by Ruth Lauren
I turn around once more. “She can’t have disappeared. She must have gone somewhere.” I grab the tapestry, dragging the heavy material away from the wall. The panels behind it are dark wood, like the ones that lead to the other secret corridors. But still we can’t make anything move.
“Look,” says Sasha. She points at the palace on the city plan. The embroidery on the tapestry is black for the whole city, apart from the palace, which is copied in the bright colors of its onion domes. “I’ve heard Father mention this before, but I didn’t know where they were. You know the palace has …” She reaches up and presses the embroidery of the palace. A shifting sound comes from behind the tapestry. I smile, hope springing back up.
“Secret passageways,” she finishes.
When we lift the tapestry of the city this time, there’s a narrow corridor, dusty from lack of use. We hurry forward, keeping one hand to the wall. The air is thick and musty, and I stifle a sneeze. A scuffling sound comes from below us. Sasha clutches my arm, and we creep forward until we come to a flight of narrow wooden stairs.
Low light bleeds up them, leaving us in shadow at the top. I put my foot out onto the top step. It creaks when I lean my weight on it. I freeze, then pull back and try the second step down. It’s silent, so I sneak on and Sasha follows, stepping where I step.
Halfway down, the steps twist. We can’t go on without the risk of being seen. I crouch and peer into the murky half light. A small room opens out before me. At the far end is a door in dark shadow. The princess stands with her back to me, the hem of her white dress dusted with cobwebs.
I draw back against the step, barely breathing, and bring my face in close to Sasha’s ear. “Fetch Anatol and the queen. Bring them here. Run.” She slips away into the shadows, back to meet Anatol at the appointed place, leaving me to watch Anastasia. She’s kneeling in front of an open chest.
She reaches into the chest and slowly lifts something from it. I grip the step so hard it hurts. It’s the music box. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. The bottom is octagonal, burnished gold with etched filigree covering its surface. A golden key with tiny gold bows sticks out of the front. Sitting atop the base of the box is an egg, polished such a brilliant red that it almost glows. It’s studded down the center from top to bottom with diamonds that look pink. The music box has been right here in the palace in this dusty, dark room all along.
Anastasia looks over her shoulder, and I pinch my arms into my sides, trying to make myself as small as possible. I’m hidden in the shadows. She doesn’t see me. Instead, she rubs her thumb and fingers together and turns the key in the music box. The mechanism inside clicks as the key turns, and when she releases it, the egg twirls in a slow circle. It splits apart along the seam of diamonds as it spins. A tinkling clockwork tune plays slowly, filling the small space, and I sit, transfixed. It sounds like tiny bells made of ice are ringing the sweetest tune.
Inside, the egg is polished gold. A tiny matryoshka doll rises from the center, spinning in the opposite direction of the egg. I lean forward, and the step my feet rest on groans.
Anastasia’s head whips to the side. Her eyes wander as she listens. I draw back against the step, barely breathing. She pushes the little doll down, snaps the egg back together, and places the music box in the chest.
It’s still dark behind me. No sign of Sasha. My pulse pounds in my throat. The princess dusts down her dress and gathers her skirts, heading for the steps.
I leap to my feet with one last desperate glance at the tapestry.
Anastasia gasps as the movement catches her attention, but almost instantly her expression flits to anger. My face is hidden in shadow. All she can see is the embroidered tunic. “How dare you follow me here? I shall have your position.” She holds her head up, indignant.
“You shall have nothing at all,” I say. “I am not your servant.”
I place my hand on the stone wall to stop it from shaking and move down the steps into the light.
Her face changes with recognition, flashing with fear for a second. She clenches her jaw and regains her composure. “What is the meaning of this?” cries the princess, trying to step past me. “You escape from Tyur’ma only to come here?”
I block her way.
“So my pitiful brother was right. You still intend to prove your sister’s innocence. Much good it will do you when you’re arrested again and thrown in the dungeon. I don’t think we’ll be so lenient as to send you to Tyur’ma this time.”
“You won’t be able to send me anywhere once the queen finds out what you’ve done,” I say.
She smiles an arrogant, triumphant smile. “My mother will never believe you.” I clench my jaw tight as she laughs. “‘Mother, this unbalanced criminal broke into the palace and forced me to the hiding place where her thieving sister had hidden the music box.’” She clasps her hands over her heart dramatically. “‘I was so frightened, Mother.’”
“My sister. Is not. A thief.” I stand rigid on the stairs.
The princess takes a step back, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, but she is. Maybe she stole even more than the music box. Maybe I was just too kindhearted to say so at her trial. Of course, I’ll have to admit it all now that you’ve come back to steal the music box again and attack me while doing it. I’ll tell Mother and anyone else who cares to listen how it was just a pastry at first. Then a silver hairbrush or a gold locket. But that wasn’t enough for Sasha, was it? No, she had her eye on the music box. She’s always been a thief. A nasty little thief.”
I take a step into the room, my hands clenched at my sides. “She’s not, and you know it. I know you framed her. Anatol knows, and he’s—”
“Anatol? His name is Anatol now, is it? Not His Royal Highness? How nice for you. I hope you’ll all be very happy together when my mother banishes you. Or maybe she’ll decide to do something much worse to you and Sasha.”
My cheeks burn. I try not to let my anger loose, but it flares like the fire in the tower. “You could have killed your own brother. If he’d been in the tower when you had your spy burn it down, he’d be dead.”
“And if Natalia weren’t so useless, she would have brought your sister with her after you made your silly escape, and Sasha would be gone by now, and I wouldn’t have to deal with this tiresome mess.”
I’m so angry that I can’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. “How could you do that to Sasha? Why did it have to be her? She loved you.”
“Yes, and she loved my mother too. And Mother loved her. All she has to do is ask, and the queen of Demidova says yes. Not to her own daughter, of course. I’m only the girl who will run this country. I can’t be trusted to make decisions by myself. But Sasha? Sasha’s so wonderful, Sasha’s such a quick study, Sasha will make such a brilliant adviser. We won’t have to worry when Anastasia is on throne, because Sasha—”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I shout. “Don’t you dare even say her name!”
Anastasia draws herself up to her full height and leans into my face. “Her name will be worth nothing when I’m finished. You really should have stayed in Tyur’ma, Valor, because you are going to beg to go back there before today is over. Get out of my way.” She waves her hand imperiously in my face.
I stand my ground. “No.”
“You dare to defy me?” Her eyes flash, her nostrils flare, and then she brings back her hand. My fist clenches.
“Stop.”
It’s only one word, but the command is absolute. I spin around with my fist still clenched.
Queen Ana stands halfway down the steps.
CHAPTER 22
My hands drop to my sides.
The queen glides down the steps in a gown that sweeps the floor, a white wrap over her shoulders, diamonds and pearls at her throat and on her headdress. Her presence fills the tiny, dimly lit room. Prince Anatol appears behind her, his hair rumpled. Sasha is at his side, out of breath, her face flushed.
Princess Anastasia glares at me,
her headdress askew, braids spilling down onto her shoulders. She straightens her dress and stands side by side with her mother. The two of them regard me, the queen with an unreadable expression, the princess with gleeful malice. I’ve done exactly what she wanted. And ruined everything.
I make a clumsy bow to the queen, though it’s more of a slump than anything else. “Anatol, fetch my personal guards,” says the queen.
He opens his mouth to say something, but she turns her gaze on him and he bows and leaves.
The queen takes a deep breath, holding her hands gracefully in front of her. She looks down at Sasha, who has her tunic clenched in her hands. “Where is the music box?”
Sasha clears her throat, her gaze flitting to me. “I—I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
Princess Anastasia makes an outraged gasp. “Surely you don’t intend to continue this charade any further? Mother, these criminals—”
Queen Ana silences her daughter with one look, though when she turns away, the princess stares resentment at her through narrowed eyes.
“It’s here,” I say, stepping forward and swinging open the chest. “But, begging your pardon, Your Majesty, if you’ll permit me, I can explain everything. I—”
“Must we listen to these lies?” cries the princess. “This girl attacked me. Her sister is a thief, and she tried to kill Anatol.”
“Silence, Anastasia.” The ferocity in the queen’s voice makes me jump. “I heard every word you said not five minutes ago as this girl stood here and faced you in order to save her sister from an unjust fate and restore her family’s honor.”
The princess breathes hard, pink blotches rising up her neck and spreading across her face. “It was all lies, Mother. I was trying to provoke a confession from her. This one”—she points a shaking finger at Sasha—“is a thief and a liar. They’re plotting against me. Anatol too. It’s treason to plot against the queen.”
“But you are not the queen,” says Anatol, now returned with two guards who wear white sashes.
The queen smiles at him, sadness in her eyes. “No, she is not. And nor will she ever be.” She nods to the guards as though a great weight is upon her, and as they move to stand on either side of Anastasia, she looks at her daughter. “You are right. It is treason to plot against the queen.”
My sister stands, her hands still clenched in her servants’ tunic, her eyes glistening with tears. I want to make it all better, but I know I can’t, and I daren’t move.
“More than that,” the queen continues, her voice dipping, “think what you have done to this family—a family who served us well for many years. And for what?”
The defiance on the princess’s face shifts to desperation. “I saved their lives!” She looks at me. “Who do you think ordered that fire lit? You’d have died in that ice dome if it wasn’t for me. I would never have left Sasha in there.”
I open my mouth to tell her exactly what I think of what she’s done, but the queen speaks first.
“If what Anatol tells me about your plans to allyDemidova with Pyots’k is true, then you have placed us all in grave danger. Can you not see that, Anastasia? Allowing them to launch their warships from our ports benefits us only in the short term. What is the point in us being rich with their gold if they lose their war and a returning army from across the sea attacks us?”
The princess looks like a hunted animal, cornered and furious, feral in her anger. “Even now,” she says, her eyes flashing at Sasha, “you take her side over mine.”
“Especially now I take her side over yours,” says the queen. “You are in the wrong!”
The princess’s jaw is clamped tight, her lips pressed together so hard they’re white.
“Have you nothing more to say, Anastasia?” It’s painful to hear the queen’s voice, beseeching, angry, heartbroken. “Tell me what you have done.”
We all wait for an answer, but none comes.
The queen presses her hands together and pulls herself up straight with a visible effort. “If you won’t speak to me, you will be questioned like any other prisoner. I will know what you have agreed to and what plans may already be in place.” She turns to her guards. “Take her to the dungeon. Perhaps a little time alone will allow her to think about what she wishes to say.”
Sasha and I lock eyes as the princess is escorted from the dusty room and silence descends.
Slowly, I walk toward the chest, open the lid, and carefully lift out the music box. Its solid weight rests in my hands. It really is breathtaking—the colors so vivid, the detail so intricate. When I turn around, the queen stands, Anatol on one side, Sasha on the other.
I step forward and offer the music box to Queen Ana.
CHAPTER 23
I sit on the palace steps outside the great doors, looking across the gardens. Sasha sits on my left, Anatol on my right, his uniform and the sword at his side keeping him rigid. I pull my furs closer. The sky is white, the onion domes of the palace towering at our backs. The cobbled square beyond the gardens is filling up quickly. Queen Ana wasted no time in getting word to Lady Olegevna that the music box had been found, and only the morning after the confrontation in the secret room, the queen is keen to show her people that the treaty can be signed after all.
The new ceremony won’t have the ice sculptures the first one had—there’s no time to replicate them—but it will feature something much more important: the music box finally being returned to its rightful owner, and the alliance between Demidova and Magadanskya completed at last.
“Do you think your friends will come forward?” asks the prince. His hair has been slicked down, but already a curl at the front is threatening to break free. Notices have been put up around the city that Katia and Feliks are to be interviewed and possibly pardoned as part of the queen’s investigation into the running of Tyur’ma. Prince Anatol is heading the commission. Sasha can’t wait to tell Father that the reform he wanted is happening at last.
I smile. “Katia, maybe. Feliks? I don’t know.” Beyond the golden gates at the end of the palace gardens, across the cobbled square, a thriving market bustles once again with vendors hawking their wares. Smells of roasted chestnut and hot chocolate and baked potato mingle in the air. The noises and scents carry faintly to the three of us. I imagine Feliks, his pockets filled with stolen dates, grinning as he slips through the crowd.
“How is the queen?” I ask Anatol. I haven’t seen her since she pardoned us and sent for our parents to reinstate them as first huntswoman and adviser. She’s been busy organizing the events planned for today. “And the king?”
Anatol smiles in the same sad way his mother did yesterday in the secret room. “Their hearts are heavy, even though the realm will be safe once the peace treaty is signed. Mother says she will continue to rule for now. Maybe until I have a daughter who can take the crown.” He blushes bright red, and I study the veins in the marble step at my feet.
“Valor.” Sasha taps my arm, rising to her feet.
I stand too, joy pushing me up onto the tips of my toes to see better. At the edge of the market, two figures break into the cobbled square: a woman in gray furs and a man in a deep-blue cloak. They hurry across the square, making their way through the rapidly swelling crowd to the golden gates, where two of the Guard wait to admit them.
I look down at Anatol, and he smiles. “Go.”
I take Sasha’s hand and we run to meet our parents, our boots creaking on the new snow. My mother’s arms are already outstretched, her face bright and joyful and anguished and relieved all at once. She doesn’t know which one of us to look at first, but she’s drinking us both in with her eyes.
We’re pulled forward like two magnets to our parents, and then they both have their arms around us, the four of us locked tightly together, Father sobbing into my hair. I’m still holding on for all I’m worth when the music starts. It’s a grand marching band of brass instruments and drums out in the square, organized to announce the beginning of the new ceremony. We must take o
ur places, but as we move to the side of the gates to await the queen, we link hands, Sasha and I between our parents. I look up at my mother. She shakes her head in wonder, though her eyes shine with tears. “I am so proud of you, Valor.”
My throat goes tight and I can’t speak, but then the queen makes her appearance on the palace steps, Anatol and his father behind her. She leads a procession flanked by Guards, with four servants following Anatol, each carrying the handled corner of a glass case draped in gold cloth.
As the queen reaches us at the gates, her eyes land on me. She smiles, but something flits across her face—a fast-moving storm cloud. I move to her left side in a place of honor, as I’ve been instructed. Sasha takes her own place on the queen’s other side, and my parents step in behind the king and Prince Anatol.
Lady Olegevna awaits us at the fountain on horseback, as she did what seems like years ago now, to complete the peace treaty. I can’t help but glance at the tower I shot my crossbow from. The turret has been boarded up. I look to the queen. We keep moving, the crowd cheering as we approach the fountain, and Queen Ana speaks in a low voice without turning her head.
“Girls, there’s something I must tell you. I thought you should be the first to know.”
Her strained tone makes my heart kick up its pace.
“I received word minutes ago that Princess Anastasia is no longer in the dungeon.”
My sister draws in a sharp breath.
I’m just as shocked as she is. “I—I don’t—Where is she?”
We step up onto the wide stone rim of the fountain, the rear legs of the magnificent stone horse rising in front of me.
The queen shakes her head. “I do not know where or how it happened, or what she intends to do. But somehow, she has escaped without a trace.”
My stomach lurches, and I try to catch Sasha’s eye. But we’ve reached the far side of the fountain, the music has stopped, and the crowds are quieting for the queen to speak. I hardly hear what she says. Lady Olegevna’s horse’s hooves click on the cobbles as she dismounts and joins us on the fountain.
