An Imposter with a Crown

by Jordan Rivet

  “Lord Ober will create more fighters.”

  “And if he doesn’t? You will have destroyed the empire for nothing.”

  Mica felt that lingering question again, the final puzzle piece dangling just out of reach. She didn’t believe Ober’s help had been freely given, but why, why had he chosen this band of bearded rebels?

  “Ober wouldn’t want to lose to the Obsidians either.” Wildson was looking unsettled, as if he’d lost control of the discussion or he wasn’t as certain of their benefactor as he claimed.

  “No, but would he do all this just so he can rule the tiny independent nation of Timbral?” She frowned, looking at this desolate mountain tower, these desperate mountain men. “He is an ambitious man who once had the ear of the emperor himself. Even if the Obsidians were not advancing, do you really think he would allow you to remain independent of him?”

  “She makes a good point,” Caleb put in. “Dwindlemire and Cray offer a perfect strategic opportunity for Ober. He could control the waters around Timbral, and there is little you could do to stop him with unlimited Fifth Talents at his beck and call. Do you trust him that far?”

  Wildson’s men were whispering to each other, and Mica picked up on a strain of something. Anxiety spiked in her chest, and her pulse began to race.

  “Where is Lord Ober now?”

  Feet shifted on the mountain path, and gazes darted from side to side. No one wanted to answer, as if they sensed that something was wrong, something that worried them too.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he?” Mica said.

  “Aye.” Danil’s father was the one to speak up. “He left as soon as our Blur scouts confirmed you were on your way.”

  “Without telling you where he was going?”

  “We assumed he didn’t want Lord Bont to see him with us, but he could—”

  “Wait, I need to think.” Mica flung up a hand to silence them, mulling over this information. She felt the pieces coming together, disparate features contorting to form a recognizable face. Ober had strung these men along, promising them Fifth Talents in exchange for their help, while only actually transforming a handful of them. He had claimed to share their desire for independence, but that would give him less influence than he’d had before. He wouldn’t be content with just Timbral.

  Dread spooled and spun within her.

  He wouldn’t be content with just Timbral, the Twins, and the Pebble Islands, either.

  Ober wanted the Windfast Empire.

  And he had departed Birdfell as soon as he learned that Jessamyn’s Mimic had left her behind in Silverfell City.

  Mica seized Caleb’s arm. “We need to go back.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We need to return to the city at once.” She turned to Wildson, Fair, and the other rebels. “Lord Ober plans to betray you. You don’t have to agree with me, but I swear to you that the princess and the emperor wish to hear your concerns. You are right that I’m really Mica Graydier.” Her eyes flashed hazel, and the red faded from her hair. “You are also right that there has been too much subterfuge, scheming, and corruption in this empire. It is time we put an end to it.”

  “Hear! Hear!” one of the men called.

  Caleb caught her eye and nodded. They were united in this. Maybe they could heal the split in the empire after all.

  “Emperor Styl will negotiate with you,” she said. “He sent his daughter out to the western islands to do exactly that, knowing war was brewing, because he does care for the needs of his people. Ober will use your genuine concerns for his own ends. He will take the very bones of your Talents if it gives him more power.” She looked at Fair, remembering the tide of horror that had risen within her when she realized Danil’s foot had been chopped off. “You have seen it yourselves.” She turned to Ed. “You have to stand up to him and say you won’t accept his methods.”

  Ed’s face flowed out of shape, again becoming wrinkled and freckled like Tallisa’s. Mica held her breath, praying he too had been moved by her story.

  Then his own features returned, and he nodded.

  “I agree with the lady,” Ed said to his comrades. “Wildson, you should have seen it. There’s evil out there, and we’re in bed with it.”

  Wildson was still for a moment. Then he turned to his companions to exchange a few quiet words.

  Mica clutched her reins so hard it hurt as she waited for his answer. She was certain of one thing: Ober was going after Jessamyn. These men had served their purpose, and he had set his sights on a bigger prize.

  She found herself staring at the barren fortress she had come so far to find, at the pools hiding their abominable contents beneath mirrored surfaces. She dreaded to think how many of his own loyal men Ober had already drowned in those pools, how many members of this new and deadly force were now speeding toward Silverfell City. There was no way Ober had done all this only for the independence of his island. He wanted it all.

  The flock of birds swarmed around the ramparts of the tower, cawing at the people who’d disturbed their roosts. The wind hummed against the grim walls. Mica had found the barren fortress, but she didn’t think she even had time to go inside.

  At last, Wildson spoke, his voice ringing over the mountainside. “If the emperor is open to talking, then so are we.”

  Mica’s shoulders sagged. “Good. We’ll make this right, but trusting Lord Ober isn’t the way.” She lifted her reins, eager to fly back down the mountain once more. “I have to return to the city. Will some of you accompany me? You can meet with the real Princess Jessamyn face to face, and you’ll see why she has been using me to speak for her.” She surveyed her companions briefly. “Perhaps Lord Fritz and Lady Lorna can remain here with you as a gesture of good faith.”

  Fritz agreed at once, looking ready to dash off to the tower before the negotiations even concluded. The rebels talked amongst themselves again to decide whom to send back down the mountain.

  Mica leaned in closer to Caleb.

  “Is stopping Ober still our number-one priority, no matter whose side our families are on?”

  “Always.”

  “Good.”

  Mica remembered her fear that Lord Ober had used the potion on himself. Were they already too late? Her horse snorted and stamped, and she forced herself to loosen her death grip on the reins.

  “I understand you are anxious to depart, Miss Graydier,” Wildson said at last. “Two of our comrades will accompany you back to Silverfell. We’ll send Fifth Talents, as you call them.”

  “I’ll be going back with you,” Ed said, “seeing as how we’re friends.”

  “I am glad of your company,” Mica said. “We must hurry. Is my brother well enough to travel?”

  “He should rest a little longer,” Wildson said evenly. “He will be safe here.”

  Mica nodded in understanding. The rebels wouldn’t let go of their leverage over her so easily. “How bad are his injuries?”

  “They were grave,” Fair said, “but the potioner gave him something that helped.”

  Mica frowned. “The potioner?”

  “Yes, she’s an exceptionally good one from Jewel Harbor who was already here at Birdfell when we arrived a few weeks ago. Under her ministrations, your brother should make a full—”

  “Is it Quinn, from Talon?”

  “That’s right.” Fair tipped his head to the side, and the movement reminded her strongly of Danil. “How did you know?”

  “We’ve met.” Mica hesitated. They didn’t have much time, but she needed to know if Ober himself had used the potion. “May I speak with her?”

  “I’m afraid she left with Lord Ober,” Fair said.

  Mica grimaced. “Then it is more important than ever that we return to Silverfell.”

  “Wait!” A young girl was hurrying up the path from Birdfell toward them, carrying a small leather-bound box. “You need to get there quickly, right? The potioner left something behind that might help.”

  Mica recogn
ized Danil’s little sister, Lucy Fairdier, who shared his merry face and curly hair. If she was here, Mica couldn’t help wondering if Danil and Sapphire knew what had been going on with the rebels too. It had been a long time since she had seen her friends, and it wouldn’t surprise her to learn they had joined this cause.

  Lucy reached them, panting from her run, and opened the leather-bound box. A set of bloodred potion bottles nestled inside. Mica recognized Quinn’s signature products at once.

  “These will give someone Blur speed temporarily with no side effects,” Danil’s sister said. “They’ll get you back to Silverfell City.”

  “Thank you.” Mica caught Caleb’s eye. “I’ve always wanted to be a Blur.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The sensation was unlike anything Mica had ever experienced. The wind whipped against her face, as cold and sharp as a dagger. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground, and she felt as if she were falling rather than running. She didn’t feel remotely in control, and only sheer luck kept her from tripping at the wrong moment and tumbling to her death. The experience was exhilarating and terrifying, and Mica could see why people paid so much to try it.

  Despite the potion-induced speed, Mica still felt as if they were going too slowly. Lord Ober had specifically waited until she and Caleb left the city to set his plans in motion—and he had brought his potioner with him. The two of them were capable of doing a lot of damage. They couldn’t be allowed to reach the princess.

  The rebels hadn’t known exactly how many Fifth Talents Ober took with him when he left Birdfell, but they believed the number was close to a hundred. That would be more than enough to take control of the city. On the other hand, if military occupation were his aim, he wouldn’t have waited for Mica and Caleb to leave. He must have another scheme in mind.

  Mica pushed herself to run faster, shortening her own hair so it wouldn’t impede her vision. Caleb and the two Fifth Talents kept pace beside her, but they didn’t have much time to talk. The wind whistled in their ears as they ran, stealing their words.

  Ed and the second Fifth Talent—a younger man named Krake who was far too handsome for his looks to be natural—didn’t need Quinn’s potion. Caleb took some in an effort to hold off the side effects of his own condition. The artificial Blur speed didn’t give Mica and Caleb endless stamina, and they occasionally had to slow down to rest or take more of the potion.

  Still, they made excellent time, passing the turn-off to Dustwood, the campsite where they’d slept, then the bridge over the ravine. The journey flashed by, their newfound speed making a mockery of their three-day ride to Birdfell. The cold was their constant companion, and before long, the mists rose up to welcome them back.

  They reached the ridge overlooking Silverfell City as darkness fell on the very same day they had awoken in Dustwood. Krake waited under the shelter of the trees, while Mica, Caleb, and Ed crawled forward on their bellies to assess the situation below.

  Mica worked to slow her breathing and calm her racing heartbeat. The rocks were sharp beneath her elbows as she peered down at the wide avenues, marble walls, and shimmering tile roofs of Silverfell City.

  “There are more ships than there were three days ago,” Caleb said, his attention on the bowl-shaped harbor. “More wedding guests?”

  Mica snorted. “Too bad the bride and groom are both missing.”

  “The nobles probably wanted to get as far from the Obsidian invaders as they could,” Caleb said. “But I’ll bet a lot of ordinary traders are seeking shelter here too.”

  Ed stroked his beard, which was currently red and wiry. A few pine needles had gotten caught in it during their run.

  “A lot of powerful people in that city right now,” he muttered.

  “Do you think Ober will attack it?” Mica asked.

  Ed shrugged, his nose briefly taking on Ober’s prominent shape. But Caleb shook his head.

  “No. Take a look at that center mooring. Recognize anything?”

  Mica squinted at the harbor, where the last of the evening light sparked across the water. Lanterns were coming on along the waterfront, casting strange shadows across the decks of the ships. She leaned closer to Caleb so she could follow his line of sight to a familiar vessel. A beautiful woman trimmed in gold graced her prow.

  “It’s the Silk Goddess.”

  “One and the same.”

  A few people moved on the deck of the Goddess, but Mica couldn’t see them well enough to say whether or not she knew them. The HIMS Arrow rested at its own mooring farther down the dock, undisturbed by the return of its erstwhile traveling companion.

  “So Ober sailed here openly?”

  “Remember most people don’t know about his crimes.”

  Mica grimaced. “Jessamyn saw to that.”

  “Also, we know he’s the rebels’ benefactor, but no one else does.” Caleb scrubbed a hand through his tousled hair. “Lord Bont probably invited him to the wedding.”

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  The wind stirred, carrying the briny smell of the ocean up to their vantage point. Lights had begun to come on around the city, candles burning in a hundred costly windows. All evidence of the attack on the harbor a few days past was gone. It certainly didn’t look like a city at war.

  They retreated from the ridge to discuss their next move in the shelter of the trees, brushing little stones from their clothes.

  “So what’s the plan?” Krake asked.

  “We have to approach carefully,” Caleb said. “My uncle has been here for at least a day, probably with a bunch of Fifth Talent retainers, and we don’t know what traps he may have set in that time.”

  “No breaking down Lord Bont’s door, then?” Ed took on the corpulent lord’s shape for a moment. He really did have a knack for impersonation. “A pity.”

  “The most important thing is to get to Jessamyn,” Mica said. “I think it’s best if I sneak in and see what the situation is before we make any plans.”

  Caleb shook his head. “You can’t go alone.”

  “It’ll be easier if I do.”

  “If you have to fight—”

  “Then I’ll fight.” Mica flicked a knife out from under her sleeve. The other was strapped to her ankle. She might not be the best fighter among them, but these blades had drawn blood before. “It has to be me. I’m the only Mimic Jessamyn will trust.”

  Caleb looked at their companions, as if seeking a reason to contradict her. Ed and Krake the Handsome could do a lot of damage, but they’d be less effective in speaking to the princess—if they could even find her in the large manor. His own abilities weren’t reliable enough to get him to the princess’s side either, and Ober would probably be watching for him. Caleb’s brow furrowed as it became clear to him that Mica was right. It had to be her.

  “Maybe we can create a diversion,” he said. “Pick a fight with the local watch or something.”

  “That would only alert Ober that something’s going on. I can be invisible.” Mica squeezed his hand. “You have to trust me.”

  “That’s not the issue,” Caleb said obstinately. “He could have control of the manor already, with a hundred Fifth Talents at his back. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Mica smiled gently at him, then she contorted her face to another one altogether. Freckles spread across her cheeks, her hair brushed her shoulders, turning as black as jet, and her eyes became large and fierce.

  “I won’t even be there.”

  Caleb studied her impersonation, conflict in his deep-blue eyes. For a moment, she thought he was going to keep arguing. Then he sighed.

  “All right, Mica. See if you can talk to Jessa, but don’t let anyone else see you.”

  Mica rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek, not caring that the two Fifth Talents were watching.

  “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  * * *

  Mica crept into Silverfell City under cover of darkness. The face she wore was one of her regula
r impersonations, the “city woman” she had developed when she first moved to Jewel Harbor. The look was unassuming, not pretty or unusual enough to stick in anyone’s memory. Fortunately, she still wore the embroidered riding clothes Lord Bont had provided, so she could pass easily for a Silverfell resident. Flitting unnoticed through the broad streets was easy, but she was nervous about getting into the manor.

  I doubt I can walk in through the front gate.

  She was wrong on that count, to her great surprise. It was still early in the evening, and Lord Bont’s home bustled with activity. Servants dashed about the grounds, attending to the many lords and ladies staying in the manor, and no one paid any heed to one more woman slipping inside the marble walls. Mica looked like just another maid hurrying across the garden to do her lady’s bidding.

  She picked up snippets of conversation as she traversed the grounds, hoping to find out what had happened while she was in Birdfell. The manor certainly didn’t appear to have been taken over by a hundred invincible soldiers.

  Maybe we still have time.

  Most people Mica listened in on were still talking about the rebels and the raid on the harbor.

  “I hear they’re preparing another attack. They want to capture the whole island. Isn’t it mad?”

  Mica slowed, taking shelter behind a thorny hedge. The speaker was a young gardener with blemishes on her face and dirt under her nails. She was cutting roses from a bush and handing them to an older woman with pearly-white hair. Both women wore smocks with the Silverfell sigil, a silver rosebud crossed with a pickaxe.

  “Dwindlemire and Cray aren’t organized enough for that,” the older woman said, adding the latest rose to the bundle in her arms. “I wouldn’t lose sleep over it.”

  “It’s different this time,” the younger woman insisted.

  “They say it’s different every striking time.”

  “I don’t understand why they’re not happy to be part of the empire like the rest of us.”

  The older woman gave a sticky cough. “You’re young yet.”