by Adalyn Grace
“You saw it, too?” I ask Ferrick, whose neck retracts in surprise. He starts to answer when Bastian’s voice turns to gravel.
“You think I’m lying?”
He has no reason to, but I don’t want to believe it. I hadn’t felt threatened last night. I felt like I’d been putting on the show Mother told me our people wanted, minus the occasional slipup, like with Lord Gregori.
Most of my people had seemed receptive to me. Had one of those faces truly been lying?
“No,” I offer quietly. “But could you have mistaken it for something else? I had a lot of stew in those puff pastries.”
His scrunches his nose and leans back in his seat. “It wasn’t stew. Curmana specializes in herbs, remember? Most of the ones you’ll find around here are for healing. In small doses, they’re relatively harmless, like the zolo leaf on Curmana’s emblem. But … not all herbs are safe, and let’s just say I used to know my way around Curmana’s marketplace. If you know where to look, poison isn’t hard to find.” His eyes flicker up to Shanty, whose lips clamp even tighter.
“He’s right,” she admits. “I’ve bought my fair share of it, using many different faces. There are many different forms of poison, but this one was lethal. You’re lucky Ferrick was here, and that whatever it was you consumed, it must have been only a small portion.”
The cold sweat is back, licking its way up my spine as realization sets in—I could have died last night. If Ferrick hadn’t been here, I would have died.
Vataea draws the blanket over my shoulder, and there’s a fierce protectiveness in her eyes that, if I didn’t know was for me, would be terrifying. “I will kill whoever did this.” Her words are flat and casual, like she’s telling us she’ll have toast for breakfast. Ferrick sets a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“If you don’t, then I will.” Bastian’s fists clench. “But first, we’ll need to find them.”
Ferrick nods and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Oh, we’ll find them,” he says without an ounce of hesitation. He dips his chin, making each of his words firmer. “We will find him, Amora. This isn’t something you get to do on your own. If we’re going to find whoever did this quickly, you have to let us help you.”
Much to my surprise and his, I can’t find the words to protest. For so long I’ve felt alone, even with my crew beside me. But now, seeing the anger in their eyes—feeling their fear—I want their support. I want to find the person behind this, and this isn’t an obstacle I want to face on my own.
Father died because of the throne, and the decisions he made while upon it. I knew the moment I set the crown upon my head that death would try for me, next. There’s a certain strength you get by being in power, but there’s also a unique danger. And without my magic—without any magic—it’s not a danger I want to brave alone.
I want to let the others in, more than anything. I don’t want to find everything on my own. It’s just … hard. But maybe in small doses. Maybe this can be the first step.
The tension in Ferrick’s body eases as he lets out a breath heavy with relief. If I weren’t so sick to my stomach, I might have even laughed at how over the top it was.
“Good.” He drops his voice low enough that the rest of us have to lean in, careful for any eavesdropping attendants who might be passing by. “We’ll meet up in the afternoon for a trip to the marketplace, to figure out where the poison was bought and who it was sold to.” Then he turns to Shanty, whose body straightens with understanding as he says, “We’re going to need your help.”
“Just say the word.” Shanty’s smile is as lethal as a serrated blade, though it flashes for only a moment before she’s looking at me, again. “But before that, there’s something you might want to see, Amora.”
Ferrick’s head swivels toward her, face pinched and stern. “I thought we were going to wait on that.”
“She needs to know—”
As each of their faces sour, I sigh. “Whatever it is, show me. It’s not like this day’s going to get any worse.”
As she plucks a piece of parchment from her pockets and goes to unfold it, however, I know instantly upon looking at the moving parchment how wrong I am.
HER MAJESTY, QUEEN AMORA: AN ACCOMPLISHED NEW RULER, OR A CHILD IN A CROWN?
Last night, Queen Amora’s royal officials were seen escorting Her Majesty from her own party several hours before it was set to end. With reports from Curmanan staff claiming that Queen Amora was throwing up well into the morning, we have to wonder: Could the queen be pregnant?
With the Montara lineage dwindling, it’s no secret the queen will need to quickly produce an heir to the throne. Sources claim the child could belong to a dark-haired male seen entering Her Majesty’s room, alone, prior to the party.
But perhaps there’s another answer. According to Lord Gregori, grandchild to the Suntosan representative, Lord Garrison, Her Majesty was heavily intoxicated throughout the night’s festivities.
“I tried to get her to slow down,” he told us in an exclusive interview. “We spent most of the night together, strategizing about Visidia and discussing the expansion of weaponry. At first Amora seemed fine. She was smiling and laughing, and we were having a wonderful time. But perhaps the night was too much for her, because as the party went on, I started to notice she was drinking more heavily. By the time I thought to stop her, she was already nearly six glasses of wine in, and was growing increasingly irate with me. When I noticed something was wrong, I quickly found her staff and sent them to collect her. I’m not sure how she’s doing, but I’m going to be sure to check in on her today. We have a date set this afternoon.”
If Lord Gregori’s right, then we have to wonder—in the hands of a freshly minted eighteen-year-old queen, just how safe is Visidia? Is it too much—
I crumple the parchment in my hands without finishing it, hating the moving image of me shoving my empty wine flute into Lord Gregori’s chest.
“Your mother’s not happy,” Casem says timidly. “She’s been yelling at me all morning.” His eyes are milky white, hazy with the look of someone using mind magic. As the color returns to them, he sighs and tiredly rubs his temples.
“Tell her it was food poisoning.” My voice shakes with an anger I don’t try to rein in, letting it fuel me. “If she learns it was anything else, or if she thinks I’m out here making a fool of myself, she’ll try to bring me back to Arida.”
“Would that be a bad thing?” It’s Ferrick who asks, a hand on his scabbard. “You’ve had two assassination attempts already. Maybe we should return home and try to plan something else.”
“I will not cower before my kingdom.” Ferrick, more than anyone, should understand why this is so important. When he opens his mouth to protest, I fix both him and Bastian—who looks ready to take Ferrick’s side at any given moment—with a sharp look. “I am Visidia’s queen. I’m here for a purpose, and I’m not leaving until I’ve accomplished everything I set out to do.” My body is weak as I try to stand. “We’ll carry out our morning as planned and then meet in the afternoon to find whoever did this. And Casem, do me a favor in the meantime. Find the reporter who wrote this parchment, would you? I’d like to have a word with him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
No matter how bone-tired and weary I feel, I must present myself with smiles and continue with the unsuspecting charade that everything is fine.
After kicking out everyone but Vataea—who lounges in a chaise in my room, glaring at the door as though it’s about to come to life and attack at any given moment—I journey to the attached bathing room to try to breathe some life back into my skin.
I lather the tub with powders and tonics all meant to energize me, scrubbing my skin with scented creams and my hair with shimmery oils. Stepping out, I slick my curls back and coil them into a bun, using rose water and rouge to liven my cheeks. By the time I’m done, I look far less tired than I feel, and am passable to journey out into Curmana. Primarily, for my date with Lord Freebourne.
Thoug
h I thought to cancel it, Ferrick insisted we didn’t want to draw suspicion. However, I’m not to consume anything, be it water or food, unless it comes from my crew directly.
“You look nice.” Vataea stands to stretch out her long limbs as I emerge from the bathing room, fully dressed and my face made up. “You look as though you might actually be trying to impress this man.”
The questioning lilt of her voice itches at my skin. Was I trying to impress Elias? He’s handsome and sharp, I’ll give him that. But my thoughts don’t linger on him. He was a fun distraction for the night, but little more than that.
“It’s all of Curmana I’m trying to impress,” I tell her instead, though the words make my tongue bitter. How hard should I be trying when someone here attempted to poison me? I hate that I can’t be bold in my actions and alert the kingdom so that we might find who did it. I hate that I have to pretend.
Vataea hooks a satchel to her hips, skimming her fingers over her poniard to ensure it’s in place. Back on Arida, Casem and I had helped her design the long, serrated blade. It’s thin and light enough that it wouldn’t weigh her down if she were to take it in the ocean. But there’s danger in the deadly jagged edges. Though Vataea’s true weapon will always be her voice and the water surrounding her, she needed something for protection here on land. To my surprise, she’s grown rather attached to it.
“Well then, let’s go impress them.” Shoving her feet into a pair of black boots, she tosses me a coat and we head out. Shanty waits cross-legged on the floor outside, picking at her nails. She looks relieved to stand, and I’m relieved to have her. Both of these girls are by far the fiercest and most capable of my crew in a fight; should anyone try something, I’ll be glad to have them on my side.
But unfortunately, Shanty’s not alone. Bastian’s beside her, broad arms folded across his chest.
“We need to talk,” he says, brow arching when Shanty slyly scoots an inch closer to eavesdrop. “Alone.”
“There’s somewhere I need to be,” I start, but he ignores me, quick to take me by the wrist and walk me right back into the room, shutting the door behind us. Outside it, Vataea growls a few choice words.
“Freebourne can wait.” He drops my wrist, eyes starless and steely. “I know I said I didn’t care if you kept your secrets, but I lied. We’re playing with fire, and it’s time to tell me the truth. Why are we really here?”
My chest numbs. It’s everything I can do to keep my attention level with his and not give myself away. “Visidia needs an heir—”
“Don’t give me that.” There’s venom in his growl, raw and fresh. “We both know this is nothing more than a charade, Amora. And let’s not forget I can feel your soul. You were searching for someone last night, but it wasn’t a suitor. Every time someone introduced themselves to you, you were disappointed. You were looking for someone, and I want to know who. No more games.”
My tongue grows heavy, useless as the weight of the truth settles between us.
“Why have you been lying to me?” he presses, and to that at least, I have an answer.
“Because I needed my space from you, Bastian.” My words come in a rush of breath that nearly knocks me back. “I needed to feel like I’m my own person, again. Like you’re not right there with me for every decision I make!”
“And you think I don’t want that, too? For both of us?” He clenches his fists at his sides, trying to ease their angry shaking. “You’re acting as though I’ve somehow wronged you, like this was my choice. I didn’t put this curse on us, Amora; I don’t want this any more than you do. But gods forbid you be honest with me, so that we can work together instead of you trying to do everything on your own. Gods forbid I don’t have to be miserable every day, thinking that the woman I love isn’t off pretending that she’s searching for a husband! That I don’t have to watch her parading around while the kingdom tries to murder her, and she won’t even let me try to protect her.”
The moment the words pass Bastian’s lips he freezes, eyes going round as an owl’s as he realizes what he’s said. Even the room seems to sucks in a breath, still and waiting for someone to crack the silence.
My skin goes clammy, and I’ve no idea whether it’s right to keep looking him in the eye, or turn away. But before I can decide, Bastian turns and groans into his palms, smoothing his hands over his hair in frustration.
“You know what, I’m not doing this right now. I hope you have a wonderful time with that pretty poster boy. He seems like a real charmer.”
I think to stop him. The words might have even left my mouth, I’m not sure. But Bastian throws open the door regardless, storming down the hall and leaving two confused girls blinking back at me from behind the door.
“So,” Shanty muses as she turns back at Bastian’s retreating figure, then to me with a purse of her lips. “I take it that means you’re ready for your date?”
Seething, I grab my cloak from the bed and jerk it over me, wishing I had Valukan magic so that I could light something on fire. “Let’s get this over with.”
* * *
Elias waits upon the powder-white sand, his lips pressed together as he paces small circles. He straightens when he catches sight of us, appearing almost surprised. “Amora! I read the papers this morning; how are you feeling? I tried to stop by your room to check on you myself, but that guard of yours gave me a rough time. I don’t think he’s keen on me.” He looks surprisingly boyish, and my skin cools at the sight of him, remembering what Bastian had called him—pretty poster boy.
He wasn’t exactly wrong. Yet while part of me wants to gloat in what is clearly his jealousy, the other part wants to track Bastian down and …
I’m not sure what. Set his coat on fire? Push him into the sea? Kiss that annoying face of his?
Gods, I hate the uncertainty.
Peering over my shoulder, Elias nods his head in greeting toward the two girls, though his attention lingers on Vataea a beat too long. Even if her clothing makes it impossible to see scars on her neck and thighs from her gills and fin, it’s clear there’s something different about her.
“Your chambermaids?” he asks.
Vataea’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits. “If chambermaids are the ones who will tear your heart out with their teeth or put a dagger through your eye if you so much as look at the queen wrong, then yes. We’re her chambermaids.”
The knot in Elias’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Not chambermaids, then. Duly noted.”
I think to tell him not to worry, or that Vataea and Shanty are more bark than they are bite, but it’d be a lie too easily found out. So instead I loop my hand through his offered arm, though my heart is far from in it.
“I must admit that I was disappointed when I didn’t see you again last night,” he says as we start down the beach. “You snuck away so quickly. But it’ll be nice to have a day just for the two of us to tour the island.”
There’s a genuine excitement in his voice that I wish I could match. Last night, drunk off wine and apparently poison, touring the island with Elias had seemed like a wonderful idea. Now though, I’m too distracted with thoughts of Bastian.
That bastard said he loved me. But there’s no way that’s right. His emotions must be as muddled as mine, so how dare he say something like that? And then to just leave!
It takes all my power to tear my thoughts away from Bastian; to compartmentalize him away someplace else, so that I might focus on my time with Elias, who knows Curmana better than most, given his position. I came here to find Ornell Rosenblathe, and today I need to make some progress.
“Have you lived here all your life?” Vataea and Shanty are keeping an appropriate distance away, but I quiet my words regardless, letting this time between us feel more intimate. The more relaxed he is, the more information I can pry.
“All twenty-two years.” His smile is far too charming. “I’ve traveled to most of the other islands, but Curmana is my home. Should anything happen to my sister, I’m on the l
ineup of potential advisers to take her place. So I try to stay on Curmana for the most part, to keep abreast with what’s happening on the island.”
Curiosity prickles my skin, but I don’t let myself show it. Instead, I keep politely interested. “Anything interesting happen, lately?”
Something related to poison, perhaps?
It’s possible he doesn’t know about the seedy underbelly of his island, just as I was unaware of how bad things in the kingdom were getting while I was stuck on Arida. I watch his face for a sign, any break or hesitation that might show he’s aware of something stirring in Curmana that has yet to be reported to royal officials. But his expression remains confident and unwavering, betraying nothing.
“Nothing too exciting, no. We have milder weather this far north, so we don’t get the same storms that plague the southern islands. Revenue has continued to increase throughout the years as we expand our spas and inflate the prices of our more luxurious services. We’re incredibly stable and self-sufficient, as we also produce the majority of the herbs and oils we sell right here on the island.”
“What about the crime?”
And there it is. Brief and so fleeting I nearly miss it—a quick tic of his jaw.
“Pardon, Your Majesty?”
“The crime rate,” I repeat. “What’s it like?”
“I dare say Curmana is the safest places you’ll ever visit. I recently visited Ikae, and it’s astounding how much petty theft tourists get away with there. The tranquility here makes residents and tourists alike happy; because of it, our crime rates are low.”
Curmanan residents eye Elias and me as we walk along the sleek white shore, the sand so powdery that I wonder if this is what the snow upon Zudoh might feel like. Most bow their heads, but there are a handful of children who gawk up at me, much to the horror of parents who hurriedly try to get them to dip their heads.
Shanty’s watching them too, eyes narrowed as she scouts their faces, looking for others with enchantment magic who are only here to look for a story for tonight’s gossip parchments. Briefly, I wonder what today’s might say.
