by M. A. Larson
“A pleasure, Your Serene and Exalted Majesty,” said Evie, dipping into a curtsy. This was something her friends had taught her the previous year, after she’d revealed that she had been raised by dragons. The girls in the third class had grown up knowing how to curtsy, even the lowborn. Even Basil knew how to curtsy. But not Evie. So they had practiced with her, helping her master the technique until she could do it effortlessly.
“Evie’s the one I’ve been telling you about, Mum—”
“No sign of the embroidered hennin, Majesty, only the plain ones,” said another servant, holding two long, pointed hats in her hands. Each had a ribbon of silk dangling from the top.
“Impossible. Look again.”
The servant dipped her head and ran off.
“Mother, Evie’s the one I told you about. Remember?”
“I’m sorry, Demetra, I simply don’t have time to memorize all of your little friends.”
Demetra gave Evie an embarrassed look. “Mother, it was Evie who discovered the witch. She saved my life—”
“No! I specifically asked for the thirty-two-inch trunks, not the twenty-eights! Take it all out and start again!”
“Yes, Majesty.”
“The one who saved your life . . .” said the Queen, distracted. Then, as though realizing what she’d said, “The one who saved your life? This is . . . Evie, is it?”
“Yes, Your Serene and Exalted Majesty,” said Evie, curtsying again.
“The Warrior Princess.” Now the Queen looked at Evie for the first time, studying her.
Evie blushed. So the idea that she could be the Warrior Princess had made it as far as the Blackmarsh. It embarrassed her, but she didn’t dare contradict the Queen.
“You are quite wet, aren’t you? Miriam, dry clothes! I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my daughter’s life.”
“I didn’t save her, she saved me, Your Serene and Exalted—”
“Evie, stop,” said Demetra.
“Sorry. Just ‘Your Majesty,’ right? Anyway, if Demetra hadn’t pushed me out of the way of the witch’s spell, it would have gotten me.”
“Oh! That reminds me!” Demetra exclaimed. She untied her belt and unlaced her dress. She lifted it to reveal her underclothes, then pulled them aside at the hip.
“Demetra! Where is your decorum?” sighed the Queen. “Ugh!” She shook her head with disgust and went off to chastise another of her servants.
Evie’s eyes were fixed on Demetra’s bare skin, or, rather, the sizable chunk of ice that seemed to be embedded inside it. “Is that . . . ?”
“It’s ice,” said Demetra happily. “Remember how Maggie guessed that Hardcastle got me with an iceflesh spell? She was right. Go on, touch it.”
Evie reached out and placed a finger on the wound. It was as cold as, well, ice. The patch was about the size of an apple, frosty clear fading into Demetra’s skin.
“I’ve got to keep it covered or things end up sticking to it, like when you touch your tongue to an icicle.”
“Demetra! Enough!” called her mother.
Demetra rolled her eyes and shook her head, but laced her dress back up anyway. “Want to meet my sister?”
“Camilla isn’t here,” said the Queen, perking up at the mention of Demetra’s older sister. “She’s following a lead on a witch up the coast. That girl doesn’t know what to do with herself now that the witches have gone. She says she’ll be home before we leave tomorrow morning.”
“She’d better. Father hates nothing more than lateness—”
“Aldegaard? Aldegaard!” bellowed a voice from the doorway at the far end of the antechamber.
“Speak of the devil,” said Demetra.
“Aldegaard, where in blazes is my gold shield?” Demetra’s father charged into the room wearing only his breeches. He was a thick man, bulging in the middle like a water pitcher. “I sent it to be polished weeks ago! I’ll not turn up to Waldeck with a silver shield like some sort of common vagabond!”
“Yes, Majesty,” said one of the servants before ducking out of the room.
“Father!” called Demetra.
“Quiet, girl! I’ve got a shield emergency!”
“Father, this is my friend Evie.”
The King looked over with a scowl. He had the face of a young boy inflated into a man. “Who?”
“Evie. She saved me from the witch.”
He turned up his hands in annoyance.
“Her father was King Callahan?”
“Callahan! Well, strike me down.” He charged toward Evie like a bull, the servants diving out of his path. He loomed over her, taking her hand in his with a hard squeeze and shake. Evie cringed in pain. “Callahan was as fine a king as ever ruled in this land. It’s an honor to meet his daughter.”
“So it’s true. You knew my father.”
“Knew him! My dear, he and I used to hunt together! Put a bow in your hands and I could see a bit of him in you, though I daresay it seems you were fortunate to be blessed with your mother’s looks.” He barked out a laugh.
“No! Bring me a thirty-two instead! Don’t force it!” shrieked the Queen from across the room.
“Father, Evie’s come all the way from—”
“Quiet, girl! Young lady, King Callahan was a delight and a pleasure every time I saw him. I’m very pleased to meet you. Won’t you join us to Waldeck?”
“I’d be honored, Your Majesty.”
There was a crash, and a scream from the Queen. “Fool! Can’t anyone manage a simple trunk?”
“Aldegaard?” bellowed the King, storming away in his underclothes.
“I’m going to show Evie the gardens,” said Demetra. In the chaos of the room, no one seemed to particularly care. She shrugged and turned to Evie. “Let’s go.”
Once they’d made it back down the staircase, Demetra led Evie out a rear entrance and into the fresh air. They passed beneath a delicate gate of wrought iron and into yet another scene that left Evie stunned.
“Welcome to the Garden of the Dancing Princess. It’s my favorite place in all of the Blackmarsh.”
They were in a grove of trees unlike any Evie had ever seen. Rows upon rows of them, punctuated by iron benches, packed dirt footpaths, and intricately sculpted shrubbery. The trees, fluttering gently in the breeze, had leaves of silver, gold, and diamond.
“Are those . . . real?” said Evie with wonder.
“Mm-hmm. Come on!” She took Evie’s hand and led her down a footpath flanked by glimmering golden leaves. “My father paid a fortune to have them brought here.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Evie caressed one of the leaves with her fingertips. It had the same coarseness of any leaf, the same pliability, but it was made entirely of gold.
“I spend quite a lot of time out here. The kingdom where they’re from was just going to destroy them. Can you imagine?”
“That would be a crime.”
“Camilla and I pestered Father for weeks to bring them here until he finally agreed.” They passed other villagers, from members of court in finely detailed doublets and dresses to peasants and workmen in mud-stained frocks. All bowed their heads respectfully to Demetra as they passed, and all had an extra twinkle in their eye to see her. They turned at a fork in the path and entered a row of diamond trees. The leaves tinkled like music as Demetra ran her hand along a lower bough.
“Listen, Demetra, it’s really nice to see you and I hate to spoil this lovely day, but there’s something I’ve got to tell you. I’m afraid it isn’t very nice.”
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“It’s a bit difficult to explain. On my way here I stopped at an inn—”
“You were robbed, weren’t you? I’ve heard people always get robbed at inns.”
“No, I’m afraid it’s much wors
e than that. I was upstairs in my room when these three women burst into the place. They were dressed all in black, and they had these . . . fangs hanging from their necks.”
“What?”
“It was all very confusing, but they . . .” Evie sighed. She couldn’t think of a way to soften what had happened. “They killed the innkeeper’s wife. With swords.”
“Oh, Evie!” She took Evie’s hand. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, though they did come after me as well.”
“Who were they? Bandits?”
“No,” said Evie. “They were princesses.”
Demetra blinked several times, as though she couldn’t quite comprehend what Evie had said. “Princesses?”
“Yes. That’s what the innkeeper called them. And they knew Beatrice as well.”
“That can’t be right,” said Demetra, shaking her head. “Real princesses would never do something like that.”
“I don’t know how to explain it. But that’s what I saw.”
“Well, it’s over now,” said Demetra, putting a comforting hand on Evie’s shoulder. “You’re safe here. We’ll talk to Camilla about it tomorrow when she gets back, all right?”
“All right.”
“Oh, Evie, I’m so sorry. That’s really horrible. But don’t worry, Camilla knows everything about everything. She’ll be able to explain it.”
Evie nodded and took a deep breath. “You’re right. It is over.” She glanced around the shimmering garden, then gave Demetra a smile. “Come on, show me the silver ones.”
“They’re right over here. They’re my favorite in the wintertime.” The girls walked along the path and turned at the bend. There, rows of silver leaves twinkled in the sunlight as the wind shivered through them.
“So how is your sister, anyway?” said Evie as they walked on. “I’m quite eager to meet her.”
“How’s my sister? Well, she’s Camilla, isn’t she.”
Evie laughed. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m ready to be back at the Academy.” Now Demetra laughed as well. “I do love my sister, but she sort of sucks up all the air in the room until there’s not much left for anyone else. D’you know what I mean?”
“I think so.”
“Everyone’s so concerned with Camilla, Camilla, Camilla. It’s fine, I understand. She’s a great princess. I really do mean it when I say she knows everything about everything. But sometimes I’d like . . . well, I’d just like to get back to the Academy, really. And none of this takes my brother into account.”
“You have a brother? Where is he?”
“Who knows? Probably up a tower somewhere chucking stones at chickens. He’s only four, and an unholy terror. But he’s the future king, so everyone delights over every little thing he does.” She sat down on a bench and Evie sat next to her. “Enough about my family. I’ve spent the entire summer with them, but I haven’t seen you at all. What have you been up to?”
“Well,” said Evie, “I did a bit of fishing with my sister. Practiced with a sword I got in Waldeck. I don’t know, that’s about it, really.”
“What about Remington, did he write you?” asked Demetra with a smile.
“He didn’t, actually. I suppose he was busy at court, or—”
“That lazy git! I told him to write you!”
“You spoke to Remington?”
“He was here last week. His father brought him along to teach him about diplomacy or some such. I told him multiple times to write you, and he assured me he would.”
“He was here?”
“It’s quite annoying he didn’t write,” said Demetra. “He asked after you as soon as he’d arrived. He even found Anisette and asked her about you as well.”
Evie stared at the ground, where a shimmering diamond leaf sat in the dirt.
“What about Maggie? Have you heard from her?”
Evie shook her head, though her mind was still on Remington. He asked after me.
“Am I the only one who writes letters round here?”
Evie laughed. “I reckon you might be. Basil never wrote either.”
“Basil is excused,” said Demetra. “I saw him about a month ago as well. There’s a ball each summer where the kingdoms on the north of the bay get together with those on the south.”
“And how is he?”
“He said his brothers have been even more insufferable since he became a second-class princess cadet. He spends a lot of his time in the forest trying to avoid them.”
“Poor Basil.”
“I know. At least I have only two siblings to worry about. Could you imagine twenty-one?” Basil, the youngest of twenty-two boys, had been the only male princess cadet in Ironbone Company. He was very kindhearted, but also a bit awkward, and he always thought he knew more than he really did. Still, he was one of Evie’s very best friends, and she couldn’t wait to see him again. “So you didn’t write Remington either? What is wrong with you people?”
“I told you, I don’t know how to use those birds.”
“Parchment hawks couldn’t be simpler. I’ll teach you. Perhaps we can write Remington a letter tonight. I’ll even spray a bit of Camilla’s perfume on it.”
“I’m sure the hawk will like that.”
Demetra laughed as Evie blushed, and the two friends sat together in the Garden of the Dancing Princess until night fell and distant thunder began to roll across the bay, driving them back to the safety of the castle. It had felt so good to laugh and reminisce with her old friend that Evie had almost managed to shake the lingering feeling of dread at the memory of poor Marie and the flashing blades of the princesses in black.
Almost.
THE WIND WHISTLED past her face as she soared toward a cloud. She flapped her arms—no, wings. They were wings. She was a dragon, and she was flying. She pinned her wings back and dove for the top of the massive bloom of white. She closed her eyes as tiny ice crystals bounced off her bright green scales. She twirled through the heart of the cloud, her spirit soaring. Finally, she emerged back into the clear blue sky and her wings were gone.
She plummeted through the air as the ground raced toward her at a terrifying speed. Her arms felt like tiny sticks, powerless against the rush of wind. The ground was getting closer. Closer. Just as it was about to smash her to bits, she realized that there was a ring of people standing there watching. They wore black dresses and sharp wolf’s fangs around their necks. And all of them were smiling . . .
Her eyes popped open just as she fell off her perch. She landed on the edge of a polished oak table, upending it onto herself with a crash. A moment later, reality caught up with her. It had only been a dream. She was in a lavish bedchamber. There was a four-poster bed with a deep red coverlet. Chairs and tables. Paintings of nobility lining the walls. An iron chandelier hanging from the timber-framed ceiling. A small writing desk in a half-domed alcove with latticed windows that looked out at the thundering sea.
She had been crouched like a dragon atop two chairs with crushed velvet upholstery that had been pushed together, back-to-back, to create a perch. She stood and righted the table. Then, remembering that this magnificent chamber was Demetra’s bedroom, she chuckled and shook her head.
If only she could see the chunk of stone where I usually sleep.
She went through the door and into the antechamber, which was only slightly smaller than the dragon cave. “Hello?”
Demetra popped out from a cavernous clothes closet. “Ah, there you are. Here, this’ll look lovely on you.” She brought Evie a dress the color of a ripe plum with a golden braided belt and matching trim. “Yours is being laundered. It should be ready before we go. Come, put it on! There’s someone downstairs who can’t wait to see you.”
Evie dressed and followed Demetra up and down several spiral staircases until finally they arrived in
a wide tunnel leading to the feast hall. It was, as was everything in the Blackmarsh, enormous. Voices and clinking cutlery filled the room. Hundreds of candles lined the walls, illuminating ancient tapestries of knights battling dragons, or battling each other on horseback. The formal table ringed the room like a giant horseshoe, surrounded by high-backed chairs. Everything looked to be made of wood or fur or horn. The smells of steaming food made Evie’s stomach grumble.
The King sat at the center of the horseshoe, with the Queen to his right and another woman to his left. Her hair, the same shade of gold as Demetra’s and her mother’s, was pulled back into a braid with a delicate tiara resting on top. It had to be Princess Camilla.
“Oi, dragonbreath!” came a familiar voice. Evie turned and saw the smiling face of Anisette, one of the first friends she’d made at the Academy. Anisette had been discharged halfway through the first year after a fight with Malora, Evie’s stepsister, and had returned to the Blackmarsh to assist Princess Camilla.
“Anisette!” She ran to the small table set back against the wall where Anisette and some others were eating their breakfasts. They hugged. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you!”
“Me as well. How have you been?”
“So much better for being here. And you?”
“Oh, I’m having the bloody time of my life! After watching Camilla in action, I know I was never meant to be a princess. I seen her kill four witches with my own eyes. Four!”
“Incredible,” said Evie.
“Come, Demetra! We depart in fifteen minutes!” shouted the Queen.
“It’s all right, go on,” said Anisette. “We’ll have a proper catch-up next time.”
Evie turned to Demetra. “Can’t we eat here?”
“No, ma’am. You’re one of the highborn now,” said Anisette with a wink. “Degenerates and basebloods here, I’m afraid.”
“That’s right!” said an old man, raising his cup.
“I’ll see you next time, Eves.”
“Come on,” said Demetra, leading Evie up to the main table. They took the two open chairs facing the royal family.
