Nameless Queen

by Rebecca McLaughlin

  Hat jumps to her feet eagerly.

  “Now,” Esther says, “I want us to work on three things. One: I want you to make it so I can’t see you. Two: make me see you somewhere else. Three: control a secondary illusion while you fight, like snakes or storm clouds or lightning. The things you want to practice most are not letting the magic distract you from the fight and not letting the fight distract you from the magic.”

  I groan. “I’m not good at multitasking. I’m good at focusing. One thing, over and over until I’m an expert.”

  “In duels,” Esther explains, “there is going to be very little physical contact. Mostly swords and padded clothing. If you do get ahold of someone, though, you can put them to sleep or use something in their memories against them. If you can find out what they fear, you can find a way to control them. If I was afraid of snakes or spiders, for example, you could use those against me.”

  “Or snake-spiders,” I say.

  Esther smiles. “You may remember that visual hallucinations are the easiest, but if you want to make people hear or feel things, it’s more difficult. It all gets easier with physical contact, because that’s what gives you direct access into their mind.”

  “So why can’t I just look at a challenger and make them feel pain?” I say, knowing I sound a bit like a monster.

  “It’s dicey,” Esther says. “It’s not as effective as you think. As soon as you stop, it fades pretty fast, since it wasn’t real to begin with. You could stop someone in the middle of a fight and make them stumble, but it would be unlikely to convince them to stop dueling you. What was the first thing you did with your abilities?”

  I sigh, trying to remember. “I saw the memory of a Royal and got my first glimpse of King Fallow on his deathbed. Then, in the market, when Hat was in danger, this idiot cadet was about to use his secondary weapon to execute her for an unconfirmed class-one offense! I shouted to quiet down the marketplace, and I think I used my ability to make sure everyone heard me. I didn’t quite understand my abilities yet, but that’s what happened.”

  Esther appraises me. “I’d like to point out that the first time you used your abilities was to help someone. The first time I used mine was to steal sweets from the kitchen. But…the way you talk about your life is…It’s a series of insane events, and you talk about them so casually.”

  “It’s my normal,” I say with a shrug. “Or it was.”

  Esther gestures at the pair of us, practicing magic and sparring in preparation for the Assassins’ Festival. “I think it’s still your normal.”

  “And you give speeches,” I say, “and live your life as a stage actor. That must seem normal to you. Do you wonder if King Fallow, when he talked about the crowns being reunited, which of us he meant? I mean, obviously he thought something was supposed to happen since I’m Nameless. But I don’t know what that is.”

  “I think he meant for it to be you,” Esther says. “He didn’t choose to give me the crown. His brother did. He picked you. He didn’t pick me.”

  She stares distractedly up at the ceiling.

  “I guess we’re both in the dark,” I say.

  “I don’t know exactly what he thought would happen or what he was afraid would happen,” Esther says. “All I know is that I’m going to help you stay alive.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Okay, then. I want you to create the illusion of rain,” she says, “and I want you to maintain it when I come at you.” She wipes at her skin, brushing off invisible flecks of rainwater.

  Hat giggles at the absurdity of it. Neither of us can see what Esther sees.

  Esther lashes out and, after a few jabs, stops.

  “The illusion slipped,” she says.

  I groan in frustration and punch the wall with my gloved fist.

  “I think I might know why it’s so difficult for you,” Esther says. “You’ve already seen your disadvantage, what Belrosa can do to you. You’re letting it get in your head and distract you.”

  I imagine a bolt of lightning at Esther’s feet, and she yelps as it strikes. Then she growls at me.

  “Lashing out won’t make you better at this,” she says.

  “What will?” I shout. “We only have one week left. I can’t do it.”

  “Come after me,” she encourages. “You keep fighting defensively. You need to be offensive! You need to take control.”

  “When I run a con,” I say, “I don’t plan for everything to go perfectly. I plan for things to fall apart. In every scenario, I know how to escape. I live my life on the defensive. But what you’re asking me to do—face Belrosa in a duel in front of everyone at the Assassins’ Festival—is the opposite of an escape plan.”

  “So what do you have planned for this moment?” Esther says, picking up a sword from the long table.

  I know she’s trying to bait me. It’s working. Glenquartz’s training runs through my head: get a comparable weapon, take up a stance at a safe distance, and prepare to fight. But the only sword is the one in Esther’s hand.

  “Even the playing field,” Esther commands. “Open a chasm between us. Surround me with walls. But know that even though I can see the illusion, I’ll know it isn’t real. Level the playing field.” She advances more quickly, and I skirt around the edge of the table to keep the distance between us.

  “I’m older and stronger than you,” Esther adds. “I have an army at my command. You need to find a way to stop me.”

  “Level the playing field,” I agree. “But how do you expect to fight me with no weapon?” I point at the sword in her hand, except I’m using every speck of energy I have to compel her to forget the sword. Just like the pillows in the dungeon, I imagine nothing but air.

  Shock passes over her features as she flexes her fingers, and I have to remember to also compel her hand not to feel anything. As if on command, her hand goes slack, and the sword clatters to the floor. The sound of it startles her, and I take two long strides, picking it up as I go, and place an arm against her throat and rest the flat of the blade on her shoulder.

  “Why pick an even playing field when I can have the advantage?” I say. I release my illusion on the sword, and she can suddenly feel the cold of the blade against her skin.

  “That was great!” she says. “I wouldn’t have thought of that! I thought you’d make me see another sword or weapon. You did great!”

  I glow with pride.

  “Now all you have to do is learn how to create and sustain an illusion,” Esther says.

  “You make it sound easy,” I say. “But I can barely do it at all. I can’t see what I’m creating.”

  She nods, trying to understand. “I suppose that if I were to put my hand out and tell you that I’m holding a small bird, anyone else in the room would see it. I would see it. Once I see it, I can shape it and improve it. I can keep it around for a very long time.” She moves her hand as if petting a small animal. “In fact, I did. As a child, I made a violet bird and kept it as an imaginary pet. I named her Ray-la.” She smiles a wistful smile and then closes her fist. “But I suppose you can’t have that, and it makes it more difficult to maintain an illusion. We’ll start more slowly, then. We’ll practice making illusions and then maintaining them, and then maintaining them while you fight. I’ll join you for your sparring lessons with Glenquartz, and you can train for both at once. Don’t worry. We still have about a week. More than enough time.”

  “Six days,” I correct, “if we’re being exact. That doesn’t feel like a very long time.”

  “The hallucinations you create can look and feel very real,” Esther explains. “It’s important to remember they’re not real. But anything that distracts your dueler puts you at an advantage. Just keep in mind that anyone from the Nameless army in the audience won’t see the illusions. You need to get better at this. It’s not going to come easi
ly.”

  “What about what I did during the fires, making Glen hallucinate that the fire wasn’t there?” I say defensively.

  “That was instinct. This is skill.” She claps her hands. “Focus.”

  “So, the advantage is that I can create these distractions and not be distracted by them myself?”

  “Yes.”

  “But if I can’t see them, how do I know they’re working?” I ask. “I have no concept of what these hallucinations are like, so how can I effectively sustain them?”

  Hat is watching us, and she’s snacking on a bowl of salted treats. “I have an idea.” She brushes her hands off on her pants. “The problem is that Coin’s making these fancy hallucinations or illusions or whatever, but she and I can’t see them, right?”

  “Right,” Esther says.

  “You can see the hallucination, though, yes?” Hat says.

  “That’s the whole point,” Esther says, “but she can’t.”

  Hat joins us on the mat, bouncing excitedly from foot to foot. “But here’s the thing. Coin can read your memories, right? See what you see? Including the hallucination?” She points between the two of us. “Imagine something cool. Something super cool. Like fire and electric sparks! With…red-and-black smoke!”

  I place my hand up in the air, facing upward. I imagine a flame, then a small ball of fire. I tell it to have golden flames with white-blue sparks. Then the smoke: I imagine it rotating upward slowly as a dense black spiral with flares of red.

  Esther is alight with interest, and I close my hand and drop it to my side.

  If this is going to be the first time I see one of my own hallucinations, I want it to be good. Or at least as good as I can make it so I know how much I have to improve.

  Esther holds out her hand. “Well? I’m definitely thinking about what I just saw, so whenever you’re ready to read my thoughts…”

  I hesitate. I’ve never quite been able to understand what it is I do.

  “What if it’s really, really bad?” I wring my hands together for a moment before laying a hand on top of Esther’s.

  I see myself for the first time from someone else’s perspective. I’m a little taller than Esther, but I’m standing casually, haphazardly holding a blade in one hand with the other hand facing upward.

  In my palm, a single spark of flame crackles to life. The flame flickers with blue electricity, and then smoke begins to coil upward. The smoke rises. It’s textured like cloth and spins with bands of red and black. It’s amazing.

  I let go of Esther’s hand, and the images, the memories, vanish.

  “You can see the hallucinations you create, right?” I ask. “Then show me what you can do.”

  Esther puts out her hand. I can tell she’s watching something happen. It lasts five or six seconds.

  “That should be more than enough,” she says, and she puts out her hand once again.

  I take it, and every detail of her memory blossoms in my mind. There’s a small violet bird in her palm. It teeters to its feet, stretches its wings, and launches into the air with a screeching squawk, trailing behind its wings a storm of black clouds, which blanket the entire room, as if my vision has gone dark.

  I feel the damp against her skin and the humidity in her lungs.

  Then she lets go of my hand, and the memory vanishes. I search the wide room, expecting the bird to fly out of a dark corner.

  “I’m guessing that was Ray-la?” I say, pointing at where the imaginary bird disappeared.

  “Yes,” Esther says.

  “You didn’t tell me your pet was a scary creature of darkness.” I chuckle, and Esther grins. Then Esther withdraws a circle of metal from the bag she brought with her. It’s a patterned, stylized circlet.

  “Is that a crown?” I ask.

  “It is,” she says. “This was going to be the crown I wore when I stepped forward as queen. It’s simple, but strong. You should wear it tomorrow at the festival. It will remind people of your position.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so. That’s yours. And we’re not even sure I’ll be walking out of that arena alive, let alone with the tattoo.”

  Esther runs a finger along the metal circlet. “I want you to wear it.”

  I keep forgetting how convinced she is that I’m meant to be queen. I take the circlet and inspect the braided metal. It’s beautiful, in its own way, but it’s cold in my hand. I feel her aura poised like a frog about to leap. She waits for me to try it on.

  “I’ll just…put this someplace safe, shall I?” I offer. Before she can object, I escape the sparring room and take the circlet to my sleeping quarters. All the while, it slowly warms against my skin. By the time I stow it in the wardrobe, it almost feels comfortable in my grasp.

  When I get back to the sparring room, I stop outside the door when I overhear Esther and Hat talking to each other.

  “I can tell that you look up to her,” Esther says.

  I lean up against the door, listening in.

  “We’re…” Hat struggles to continue. “Sometimes I can’t tell if she’s scared of caring about me or scared of losing me. But I’m not asking her to be my mother or anything. I want to be her friend. We can have each other’s backs, but she doesn’t get that yet. She still thinks I’m a kid.”

  “You guys seem really close,” Esther says.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “What would you call it?” Esther asks.

  “Well,” Hat says, “I’m not sure what you call it when you care about someone and they’re afraid to care about you because they already care about you too much. We’re not quite friends. I don’t know what we are. But we’re something. I mean, you don’t rush out to the gallows to save just anyone from execution, right? What we are…I guess it’s Nameless.” And pride fills her voice.

  “Isn’t that difficult?” Esther asks. “Don’t you want to define it or understand it?”

  “Gaiza,” Hat says. “Every time I try to understand Coin, I take twenty steps in the wrong direction. But some of the best things are Nameless, I think. Like…like that feeling you get somewhere between your heart and your stomach when you’re about to pickpocket someone. It’s a mix of fear and excitement, and you have no idea what’s going to happen next. That whole big feeling? There isn’t a name for it. It’s Nameless.”

  I hear the smile in Esther’s voice when she echoes Hat’s words. “And some of the best things are Nameless.”

  CHAPTER 21

  For the rest of the day, I do my best to avoid the Royal Council, and I have my dinner brought straight to the sparring room. The last thing I want to do is run into Belrosa or Marcher in the corridors.

  I don’t even feel comfortable staying in the guest quarters tonight. Everyone knows that’s where I’ve been sleeping. If anyone feels inclined to murder me in the morning to steal the crown tattoo, it’s best they don’t know where I am. We consider if I should stay in the king’s quarters, but that’s not an unreasonable place for someone to look either.

  In the end, the four of us go to the top floor of the Fallow tower to spend the night in Esther’s home. The tower is quiet and dark, and the only two auras I sense from this high up are Esther’s and Glenquartz’s. Esther takes a bright velvet chaise, and the remaining three of us take the oversized bed. Esther douses the lantern. In the darkness, I listen to them breathing. After a while, dark shapes crisp into edges and objects with depth.

  I know parts of a lullaby. Some of the tune I picked up over the years, mumbled by mothers to their children. Some of it I heard in Esther’s memory of her mother. Tonight I hum the tune gently, more breath than notes. I tap the rhythm against the ribbed decorations on the dagger’s sheath.

  I sit awake, guarding my friends. Maybe this is what a family is. Not the crew of orphans guided and guarded by Marcher, and not t
he strings of last names and color-coordinated dresses here in the palace. Maybe it’s this: staying awake, listening to them breathe, humming a lullaby.

  Without a watch, it’s hard to tell how much time passes. Out on the street, I would light a candle and mark off the hours along the wax. When the candle burned past its mark, we’d switch shifts. Now I simply stare out into the dark room, following the curving gray outlines of bodies beneath blankets.

  When morning comes, I’m surprised to find I actually fell asleep.

  Esther is already up, sitting in the cushioned window seat.

  “I was going to wait a bit longer before waking anyone,” she says.

  Faint light is just starting to brighten the hues of the room, casting a glittery glow from the translucent curtains onto the ceiling. Everything is warm.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Esther says, staring at us.

  Glenquartz sleeps on his side in full uniform, and Hat is curled up in a ball between us. Her body is still accustomed to curling for warmth on cold nights.

  I gently rise from the bed so I don’t disturb them. “Precious.”

  It hurts to think that they’d be just as beautiful if I wasn’t here.

  “I mean everything about this moment,” Esther says. “You. Me. Sisters. One Royal and one Nameless. Glenquartz and Hat, one Legal and one Nameless. Think of everything it took for this moment to happen: the four of us sleeping in one room…almost like…” Her eyes flutter and she looks away, not finishing her thought. “When people call you the impossible heir, I think this is what they’re afraid of. After everything and despite everything, when we’re all alone and scared, we come together, no matter what.”

  If I was any kind of gracious, I would tell her in this moment that yes, we are sisters. That yes, we are family, we can be a family. We can be everything to one another that each of us has always hoped for. We can love one another. But I can’t bring myself to say it, because it doesn’t seem like enough.