Starbride barked a laugh. “In more ways than one.”
“Ah. Blame your honesty on your Allusian heritage?”
“Oh no.” Starbride’s mother wouldn’t think of herself as dishonest, not an outright liar, but she could play the courtier shuffle with her hands tied behind her back. “It’s just…me.”
Castelle chuckled, and Starbride almost expected her to say something silly like, “I can see why she likes you.” But she must have known that any reference to Katya wouldn’t be welcome. Starbride didn’t let anyone pry into their lives, no matter who they were.
Before they came within sight of the royal apartments, Castelle made as if to turn aside. Starbride couldn’t resist a small jab. “Not wanting to run into her?”
Castelle turned slowly, mouth turned up. “I was wondering if one of us was going to mention her.”
“I couldn’t resist. I’m sorry.” But she wasn’t, not really. She could be dishonest after all.
“Our history is just that.”
“I know. But you didn’t part on good terms.”
“Are you going to thrash me for the history or just on principle?”
“No, no.” She wouldn’t need to thrash; she had pyramids. “I suppose I’m just curious.”
“Then why aren’t you having this conversation with her?”
Her crossed arms were reminiscent of Katya, and it almost made Starbride pause. “I have. But as Horsestrong said, different perspectives help make a clear portrait.”
“I was young. We were young. I won’t apologize for who I am or who I was. I can only say that I hope we can all be friends, or at least comrades.”
Starbride tilted her head but didn’t comment. Only Katya would know how to heal her old wounds; only Katya could say if she wanted to be friends or comrades. Like Dawnmother, though, Starbride would keep her eyes open.
Something of her thoughts must have showed on her face. Castelle’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, Princess Consort. I wouldn’t leave you out in the cold. If I’m going to be friends with her, I’m perfectly aware that I’ll have to be your friend, too.”
Starbride shrugged again. “Well, you can try.” Before Castelle had a chance to respond, Starbride walked down the hall into the royal apartments where Castelle couldn’t follow.
Chapter Eleven: Katya
Robert Rochester, Duke of Baelyn, had been an imposing man in his youth. Katya could still see some of his former girth in his shrunken frame, but she couldn’t remember him without the limp or the bow in his back. He was stooped and gray now; the only imposing thing about him was the deep, rich voice that sounded as if it should come from a younger, healthier man.
Katya stared at him as he stared at the floor. He couldn’t have been much older than her father, but he seemed as old as time itself and just as weary. “What did she do?” he asked again. He glanced at Katya’s father, but he didn’t look Da full in the face, not yet.
“Brom informed our enemies of the crown prince’s movements. He was nearly killed,” Da said, the story they’d all agreed upon.
“I had heard that there was an earthquake, and that it had something to do with…what the royal family must do to pacify the great Fiend?”
Katya shifted slightly. The populace knew too much to be completely deceived and too little to really understand why pacifying Yanchasa was such an ordeal. Still, she let her father handle the explanation.
“She waited for that time so that her machinations were less likely to be discovered.”
Duke Robert smoothed the gray whiskers of his goatee. “I just can’t believe…”
Katya pitied the old man. He couldn’t be long for the world, and he had to see his daughter dishonored before his end. At least Brom wouldn’t be dead.
Da gently patted Duke Robert’s shoulder. “If you like, I could have my pyradisté blank her memory. The world would know she’d been returned to your house, but she wouldn’t know why, and she could live blithely on.”
Katya lifted an eyebrow. Everyone would know of Brom’s divorce, of her dishonor, except Brom? Wouldn’t she wonder why she was shut away? Crowe—even with Starbride’s help—couldn’t selectively erase Reinholt from Brom’s memory. They’d have to take entire years, including the memories of her children. Wouldn’t she wonder what had happened to her?
Unless Da was suggesting taking her memory wholesale and letting her father invent any past he chose, a fall from her horse, perhaps, that had stolen her memories.
Duke Robert bowed his head again, considering.
Katya thought of Brom, alone in the dungeon in her chains. Not an hour ago, Katya had leaned close to her and whispered, “Speak of our secrets to anyone, and you die.”
Brom had nodded, not looking up.
It wasn’t good enough. “If you tell all that you know, your children could be removed from the succession. Who would guarantee their safety then?”
Brom had glared murder at her, but Katya hadn’t let on that she lied. She’d hoped the mere idea might make Brom behave.
“No,” Duke Robert finally said. “She will live with her shame.”
He loved her too much to kill her, yet he was still angry enough to shame her. That was good. An ashamed father wouldn’t lightly forgive her or seek revenge on her behalf.
Moments later, Ma accompanied Brom into the formal sitting room, leaving the guards in the hallway. Dressed in a simple shift, Brom had been bathed and shod. She was no longer bound, but her sleeves hung well over her wrists, hiding any marks left by cold steel. She’d been plump, but now her cheeks had sunk in, and her dark hair lay lifelessly across her shoulders. When she saw her father, her brown eyes flooded with tears, and she stepped forward.
Duke Robert turned away. Brom stopped, mid-stride, and tears fell down her cheeks.
“Your Majesties,” Duke Robert said as he bowed. “I thank you for your mercy.”
“Mercy?” Brom whispered.
Duke Robert didn’t look at her. “Shut your mouth, girl.” He bowed to all three royals again. “Please apologize on my behalf to his highness, the crown prince.”
Da nodded, but Katya doubted he’d do it. Reinholt wasn’t anywhere near the mood for apologies.
Duke Robert started for the door, still not looking at his daughter. “Come, Brom.”
“Where are my children? I can’t say good-bye?”
Katya glanced at her parents’ faces and saw the same coldness she felt in her heart.
“Come, Brom,” Duke Robert said. “Now.”
Brom drew a deep breath, but before she could speak, Duke Robert was beside her, his fingers digging into her arm until his knuckles whitened. He spoke directly into her ear, though Katya could hear him from where she stood. “Do not speak. Come. Now.”
Brom made a shallow sob but walked out the door. Duke Robert kept his grip upon her arm. After a nod from her father, Katya followed them through the servants’ quarters and then to the servants’ stables. There, Katya signaled to Brutal, already astride his charger and waiting behind the stalls. He followed the duke’s carriage and guards as they left the palace.
When Katya climbed up the stairs and ducked into a secret passageway just outside the servants’ quarters, Starbride was waiting. She’d been following through the walls at Katya’s request, pyramid at the ready, just in case. A lantern sat near her feet. Her arms opened, and Katya leaned into them.
“Come back to my room,” Starbride said, her breath warm against Katya’s cheek.
“I wish I could, but I have more unpleasant business to attend to. Mother has asked me to make sure Reinholt has ordered the proper outfit for the opening of the fall festival.”
“Babysitting again.” Starbride put on a haughty, somewhat evil smile. “Oh, I’ll be all right, I suppose. Castelle has volunteered to be my friend.”
“Did she?”
“I could go see what she’s doing if I’m lonely.”
Katya fought down a surprising jot of jealousy as the image o
f the two together popped into her head, forcing out the thought of getting rid of Brom. “Castelle’s not doing anything nearly as special as what I can do.” She brushed Starbride’s cheek with her lips.
Starbride laughed, a smoky sound. “But you have so many duties…”
Katya tilted her head back and forth, more than ready to banish darker thoughts from her head. “We have only a few moments, and I love a challenge.” Before Starbride could speak again, Katya stepped close and demonstrated some of the things she had learned, both from Castelle and from others.
Starbride responded with a passion that matched Katya’s, and after a short time, they were both breathing hard and leaning on the hard stone, clothes shifted or unlaced or unbuttoned. Katya grinned, surprised to find that her passion had been ignited not only by the need to put away dark thoughts, but by the danger of making love in the secret passageways where her family or the Order could find them.
Starbride grinned, and Katya knew she’d been thinking along the same lines. “Well, well.” She laced her bodice and pulled her shirt straight.
Katya groped for her trousers. “That was fun.”
“We have to do this more often.”
“I can always spare this kind of time.”
“Oh sure. Time for a conversation, absolutely not, but for this…”
“Tell me your priorities aren’t the same!”
“Well,” Starbride said, and even in the glow from the lantern, Katya could see her blush. “I have to admit, this is time better spent than most.”
*
For the next few weeks, all Katya’s time seemed to be spent either preparing for the festival, counting down to the festival, or enduring the awful family dinners she’d been commanded to attend. Starbride earned points in her mother’s favor by volunteering to sit out. Little did Ma know that Starbride counted herself lucky to be excluded.
Without more Roland or Maia sightings, Katya could let the normal work of the Order consume her, anything that kept her from dwelling on her brother’s behavior, the imminent arrival of Starbride’s mother, or the presence of Castelle at court.
She kept reminding herself to take one thing at a time. Crowe’s contact in Dockland had no more information about Maia or Darren, though they couldn’t trust his word anymore. He’d surely been found out as snitch to the king’s sneak. They’d all been used in a trap, probably to find out how vulnerable they were with Crowe out of commission. He’d have to double-check all his information from then on.
*
Almost before any of them realized it, the fall festival was upon them. Opening day, Katya and her family stood on a newly built dais in the square in front of the palace. The people of Marienne packed the square to capacity, ready to hear the royal opening speech.
Reinholt was being an ass, as usual. He crossed his arms and fidgeted from where he stood just beside their parents. If the cleaners had left any dirt on the wooden dais, he would have been kicking it. Katya could have slapped him.
Standing just behind her mother and father, Starbride at her side, Katya adopted a regal stance. Starbride kept trying to swallow a grin. She wore the same deep blue gown she had worn at Reinholt’s welcoming ball, a large glittering creation that made her skin shine. She’d even talked Katya into a coat that was neither black nor blue. Deep green, she’d said, would remind the people that warmer times were coming. Katya couldn’t argue with that.
Master Bernard and the heads of the Pyradisté Academy made the academy’s capstone sparkle and shine, cycling from bright white to orange and yellow and red, all the colors of fall. It accentuated the bunting and decorations that covered the square and extended down every street in the city.
“Each year,” Da said, “we gather to celebrate the harvest and the farmer, the lifeblood of Farraday. We honor your labor and the products of your work. Without you, we could not survive. May the merriment of our revels keep us warm in winter winds and remind us that spring must come again!” The crowd erupted in cheers. Reinholt rolled his eyes. Katya stopped herself just short of kicking him.
The merchants around the square and through the streets lifted the awnings from their booths. The crowd surged toward their favorites to buy up goods or flowers or souvenirs. Wandering vendors with trays slung around their necks sauntered into the open, selling pastries or roasted nuts. The smell washed over Katya and stirred up memories that made her smile. She leaned close to her mother and father.
“It’s time.”
With a final wave to the crowd, the royal family trooped back inside the palace, glad-handing nobles as they went. When they were halfway back to the royal apartments, Reinholt pulled up short. “We always wander through the crowd.”
“Not after Roland,” Katya said.
Reinholt sneered at her. “You may be head of the Order, Little K, but I outrank you.”
“You don’t outrank me, my boy,” Da said quietly. His tone was soft and fatherly, but his posture was made of steel.
Reinholt’s nostrils flared, and his eyes turned fearful for a moment, but he stood his ground. “Brom’s gone, Da. I just need a little normalcy.”
“Under guard,” Ma said softly.
After an unblinking moment, Da nodded. “With Katya, her team, and Lord Vincent.” He stepped close to Reinholt, and Katya didn’t catch every word, but enough to know that he wanted Reinholt to take Katya’s orders when it came to staying safe.
Katya bent close to Starbride’s ear. “Gather the Order and meet me in front of the palace in five minutes.”
Starbride’s mouth turned down, no doubt at the idea of spending time with Reinholt and Lord Vincent both, but unlike Katya’s churlish brother, Starbride didn’t argue with her duty. She nodded and hurried away.
Katya nodded to Reinholt, tried to summon up some sisterly feelings, and tried on a grin. “We’ll collect Lord Vincent on our way.”
He smiled at her, a ghost of his former self but better than a sneer. He even offered his arm, which she pushed away with a laugh.
“Would you throw your body into the path of an assassin’s knife?” he asked.
Katya blinked at him. “Of course, Rein.”
He stared at her for half a second, but said nothing. Lord Vincent joined them, and when they reached the main hall, Starbride waited with Dawnmother and Averie. She tilted her head to both sides as if stretching. Katya got the message. Brutal and Pennynail were around.
Reinholt took the lead with Lord Vincent at his side. Katya followed close behind them, her arm entwined with Starbride’s. Dawnmother and Averie brought up the rear, both carrying baskets should anyone decide to make a purchase. They wandered through the main market and down several side streets, following the line of booths. The festival had spread through the streets like a giant, many-armed monster. In one square, the booths sat in front of closed shops and homes. The people played games, bob for apples or splat the rat. In a corner, a troupe put on a puppet show for a gaggle of children, some of them wearing finery and others dressed in homespun smocks.
Starbride and Katya put their heads together and tried to look as if they made idle conversation as they traded information. “On our right, thirty feet, blue hat,” Katya said.
Starbride looked in the indicated direction as if searching the booths. “He’s waving at someone behind us.”
As they wandered from the square and into another street, the booths began to thin. Katya pulled Reinholt’s arm and leaned close as if to share a joke. “I think we should find another way.”
“We can cut through this small street to a broader one,” he said, not bothering to keep his tone low.
Katya fought a frown and laughed instead. “True enough,” she said loudly. Then in a lower tone she said, “That doesn’t mean we should.”
He shook her off, and the look he cast her from the corner of his eye said he’d welcome trouble if it found them. Blood pounded in Katya’s temples, and she ached to grab his arm and pull it behind his back until he lifted o
nto his toes. But she couldn’t brawl with him in public. Katya glanced around the narrow street and then toward the more jovial streets they’d left behind. If they wandered farther from prying eyes, maybe she could beat some sense into him.
A couple of drunks staggered into the street from the side door of a tavern. Katya put a hand on her rapier. Lord Vincent stepped in front of Reinholt and mirrored Katya’s posture.
“Wha’s this? Who’s that?” one of the drunks slurred. He peered at them in the torchlit gloom.
Katya opened her mouth to say they should turn around, but Lord Vincent spoke first. “Out of the way, good peasants,” he said in what he probably thought was a complimentary manner. “Your prince needs egress.”
Katya nearly groaned. She could have talked their way through without the two drunks knowing who they were. She glanced behind and saw no one else, but two fake drunks would be the perfect cover for a robbery. Starbride, Averie, and Dawnmother backed up a few steps and watched the rear.
One of the drunks burst out laughing. “He needs what? Wha’s that he needs?”
“Egress? That a bird?” the other asked, stepping closer.
“Get back,” Lord Vincent said.
“Vincent,” Reinholt started.
“Is the prince!” the closer drunk said. “Fuckin’ prince on our street!”
“Watch your tongue,” Lord Vincent said.
“It’s all right.” Reinholt waved the words away. He dug in his pouch as if he’d pay the drunks a toll to get by.
“Just go around them,” Katya said.
“Didn’t your wife run off?” the drunk in the rear asked. “Ran back to her father?”
“S’right,” the lead one echoed. He nodded like a bobbing apple.
Reinholt stiffened into stone. “Get the hell out of my way.”
The drunk in the rear stepped up, and Katya got a better look at him. Unlike his friend, his coat had a hint of brocade. “Reinholt,” she said, “go around them.”
Reinholt sneered. “Move these people, Vincent.”
Lord Vincent shoved the drunks away. The one in brocade pushed back, face purpling. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
For Want of a Fiend Page 8
