I hadn’t really thought about it. “He’s old. He has to retire sometime, but I guess you’re right. There are lots of people much more...” I was going to say more qualified, but that seems rude. “Well, there are people...” I trail off, not wanting to say older either. I also don’t mention that I think it’s dumb to choose someone to run all the family’s non-military security interests based on how good they are at one-on-one combat. A lot of evian traditions don’t make sense to me, which is another reason I’d make a terrible empress.
“I know I’m too young and I’m inexperienced. Everyone’s thinking it, but none of them can beat me in here, and I doubt anyone else could defeat Balthasar either, no matter how old he is.”
“Can you?” I ask.
He smiles. “I can’t take over until I do, and I won’t challenge him until I’m sure.”
“I hadn’t thought much about it.”
“My point is, don’t feel too bad about losing to me.”
“You’re just that awesome?”
He grins ear-to-ear. “Something like that, Your Highness.”
“I thought we were past that?”
“My apologies. Chancery.”
The sound of my name coming from him warms my heart. “I should probably practice my aim, now that I’ve been beaten so soundly in hand-to-hand.”
“I think I should teach you a few moves first. Melodics or not, there are some sneaky holds and a few strikes you ought to know.”
He demonstrates several moves I mastered long ago. I repeat them anyway, pretending to pay attention. Finally, he shows me a pull and strike combo that would have broken his elbow if I’d used it earlier.
He grabs my arm. “Now, you show me—”
I execute it perfectly. He grunts and straightens, and I watch in awe as his elbow mends. He heals fast, much faster than me.
“You obviously already knew that one,” he says, “so why didn’t you do it earlier? When I struck you on the left.”
“I hate it.” I look at the springy black floor of the arena, unable to meet his eyes.
“That strike? Why?” He’s trying to meet my eye, but I’m too embarrassed.
“No, not that strike, just the noise.” I swallow.
“Wait, do you mean the sound of a bone breaking?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Yeah.”
“I heal too, you know. I may not be from Alamecha by birth, but Malessa’s not a bad family. It’s the second best in fact, although if you ever tell my sister I said that, I’ll deny it.” He grins.
His smile is so contagious I can’t help grinning back.
“I’m seventh generation just like you, and I can heal a broken bone in half a second.”
“Wait, you are?” I’m surprised. Seventh generation is pretty rare. I assumed he was eighth, son of Analessa, the Malessa family’s current queen.
“I was Senah’s last child. She died when I was three. I have few memories of her.”
“How do you remember her at all? Weren’t you sold at birth?”
Edam shakes his head. “Nope. My mother kept me, I guess because she’d gotten nostalgic, but my sister Analessa sold me after she died.”
“Wait, really?” Most empresses sell their sons, because if they don’t, other rulers won’t sell theirs to them. It’s sort of a quid pro quo. Each family wants to raise any possible consort for the new Heir themselves, to ensure loyalty, so they all sell any sons of the current queen to other families. Occasionally, if a queen had already sold quite a few boys, they’d decide to keep one. It happened more often at the end of their lives. I guess it makes sense. People get sentimental with age. Even so, the idea of being sold at the age of three horrifies me. He would have remembered every single thing about his family, and being sold would have felt like a major betrayal. Combine that with losing his mother and. . .
As if he can sense my horror, Edam says, “Your mother was kind, for what it’s worth. She met me at the funeral and when Analessa announced she was selling me, your mother brought me home personally. She clipped me in right next to her on the jet. I believe she had just lost your brother Moses.”
Mom told me once she meant to keep a son, but it was too hard because it reminded her of all the boys she had given up. She sold Moses when he was twenty-five days old.
“Kind of sucks your sister sold you. Your mom died and then you got dumped in a new family at the same time.”
He shrugs. “I hated her for a while, but I’m sure Analessa had her reasons.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not sorry to be here.” His eyes meet mine and I can’t breathe.
They’re so blue. And his jawline is criminally chiseled. Oxygen. I need oxygen. I force a breath in and then out of my lungs.
Edam nods, as if he’s been considering something and come to a conclusion about it. “Look, you hate hurting people and I get it. You want to fix everything and everyone, but I don’t need fixing.” He stares at me with something very much like a challenge in his intense, stormy eyes.
He’s not the one who needs fixing. “I’ve always hated causing pain.”
Edam doesn’t say anything else, but I’m sure he agrees with Judica that I’m weak, maybe even fatally flawed. He crosses the room to another cabinet and pulls out a simple slingshot, which he passes to me.
“Let’s work on your aim.”
He presses a button and the targets pop up across the room in varying places. The targets differ in size and height. He drops a bag full of irregularly shaped pebbles into my hand.
“Timed?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“On your mark then.” He claps three times and I start shooting. I hit the closest ones first and then fan out. I shoot the last one and drop my hand. “Done.”
He looks at the screen, reading impact, precision, and timing. He doesn’t say a word, but he makes me do the same thing with moving targets. Then he makes me try a more complicated slingshot, a bow, and finally a crossbow. I’m equally good with all of them. He reaches for a gun, but then he notices the time. “I guess we can practice with guns tomorrow.”
I try not to show the shiver of excitement that races through me when he says tomorrow. “Sure.”
“You’re amazing at that,” he says.
“I know. Forget Goliath, I’d have taken out most of his army too, right?”
He smiles because I may suck at hand-to-hand and I may hate hurting people, but I dominate all projectiles. I glance at my watch. Five minutes after eleven. I should get cleaned up.
“Well thanks,” I say. “It’s been interesting.”
Edam smiles at me. “That it has.”
Do not freak out. Do not race, heart. Do not. But it’s not lost on me that he’s not dating Judica anymore, and he’s smiling at me. Maybe it’s not awful if he hears my traitorous heart racing along a little bit. . .
I turn to go and snap my fingers at Cookie. I reach for the handle on the door before I realize she didn’t get up. She’s still asleep. Weird. I walk over to her and shake her a little.
Nothing.
It takes me several seconds to register the import of something I don’t hear. Something I’ve heard every day for seven years. I can’t hear her familiar heartbeat because it’s not beating. I was so distracted with Edam that I didn’t notice until just now. I crouch down and cradle Cookie’s head in my arms. My sweet little dog is dead. She was in perfect health this morning. She came on part of my run, ate as much as always, but... she was acting oddly in my room before we came here. Almost as if she felt sick.
Or as if she’d been poisoned.
Seconds later I’m screaming a name and I’m not stopping until I get my pound of flesh. Judica, I’m coming for you, and this time I will relish the sound of every last crunch.
12
“Judica! JUDICA!”
I’m raging. She isn’t in her room, the ballroom, the throne room, or the kitchen, and I don’t know where to look next.
“Sister.” At the sound of her quiet voice, I spin around. Death is at her heels as always. And probably in response to the threat in my voice, the fur along his back is raised and his ears are up. Judica’s wearing a burgundy gown that matches Mom’s Marchesa almost perfectly, but with a burgundy overlay instead of silver.
I can’t quite keep the tremble out of my voice when I accuse her. “You killed my dog.”
Her eyebrows rise and her eyes widen in surprise at first, but no. Maybe I imagined that because her arched eyebrow and cold words confirm my suspicion. “Pity it was only the dog.”
I scream and run toward her. I don’t know quite what I’ll do when I get there, but my fingers are curling up and I’m itching to sink my fingernails into the skin on her face. Someone pulls me back just before I reach her, and I spin around to face him or her.
It’s Edam.
“Let me go,” I say. “You don’t understand!”
“I understand your dog died and you’re upset, but you have no evidence Judica had anything to do with it.”
“You’re defending her?” I snarl. “She killed my dog.” My voice cracks. “Again.”
Judica’s laughter chills me to the bone.
Edam’s voice is a low rumble in my ear. “I’m not an expert on dogs, but I’m pretty sure they can’t die twice. Unless Cookie was a zombie dog.”
I appreciate what he’s trying to do, but his attempted joke enrages me more.
Quiet or not, Judica must have heard him, because she says, “I killed Fruity Pebbles, her first spaniel, on our ninth birthday.” Judica’s still standing in the exact same spot, completely calm, seemingly unconcerned. “No zombies that I know of, canine or otherwise.”
“This isn’t a joke,” I grind out between clenched teeth. “Cookie is dead.” My voice wavers even though I try to keep sorrow out of the equation. How can she still hurt me after so many years?
“A pity,” she says.
I strain against Edam’s arms, but they hold me firmly.
“She said it’s a pity.” Edam’s looking right at me, not even bothering to glance at Judica. “See? She’s sorry. It’s some kind of misunderstanding.”
“That’s not what she means.” I growl. “She meant that it was a pity she killed my dog on our ninth birthday, because she meant to kill me instead. I didn’t eat her disgusting poisoned cookies, but Pebbles did.”
Edam doesn’t speak but he lets go of me, his brow furrowing. I assumed he knew. I assumed everyone knew the story. It seems like something Judica would gloat about.
Judica’s lip curls, but I’m not stupid enough to think it’s really a smile. “I didn’t know about your distaste for sweets then and I miscalculated. An understandable oversight, since you named your mutt after a sugary breakfast cereal.”
Rage swells inside me as I think about Pebbles’ cold body, and now Cookie’s. “That’s your problem, Judica. You didn’t know me then and you don’t know me now. If you’d spent five minutes with me that weren’t forced upon you, you could’ve killed me then and saved yourself all this hassle.”
“Oh, I think I learned my lesson. Believe me sister, if I wanted to kill you now, I wouldn’t make the same mistake.” Death growls as if to emphasize her point.
“You’d just decapitate me during a training session, is that it?” I clench and unclench my fists. “But when that didn’t work because Edam stopped you, maybe you’d give poison another go.”
Edam looks from me to Judica and back. He gestures at the people who are gathering in the hall to listen. “Let’s all calm down. Maybe we can find your mother and talk to her about this. In private.”
Judica turns on Edam. “I’m surprised you can look me in the eye after yesterday.” Judica’s eyes flash and I need to know what exactly happened. “I don’t take orders from you. I haven’t had this much fun in months, so go away and leave us alone. You’re good at that.”
“What happened yesterday?” I ask. “What made you dump him?”
Judica’s face turns bright red and it’s suddenly clear to me. I’m grinning like a fool when I say, “Whoa, you didn’t.” I shouldn’t gloat, I know that. But I can’t help it. “He dumped you.”
I might be imagining it, but Judica sounds a little bit broken when she says, “As much as I wish I could, I can’t take credit. I had nothing to do with your dog’s death. Was that all you wanted from me, Chancery?”
I want to demand that her dog die this time, too. She needs to pay, but I realize it’s not Death’s fault. She should have to pay herself. “I’m going to challenge you.”
“You’re challenging me?” She laughs bitterly. “Do it, I beg you. I’ve wanted to challenge you for years, but Mother would never forgive me. If you challenge me, I’ll finally be rid of you, and it won’t even be my fault.”
“Fine,” I say. “I, Chancery Divinity—”
The door to my room opens and I jump. No one ever goes into my room without my permission. Who could be coming out of it?
When Mom emerges with tears streaking her cheeks, I’m confused. She never goes in my room unless I’m there, too. Her voice is soft, but cuts like a knife. “Would you break my heart, Chancy?” She stands just outside my door, Duchess beside her. “On my birthday? My two beautiful daughters at one another’s throats?”
My mouth opens, but no words come out.
“I was leaving a gown on your bed. I wanted us all to coordinate for my birthday ball, but then I heard you yelling in the hallway.”
An answering tear rolls down my cheek. Dang it. I can’t cry, not now. Not in front of her. The words feel torn from me. “She killed Cookie, Mom.”
“Is that true, Judica?” Mom asks.
“I didn’t touch her mongrel, I swear it.” Her smirk makes my blood boil.
“She might not have touched him, but she poisoned him. She always lies in a way that sounds like truth. Gah, listen to her—”
“Chancery, please.” Mom glances at the audience that has gathered and my face flushes. I know better than to act like this in front of guests, no matter how angry and hurt I am.
“I want something from you both,” Mom whispers. “I want you to stop fighting for just one day.”
I know I shouldn’t argue, but my heart is broken. I can’t help it. “But, Mom,” I say, “she—”
She shakes her head sharply. “No. Tomorrow you can hate her again, but for today, please be at peace.” She pleads with her eyes and reinforces it with her words. “Do this for me, little dove.”
It’s more effective than any order ever could be. It’s her birthday, and she never asks for anything. She looks so sad and so tired. I’ve never seen her look so old. I can wait one day. When I think of my poor, sweet Cookie I simmer inside, but I love my mom more than my dog.
“Fine.” I bite off the end of my words. “One day.”
Judica laughs. “This is rich.”
“You can go—”
“My birthday,” my mom says sharply. “Chancy, come try on your dress. It’s nearly time for the party.”
I follow her back into my room. She looks even worse than she did at breakfast. “Mom, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look like—”
“I’m fine,” she says. “My twin daughters were hurling death threats at one another in the hallway, but otherwise, things are great.” Her face looks almost haggard, her lips compressed into a thin line. Judica poisons my dog, and I’m the one who has to suck it up to make peace. Typical.
“I’m sorry,” I say simply. And I am. Above all things, I never want to cause Mom pain.
She’s only asking for one day. I breathe in deeply through my mouth and out through my nose. I can give her that. Besides, her request probably saved my life. Not that I’ll ever admit that.
She waves at my bed. There’s a gown similar to hers, with the same silver overlay, but with silver cloth underneath instead of burgundy. “I wanted each of you, my identical angels, to reflect a part of me. Will you wear it?”
“Please don’t pout. I am very sorry about Cookie. Sorrier than you realize. What an awful two days for you.” Mom sits on the edge of my bed and puts her face in her hands. “I don’t know whether she killed him, but I know she goads you. She starts fight after fight, and I see her do that too, but can we pretend to be a happy family for one day? We can take things as they come after that.”
I nod. “Yes, I’ll let it go until tomorrow. I’m sorry for causing a scene.” I walk back to the door.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
I choke up. “I need to get Cookie, Mom. I can’t just leave her lying on the floor of the arena.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Mom stands. “We’ll do a service for her tomorrow when all this is over. I promise, little dove.” She lowers her voice. “And I’ll ask Job to do an autopsy to determine cause of death.”
Job is going to hate that, autopsying a dog. I look my mom in the eye and see that she understands. Duchess bumps my leg and I crouch down and sink my face into her shaggy white fur. The royal family mostly has dogs to taste our food, but we come to love them like family. Mom’s enormous Pyrenees will miss Cookie as much as I do. I turn away from my mom to head for my bathroom. “I’ll meet you in the ballroom at noon?”
Before I can escape, she pulls me toward her and into a hug. I’m still angry about Cookie, but it’s not my mom’s fault. When she finally lets me go, she smiles at me, but it’s not as stunning as usual. The circles under her eyes look worse, and there’s so much tension in her mouth. Even her skin looks almost... sallow. I’m doing this to her, Judica and me.
I squeeze her hand. “One long day to celebrate you, and then everyone goes home and we go back to normal.”
“Normal,” she says. “I’m not sure what that is anymore.”
“Me either,” I say, “but more than ever, I think going to live with Alora is my best plan.” The thought of leaving Mom behind stabs at my heart, but I shove it down. Staying here and dying by Judica’s sword would be worse than living apart from Mom for a while.
Displaced (The Birthright Series Book 1) Page 13
