A Throne for Sisters (Book One)

by Morgan Rice

  She’s coming over to me? I assumed a girl that lovely would have a full dance card already.

  “Your Highness,” Sophia said as she reached him, curtseying because they’d taught the girls how to do that much at least at the House of the Unclaimed. “I hope you don’t mind me coming over like this.”

  Mind? Only if she’s going to start going on about how perfect the ball is. I hate how contrived these things are.

  “No, I don’t mind,” he said. “I’m sorry, I can’t guess who’s under that mask.”

  “Sophia of Meinhalt,” she said, remembering her false identity. “I’m sorry, I’m not very good at parties. I’m not sure what I should be doing.”

  “I’m not very good at them either,” Sebastian admitted.

  They’re meat markets.

  “You don’t have to hide from me,” Sophia said. “I can see you don’t like them much. Is it too many people looking for advantage in one place?” She paused. “I’m sorry, that was too forward of me. If you want me to go—”

  Sebastian reached out for her arm. “Please don’t. It’s refreshing to meet someone who is prepared to be honest about what’s happening here.”

  Sophia actually felt a little guilty about that, since she was more than aware that she was there under false pretenses. At the same time, she felt more of a connection to Sebastian as he stood next to her than to any of the others there. He felt real while so many of the others seemed like simple facades.

  The truth was that she liked him, and it seemed as though he liked her. Sophia could see his thoughts as clearly as fish at the bottom of a river. They were bright things, without the edge of cruelty to them that his brother’s had. More than that, she could see how he felt and thought when he looked at her.

  “Why did you come to the ball if you hate them so much?” Sophia asked. “I’d have thought a prince could choose not to.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “Maybe it works that way in Meinhalt. Here, it’s all duty. My mother wishes me to attend, and so I attend.”

  “She’s probably hoping you’ll meet a nice girl,” Sophia said. She looked around pointedly. “I’m sure there must be one somewhere.”

  She managed to get him to laugh with that.

  “I thought I just had,” Sebastian countered. He seemed to realize what he’d just said. “What about you, Sophia? Why are you at this ball?”

  Sophia found that she didn’t want to lie to him on that; at least, not any more than she had to.

  “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” she said, and Sebastian must have heard the sadness there. Obviously, he couldn’t know the reason for it, but even if he thought that this was about some foreign noble who’d had to run from the wars, the sympathy in his next words mattered.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up difficult subjects,” Sebastian said. He offered her his hand. “Would you like to dance?”

  Sophia took it, surprised to find that there was nothing she wanted more right then. “I’d like to.”

  They moved out toward the dance floor together. It occurred to Sophia then that there was one obvious problem with doing so.

  “I should probably warn you that I’m not the best dancer. I don’t even know the steps to all the dances here.”

  She saw Sebastian smile. “At least you have the excuse of a whole different set of court dances out in Meinhalt. I’m simply not very good, and I’ve had tutors tell me that, so it must be true.”

  Sophia put a hand on his arm. She knew firsthand what it was like to have cruel teachers. She doubted that any of the prince’s had beaten him, but there were ways to be cruel without ever laying a finger on someone.

  “That’s a horrible thing to say to someone,” she said. “I’m sure you dance better than you think.”

  “At the very least, we can learn together,” Sebastian said.

  For the first couple of steps of the new dance, Sophia faltered, not knowing what to do. Then the obvious occurred to her: there was a whole room full of people around her who did know the steps to the dance, and who would have to think about them in order to be able to execute them.

  She listened using her power, hoping that it would pick up everything she needed, using her eyes to catch the rest as she watched the rhythms of the other dancers. One girl a little way away seemed to be thinking her way through the steps with the concentration of someone who had been drilled in them by a dance tutor not too long ago.

  “You’re picking this up quickly,” Sebastian said as Sophia started to move.

  “You’re not doing too badly yourself,” she assured him.

  He wasn’t. In spite of his assertions that he couldn’t dance well, the only problem Sophia could see with Sebastian’s dancing was a kind of self-conscious stiffness. That seemed to come and go, depending on whether he remembered that people were watching him, so Sophia decided to distract him.

  “Tell me about yourself,” she said as they whirled among the other couples there.

  “What’s to tell?” Sebastian answered. “I’m the younger son of the dowager, technically lord of a minor duchy out in the west, and largely unimportant as far as the succession goes. I do whatever duty requires of me, which includes attending balls.”

  Sophia brushed her hand across his shoulder. “I’m glad you did. But I’m not interested in all that. I want to know about you. What makes you smile? What do you like most in the world? When you’re with friends, do they treat you like you’re still a prince, or are you just Sebastian to them?”

  Sebastian was quiet for so long that Sophia suspected that she’d gotten it wrong in spite of the advantages her powers gave her.

  “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I’m not sure if I have friends, not really. At best, I’ve always been the one on the edge of my brother’s social group. Faced with most of them, maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. In any case, my one job as a younger prince is not to be embarrassing. That’s easier if I avoid the kind of entanglements Rupert generates. And to be honest, books are more interesting than most of them.”

  Sophia held him a little closer. “It sounds lonely. I hope that I’m more interesting than a book, at least.”

  “A lot more interesting,” Sebastian said, and then seemed to realize what he’d said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…”

  Even if it’s true.

  “It’s all right,” Sophia said. She could see his embarrassment at overstepping, but her talent showed her how glad he was that she didn’t mind, and what he was starting to think every time he looked at her. It was strange, seeing the room seem to light up for someone just because Sophia was there.

  Sebastian looked as though he might be about to say something else, but another girl chose that moment to come up to them, her arm out as if to ask him to dance. Sophia could see how that would play out, with the prince passed from one lovely girl to another, completely forgetting about her.

  To her surprise, though, Sebastian took a step back from the girl.

  “Perhaps later,” he said, although he did it gently. “As you can see, I have a partner for this dance.”

  “I have my dance card—” the girl began, but Sophia was already dancing with Sebastian in the opposite direction.

  She needn’t have worried. Sebastian’s eyes were solely on her as they kept dancing. Sophia loved his voice as he talked about the things that excited him, not the petty wars most noblemen might have been interested in, but art and the world, the people of the city and the things he was able to do as a prince to make things better.

  “Of course,” he said, “it’s not like the days before the civil wars, when kings and queens could just do what they wanted. Now, everything goes through the Assembly of Nobles.”

  “Leaving you feeling as though you can’t do any good?” Sophia guessed.

  Sebastian nodded.

  “Ashton is a cruel city,” he said, “and the rest of the country isn’t much better. Worse, in some of the more lawless parts. It would be good t
o be able to help.”

  Sophia had always assumed that nobles just spat on those below them, not caring about how harsh their lives were. When it came to Sebastian, at least, it seemed that she was wrong.

  Even so, she didn’t want to tell him the truth about who she was. Right then, the moment felt too precious for that. It felt as fine spun as a cobweb, and as fragile. One wrong move and it might all fall apart.

  Sophia didn’t want it to fall apart. She liked Sebastian, and one look at his thoughts told her that he more than liked her. Right then, it felt as though she could stay and dance with him, talk with him, all night.

  So she did.

  She spun in Sebastian’s arms as another song played. She talked to him about life in the palace, about the places he’d seen and the people he’d spoken to. She drew out the parts of him that shone like diamonds in his thoughts, drawing him away from the mundane days and the pressures of court life.

  When it came to Sophia’s own life, she kept things as general as she could. She could admit to having a sister, but couldn’t tell him stories about their lives except in the vaguest of details, because that would have meant talking about the orphanage. She could only keep up with mentions of the latest news because she could lift the details from the prince’s mind. The best she could do was to steer the conversation back to Sebastian, or talk about things that wouldn’t give away where she’d come from, or what she’d done to get there.

  At some point in that, it simply seemed natural that she should kiss him. Sophia stepped back for a moment, then leaned in deliberately closer, ignoring the looks of some of the young noblewomen at the sides of the room. This wasn’t about them. It was about her, and Sebastian, and—

  When the clocks struck, the clamor of their bells cut through the music, and through whatever had bound Sophia to Sebastian all evening. The shock of it made them both glance away, and in that moment, whatever had been about to pull them into a kiss shattered.

  Sophia looked up to see some of those around the edges watching the two of them, talking in low tones. The younger women definitely didn’t look happy as they started to drift away, taking off their masks as they went.

  “Is the party done?” Sophia asked. “It… it doesn’t seem an hour since it started.”

  “Three,” Sebastian said, but only after a glance at a reflected clock face to confirm it. Sophia could see that the time had flown past for him as well. “It’s a strange feeling. Normally, these things seem to stretch out for an eternity.”

  “It must be the company,” Sophia said with a smile.

  “I think it probably is,” Sebastian said. He took off his mask then, and if Sophia’s heart hadn’t already been beating hard at the thought of him, it would have done then. He was handsomer than she’d thought, not plain and forgettable compared to his brother, as he’d seemed in the thoughts of so many others.

  “May I?” Sebastian asked, reaching up for her mask. “It’s bad luck to keep a mask on after the end of a masque, and they’ll think you don’t know our ways if you wear it back to your carriage.”

  Sophia felt a moment of fear then. Behind her mask, she was Sophia of Meinhalt, a stranger who couldn’t be identified. Without it… would she be enough?

  She felt Sebastian’s fingers as they delicately removed the half mask that she hid behind. He looked at her then, and Sophia could hear his thoughts as clearly as if he’d shouted them.

  Goddess, she is even more perfect than I could have believed! Is this… is this what love feels like?

  Sophia was asking herself the same question, and that brought a problem with it. Sophia tried to bury that as Sebastian started to walk her back out toward the front of the palace, gliding with her among the crowds of people.

  Sophia could see some of the girls there watching her with barely disguised hostility.

  Who is she? What is she doing here?

  Sophia could feel their anger at not being the ones on the prince’s arm, but right then, she only wanted to concentrate on Sebastian.

  “When will I see you again?” Sebastian asked.

  Sophia wasn’t sure what to say to that. How could she answer it, when the only reason she’d gotten in there at all was a lie? The great flaw in her plan gaped in front of her then: it gained her entrance to the palace once, but it gave her nothing beyond that. It showed her this world and then shut her off from it.

  Sebastian reached up to touch her face.

  “What is it?”

  Sophia hadn’t thought that her worry would show so clearly. She thought as quickly as she could.

  “The carriage awaiting me…” she began, trying so hard not to lie but knowing she had no choice, “…it will take me back to…”

  “The ship?” he offered, concern in his face. “Back home, across the sea?”

  She nodded, relieved he said it and that she didn’t have to utter the lie.

  “It would,” she said, “and yet…I have no home, not really,” she said. “My home is not what it was. It is all in ruins.” That part, at least, was easy to fake, as there was some truth in it. “I sailed across the waters to escape my home. I am loath to return. Especially so soon after meeting you.”

  She saw confusion cross Sebastian’s face, and then determination.

  “Stay here,” Sebastian said. “This is a palace. There are more guest rooms than I can count.”

  Sophia didn’t answer. She found that she didn’t want to lie to him more than she had to. That was a foolish thing, when every inch of her was a lie right then, but still, Sophia didn’t want to say the words.

  “You’re offering to let me stay?” she said. “Just like that?”

  Sophia could barely believe that. Sebastian filled the gap, and it turned out that he only needed two words to do it, holding out a hand to her as the last of the others filed from the hall.

  “Stay?” he asked again.

  Sophia reached out and took his waiting hand and, slowly, she smiled.

  “There is nothing I would love more,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kate winced as the blacksmith hammered a loop of chain closed around her wrist, anchoring her to the wrought iron fence. Kate tried to pull her hand free, but there was no give in the metal.

  There didn’t seem to be much give in the man who’d forged it, either. He seemed as strong as the iron he worked with, barrel-chested and powerful. His wife was narrow featured and worried looking.

  “That’s it, Thomas? You’re just going to leave her where she might get free?”

  “Easy, Winifred,” the smith said. “The girl won’t get free. I know my work.”

  His wife still didn’t seem convinced. She should have tried being where Kate was. Right then, it felt as though a vise was clamped around her wrist. She wanted to lash out, to fight, but the weapons she’d stolen were gone, and she couldn’t even get free.

  “She’s little better than an animal,” the woman said. “We should hand her over to a magistrate, Thomas, before she murders us all.”

  “She isn’t going to murder us,” the smith said, shaking his head at the drama of it all. “And if we hand her over to a magistrate, they’ll hang her. She’s barely more than a girl. Do you want to be responsible for her being hanged?”

  Fear crept into Kate at that thought. She’d known the risks of stealing while she’d done it, but knowing them was a different thing from the threat that her death might actually happen. She did her best to look as innocent and harmless as possible. Kate wasn’t sure that she was any good at it. It was the kind of thing Sophia had always been better at. Sometimes, in the orphanage, she’d been able to keep from being beaten just because the masked sisters there had liked her.

  Not very often, though. The House of the Unclaimed had been a harsh place, after all.

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said.

  “I hardly believe that,” the blacksmith’s wife snapped. “There’s a horse there that I doubt she came by honestly, and she was stealing we
apons. Why would a girl like this want weapons? What was she planning to do? Become a bandit?”

  What if they see the horse? What if they think we’re harboring a thief?

  Kate could see the woman’s fears were more about what would happen if they didn’t hand Kate over, rather than a real hatred of her.

  “I wasn’t going to be a bandit,” Kate said. “I was going to live free and hunt my food.”

  “Being a poacher is better?” Winifred demanded. “This is foolishness. Do what you want, Thomas, but I’m going back into the house.”

  She made good on her declaration, stalking back toward the main building. The smith watched her go, and Kate took the opportunity to try to escape again. It didn’t make any difference.

  “You might as well stop trying,” the smith said. “I forge my metal well.”

  “I could call out for help,” Kate said. “I could tell people that you kidnapped me, and you’re holding me here against my will.”

  She saw the big man spread his hands. “I would show them the broken window, the things you tried to steal. Then you would be looking at the magistrate.”

  Kate guessed that was true. The blacksmith was probably at the heart of the community in this small section of the city, while she was a girl who had appeared off the street. Then there was the horse, and the people who would know that she had stolen it.

  “That’s better,” Thomas said. “Maybe we can talk now. Who are you? Do you have a name?”

  “Kate,” she said. She found that she couldn’t look straight at him then. She actually felt ashamed by all this, and that was something Kate hadn’t thought she would feel.

  “Well, Kate, I’m Thomas.” His voice was kinder than Kate had expected. “Now, where have you come from?”

  Kate shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “It matters if you have a family looking for you. Parents.”

  Kate snorted at that idea. Her parents were long gone, lost in a night that… she shook her head. It refused to come to her even now. Sophia might know, but Sophia wasn’t there.

  “Which leaves several possibilities,” Thomas said. He grabbed at the leg of her stolen trousers, lifting it to reveal the tattoo that marked her as one of the Unclaimed. Kate squirmed away from his grip, but by then it was too late.