For Want of a Fiend

by Barbara Ann Wright

  “Those are the choices before us, dearest. I shall send for both of them. I’ll have to offer Duke Robert something to get him to bring his daughter back, probably my permission for her to marry again, but if he won’t allow her to come, or if once here, she fights us, it’ll have to be Mother.”

  “Poor Grandmother,” Katya said. “I’ll bet she thought her Waltzing days were long behind her.”

  Chapter Fifteen: Katya

  They held the funeral for Georgie Appleton the next morning, before any more festival events. Four white horses pulled the black cart through the streets, Appleton’s coffin barely showing from the sea of flowers inside. The festive decorations in the square in front of the palace had been replaced with black bunting, and many sleeves sported black armbands.

  Katya thought it’d be written in the history books as the most lavish funeral ever held for a magistrate’s assistant. Even so, from her position on the dais, she noted angry faces in the crowd. In Magistrate Anthony’s district, she’d heard that people wept as the coffin rolled by.

  How many were wondering where Prince Reinholt was? Everyone in Marienne had heard about his demotion; the people had to be waiting for a show of public remorse. Da hadn’t issued a statement about Reinholt’s whereabouts; Katya had heard no end of rumors, the foremost being that the king had killed his own son for being an embarrassment.

  Magistrate Anthony stood on the dais, too, a few steps down from the royals. His face had gone stark white under his mop of dark hair. His light gray eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. He had tear tracks on his cheeks that he wiped away. When Da offered his condolences, Magistrate Anthony said, “Thank you,” in a soft voice, but he had a hardness in his eyes that said he wouldn’t lightly forgive.

  Magistrate Anthony turned and caught Katya staring. She offered a nod. He didn’t return it, didn’t even bow. When the coffin rolled to a stop in front of the dais, he clomped down the steps to join it.

  Da started his speech. Katya barely heard it. The crowd shifted and fidgeted, but Katya focused on anyone who seemed intent on getting to the front.

  Several men and women slipped through the crowd like serpents. They weren’t looking at Da or anyone on the dais. They seemed focused on the coffin cart or Magistrate Anthony.

  Katya caught Brutal’s eye where he stood at the edge of the crowd. She flicked her eyes toward the moving figures, counting seven. He turned slowly. Tall enough to see over many of those behind him, he headed toward the nearest of the seven.

  Starbride leaned up to her ear. “I see them.”

  Katya nearly chuckled. Of course she’d seen them. She didn’t miss much.

  The woman Brutal had been moving toward changed course and headed away from Magistrate Anthony. Brutal started toward the next closest suspect, never straying more than twenty feet from the coffin cart. If someone wanted to make the Umbriels’ position more tenuous, they couldn’t do better than murdering Magistrate Anthony and laying that crime at the Umbriels’ door.

  There was no way Brutal could stop all seven people, no way to tell who was really curious and who had darker thoughts on his or her mind. Da came to the end of his speech and announced that the Umbriels would donate gold to a cause both Magistrate Anthony and Appleton had championed: housing for the poor. As the crowd applauded politely, Katya touched the back of her father’s arm and then walked down the steps. When she reached Magistrate Anthony, she patted him on the shoulder.

  “Magistrate,” Katya said loudly, “please accept my condolences on behalf of the crown.”

  Behind her, her father applauded; the nobles and courtiers behind him did the same, followed somewhat hesitantly by the crowd.

  Magistrate Anthony frowned. They’d already done this. Still, he bowed. “Thank you, Crown Princess.”

  From the ground, Katya could see Brutal still on the move. She couldn’t stand there and pat Anthony on the shoulder forever, though.

  She turned to the crowd. “I hope you will all join me tonight in drinking a toast to Appleton’s life. Let every barkeep know that each citizen of Marienne will receive one free beer this night, courtesy of their crown princess!”

  The people paused, almost as if holding their breath before they roared in appreciation and clapped their fellows on the backs and shoulders as if she’d made them all rich.

  “And the offer starts right now!”

  They cried out again, and the front ranks bowed over and over. The crowd surged away and carried everyone with them. Brutal leapt to the front before the mob could catch him.

  Magistrate Anthony’s stunned stare turned suspicious. “They’d have mobbed you otherwise, Magistrate,” Katya said. “You’d better go now, or you won’t have any privacy.”

  Brutal breathed hard as if he’d just fought off a stampede of cattle as he moved to Katya’s side.

  “This is a friend of mine,” Katya said. “He’ll see that you and Mr. Appleton get to the cemetery in peace. You and those closest to you will have room to grieve.”

  “Thank you, Highness.” He climbed up beside the driver on the coffin cart, and Brutal walked beside it as it drove away. Without the crowd to play on, Katya doubted any would-be assassins would be quick to attack.

  She climbed up the dais and nodded at the nobles and courtiers who still applauded her. Her father bent down to her ear. “That’ll put quite a dent in your coffers, my girl. Lucky for you, beer is cheap.”

  “It’s a small price.”

  He smiled, and she wondered if he’d realized why she’d spent the money. She’d tell him later. He usually turned out to be wilier than she gave him credit for.

  “Now we have a hunt to open, yes?” Starbride asked.

  Katya nodded. The death of one commoner hadn’t put the nobles or courtiers out of the festive spirit. She’d open an event for them, and by the time her family went out into the city later that day, hopefully, the crowd would be in a much better mood.

  Chapter Sixteen: Starbride

  At the opening of the hunt, Starbride watched Katya’s brilliance; her voice rang out clear as a bell, her posture was the epitome of poise and grace, with just enough drollness mixed in to have the rich crowd eating out of her hand. The nobles and courtiers loved her, but most of them had done that before. The city would be the challenge.

  The king and queen strolled through the grand marketplace of Marienne with Katya and Starbride half a step behind and Lord Vincent just beyond them with the youngest royals in tow. They sampled redberry cakes and pastries, all of which had been approved beforehand. Most people smiled at the royals, bowed and scraped and beamed under their praise. No doubt the free drinks helped.

  Starbride kept an eye on the crowd. She didn’t know if it was her imagination or not, but she thought she saw more furrowed brows, more frowns than before. Some clearly weren’t won over by free beer. Starbride tried to shake the suspicious feeling off and told herself that these were just normal people with a range of expressions. Still, she stuck close to Katya, grateful that Hugo trailed them, along with a few privileged nobles. Behind them was an even smaller sampling of courtiers, including Starbride’s mother.

  In the back, Starbride reminded herself. Her mother was stuck at the back, out of earshot. The thought made her smile.

  Starbride caught a flash of very pale hair out of the corner of her eye; Maia leapt to her foremost thoughts. She kept herself from whipping around and tried to maintain a pleasant expression as she looked for the hair again. There, between two stalls, hair nearly as pale as Lord Vincent’s, and underneath that, a face Starbride knew well.

  “Maia,” she breathed. The crowd moved, and Starbride lost her.

  “What?” Katya said through her smile.

  “I saw Maia.”

  Katya stiffened. “Go. Take Hugo.”

  Starbride fell back to where he stood. He smiled genially and bowed. She threaded her arm through his. “I need an escort that way, quick as can be believable.”

  Smart boy, he paused fo
r half a heartbeat then rallied. “Come, Princess Consort, you must taste these pastries.” He hurried her along, his entire posture screaming boyish enthusiasm. The idea of adventure still excited him, and she had to admit, it thrilled her as well, though experience had taught her caution. She wouldn’t be caught in a burning apartment, for a start.

  While pretending to eat a pastry, Starbride turned full circle and caught that pale flash of hair again. “What about over there?” She practically dragged Hugo in Maia’s direction.

  The procession left them behind. The crowd eyed them curiously as they came near the edge of the marketplace, toward a decidedly dark alley. Starbride nearly swore. Why did it always have to be alleys?

  “Are we chasing someone?” Hugo said. “We dare not go in there after them.”

  Starbride nearly stomped her foot. She agreed with him, but Darkstrong take her, Maia was getting away. And Hugo was armed. And it was at least open and not inside a building. “I saw your sister.”

  He leaned ahead as if his own desire to find Maia pulled him forward. Starbride looked over her shoulder and searched for Brutal, just one more ally to come with them.

  “There she is!” Hugo lunged forward, but she wasn’t about to let him go without her.

  She grabbed his wrist and dipped into her dress pocket for a flash bomb. “This is undoubtedly a trap.”

  “I know.” He drew his rapier.

  “Be careful.” Appleton’s dead body flashed in her mind. “Accidents…happen.”

  She knew it sounded lame, but she had to say something, had to warn him from stabbing the first person who stumbled from a doorway. If Hugo killed a member of the populace so soon after Appleton, King Einrich would have to give them his head on a platter.

  “Where in Darkstrong’s name are you going?” a voice called from behind them.

  Starbride whipped around, obeying that voice before she’d even registered who it was. Her mother stood behind them, fists on her hips.

  “It’s bad enough that our servants couldn’t be part of this procession, and now you’re leaving it, too?” Her mother glanced at Hugo and then at the point where Starbride touched his arm. “What are you doing? Who is this person?”

  “Mother,” Starbride said with forced cheerfulness, “this is Lord Hugo Sandy. Lord Hugo, my mother Brightstriving.”

  Even as Hugo bowed, her mother scowled further. “Only a lord,” she muttered.

  “We thought we saw someone we know.”

  “Someone you know? Going away from the procession? Down an alley?”

  Starbride’s smile turned to stone, but she kept it in place. “Yep.” She tried a laugh, but it came out strangled. She could just start down the alley, but her mother would only follow, nagging all the while. “She’s…a friend who’s in a bit of trouble, so we thought we’d follow her to see if we might help.” She gotten better at lying since being in Farraday, but this was her mother, who’d always been able to see through any lie she could conjure.

  “She’s carrying the illegitimate child of a married duke,” Hugo said. “I’m sure we can depend on your mother’s discretion, Miss Starbride.”

  “Of…of course,” her mother said.

  “The duke asked me to negotiate a price to keep the woman quiet,” Hugo said. “And since the Umbriels need a representative…”

  “Everyone would notice if one of them broke the procession, but my daughter…” She put on a smug, calculated smile. “I’ll wait here, just in case someone tries to disturb you.”

  Hugo led the way down the alley. At least her mother hadn’t wondered why he was armed. She probably assumed that was only natural, just in case the scheming pregnant woman became violent.

  “How did you think of that so quickly?” Starbride asked.

  “I’ve been working on it since we first left the procession. I want to help you and the crown princess, Miss Starbride. I always knew deception would play a part. When is it not a part of living at court?”

  “True enough.”

  They turned a corner and pulled up short at the sight of the brick wall, a dead end. A green cloak lay in a heap off to the side, no sign of its wearer.

  Hugo and Starbride spun around. No one stood behind them. Starbride stared at the surrounding walls. The palace was riddled with secret passageways. What if some of the buildings in Marienne were the same?

  She ignored the cloak. If anything were trapped, it would be. She felt around the damp bricks and glanced up at three windows that looked down on the alley. She didn’t know if even Pennynail could make the climb, certainly not before she and Hugo had rounded the corner.

  “What are you looking for?” Hugo asked.

  “A way out.” She looked at the cobbles for flaked mortar or some other indication that a section of wall had moved.

  Hugo bent toward the swath of fabric. Starbride grabbed his arm. “There are trap pyramids,” she said.

  “Can you disarm them?”

  “I only have my flash bomb and a light pyramid.”

  He straightened slowly. Starbride followed him around the corner where he picked up a piece of broken brick and lobbed it at the cloak before she could stop him.

  Starbride hauled backward on his coat. He stumbled into her, his wide eyes inches from hers before he staggered back, his cheeks blazing.

  “Terribly sorry,” he mumbled as if he’d made the choice to run into her. “Nothing happened.” He gestured around the corner, but his face blazed as if he was speaking to someone who’d seen them so close together.

  “If that cloak had been trapped, it could have blown your head off!”

  “I’m…I’m sorry.”

  Starbride cast another glance at the high windows and wondered what it would take for someone to make that climb.

  Before she could take a step into the dead end again, Pennynail dropped from one of the rooftops, caught a window to slow his fall, and then dropped noiselessly to the ground. Hugo stepped deftly around Starbride, his rapier on guard.

  Starbride grabbed Hugo’s arm. “We saw—”

  Pennynail held up a hand and then pointed back the way they’d come. When they didn’t move, Pennynail made a shooing motion. Starbride pressed her lips together, not liking being dismissed even before she was royalty.

  “Perhaps he’s right.” Hugo slid his rapier home. “We’re not dressed for a tour of the city’s alleys.”

  Pennynail clapped him on the shoulder, but then stared at Starbride. She could almost see through the manic grin to Freddie’s disapproval. “All right, but be careful.”

  He tugged at the buckles near his shoulders as if asking her who she thought she was talking to. “Let’s get back,” Starbride said. Hugo’s pinched expression mirrored hers, but there was nothing else to do but collect her mother and rejoin the procession.

  Chapter Seventeen: Katya

  Katya took Starbride’s report as they strolled. They had to speak in hurried, whispered voices when Katya wanted to pace and think and yell. She smiled at the populace and ate thrice-bedamned pie when she wanted to run after her cousin and comb the alleys until every square inch had been searched. Barring that, she wanted to tear her hair out and scream at Fah and Fey for cursing her luck at every turn.

  A baker bowed to Katya. “Fresh just this instant, Highness.”

  Katya smiled and hoped to convey tolerant boredom. She gave half the cake to Starbride, took a bite, and nodded appreciatively. Her tongue was already coated with redberries, but even if she had been able to taste it, she wouldn’t have paid much attention. How many times had she been forced to eat cake instead of doing her job? But, her inner voice reminded her, the crown princess would have to eat more cakes than the princess ever did. That meant sending Starbride on more missions, like exploring unknown, trap-filled alleys. Katya gritted her teeth, kept up her smile, and cursed Reinholt again.

  Behind her and Starbride, young Vierdrin and Bastian squealed over their dessert. Their tutors taught them to school their expressio
ns, but they slipped constantly. They called to Vincent more than their nannies or family.

  “Lord Vincent, may I have a cake?”

  “Lord Vincent, look at the banners!”

  “A talking bird! May we see it, Lord Vincent, may we, please?”

  Vierdrin did most of the talking, with Bastian echoing her like the parrot they were so fond of.

  Lord Vincent knelt at their sides, his silver head bent over their blond ones as he explained about people, redberries, or decorations. His expression stayed soft except when he had to rein them in; then he spoke to them evenly but sternly. Even though they were his betters, they were still children. Katya thanked every spirit that he knew the difference. She only wished he’d seen it in Reinholt.

  To Katya’s knowledge, neither child had asked about their father. There’d been some early crying for their mother, but that had mostly dried up. Now they clung to Lord Vincent’s side.

  “It’s like Vincent’s their father,” Katya whispered in Starbride’s ear.

  “I noticed. It almost makes me like him a little, but I can still feel his disapproval.”

  “If you ordered him to flog himself, he would.”

  “An interesting idea.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But the children would never forgive me.”

  Bastian caught her glance and held out one little arm. “Starbride!”

  Vincent whispered in the child’s ear. Bastian blinked for half a moment before he grinned again. “Crown Princess Consort Starbride,” he said, stumbling over the words.

  Starbride frowned, and Katya thought she might sigh at the protocol, but she managed not to. “I’ve been summoned.” When she fell back to walk hand-in-hand with Bastian, Katya went with her. “Yes, young prince?”

  Bastian giggled. When Vierdrin dashed to the side, Vincent stepped after her, pulling Bastian—and the rest of them—that way as well.

  Vincent bowed as best he could while holding on to two children. “My apologies, Highnesses.”