by Erin Johnson
Henrick spoke behind his hand to Hank, the queen, and me. “All right, all right—save it for the job interview.”
Urs squared his shoulders. “Za public’s safety ees no joke. Za varden has to be villink to lay down hees life for za goot of za kingdoms.”
I gulped. Man, my mouth was feeling quite dry all of a sudden. I took a swig of bubbly champagne. “Wow.” I eyed the muscled man with the deadly serious face. “You take your job quite seriously.”
“Ja.” He pressed his mouth into a firm line. “Carclaustra keeps only za vorst of za vorst. Zey are monsters who haf done unthinkable things.”
I snugged up closer to Hank and he held me tighter.
Urs’s gray eyes blazed. “I vill do vatever it takes to keep zem locked inside.” He slammed a fist into his palm and I jumped.
Hank bent his head to whisper in my ear. “You okay?”
I nodded and tried to play it cool. “Oh, yeah.” Hank looked at me another moment, a little crease of concern between his brows, then turned back to the conversation. Meanwhile, I felt as though my insides had turned to ice. Urs was hard as nails, and no fool either. This was the man, expert in hand-to-hand combat and possessing a lifetime of military and prison knowledge, that we, a group of bakers, had to outsmart. I wanted to cry.
Henrick swayed on his feet. “While that’s all very admiral.” He frowned and tried again. “Admirable. You still have to get the job first, old boy!” He clapped Urs on the arm and Urs’s cold gray eyes slid toward him.
Henrick missed the stony glare as he turned back to us. “I am on the prison board and we have yet to decide which candidate will be running the prison.”
Queen Edith pressed a gloved hand to her collarbone. “Why, I can’t imagine a man more intimidating than this Urs Volker, here. Surely he’s the most qualified to keep all those dangerous criminals at bay.”
Henrick chuckled. “Intimidating, he is. Did you know he has a nickname? Tell them. Tell them your nickname, Urs.” He grinned up at Urs, whose eyes only narrowed. Henrick cleared his throat. “His subordinates call him ‘the bear.’”
Queen Edith nodded, impressed. I felt like I might be ill as I considered going head-to-head with him during the prison break Horace had planned.
“But you know.” Henrick folded his arms across himself. “Being warden isn’t all about running the prison.”
“It’s not?” Queen Edith blinked.
Henrick shook his head. “There are politics involved too of course—though you know all about that.” He winked at her and she grinned.
I turned to Hank and spoke behind my hand. “Your dad better watch out.”
He chuckled.
“The prison needs funding and donors and supporters.” Henrick spread his arms wide. “Now Beckham—there was a man who knew how to work a crowd, how to leverage connections….”
I muttered to Hank again. “How to blackmail….”
Hank choked on his champagne and flashed his eyes at me as he fought a smile.
“But a man nicknamed ‘the bear’?” Henrick gave an exaggerated grimace. “Er. Bears aren’t known for their social graces. So that’s what we’re working on, right, Urs?” He clapped Urs’s arm again and I marveled at Henrick’s bravery… or maybe just stupidity. “We need a warden who knows the prison world, but can also charm and win over the public outside those black walls.”
A muscle in Urs’s jaw jumped. I had a feeling he wasn’t a huge fan of working on that aspect of the job.
Queen Edith twirled her string of pearls around a finger. “Mr. Volker, I’ve always wondered what it’s like inside the prison. Is it true that no one but guards and prisoners have ever been inside?”
Urs’s cold eyes slid to the queen. He gave a curt nod. “True.”
She giggled. “Such a mystery.”
I frowned. “Not even Henrick or the rest of the prison board?”
“Well, we prefer to monitor from—” Henrick tugged at his shirt collar.
“Nein. None of za board has entered za prison.”
I raised my brows. Wow. How in the four seas did Horace plan for us to get in? And no wonder Madeline L’Orange wanted the scoop on the place—if no one had ever been allowed in, not even the board overseeing the place, there would be no checks on how the guards treated anyone inside.
“Has anyone ever escaped?” Queen Edith bit her lip and leaned forward, her eyes alight.
I grinned to myself. Too bad the kingdoms didn’t have television—I’d bet she would have loved all those true crime shows.
“Nein.” Urs lifted his dimpled chin. “No prisoner has ever eshcapt.”
I took another swig of champagne. “None? Ever?” Our chances of pulling off Horace’s plan, whatever it was, were looking slimmer and slimmer.
Urs shook his head. “Ve had one prisoner released.” He scowled. “But eet vas not oon eshcape!”
I looked down. What was the story there?
“Othervise, efery prisoner who has entered Carclaustra’s valls ees either shtill zere, or ees dead.”
Goose bumps prickled my arms.
“What would happen if someone tried to escape?” Queen Edith’s big blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she bit her lip.
Keep it in your pants, Edith.
Urs blinked. “Eet vould be a compromise of prison security to detail our protocols for za—”
Henrick waved a hand. “Oh for goodness sakes, Urs, what were we just talking about? Eh? Schmooze a little. This is the queen of the Water Kingdom, her son, and his girlfriend. What are they gonna do? Break in?”
Henrick and the queen laughed. I tried to cover my frozen insides by joining in.
“HA HA HA!” I slapped my thigh. “Good one! As if!”
Everyone’s confused eyes slid toward me. I cleared my throat and grew suddenly very interested in the nearly empty champagne flute in my hand.
“You all right?” Hank nudged my shoulder.
I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded a few times. “Oh yeah. So good.”
As soon as he looked away, I let my face relax into its true state, an expression of pure terror.
Urs frowned. The lines on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Fery vell.” He sighed and fixed his hard eyes on the queen. “Eef a prisoner attempted to eschape and actually managed to break out of za containment theatre…”
Containment theatre? That didn’t sound good.
“…vich zey vouldn’t,” he added, “zey vould be met with debilitating shpells.” He karate chopped one hand into the palm of the other.
I dipped my chin to avoid eye contact and sipped what was left of my champagne.
“My guarts, trained een hand-to-hand combat, vould de-arm za perpetrator, zen—”
I lifted a finger. “Excuse me, but do you mean disarm?”
His steely gaze slid to me. “I meant vat I said. De-arm zem, as een rip zer limbs from zer body.”
I choked on my drink.
He looked back at the queen. “Zey vould find zemselves een za dark, een a maze of corridors and chambers full of zer vorst horrors. No vone vould eshcape. And eef zey did, ver vould zey go?” He looked from person to person. I averted my eyes when he turned to me. Urs clasped his hands behind his back. “Za prison vas designed to be uneschcapable. Eet ees an island een za middle of za shky. Za prisoner who managed to elude me vould only plummet to zer death many kilometers below.”
I swiped my hand across my forehead to clear the cold sweat I’d broken into. A moment of quiet followed Urs’s speech, filled only by the chatter of the guests around us and the lilting music of the orchestra.
Henrich cleared his throat. “Well, that was certainly, uh, descriptive.”
The queen, her cheeks flushed, let out a breathy sigh. “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”
I frowned. Which part exactly was she referring to? The death plummet? I fanned myself.
Hank raised his thick brows at me. “Honestly—are you all right?”
&nb
sp; I opened my mouth, but was saved from answering when Hank’s father, the imposing King Roch, appeared at Queen Edith’s side. She dropped the pearls she’d been twirling and the color drained from her cheeks. She moved to the side and slightly behind him. Cas, another of Hank’s brothers, Tristan, and Louella Davenport, with her entourage of a couple of debutantes, joined us as well. The king snapped his fingers and Francis narrowed his eyes, but floated forward.
Rhonda glared at the king’s back. “I’m getting some punch.” She sauntered off.
King Roch surveyed our group with the stern frown he always wore. When his eyes drifted to us, Hank stiffened. I squeezed his arm. The king’s lip curled in disdain when he saw me, the lines on his forehead deepening.
“What are we all talking about?” His deep voice cut through our silence.
No one spoke, and I kept my mouth closed. I certainly wasn’t going to attract his attention any more than I had to.
“Nothing, apparently,” Tristan quipped. He was slighter than Hank, though just as tall, and particular about his appearance.
Louella sneered, which on her pretty face actually came off as an attractive look. So annoying. “Shocking, with such fascinating company.” Her eyes slid to me and the girls at her sides giggled.
Nuh-uh. I was not going to be one of her targets. I waved my fingers at her and plastered a huge smile on my face. “Hi, Louella!”
She frowned at my direct address.
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that?” I cupped a hand to my ear and she scowled, but went quiet. Good.
Hank turned to me. “You’re kind of scary, you know?”
I grinned back. I wasn’t really, but not having grown up in the kingdoms and certainly not in the aristocratic crowd, I didn’t know all the little social rules, and didn’t care to. And that gave me the advantage of not really caring what these people thought of me. I frowned when I noticed Emmaline still wasn’t at Cas’s side. Hopefully she’d learn to stand up to Louella.
Henrick cleared his throat and extended a hand to the king. “Why, you must be this young lady’s husband.” He looked from the queen to the king and then down at his waiting hand. I cringed as the moment went on too long. King Roch stared him down. Henrick dropped his arm, cleared his throat again, and then adjusted the bow tie at his throat.
King Roch nodded at Urs.
Urs folded into a bow and straightened. “Ve vere shpeaking of Carclaustra.”
“Ah.” The king clapped his ring-studded hands together. “One of my favorite places.”
I cocked a brow. Seriously?
The king stroked his gray-and-white beard. “I trust all is in order?”
Urs bowed his head. “Off courze, your majesty.”
“Good.” King Roch’s eyes landed on the medals at Urs’s shoulder. His expression went flat. “I made all my boys go into the military.” His nostrils flared as he looked at Cas, Tristan, and Hank. “Not one’s still in. Not one.” His eyes narrowed. “I thought it would make men of them.”
Cas cleared his throat. “Well, we’re all trained in combat and can handle ourselves. You saw to that, Father.”
I liked Cas, but man, what a suck-up.
Tristan folded his arms. “Our talents would have been wasted if we’d stayed in the military.” He smirked. “Though Hank would have made good cannon fodder.”
Hank paled, but as all eyes swung to him he managed a light tone. “If I remember correctly, weren’t you the one afraid of fireworks?”
Cas laughed and slapped Hank on the back. Even the queen peeked out from around her husband and smiled.
But Tristan’s face hardened. “Well, at least I wasn’t a sickly weakling.” He fake pouted. “Poor wittle Harry, only just a boy and deathly ill. No one even thought you’d survive.” He scoffed. “Like the military would’ve even taken you.”
My mouth hung open and I felt the tension rise in the group. The king’s face reddened and his eyes blazed. Louella lit up, no doubt soaking up every moment for gossip later. I knew this because I’d heard her gossiping about everyone else she knew at a few royal teas.
I licked my lips and spoke quietly to Hank. “Were you really that sick? You almost died?”
He gulped and lowered his voice. “I, uh, haven’t told you that before?”
“No.”
He looked down at me. “I’m really sorry. It’s another one of my family’s taboo subjects and I’m just so used to it making people look at me differently that I—” He shook his head. “I should have told you.”
My heart wrenched. Come on. I lifted my palms. “You know what? It’s totally okay that you didn’t tell me right away, because you told me now and you had your own timeline. I understand that you had your own reasons and I respect that and don’t blame you. At all.”
He shot me a quizzical look.
Maybe I’d laid it on a little thick. I plastered on a smile. “Nothing.”
The queen breathed out a forced laugh. “Let’s not speak of this—this isn’t party talk.” She shook her head at Tristan. “You know how your father feels about this subject.” Her eyes darted to the king, as if looking for approval. He ignored her. She flashed a bright smile at Henrick. “You know how brothers can be when—”
“Oh wait.” Tristan glared at Hank. “But then you miraculously healed and were totally out of control. I’m sure the military would have loved a freak like you, exploding things every time we smashed one of your fancy pies and—”
“Enough.” King Roch’s low, deep voice silenced his son. Queen Edith jumped and slipped back behind him. I froze and held tight to Hank’s arm.
Tristan rolled his eyes, then turned to Louella. “Hank used to love to bake. Can you imagine?”
She giggled behind her hand.
“He even wore this frilly apron and—”
I stomped my foot. “No, he didn’t.”
All eyes turned to me and I suddenly realized I’d spoken aloud without meaning to. I gulped and felt my heartbeat throbbing in my temples. I looked at Tristan and did my best to ignore King Roch’s piercing gaze boring into me.
Hank dipped his head to my ear. “Imogen, it’s fine, you don’t have to defend me.”
I took a shaky breath. “So what? He likes to bake.”
“Imogen.” Hank’s voice held a note of pleading, but I wasn’t going to let them insult him and put him down like this.
I lifted my palms. “I’m a baker, too. It’s creative and fulfilling and—and fun.”
Louella rolled her eyes.
“Likes? He likes to bake? As in, still does?” Cas raised his brows at me.
I frowned and thought about what I’d said. Sea snakes! I’d forgotten that Hank kept that from his family—they all thought he’d given it up as a kid. My chest tightened. I swallowed and scrambled for a way to recover. “I meant, he liked to bake and still supports it, you know, as a way to—to bring prestige and recognition to the Water Kingdom.”
Louella scoffed. “Earth bakers are renowned throughout the kingdoms.” She played with her diamond necklace. “Water’s nothing to Earth.”
I gritted my jaw. “Well, that’s why Hank wants to open a baking school. So that the kingdoms can see what talent we have right here, and to foster it.” I smiled, full of pride for my boyfriend. But as I looked around the circle I saw only flat looks. I glanced up at Hank. He looked down and held a hand over his mouth. I frowned. “Hank?” My voice came out quiet.
King Roch practically growled. “Baking school?” His chest heaved as he shot daggers at his son. “I told you to drop that.”
Hank’s throat bobbed as he kept his eyes on the ground. “Yes, sir.”
I leaned close and whispered, “I’m sorry.” My stomach twisted. I truly was.
Hank shook his head. “Don’t be.” He took a couple of breaths, and his mouth hardened. He squared his shoulders and looked up at his father. “It’s just, I believe in our bakers and think we should foster the art. Baking, like the military
, teaches discipline, hard work, attention to detail. Bakers wake up at four in the morning, every morning. They work for hours in a hot kitchen, and even a minor change in one ingredient can completely—”
King Roch cut him off. He enunciated each word with his lips curled back and his face deeply red. “Enough. You are embarrassing me.”
I bit my lip and dug my fingernails into my palm. I’d felt bad at first about spilling the beans about Hank’s dream. But now I was just angry because his family was a bunch of flotsam-faced detritus.
Hank let out a shaky breath. I glanced down. He held his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his arms stiff and a vein popping at his neck. For the second time that night, the floating lanterns overhead flickered and the ballroom dimmed. Murmurs and gasps went up from the crowd, and the orchestral music faltered.
King Roch’s eyes blazed in the semidarkness as he hissed at Hank. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
The lights came back on, full strength, as Hank swayed on his feet. His chest heaved as he glanced around the circle. Louella and Tristan gaped, the queen cowered, and Henrick and Urs watched with narrow eyes. Cas alone seemed concerned like me.
“You okay, brother?”
Hank shook his head and hiked his shoulders. “I-I’m sorry, everyone, please excuse me.” He looked back at me with wide eyes. “I’m sorry.” Then he took off. He slid through the dense crowd and disappeared before I realized what he was doing. I blinked and rose on my toes trying to find him. He’d left? I’d better go after him.
I opened my mouth to make my excuses, when Emmaline appeared at my side between Cas and me. With a bright, forced smile she looked around the tense group. “What’d I miss?”
8
Blueprints
I covered a yawn with the back of my hand, then groaned and rubbed my eyes.
“Party too hard last night, future princess?” Iggy cackled. He sat in his lantern on the gleaming white marble countertop of the Air Kingdom’s royal bakery.
