Annette laughed and brandished her wineglass. “Yes! We would write the laws differently, wouldn’t we? Ladies inheriting estates and titles. Married women keeping their property.”
“If only we could rewrite everything.” Viola sighed, laying a hand on Annette’s arm.
“Well, draft something for next fall’s session,” Theodor said. “The vote is final, we’ve prevailed, hurrah, and now on to the next thing.” We had met with the foreign minister, Lord Crestmont, to discuss the travel arrangements and high points of the summit’s agenda. It was clear that he was not particularly pleased that I was accompanying them, though he was mollified at the inclusion of the once-Princess Annette.
It was clear, as well, that the delegation had explicit designs on negotiating a marriage for Annette while we were abroad. From the pained glance Annette and Viola shared, it was clear they knew, too.
Suddenly overwhelmed, by the celebration of what we’d worked so long to accomplish, by the daunting tasks that lay ahead, by the prospect of an official role at an international summit, I excused myself. I moved away from the laughter and chatter at the center of the party toward the quiet avenues of green hedges that bordered the formal gardens. The public gardens closed at dusk, and the silence and shadows of a lingering summer evening gave me space to breathe.
“Well done, you.”
I jumped, tripping over a bit of loose brick in the walkway. A steady hand caught my arm. I whirled, gripping the hand, and faced a laughing Niko. “Sweet hell, Niko. Are you on the guest list?”
He released my arm. “Don’t be snippy. I was just… taking in the view.”
“Did you climb a fence?”
“I take it even a great patron of the public gardens like the crown prince doesn’t know about the water gate.” He grinned. “Down where the fountain runoff drains into the river. It’s a bit mucky, but—”
“You shouldn’t be here, you prize idiot! If you were caught, I couldn’t help you.”
“What? I just think it a bit gauche that your party didn’t include a slightly more stratified guest list.”
“It’s not my party.”
“Figures.” He scuffed his toe against the loose brick. “I wanted to see my allies up close.”
“Allies.”
“Don’t make any mistake, Sophie. You got your bill passed. But they’re going to fight you on keeping those laws. Every damn step. So I wanted to see—who have I got on the same side as me? I also hoped I’d find someone I could pass this along to.” He pressed a letter into my hand. I moved to put it in my pocket, but he stopped me. “It’s not from me. It’s intercepted. Read it.”
“Intercepted?” I asked as I unfolded the paper. The seal was already broken. I recognized the device—Pommerly.
“We do more than distribute pamphlets, you know.”
I was primed to argue about his disregard for both privacy and the legality of stealing mail when I scanned the opening lines of the missive. It was brief, but directive. Wait until the crown prince is gone, then hold up the election proceedings. Levy new taxes before any new council can be convened. Garrison provincial fortifications with loyal troops. “Do you know what this is?”
“Active treasonous writing, yes.”
“Who was this addressed to?”
Niko shrugged. “Don’t know. Coded envelope. That’s how I knew it was important, make sense?”
“Surely it’s only that Pommerly idiot,” I breathed. “And surely—surely this isn’t actually happening.”
“Maybe. Maybe he’s just upset and venting a few ill-conceived ideas.” Niko shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
Before I could ask anything more, about where the letter came from, about what he intended to do, shadows and voices echoed down the path. Niko cut through a gap in the hedge and I was left alone, a damning writ of treason in my hands.
18
WITH THE VOTE FINALIZED AND THE REFORMS UNDER WAY, THEODOR had to shift swiftly into planning for the Five-Year Summit despite the enormous task of actually instituting the reforms. He entrusted setting elections to the Council of Nobles with the anxiety of a mother letting someone else hold her newborn baby for the first time. Given that any accusations against Pommerly would be made on the basis of a letter stolen by a fugitive, he hid the evidence in his study, showing only his brother Ambrose to confirm the legal implications of what was written.
I barely saw Theodor, as he spent the long summer days studying historical and current trade agreements and shipping routes, as fair use of trade ways and fishing grounds was the prime piece of negotiation at this year’s summit. The Allied Equatorial States, a nation of islands, claimed that the West Serafans and Galatines in particular taxed trade routes and ports to their gain unfairly. The East Serafans, lacking extensive waterways of their own in the highly trafficked trade routes, were eager to curtail Galitha and West Serafe. Kvyset, with its uncontested near-arctic waters, was expected to remain circumspect in their opinions. It didn’t escape me that Pellia, along with Fen, was not considered important enough to attend the summit at all, though both island nations certainly would be affected by any agreements on seafaring trade.
We shared a short and disappointing dinner in the garden days before our departure. It was almost too warm to eat, and Theodor’s leather satchel bulged with papers, letters, and carefully folded maps. He pulled out one letter and sighed.
“From Lady Crestmont,” Theodor said. “She says an attack of gout on poor old Lord Crestmont will prevent them from joining us.”
I glanced at her warbling, shaky handwriting. “That’s too bad, I certainly hope he’ll feel better,” I said.
Theodor snorted, and I started, appalled that he would be so callous. “Come now, I’m not so cruel as to wish gout on even him,” he replied. “I saw him two days ago, as hale as a horse. I can’t help but wonder if he’s avoiding the trip.” He paused. “He and Pommerly are great allies in the council.”
Even in the thick heat that lingered in the summer evening, I felt a chill. “You think he’s staying behind to cause trouble with Pommerly, or staying behind to avoid being affiliated with you?”
“Perhaps both, perhaps neither. Ah, it’s no matter. We’ll have Admiral and Lady Merhaven, and Annette. No more retinue needed, and frankly, it will make for better company anyway.”
“But if he does intend to plan something with Pommerly, or others—”
“Plan all he likes, the law is final.”
I picked at the crust of bread in my hand. The law may have been final, but the nobles who had opposed it didn’t have to make the implementation easy. I opened my mouth, ready to ask if Theodor truly had to leave the country, if he couldn’t stay to shepherd the law a little longer. But I knew the answer. I bit into my bread instead. It was dry and dissolved to crumbs.
While Theodor gained fluency in international trade, I had to finish my summer-weight clothes and, heavier work, shut up the shop. There was a symbolic finality to hanging a sign lettered in bold CLOSED, and cleaning out the inventory of fabric still piled in the back, a finality I had hoped to avoid in passing the store off to Alice.
The charmed shelves still glowed with the good fortune Theodor had spun from his melody and that I had embedded in the wood. The silks and cottons and wools stacked neatly by fiber and color waited to be carted to Theodor’s, where he had agreed to store them until our return. I traced a particularly delicate yellow silk, fabric that I had hoped some demure brunette would choose for a ball gown, and picked up a bolt of fine blue Fenian wool that I had envisioned as a traveling suit for someone with a pink-and-white complexion.
“You’re nearly done,” a timid voice said from the doorway. Emmi.
“Yes—oh, don’t come in. It’s a dirty mess in here.” I gestured to the soot already covering my checked apron. I had worn my oldest, simplest worsted wool gown and wished I had something I cared about even less to subject to the mess.
“I got a packet from a bank
this morning,” Emmi said. “It had—it had way too much money in it.”
I smiled. “No, it didn’t. That’s a severance payment. It’s…” I couldn’t say it was purely standard, as it wasn’t. Far from it, as Theodor had given me enough to pay my assistants the equivalent of a full year’s wage. “It’s the least I could do,” I said.
“Thank him for me.” Emmi scanned the room. “How was it that the fabric wasn’t destroyed? This place looks like nothing could have survived.”
“Luck,” I replied honestly.
Emmi shook her head. “Even for a business dealing in luck, that’s luck.” She turned back toward the street. “Good, she’s here!”
Alice appeared in the doorway next to Emmi, crowding the frame.
“Outside, both of you,” I said.
“I wanted to thank you,” Alice said.
“Don’t thank me for severance,” I replied.
“Not only that,” Alice said. “You’ve given me good work and better opportunity. That’s something to be grateful for.” My throat tightened—I wanted to give her much more than that. Not only had I failed Alice, I was failing Emmi and Heda and all the other women Alice might have one day employed. I bit back tears.
“Alice?” Emmi prodded.
“Right. I brought cake.”
She produced a lumpy gingerbread loaf from her basket. I laughed. “Is this one of those bakery castoffs your cousin gives you?”
“Of course,” Alice said.
“Heda didn’t want to come,” Emmi added, “but she sends her thanks as well.” I could imagine the many reasons Heda had chosen to avoid an impromptu farewell gathering, but chose to ignore all the possibilities about associating with a “Politicking Witch” and instead chose to believe that she was still very new and hadn’t been fully invested in the shop yet.
We settled on the curb and split the cake, not saying much at all as the bolts of fabric were loaded into the cart.
“Wait!”
I started—Viola trotted down the street in her chemise gown, a white beacon in the midday sun.
“The fabric—hold on.” She laid a hand on her ballooning silk hat, keeping it from floating away as she hurried toward us.
Alice watched with a carefully neutral expression, while Emmi gaped with her mouth fully open. Though nobles took strolls in the finer districts in Galitha City, running over the cobblestones was far from typical.
“Vio—Lady Snowmont,” I said, glancing at my employees.
“Sophie, I didn’t want to say anything unless I could work something out.” She laid a hand on the pile of fabric bolts, catching her breath. “Theodor told me your plans for the shop, for Alice, and how the fire caused a mess of things. I called in a favor with Lord Cherryvale—the Lord of Coin—and if you still wanted Alice to take over the business, he’ll sign off on a new license.”
“That’s very kind, but I haven’t a new location—”
“Oh, of course—no, that was part of the deal. The lease has been paid for a storefront on High Street. It’s a bit smaller than your spot now, but—”
“High Street?” Alice gasped. “That’s—” She snapped her mouth shut.
“I made sure that the rents were equivalent.” Viola’s brow tightened. “Did I make a mistake, is High Street—”
“No, it’s—it’s more than perfect. It’s a… nicer area than this is, I had hoped to move there someday.” I exhaled, overwhelmed by this. “I can’t think of how to thank you, and I oughtn’t to accept at all, but…”
“This only happened because of all you did for the reforms. And you won’t be here to take advantage of those reforms to keep your shop going without a bit of a push so…” She waved a hand. “Cherryvale owed me. I introduced his pockmarked whelp of a son to the only woman in the world who shares his love of ornithology. I don’t think they’d have gotten him out of the house otherwise.”
“Then… thank you,” I said, the chasm between the words and the debt I felt I owed Viola wide and hollow. I had nothing to offer her, nothing of value. “I don’t think I can repay a favor like this.”
She gripped my arm with unexpected strength. “You can help Annette. In West Serafe, at the summit.”
“I fear she’s more likely to help me.” I almost laughed. “She’s far more likely to know what she’s doing among all those dignitaries.”
Viola’s eyes leveled with mine in a grim line. “They’ll be wanting her to come home with the beginnings of a marriage arrangement. Perhaps not a notarized betrothal contract yet, but something with good intentions for their alliances and a wretched end for her. Her mother knows her stock is slipping the longer she isn’t a princess and the older she gets; she wants her to drive her stake in now, to claim something that will last. Crestmont and Merhaven both know she’s still worth something at the negotiating table.
“Even Theodor…” She exhaled through her nose. “He’ll put aside all sorts of tradition and expectation to marry you, and I don’t deny it’s politically advantageous to gain the trust of the people. But he won’t be of any help when it comes to passing up the security marriages lend to international alliances. He won’t shield Annette.”
“How… Viola, I barely understand what I’m supposed to do at the summit, let alone how I can be of any help to anyone else.”
“You don’t need to work it out for yourself. But if Annette asks, please. Help her in whatever way she needs.”
I nodded slowly, even though this was a favor with different stakes. Viola had expended money, perhaps some political capital, wasted a favor she likely didn’t need. Whatever Annette might ask left me open to all sorts of possibilities. Still, I would have done what I could to help Annette even without favors owed to Viola, and it was a small price to pay for the security I knew Alice, Emmi, and Heda would have in a new, better shop on High Street. So I broke off a piece of my gingerbread cake and gave it to Viola. She accepted, letting go of my arm, and we watched as the last of the fabric was loaded into the wagon.
19
I STOOD NEXT TO ANNETTE BY THE RAIL OF THE GYRFALCON, THE ship pointing her nose toward West Serafe as we left Galitha City’s port to open water. She wasn’t a huge vessel, not intended to impress foreign dignitaries or Galatine nobles, but Admiral Merhaven had chosen her himself, praising her “clean lines” and “right rigging,” terms I didn’t understand. Her speed, which he had also extolled, I did comprehend. We’d given ourselves scant extra time to make the journey to Isildi, the capital city of West Serafe, and relied on the Gyrfalcon’s purported ability to, per Merhaven, “carve the waves of even the Midway Sea like a pat of butter.” Theodor’s brother Ballantine, more properly Lieutenant Westland on this ship, tolerated Merhaven’s excessive metaphors with taciturn deference, but I knew that Theodor appreciated his brother’s presence, reliable albeit silent.
“You seem at home on board a ship,” I said to Annette.
“Enough trips accompanying my father, I suppose. But I’ve always liked the water. The possibility in it—once you’re on a ship, you could go anywhere,” she explained with an impish smile. “If I’d been born a boy, I’d have joined the Royal Navy, I think.”
“If you’d been born a boy, you’d have been heir to the throne,” I reminded her, then winced. She’d be king, not heir, and acknowledging that brushed up against the loss of her father, wounds still raw and painful.
Annette was kind enough to let my insensitivity pass without remark. “Even had I been first son, waiting on an inheritance to a crown, a naval career wouldn’t be unheard of. But a girl—that would never do.” She glanced at the sails unfurling over us. “They’d do well to let her out a bit if we’re to take advantage of this wind.”
I laughed. “And a fine sailor you’d make!”
“I used to follow the sailors around and watch them work until my mother caught on. She might not have minded the observing, but I was overhearing language that would have shocked my tutors.” She laughed, then she looked back over th
e rail. “The city looks so pretty from the water,” she mused.
“I’ve never seen it this way,” I said. “In the midst of it, it doesn’t look so deliberate, somehow. From here it looks like a painting, all the buildings in layers as though someone meant it.”
“And in the middle of Fountain Square, it feels like a maze. Sometimes distance adds an artist’s touch where none was ever intended.”
“And so white and clean,” I added. “You don’t see the horse dung or the dingy alleys and even all that dark gray stone looks paler when the sun is hitting it, from here.”
Annette smiled. “I confess I don’t see much of the dung, myself.”
“Am I interrupting state talks?” Theodor joined us at the rail.
“Yes, very important, height of secrecy,” Annette said. “We’re far too busy for you.”
“Even if I’m here to brief you on agendas and itineraries?”
Annette groaned. “Especially that. Can’t you just enjoy the view and forget that we’re duty bound into a fortnight of obligatory smiling and forced pleasantries?”
“You have today to enjoy the cruise, but we’re docking at Havensport tomorrow to collect Admiral Merhaven’s wife and will have to do a bit of waving and handshaking while we’re there.”
“What exactly does that mean?” I asked. “Waving and handshaking?” I had known we planned a couple of brief stops in Galatine ports on our way—nothing that would slow us down overmuch, but would satisfy everyone’s insistence that we give some attention to our own people as we made our way to Serafe. I was less clear what, exactly, was expected of me.
“For you and Annette, fairly literal meaning. I anticipate that we’ll be greeted at the dock by a fair-size crowd eager to glimpse royalty—yes, I’m sure they’ll be disappointed by me—and you two ladies can disembark, make your way to the waiting carriage, and throw a few smiles into the crowd.”
“Like acrobats and mummers in a parade. Lovely.” Annette beamed a wholly insincere smile.
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