Occasionally, I noticed his gaze lingering on the velvet pouch holding the artifact. To be fair, my eyes fell on it just as often.
The moon had touched the sea by the time the girls finished their task. We hurried back to camp, and I attempted to follow Ashiril into her tent. She dismissed me with a disgusted wave of her hand.
I shared a pavilion-style tent with some of the tradespeople and sailors. But though we were all commoners, of the same class as far as the traders were concerned, I was the only servant among them. The others could at least claim a sense of control over their lives, whereas I lived to satisfy my mistress’s command.
A few of the more highly valued members of the expedition had even begun to consider me a shared resource. If I’d had the ability to speak, they’d never have dared for fear I’d tattle to Ashiril. As it was, leatherworkers asked me to air their bedding while weavers and blacksmiths suggested I clean their tools. I neither refused nor complained.
When I ducked into the tent, however, the only occupants were asleep. A relief, because the situation with the figurine had unsettled me. I wanted time to think.
Unrolling my bedding atop the gravel floor, I crawled into the blankets. The mountain was restless, rumbling and hissing as she spat airy pumice from her cone. Pillowing my head on my elbow, I closed my eyes.
As I lay in the strange darkness, I remembered my first meeting with Eron. In an alley between buildings, the rats scurrying between our feet, we’d kissed without needing an introduction.
The memory soothed my nerves, and eventually I dozed.
After waking, I shuffled to the dining tent for a cold meal of smashed tubers and tasteless flatbreads. Unappetizing, but at least I hadn’t had to cook it. Next, I reported to Ashiril’s shelter, a padded silk tent falling away from two central poles. Because the tent had no proper door for knocking, she’d hung a small bell outside. I donned my mask of tame obedience before ringing it.
“Enter,” Roakiev announced as if the tent belonged to him.
Pushing aside a heavy curtain weighed down by stones sewn into the hem, I slipped inside. A dozen lamps lit the interior, casting a warm glow over the furnishings and the thick rug spread upon the bare-earth floor. Ashiril and Roakiev faced one another across the small table.
Upon seeing me, Roakiev leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles.
Ashiril glared at her brother, a look dangerously close to insolence. “I don’t care,” she said, continuing their conversation. “You have to put it back. As soon as Vaneesi notices it’s gone, she’ll blame us.”
Notice what? The figurine?
Roakiev sneered as he confirmed my suspicion by pulling Vaneesi’s find from his pocket. He rotated the little statue in the light, pretending to examine it. But his eyes were on Ashiril. His sister stared at the artifact, rapt. My blood felt like cold seawater.
“Vaneesi is far too love-struck,” he said. “She’d never suspect me.”
Unfortunately, you’re probably right. I can’t understand whether she’s nearsighted or feebleminded or both.
After a moment, he slipped the figurine back into his pocket. Ashiril swallowed and dragged her gaze back to his face.
“She’s not in love with me, though,” she said.
“But wouldn’t that be… interesting,” Roakiev said with a leering smirk.
“I’m serious, Roakiev.” Finally acknowledging my presence, Ashiril waved dismissively. “I don’t need you now. Unless you’d care to refold the contents of my trunk. Your last attempt was rather disappointing.”
Only because it’s difficult to rifle through the pockets at the same time I’m folding your stuff. I pasted on a contrite expression while I shuffled for her trunk.
“In any case,” Roakiev said, “I spotted the opportunity and seized it. You wanted this. Don’t deny it.”
“But I’m smart enough to know how to bide my time,” Ashiril said, her voice shrill as she sprang from her chair. She trembled as she paced in a quick circle. I shook the wrinkles from a leather cloak, keeping my hands busy. Her reaction reminded me strangely of the tension that had hung over dinner when the Yiltaks had visited.
In Ashiril’s apparent panic, she’d forgotten to whom she spoke. Now would be a good time to clap shut, I thought to her.
I slid behind the trunk to use it as a shield before I glanced up. Roakiev’s face was purple with rage. Ashiril had realized her mistake and was already backing away.
“I didn’t mean…” She trailed off, knowing that her protests would only make things worse.
Incredibly, Roakiev regained control. The shaking in his arm subsided as he dug his hand into his pocket and rubbed the figurine. After a moment, he smiled, baring far too many teeth.
“My sister,” he said at last. “I admire your directness. Yes, I understand why you’d worry she’ll accuse you. But remember, she asked us to keep this secret. To claim you stole her artifact, she must admit to finding the structure. And she won’t do that until she’s thoroughly explored the area.”
I’m not so sure, I thought. She doesn’t have a good reason to keep it from her father.
Back straight, Ashiril approached the table. She grabbed the back of her chair but didn’t relax enough to sit. “Why not wait until the voyage home to steal it?”
Roakiev’s eyes narrowed. “Can you really wait that long? To me, the statue is nothing but a valuable object. But I saw the way it affected you.”
We all did… I grimaced at the memory.
Roakiev’s gaze flicked to me. Quickly, I pulled a jacket from the trunk and snapped it to remove the wrinkles. Ashiril jumped at the sudden noise, prompting a grin from her brother.
“Oh, Ashiril. You ought to have more faith in the bonds of blood. I’d forgive you for insults that would send others to the gallows. A stray comment doubting my decisions is certainly not worth this tension, is it?”
As he stepped closer, Ashiril took an unwitting step back. The motion only widened Roakiev’s grin.
“Come,” he said, stretching out a hand. “An embrace for your brother?”
I almost feel sorry for you, I thought to her. Almost.
Instead of accepting his embrace, Ashiril once again took her seat. I folded the jacket and laid it on her bed before pulling out the next item, trousers embroidered with gold thread.
“So, aren’t you going to ask about my plan?” Roakiev said with false cheeriness.
So, what’s your plan?
“I meant to ask sooner,” she said.
“You’re an awful liar, sister. But I forgive you.” He reached across the table and dragged his fingernail down her cheek. “In time, Vaneesi will raise a complaint. That’s true. Our job is to provide a target for her ire.”
At this, he stared pointedly at me. My heart thumped as my breath stuttered. Why hadn’t I predicted this the moment I saw the figurine in his hand? Numbly, I pulled a set of long gloves from the trunk. The leather was so soft it might have been silk.
“I need her,” Ashiril said with unexpected force.
My eyes widened. Well, at least he’ll kill us both now.
But rather than angering, Roakiev sneered. “She’s just a servant. Why would you even care? Does she even have a name?”
“Her name is Leesa,” Ashiril said. “At least, that’s what they call her in the kitchens.”
Is it possible that you actually care what happens to me? I asked. Did you somehow mistake my obedience for devotion? For a moment, I felt a twinge of guilt.
Roakiev snorted. “Hard to know the truth when the wench can’t even speak.”
“I’m beginning to find the trait quite desirable,” Ashiril said. “Leesa! Come here.”
I had to decide whether to finish folding the gloves and lay them atop the pile or whether to drop them back into the trunk. I chose to drop them rather than hesitate at her command.
“You’d find it difficult to betray me, wouldn’t you,” she asked as I stood before her.
Avoiding their eyes, I nodded.
“You see, Roak?”
He scoffed. “And if I pulled my blade on you now? Would she jump to your defense?”
I raised my gaze and glared at Roakiev. My breath caught when I noticed his hand on the hilt of his dagger. He grinned.
“You see?” Ashiril said. “At first I considered her affliction a disadvantage. But now… How many servants can you honestly trust to keep your secrets? None, I’d imagine. And she’s loyal, too.”
Roakiev raised an eyebrow as if considering. His thumb stroked the pommel of his dagger.
“Finish your work, Leesa,” Ashiril said. “And then leave.”
My heel caught on the rug as I backpedaled toward the trunk. Roakiev laughed as I stumbled.
I might feel a tiny bit of regret when I betray Ashiril. But I’d gladly watch the dogs tear you apart.
I clenched my jaw as I returned to my work. Matching the gloves palm to palm, I creased them in the middle and laid them as neatly as I could atop the pile.
“If you’re that unwilling to sacrifice a mere servant for our family,” Roakiev said, “we need other options.” He pulled the nightforged blade from its black sheath. He rolled the hilt in his grip then grinned and pretended to leap at me, stabbing empty air before him. I flinched.
Ashiril sighed. “Such as?”
“Perhaps Vaneesi needs to understand how much more… deserving we are of the prize.” At this, he ran the tip of his finger along the blade. A drop of blood welled.
Ashiril curled her lip. “If that gets on my rug, you’ll be sleeping with the commoners.”
I should have guessed that she’d allowed him to bed down in her tent rather than in the assigned quarters he shared with the clerks.
“You’d never.”
He’s right. You’d never.
“What if I did? You’ve put us in danger with your theft.”
Raising a brow, Roakiev pulled out the figurine and slid it across the table. Ashiril’s spine stiffened as she laid a hand on it.
She gasped.
My stomach clenched as a sensation of doom filled the tent. Something was very wrong with the bond between Ashiril and the statue.
Do you not feel it? I asked Roakiev.
“What is it, dear sister?” Roakiev asked. “Changing your mind?”
I guess not.
“Vaneesi doesn’t deserve this,” Ashiril whispered. “I’ve known since we arrived that her nightcalling talent is weaker than mine. I doubt she even knows…”
“Knows what?”
Ashiril gave her brother a look just short of condescending. “You wouldn’t understand.”
When one of Roakiev’s lower eyelids began to tremble, I wished I’d never entered the tent. I glanced at the tent wall behind me. If I needed to save myself, I could probably tear through the silk. But once again, he managed to leash his temper.
“I’m thinking,” Roakiev said with an oily smirk, “maybe I will return it. Just for now. We can take it from her on the voyage home.”
“No!” Ashiril said. She snatched the figurine from the table, cradling it against her breastbone. Ready to escape before this escalated, I crept forward and lowered the lid onto the velvet-cushioned rim of her trunk. I flinched at the muffled thump. Ashiril turned, lips parted, eyes wide.
“Leesa,” she said, dazed. “I thought you left.”
Ashiril returned her attention to her brother. “If Vaneesi feels just a glimmer of what the statue can offer, she’d drain the seas to recover it.”
“And what does it offer?” Roakiev asked.
“Fire…”
“Fire?”
“Burning within. Power, Roakiev.”
“Then we’re fortunate her nightcalling talent is weak. I’ll return the figurine and remain close with her. It will be easy to follow your suggestion and relieve her of it once we’re closer to home.”
Ashiril shook her head. “She can’t be allowed near it. Never again. We must eliminate the possibility.”
Roakiev drew back with mock surprise, “Eliminate? Frankly, Ashiril, I’m shocked. It sounds almost as if you’re suggesting we kill the girl. A Yiltak! Are you trying to start a war?”
I see now, I thought, disappointed I hadn’t realized it before. You’ve been steering the conversation in this direction since I arrived. You knew her fascination with the statue would make her easy to manipulate.
“She can’t have it,” Ashiril said.
“Then we have no choice, correct? Or shall I return it and hope she simply hides it away? ”
When Roakiev reached for the figurine, Ashiril jerked it away, greedy.
His eyes narrowed. “Ashiril, dear. I need to hear you say it. Do we kill Vaneesi Yiltak?”
Knuckles white as she squeezed the figurine, Ashiril narrowed her eyes. “Do it,” she hissed.
As he whirled on his heels, Roakiev cast me a smile that was almost a snarl. He stalked to the curtain, shoved it aside, and strode into the night.
In his absence, Ashiril swayed on her seat, eyes locked to the figurine. The shadow of creeping menace seemed to darken the edges of my vision. I considered taking the statue from her. But what good would that do? Even if I fled up the volcano’s dark slopes, the Ulstats would just hunt me down.
The scent of lamp oil was suddenly too much. I needed fresh air. I slipped along the edge of the room and escaped out the flap.
She didn’t notice me leave.
3.
IN THE BOTTOMLESS night outside Ashiril’s shelter, I imagined I could contact Eron. His world was darkness right now, too. Did the guards leave him a torch? A blanket? What did they feed him?
Since the Ulstats had locked him away, I’d worried I would never find out the answers. But by attaching myself to Ashiril, I’d earned the right to hope. The closer I got to the family, the greater the chance I’d find a way to free him.
But the figurine changed everything. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but if Ashiril kept it, I was certain much worse things would happen than a setback to my plan. When she held the figurine, I felt as if evil pressed close, just waiting for the chance to strike.
She couldn’t be allowed to keep it. But I had a way to take it from her.
I clenched my fists as I stood outside Vaneesi’s tent. If Roakiev were already inside, he’d know immediately why I’d come. But if I did nothing, Vaneesi would die, and my hopes would be lost.
With a last quick inhalation to boost my confidence, I clapped the small mallet against the brass bowl she left outside. The low chime hummed beneath my breastbone. Shuffling sounds came from within the tent. I hoped they were produced by Vaneesi tidying the chamber, not by Roakiev hiding a body.
My breath gusted out when she called for me to enter. Heart pattering, I pushed aside the tent flap and stepped in.
The dazzle inside the tent startled me. Vaneesi burned more lamps than even Ashiril, and their oil suffused the air with heavy perfume. Other than that, the heir to House Yiltak had chosen mostly practical belongings to carry with her. Only the ornate carvings and inset gems on her sea trunk hinted at the size of her family’s fortune.
She was reclining on her bunk. Holding a small, leather-bound book, she looked extremely displeased to see me. I wondered if she’d expected Roakiev.
“Whatever your mistress wants, I’m sure it can wait until our next nightcalling shift,” she said.
I seriously doubt that. Once you choose to kill someone, better to get it over with.
I shook my head, chewing my lip as I tried to figure out the right gestures to communicate.
“Yes, it can. Please tell…” She trailed off, realizing I couldn’t tell Ashiril anything.
Here’s the thing. The Ulstats took your figurine, and Roakiev is probably off sharpening his dagger. You need to go tell your father everything. Right now.
I shrugged and shook my head again. Holding out my hand as if cradling the figurine, I tried to mime the expression I’d seen on Ashiril’s face.
Vaneesi set her book aside. “I’m not sure what you’re saying. But Ashiril will take it out on you if I refuse to come, won’t she? Hmm.”
I’m saying you’ll be dead before moonrise!
I tapped my finger against my thigh, trying to figure this out. Roakiev could arrive at any moment. If he caught me here, I was just as dead as Vaneesi. And Eron would languish in his dark prison until he died, too.
I scanned the room, searching for a prop. My eyes fell on a small, silver-clad letter opener. I plucked it off the table.
Vaneesi’s brow knit. I approached her bedside, carrying the letter opener with the blade facing away—best not to let her think I was threatening her. I grabbed her hand and slapped the opener into her palm and curled her fingers around it.
“What are you doing?” she asked, face twisting in offense.
Palms raised, I backed away. I pointed at the small blade. At the door. At her.
They. Are. Coming. To. Kill. You.
“I don’t understand you,” Vaneesi said. “Please leave.”
Lips pressed together over the words I could not form, I shook my head. Vaneesi stood from her bunk, dropping the letter opener on her pillow. Her eyes narrowed.
“Ashiril and Roakiev will hear of this. My sentinel will be displeased with your rude behavior.”
I blinked as tears of frustration welled. How could I make her see? Once again, I reached for the letter opener. Vaneesi snatched my wrist before I got there. Quick as a viper, she slapped her other hand over the first and executed a series of moves that left me bent double, my wrist folded so that the slightest pressure sent lancing pain up my arm.
“Now, as I was saying…”
Please.
When Vaneesi again pressed my palm toward my forearm, filling my throat with a silent shriek, a moment from my vanished past flashed to life. At once, I remembered the Ulstat soldier holding my mother in a similar lock. Her shoulder twisting farther and farther to defend against the pain, and finally a snap.
Silent Queen Page 4
