by Anna Bright
Guilt and victory warred in my stomach. Finally, I met Yu’s gaze and forced myself not to flinch. “I made a deal. The safe passage of one of the hertsoh’s daughters for the arms.” I set my jaw. “Her circumstances were dire, the weapons went where they were intended to go, and I’m not sorry for what I did.”
One by one, the Waldleute continued out the stern door with crates of arms, with barrels of gunpowder, their Zhōngwén labels bobbing along above the deck to remind me of what I’d done and whom I’d betrayed.
Something like shame washed over me. But I wanted to shout at all of them—Andersen and Homer and Lang and Yu. Do you still think I’m a child? Would you trust me with your confidences now, if you had to do it over again?
A shoulder bumped against mine, and I started. “Well, look who’s looking pleased with herself,” Skop crowed.
I gave an uncomfortable laugh. But when I met Skop’s eyes, they were as uncertain as I felt. He opened his arms, as if asking permission. Asking if we were all right.
I was pleased. And better still, I was home. I walked into Skop’s arms and wrapped him in the tightest hug I could manage.
Over his shoulder, I saw Anya approaching. My heart rose at the sight of her.
“Does this mean you’re finished?” She gave a tentative smile.
“Yes.” I took her hand, hoping she’d read how much I missed her in my squeeze of her fingers. How much I was ready to fix things between us and rejoice in all that had gone right for her. “Yes. We can go home now.”
But I spoke too soon.
I took my last happy breath as I glanced out over the bank and saw a soldier clap his hand over Leirauh’s mouth.
26
They swarmed the banks of the Reyn like a cloud of gray smoke.
The deck felt insubstantial beneath my feet. It was only the roll of the ship on the water. But I knew that all was lost.
I had told myself that out in the woods, the wild itself shielded me from Baba Yaga’s view. How wrong I had been.
Before I could stop myself, I raced down the gangplank, hurtling toward the riverbank. “No!”
Shouts and cries broke out behind me as the Waldleute scattered; it looked like some of them managed to escape. I prayed it was so. I prayed that Fritz and the other girls had made it back to the castle from the ball already, that the resistance would make it away with their weapons.
I prayed that all of this—my months lost and my misery and my father left alone—had not been for nothing.
“No!” I screamed again. I dove for the soldier restraining Leirauh.
I caught him off guard. It was the only reason he stumbled back, releasing her. I pinned the soldier to the ground, awkward in my dress, my hands scrabbling at his wrists.
“GO!” I shouted at Leirauh. “Run!”
She hesitated a moment. Her eyes were terrified.
“Please,” I begged her.
Something good had to come from this nightmare. All this lying, all this betrayal, had to mean something.
Leirauh took the arm of a rebel and ran.
The soldier twisted beneath my limbs and jerked free. When he seized me, his grip was iron, cruel and tight.
I’d only managed to free Leirauh because I’d surprised him so thoroughly. There would be no getting away from him now. But I kept fighting, twisting and snarling when he didn’t let go.
A few feet off, Gretel threw a punch at a thin, gray-clad soldier. He reeled, and she backed away, shouting at one of the Waldleute, who seized the last of the gunpowder barrels and took off. I kept struggling in my soldier’s grip, throwing my elbows into his ribs, kicking.
Gretel turned to look back at me just once.
“Remember what you promised to do!” I screamed at her. “Don’t you dare forget!”
She nodded. And then she ran.
I had fled Asgard in the dark of night, with Aleksei’s aid and Torden’s kiss on my lips and Anya safe at my side. It did not look as though we would be so lucky this time.
Perhaps one daring escape was all anyone could ask for.
The last of the Waldleute had disappeared through the trees. We were alone in the Black Forest.
It would have to be enough that I had been able to help Leirauh. That we had armed the Waldleute, done what we came here to do.
I tried to remember that as the soldiers boarded my ship, seized my crew, and hauled us away.
27
Hertsoh Maximilian was waiting for us in the early light of dawn.
The castle looked just as it had the first day we’d arrived in the Shvartsval’d. As we were hauled down the narrow corridor to the throne room, watery light streamed in through the few windows that weren’t shuttered. In the throne room, courtiers wearing robes and weary expressions huddled against the cold and damp and the eerie silence, quieter still to my ears after the light and music of the ball. Perrault resembled nothing so much as the dismayed rosy-cheeked angels frescoed on the ceiling.
And there, again, sat the hertsoh on a dais, looking surprised and displeased to see me.
“Your Grace,” I panted as a guard forced me near the dais. “You’re up awfully early.”
“And you’re looking overdressed for bed,” he snapped, taking in my black dress, my dark crown. His face was flushed, his eyes glassy with anger. “I’ve been up late, counting my children.”
My eyes darted to the side of the room where nine of the ten freinnen and Fritz waited, all in their pajamas.
I didn’t know how they’d gotten back and changed so quickly. The girls had even wiped off their makeup, their faces scrubbed clean. My heart nearly burst with relief.
“Interesting,” I said simply.
“Interesting?” The hertsoh stood, practically spitting bile. “Leirauh is gone!”
I glanced over at Fritz and the freinnen again. “You do seem to be missing one.”
My tone was light. My body was shaking in fear. I refused to give in to it.
Leirauh is free, Leirauh is free, I told myself again and again.
And I had chosen this.
They’re not going to cook you, Cobie had told me once upon a time, another night, in another ballroom.
The hertsoh might actually cook me alive. I was drowning in dread; I was in the hands of Imperiya soldiers. Anything could happen in this court.
Maximilian was entirely unlike cold Alfödr. The konge had been controlling and self-righteous—and possessed of basic decency. The same could not be said of the hertsoh.
Duke Maximilian rose and stomped off the dais, spitting something in Yotne at his children. Instinctively, I turned to Perrault, who rushed to my side, clinging to the edges of a pink silk dressing gown and looking terrified at Lang’s split lip bleeding onto his shirt, at Anya’s hair, full of leaves from where she’d been pushed to the ground. “What’s he saying?”
Perrault winced. “He’s asking the reichsfürst and freinnen if they had anything to do with her leaving. With—Leirauh.”
“Ni, Batyushka,” said each of the children, one after another.
No, Papa. No, Papa.
They lied convincingly. Like children who’d had months—years—of practice lying to a parent.
My momma had loved me with her whole soul. Daddy loved me more than his own life. My godmother saw the truth in me and let me talk about it in my own time. They would never hurt me or debase me the way this man did the children he was meant to care for. I was a terrible liar, because I trusted my family.
The practiced deception of Fritz and the freinnen hurt my heart.
It made me even more determined not to cower when the hertsoh loped over to me, shaking in his anger. I would betray no fear.
I looked him in the eyes.
“Do you know where Leirauh is?”
“No.”
“Do you know how she got away?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
The hertsoh swore, spittle flying, handsome face creasing in anger. “I knew I should never have l
et you pass through my doors,” he hissed. “My bride has disappeared, because of you!”
“Leirauh’s safe from you,” I said. “I won’t be sorry for that, whatever you do to me, you despicable lizard of a man.”
The throne room was silent. I took myself in hand, stood my ground the way Cobie and Homer had always done, lifted my chin and hid my feelings, as Yu had shown me to.
And when I opened my mouth, Perrault’s words came out.
Pride had answered, in Asgard, to his display of respect. I had to hope, here, that the hertsoh’s tantrum would answer to authority. To threats.
It was a risk to invoke her name. But Maximilian behaved as if he was god of his whole universe, dwelling as he did on the fringes of the Imperiya.
Perhaps he needed to be reminded that there was still a tsarytsya at its center, and he was accountable to her for his actions.
“I was to marry into your family,” I said, contemptuous. “I was brought here at the invitation of the tsarytsya herself, and what do I find? A court in ruins, a rotting castle, and her hertsoh attempting to marry a girl he raised as his daughter?” I spat at his feet. “Disgusting. A crime against nature. I can’t imagine what your empress was thinking.”
“What the tsarytsya was thinking? What do you know of her court and her ways, girl?” The hertsoh gave a wild laugh. It chilled my bones like freezing rain. Then the duke paused and studied me, his body going still but his eyes glittering. “Would you like to ask her?”
I knew, suddenly, that I had made a fatal mistake.
Maximilian had been prepared to deal with me on his own. The tsarytsya was a gray shadow in the corner, as omnipresent and as ignored as the mildew on the walls. Far-flung as we were here, she was a distant point on the map.
But I had spoken her name. Unprompted, I had conjured her presence.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. My feet skidded a little on the mosaic floor, as if the tiles had unexpectedly iced over. Or perhaps my knees had just given out.
I’d avoided her gaze so carefully for so long. The tsarytsya had issued my invitation; but I could have let her forget me.
And like a fool, I had spoken her name, powerful as any incantation, foul and potent as any curse.
In all the tales, to speak a monster’s name was to invite it in. I should have known.
I glanced over at Lang and found him watching me in abject horror. No, he mouthed. No. But the damage had been done.
The hertsoh nodded at one of the gray-uniformed guards. “Escort our guest to Grandmother Wolf’s court. See if nasha tsarytsya takes greater issue with the seneschal-elect’s rabble- rousing and fraternizing with the enemy, or with my choice of wife.” He paused. “Her maid, too. A great lady like herself must not be without her companion.” Then he made to return to bed.
The soldiers began to haul Cobie and me toward the door. “No!” I shouted, just as Margarethe shouted, “Wait!”
The hertsoh paused in the doorframe.
“You can’t punish my friend,” I said breathlessly. “This is not her fault.”
“We both knew what this could cost us, and we chose it,” Cobie said, voice low and tight. “Don’t you dare forget that we chose this. Don’t let them take that away, that we did this for someone.”
The hertsoh waved a hand. “But I can punish her.” He paused. “Also, I don’t care.” Above his head, chubby angels with mold-spotted faces clung to faded banners and looked on in sad confusion. “And you—what?” he asked Margarethe, irritated.
“I’d like to speak with the seneschal-elect. She deserves to know exactly what we think of her,” said the oldest of the freinnen. Her tone was laced with venom. I cringed.
“Very well.” The hertsoh rolled his eyes. He waved a hand, and the Imperiya soldier let me go. “Twist the knife, as I suppose you must. Then take her.”
Slowly, slowly, I dragged myself to the head of the line of Hertsoh Maximilian’s daughters, and faced his eldest.
Margarethe gripped my arms in her fists, thin fingers straining around the sleeves of my gown. The beads in my epaulettes rattled as she shook me.
Her face was strained, furious, but her voice was low.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you. I will never be able to thank you enough for freeing my sister.” She wet her lips. “We will do for you what we can.”
Fritz came to his sister’s side. His light brown eyes were blank, but I saw beneath the expression in the clear light of dawn.
“You manipulated me, I think,” he said. “There in the beginning.”
“I also got underfoot,” I agreed. “And interfered with your work.”
“And I’ll never be able to repay you for any of it.” Fritz glanced around and leaned near to me. “Don’t forget our call sign. Fur die Freiheit. Fur die Wildnis. I will plead your case to Gretel and to whomever else I can.” He paused. “I am sorry, Selah.”
“No. I chose this. I choose this,” I said. “For Leirauh.”
“It was expertly done. Clever girl.” Fritz smiled, just a little. “You will need all your cleverness now, I’m afraid.”
He squeezed my hand once more. And then I turned to the Beholder’s crew.
Basile. Vishnu. J.J. Jeanne. Will. Yasumaro.
Perrault. Homer. Skop. Anya. Andersen. Yu.
Lang.
My story. My home. My family. I wished them far from this place. I never wanted to leave them.
Homer wrapped me in a hug, iron muscles and iron beard sheltering me for the briefest of moments. When he drew back, he tapped one of the black pearls in my tiara, gray eyes serious. “You deserve this crown, and everything it means.”
The others embraced me as well, kissed my cheeks goodbye. Will cried as he hugged Cobie, and guilt surged over me afresh. Yu told me he was sorry.
“Don’t be,” I said fiercely. “I’m not. I’m proud of what we’ve done.”
“I’m proud, too.” He scraped a hand over his short black hair. “Despite it all.”
All except for Cobie. “You were going to stay out of this,” I said to her. I couldn’t keep the desperation out of my voice. “You and Will.”
Cobie shook her head. “We stick together,” she said simply.
For the first time since we’d been captured, I had to fight back tears.
Perrault approached, looking baffled, and I felt an unexpected pang of sadness. “What will you say to Alessandra?” I asked. “No fiancé to present to her, after all this.”
But his expression didn’t lighten. “Everyone you loved failed you,” he said. “And I helped them.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” I gripped Perrault’s elbows, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I would not have missed this journey.” I paused to glance over at Lang.
No. I trusted Perrault. It had to be him.
I lowered my voice. “Perrault—find my radio. Contact Norge—tell Torden what happened. Tell England. It’s on my bed, in the book in my cabin, and—”
“Enough,” growled the guard standing just behind us, pushing Perrault away. The protocol officer stumbled back to join the crew, eyes wide.
Lang came to me last.
His dark hair was tousled. Dirt streaked his white shirt, and his left eye was a tender purple and swollen shut. He rolled his wrists as his guard released him, just for a moment.
“I’m so sorry,” I breathed.
“It’s not your fault,” Lang said. “It’s not.”
But it was.
Back in Asgard and before, Lang had been the one to keep the truth from me; he was the reason we’d been cast out for traitors. This time, I was the one who had kept my cards too close. The reins had been in my hands when things went off course.
Perhaps we wouldn’t have been discovered if I’d left Lang in charge. Perhaps we’d all be safe aboard now, sailing home, toward my father.
Or perhaps they’d been watching our ship since we’d arrived. Perhaps my choices would’ve made no difference.
But one thing would have been different, certainly: Leirauh’s fate.
Lang’s hands were stained with mud now as they’d been stained with ink and charcoal the first time I’d met him. His fingers curled slowly, carefully around mine.
“England. Norge. Now Shvartsval’d.” I gave a sad little laugh. “Again, the dignified exit eludes me.”
“You’re exquisite,” he blurted. “You’re a wreck. You have absolutely wrecked me.”
I couldn’t catch my breath. “What?”
“You’re every midnight I’ve seen these past months. Every sunrise.” He swallowed hard. “Every day—I tried. I tried to find the right time to talk to you, but I could never quite—”
It hurt too much. “Lang, we don’t have to—”
“I never got my chance,” he cut me off quietly. “No one else ever had a chance, after you met him.”
I knew who he meant.
Lang traced my engagement ring where it rested on my index finger. “This could never have been mine. But maybe—” I glanced up and found his dark eyes memorizing me. “But maybe this—this, just once—could be mine.”
Lang bent his head, slowly, giving me a chance to pull away.
I blinked at him but didn’t move.
In one breath, two, his lips were on mine.
His mouth was as warm as a summer night, salty as the ocean with his sweat and tears. His hands—an artist’s hands—cupped my neck, wound themselves into the soft hairs at my nape. I moved slow, careful, gentle, cautious of his bruises, but still, I felt him wince; his upturned nose nudged my cheek, lashes fluttering against my skin.
Slowly, I felt him tug the engagement ring from my finger, press it into my cupped hand. “Hide this, or they’ll take it,” he whispered against my jaw, and I dropped it quickly into my bodice.
When we broke away, I looked into Lang’s face one last time. Two soft eyelashes had fallen into the hollow beneath his unmarred right eye.
I swiped the lashes from his skin and blew them off into the air.
Anya clung to Skop, her fingers tight around his shoulders. One of her braids was coming loose, and she was fighting back tears.
