Silent Queen

by Carrie Summers

  A muffled chuckle rose from the rear of the crowd. At least one person found it laughable that someone would envy Ashiril. Eyes blazing, Roakiev whirled on the gathering. As he spun, he dragged me with him. Vision blurred by unshed tears, I searched for Vaneesi. The press of the crowd hid her from me.

  Or maybe Vaneesi didn’t do it. I thought to Roakiev. I remember the conversation Ashiril had with your mother about the inheritance. As long as your sister lived, your title wasn’t safe.

  But if Roakiev had murdered his sister, what did Vaneesi know about it? Why had she whispered that I should trust her? Once again, I cursed my blindness to the relationship between the families. Not that it mattered much at this point.

  “Envy is not sufficient grounds to accuse her,” Trader Yiltak said. “As long as she can explain her whereabouts, we have no reason to suspect her.”

  And as soon as I speak, everyone who knew me to be mute will decide I’m a liar. I might as well admit to murdering Ashiril.

  Roakiev shook me, setting my teeth rattling. “Surely you know her affliction, Trader. She has no voice.”

  Trader Yiltak sighed. “Right. I’d forgotten. Well, others will have seen her.” He cast his gaze over the crowd as if searching for someone to corroborate.

  Hope flared in my chest when I spied Vaneesi shoving forward. The Yiltak heir shouldered into men twice her weight, undaunted by the glares she earned.

  “I have information, father,” she said. Though her voice was quiet, scarcely audible over the low rumble from the mountain and the distant hiss of lava entering the sea, Vaneesi commanded instant attention.

  As she approached, she tossed me a barely perceptible nod. My thumping heart slowed. This had been her plan all along. Somehow, she was going to turn this around on Roakiev.

  “Go ahead,” her father said.

  “I’m afraid Roakiev is correct,” she said.

  What? You betraying, filthy wretch! I saved your worthless life!

  Hands clawing, I leaped at her. Roakiev squeezed my neck harder, tearing flesh. As I thrashed, he threw an arm across my chest and pinned my arms to my side. Grunting, he wrapped his other arm around my neck and squeezed my windpipe shut. I stopped struggling if only to keep from passing out.

  Trader Yiltak cleared his throat. “I see. And her actions appear to confirm that accusation. But when it comes to murder, I’m afraid I still need evidence to convict.”

  Vaneesi nodded. She wouldn’t look at me now.

  I hope the rot takes you, I thought as I glowered at her.

  “She came to me. At the time, I couldn’t interpret her… pantomiming. But now I understand. She was asking for help in eliminating her mistress.”

  You disgust me. I never thought I’d meet someone worse than the Ulstats.

  Wriggling against Roakiev’s grip, I shoved an elbow into his gut. If I could just get away… hide somewhere in the dark of the island. His arm tightened again, cutting off my breath. I saw spots.

  Moments later, a sailor’s rough hands fell on my arms. Tar and salt grimed his thick fingernails. Clamping down hard enough to bruise, my captor dragged me to the very base of the platform.

  “You’re sure of this, Heir Yiltak?” Trader Yiltak asked, using his daughter’s formal title. “As you just mentioned, it can be difficult to understand someone’s intent when they can’t speak.”

  Why hadn’t she just given that away, too?

  Maybe that’s what you’re trying to do now, I thought. A final proof of my deceitful nature. A way to remove any last doubts.

  Vaneesi closed the remaining distance with the platform and stood beside me. “I suppose I can’t be certain she wanted my help. Eventually, I gave up trying to understand her and asked her to leave. In any case, I saw her enter Ashiril’s tent about an hour before the eruption. And as I ran for the forges, I spotted her slipping away into the dark.”

  I slumped, my knees giving way. Only the sailor’s grip kept me upright. There was nothing left to do. A glance at the crowd told me that every one of them believed Vaneesi. And why not? She was a trader, heir to an enormous fortune. Whereas I was a simple, mute servant.

  My heart pleaded with me to defend myself. If not for me, for Eron. But it would do no good. No one would believe me now. Vaneesi was standing so close I could smell the scented oil she dabbed below her ears. Raised by the light breeze blowing from the sea, goosebumps roughed the delicate skin of her neck.

  Pursing my lips, I spat on her face.

  6.

  THE SHIP HAD no brig. Instead, the captain threw me in a dank storage cabin in the lowest level of the hold and barred the door from the outside. The only light that entered my cell was when someone brought a lantern into the hold. Then, a thin bar of yellow glow showed beneath the door. I hungered for that light. When it came, I fell to the floor and pressed my face close.

  Once a day, a deckhand arrived with a chunk of bread and a pail of water. Every other feeding, they traded out the bucket I used as a chamber pot. Aside from that, I saw no one for days. I knew when we’d cast off from the island by the rocking of the hull.

  During the first week at sea, sores opened on my hips and shoulders from curling on my side on the mildewed wood. I tried to sleep sitting up; I was wedged into the corner of the cabin when the door flew open. After seeing nothing but the faint glow from beneath the door, plus the wedge of light when my food arrived, the glare of Roakiev Ulstat’s blazing lantern stabbed my eyes.

  “Leesa,” he said. “You poor, wretched thing.”

  Roakiev. You vile, insane monster.

  I’d accidentally spilled my water pail last meal, leaving my mouth dry and tacky. Otherwise, I would have spat on his face, too.

  “I plan to ask permission to preside over your trial,” he said, stepping into my cell and hanging the lantern from a wall hook. His eyes gleamed at the sight of me cowering before him, the beaten prisoner. I clenched a fist, imagined my punch knocking out teeth. But I had no strength left.

  Roakiev Ulstat crouched before me, wrinkling his nose at the stench of my bucket, the smell of hours of fear sweats.

  “You know, if it hadn’t been for Ashiril requesting you as a servant, I might have taken you as my own. She was such a silly girl, but she understood your value. Such loyalty there is in silence, yes?”

  Give me your dagger, and I’ll show you loyalty.

  Despite my filth, he reached out and cupped my cheek. In the glow of the lantern, his face showed hunger. Finally, I found my strength and jerked away.

  Roakiev grinned. “So you are more than you appear, after all. Intriguing…”

  I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of taking away my silence. As his eyes traveled the length of my body, I glared back, denying him the pleasure of seeing my fear

  With a snarl, he stood, snatched the lantern, and stalked from my cell. The bar slammed home with a hollow thunk.

  More days passed, and then I awoke to light leaking through a seam high on the outer wall of my cell. Though most of my cabin lay below the water line, the upper planks of the wall were above the waves. I crawled to the wall. With fingers scrabbling at the wood for support, I clawed myself upright and tried to smell the warmth of the sun.

  Daylight: we’d finally crossed out of the months-long night that shrouded Ioene. Within two weeks, we’d make landfall at the first of the Kiriilt Islands. After visiting a handful of ports to allow tradespeople to disembark, we’d dock at Araok island. My ordeal in the ship’s hold was nearly over.

  Soon enough, I’d know my punishment. Sometimes, I’d let myself imagine they’d throw me into the mine with Eron. But deep down, I knew that was an impossible hope. They’d kill me. All that remained to discover was how.

  I sank to the floor and must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, my cell door once again flew open.

  Vaneesi Yiltak faced me from the opening. For a moment, pity flashed across her face before she hardened herself and turned to the oarsman who’d escorted her below
.

  “Leave us,” she said.

  Though he hesitated, Vaneesi’s raised chin allowed no argument. Moments later, he’d retreated from sight and—I assumed—from earshot.

  Nonetheless, Vaneesi pulled the door shut behind her when she entered, securing it with a small hook through an eyebolt. As Roakiev had, she hung her lantern on the hook and peered down at me.

  “Not going to spit in my face this time?” she asked.

  Just come closer… I narrowed my eyes at her, wishing I weren’t so utterly exhausted.

  “Oh, forget the act,” she continued. “I know you can talk.”

  Should I give her the gift of my voice? I’d done that once, and it had gained me nothing but pain.

  “Listen,” she said, “it was the only way. If I didn’t support Roakiev, he would have killed me—and you—anyway.”

  I stared at her before deciding I had no reason to keep quiet when I could strip away her lies. “I might believe someone else. But all you had to do was tell your father. Instead, you killed Ashiril and blamed me for it.”

  Vaneesi sank to the floor, heedless of the layer of filth and the stains where my chamber pot had spilled a few days before. She shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t have been able to convince my father. Not on the word of a servant.”

  “You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel less guilty. But don’t try to convince me.”

  “And I didn’t kill her.”

  Lies.

  Why bother to argue with her? I looked away. Eventually, she’d get tired of waiting for a response and would leave.

  “Listen, Leesa. There are… issues between my family and the Ulstats.”

  I’d noticed. But they don’t seem to extend to you and Roakiev.

  She ran her hand through her hair. “But there are far worse problems with the other trader Houses. The Yiltaks and the Ulstats have argued for as long as we remember. But we’re also the two most powerful Houses in the Islands. And the other Houses want to knock us down. They’ve formed a council and a joint force of soldiers. Any effort my family spends fighting the Ulstats gives the council a chance to strike.”

  I continued to stare at the wall. So your father would rather you die than anger House Ulstat? Doesn’t that make you sad? My father might be dead, but at least he loved me.

  “And I guess I didn’t quite believe your story. I thought that you must’ve been mistaken… If I was going to bring this to my father and deal with all the consequences, I wanted to be sure.”

  Why bother when you could just kill Ashiril. Or did you get Roakiev to do it?

  “I went to Ashiril’s tent to see for myself. Maybe it was stupid.”

  “Not a stupid as falling in love with Roakiev Ulstat,” I snapped, unable to help myself.

  She smirked. “You think I actually cared for him?”

  “If I’ve learned anything as a mute, it’s how to watch people.”

  “And if I’ve learned anything as a trader, it’s how to deceive.”

  At once, she stared at me with the same, moon-faced devotion she’d turned upon Roakiev. After a breath, her face crumpled as a tear welled and spilled down her cheek. Finally, she raised a brow and smirked.

  Do you have any real emotions? I thought.

  “The only way to prevent the council from toppling my family is to add the Ulstats’ strength to ours. I know about the madness that runs in their blood. And I know that dosing with coppernettle tea will accelerate it. After we are wed and I produce an heir, I won’t have to endure Roakiev for long. Once the mind goes, the body soon follows. Many in their family have died before thirty.”

  My lip twisted in disgust. “Your father’s plan or yours?”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. My father has asked many things of me that I didn’t want to do. It’s part of being heir to a trader House.”

  “So why are you here? Am I supposed to pity you? Forgive you?”

  “I came because I want to help you,” she said.

  “You could’ve started by not killing Ashiril…”

  “It was Roakiev,” she said. “I saw it. But I think… I think it may have been the only good thing he’s done in his life. When I came into the tent, she had the figurine and they were fighting. The room was hot, and her skin was… almost fiery.”

  Vaneesi shuddered. Despite myself, I nodded.

  “She threw her brother across the room,” she said. “Ashiril, who wouldn’t lift her own fork if she could help it. While her attention was on him, I jumped on her from behind. It was just enough of a distraction that Roakiev was able to move in. He slit her throat without a hint of remorse.”

  “And then you two made the plan to blame me.”

  She shrugged. It was all the answer I needed.

  “Who has the figurine now?” I asked.

  “I do. And no Ulstat will ever touch it again.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “You speak as if you’re so much more honorable than they are.”

  At this, Vaneesi’s lips thinned. “I said I wanted to help you. Roakiev plans to make your trial last a very long time. He wants to keep you on the House Ulstat grounds because he enjoys seeing you so helpless. I encouraged him.”

  “How kind of you.”

  “But listen, I have contacts. The longer the trial, the better the chance I can put plans in motion. With luck, I can help you escape.”

  I couldn’t help the spark of hope that flared. “There’s another… He’s imprisoned on Araok Island.”

  Vaneesi’s face hardened, her trader mask falling into place. “I believe you mistake my sense of responsibility for something else. It’s due to me that you are accused, and therefore I would see you freed. But I will not further risk myself for someone to whom I owe no debt.”

  “Then leave. And I hope the rot takes you.”

  With a shrug, she stood and dusted the filth off her finely-sewn trader garments. The door shut behind her, thudding softly on the damp wood of the walls before the bar dropped home. As soon as the shadows of her feet moved off, I scrambled for the center of my cell.

  When she’d dusted herself off, a few auburn hairs had fallen from her jacket. I plucked them from the floor and folded them into a crumpled handkerchief from my pocket. By the time the light beneath the door was snuffed, I had the first inklings of a plan.

  Roakiev wanted to keep me close to watch me suffer. Good.

  7.

  THE SHIP NUDGED the dock at Araok Island with a jolt. From outside, the smell of burning coal filtered into the ship, the stench of ore refineries and the fish market and dark stone baking beneath the midday sun.

  I could no longer stand. I could scarcely crawl. But I managed to splash water over my face. Regardless of the accusations, I would keep my head high when they dragged me through the streets. As it was, no one fetched me for hours. When the door finally opened, revealing a hold emptied of cargo, Roakiev smiled down at me, his teeth white in the darkness.

  Roakiev had brought only one guardsman to lead me from the ship. Unable to walk, I was forced to lean against my captors for support. I recoiled from Roakiev’s touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. Once away from the waterfront, the guard just threw me over his shoulder and carried me through the city.

  They deposited me into a dank cellar inside a storage shed on the House Ulstat grounds. Hours later, a guard unbolted the hatch and held up a lantern while Iriinet climbed into my dark hole carrying a small sack.

  “Oh, Leesa,” she cried when she saw me. She whirled at the guard. “Give me the rotted lantern. Poor girl is half starved.”

  With a shrug, he passed it down. “Your choice if you want to get bitten by rats.”

  Iriinet hurried over and crouched beside me. As she smoothed my hair, a tear slipped down her cheek.

  You do care. It was me that shut everyone out.

  From her sack, she pulled a soft roll, already cut with butter melting inside. The airy bread dissolved in my mouth, warm and
yeasty and the best thing I’d tasted in months. A small flask of water sloshed when she held it before me.

  As a cool swallow slipped down my throat, I realized I was crying, too. I glanced at the hatch leading out of the cellar. The guard had moved off.

  “I had a mother,” I whispered. “You would’ve liked her.”

  Iriinet’s eyes widened as she laid a hand on my cheek. “I can’t believe it. You’re healed.”

  I smiled sadly. “I was never sick. I’d just forgotten how to find my voice. But Iriinet, you can’t tell anyone.”

  “Why? I know you didn’t kill Ashiril like they said. Why not defend yourself?”

  “Would anyone believe me?” I asked.

  Iriinet fiddled with the tie for her sack while she considered. “No, I don’t suppose they would.”

  “But I will defend myself. I have a plan. I just need someone to help me.”

  Iriinet’s hands fell on my shoulders. “You’re the closest thing to a daughter that I’ll ever have, Leesa. Of course I’ll help you.”

  “All right, what is it?” Lady Ulstat grimaced and raised the hem of her skirt off the cellar floor as she approached me, Iriinet at her heels.

  “Well?” Iriinet snapped at me. “Show her.”

  Cowering, I pulled the small, leather pouch from my pants pocket. My hand trembled when I held it out to Lady Ulstat. The woman accepted it, pinching a fold of the leather with just two fingers as if to avoid my stench rubbing off on her.

  “A pouch. What does this have to do with my daughter’s death?”

  “May I?” Iriinet asked.

  Lady Ulstat was all too eager to drop it into her outstretched palm. Iriinet on cinched the drawstring and pulled out two small herb pouches. She opened one and sniffed before holding it beneath Lady Ulstat’s nose. The lady glanced, sideways at her, hesitated, then inhaled. Her eyes widened.

  “Coppernettle,” Iriinet confirmed.

  Lady Ulstat turned her glare on me. “Did you hope to accelerate my son’s decline?”