by Marisa Mills
“I don’t recognize him,” I said immediately.
“Show Wynter the sigil we found,” Kit said.
A guard pulled away the man’s collar, revealing the bloodied mark over his clavicle. It was the same mark that had been on silver-toothed bandit who’d attacked us. I pulled back instinctively.
“So you recognize it?” Kit asked.
I hesitated. I wondered if the man had actually done anything wrong, or if just having this mark in common with a terrorist would be enough to condemn him.
“You can speak freely,” Kit said. “The guards will repeat nothing, not even to my father. They are loyal to me. And this man is presently unaware of anything around him. You need not fear any retaliation, Wynter.”
“I do recognize it,” I said, “but I don’t know anything else about it. What’s it do?”
“We’re not entirely sure ourselves,” Kit replied. “Both Nathanial and Markus have looked at it, though, and we suspect it’s… meant to cause pain of some kind.”
“Why would someone put that on themselves? Wouldn’t it hurt you?” I asked.
“Potentially,” Kit said, “but this man claims he was threatened and coerced into attacking a student. We found this in his pocket.” He pulled out a tightly rolled note and unfurled its message.
Death to the Rosewood Heir.
“Surely that’s Viviane?” I asked.
Kit shrugged. “We found him sneaking outside the girl’s dormitory, pretending to be a gardener. He admitted to being a mercenary, but as he tells it, he and his associates don’t—ah—accept work that harms women or children.”
Honor among thieves, Lucian said.
“We think they were threatened into taking this job, and the sigil used as insurance that they’d follow through. But soon after we started interrogating him, it flashed and the light just faded from his eyes.”
“He’s like a vegetable now,” a larger guard said, kicking his legs.
“We also found this,” Kit said, holding up a small knife. It looked like a miniature version of the Voracious Badger Delacroix had shown us. Kit jabbed it into the man’s leg, and the blade started to sparkle with green light as crimson blood filled the secret chamber.
“We think you were the target,” Kit said, stepping closer. I kept my eyes on the bloody knife he held loosely next to his thigh. “But we aren’t sure why. Is there any reason these rebels would be interested in your blood? As far as we could tell, you weren’t mentioned on the list. And a few months ago, nobody even knew you existed.”
I wondered suddenly how much Alexander had told his father about me. Celeste knew I was Nick’s daughter, but did the king? He didn’t seem to know at my trial. And even if most people had since learned I was officially a Rosewood, few knew the truth about the pendant, the chamber of demons powering Reverie, and that only my blood could get us in.
Only a few people knew the truth, Lucian said, and most of them were in that chamber with you. So the real question is, who told the rebels they needed your blood to open the chamber, and why do they want to open it?
“Did he tell you what he wanted with my blood?” I asked.
“No,” Kit replied, “but I’m going to find out. In the meantime, be on your guard. You should be safe inside the Academy’s walls, but I will assign guards to you whenever you need to leave.”
“And then…” I trailed off and let my gaze wander back to the man. “What will happen to him?”
“Wynter, these aren’t good men,” Kit said. “Even if they’re innocent in this particular crime, I’m sure they are guilty of many others.”
I bit my lip and nodded. Blood was streaming freely down the man’s leg, but his eyes were blank and unfocused. He was rugged and handsome, in his own way. For some reason, he reminded me a little of Sterling. I knew what it felt like to be forced into a life of crime, and then punished for the sins of another.
His clothes and boots were dirty, and I was glad he couldn’t see me, in my sparkling red dress and long black jacket. I crossed my arms, turning my back on the prisoner.
“I will see that they are given a fair trial before the gathered aristocracy. I’m not going to make an example of them as my father would have, and if these men can be bought for their skills, perhaps, I ought to invest in them on behalf of the Crown.”
That was more than I’d been given. Maybe Kit really was different.
Kit offered his arm, preparing to lead me out. A shout pierced the air as the prisoner dove suddenly towards the table where Kit had placed the knife. Lucian’s fire erupted around me as the man flicked his wrist against the chains, whipping the knife in my direction. But it was too late. I felt it glance my ribs, knocking the wind out of me, just before Kit shoved me out of the way. Two of the guards fired crossbows, and the shafts embedded into the man, one through his eye and the other through his heart. A third guard plunged his a dagger through the man’s neck, finishing him off. Drops of warm blood splattered my cheek when he removed the knife.
My legs were shaking and I gasped for air, stumbling towards the door. Kit followed me, pulling aside my coat to check my waist for damage, but there wasn’t even a small tear in the tight knots of the fabric.
“Get your hands off of her!” a voice shouted. Alexander cut through the grass towards us, flanked by his guards. He pulled up short when he saw the blood on my face, and nearly drew his blade. His eyes were red and wild, almost like he’d been crying.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “It’s not my blood. Kit just needed my help with something.”
“A prisoner got out of hand,” Kit said, hanging his head. “But he’s been dealt with.”
“You should never have put her in danger,” Alexander said. “And what the hell is she wearing, did you dress her like that?”
“She was like that when I found her,” Kit said, humor crinkling at the corner of his eyes. “Should I have asked the lady to undress first?” He stared at Alexander a moment later, his smile fading as he took in the black suit and polished shoes. Alexander often wore dark fabrics, but this outfit belonged at a mortuary. His suit looked like it had been carved out of a block of obsidian. A statue of grief. It reminded me of how Dorian dressed when I first met him, when he was mourning Amelia.
My face paled and I leaned towards him, placing a hand against his chest.
“What is it?” I asked. “What happened?”
Alexander’s eyes watered. He reached towards Kit, but his brother pushed him away, shaking his head.
“Guards just arrived from the palace with the news. The queen—our mother—is dead.”
Ten
I RAN BACK TO MY room in tears, the red dress trailing behind me like an angry tail. Alexander said it was so sudden, even the doctors were surprised. The poison must have leeched deep inside his mother. She couldn’t be saved. My chest was heaving with exertion as I raced up the stairs to the dorms. News was spreading quickly, and already some of the other students had changed into black out of respect. I, meanwhile, was flamboyantly in scarlet, almost as if I were celebrating the demise of the queen. A few boys even hooted as I passed, ruffling the skirts of my dress.
Safe in my room, I practically tore the dress off, stuffing it angrily in the trunk at the foot of my bed. I dove under the covers, still in my underwear, and pulled the blankets around me until I stopped shaking. Someone had just tried to murder me, and he’d been killed because of it. In my dark cocoon, I realized I’d smeared blood on my blankets and got up quickly, heading to the bathroom to scrub the red smears and drops of blood from my face. I’d never tried so hard to get clean, but the man’s blood felt like acid, burning away at me. And now the queen was dead, too.
I should have stayed to comfort Alexander, but there was an assembly in three hours to mourn the queen and everyone was supposed to find something suitable to wear. Already students were digging through their possessions, trading in their blue uniforms for coal black garments.<
br />
The queen’s family would wear black for a full year; the rest of us only had to wear it for a week. But with a sudden knot of dread, I realized I didn’t own a single black garment. When Dorian and I first met, he’d been wearing black out of mourning for his mother Amelia, so he’d agreed to buy me any other color. It seemed like a terrible oversight on his part, now.
When I came out of the bathroom, my cheeks glowing and my eyes red, it was quieter. Jessa turned towards me, already dressed in an elegant, black dress. I wondered how she felt about all this—being forced to mourn the wife of the man who was treating her parents as enemy spies.
I was too tired to be sad over the queen’s death. Worry about the poisonings had turned into a heavy dread, and while I felt badly for Alexander, I couldn’t bring myself to feel sorry for the king’s loss. A small, vindictive part of me even hoped that the king was feeling a small measure of the pain he’d caused me and Dorian, but I tapped it down.
“Can I borrow something of yours?” I asked awkwardly.
“Sure,” Jessa said. “It might be a little long on you, but it should be manageable.”
“You could try something of mine,” Viviane said, walking in.
I glanced at Viviane. She and I were about the same size, but most of Viviane’s dresses included very small waists, meant to accommodate her laced lingerie. I probably couldn’t make my waist that small no matter how hard I cinched my stays, and I wasn’t eager to bind myself so tightly when I was already having trouble breathing.
Jessa smoothed out a black satin gown, decorated with silk flowers and dainty lace, that formed a translucent layer over my collarbone and sleeves. I pulled it on, letting Jessa help me with the back. It was too long, and the hem dragged upon the ground, but it fit well enough. I glanced into the mirror, tugging at the soft fabric against my neck.
“If you write to Eleanor, I’m sure she’ll send you suitable clothes,” Viviane said. “Or you can send your clothes to the dyers. They’ll make it black for you.”
The thought of dying all my clothes black seemed like so much effort to make for a woman I barely knew. And what would I do after the mourning period, keep wearing black forever? My stomach twisted painfully at the thought. I didn’t actually mind the color, it was much more practical than the bright colors I was used to wearing in Reverie, but black seemed to attract calamity and heartbreak, and I didn’t want to project my misfortunes to gossipping mages.
“We’re almost out of time,” Jessa said. “If we want to make it to the assembly—”
“Can we just not go?” Viviane asked quietly, sitting on her bed.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “It’s Alexander’s mother.”
“The queen wasn’t close to any of us,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Why should we go to some ceremony honoring her memory? Plus it’s not like it’s the real funeral, that will be held at the palace, with her actual body, before they cremate her with fire. We’ll literally be stuck in a crowded ballroom for six hours, listening to a bunch of people talk about how wonderful Queen Apollonia was. Does that sound fun to you?”
I don’t think it’s supposed to be fun, Lucian said. Although your nobleman did mention dancing on graves.
“Why don’t we go—I don’t know—do something? We’ll get lunch or have a few drinks. I would prefer anything to this.”
There was a desperation in her eyes as she looked down at the dark fabric of her dress. She had a point. After attracting so much attention in my red dress, not even the thick folds of Jessa’s oversized garment would protect me from the whispers and gossip I’d probably face in the assembly. I’d probably be a distraction for the other students. Maybe it was better not to be there. Plus, Viviane and Jessa had both hardly said a word in days, each trapped in their own private anxieties.
“What do you think?” I asked Jessa, biting my lip.
Jessa furrowed her brow.
“Look,” Viviane said. “We’ve all had the worst month. You aren’t allowed to see your own parents. My uncle is off on a suicide mission for the king. Tatiana is being forced to practice blood magic. We deserve a break. For just a few hours, can’t we pretend we’re normal students with normal problems?”
“You’re right,” Jessa said, adjusting the black ribbons in her hair. “Let’s do it, Viv.” I was surprised she’d agreed so quickly, but there was something cathartic about going against what was expected of us, especially when we’d been so pressured to behave.
Viviane brightened. “Perfect,” she said. “I’ll go find Tati, and we’ll meet you by the rose gardens. We can use your sigil to sneak out, right, Wynter?”
I glanced at Jessa, trying to remember if she’d seen me use blood magic before. Both she and Tatiana knew about Lucian, but I wasn’t sure how they’d feel about the fact that I could go through walls.
“I’ll tell Alexander,” I said suddenly. “He should know we’re skipping the ceremony. It would be rude not to.”
“Fine,” Viviane rolled her eyes. “But how are you going to get around his guards?”
“I’m hoping the queen’s death is enough of a distraction that they aren’t paying too much attention. I’ll check the boys’ dorm first. The guards only stand outside the entrance.”
“Good luck,” Jessa said. “The boys dorms are in the east wing, above the study halls.”
We parted ways, Viviane and Jessa joining the throng of black that was headed into the general assembly room we’d used for announcements, while I cut across the grass towards Alexander’s dormitory. I hadn’t been to the area Jessa called the study halls. After climbing the curved staircase that swept around the entrance hall, I paused a moment to look at the private lounge full of leather couches, bookshelves and wide windows. A marble bust was above a smoldering fireplace, flanked by two tall bookshelves.
Looks like a fire hazard, Lucian said.
At the top of the stairs, there was only one door with four guards stations outside it. I walked quickly in the other direction, down a narrow corridor, trying to imagine the floor plan in my head. Finally, I found a small nook, ending in a deeply recessed window, and heard laughter through the thin walls. I cut my arm and drew Lucian’s sigil against the dark wallpaper.
“Wish me luck,” I said.
I slipped through the wall, startling a few boys near me. One of them even reached for a dagger, but it trembled in his hand. Several of them were half-dressed, and scrambled to cover themselves. With my long black dress and pale features, they probably thought I was a ghost.
But they hadn’t called for the guards or a professor yet. That was a good sign. I put on my best smile, then straightened and dusted off my skirts. “I’m looking for Alexander,” I said, trying my best to be charming. “You won’t tell anyone I’m here, will you?”
There was an exchanging of amused glances.
“Alexander!” someone called. “There’s a girl here for you!”
“How did you come through the wall?” another boy asked.
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
“Maybe I was here all the time and you’ve been too slow to recognize it,” I smirked. “Shall I tell you what I’ve seen?” The boys paled and backed away nervously.
Alexander came towards me, his blue eyes flashing against the luxurious dark fabric of his suit. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice hushed.
“The girls and I are sneaking out,” I said quietly. “I’m really sorry about your mother, but we just can’t handle a stuffy assemble right now. After what happened today… things just seem to keep getting worse. I know it’s reckless, and rude, but—”
Alexander grabbed me by the waist and pulled me towards him until his lips were on my mouth. I tensed at first, but then slowly melted against him, leaning up to kiss him deeper.
When we broke apart, Alexander glanced sheepishly around at the other boys in his dorm, most of whom were whispering and laugh
ing.
I guess grief really is an aphrodisiac, Lucian said.
“They’ll be talking about this for weeks, won’t they?” I asked. “Kissing a girl the day your mother died, and a Rosewood at that?” Viviane told me once that Alexander loved to be the center of attention.
“There are worse things,” he smirked. “Though I wish you were still wearing that red dress from earlier. I’d love to know how it feels… when I pull it off you.” He whispered this last bit in my ear, sending a tremor down my neck.
I gasped at his forwardness and pulled away, my cheeks blushing, but I knew this charming rogue persona was probably an act for his roommates.
“So you’re not mad?” I asked.
“I’m not mad,” he affirmed. Alexander’s eyes flashed with mischief, and his lips curled into a smile. “In fact, I’m going with you. We just have to find a way to lose the guards.”
I smiled, grabbing his wrist and pulling him through the wall after me. Once we were clear, I wiped the blood sigil with my sleeve so nobody else could follow us. Then we darted down the corridor, giggling as we escaped his armed escort and emerged into fresh air behind the school.
I felt light-headed by the time we reached the garden, where Viviane, Jessa, and Tatiana waited near a fountain of a nude woman surrounded by cherubs. It reminded me of a fairy tale Claribel had read to me once, but I couldn’t recall the details. We went to the outer gate that I’d climbed over last time, but glancing down at Jessa’s long dress and Viviane’s tight corset, it seemed easier to just go through. I wiped my fingers through the congealing blood on my arm and drew a final sigil. My stomach lurched, and Tatiana looked at my blood magic with a sort of raw horror, but she didn’t complain as we slipped through the bars to the other side. The ban on blood magic may have been lifted, but I shouldn’t get too comfortable.
