by Sharon Shinn
“Doesn’t your friend Nico know about the building? Can we trust him?”
“Yes. And yes.”
“It might not be ideal, but I can’t think of a better place,” said Taeline. “And we’ll still need to find some way to get her out of the city.”
I wished I knew how to contact Chessie. I was certain she would help us spirit Marguerite out of Camarria if it meant the slightest disgrace or inconvenience for the inquisitor. Maybe I could ask Nico how to find her.
Or maybe it was best to leave him out of any schemes in case everything fell apart. I wasn’t sure what the punishment would be for aiding a condemned woman to escape, but I had to think it was severe. I could risk myself; Taeline was obviously prepared to put herself in harm’s way. But I didn’t want to endanger Nico.
Besides, he had already said he had no intention of saving her. This was something we had to do without him.
“I have money,” I said. “Yesterday I pawned all her jewels so we could pay for our trip to Ferrenlea. I’ll bring the money here and she can use it to go—somewhere.”
“Ferrenlea after all?” Taeline asked with a twist of her lips.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe Marguerite will have some ideas.”
Taeline nodded. “All right. It’s a crazy plan, but I don’t know that we can do any better.” She came to her feet and so did I, though I had to rest my hand on the table to keep my balance. I was so tired.
“When will you go to her?” I asked.
“Why not now?” She eyed me a moment. “Would you like to wait for me here? Is there something else you need to do?”
In fact, since I was not allowed to see Marguerite, I had no occupation at all. It was an odd feeling. “No,” I said. “Nothing. I’d be happy to stay, if that’s allowed.”
“This place has always been a sanctuary for outcasts,” she said. “You’d be welcome.”
In a moment she was gone. I sat back down at the table, wishing I had a book or a sewing project to help me pass the time. I kept glancing at the narrow bed pushed up against a wall. I had slept so poorly the night before that even that meager mattress looking inviting. There didn’t seem to be any reason not to lie down and close my eyes, and let my anxious, questing mind try to settle for just a few moments.
I probably fell asleep within five minutes. My dreams were chaotic and troubled, and I woke feeling both panic and disorientation. Where was I? Why did I feel so weighted with dread? What terrible thing had happened, lying just beyond the reach of memory? It was only a few seconds before the details all came rushing back to me, and then I wanted to bury my head under the flat pillow and take refuge in sleep again.
But there was a stir outside of my room—the sounds of women’s voices raised in eager questions and quick responses. I forced myself to stand up, smooth down my hair, and open my door.
Just down the hallway, right where the spiral staircase ended in an open space, Taeline was standing within a circle of priestesses. There were seven or eight of them, some in black robes, some in white or red. Taeline waved me over and they all turned to appraise me. I approached somewhat warily, but I saw welcome in all their faces. Several of them patted my arm or shoulder as I joined the group. I gathered that they all knew Marguerite’s situation and believed that she had had no choice but to defend herself against Jamison.
“Did you see her? What did she say?” I demanded.
“I saw her. There were three guards outside the door and more stationed up and down the hallway,” Taeline reported. “One of them came in with me and stayed the whole time, but he let us go into the second room and close the door.”
“How is she doing?” It was a stupid question, of course—how could she be doing?—but I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“She is surprisingly calm,” Taeline said gravely. “She knows what’s coming, and she’s afraid, but she seems reconciled to her fate. Relieved, almost, that the lying and pretending is done. And so grateful that you have escaped the inquisitor’s net. She asked me over and over if you were truly safe. The knowledge that you are seemed to give her great peace.”
“How have they treated her?”
“Well enough. She says they’ve brought food for her and the echoes—plain but decent. She’s been allowed no visitors except me.”
“You say you were able to see her in private,” I said. I glanced around at the other priestesses, wondering how much they knew. “Were you able to—give her anything? My ring, for instance?”
Taeline nodded, her face briefly lightening, though she wasn’t able to muster a smile. “Yes. She recognized it instantly and put in on her finger right away. She said, ‘I know I should give it back to her, because it means so much to Brianna, but it means so much more to me, right now, in this place.’ She was crying.”
The priestesses murmured their approval, even though they couldn’t know the whole story behind the ring. One or two of them patted me again on the arm and the back.
Taeline took a deep breath. “And I was able to slip off the extra robe and hide it behind her clothes in the armoire. But she doesn’t think she’ll be able to use it. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to leave because the guards are watching so closely. Indeed, when it came time for me to go, the guard stepped inside the bedroom and counted to make sure there were three women remaining behind—Marguerite and two echoes. She said a guard accompanies every maid who brings in a tray of food or a pitcher of water, and each time he counts how many women are left in the room. But she was willing to keep the robe anyway. Just in case.”
“Maybe she’ll get lucky,” I said. “Maybe the next set of soldiers won’t be so vigilant. Maybe they’ll be corrupt. I’ll bring you all her money, and you can take it to her tomorrow, and she can use it to bribe the guards. I’ll ask Nico to make sure the soldiers who are watching her tomorrow have a streak of greed.”
Taeline looked very tired and very sad. “Maybe,” she said.
The other priestesses closed around her, putting their arms on her shoulders and drawing her into a communal embrace. “You can’t lose hope,” one of them said. Another one added, “The goddess is merciful.” At different times, they each found a moment to touch their fingers to their foreheads, their chests, their lips. I found my hands automatically moving through the same ritual. I wasn’t sure I trusted the goddess to be merciful—or just or joyful—but I was willing to solicit help from any source. We needed so much of it.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” I told Taeline. “With the key. Just in case.”
She pulled free from the temple women long enough to give me a hug. Her arms felt so thin around my neck, as if grief had already started to whittle her away. “Just in case,” she repeated. “I’ll look for you then.”
I had no reason to hurry back to the palace, so I wandered through the city, visiting the few places I knew and finding my way to new ones. I crossed a dozen bridges I had never encountered before, several of them so old and crumbling they seemed to have fallen into permanent disuse, others busy with foot traffic even as the evening hours approached. At the apex of each one I paused to look down at the scene below, viewing rooftops, flower gardens, storefronts, warehouses, public squares, and private offices from my high vantage point. All these people, living lives I would never know anything about. All these people, utterly indifferent to my own triumphs and tragedies, my wildest hopes, my darkest fears. What connects us to other human beings? I wondered. Why do we choose to love some and wholly ignore others? What is it that leads us to care?
Knowledge, I decided. Experience. If I worked in that little fabric shop, if I lived in that house with the tidy garden, I would be friends with my fellow shopgirls and on good terms with my nearest neighbors. I would celebrate their happy news and weep at their losses, as they would cheer and mourn with me. I wouldn’t be viewing them from a cool, remote distance; I would be beside them, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.
If something happened to Marguerite—if t
he king carried out his vengeful punishment—would I find a community to be part of? Where would I go, where would I belong? Could I make Nico my whole world? How could I stay at the palace, in Camarria, if the king condemned Marguerite to death?
I didn’t know. What I did know, because I had done it before, was that it was possible to recover from grief. It was possible to build a fresh life around different people, new routines. It was possible to start over. But I thought this second blow would be even more devastating than the first one. I wasn’t sure how much strength I would have if a third one came along.
I passed through the flower markets on my way home, not intending to stop. What was the point? I was sure Marguerite would be unutterably grateful to receive a bouquet of fresh blossoms, but I wouldn’t be allowed to deliver them to her—and besides, since everyone thought I had betrayed her, it would seem odd if I brought gifts to her door.
But as I passed a stall where the owners were packing up for the day, one of them called out, “Half price if you buy now!” and I couldn’t help stopping. They had a fine selection of roses in almost every available color, but I was drawn to the ones so pale they looked white. They were miniatures, their petals clustered so densely around their yellow hearts that they had a weight and toughness. These would last a few days if I tacked them into a headband, I thought. All of my sewing materials had been brought to Nico’s room, along with my clothes and personal items, so I could actually embark on such a project tonight. And I needed a task, something to occupy my hands as well as my mind.
“I’ll take some,” I told the vendor. “These roses—and these— Oh, and a bit of that baby’s breath. No, none of those pink ones. Only white will do.”
The evening passed in a blur of thread and fabric and flowers because I had to make three headpieces, even though the ones for Patience and Purpose were much simpler than the version I made for Marguerite. Nico checked in on me once to see if I needed anything. He seemed bemused by my determination to complete the project but, on the whole, relieved that I found a distraction.
“Malachi wants me to come back, but I thought I should see if you made it safely through the day,” he said, pausing to kiss the top of my head and finger a length of tulle. I batted his hand away from the fabric.
“Dinner, if you could provide it. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t think to ask the priestesses for food. And when I got back to the palace, I went to the servants’ hall but—” I just shook my head. I didn’t want to relive those moments of hostility by describing the expressions I had seen on the faces of the abigails and maids.
“Of course,” Nico said quietly. “They all believe you betrayed your mistress.”
“Most of them despise me for it,” I said. “A few of them looked as if they admired me, instead. Those are the ones,” I added, “that I find the most disgusting.”
Nico nodded. “I’ll send Daniel to fetch you a meal. And make sure you’re fed in the morning.”
“I’m going back to the temple tomorrow,” I said.
He eyed me for a moment. “Plotting something?” he finally asked.
I held up one of the completed headpieces. “I want to give this to Taeline so she can give it to Marguerite.”
“And you’re plotting something.”
I shrugged. “It wouldn’t hurt if the guards stationed at Marguerite’s room tomorrow were open to earning a little extra cash.”
Nico shook his head. “I’m not saying all the inquisitor’s men have the highest moral standards, but colluding in the escape of the woman who murdered the king’s son? No one would risk the consequences of something so rash.”
“Well, then,” I said, bending over my task again, “I suppose I’m not plotting anything after all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I slept a little better that night but still woke very early, my mind already restless. I lay there more than an hour, thinking about the day at hand and the days to come.
When Nico opened his eyes, he yawned, turned on his side, and took me into his arms. “I like this,” he said, speaking into my hair. “Waking up next to you.”
“It’s the only good thing to come out of this situation.”
“Once Marguerite—once the king decides what should become of her—have you thought about what you plan to do next?” he asked. He was speaking carefully, I thought, trying not to sound opportunistic. You said you couldn’t stay with me because you were loyal to Marguerite, but you’ll be free once she’s dead. Will that change your mind?
“I’m having a hard time thinking beyond the present moment,” I confessed. “But I do know I want you in my future.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“I love you,” I said straight out, “but I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay in Camarria. If Marguerite is put to death and everyone thinks it’s because I lodged information against her, I certainly can’t stay at the palace.”
He drew me even closer and kissed the top of my head. “Maybe not,” he said. “But maybe. People forget things after a while.”
“I won’t be able to forget,” I said quietly.
He kissed me again and let that be his only answer.
“So. This afternoon is the trial,” I said.
“More like a reading of the accusation, a summation of the evidence, and the king’s disposition.”
“Is it a public event? Can I be there?”
He shook his head. “There will just be a few people in the room, including the councilors and the accused. But typically people who have an interest in the proceedings will gather in the hallway outside so they know the judgment as soon as it is handed down.”
“I want to be here for that.”
“I thought you were going to the temple.”
“I’ll make sure I’m back. What time will it be?”
“Three o’clock.”
I sat up. “Then I’d better get going.”
It didn’t take me long to return to the temple and hand over all the things I had gathered—the key to the empty building near Amanda Plaza, the satchel of money, and a woven sack where I had carefully layered the headpieces I had made for Marguerite and the echoes.
“If she doesn’t want the money, I’ll bring it back with me to the temple,” Taeline said, “and you can have it.”
“Why wouldn’t she want it?”
“If she thinks it won’t do any good. If she thinks it won’t buy her freedom.”
“If she doesn’t want the money, just keep it. Use it to help a widowed mother or a starving child.”
Taeline nodded. “What will you do—afterward?”
If enough people kept asking this question, I would have to come up with a better answer. “I don’t know. What will you do?”
“Go to Thelleron, as I planned. But with a heart so heavy it might chain me to the ground.”
“Yes,” I said. “I am afraid I will feel the same way.”
As before, having no responsibilities back at the palace, I dawdled on my way home. I even stopped at a food vendor’s to buy a midday meal, since I wouldn’t be welcome in the servants’ hall and I wasn’t sure I could count on Daniel at this time of day. The food was cheap and greasy, of much lower quality than I had grown accustomed to. Your fancy life has spoiled you, I jeered silently.
But my fancy life hadn’t shielded me from heartache. That came to all of us, whatever our stations in life.
I made sure I was back well before the three o’clock hour. The king would hear evidence and announce a verdict in the throne room—the huge chamber where Marguerite and all the visiting nobles had had their audience with royalty shortly after they arrived. Today, however, the crowds were outside, not inside. When I arrived, there was already a sizable gathering in the hallway: the Banchura triplets and their echoes forming their own formidable delegation; Elyssa with all three of her echoes, though one of them appeared wan and weak; Vivienne, looking as stunned a
nd sad as ever, though I had to think she was wondering if Marguerite’s death might reverse her own fortunes. Also present were Darrily and Dezmen and Nigel and Deryk and a few other nobles Marguerite had barely talked to. None of them noticed me lurking nearby, keeping to the shadows as much as I could—or if they did, they didn’t recognize me. Why would they? Anytime they had seen me in the past two weeks, I had been one of Marguerite’s echoes. They had never encountered me as Marguerite’s maid. And even if they had, they would not have bothered to note what I looked like.
They were all talking and arguing as they waited, though I got the sense none of them condemned Marguerite. The triplets certainly didn’t. Leonora, always the most outspoken of the three, was expressing her opinion most vehemently—ostensibly addressing Dezmen, but obviously expecting the whole world to hear.
“If they condemn her, I’m leaving Camarria,” she said. “They’ll have to arrest me and set a guard outside my door if they want me to stay.”
“If they condemn her, I think both princes will have a hard time finding brides among the noblewomen with echoes,” said Darrily. She had always been one of those who vied for Cormac’s attention, but she spoke with a simple weariness that made it obvious she was done with that game.
“I’d still marry either one of them,” Elyssa said. “But they’d suffer for it.”
“The last thing they’ll be thinking about will be finding brides!” Leonora exclaimed. “They’ll be spending all their energy trying to prevent secession and war!”
“You might want to lower your voices,” Dezmen said. “I believe Harold, Cormac and Jordan are already in the throne room. They might hear you.”
“I want them to hear me,” Leonora said. “I them to know how violently I disagree with this—this tribunal.”
“Hush,” somebody said, and they all fell silent to listen. We could hear the sound of many footsteps coming down the hallway—eight or ten people, I thought, moving in one big cluster. In a few moments, a tight phalanx swept into view. Three guards led the way and three trailed behind, with Marguerite, Patience, and Purpose at their center. I felt my hands clench as I saw her walk by. She looked pale as death, weary and tense, but oddly calm. She kept her eyes trained on the floor and didn’t look at any of us as she passed. I saw Leonora reach out as if to touch her arm, but one of the guards shoved his body between them. Leonora smacked at his shoulder with her open hand, but Letitia pulled her back before she could actually hit him.