Enzo noticed my slip. Opened his mouth like he would ask me to finish that sentence.
“I think Mother wants you to keep dancing.” Chiara nodded behind Enzo, toward the dais.
Enzo let out a sigh, then pasted on a wide smile, showing off his crooked bottom teeth. He bowed low to us, and when he rose, locked eyes with mine. “Will you do me the honor of this dance…Chiara?” His gaze shifted to his sister when he said her name.
A breeze from the terrace found its way in, lifting the hairs on the back of my neck. Chiara took his hand, and they assumed their position on the dance floor. But when he turned his sister into his arms, he was staring past her, right at me. I clenched my skirt in my fists, wishing I could be anywhere but here.
Though Chiara had her fair share of partners long into the night, Enzo favored almost every woman there with at least one dance. Except me. I understood it. Agreed with it.
But by the end of the ball, the courtiers waited with bated breath for an announcement, and he hadn’t chosen another betrothed. He claimed he needed more time.
When I’d finally returned Chiara to her rooms, I was too tired to do anything but drink the cup of tea Yesilia had left on my table and crawl into bed.
And while a tiny seed of hope took root that he hadn’t chosen someone, I couldn’t give it light, couldn’t let it grow. He was no longer an option for me.
* * *
A shaft of light streaming through the window gouged into my eyes the next day, waking me from a deep slumber.
I blinked.
Wasn’t I supposed to be somewhere? I shook my head.
A bitter taste coated my mouth.
Chiara. I should be with Chiara right now.
I stumbled out of bed as a sense of urgency swooped into my fuzzy mind. I fell against the table as I put on my boots, knocking my cup over and spilling its remaining contents onto my yellow scarf I’d left folded there last night. My sword. Where was…I shook my head again trying to focus. Yesilia’s room. I meant to be quiet but crashed against the door. It banged against the wall, but her room was empty.
It took me two tries to get my sheath fastened around my waist. Piercing brightness poured through the hall windows when I left the healing chamber. Had I ever slept this late?
A few passing servants gave me a strange look, but I ignored them and tried to get the thoughts in my brain to align. I had to meet up with Chiara. I found her room after two wrong turns and pushed open the door. It was empty. Her bed was made.
Then I remembered.
Panic coursed through my system, clearing out the cobwebs enough to find the missing piece: She’d asked me to accompany her. Didn’t trust her guard for the meeting with that Riigan.
I sprinted into the hallway, skidding to a stop at the nearest window. The light speared into my skull as I searched the grounds.
“Can I help you, Miss Aleinn?”
Romo’s concerned eyes took in my disheveled appearance.
“Chiara. Where is she?” My words were slurred, and my thoughts kept slamming into a stone wall.
Romo’s eyes narrowed, but he pointed toward the east staircase. “She was headed toward the gardens a half hour ago.”
The maze! I turned and almost plowed into a maid carrying a pile of linens. I dodged around her, slammed into the wall, stumbled down the stairs, and burst out the side door of the palace.
Heat already thickened the air, coating my skin in a thin layer of sweat. Luc stood at the entrance to the hedge garden. I almost missed it, and turned sharp. Too sharp. The gravel under me shifted. I put out my hand to keep from falling. The small rocks bit into my palm, but the pain only focused my mind more as I ran. My skirt snagged on a bush, and I cursed, snatching the extra fabric into my fist.
Enzo stood with a pair of young ladies in one of the alcoves in the maze, but I picked up my pace and hurtled by.
“Aleinn?” he called. But I was listening for something else, something out of place.
I took corners blindly, using my instincts and something that felt like a tether to guide me. And then I heard it—a shrill cry, cut off sharply.
A high wall of shrubbery with a bench at the bottom lay straight ahead. The sound had come from the other side. I sprinted down the path, leapt onto the bench, and vaulted. Time seemed to slow, then stop, as I jumped. For half a heartbeat, I was frozen above the hedge in the act of pulling my sword from its sheath. The man she’d danced with last night held Chiara, one hand around her waist, the other over her mouth. She stood frozen, wide-eyed, fingernails digging into his flesh. Another man, armed, guarded the entrance to the little alcove.
Time sped up again. I landed on my feet, sword drawn, and slammed my hilt into the arm the man had wrapped around Chiara. My momentum forced all three of us to the ground, and I pushed Chiara away as I rolled. The princess scooted back from her captor and started screaming. The man writhed on the ground, holding his now-broken arm.
My sword was already swinging toward the shoulder of the second man. He barely raised his blade in time to deflect mine, but managed to block it and my next two swings. My third struck true, though, and cut deeply into his leg. He yelled and staggered to his knees. I hit the side of his head with the hilt of my sword, knocking him unconscious, then kicked his sword away.
Chiara had stopped screaming. My breaths were too loud, the sun too hot. Luc skidded into view in a cloud of dust.
“I should run you through right now.” Enzo’s threat came with a menace that I’d never heard in his voice before. He stood by Chiara with his sword drawn, gold cuff glinting in the sun, the tip of his blade at the throat of his sister’s attacker. Chiara held on to Enzo’s free arm, keeping him between herself and the other man.
Fog seeped back into my mind as my heartbeat tripped and raced, unwilling to settle into a normal rhythm. A bird’s sharp trill pierced the air above, and for one awful moment, I thought I was back in the Wild. Something was wrong.
My hands trembled. The world tilted, and a half-done braid fell over my shoulder. My sword clattered to the ground, and all I could think was that Master Hafa would have my hide for losing my weapon. Luc’s hand on my elbow steadied me.
“Aleinn? Are you injured?” Enzo asked in a too-loud voice.
I shook my head, and the motion sent the ground heaving. “No.”
I pulled my arm from Luc’s grasp, leaned away, and vomited into the bushes.
“I told you the maze gardens were a bad idea,” Luc grumbled.
The acrid smell made my nose burn, and I scooted away from the hedge and lay on the ground.
Palace guards arrived then. They pulled the man beneath Enzo’s sword to his feet and dragged him, and his unconscious companion, toward the palace. The man was moaning and holding his broken arm, but Enzo instructed the guards to take them both to the dungeon before seeing a healer.
Enzo approached me—with Chiara still cowering next to him—and picked up my sword. His thumb brushed over the leather strands covering the gem in the cross guard. But I couldn’t find the energy to stop him.
He knelt and slid my sword into its sheath at my hip.
“Please don’t carry me again,” I whispered. “I think I’d rather just stay here and sleep in this wretched heat.”
He smiled and looked at Chiara, who sighed with relief.
“Let’s get you up. We’ll just…help you walk.” Enzo took my hands and pulled me to standing, and the momentum carried me too close to him. I swayed for a moment with my hands in his, and a soft breeze pulled at several loose strands of my hair.
He brushed the strands away from my face, his hand feathering over my cheek. I leaned into his touch with a soft sigh.
“Aleinn?”
I blinked slowly, like a butterfly priming for its first flight. My thoughts jumbled around, and my hair—
My hair! I stepped away on shaky legs and started fixing my braid.
Enzo raised his hand like he would reach toward me, but turned to his sister and Luc and cleared his throat. “Come on. Let’s help her back to the palace, where she can be sick in peace.”
* * *
It took ages, with me stumbling between them, but we eventually made it. Chiara’s room happened to be on the third floor. Three miserable sets of stairs to climb. But once we made it to Chiara’s room, Luc stationed himself in the hall, and I collapsed on the floor just inside the door.
“Leinn? Come lie on my bed, it will be much more comfortable.” Chiara touched my shoulder, but the cool tile felt good against my flushed skin.
“No. I…I’m…This is good. Don’t worry about me.”
Enzo must have noticed our informality, but he didn’t comment on it. His jaw had been set since the garden.
The door flew open, and Queen Cora burst into the room, leaving her attendants in the hall. Word always spread quickly in a palace, whether you wanted it to or not.
“Chiara? Darling, are you okay? What happened?” She gathered her daughter into her arms and sat with her on the bed. Chiara burst into tears.
A fresh wave of nausea rolled over me, and I groaned and draped an arm over my mouth. Enzo stood halfway between his family and me, and his fists clenched and unclenched as he took stock of the situation.
He straightened his vest with a deep breath. “Okay, Chiara, can you tell us what happened?”
She sniffed and wiped her nose on her handkerchief. I stretched until I could kick the open door closed. Chiara didn’t need any more rumors spreading than what I’m sure had already been started. Enzo’s warm gaze found mine, and he nodded his thanks.
Chiara took a deep breath, and her mother pulled her closer. “Last night, Lord Sennor invited me to walk in the gardens today. I didn’t want to offend him, so I agreed and—”
“I don’t recognize the name. Where are his holdings?” asked Enzo.
She swallowed. “He is from Riiga. A visitor staying with Ambassador Koranth.”
The prince growled and started pacing.
“Enzo,” their mother said in a calming voice. “If Riiga is involved, we had best talk to your father about all of this before we make any hasty decisions.”
The queen held Chiara tight, stroking her hair and letting her cry on her shoulder, tears dripping onto the queen’s finery. I pressed my cheek harder into the cool stone.
“I asked Aleinn to accompany me,” Chiara continued. “We were all to meet in the garden, and I tried to stall as long as I could, but Aleinn hadn’t arrived and Lord Sennor grew impatient for our walk to begin. Nothing was amiss until he pulled us into that alcove in the maze garden. He grabbed my wrist and tried to kiss me and…” She put her face down, and her cheeks flushed.
Anger boiled inside me, but Enzo looked like he was about to fly out the door and break Sennor’s other arm before I had the chance.
Queen Cora took her daughter by the shoulders. “Chiara, listen to me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are not responsible for the reprehensible behavior of someone else.” Her mother, though soft-spoken, defended her fiercely.
Chiara sniffed. “I cried out for help, thinking someone would be nearby, but Lord Sennor overpowered me. I tried to fight back, but he was too strong.” She wiped her nose again. “That was when Leinn appeared out of nowhere and tackled him. Then Enzo was there, and I…I don’t really remember much beyond that.”
“Where was your guard?” Enzo asked, pacing back and forth.
She gulped and shrugged. “He begged me to let him have the night off last night, so I let him. And…he never returned this morning.”
Enzo turned to me. “Why didn’t you meet her?” he demanded. “Did you drink too much last night?”
My arms were shaking, but I raised myself to sit against the wall. “I don’t—” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get my thoughts in the right order. “No. Only the tea.”
My heart paused for a beat, then thumped hard and started racing like a jackrabbit being chased by a wolf. The blood drained out of my cheeks, and I lay on my side while my heart found its rhythm again. I combed through my memory, trying to find anything out of the ordinary, any reason my head would be pounding and my heart tripping.
Queen Cora spoke up from where she held Chiara. “Enzo, send for Yesilia, please.”
Enzo stood stunned before making his way to the door. He sent one of his mother’s attendants for the healer, then knelt by me. “Are you sick, then?”
I shook my head, then squeezed my eyes shut when the world kept spinning. Moments—or was it minutes?—passed before I could form words again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Chiara. I’m sorry you—”
Yesilia burst into the room so fast the door would have hit my crumpled form had Enzo not put his hand out to stop it.
“Where is she? Is she alive?” Yesilia asked, breathless.
“Chiara’s fine, Grandmother,” Enzo said, but Yesilia dashed to my aid, falling to her knees quickly for someone so old.
She took my face in her hands, lifted my eyelids, listened to my heart.
“Yesilia, what—” Cora started, but Yesilia shushed her. She shushed the queen.
I groaned, and Yesilia snapped, “You be quiet, too.” I laid my head on the tile while her ear was pressed to my chest.
She sat back on her heels and tapped my forehead. “You are lucky you aren’t dead.”
Another wave of prickling nausea hit, and I clutched my stomach. “I don’t feel lucky.”
“What do you mean?” Enzo asked. He helped Yesilia to her feet. “What’s going on?”
Yesilia’s eyebrows arched higher than I’d ever seen them. “You could say that.” She folded her arms and stared me down. “The cup by her bed, the one I always leave for her, had nightshade in it.”
Enzo went perfectly still.
“Is that bad?” I asked weakly.
He ran both hands through his hair. “It’s a poison. If you eat it, there’s no antidote.”
Chiara whimpered. “What do you mean? Is Leinn going to die?”
Yesilia put her hands on her hips. “She should be dead already. She must not have had a very strong dose,” she said, eyes narrowed. “Have you vomited yet?”
“Yes,” I groaned.
She nodded once. “Then there’s a chance you’ll recover, though it might not be pleasant.”
“Bring her here, on the bed, where she can rest,” Queen Cora said, patting a space behind her and Chiara.
Enzo eased me up, and he and Yesilia helped me onto the soft peach silk. Yesilia slipped off my boots, and the knife tumbled onto the floor. She shook her head, muttering about Hálendians, and tucked it back in.
“You stay here,” Enzo said, pointing at Chiara. “I’ll post guards at the door.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “And, Leinn, don’t you leave, either.”
“But—” Chiara started to protest.
“Chiara, I need you to look after Aleinn. And, Aleinn, even drugged, you could handle anyone who comes after my sister.”
I only had energy to nod.
“Someone in this palace is trying to cause trouble. I’m going to find out who and why. Until then, both of you stay in this room.”
He stalked into the hall, startling his mother’s attendants, and I let Chiara and her mother and Yesilia fuss over me, glad to let someone else shoulder the burden for once.
* * *
“You should be dead,” Yesilia whispered once we were alone. The queen had gone to find the king, and Chiara said she wanted a nice hot bath to wash Sennor’s unwanted touch away.
“But you said—”
She cut me off. “I know what I said. But there were enough remnants of nightshade in your cup to kill a full
-grown man even after however much you drank. And the poison’s been in your system since you fell asleep.” She tapped my forehead again with her bony finger. “You should be dead.”
I sat up and swallowed water that Yesilia had drawn herself. If I wasn’t dead—and I didn’t think I was—what had protected me from the nightshade? Could she mean…Had it been my magic? Was it capable of stitching me back together, even without my knowing I’d been poisoned?
She leaned closer, her minty breath filling the air. “Listen, child. I’m not asking you to reveal your secrets. But I am telling you that someone tried to kill you last night.”
Glaciers. It wasn’t the mage—he’d not be subtle about it. So who had tried to assassinate me this time, the second attempt on my life in under a month? And what would they do if they found out I’d drunk the poison they’d left yet didn’t die?
King Marko’s voice sounded from the hall, ordering the guards to let him in. He burst through the door, accompanied by Enzo. I sat up and scrubbed my hands over my face, wishing I had my scarf to hold back my messy braid.
Enzo pulled up a chair, and Chiara came in from the bathing room and hugged her father, then settled on the edge of her bed with her feet tucked under her. King Marko stood, a hand on her shoulder, like he was ready for battle.
“The good news,” King Marko said, “is that Lord Sennor was under the impression that you, Chiara, had encouraged his advances.”
“What?” the princess squeaked. “I would never encourage that type of behavior. And how is that good news?”
I put my hands behind my head. “It could mean he was being fed false information by someone else,” I said.
If that were the case, there should theoretically be a trail to follow. But it would also mean a lot of planning and preparation had gone into Sennor’s meeting with Chiara, and that we were dealing with a threat more integrated into the palace’s network than I would have ever thought possible.
But what were they after? And more importantly, who else in the guard couldn’t be trusted?
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