She Dies at the End

by A. M. Manay

  “I will speak to her,” she promised. “She is a good girl. She won’t hop into a married man’s bed, king or no.”

  “She will do whatever her family tells her to do,” Silas countered. “But it may be that the king is in the mood for virtue these days.”

  Shiloh noticed a woman glaring daggers at them. “Who is that?” she whispered to Hatch.

  He followed her gaze. “Oh. Her. She was my mistress, once,” he confessed.

  “Oh!” she replied, a trifle shocked. “Well, she doesn’t look too happy with you.”

  “They never do,” he admitted. “They grow tired of me very quickly. I’m quite trying. Some of them hold a grudge.” Shiloh snickered.

  The song ended, and Shiloh turned to seek out her friend, only to be snatched up for a dance with Jaym, Lord Wheatley.

  “Shiloh, my marks came up so much my father gave me a sailing ship for Solstice!” he told her with great excitement. “All thanks to you. He knows it, too. Still thinks you’re a pip.”

  “That is wonderful, my lord,” she replied with a sincere smile. “I told you that you are more than capable of excelling at your studies.”

  When their dance was concluded, Shiloh was finally able to track down Penn. They grabbed two chairs along the wall and sat down, grateful for a break from the merriment. As a servant passed by, the two young women grabbed a tray of sweets.

  “Did you see Lady Hana, lording it over everyone with Kepler?” Penn asked.

  Shiloh laughed. “How could I miss it?”

  “Did you see the way the queen glowered at them?” Penn continued.

  “No, I missed that. Why would she glower? Not that she needs much reason,” Shiloh replied.

  Penn leaned in. “They were smitten, once upon a time, she and Lord Kepler. They were fostered at the same place, you see. Pledged their undying love in the nursery. But the bishops wouldn’t allow a match. Said she was aiming too high. Ha!”

  Shiloh shook her head. “And now she has the king, so why would she care? Did she expect Kepler to pine away his youth and never marry? He’s Lord of the Fist, for heaven’s sake. He needs an heir.”

  “You know how her grace is. Everyone must adore her, and her alone,” Penn replied, the wine loosening her tongue.

  “Speaking of the queen’s glares, the king keeps looking at you,” Shiloh warned her.

  “No, you must be mistaken,” Penn protested. “Me?”

  “You,” Shiloh insisted. “Be careful, Penn. Give her grace no cause to seek to do you harm.”

  “Of course, I would never presume . . .” Penn glanced in the direction of the dais and blushed. “You’re serious?” she asked her friend.

  “As the grave,” Shiloh replied.

  ***

  “You look thin,” Shiloh said, brow knit with worry. “Are they not giving you enough to eat, my lord?”

  Daved shook his head on the other side of the bars. “No, they feed me well. I’m simply not hungry.”

  She looked at him sadly. “I won’t be able to come see you for a while. They’re sending me on a trip. We leave tomorrow.”

  “It’s about time for the new princess to go to Fountain Bluff, isn’t it? They want you to protect her? Are they sending Lady Esta, too?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “They told me I’m not allowed to tell you where I’m going, or anything about it. Hatch’s orders.”

  Daved snorted. “As though I could get word out to anyone even if you did,” he scoffed. “And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the princess is now several months old, and that my father might go after her and Lady Esta. I’m sure he has men enough in the palace to know of any preparations. He doesn’t need me.”

  “I should be back in a few weeks,” she told him.

  “Hopefully I’ll still be breathing,” he replied morbidly. “I told them I’ll testify when they try my father. So I guess they’ll keep me around at least that long.”

  “Oh, my lord, I am so sorry to see you trapped like this,” Shiloh said softly.

  He smiled crookedly. “You’re probably the only one who is.”

  “Maybe this imprisonment is what will save you in the end. After all, no one can think you’re conspiring with your father from here. If he does something to tip his hand, no one can accuse you of being part of it. Perhaps you’re safer this way,” she suggested.

  “Safe enough to watch my father and brothers lose their heads, maybe,” he concluded with a snort. “When that is the best one can hope for, straits are a bit dire, don’t you think?”

  Chapter 14

  A Precarious Perch

  Shiloh had been led to a small room to rest and had promptly fallen asleep. When she woke, the girl who had greeted her led her deep into the convent, through a maze of narrow corridors and stairways carved into the mountain herself. They came to a bathing room filled with steam and soft voices.

  “You must have a ritual bath in order to enter the sanctum,” the girl explained. “I am called Bluebell. I will help you. After you see our lady, you may break your fast.”

  “Thank you,” Shiloh replied uncertainly.

  Bluebell helped her out of her clothes and guided her down some stairs into a deep pool that smelled of jasmine and honeysuckle. The water came up nearly to her shoulders. “You must submerge yourself for a count of ten,” the girl instructed. Shiloh obeyed, sinking into the hot water, feeling it wash away the grit from her skin and ease the aches from the climb. After a slow count of ten, she stood back up, water streaming from her pink braids.

  “Now, to the next bath,” Bluebell told her with a smile. Gamely, Shiloh climbed out and took a few steps to the next pool, a shallow dish more reminiscent of an ordinary bathtub. “Sit, and I will wash your hair,” Bluebell told her.

  Fighting her urge to argue, Shiloh obeyed. Gently, Bluebell unwound her braids and scrubbed her scalp. Once the fragrant soap had been rinsed away, Bluebell carefully combed out Shiloh’s curls. Shiloh could make out the other climbers from the previous day receiving similar treatment, obscured by the steam.

  As Bluebell worked, she spoke quietly. “Our lady has been waiting for you for some years. She has sent letters to your priest.”

  “Truly?” Shiloh replied, startled. She tried to turn to look at Bluebell, but the girl clucked at her and turned her head back so as to continue arranging Shiloh’s hair.

  “He put her off, citing your ill health,” Bluebell confided.

  “He never told me. He said I would come here someday, but not that I’d been invited,” Shiloh confessed.

  Bluebell laughed. “It was not an invitation. It was a command. But do not worry. She knows it was not your fault that you were delayed.”

  “Why does she want to see me?” Shiloh asked.

  “That is not for me to say,” Bluebell demurred. She poured a measure of oil into her palm and began working it through Shiloh’s hair.

  At last, clean and dry and wearing a simple blue tunic, Shiloh climbed the stairs at the other end of the ritual baths and exited into a sunny courtyard, Bluebell still by her side. Along the edges of the open space, brightly dyed awnings provided shade to oracles meeting with the other women she’d seen in the baths. Directly across from her, an imposing double door guarded the sanctum that housed the Lady of Mount Tarwin, the wisest of the oracles, who served as their mother superior.

  “It is time,” Bluebell told Shiloh.

  Bluebell pulled a blue glass bottle out of her robes. She removed the cork and handed the bottle to Shiloh. “Drink it,” the girl ordered, in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Shiloh took a deep breath and downed the bitter liquid. “What is it?” she asked belatedly. “I feel strange,” she added as the potion hit her empty stomach.

  Bluebell smiled. “Its purpose is to open your mind, to remove self-deception. Our lady requires her guests to partake of it. It prevents a lot of wasted time. Come along, now.”

 
Shiloh crossed the courtyard with Bluebell’s assistance, its cobbled stones suddenly slanted and treacherous beneath her feet as the drug took hold. The bright sunshine had become nearly blinding, and the sounds of conversation around her sounded as though they had passed through deep water before reaching her ears.

  It was a relief to enter the darkened sanctum, where the only sound came from a fountain in the center. She blessed herself with the holy water, tracing a circle on her forehead. Bluebell guided her to a cushion set on the floor before the central shrine depicting the entire Holy Family. An old woman sat on an adjacent cushion. Bluebell knelt for a blessing, then disappeared behind a curtain.

  “Shiloh. It is good to see you in the flesh at last,” the lady greeted her. “My name is Falcon. I have been dreaming of you for a long time.” Her voice sounded far stronger than her frail appearance had led Shiloh to expect.

  “Thank you for seeing me, my lady,” Shiloh replied, struggling to focus her eyes on the oracle.

  “Lean back and close your eyes, child,” Falcon instructed. The serum is disorienting the first time. I remember well.” Shiloh gratefully obeyed. “Why are you here, Shiloh?”

  “I . . . I want to know what I’m meant to do with my life, if I’m supposed to go to court, and to make sure I’m not going to be a monster. And I want to know what they’re hiding from me,” Shiloh answered, surprising herself, the words flying out before she even realized what she was saying. Her hand flew up to her mouth, and Falcon laughed.

  “The potion loosens the tongue. Loosens the thoughts as well. You have sensed that Edmun and Poll have deceived you about your origins. They intended to protect you. They also intended to protect themselves,” Falcon explained. “But, in the end, they brought you here, that you might learn the truth. Some of it, at least.”

  “What truth, my lady?” Shiloh asked, fear rising in her throat.

  Falcon tossed some herbs onto the fire burning in a brazier in front of them. She then rested her hands upon the top of Shiloh’s head and began to chant a wordless prayer. Shiloh floated on a bed of potion and incantation for what felt like an eternity before Falcon spoke in a voice much different than the one she had used to greet her pilgrim guest.

  “Fools think that evil begets evil, and good begets good, but two rivers of blood can join to create a stream of fresh water. Marked by a mother’s sin, cursed with a barren womb—you will, nevertheless, bring forth new life. The steel of the sword and ax and mace is forged instead into a wand bent to the task of creation, not destruction. You must wade in treacherous waters to reach a land of freedom. You must lie down with the wolves to rise up as a shepherd.”

  “I don’t understand,” Shiloh protested, her voice breaking.

  “You will. But take care. You will risk your breath to protect the crown’s blood. Snakes rise in the forest, hiding amongst the dead leaves. They would take all for themselves: wood and vineyard, field and mine. You must help find them. You must work to stop them, but you need not do it alone.”

  “But who? And how?”

  “You will see. Is there anything you would ask me, Shiloh?”

  Shiloh opened her eyes, full of fear and longing. “Who were my first parents?” she whispered. “What happened to them?”

  “They mixed together war and love. That is a dangerous brew,” Falcon replied. “The begat you upon a bed of thorns. But sin turned them cruel, and invited betrayal, by those who once warmed their hearts before those hearts turned to stone.”

  ***

  The procession was cheerful, despite the cloudy skies. It wasn’t every day that two princesses left Greenhill Palace for the Southlands. Spectators lined the roads all the way to the royal pier. The duke and duchess who governed the Southlands led them, followed by the royal guard, then the princesses in an open carriage, with their ladies and nurses. Behind them rode Silas and Shiloh, followed by more guardsmen.

  Shiloh felt more herself than she had in weeks. It was a relief to escape the queen’s apartments and her fancy gowns. She felt much more comfortable in her riding habit of deep green, and it was lovely to have her hair covered for once, hidden beneath a matching green travel bonnet with a wide brim. She kept her hook on the reins and her hand on her wand. She noticed Hatch did the same. After what had happened at Princess Loor’s dedication, no one felt complacent.

  As relieved as she felt to come to the pier without incident, her stomach turned over when she caught sight of the little fleet that would carry them southward. However, the king’s flag flew merrily, and musicians played their arrival, so it was hard not to smile in spite of her nerves, especially when she caught sight of Honey flying in circles over the crowd.

  Seeming to sense her mixed feelings, Silas offered a little reassurance. “It’s the large ship that will carry us, and Master Kiven says the weather shall be clear. The sailing should be smooth enough.”

  Shiloh nodded. “I brought some potions, just in case of seasickness,” she replied with a smile.

  A groom took her horse, and a steward helped her up the gangplank. She joined the ladies standing on the deck by the railing. They waved to the spectators while waiting for their departure. She rested her fingers lightly on her wand and silently cast another ward over the princesses, just to be on the safe side.

  Her ears caught the sound of grumbling, then raised voices. She turned to find a knot of sailors and officers around Master Hatch. Some cast hostile glances in her direction. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  “Women aboard ship is bad enough, sir!” one man said. “But a hexborn one? We’ll be doomed for sure!”

  The other women inched away from her. Shiloh sighed again.

  “If you’d like to share your misgivings with the king, feel free to do so. However, I do warn you that you might have to wait for an appointment. I’m sure we could accommodate you in the High Tower while you wait. Would that suit you?” Hatch asked coldly. “Dame Shiloh is a Knight of the Order of St. Stex, specially charged by the king to protect his daughters during this voyage. You’re simply going to have to put aside your superstitious nonsense and cast off.”

  Hatch turned decisively and left the men behind. To Shiloh’s relief, the crowd soon dispersed. She waved to get Hatch’s attention, and he crossed to stand at the rail with her.

  “Are they going to throw me overboard?” she asked.

  Hatch snorted. “I don’t think so.” He heaved a sigh. “I just hope Lady Esta hasn’t been conspiring. She may want Redwood’s men to take her, to plant her on the throne before she gets cut out of the line of succession entirely.”

  “I don’t know about that. Lady Esta loathes Queen Zina, but she worships her father. And she is devout. Redwood has been using Feralfolk, who reject the church entirely,” Shiloh pointed out. “Her mother’s death has left her grieving and frightened, I think. If she feels like someone is on her side, she might be more cooperative on the road.”

  “And that someone is you?” Hatch asked. “Because it is most assuredly not going to be me. She thinks I’m a monster. I’ll be lucky to keep my head if she ascends to the throne. She probably thinks I killed her mother.”

  “You didn’t, did you?” It slipped out before Shiloh could catch herself.

  “No, I did not,” Hatch replied with a long-suffering air, “much as I have been tempted.”

  “I can try to talk to her,” Shiloh offered.

  Hatch nodded. “Anything that can give us an edge on this fool’s errand is worth a try.”

  ***

  Jane appeared in the door to the tiny cabin Shiloh was sharing with the lesser ladies-in-waiting. “Lady Esta requires your presence, miss,” the maid reported.

  Shiloh stood up, nearly hitting her head on one of the bunks. “That is convenient. I was just trying to contrive a reason to speak with her. Where is she?”

  “I’ll show you, miss,” Jane replied. Together, the two of them stumbled their way to the royal cabin, struggling to g
et their sea legs.

  Shiloh curtseyed deeply upon entering Esta’s quarters.

  “Leave us,” the king’s daughter ordered her attendants. Lady Ann, whom Shiloh was certain reported to the queen, glanced back over her shoulder with narrow eyes, but she obeyed along with the others.

  “I am in fear for my life, Shiloh,” Lady Esta stated plainly.

  “My lady, I assure you that Lord Mosspeak and Master Hatch will do everything in their power to see to it that you make it to Fountain Bluff in good health. That is why I am here, to protect you and your sister from harm.”

  “My mother used to call Hatch a swine,” Esta replied. “How do I trust him? He installed Queen Zina in my mother’s place.”

  “A swine he may be, but he is your father’s swine. He will protect your life with his own, if need be, because that is what the king requires of him, and for the good of the kingdom. Just as he assisted in Queen Zina’s rise, because his king required it of him. He harbors no malice toward you, my lady. I say that as one whom he has, more than once, threatened to kill.”

  “I had a dream. A man pulled me over the ship’s railing, down into the water. My dress became soaked; it pulled me under,” Esta described, shuddering. “I couldn’t claw my way back to the surface.”

  “It is understandable that you would be frightened of this journey, my lady. The prospect of fighting off Lord Redwood’s men is enough to put fear in anyone,” Shiloh assured her.

  “It isn’t just his men I fear,” Esta replied darkly.

  “We will take every precaution. But you may have to be brave, my lady, and strong.”

  “I can do that. I am my mother’s daughter,” Esta pledged.

  ***

  The sky lurked dark gray above them.

  “Clear weather the whole way, eh?” Shiloh asked Hatch, looking at him askance.

  “In Kiven’s defense, it may not be a natural storm,” he replied, face grim.

  Magenta lightning lit up the sky.