“Ready?” Edda asked, shoulders dropping from fatigue.
“Ready or not, it’s time.”
Kaldur followed me silently down to the crypt. I hoped it wouldn’t be my last goodbye as king, but I wouldn’t leave without saying farewell.
A tiny bouquet of white flowers sat atop my father’s tomb, and I halted, staring at it. Kaldur, who’d been checking behind every pillar and tomb, cleared his throat.
“While you were in the council room with Edda, I asked for these to be placed. It was my fault yours got trampled last night,” he said, scuffing his boot against the ground.
An emotion I couldn’t name squeezed my chest, tight but not uncomfortable. “Thank you. Would you…would you continue laying flowers? My father deserves to be remembered, but I can’t…”
Kaldur touched his fist to his shoulder and bowed. “It would be my honor, Your Majesty.” He took his position at the entrance of the crypt.
I hooked my foot around the stool in the alcove’s corner and sat, my elbows on my knees. I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.
It was a huge risk to leave. One I hoped my father would have approved of.
* * *
That night, when the castle had long since retired, I moved the table away from my door and eased out with my bags over my shoulder. Kaldur snored lightly, chin dropped to his chest as he sat in the hall.
I slipped a note onto his lap. Other than the apology for the herbs I’d slipped into his drink, the note read Go see the Tutor. Edda would explain.
She had probably assumed I would take Kaldur with me, but I needed him here. And, a tiny part of me whispered, I needed to be myself on the road. To remember, if I could, who Ren was.
Darkened hallways had never bothered me; now every shadow jumped and stretched unnaturally.
I ducked under the low archway leading into the kitchens. Cook was still there despite the late hour, along with a row of young girls and boys kneading dough for tomorrow and washing the endless stack of pots in a tub in the corner.
Cook startled when I bent and kissed her cheek, turning to me with wide eyes and swinging her spoon.
“Now, Prince, you know you can’t have any of this,” she scolded, drops of sauce flicking from the spoon. “It’s too late for a snack. You’ll be up all night.”
I reached around her and snatched a cold roll from the table. “It’s king now, actually.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but my voice hitched on king. My shoulders fell; her eyes dimmed in grief. I pulled her aside, away from the others working beside her. “I need supplies. For a journey.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I haven’t received any requests for something like that from the steward. How am I supposed to prepare for these things when I don’t know how many are going or how long or where or—”
“One,” I interrupted with a quick glance around to see who was listening. “One is going. Twelve days.”
Her jaw snapped shut. She put her fists to her sides and a cloud of fine brown flour puffed off her apron. “Majesty, I don’t think it’s safe—”
My fingers tightened around the strap digging into my shoulder. It was a risk coming here. Any of the kitchen staffers could talk. But if I went with permission of the council—unlikely as that permission would be—I’d expend all my focus protecting myself from my own guards.
“Please,” I whispered, despising the note of begging in my voice. If she wouldn’t give me food, I’d have to buy some in the city. And while I had a little money to bring with me, it wouldn’t be enough for the whole journey. Apparently, being king meant others held the purse strings for me. Something I’d change, once I returned home.
Cook nodded, her chins swaying. She set out a large square cloth, and she and the girl who’d brought the tray to my room started piling it with food I could travel with—breads, cheese, dried meat and fruit, nuts, even a few potatoes. Cook bent under the table and pulled a waterskin with instructions for the girl to fill it.
“Majesty, I don’t pretend to know what’s happening up top, but we hear things in the kitchen—”
I pulled air in slowly through my nose, but it didn’t help the crushing weight against my chest.
“And I just…” She trailed off with a worried frown. “Just, be safe, Your Majesty.”
She bowed with her fist to her shoulder, then pulled me into a hug. She squeezed me tight and sniffled into my chest.
I’d be covered in flour, but I didn’t care. My eyes fell shut and I squeezed her right back.
“Thank you,” I whispered into her wispy hair.
I made my way across the cold, dark field to the stables. The door creaked as I entered, but nothing inside moved. I brushed my hand against the rough wall, counting the doors until my horse’s stall.
“Your Majesty?” The voice was so quiet I barely heard it, yet it was made loud by the silence.
I squinted, hand on my sword. “Who goes there?”
A latch lifted and the shuttered window opened, letting light from the sliver of moon in. A boy stood before me. I swallowed. Aleinn’s brother.
“I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d go for a ride,” I said. When I’d returned from Turia, I’d awarded Aleinn’s family enough money from the treasury that they’d never have to work again. It wasn’t enough to cover the price their daughter had paid, dying in my sister’s place, but I wanted them to know I saw what she had done. I’d assumed her brother would return home since he no longer needed to work, yet here he stood, blocking my path.
“You shouldn’t ride at night,” he said, voice a little stronger now. “Horse could step wrong in the dark, lose a shoe.”
“I’ll be careful.” I moved to brush past him. He stepped to the side with me.
His throat bobbed, the moon casting just enough light for me to see the movement. “Will your guard carry your things, Your Majesty?” he asked with a nod to my pack.
I twisted the strap on my shoulder. “No one must know I’ve left. I believe I can trust you not to spread news of my departure?”
I’d expected him to grumble or put up opposition, but he nodded and said, “I’ll fetch your saddle,” then slipped into the shadows, toward the tack room.
My horse, Nótt, must have heard my voice, because he was awake when I opened his stall. He pushed his nose into my chest, knocking me back a step until I rubbed his soft head. “Hey, boy. Are you up for a long ride?”
He shook his head and bumped his nose into me again. I laughed and pulled an apple from my pocket. He ate it in one bite.
“How about now?” I asked, and this time he nodded. I rubbed him down, reveling in the contact, in his strength under my hands and his heat next to me. I smiled to myself in the dark. My horse. I’d forgotten to add Nótt to Edda’s list of those I trusted.
The boy finally returned with the tack, and we worked in the dark, cinching the saddle and attaching the bridle. When I moved to mount, he put his hand on my arm.
“Sire, I’m coming with you.”
He’d tried to sound brave, but I heard the waver in his voice. I shrugged out from under his hand. “No, you’re not.” I took Nótt’s reins and led him toward the door of the stables. But there, in the moonlight, another, smaller horse was already saddled.
The boy stepped in front of me. “You cannot go alone.” He looked down, and the next words were quiet, but they hit me hardest. “And if you’re going south, I want to see my sister’s grave.”
I closed my eyes and puffed out a breath. When Leland had returned, the sole survivor of the Gray Mage’s massacre, he’d roused an army against Turia, which had been blamed for the attack. As the army marched toward Turia’s border, they’d come across the site of the ambush and buried everyone along the side of the road. They’d said the ground had opened to allow it, that the graves had almost dug themselves.
&n
bsp; “All right, let’s go,” I said, and turned my horse. The boy was right—there were still mages loose on the Plateau, and he could be my runner if needed. No one would have to see me or know I’d passed through their land.
He scrambled onto his horse, and we plodded to the gate—I’d had Edda leave instructions for the guards to keep it open. Eventually, I’d have to address how easily we breached security, but tonight, I was glad for it.
Out here, the air smelled of spiced cider and golden leaves. Icy winds from the north chased behind us, pushing us through the city and into the rolling hills south. Moonlight bathed the grasses in silver light patched with shadows from the clouds.
“Will you remind me of your name?” I asked. I’d forgotten, though I’d been told it more than once. Exhaustion dulled my mind—I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept well.
“Adri, Your Majesty,” he said.
I shook my head. “As we’re trying to keep my identity secret, you’ll have to call me Ren.”
Adri shifted in his saddle, then nodded. “Ren,” he whispered, trying the name out.
Something loosened in me at hearing my name and not my title. “It takes twelve days to get to Turiana,” I said, pressing my knees to urge Nótt a little faster. “Think we can make it in ten?”
The boy chuckled, his grip loosening on the reins. “If anyone can, sire—Ren—it’d be us.”
I whooped in the night, and we raced south. With every hoofbeat, every minute we traveled, the Medallion’s heat eased against my skin.
Jenna would be there when I arrived. She’d always kept me centered, made sure I was on the right path. And she was the only person on the Plateau I trusted completely.
She would know what to do.
Chiara
Petitioner’s hour was almost complete, and though it usually lasted longer, the restrictions on who could enter the palace had kept it close to an actual hour. The sun’s golden light shone through the throne room’s tall windows, splashing everything with an ethereal glow.
My feet didn’t care for the glow—they ached from standing near the wall so long. In the shadows, avoiding the whispers that still followed me even though it had been over a week since my father left.
I probably deserved the whispers: my father had left for Riiga, and I hadn’t said goodbye.
My mother sat on the dais with Enzo, and my father’s advisors on chairs below the dais in front of them. Today, Jenna sat on the dais as well, a reminder that she would keep the peace between our kingdoms.
Those of the kingdom’s nobility who’d been trusted to attend mingled and chatted throughout the long room, keeping quiet enough to hear the petitioners. Even with the palace under construction and the mages’ whereabouts unknown, they looked for gossip.
I’d never particularly wanted to sit on the dais with my mother and father and brother—I’d rather get out and do the help than listen to complaints. Today, I wished a tiny bit that I could sit up there. Even if no one wanted or heeded my advice, it’d be better than trying to avoid the pitying looks.
The letter from Riiga I’d received this morning in my room hadn’t helped, either. I’d thought the message was from my father and torn it open eagerly.
I’m sorry for what happened in the garden during my visit—
The words marched through my mind again. I’d read the first line, then skipped to the end. When I saw Sennor’s name instead of my father’s, my stomach turned to stone and I crumpled the note and tossed it unread into the back of my desk drawer.
My mother had come directly after, telling me I’d hidden away long enough. She said it with a hug, so it stung less, but I’d still rather be anywhere but here.
I kept my shoulders back, chin up, hands lightly clasped in front of me, serene smile firmly in place. Eventually, everyone would go back to ignoring me.
I wished the boy in front of me would. He’d been whispering about the worms he was experimenting with in his family’s gardens for at least ten minutes in a misguided attempt to woo me. But he was keeping me from standing alone, so I listened patiently about the worms, holding back a shiver. Best of all, he wasn’t handsome in the least. I’d had my fill of handsome, arrogant men.
A hand gripped my arm, tugging me to the side, and then an arm looped through mine. I stiffened, remembering a different hand, a different place, but shook the thought away and cursed the letter in my desk for dredging up unwanted memories.
This grip, though still unwanted, belonged to Cynthia Hallen. Her nose was stuck into the air so high I could see up her nostrils. It had been that way ever since my brother rejected her.
“Miss Hallen, how nice of you to make the trip to the palace,” I said, proud that my voice didn’t drip with sarcasm or betray my unease.
Cynthia’s lips pursed into a smile—grimace?—and she bowed her head to the boy in front of us. “You’ll excuse us?”
The boy, mouth hanging open midsentence, nodded, turned on his heel, and immediately found some other girl to share his exploits with. I almost wished he had refused and kept me here. Worms were better company than Cynthia.
She didn’t speak as she led me arm in arm along the side of the throne room. Her nails dug through my blouse and into my skin, and though I understood her purpose almost immediately, I waited until we’d gone the length of the room to stop her.
I extricated my arm from hers. “Using my standing to scrape up a little higher? Isn’t that low, even for you?” I asked quietly. We stood near enough the door that a slight draft from the hallway carried in wafts scented with burning wood and freshly turned earth.
Cynthia’s pleasant expression didn’t slip. “Took you long enough to figure that out,” she whispered. Others in attendance took notice of us, but not many. Not enough to boost her standing.
For once, it was nice to be the invisible princess, because at least Cynthia couldn’t use me like she used everyone else. Like she’d tried to before Enzo had chosen Jenna.
She brushed her perfectly curled black hair over her shoulder. “I wanted to make a statement before I left, and I think I’ve done just that. I’d thank you, but it’s not like you did anything.”
Dozens of responses flitted through my head, each more cutting than the last. I ground my teeth and dug the toe of my slipper into the marble floor—a habit I’d developed once I realized my tutors couldn’t see it under my long court skirts and correct it. “You’re leaving? How delightful.”
Her eyes narrowed at the double meaning and she tilted her chin up. “Yes, I’m going to Riiga for King Janiis’s wedding. It will be quite the party, I’m told.”
She’d been invited? I wouldn’t trust the daughter of a traitor, no matter how much land she’d inherited. Why had Janiis invited her?
I was grateful for the hours of practice with my tutors, because my expression didn’t slip, didn’t betray me. All I could think of to say was “Oh?”
Cynthia’s amber eyes glowed. “I heard about the courtyard incident. Pity your father didn’t allow you to come. Think of the fun we could have had.”
Her words dripped with disdain and my neck heated up. I wanted to tell Cynthia she was only going because she was such an outcast in Turian society, she’d have to find a Riigan to marry, if one would have her. Or that she was leaving so late because she couldn’t afford to stay longer.
I wanted to say my father had good reasons for not allowing me to accompany him to Riiga, even if I didn’t know what those reasons were.
“You were asking about me?” I said instead. “How nice.”
Her upper lip curled and she rolled her eyes—a punishable offense in my tutors’ eyes. “This is why your father refused to let you come, you know,” she said with a careless shrug, though she aimed her words with deadly accuracy. “Any hint of conflict, and you bow before it.” She waved her fingers at so
meone she recognized across the room, then leaned in. “What a waste of a princess,” she murmured, then smiled as though we were the best of friends, dropped the barest of curtsies for the benefit of those watching our exchange, and floated away.
I counted the white knuckles on my hands, which still gripped each other. Once. Twice. Studied the view out the window without seeing it as I blinked away unshed tears. Cynthia’s words were always laced with barbs. I could usually brush them away, but today she’d hit her mark.
Because I was afraid she was right. No one noticed me. No one outside of my family really even cared. I was a waste of a princess. I swallowed hard.
If I could go back and stand up to her, lash out at her, would I?
I smoothed the front of my gown. No. I didn’t think I would.
Maybe I was weak.
The call was put out for any other petitioners, and the last came forward. It was another farmer speaking in favor of the pulley system that Janiis wanted to build, pleading for the king to give the land to construct it. Mother noted it and thanked him, and then the event was over. Finally.
My mother, Enzo, and Jenna stood and spoke with each other while the advisors congregated, waiting for them to come off the dais. By the vaguely panicked look on Jenna’s face, I’d wager it was something about the wedding. No hope they’d come down anytime soon, then.
A long table filled with a light repast for anyone in attendance was set up near the back of the room. I made my way over to it, my mind repeating the conversation with Cynthia again and again, coming up with scathing responses and putting her in her place. Words I’d never manage to say but that made me feel better anyway. It didn’t matter what I said, though. She was getting out, and I was stuck here. With all the reminders of the mages’ attacks, the dungeon escape, the maze garden.
Mari stood next to a tall stool, a plate resting atop it loaded with foods of all varieties—most of them were Enzo’s favorites or delicacies from Hálendi that Jenna had spoken of fondly.
Untethered Page 5
