
“Believe me, everyone in the city knows where you are. If he’s in Camarria, he’s heard the news.”
Elyssa kept pleading, but Trima was adamant, with the result that Elyssa cried, “I hate you!” and sent her from the room. But Elyssa had no other allies at the palace, so the following morning she greeted the maid with a subdued welcome, and the fight seemed to be forgotten.
I didn’t even have Trima to talk to. Since Elyssa was never out in company, there was no need for the echoes to be washed and dressed, and Trima never bothered stepping through the connecting door to attend to us. Of course, here at the palace with Jordan as our champion, we were not forgotten; servants brought food and water, and someone made sure the fire was stoked and the linens were clean. I could obviously take care of myself, and I dressed the echoes every day as well.
Jordan came by twice in those three days for the briefest of visits, both of us so alert for a possible intrusion from Elyssa that we could barely relax enough to speak. He did tell me that emissaries were on the way to the rebel armies that had gathered south of the city, and that troops from the three loyal provinces were marching toward Camarria. I let him know that Elyssa was desperate to make contact with Marco Ross, but that Trima wouldn’t carry a message for her.
“That’s too bad. I’d love to get a glimpse of this fellow,” Jordan replied. “But I can hardly pull her maid aside and say, ‘It’s fine. No one will bother you if you run illicit errands.’”
I had to muffle a giggle with my fist. “What you might do,” I suggested, “is let Elyssa go for a walk in the botanical gardens. She used to meet with him there, usually in the morning. Maybe he still goes there, hoping she’ll come by.”
“That’s a good idea,” Jordan approved. “The weather should be a bit warmer tomorrow—we will propose an outing to her. She will be escorted, of course, but she might find a way to communicate with him even so.”
“If he’s there.”
Jordan nodded. “Even if he’s not. An outing to the botanical gardens can hardly be considered a waste of time.”
Elyssa reacted with such joy to news of an excursion that you would have thought she had been named queen of the Seven Jewels. The following morning, she was up and out of bed only slightly past dawn, and she was so impatient while Trima dressed her that Trima repeatedly had to tell her to stand still. Naturally, the echoes would accompany Elyssa on this outing, so Trima had to spend some time dressing us as well, but we were all scrubbed and ready to go well before the breakfast trays were brought around.
Marietta and her echo joined us in the hallway and we all clattered down to the courtyard, where carriages were awaiting us. So were about eight royal guards, all sporting official red-and-black uniforms. I was delighted to learn that Jordan formed a member of our party, but I was surprised to see that his sister, Annery, and her echoes were with him.
“I suppose you have no fear that the young princess will be corrupted by revolutionaries like us,” Marietta said in her forthright way.
Jordan bestowed a chilly smile on her. “Annery has so many demons of her own to fight that she won’t even notice the two of you,” he replied. “But I hoped she might enjoy a chance to stroll through the gardens.”
I thought the young princess looked too sullen and unhappy to enjoy anything, but Jordan’s kindness toward her melted my heart. He helped her into the first carriage while servants assisted the rest of us into a second one, and we were on our way.
By the time we had arrived at the gardens and were sauntering along its winding paths, I was almost as giddy as Elyssa. The sun shone so mightily that the air almost felt warm, and it was such a relief to be outside of the palace for an hour that I felt as if the entire world had been offered up for me to devour in a single gulp. The garden was not nearly so attractive in the winter, with no flowers in bloom and all the fountains dry, but there was still much to admire. The spiky skeletons of bare trees stenciled dramatic patterns across the cloudless sky; evergreens whispered together in shadowed groves, sharing their memories of summer. Ivy climbed in runners of blazing scarlet across gazebos and sundials and shivering statues.
It was such a fine day that dozens of other visitors had decided to make a pilgrimage to the park. There were couples strolling slowly, hand in hand; harried mothers chasing after rambunctious children; old men wrapped in their long, patched coats, pacing along with their heads together as they traded stories of improbable winters and glorious springs.
Young men lurking behind tall bronze statues, watching the world parade past.
I might not have spotted Marco if I hadn’t felt Elyssa’s head jerk in his direction and then, almost as abruptly, swing forward again. Her whole body tingled with the alarm and excitement of seeing him there. I could almost feel her blood yearning in his direction. I looked that way and saw him standing stiff and straight behind the imposing metal figure of some past military hero,
almost obscured by the soldier’s broad shoulders and bristling weaponry. His eyes watched her with a hunger as deep as her own.
It was tricky to draw Jordan’s attention while not rousing Elyssa’s suspicion. They were walking side by side and I was a few paces behind them, so I couldn’t even send him a quick, meaningful look. Instead, I slowed, which caused Marietta’s echo to bump into me and stumble into the path of a soldier, who uttered a curse and veered away to avoid trampling her. The commotion was slight, but Jordan heard it and glanced over his shoulder at me. I cut my eyes toward the statue and nodded once. He inclined his head very slightly in return before facing forward again. But a couple of moments later I saw him casually intercept one of his guards and murmur a few words in his ear.
At the very least, it seemed someone would be able to identify Marco. I didn’t want to think too much about what might happen to him next.
Once we were twenty or third yards beyond Marco’s hiding place, Elyssa suddenly pulled up with an exclamation of annoyance. “Hold on—something’s gotten in my shoe.” She hobbled over to sit on a nearby bench and shake out an imaginary pebble. The echoes and I sat beside her, copying every action. Our hands moved with hers as she braced her fist on the back edge of the bench, then casually opened her fingers to let something fall soundlessly to the ground. I didn’t look to see, but I was sure it was a crumpled ball of paper.
A moment later, we were all on our feet and rejoining the group. I could tell by Elyssa’s rising euphoria that she felt hundreds of pounds lighter. Jordan didn’t look my way again, so I couldn’t direct his attention to the letter, but I supposed it didn’t matter. If some of the king’s men were following Marco, they would see him pick up the note and decide whether or not to seize it.
Part of me was filled with a grim elation that Elyssa would be made to pay for some of her terrible cruelties. And part of me felt oddly sad for her. The emotion was so fresh and unexpected that I didn’t know what to do with it, so I simply shoved it away.
We had been walking for about an hour, and the chilly air was beginning to defeat the valiant sunshine, when we heard urgent footsteps behind us. The nobles, the royals, and their echoes turned swiftly in response, but the soldiers were even faster, instantly raising weapons and falling into a battle formation to protect the prince and princess from danger.
But the man racing in our direction wore palace livery and a look of dread. “Liege,” he panted, as the soldiers parted to allow him to address Jordan. “The king wants you back with all speed. There’s been a skirmish on the Charamon Road and so many are dead.”
Jordan strangled an oath and shot Marietta a look of anger. “So all your talk of negotiating was just a sham?” he demanded.
But Marietta looked just as appalled. “No, I swear it! No one in Alberta wants bloodshed. I thought—we thought—”
Jordan turned his back on her. “No point in discussing it now,” he said, striding toward the gates. “I will see what my father has to say.”
As we all hustled back to the waiting carriages, I didn’t see a single soldier stay behind to intercept Marco. I supposed news of war trumped rumors of assassins, but it still made me feel peculiar to think that Marco had slipped through the net so easily. The whole outing had been a waste of time, then—from the king’s point of view. From Elyssa’s, a success.
I sighed and waited my turn to be handed into the carriage. Closing my eyes, I lifted my face so I could feel one last caress of sunshine across my cheek. I would count the excursion as a success on my part, too, for no other reason than that.
Over the next few days, information came first with frustrating slowness and then with horrifying detail. There was no news at all for the rest of that day, but the following morning, Harold summoned us to the rose parlor where he had entertained us upon our arrival. He was standing, staring out one of the windows, and he did not bother to look at Elyssa or Marietta when they entered and curtseyed.
“Five hundred men dead in two days of fighting,” he said, speaking to the windowpane. “An entire battalion of soldiers from Thelleron—handpicked by the governor. They were led by Vivienne’s uncle, who is also dead.”
Marietta looked like she was having trouble keeping her balance or remembering her bloodlines. “Vivienne—?” she repeated stupidly.
“The affianced bride of my son Cormac. One day to be queen of the Seven Jewels.” He was briefly silent before adding, “I certainly will be expected to avenge his death.”
“Majesty, I am so, so sorry.”
He nodded. “Would you like to hear the names of the Alberta men who have fallen?”
Elyssa caught her breath, but Marietta merely said, “Yes.” The king reeled them off, but none of them were people I recognized. Elyssa flinched at one name; Marietta dropped her face in her hands at another.
“The list is incomplete, of course,” Harold went on. He still hadn’t looked at them. “We are more than a day behind events because of the time it takes for news to travel from the battlefield. Everyone you love could already be dead.”
“Majesty—”
Harold silenced Marietta with a wave of his hands. “I’ll keep you informed as I learn more.”
Ten hours later, another summons, another list of names. This time, the heaviest losses had come from Pandrea and Empara. A nephew of the queen’s had been killed. “There’s an incentive for the rebels to keep fighting,” Harold said. “Even if I release Tabitha to them, the Devenettas will never be appeased.”
In the morning, more terrible news. The youngest brother of the Banchura triplets, fallen in battle. Three more Alberta lords that both Marietta and Elyssa knew. One of the sons of Lord Garvin of Orenza.
“Three of his children dead,” Harold whispered. “All of those deaths laid at my door. You wanted civil war? You have it. Nothing will stop the bloodshed now.”
Shortly after the noon meal, when Harold presented the latest list of losses to his hostages, Marietta refused to leave the room quietly. “What are you doing to stop this terrible slaughter?” she demanded, aiming her words at his back, since he delivered the name of every casualty to the wall or to the window. “I thought you had emissaries on the way to attempt to negotiate.”
That did make him spin around to face her. “Oh, did I not mention it? They were ambushed and killed before they even made it to the battlefield.”
She winced but did not look away. “Then send someone else. And someone else. Or are you content to just watch hundreds and thousands more die?”
“I would send you, if I thought every emissary was likely to meet the same fate,” he shot back.
She smiled coldly. “And I would go, if it meant I was trying to do some good instead of just moping.”
His features drew together in an angry snarl. “Careful,” he warned. “I have nothing to gain any longer by treating you well.”
“And nothing to lose by sitting down with me and trying to devise a plan!” she countered. “There must be some bargain you can make, some truce we can negotiate! If you are afraid to send anyone else to enemy lines, then, yes! I will carry an offer for you. But we must try something.”
“You think I have not been meeting with advisors, frantically trying to come up with solutions? What a very poor king you think I am. No wonder you are rebelling.”
She brushed that aside. “Then bring them in—your sons and your councilors—and let us see if we can hash this out together.”
Harold eyed her for a moment with something that might have been hatred tinged with capitulation. “Representatives of the eastern provinces will be here later this afternoon to discuss the situation,” he said at last. “You may sit in the room with us if you like. Though you must know I will regard anything you say with suspicion.”
“Then maybe your friends will show more sense,” she snapped. He hadn’t dismissed her yet, but she gathered her skirts and stalked toward the door. “Just let me know when they have arrived.”
Three hours
later we entered one of the much bigger sitting rooms to join a convocation of angry, worried, thoughtful, desperate nobles. Elyssa had not been invited, but she told Marietta that the king would have to have her forcibly removed from the room if he didn’t want her to attend, and so I got to see the whole proceedings.
When we entered, the nobles were grouped around a large, polished wooden table, while their echoes sat in inconspicuous chairs scattered around the perimeter. Harold, Cormac, and Jordan had taken their places at the head of the table, so I found a chair that would allow me to watch their faces. Jordan made a point of glancing at each of Elyssa’s echoes until he located me; he couldn’t bring himself to smile, but he did give me the smallest nod.
I didn’t recognize any of the other participants, though I guessed them to be the parents and grandparents of some of the lords and ladies we had met last summer. The large, powerfully built man with the fair complexion, gray hair, and full beard might very well have been the father of the Banchura triplets; his face showed enough grief that I could believe he had just lost a son in battle. The dark-skinned woman with opals braided into her hair might have been Lord Dezmen’s mother, and the woman beside her his aunt. I didn’t see anyone who looked particularly like Vivienne, but I was sure someone at the table would be from Thelleron.
“I believe you all know each other, so let’s get started,” Harold said, and there were a few rumbles of assent.
“Is there any news from the front?” asked the Banchura lord.
Harold nodded soberly. “The rebel armies have pushed the defenders back a few miles, so they are that much closer to the city.” At the murmur of alarm that went through the room, the king added, “I understand that the retreat was strategic, to place our own forces in a more defensible position. But the rebels appear to consider our fallback their victory, and there was much celebrating, I am told.”
“There will be much grieving when we attack with our full forces,” muttered a thin, sleek, crafty-looking man. He was wearing a large garnet ring, so I guessed he was from Sammerly.