Kill the Queen

by Jennifer Estep

  No one was around to see my misery. Everyone else had already gone to bed, even the Ungers, who loved to drink ale and cider, sit by the fire, and play games late into the night. I rounded the corner and spotted the door to my room at the far end of the hallway. A hundred more feet, and I could crawl into bed and not move a single aching muscle until morning—

  A shadow detached itself from the wall to my left. I blinked, thinking that I was so tired that I was hallucinating. Then I saw a flash of silver, and I realized that it wasn’t a hallucination. Some assassin was in the castle, rushing toward me.

  For a moment, I stood there, frozen in place. Then all those lessons that Serilda had been beating into me took hold, and my feet moved of their own accord, propelling me out of the way. I rushed back so quickly that I banged into a painting hanging on the wall behind me.

  But the assassin didn’t stop, not for one second, and she raised her sword for another strike. I pivoted to the side just in time to keep her blade from skewering me.

  The assassin had committed all her strength and speed to the blow, and her sword sliced through the canvas and got stuck in the frame. She grunted, but she pulled the weapon out of the wood and whirled around to face me again. She was so fast that I barely had time to yank my own sword out of my scabbard and lift it up to block her next blow.

  Clang!

  Our swords crashed together in a thunderous roar, and the assassin bore down with her weapon, trying to use her strength to wrest my sword out of my hand. I gritted my teeth, tightened my grip, and threw her off. Then, before the assassin could come at me again, I whipped up my own sword and attacked.

  Back and forth we fought through the hallway, each one of us lashing out with our weapons and doing our best to kill the other. Perhaps it was my worry or exhaustion or both, but sometime during the battle, I realized that I could actually hear the music from all the training sessions playing in my mind. I grabbed hold of the phantom music and let it sweep me away, moving to the beats just as I had during the Tanzen Freund. Only this time, I wasn’t dancing. I was going through all the steps, all the strikes and counterstrikes, that Serilda had drilled into me.

  And for the first time, the music, the dancing, the fighting all came together, and it actually worked.

  I managed to keep the assassin from killing me, although I couldn’t wound her in return. The longer we fought, the more I found myself humming along to the music in my mind. I blocked out everything else except for the music, the feel of my sword in my hand, and the steps that I needed to perform in order to survive.

  The assassin was clothed in black from head to toe, including the knit mask that covered her face and head. All I could really see was the glitter of her eyes and the flash of her sword in the shadows. Vasilia must have found out that I was still alive and had sent this assassin after me.

  Cold rage surged through me, and I grabbed hold of the emotion, using it to drown out the exhaustion that threatened to topple me with every step. This assassin was not going to kill me. Vasilia was not going to kill me. Not like this.

  The assassin came at me again, and I stepped up to meet her attack, lashing out hard with my sword. And I did something that I hadn’t been able to do so far—I disarmed her.

  I knocked away her sword, which skittered down the hallway. I whipped up my blade and pressed my advantage, but the assassin spun away, reached up, and ripped off her mask, revealing her blond hair and the sunburst scar at the corner of her eye.

  Serilda—I had been fighting Serilda this whole time.

  “A test?” I screeched. “It was all a bloody test?”

  She gave me a smug smile. “Of course it was a test. One that you passed.”

  I wanted to attack her again, but I was too tired. “You couldn’t do this earlier? When I wasn’t covered with blood and bruises and about to pass out from exhaustion?”

  “I’ve been trying to do it all day, but you’ve been thinking too much. So I decided to force you to stop thinking and just react.” She shrugged. “To force you to let go and tap into all of that delicious cold rage deep inside you. Still think it’s not there?”

  My lips pressed together. She was right about the rage. It was the only thing that had let me beat her, and it still hummed through my veins, beating in perfect time with my heart.

  “I hate you right now,” I muttered.

  “You might hate me, but I’ve taught you how to fight,” Serilda said, even more smug than before. “Now the real work can begin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I didn’t think that it was possible, but after that night, Serilda trained me even harder.

  And I actually started to get better—I actually started to get good.

  As much as I hated to admit it, Serilda’s sneak attack unlocked something in my mind, something that was holding me back, and I started putting the steps, movements, and training together into a cohesive fighting style. Oh, I still wasn’t as good as Cho, Paloma, or Sullivan, but I managed to hold my own against them, and I even won some of our sparring bouts.

  Even Serilda couldn’t kill me inside the first minute anymore. Sometimes, it took her three minutes, or five, or longer. Sometimes, I even managed to disarm her, although she always got the better of me before I could move in for the final strike.

  But training wasn’t the only thing we did. We also planned how we could take down Vasilia, Felton, Nox, and Maeven.

  One morning, about six weeks after we had come to Castle Asmund, Serilda, Cho, Paloma, Sullivan, and Xenia were gathered around the table in my bedroom poring over maps of Seven Spire and the surrounding city.

  I stood by the window, holding back the white lace curtain and staring down at one of the courtyards. The acrobats were tumbling across the flagstones, while the wire walkers were practicing their flips on the cables they had strung up. The gladiators were also there, going through their drills and formations.

  “It doesn’t matter how well Evie is progressing in her training if we can’t get her close enough to actually issue the royal challenge to Vasilia,” Xenia said.

  “I know that,” Serilda snapped. “But my sources say that Vasilia is holed up inside Seven Spire, preparing for the coronation, so we have to find some way to sneak Evie inside the palace.”

  Xenia sniffed. “Your spies are inferior. Mine are reporting that Vasilia has been seen out and about in the city several times.”

  “Yes, my spies have reported that too. They have also reported that Vasilia never sets foot outside the palace without a heavy guard. So even if we could find out when she was leaving the palace, we still wouldn’t be able to get close to her without engaging her guards. Which, of course, would give Nox and Felton plenty of time to get Vasilia to safety, and then we would lose our chance to issue the challenge altogether.”

  Xenia sniffed again, conceding the other woman’s point, but just barely.

  Serilda rolled her eyes and went back to her maps. Xenia’s fingers curled around the top of her cane, as though she was thinking about braining the other woman with it. I didn’t know their history, but it had quickly become apparent that they knew each other well and that everything was a competition between them and their soldier-versus-spy mentalities. Serilda wanted to cut straight through any problem she encountered, while Xenia preferred to knock the legs out from under her enemies first before she went in for the kill.

  “I agree with Serilda,” Cho said. “Sneaking into the palace is still our best bet.”

  Paloma and Sullivan joined in the conversation too, but I kept quiet.

  I knew how we could get close enough for me to challenge Vasilia. I had known the answer for weeks now, ever since we had started dreaming up this crazy plan, although I hadn’t said anything. I stared at the acrobats, wire walkers, and gladiators again.

  I hadn’t wanted anyone to sacrifice their lives for me.

  But Vasilia’s coronation was only about a month away now, and we were running out of time. Once she was formall
y crowned queen, she would declare war on Andvari, and there would be no stopping her.

  So, with a heavy heart, I dropped the curtain and faced the others. “The coronation. That’s how we get into the palace, and that’s how we get close to Vasilia.”

  Paloma frowned. “But all sorts of nobles, senators, and guilders are supposed to attend. There will be more guards than ever. We can’t sneak past all of them.”

  I shook my head. “We won’t have to sneak past any of them. Vasilia will invite us.”

  “And why would she do that?” Sullivan asked.

  “Because she will be absolutely delighted to have the Black Swan troupe perform at her coronation.”

  Silence fell over the room as the others absorbed my words.

  “Think about it,” I said. “Vasilia wants Serilda and Cho dead for working with Cordelia. She’s already tried to kill them once. And not just them, but the whole troupe, anyone who could possibly be a threat.”

  “So?” Xenia asked.

  “So she’ll try again. Her weather magier never reported back, so she knows that he failed, and that Serilda is still alive. So let’s give her exactly what she wants—the entire troupe at her coronation. Vasilia will think that we’re walking right into her trap. She’ll never suspect that we have a trap of our own planned.”

  “And how do you know that she won’t slaughter us the second that we walk into the palace?” Sullivan asked.

  I gave him a grim smile. “Because I know my dear cousin better than anyone. She’ll want the troupe to perform before she orders her guards to kill us. Vasilia likes to play with her food before she eats it.”

  Silence fell over the room again as everyone thought about my plan.

  “It could work,” Xenia said. “Vasilia has invited several troupes to the coronation, but none as prestigious or well-known as the Black Swan.”

  Serilda snorted. “Evie’s right. Vasilia will leap at the chance to have us perform before she tries to kill all of us.”

  “Yes,” I said in a low voice. “That’s the problem. All of you.”

  Sullivan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re worried about everyone.”

  “Yes. Vasilia won’t settle for anything less. She’ll want the entire troupe there so she can murder us all at once.” Worry twisted my stomach. “Even if I challenge her, even if I kill her, we don’t know what might happen afterward. There could be casualties.”

  I didn’t mention what would happen if I didn’t win—that we would all be summarily executed, starting with me.

  “We owe you our lives,” Cho pointed out. “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it wasn’t for you. We would have died in that storm if you hadn’t tracked down the magier.”

  “Or the Ungers would have killed us,” Serilda added, throwing a nasty look at Xenia.

  I rubbed my aching head. “But that doesn’t give me the right to ask the rest of the troupe to do this. To potentially die for me. They didn’t ask to be part of this. None of you asked to be part of this.”

  “And you didn’t ask to be part of the massacre,” Xenia said. “We all make the best choices that we can; we all do the best that we can.”

  “Besides,” Serilda said, a dark note in her voice. “If we don’t do this, if you don’t do this, thousands more will die. I’ve seen it with my magic, such as it is.”

  “I know all that, but it still doesn’t make it right, or ease my guilt.”

  “We’re your friends, Evie. That means that your problems are our problems too.” Paloma shrugged, and a wry grin curved her lips. “Your problems just happen to involve the fate of kingdoms.”

  I snorted, but I flashed her a grateful smile.

  The others gathered around the maps and continued their plotting. I returned to the window, pushed the curtain back, and peered at the courtyard again. Everything was the same as before. Acrobats tumbling, wire walkers balancing, gladiators drilling. Yes, everything was the same, right down to the guilt and dread twisting my stomach.

  Using the Black Swan troupe was the only chance I had of getting close enough to challenge Vasilia, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many people I was leading to their deaths.

  * * *

  That night at dinner, Serilda told everyone that we were packing up and returning to Bellona in a few days. She had barely sat back down before Xenia got to her feet and announced that the Ungers would be hosting a ball to give us a proper send-off. Naturally, everyone was more excited about the party than the packing, and Xenia shot Serilda a triumphant smile. Always a competition between those two.

  The next few days passed by quickly, and the night of the party arrived. Xenia had opened up the castle’s grand ballroom, and Paloma and I stood by the entrance.

  The ballroom was a large area with a second-floor balcony that wrapped around it, but instead of common flagstones, the floor here was made of pale gray marble that gleamed like a sheet of glass. Even the ogre faces set into the stone were as smooth and shiny as mirrors. The gray marble continued up the walls before giving way to a lovely forested fresco that stretched across the ceiling a hundred feet overhead. Several chandeliers, their crystals shaped like ogre heads, dangled down from the ceiling, bathing the ballroom in soft light.

  Several tables had been set up against one wall, each one boasting an impressive spread of food and drinks. My gaze locked onto one of the dessert tables, which featured everything from tiny chocolate petits fours to strawberry tarts to towers made of apple strudels that were held together with thick ribbons of vanilla icing. I wished that Isobel was here. She would have loved seeing the desserts that the Ungerian cook masters had created.

  Paloma and I were among the last to arrive, and everyone was already talking, laughing, drinking, and eating. The musicians who had performed during my training sessions were sitting on a raised dais in the corner, playing waltzes, reels, and other tunes, although no one was dancing yet.

  I scanned the crowd. Cho was at a dessert table, tasting and debating the merits of the various delicacies with Bjarni. Serilda and Xenia were standing near the musicians, sipping brandy and probably trying to outdo each other with their biting comments. Theroux, Aisha, and the other troupe members were mixing and mingling with the Ungers, and everyone looked relaxed and happy.

  Paloma nudged me with her elbow. “Lucas is in the corner.”

  I tensed. “I wasn’t looking for him.”

  “Of course you weren’t.”

  My gaze zoomed in that direction. Sullivan was sipping brandy and talking with the Ungers. He was wearing his gray coat over a black shirt, leggings, and boots. His dark brown hair gleamed under the lights, and his eyes crinkled as he smiled at something his companions said.

  We were leaving at dawn. From there, it would be a long, hard trip back to Bellona, and then a final bit of training and planning before Vasilia’s coronation. Tonight was the last free night that I would have for the foreseeable future. It might be the last free night that I would ever have, and I wanted to make the most of it.

  With him.

  I had never been in love. I had never let myself be in love. I knew that Vasilia would eventually destroy anything she realized I cared about, so I took great pains not to care about anything at all. Not people, not animals, not even a favorite dress or book or piece of jewelry. Isobel and Alvis had been the two exceptions, and I had only let myself care about them because I knew that Vasilia wouldn’t bother with two servants. They were even more below her notice than I was.

  But I had wanted to know what all the women giggled about, so when I was twenty, I had very discreetly and carefully seduced a visiting noble. I had done weeks of research, taken all the appropriate herbs, and studied the man’s every word and action for days after he had arrived at Seven Spire. Finally, when I felt confident that he had no ulterior motive other than whiling away an evening, I had slept with him.

  He hadn’t been Prince Charming, and he certainly hadn’t set my heart—or any other part of me—aflu
tter, but he had been nice and skilled enough. Truth be told, I had been rather disappointed with the whole process. A year later, I had tried again with a different visiting noble to the same mediocre results, and I hadn’t been tempted to do it again since then.

  Until Sullivan.

  I didn’t love Sullivan, but I wasn’t immune to him either. Far from it. Physically, he was tall, strong, and handsome, as were many men in the troupe, but something about his hair, eyes, features, and scent intrigued me in a way that no one else ever had before. And he touched and challenged my emotions just like he challenged me in the training ring. Sullivan made me feel all sorts of things—anger, annoyance, care, concern, desire.

  And now I was finally going to do something about my brewing feelings.

  Ever since the massacre, I had been fighting. To stay alive. To find some way to stop Vasilia. To figure out who I was and what I was supposed to do.

  Tomorrow, I would return to Bellona for perhaps the final fight of my life. But tonight, I didn’t want to fight. No, tonight, I wanted to lose myself in this current that continually sparked and snapped between Sullivan and me. I wanted something that was mine and mine alone, and not done out of necessity or duty.

  I wanted him.

  Sullivan must have sensed my stare because he looked in my direction. Our gazes locked and held across the ballroom. This was my moment. I drew in a breath and headed toward him—

  Halvar stepped in front of me, blocking my path. He smiled and held out his hand. “Hello, Evie. May I have this dance?”

  I looked past him, but Sullivan had vanished. I glanced around the ballroom, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

  Halvar frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  “Of course not. I would be honored to dance with you.”

  I forced myself to smile and put my hand in Halvar’s. He grinned and led me onto the dance floor.

  My earlier performance of the Tanzen Freund had had a far more profound effect than I’d realized, because every single Unger wanted to dance with me. Men, women, even the children. I whirled from one partner to the next, from one section of the ballroom to the opposite side and back again, from waltz to reel to quickstep. Whenever I got a chance, I looked for Sullivan, but I didn’t see him anywhere.