The Queen's Resistance

by Rebecca Ross

  My breaths were heavy as I finished reading the account. The relief almost bowed me over, melting my strength, to know that Ewan had only come for his sister. That Ewan had no hand in Declan’s escape. That Ewan had chosen me over his own father.

  “Do you have any idea how Declan and the children escaped the dungeons?” Isolde asked. “Because they did not pass through the gates.”

  The bone sweeper dipped the quill in the ink, painstakingly writing, They rode the currents.

  “Rode the currents?” Isolde echoed. “What does that mean?”

  “There’s a river that flows beneath the castle, through the dungeons,” I explained, remembering how I had heard the distant churning of it. I looked to the bone sweeper and asked, “Can you lead us there?”

  They nodded, slowly rising.

  They led us down one corridor, then another, the passage growing narrow and shallow. And then it opened up into a cavern, so suddenly one might step from the ledge into the rapids. We stood and held our light to it; I could see the stone beneath me was stained black from years of accumulated blood. And beyond it was the river, raging through the darkness. It was not wide, but I could tell it was deep and powerful.

  “They took the currents,” Isolde said with disbelief. “Can anyone survive this?”

  “If anyone could, it would be Declan.” Jourdain stepped as close to the edge as he dared.

  “The river will take them to the ocean,” I stated, my heart beginning to hammer. “We should ride to the shore. Now.”

  I turned, looking for the bone sweeper, to thank them for their guidance.

  But there was nothing but shadows and cold, empty air where they had once stood.

  The stars were beginning to fade into dawn by the time Isolde, Jourdain, the guards, and I reached the Maevan coast. The city of Lyonesse was built on a summit, where the ocean met the earth. For hundreds of years, the waves had crashed upon the limestone walls of the shore, always reaching but never conquering the great wall that kept the elements divided, the wall that protected the city from the depths. But that underground river would take Declan straight to the bay, directly into the water. He was going to escape through a small divide in that natural wall. It almost seemed impossible, but this was a land built upon challenges and insurmountable odds. Nothing these days should take me by surprise.

  My greatest fear was that Declan and the children had ridden the currents into the bay and then promptly boarded a ship in the harbor, and that we were too late to catch them. They could sail west, to the icy lands of Grimhildor. Or they could sail south, to either Valenia or Bandecca. We might never recover them.

  I saw this same fear in Jourdain as we approached the harbor, the boats and ships quietly bobbing in their berths. For this was how he and Luc had escaped twenty-five years ago. This was how Braden Kavanagh and Isolde had escaped. How my father and I had escaped. A Burke captain had taken the six of us aboard his ship while Gilroy Lannon was busy hunting us north, in the heart of our own territories. All it took was one brave man and his ship to grant us freedom.

  “Check the departure logs,” Isolde rasped to Jourdain as we searched among the quay.

  I came to a stop and stared at the horizon. The sun was rising, forging a trail of gold on the ocean. The water was calm, gentle this morning. There was no sign of a ship, no distant shadow of a mast or sails.

  I shifted my gaze farther down the bay. The tide was out, exposing the sand, the foundation of the limestone walls.

  I began to walk to it, faster, faster, until I was running. I heard Isolde shouting for me, but I could not break my gaze from that sand, from the footsteps sunk within it, because the tide was rising, beginning to fill them. I reached it, the prints unfolding before me. They were Ewan’s footprints, I was almost sure of it. And then there was another set, coming alongside him. Keela’s. And then there was Declan’s, as if he had come out of the water last. The prince was a big man, and he had crushed the sand in a hurry. It looked as if he had taken hold of his children and dragged them along.

  Their footprints did not lead to the harbor.

  I stopped walking, my boots sinking into the sand, the tide beginning to wash around my ankles.

  “Aodhan!” Isolde called for me. I could hear her running to me, through the swell of the waves.

  My eyes followed the footprints to the wall. And then up, up the limestone, where the city lay above, just now awakening.

  Isolde finally reached my side, panting, her hair snarled by the wind. “What is it? What do you see?”

  I couldn’t answer her. Not yet. My mind was swarming with possibilities, and I followed the footprints to the wall, the tide rushing in alarmingly quick now. I found a crack in the rock to hold to, and then another. I began to lift myself up, up the wall, my fingers and the tips of my boots forcing their way into nooks and crannies.

  I didn’t dare go any higher, but I clung to the wall and gazed upward at the daunting stretch of it, watching the clouds streak across the sky.

  Was it even possible?

  I let go, jumping back to the sand and water with a painful jar of my ankles. I waded my way to where Isolde and her guards waited, Jourdain rushing to rejoin us from the harbor.

  “I checked the logs,” Jourdain said. “No ships left or arrived last night, Lady.”

  “They didn’t leave by ship,” I stated.

  “Then where are they?” Jourdain countered.

  I looked back to the bay, the sand nearly swallowed by the incoming tide. “The currents emptied them out somewhere around here. Declan dragged the children from the water to the wall.”

  “The wall?” Jourdain’s eyes swept it. His mouth hung open. “You cannot be serious.”

  But Isolde was staring at me, believing my every word.

  And I lifted my eyes up again, to the sky, to the city of Lyonesse, to the castle that sat at the top of the summit like a sleeping dragon.

  Where would your father take you, Ewan?

  The light was strengthening; Declan would have found a place to hide by now. Until the darkness gave him the ability to move undetected. My one hope was that Ewan would somehow make a way to be found.

  I’m a Morgane now. . . .

  “Declan climbed the wall with the children on his back,” I said, meeting Isolde’s gaze. “He’s in the city.”

  We didn’t linger; we hurried back to the castle, my mind splintering in several directions. I was so distracted that I didn’t notice the Hallorans standing in the courtyard until we were almost upon them.

  Lady Halloran and Pierce were seemingly deep in conversation with each other until the lady caught sight of us. There was no hiding that we were rushing, that the queen and I were still half-drenched from searching along the shore.

  “Lady Kavanagh!” Lady Halloran cried, moving to intercept us on the flagstones. She was dressed in her House colors, gold and navy, and her gown was so elaborate it could have rivaled the hyperbolic fashion of Valenia.

  “Lady Halloran,” Isolde returned politely, trying to maintain her quickened pace.

  “Has something happened?”

  Isolde slowed, but it wasn’t to accommodate Lady Halloran; it was to shoot a glance at me and Jourdain.

  “Why would you presume such, Lady?” Isolde asked. “Lord MacQuinn, Lord Morgane, and I were just taking some air before our council meeting.”

  She was prompting one of us to gather Luc, Brienna, and her father. And by the way Jourdain was standing at Isolde’s side scowling at Lady Halloran, as if his feet had grown roots . . . I figured I should be the one to go and prepare the council.

  Only Pierce sauntered up to join us. I could not hide my distaste for him, and I had to stand a moment more, to watch him. His eyes were fixated on Isolde, on the Stone of Eventide’s light, but he must have felt my stare. His eyes shifted to me as he came to a stop beside his mother, and there his eyes remained, assessing how great of a threat I was. I must not have struck him as dangerous, because he snort
ed and smiled, and then elected to ignore me, ogling the queen once more.

  “I wanted to request a private meeting with you, Lady,” Lady Halloran was saying. “Perhaps later today? When you have time?”

  “Yes, of course, Lady Halloran,” Isolde replied. “I could meet with you sometime this afternoon, after my council meeting.” She was prompting me again, her patience waning, and this time I moved, leaving them without another word.

  The castle was alarmingly quiet. There were armored guards at every corner, but the silence sat heavy in the air, this attempt to maintain order and hide the fact that three Lannons had escaped. Eventually, though, this would leak, and I was not certain how the nobles would meet the news. Nor was I certain how Lannon supporters would respond.

  It filled me with apprehension as I walked to Jourdain’s chambers, where we had left Brienna and Luc studying maps of the city, tracing possible escape routes that Declan might have taken. They were no longer there; it felt like the room had been empty for some time, and so I went to her quarters, and then Luc’s. Still, I could not find them, and I turned myself back into the corridor, heading to the dining hall, thinking that maybe they had gone to eat.

  I ran into Isolde’s father on the way there. He looked exhausted; purple shadows were smudged beneath his eyes, and his white hair was still bound by yesterday’s braids. I knew he had been overseeing a covert search of the castle for Fechin, the master guard who had all but vanished, and several of the castle guards were in his shadow, awaiting his next order.

  Braden Kavanagh cocked his brow at me, and I saw the hopeful question in his expression. Did you find them?

  I shook my head. “Council meeting at once. I’m trying to locate the MacQuinns.”

  “They’re in the records chamber, one story below in the eastern wing.”

  I nodded and we continued on our separate ways, Braden to search the storerooms, me to the records chamber. I found Luc and Brienna sitting at a round table, ledgers and maps and papers spread out before them, as if a heavy snow had fallen. Brienna was still in her chemise, her hair unwinding from her braid, writing down something Luc was saying to her.

  They both glanced up at my entry, that same hope in their eyes, that I had arrived to tell them good news. I shut the door and walked closer to them, and Brienna read my face. She set down her quill in defeat while Luc whispered, “Please tell me you recovered them.”

  “No.” My gaze strayed beyond them to the open archway, a passage that led to a honeycomb of storage chambers; I could see portions of the records shelves, heavily laden with scrolls and tomes and tax records.

  Brienna, again, read my thoughts. “This room is secure.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She leveled her eyes at me. “Yes. Luc and I are the only ones in here.”

  I pulled out a chair and sat across from them, not realizing how exhausted I was. I took a moment to scrub my face with my hands; I could still smell the dungeons on my palms, that dank, moldy darkness.

  I began to tell them everything, of the bone sweeper and their account, of the underground currents, of the search along the shore.

  Brienna sat back in her chair, a smudge of ink on her chin, and said, “So Ewan did not double-cross you, as we thought.”

  “No, he did not,” I replied, unable to hide my relief. “He disobeyed me, which is to be expected, to save his sister when I could not. And I think both he and Keela are in great peril right now.”

  “Do you think Declan would harm them?” Luc asked, aghast.

  “Yes.”

  Brienna shifted in her chair, restless. I watched as she began to organize the papers before her, and my curiosity caught like a flame.

  “What is that?”

  “Well.” She cleared her throat. “Luc and I began to think like a Lannon. We kept tracing over the maps, thinking . . . where would Declan go? If he is still in the city, where could he hide? Of course, we were not sure. But it made us think back on our own revolution plans.”

  “We had safe houses,” Luc inputted. “Homes and shops that we knew would take us in unexpectedly if we ran into trouble.”

  “Exactly,” Brienna said. “And since we know there are Lannon sympathizers—the half-moon clan—we figured we could strive to uncover their locations, thinking Declan will seek shelter from one of them.”

  “How have you uncovered their locations, though?” I asked.

  “Scouring a map is not enough,” she continued. “And we do not have the time to go door to door and search every house in Lyonesse, pulling up sleeves. We need something to direct us. Luc and I decided to look through Gilroy Lannon’s tax records, to see which people he went easy on. I think that will be the swiftest way to get started.”

  “Let me see,” I rasped, reaching for her list.

  There were eleven establishments listed, ranging from taverns to silversmiths to a butcher. All of them hailed from Lannon House, and four of them were located in the southern hold of the city, where I felt like Declan was at the moment. My heart began to pound.

  “All of these places have gotten away with ridiculous tax pardons,” Brienna said. “And I believe it is because they had some sort of agreement with Gilroy.”

  I looked up at her, at Luc. “This is incredible. We need to meet with Isolde, to tell her what you both have found.”

  “Maybe we should meet with her in here, so we can keep searching through the records?” Brienna suggested, standing with a groan. “Although I am ravenous. I do not know how much more I can plot without tea and food.”

  “Why don’t the two of you clear the table, and I’ll send for some breakfast?” Luc said, heading for the door. “And I’ll tell the queen and Father to meet here.”

  “Very good,” Brienna said before Luc departed. But she left the clearing of the table to me as she stretched and walked to stand before the one window in the entire room, a tiny sliver of glass. The sunlight caught the linen of her chemise, illuminating her. I forgot about the list in my hands as I looked at her; I forgot Declan Lannon even existed.

  My silence made her turn around, to glance at me. And I do not know what sort of expression was on my face, but she walked to my side, to touch my hair.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  I returned to my task, gathering up the papers and records, and her fingers fell away from me. “I’ll be fine once we settle all of this.”

  She watched me for a moment, and then reached over the table to help, stacking the records. Her voice almost melded with the sound of the paper being gathered, but I heard her say, “We will find them, Cartier. Do not lose hope.”

  I sighed, longing for her optimism.

  I leaned back in my chair and looked at her, standing before me. There was still a thread of sunlight passing through her shift, gilding her hair. She looked otherworldly, as if she did not belong here. It made me ache, and my eyes dropped, down to the floor, where she was barefoot on the stones.

  “Aren’t you cold, Brienna?” I whispered, only so that I could swallow the longings I dare not speak.

  She smiled, amused. “I am now that you mention it. I didn’t have time to think about it before.”

  She sat at my side, and I threw my fur-lined cloak over her legs, and we sat together in companionable quiet, waiting for the others.

  Breakfast arrived first, and I settled for a cup of tea while Brienna filled her plate with cheese, salted ham, and a biscuit. She was halfway done when Isolde, Jourdain, Luc, and Braden joined us, thankful for the repast. All of us were weary and ragged, but this shared meal gave us a moment to regain ourselves.

  I listened as Brienna and Luc explained their list, which brightened the queen’s demeanor. She read it over and we pulled forth a map, placing a copper on the eleven locations.

  “We should start with the four southern establishments,” I suggested. “If Declan did indeed scale the wall, then he would have dropped down into the city somewhere around that area.”

&nbs
p; “I agree,” Brienna said. “I think the most likely of places is either this tavern, or this hostel.” She pointed to them on the map. “I think two of us should venture inside as guests, take a temporary half-moon on our wrists just in case we are questioned. And it should probably be Luc and me, since the rest of you would be swiftly recognizable.”

  “No, absolutely not,” Jourdain said, almost before Brienna could finish. He was pale with displeasure, but Brienna did not seem the slightest bit off put by his opposition. “I do not want you venturing into such dark places, Brienna.”

  “But have I not already ventured into dark places, Father?” she said.

  Jourdain was quiet, as if he was weighing his answers, trying to find the one that would best dissuade her. Eventually, he murmured, “All of the old tragedies end the same way, Brienna. As soon as the heroine is one step away from victory, she is cut down. Every time. And here we are, one step away from setting Isolde on the throne. I do not want to be one moment from victory only to see one of us killed.”

  “Your father is right,” I said, to which Brienna slid her eyes my way, half-closed with agitation. “But the worst of things has happened now, MacQuinn. Declan Lannon is loose in the streets, and he has support. This has the potential to grow rapidly out of our control. We must address this at once in the best way that we can.”

  “So we send my children into these corrupt places,” Jourdain said, a touch sardonic. “Then what?”

  “We scout them out, see if we can uncover Declan,” Luc answered.

  “And how are you to catch him, then?” Jourdain pressed, still angry. “The prince is a strong, powerful man. He scaled a wall with two children on his back, for gods’ sake!”

  Isolde set down her teacup, and we all glanced to her. “MacQuinn and Morgane, you will have forces waiting just beyond these places. If Lucas and Brienna find Declan, they will give you a signal, and you will descend, ready to capture him. I want him alive, and I want the children to be unharmed.”

  “What forces, Lady?” I asked. “Most of our fighting men and women are back home.”