by Jeff Wheeler
The girl stole in quietly, walking with exaggerated slowness over to Sera’s writing desk where she kept her books. There was something in Becka’s hand—a folded note. Sera observed the girl tread softly, her bare feet not making a sound on the rug. Becka went to the table, carefully lifted one of the books, and slid the note underneath it. A little rasp from the paper was the only sound.
Sera slowly eased herself up to a sitting position, careful not to make a sound. After a moment of pondering what to do next, Sera waited until the girl was halfway to the door. The note had been left. If the girl ran, at least Sera had that.
“Becka,” she whispered.
The maid stifled an audible “Eeeep!” with her hand and froze. Sera quickly rose from the bed and hurried to the door, blocking it. The maid trembled violently.
With her back to the door, Sera felt with her hands and shut it all the way. There was a muted thump and the clicking of the latch.
“I’m sorry, miss, I’m sorry, miss,” Becka stammered worriedly. “I shouldn’t have crept in like that. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be frightened,” Sera said, trying to calm her. “I’m glad you came.”
“Please let me go. If I’m caught in here . . .” Her voice broke as she started to cry.
Sera’s heart ached for the girl. She wanted to relieve her suffering, but she also had to know what she had seen.
“It’s very late, isn’t it?” Sera said, coming closer. She put a hand on her thin shoulder. “No one else is awake?”
“No one, miss,” Becka said through her tears. “I couldn’t sleep. Not after I didn’t come. I just couldn’t do it, miss.”
“I know you’re scared, Becka. You’ve been carrying an awful secret, haven’t you?”
The girl stared at Sera’s face and nodded miserably.
Sera glanced around the dark room. With the room so dark, the Leerings wouldn’t be able to see them very well. Still, there was a better place to hide. A safer place.
“Let’s go inside the wardrobe. It’s big enough to fit us both. Then we can talk. Would you do that for me?”
Becka bit her lip and looked nervously at the door. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“I know. Sometimes we must be brave, though. We’re both prisoners here, Becka. But maybe we can be friends.”
“Friends?” said the girl in astonishment.
“My best friend is from the Fells,” Sera said. “You’re not from there, are you?”
“No, Miss Fitzempress. I’m from the City. M-my mother serves Lady Kimball.”
Sera knew the name and the woman’s daughter. No wonder Becka was so terrified to lose her position. To do so would no doubt endanger her mother’s livelihood as well.
“To the wardrobe, then? No one can hear us in there.”
Becka looked nervously at the door again, wringing her hands. But she nodded and followed Sera to the massive wardrobe. Sera moved aside the dresses on the hangers and made a space for the two of them to sit on the floor, the fabric draping over their shoulders. She could hear the little maid’s worried breathing in the darkness. The floor of the wardrobe was planked in cedar, providing a soothing smell.
“There, that’s better,” Sera said. “Why didn’t you come after dinner?”
“I w-was too scared, miss,” she replied with shame. “If someone saw us . . . We’ve all been strictly forbidden to talk to you. I’m-I’m breaking the rules right now.”
“I know, Becka,” Sera said, touching the girl’s arm. “This is very important, though. Tell me what you saw.”
“But if she found out,” Becka moaned. “I don’t want it to happen to me.”
“What to happen?” The girl was utterly terrified. Sera could hear her teeth rattling as she trembled.
“He was pushed off, miss. Off. He was found on the beach, but he fell from the gardens, not from the zephyr like they told us.”
“The young advocate?”
“Yes,” Becka said with a shudder in her voice. “Mistress has a man who works for her. One who comes in secret. He looks so angry, so fierce. He’s got a scar on his cheek. I’ve seen him before when I’ve gone to clean her room. He scares me, miss.”
The news sent a flash of heat through Sera’s chest. The girl’s description sounded like the kishion who had tried to abduct Cettie at Muirwood. The one whose actions had led to the war. Could he really be working for Lady Corinne? This was damaging news, indeed. It would rock Pavenham Sky to its core. No, it would rock the empire to its core. Sera felt a throb of emotion, mostly revenge, but she tamped it down.
“I’ve heard of this man,” Sera said. “I’ve not seen him at the manor.”
“He comes and goes,” Becka says. “There was a storm that night. I was in the garden watching . . . watching the lightning. It was so bright. I heard them coming and hid myself. I wasn’t supposed to be out there. No one saw me. But the young man, he was being taken by force. The man . . . the man who came from darkness . . . he had him by the neck and arm. I watched them leave, watched them go past my dark patch of trees. I was so frightened, I couldn’t move.” She sniffed and started to weep softly again.
Sera rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, imagining the terror the young maid had experienced. She couldn’t be more than twelve, an age Sera remembered well. That was the year she’d first met Will and had become entangled in the politics of the empire. Even then, Lady Corinne had been scheming against her.
“How do you know he was pushed?” Sera asked after the sobs had subsided.
Becka sniffled. “I’m sorry, miss. Sorry to cry. I’ve been so scared. There was no one I could tell. Who would believe me? I was still hiding when the dark man returned. He came back alone, and I heard him mutter that one problem had been solved and now it was time to get rid of the zephyr. I knew the young man had come by zephyr. She had them both killed, miss. The advocate and the pilot. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what to do. It’s eating away at my heart, but if I tell anyone else, they’ll throw me off the manor too, won’t they? I-I don’t think I could bear that.”
“Sshhhh,” Sera soothed, rubbing her shoulder. Not only did she want revenge for her own sake, but for the girl’s as well. If the privy council learned of this deed, they would have to investigate it. But Lady Corinne was on the privy council, and Sera’s father, the emperor, had some sort of sick fixation with her. Sera couldn’t accuse her in front of everyone. And what would happen to Becka? If the mistress of Pavenham Sky had the merest inkling her maid had been a witness, there was no doubt in Sera’s mind that Becka’s life would not be worth salt.
Sera hooked her hand around Becka’s neck and pulled her close, hugging her. The little maid sniffled and trembled in her arms. Sera’s heart ached with compassion for the girl. After the tide of emotions relented, Sera took her hands.
“I promise you, Becka, that I won’t do anything about this until I am certain you will be safe. I won’t tell anyone unless they have my absolute trust. What she did was very wrong. It was wicked. That young man and I went to school together. He didn’t deserve to die and especially not in that terrible way. We must part, but I will do my best to see you are brought to safety. I wish I could keep you with me as my maid, but that would make Lady Corinne suspicious.”
“But you can, miss,” said Becka hopefully. “That’s why I came with the note. Before we left Pavenham Sky, Master Sewell asked the maids if one of us would volunteer to work with you. He said that you might be going to another world for a time. He said the lady would be very grateful to have one of us go with you and serve you. No one wanted to go. Even as a favor to the lady.”
“Did you volunteer, sweet Becka?” Sera gasped in surprise, a feeling of relief flooding her.
“I . . . I did, Miss Fitzempress. I’ve been wanting to tell you. I’m not supposed to. Not yet anyway.”
Sera squeezed the girl’s hands again. This was beyond all odds, beyond coincidence. The Mysteries were more powerful than she had yet imagine
d. Her heart throbbed with gratitude.
“I would like that, Becka,” Sera said, feeling tears in her own throat. “I would like that very much.”
The note Becka had left on the desk revealed nothing of Mr. Skrelling’s murder. It only informed her of the new arrangement. When the two girls served her the next morning, Becka shot her a grateful look, but she was solemn in her appearance, not giving away any indication that they’d spent part of the night together hidden in the cedar-lined wardrobe.
They helped Sera dress for her appointment with the privy council. Her hair was braided and coiffed and fastened with pins. Sera gazed at herself in the mirror, marveling at how calm and tranquil she looked on the outside. Her thoughts, on the other hand, were fierce and determined. She would bring about Lady Corinne’s downfall. Whatever it took to achieve it.
At breakfast, Lady Corinne looked as she always did, resplendent in the latest fashions, her air mysterious and thoughtful. But Sera couldn’t help but see her differently now. She’d always thought the lady a spider, yes, but now she saw her as a woman who would do anything to keep her power. What message had Mr. Skrelling brought that had cost him his life? What secret had been thrown off a floating manor to perish in the sea?
After the meal, she and the lady were given cloaks to protect them from the rain and escorted to the Lawtons’ tempest, which would bring them to court. The wind raged against them, pelting them with rain as they walked. After boarding the tempest, Sera settled into her stateroom. She normally liked walking the deck and enjoying the view, but not in such foul weather.
Upon reaching their destination, Lady Corinne sauntered immediately into the meeting room, and Sera watched bitterly as her father stared at the stylish woman with undisguised hunger. The door shut behind them, and Master Sewell waited with Sera for her turn to speak to the privy council.
“You may as well stop pacing and sit down,” Master Sewell said archly. “They will be in there a while before it’s your turn.”
“I’m nervous, Master Sewell, is that so surprising?”
“No, it’s appropriate, ma’am. I was just advising you, that’s all.”
“Thank you for your advice. Do you really think that they will send me to Kingfountain?”
“I have no special insight, ma’am. But it would serve political expedience. Anything to stop this war. We are all weary of it.”
Sera paused in her pacing to scrutinize him. “Would you give up your country and your beliefs, Master Sewell, to end it?”
He pursed his lips. “We all must make sacrifices, ma’am.”
“The ancients used to sacrifice animals,” Sera said with a tone of mockery. “Now I have compassion for the poor beasts. If I go, if I become their queen, then I will not be able to be my father’s heir.”
Sewell clasped his hands behind his back and leaned against the wall. “That may be the point, ma’am,” he said.
There were things she liked about Master Sewell. He was charming, diligent, conscientious. Was he part of the plot or an unwitting servant? Did it even matter? Sera was nineteen and eligible to be heir. But she was no longer naïve.
Lady Corinne’s ambitions had not yet been satisfied. There was a reason she’d cultivated a relationship with Sera’s father. Perhaps there was a larger game afoot—one that would only end when Lady Corinne ruled everyone.
It was several hours later when the doors to the privy council opened. There was much noise and conversation going on inside. She saw the prime minister, Lord Welles, on his perch of power, vain as a peacock. She abhorred the man. Her father looked pasty and ill, but he was in a jovial mood and sipped from a chalice. And Lady Corinne sat next to him, adjacent to the seat of power. There was no sign of Lord Fitzroy.
So, her three enemies were assembled against her.
Sera strode into the chamber, adopting an air of submission and meekness. But in her heart, she vowed to bring all three of them crashing down.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ANATHEMA
It was the first time Sera had faced the full privy council since her disgrace. She knew they would judge her by her appearance, her demeanor, and most importantly, her words. She recognized most of the faces as she walked in and was led to a seat. It wasn’t beside her father, a place she might go if she were the heir presumptive. Instead, she was brought to a stuffed chair near the Minister of Thought and the Minister of Law. Although she recognized some of the ladies on the council, others had changed, and they had the haughty looks of women who were Lady Corinne’s set. Those women scrutinized her, concealing their disdain mostly—except for their eyes.
When Sera sat down, she felt her feet graze the floor and felt slightly better that she’d grown at least a little bit since her last encounter there. Inside she was seething with emotions, from the desire to repudiate the people who had entrapped her. Surely some of them expected this. She was on display for all to see. Well, let them.
“Thank you for joining us, Your Highness,” said Lord Welles, the prime minister. Gone was the familiarity, the warmth that had made her trust him. He was civil, but cautious, as if she might suddenly bite him.
She nodded to him and said nothing. One of Lady Corinne’s tricks.
“It has been several years since you have been before the privy council,” Welles continued. “I think there is hope, from many of us, that you have learned the importance of propriety in our society.”
He was giving her a chance to rebel. Tempting her even. She didn’t rise to snatch at the bait.
“I have indeed,” Sera replied in a humble voice. She even lowered her gaze. That would be a nice touch.
A few murmurs came from the assembled council. Was it approval? Surprise? It was difficult to tell.
“We trust that you have,” Welles said. “A three-year exile may feel long to so young a person as yourself. But Lady Corinne has expressed her confidence to the council that you are . . . rehabilitated. You’ve caused no further scandal, and the people, well, the commoners are quite forgiving. It seems you’re more popular than ever these days.”
Sera almost flinched, but she remained cool and dispassionate. “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said in a soft voice. “I know very little about what is going on in the empire.”
“As is understandable given your circumstances. But events are what brings you before us today. Your Majesty, if you would?”
It was Father’s turn now. Sera found her insides twisting with anger, but she shielded all emotion from her face. Her father had gained even more weight, and his hair was thinning and gray. He looked awful, but he was still her father, and his eyes were still full of malice. He looked as uncomfortable as Sera felt.
“Yes, yes, Welles, I suppose we should get on with it. You are still quite popular with the masses, as Welles alluded to. Even after all you’ve done.”
Sera felt her cheeks start to sizzle. She wouldn’t meet his contempt with a surge of rebellion.
“Yes, after all you’ve done,” he repeated for emphasis. “Well, the people aren’t known for their wisdom or their discretion. We’ve been at war with Kingfountain for three years now. Surely you did know that?”
“Indeed,” Sera replied simply.
“Good. It’s run up a huge toll in lives. Thankfully, Lord Fitzroy has been able to deduce their attacks before they’ve come. It’s uncanny really. They call him Fitzroy Harbinger. He’s been able to hold off their encroachments, and we’ve managed to retake cities lost to the hollow crown. This conflict has bled both sides in coin and youth. Fitzroy feels that if the next attack doesn’t prove decisive, there may be an opportunity to negotiate an armistice. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sera answered. She almost called him Father, but she knew how that provoked him.
“Good. Then I don’t need to explain it to you. The privy council believes that the court of Kingfountain may still be open to a marriage alliance and a trade of technologies. Some think that this co
nflict stems from their distrust of what we’ve accomplished, especially in the realm of the Ministry of Wind. The council is considering whether to send you as a peace ambassador to the court of Kingfountain to negotiate the armistice. Our intelligence suggests that the prince was rather taken with you during his brief sojourn among us. You impressed him, Seraphin. If you could broker a peace between our worlds, it would do much to heal the rift between us.”
Sera looked up at him, soaking in the hope in his expression. He seemed taken aback by her humbled demeanor. Did he trust his eyes? Inside, she was roiling.
“If I can be of service to the empire,” she said.
Father’s eyebrows arched at her response. “Surely, you must understand that the prince may require a marriage alliance as part of the negotiation,” he said hesitantly. “Although our worlds share a common belief in the Knowing, our interpretation is much more . . . accommodating than theirs. You may be asked to submit to the water rite.”
The Minister of Thought, Allanom Scott, reached out and patted her arm with his gloved hand. “We’ve spoken of this before, my dear, and you’ve had some time to reflect on it. The council would not wish you to act against your conscience. You may not be required to renounce your beliefs, but if the prince insists that you adopt the customs of his less civilized realm, would you be prepared, ahem, to do so?”
All eyes were on her. If she said no, then she would not be given the chance to be an ambassador. She didn’t want to renounce her beliefs or her right to be considered an heir of the empire. But if she refused this mission, where would they put her next? Would they marry her off to some lord of their choosing? Perhaps even someone old and decrepit? She, too, had thought highly of the prince, and there was no denying she was curious about his world. This might be her best, or only, chance of influencing what happened to her. At the moment, she felt it was appropriate that her conscience should appear flexible.
“I would, High Seer,” she answered firmly. “It would be a sacrifice. But so many have already sacrificed for the empire. So many have died. If there is a chance to stop more widows from grieving, more sisters weeping for dead brothers, then we must take that chance.” She sighed and bowed her head. “I will do what I must.”
