Stranger to the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  They’d only gone a few steps when a terrible scream rang out through the halls, and there was the sound of fighting, fists meeting flesh, a couple of grunts. Elspeth spun around. Through the open doors, she saw scuffling, and then another scream filled her ears, one that cut off abruptly.

  She ran for the room and stopped in the doorway, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. Crumpled bodies in North blue lay beyond a handful of Tremontanan soldiers, one of them cleaning his blade on the North livery. Smears of blood turned the wooden floor scarlet. None of the soldiers looked at her.

  She turned on Lord Harrington and flung herself at him. “You swore!” she screamed, aiming her fists at his face. She got in one good hit before the soldiers dragged her off him, kicking and shouting and struggling. Then Lord Harrington slapped her, a powerful blow that knocked her head back and set her ears ringing.

  “That’s enough,” Lord Harrington said. “Escort her Majesty, and make sure she doesn’t try to run.”

  Hands gripped her upper arms and dragged her along. It had been so long since anyone had dared touch her, let alone so roughly, that between that and the slap she didn’t resist. Then she came to her senses. She was going to die because she didn’t have the nerve to fight back. She tried to pull away, tried going limp, but they only held her tighter and dragged her as if she weighed nothing.

  The hall they were in was lined with small doors set at regular intervals, all of them painted a bright cherry red that contrasted with the white walls and gave the place the look of a candy manufactory. “Here,” Lord Harrington said, and opened a door that looked just like all the others. “Once I’ve arranged things, I’ll be back for you, your Majesty.”

  Elspeth spat in his face. He jerked, then wiped the spittle away with his sleeve. “Defy me all you want,” he said. “It won’t change anything.”

  The soldiers threw Elspeth into the room and slammed the door on her before she could try to escape. She heard the scrape of the key in the lock, and then heavy feet marching away, and then silence.

  24

  The room had no window, and was perfectly black except for the light shining through the keyhole and limning the door. Elspeth stared at the outline until the light was burned into her eyes, then she fumbled in her pocket for her light Device. Its soft red light revealed a room no more than twelve feet on a side, in size uncomfortably like Faraday’s cell. It was bare of furnishings, but its floor was completely covered by a plush carpet that ran from wall to wall and extended a little way under the door. The light showed there had once been a window, but it had been boarded up, not haphazardly, but smoothly to make an unbroken wall. Empty sconces on two walls showed where lamps had once hung. Elspeth couldn’t begin to guess what the room had once been used for.

  She prowled the circumference, looking for anything that might give her an exit. She could fit her fingers beneath the door, but only as far as her palms. So she could wave at anyone who passed by. How cheering. What she needed was a good set of lock picks—except she didn’t know how to pick a lock. So, a good set of lock picks and a thief willing to save the life of his Queen. Or a pistol, to shoot the lock out. Or…she stopped daydreaming about wild possibilities. She was trapped.

  She sat by the door and ran her fingers through the soft nap of the carpet. She would just have to escape when Lord Harrington came back. Run away—he wouldn’t want to kill her too far from the place he’d arranged for her “assassination” to be uncovered, would he? Elspeth closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door. He might. He could probably get away with just about anything so long as Faraday wasn’t in a position to challenge him. How long would Faraday be safe once she was dead?

  “Your Majesty. Your Majesty!”

  Elspeth jumped. The whisper felt like it had entered directly into her skull. She moved her head and saw her ear was level with the keyhole. “Who’s out there?” Elspeth said.

  “It’s Miss Simkins. Your Majesty, did they hurt you?”

  Elspeth gingerly touched her cheek, which felt puffy and hot. “Not really. Miss Simkins, how did you find me?”

  “You did say to keep close, your Majesty. When I saw Lord Harrington leave the north wing, I followed him. Well behind him, because I didn’t like the look of those soldiers. I saw him drag you out of the Oak Hall and bring you here. Your Majesty, what should I do?”

  “Go get—” Elspeth silently cursed. A squad of guards, hopefully led by Lieutenant Anselm, could force the door open, but she didn’t know how many Tremontanan soldiers Lord Harrington or his stooge Captain Sommers had suborned, and she might only be sending more guards to their deaths. And she needed someone she could trust who could act independently, someone who wouldn’t need this whole mess explained to him.

  She tucked her toan jade inside her shirt, then whipped the signet ring on its cord over her head and crouched low to the ground. Her fingers fit, but would the ring? She poked it into the gap, and it went in a fraction of an inch and stuck. Cursing again, this time aloud, she pressed the ring down into the carpet as hard as she could and felt it move a little farther. Panting, she let go of the ring and examined the door. It was too securely fastened to move back and forth more than a fingernail’s paring worth, but it was loose in its hinges, and Elspeth discovered she could lift it straight up so long as she used both hands. It didn’t go far, but it might be far enough.

  “Miss Simkins, get down low and look where I’m pointing,” Elspeth said. She waggled her fingers until she felt Simkins grasp them, then freed her hand and pointed at where the ring was wedged under the door. “When I say pull, grab hold of the ring and pull it free.”

  Elspeth wormed both fingers beneath the door on either side of the ring and squatted low. “Pull!” she said, and lifted with all her might. Her arms strained against the weight of the door, her shoulders ached—

  “I have it, your Majesty!” Simkins exclaimed.

  Elspeth let go of the door and collapsed backward in a heap. “Take that ring to the jail cells,” she panted. “Show it to the guards and tell them the Queen has ordered Mister Faraday’s release. Tell Mister Faraday that Lord Harrington and Lady d’Arden are working together to start a war with Ruskald. And hurry.”

  “I understand. I’ll be back, your Majesty.” Simkins hurried away without any exclamations of surprise. She really was extraordinary.

  Elspeth lay until she wasn’t breathing so heavily, then rolled to her knees and stood. That was something, but she wasn’t going to sit around here and wait passively for her death to walk through that door.

  She decided to take another look at the door. She’d never really looked at a door before, not as anything more than something allowing passage from one room to another, or from outdoors to indoors. The handle was a knob that turned freely, or would do if the door weren’t locked. She shone the Device into the keyhole, but didn’t see anything but empty space. She already knew she wasn’t strong enough to break down the door, and it wasn’t loose enough for her to wiggle it free from the latch. But those loose hinges might be something she could use.

  There were two of them, both of brass, both hidden away inside the door so all she could see was what looked like metal cylinders wedged between the door and the frame. She was too short to get a good look at the upper one, so she knelt and examined the other. The hinge looked simple enough, just a series of stacked, interleaved metal hoops through which a pin was threaded. She picked at the pin and felt it move not at all. There was enough room for her to fit her fingernails under the knobby head of the pin, but not enough for her to get a good grip.

  She let go, frustrated. It was obvious if the pin was removed, the hoops would separate and the door would fall away from the frame. All she needed was some way of removing the pin.

  She scoured the room again for something, anything, that was thin and flat and long enough to help her wiggle the pin free. Nothing. Elspeth sat by the door and fell back into despair. If Simkins couldn’t get Faraday free in time, if she
was gone when they returned…he really was going to kill her. She needed to find a solution.

  She leaned back on both hands and bumped against the light Device, knocking it a few inches from where she’d set it on the floor to illuminate the room. She didn’t know how long the light would last, but she hoped it would be a good long time. Sitting here in the dark waiting for her doom was too much even for her to bear.

  She picked the Device up and examined it. It had three major pieces: its shell, which came in two halves molded to make an easy grip for its user; its light, which was a gleaming glass bead the size of a pea that glowed when you squeezed the case and stopped glowing at a second squeeze; and a piece Elspeth believed told the bead when to glow. That fit between the two halves of the shell and was a long, thin, inflexible piece of metal—

  Elspeth gasped. Then she fitted her fingernails into the space between the halves of the case and pulled. It gave, but didn’t come apart. Swearing, Elspeth pulled harder, and with a sharp crack the case snapped in two and the light went out. Elspeth scrabbled the flat piece of metal free of the case and felt it all over. It was about the length of her palm and fingers and about as wide as her forefinger and middle finger combined, and it was only a little thicker than her fingernails. It radiated a dim purple light, which made her nervous—suppose the magic leaked out?—but not nervous enough to discard it.

  She fitted the strip of metal edge-on to the knob of the hinge pin. It was just thin enough to fit. She slid it so it stuck out from the pin on both sides, then worked at the pin, wiggling the strip of metal while slowly pushing upward on the knob.

  At first, nothing happened. Elspeth gritted her teeth and kept at it. She had nothing better to do, and it beat sitting and staring into the darkness. She wiggled the metal until her fingers were sore, then removed it and groped at the pin. She’d moved it! Only about half an inch, but the pin had definitely slid upward.

  She attacked the pin with greater energy, and after some time—watches really needed Devices that cast a light on their faces so you could read them in the dark—the hinge pin fell and hit the soft carpet with a barely audible thump.

  Elspeth put her fingers under the door again and pulled, this time toward herself. The door separated from the frame and moved toward her at the bottom, but not far—certainly not far enough for her to fit through. The gap lit the room slightly, but Elspeth was too frustrated to care. She let go of the door and let it fall back into place. It wasn’t a perfect fit anymore and had obviously been tampered with.

  Elspeth took a better look at the top hinge. Pulling on the bottom of the door had twisted the top hinge out of true, and it would now be impossible to lever the pin out the way she had the bottom hinge. She kicked the door, making it shift a few inches forward before settling back into place. There had to be a solution. She kicked the door again, eyeing the broken top hinge. It couldn’t be a very strong metal, to twist so easily—

  She grabbed hold of the bottom of the door and pulled toward herself as hard as she could. The gap was larger now. And she wasn’t all that big. She sat on the floor on the side away from the hinges and pulled again. This time, she wedged her leg into the gap and used her knee to shove it farther open, then got her other knee through the space. Halfway out. She shoved with her hands and knees and scooted more of herself into the gap. Now she was thoroughly stuck.

  She twisted and got one shoulder into the space. The top hinge whined at the pressure she was putting on it, her arms were scraped by the edge of the door, but that didn’t matter, because she was…almost…out.

  On that thought, she popped free of the gap and sat, wheezing with exertion, until her heart wasn’t beating quite so fast. Then she stood and dusted herself off. She’d freed herself. It felt good.

  But…now what? Faraday would come here looking for her, and if she left, he wouldn’t know where to find her. On the other hand, she had no idea when Lord Harrington would return, and she absolutely could not be here when he did. Even if she hid in one of the nearby rooms, she couldn’t count on him not searching them for her. So she had to leave, and fast.

  Elspeth headed off down the hall, hoping she remembered enough of the route they’d taken. This was the western half of the palace, and if she had a compass, she could find her way to the north wing, But she had no compass, she had only her poor memory of how she’d gotten here. She firmed up her resolve and trotted away, determined not to get lost.

  In hindsight, she reflected ten minutes later, getting lost was probably a given. What she couldn’t understand was how she hadn’t seen anyone else. The palace might be large, but it was also full of people. Surely she should have seen some of them by now?

  She came around the corner and shrieked in surprise when she nearly ran into someone. The woman was dressed in a servant’s uniform—a palace servant, green and brown, not North livery—and was standing on a short stepstool, reaching up to dust a light fixture high on the wall. She looked at Elspeth curiously. “What are you doing here, miss? These halls are off-limits to the public.”

  Trying to convince this servant she was the Queen would take forever. Elspeth made a lightning-fast decision. “I’m a candidate for the Scholia, and I was told to go there for my examination. But I got lost. Can you tell me which way to go?”

  The woman frowned. “You’re a long way from the Scholia, miss. And I don’t think it’s there anymore. They moved quarters.”

  “Yes, but I’m a…I want to be a librarian, and I was to see Master Coll Trapane about my course of study. Please, can you help me? I’m going to be late, I’m sure.”

  The woman stepped off the stool and walked toward Elspeth. “Go back the way you came and take the second hall on the right. Follow that hallway past three turnings, left, right, left, and take the next left. That hall ends in stairs. Go up the stairs one flight, take the first right off that landing, and that hall leads to the Royal Library.”

  “Thank you,” Elspeth said, and took off before the woman could ask any more questions.

  She recited the directions in her head: second right, third left, up the stairs, right off the first landing. Simple. Even she could do it.

  The second hall on the right had a floor of two-foot-wide red tiles, gently pitted with age, and each hall leading off it was flanked by pillars and a carved wooden arch. Elspeth flew past, counting, idly noticing that the carvings were all different animals, a deer, a dog, a badger. The third left was a snake. Elspeth shuddered. Snakes made her uncomfortable. But this was the right turning—

  —except the hall kept going and going and there were no stairs in sight. No doors, either. Elspeth came to a halt and cursed. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t even follow basic directions? When this was over, she was going out with a guide and a compass and she was going to map the damn palace down to its bones.

  Going back didn’t make sense, especially since it might arouse the servant’s suspicions, and Elspeth wanted to pass through the palace unnoticed. She set off walking again. The hall was as long as the one leading to the Judiciary, but Elspeth thought it sloped gradually upward by the amount of tension in her calves.

  She needed a better plan. Ideally, she needed to get to the north wing, have someone call out all the North guards, and set Lieutenant Anselm to summoning the Tremontanan captains who could be trusted. Then they could work on finding Lord Harrington and Lady d’Arden and arresting them and all the traitorous guards working for them. Elspeth’s chest ached at the memory of those slain North guards. They would receive justice, she promised.

  Finally, Elspeth saw stairs in the distance. The servant just hadn’t been specific as to how far apart everything was. With renewed hope, she ran for the stairs and clattered up them. They were an iron spiral, very tight, and Elspeth was dizzy when she arrived at the first landing. She stood still with her eyes closed for a moment, gripping the toan jade through her shirt. Then she drew a deep breath and made for the first right.

  The servant hadn’t bee
n completely accurate; the first right actually led to a short, tunnel-like hall that let out on the freezing ancient corridor that only went to the Library and, past that, a little door opening on the palace grounds. And just like that, Elspeth’s sense of where she was snapped into place. She turned and ran for the north wing.

  She started to see people, mostly servants, a few green and brown soldiers she avoided. Almost there. Nobody hailed her or tried to stop her. Up one more ramp, and around the corner, and then she’d see the short flight of stairs leading up to the halls of the North wing.

  She came around the corner and froze. A knot of green and brown soldiers stood only two feet away from her, completely filling the corridor. They came to attention immediately. Just like they’d been waiting for her.

  Elspeth turned to run and heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked. “Don’t move,” a woman said. “I will shoot.”

  25

  Elspeth slowly turned around. The corridor was empty of everyone but her and the soldiers. She opened her mouth to scream, and found the pistol’s barrel suddenly inches from her face. “Start walking,” the woman said. “Just act like nothing’s wrong. I’ll tell you where to go.”

  Elspeth took a step backward. She should run anyway. The woman might not hit anything vital—those pistols were notoriously inaccurate…over long distances. Not at point-blank range. Where in the hell were all those people who were in and out of the north wing all day? “Put that pistol down,” she said, and this time her voice was steady. “This is your one chance. Put it down, let me go, and you won’t be executed for treason. I won’t make this offer again.”

  The woman smiled, but her gun didn’t waver. “You won’t be Queen much longer, and it won’t matter,” she said. “Walk. Now. Or I’ll shoot you in the leg and we’ll carry you.”