To Best the Boys

by Mary Weber

  “Sorry,” she mutters, ducking low to tremble under the covers. “It’s frigid outside, and I barely slept a wink last night. Where’d you go? You abandoned me to everyone! Also, I tried one of your cakes in the kitchen—they’re lovely and still warm. Good job.”

  “I went to Sow’s pub.” I rub my eyes and wonder what the town looks like after last night.

  “Sow’s?” She frowns. “You left my party to hit up the pub? No wonder Vincent and his father went to check on you. You could’ve been hurt just from fraternizing with those boys! I heard there were riots! It’s all the men were talking about after you left.”

  “It was fine. Lute walked me home and—”

  “Lute?” She lifts her head and looks at me through the dark. “Lute Wilkes? Walked you home?”

  I don’t answer.

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  She scoffs and punches my arm. “Rhen Tellur, you’ve been sweet on Lute since age ten. And I saw you blush yesterday—so don’t ‘what?’ me. Does Vincent know?”

  “It’s not like that. He was just ensuring I got home safe. And it was for my parents’ sake, so I really don’t see how that’s Vincent’s business.”

  She laughs and falls into her gossipy tone. “Um, maybe because Vincent keeps hinting that he’s planning to court you? And because—as I mentioned before, you may recall—you’ve been pining for Lute since forever.”

  “I have not. We barely even speak.”

  “Did you honestly just lie to me? Because liars go to the underworld, and I’d hate for you to spend your eternity with Germaine and Rubin.” Seleni’s brown eyes stare at me, daring me to disagree again.

  Fine. I clear my throat. “He walked me home because he is nice. I may or may not find him enjoyable, but it’s a non-issue because he doesn’t feel the same.”

  She gives a soft squeal. “I knew you liked him! Although—” She swerves to me. “What about Vincent? I heard he tried to kiss you last night.”

  My tongue sours. “He did.”

  She giggles again, then utters a sigh. “A rich boy pursuing you, and yet your heart is for the poor one. That’s Tinning’s poetry right there, is what it is.” She puts a hand on her forehead. “I wish Beryll would try to kiss me. And then we could get married and—”

  I roll my eyes. Ew. “If this is what you came down at the crack of dawn to talk about, I’m kicking you out. And then I’m telling Beryll you stuff the top lip of your corset.”

  She launches up. “You wouldn’t! I’d die! Swear to me you won’t!”

  “Then keep your Beryll fantasies to yourself. Now what do you want?”

  Her mood sobers. “It’s about Beryll, actually. Rhen, I’m scared for him. That stuff Germaine and Rubin were saying in front of everyone—” She drops her voice. “I know the Labyrinth contest is as much a mind game as anything, but what if they were serious? What if they really are going to pull out the other players’ brains? You know—metaphorically?”

  “I suspect they’ll try.”

  “Wait, you think they are?” Her voice pitches as she shoves her face near mine. “Why? What do you know? Because when I brought it up to Beryll, he blew it off. But he’s nervous—you should’ve seen him playing darts with the group after you left. I thought someone was going to get impaled. And Beryll’s not like them, Rhen. He’s tender. If they do something, he’ll be the first to get injured, I just know it.”

  I’m glad it’s still dark so she can’t see my face. Poor Beryll. And yet—she probably should be worried. We all should. It’s not just Beryll who could get injured. It’s all of them. All of us. Including me.

  My thoughts stall.

  Me.

  Because I’ll be right there with them.

  Seleni pulls back and glares through the dim. “You’re not saying anything, which means you don’t think Beryll will be okay either!”

  I rub my face again and don’t know what to tell her. I need to make my cake deliveries and get back in time to prepare. I need to find man clothes. I need to figure out what Germaine might have in store, because she’s right—Germaine is an oaf and Beryll’s in trouble, just like me and Will and Sam. I choose my words carefully. “I don’t know what Germaine and Rubin are planning, but I overheard them talking of taking out the competition in a less-than-tasteful way.”

  She grabs my shoulder. “I knew it. What exactly did you hear?”

  “Nothing other than that. But we’ll warn them. Beryll and the others are smart—they’ll know what to do.” I squeeze her hand even as my mind races ahead to what we’ll need to look out for. How could Germaine target the contestants and Holm—but without Holm suspecting?

  Her throat makes a choking sound. “I despise Germaine and his friends.”

  “Me too. But it’ll be okay,” I promise. And I mean it.

  She keeps one hand in mine and falls quiet except for the nervous tapping of her fingers against her stomach. I listen and watch the room gradually lighten along with the dull, wet skies and set my thoughts toward preparations. Not only do I need boy clothing, I need a way to disguise my face. And is there anything I’m allowed to bring with me? I frown. Every year at least one person attempts to sneak in a blade or notes, and every year that person comes flying back out through the giant hedge to land in the crowd.

  Which begs the question of Germaine’s plans and what they’ll be able to use if they can’t take anything in.

  It also begs the question of whether the Labyrinth itself will recognize me as a girl and throw me out before I’ve gotten through the gates. Just like it recognizes other items that don’t belong.

  My gut tightens. I hadn’t thought of that. What if Holm has a way to tell?

  A burst of thunder rattles the window and makes me and Seleni both jump. I roll over to the glass pane to see how bad it’s coming down and whether the town got burnt to the ground last night. Nope. Everything looks the same, just a lot wetter.

  I sigh and sit up. I need to make my deliveries. I look at Sel. “I’m going to rush through my rounds and then I’ll be—”

  She puts a hand up. “Stop. What the stars? Turn your head.”

  I raise a brow and turn, only to hear her screech, “Rhen, your hair! What’d you do?”

  My hand goes up to touch the locks now barely longer than my ears. I forgot. I flip around as if I can hide it. “Nothing. I cut it, that’s all.”

  “You didn’t just cut it—you murdered it!”

  “Shh! Mum and Da will hear—”

  “But why?” she squeaks again, climbing onto her knees. “And what were you thinking? I mean, have you seen it? You look . . . you look . . .” Her horrified gaze moves from my hair to my face, then back to my hair. “Like a . . .”

  “Like a boy, I hope.”

  “What?” Her tone is now full volume.

  “Shh! Seleni, please! No one can know. Not even Mum and Da. At least not yet.”

  “Except they’re all going to know the second they see you!” She presses a hand to my forehead. “Are you ill? Did you swallow something? Look at me.”

  I pull away. “I’m not sick—I’m fine.”

  She sits back aghast and studies me. “I think you’d better explain. Thoroughly.”

  I take a breath, hold it—then let it out as fast as I can. But my voice still cracks. “Last night I tried to talk to the university and parliament men about my mum. Not only did they not care, Sel, they made it perfectly clear they won’t do anything.” I look down as my throat goes thick. “But my mum really isn’t doing well. She’s getting a lot worse a lot faster, and this week she’s having a hard time even moving from bed.”

  I stop before a sob slips out—except one already has, and it matches the strangled sound of the blasted rooster that’s resumed his crowing.

  “Oh, Rhen.” Seleni’s face falls with her voice. “But what about your latest cure? You said it was so promising.”

  “It was.” I wipe my thumb and forefinger over my eyes to
press away the threatening dampness, and don’t explain further lest I erupt in cursing or tears. I need to leave. To run. Hide. If I’m going to enter the competition, I can’t have this conversation. I need my emotions clear and focused.

  “Sooooo, what does that have to do with your hair?”

  I lick my lips. Then lick them again and try not to sound ridiculous. “I’ve decided to try and enter Mr. Holm’s scholarship contest today.”

  Her face scrunches up. “You’re what?”

  I strengthen my tone. “I’m entering Mr. Holm’s contest.”

  “The Labyrinth? Why? What for?”

  “Shh! For hull’s sakes, Sel—I’m entering to see if I can do it. And because I’m just as good as the boys at most things, so why not?” I push off the bed and head for my single, small wardrobe where I yank out a blouse a tad harder than necessary.

  “I mean, I may not have a good shot at winning, you know, but what if I did? Maybe it’d get people to listen to me and Da. Maybe they’d actually consider letting me in a university.”

  “But what about your parents? What’ll happen if you get caught? You could get court-martialed or something.”

  “I’m not breaking the law. I’m joining a private citizen’s event. If they allow me to play, whether they know it’s me or not, then it’s on them. I’ll be in and out, and I’ll do whatever my parents want. And for all I know, the Labyrinth won’t let me compete anyway.”

  She crosses her arms. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’m not jesting, Rhen. This is bizarre. Even for you.”

  “I cut my hair for it.”

  She acknowledges this fact with a nod and continues eyeing me from her spot on the bed. “Well then, you know this is the worst idea you’ve ever had, right? And no offense, but that’s saying a lot.”

  “I know.” I tug the blouse over my head.

  “It’s stupid.”

  “I know.”

  She stands up and swallows so loud I can’t tell if she’s choking back tears or vomit, but when I glance up there’s a small spark of fear in her eye as her shoulders straighten and her hand clenches.

  I frown. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? Because I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just tired of feeling like the way things are is the only way they can ever be.”

  She watches me pull on a bonnet that I know looks ridiculous but will keep people from wondering what’s underneath. A second later she walks over to my armoire where she tugs out clothes and starts to change into them, as she quietly says, “I’m not going to tell on you. Because I’m coming with you.”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll be back in a couple hours—we can talk more—”

  “Not just the deliveries, fool. I’m coming with you into the Labyrinth.”

  It’s my turn to slow, and turn, and stare. She’s jesting.

  Her expression is serious.

  I shake my head. “No way. If there are two of us, it’ll be easier to get caught. Plus, no offense, Sel, but this type of thing isn’t exactly your cup of tea.”

  “Says who?” She tugs on her stockings. “I’ve been involved in every episode you’ve gotten us into since birth, Rhen. And I’ve held my own in doing it. I may not be as scholarly, but I’ve got a lot more savvy than half the boys in there, and more intuition than you. And even if you don’t need either, Beryll will, because I’ll not have you looking after him for my sake. And I’m not about to have both my best friend and the future father of my children get their heads ripped off without me.”

  I stare at her.

  She’s dead serious.

  She slips on her shoes. “Of course, I’ll not cut my hair, but I’ll pin it tight and we’ll find me a kettle boy’s cap. Now . . .” She stops and looks up. “How do we get man clothes without drawing attention? Because if we try to steal from our fathers, we’ll get locked in our rooms until the contest’s over.”

  I squint at her and chew the inside of my cheek. This could be an okay idea, or it could be the worst one ever. I’m leaning toward the latter.

  She arcs a single brow. “I’ve made my decision, so stop acting like you have the right to make it for me. Now answer the daft question.”

  I ease back and, after a moment, give her a nod and half grin. “All right, fair enough. Except as far as the clothes go . . .” I shrug. “I was planning on hitting up the grave digger’s place to borrow some off a body.”

  She snorts. “Of course you were.” But because she is Seleni, she doesn’t even argue.

  We’re quiet as we load up the baskets of baked goods and slip out the door before Mum and Da can hear us.

  It’s pouring rain as Seleni and I make the deliveries—biscuits and scones to the regulars, Labyrinth cakes to those who can afford the extra splurge for a festival breakfast. At every house we visit, the upcoming party is all anyone wants to talk about. We listen as we shiver politely in front of their stoves or on their porch steps while water drips off our clothes in rivulets and puddles.

  “You going up to Holm Manor this evening, ladies?” the fathers ask.

  “Yes,” we say.

  “I hope you have something fancy to wear—I hear the party will be extravagant.” The wives smile. “Rumor has it, Mr. Holm brought down fruit and meats all the way from the Rhine Mountains. Maybe we’ll even have basilisk steaks.”

  “Basilisk meat is poison,” I politely say, because I think they should know in case they are ever offered some.

  “Any young men you specifically hope will win, Rhen?” the old cat biddies ask.

  “No.” Because Seleni and I aren’t men.

  By the time all the goods have been delivered, our clothes and hair are soaked to the skin and our flesh is frozen to the bone. We tug the baskets higher on our arms and duck down the alleys to the old Port church, then across the yard to the back, where Mrs. Mench claims her dead husband walks periodically. Which is unfortunate seeing as he went to the grave wearing nothing but his birthday suit, and that’s more trauma than anyone needs to see these days.

  Seleni and I step softly around the gravestones and up to the grave digger’s cottage located at the far end of the churchyard. I pull out the two cakes I saved, then knock on the narrow door. “I need two sets of boy clothes,” I say, when Old Timmy answers. I shove the cakes under his nose. “About my size, if you have them.”

  “Boy clothes?” He eyes me, then the cakes, then Seleni, before he nods and disappears. A minute later he returns and shoves the clothes into Seleni’s hands before he takes the cakes from mine. “Tell your da I hope your mum’s gettin’ better.”

  “Thanks,” is all I say, and then the door shuts and Seleni and I turn and hurry for my house.

  We’ve just put the baskets away and finished changing into party dresses for the festival—her into the dress she wore this morning that’s now dry from the oven, and me into her second hand-me-down I own, a yellow cotton that makes my eyes look gold. I’ve just topped it off with a hat that’s floppy enough to make my hair looked pinned up rather than cut, when Da comes through the door in a rush of cold air. He’s winded from head to foot and looking a bit wild, even as I note the rain has stopped. I pat the wide-brimmed hat set low on my head. “Everything all right there, Da?”

  “Fine, yes—just checking on the Strowe girl again.” He pulls off his coat. “How’s your mum?”

  I pause halfway to Mum’s room with a cup of steaming tea as if in explanation. He nods and follows me to their room, where he takes the tea and sets it onto her nightstand. “Rhen’s here to see you,” he says, and I frown because she can obviously see that.

  Mum smiles and lifts her head. She beckons me over to where she’s been looking out the window at the housetops that lead all the way down to the sea, where the sun is peeking through the dissipating rain clouds.

  “How you feeling?”

  She nods and pulls me into a weak hug, and I refuse to look at the blood spot still on
her pillow. Her hair and skin smell of lilac and illness and home, and it’s all I can do not to squeeze too tightly because the dread and grief are surging with the reminder of last night’s revelation that this is all going much quicker than it should, and I have just borrowed clothes from dead people, even as everything in me is screaming that death isn’t too far from our own door.

  I can feel her ribs and spine through her thick nightdress.

  I look down at her, and a sudden sense of shame at my Labyrinth scheme fills my throat. What am I thinking? This is where I should be. I’m needed here, with her, in what might be her last few days or weeks. And yet—I’d also give anything not to be here.

  I force a smile. “I’ll skip the festival and just stay here with you, Mum. Seleni can go, and—”

  “Come now, we’ll have none of that,” Da says from behind me. “You and Seleni will get ready and go enjoy yourselves. Your mum and I’ll be just fine here without you. Happier even without all the noise.” He winks. “We’ll both be here when you get back.”

  Ignoring him, I pull Mum tighter and rest my cheek against her warm one. “What do you want, Mum?”

  “I want you to be brave,” she whispers.

  “Of course. That’s not—”

  Her fingers find my arm and hold me in place, while her other hand lifts to pat my hat covering my head. Her cheek moves against mine into a weak smile, and she pats my head again and murmurs, “In the Labyrinth, I mean.”

  Every nerve ending goes numb.

  “I heard you and Seleni upstairs,” she says in my ear, in a voice too low for Da to hear. “And if you’re going in, then you do it bravely and show this world who you are. And when you’re done, you come back to me.”

  The next thing I know, she’s released me and shut her eyes and moved her head to the pillow. When I look up at Da, he gives a small, clueless nod. “Enjoy the party for the three of us, sweetie.”

  “But Mum—”

  She gives my hand a quick squeeze as if to say she may be weak but she’s still the person who birthed me, so I’d better obey.

  My tread is slow as I count the steps to the door, but I wait until I’ve left the room to let my throat choke and eyes well up. I wipe my cheeks with my wrist, straighten my shoulders, and turn to climb to the loft where Seleni will be.