by R. C. Lewis
“Very astute, Snowflake. But this isn’t fictional. It’s based on maps of the world our ancestors came from a thousand years ago. We use it because it’s good to remember the past, where we came from.”
Some details must have gotten botched over the generations. One of the continents had a peninsula that looked impossibly similar to the heeled boots the tailors had made me try on.
Father remained silent for a moment as he fussed with one of the pawns. “In the past, I know I wasn’t perfect,” he said, his voice too low to carry to Dane and the guard.
I didn’t know what he meant. I could barely hear him above my heart pulsing a panicked heat through my body. An imperfect ruler? An imperfect father? An imperfect human being? I didn’t want to talk about any of it. Forcing my demeanor into light neutrality took every ounce of my nerves.
“No one’s perfect,” I said. “We all do the best we can.”
His eyes flashed momentarily before he relaxed. “Yes, of course we do. But our family must hold to the highest standard. You have some catching up to do,” he continued. “Things to learn, to prepare you to lead this world someday. All the years you’ve been missing, I was so afraid. I didn’t know what would happen when I’m gone. I couldn’t entrust the throne to anyone else.”
My instincts told me he meant it, and the facts supported that—in eight years, he’d never named another successor. “You’ll be around for a long while yet.”
“I hope so. And I know the people will realize how lucky they are to have you for their future queen. You’ll see at the ball—many things will change.”
Father and the Candarans wanted the exact same thing, but on a very different timetable. I said nothing, just smiled and wiped out the army occupying the boot-shaped peninsula.
The days leading up to the ball made me wish I’d taken Dane up on his offer to return me to Mining Settlement Forty-Two. I met more dignitaries than I could ever possibly remember. I’d never realized so many “important” people lived on all of Windsong. Of course, as a child, I’d spent most of my time tucked away in private areas of the palace, not yet beginning any official work as princess.
When I wasn’t busy with the chancellor of this or the magistrate of that, Dane and I gently cracked into the Windsong computer networks. It was tricky work, covering our tracks, and that limited how deep we could dig. Our first check was for information about the Candaran prisoners, but there was nothing, which had to frustrate Dane. Next we researched each governor, looking for a weak point, one who might be more open to listening to us. No luck there. All the governors were either wholehearted supporters of my father or very careful to never leave any clue that they weren’t.
We looked into the war, too. Not much to find there, either, but we found some brief recordings of battles supposedly taking place on Candara. Dane said the landscape was too generic to identify, but it easily could’ve been staged on Windsong. We just had no way to prove it.
So I kept meeting dignitaries and prepared for the ball.
I had no choice but to get used to the heels. The tailors had sent at least fifteen different pairs of shoes to my room. Some were dainty—with heels. Some were opulent—with heels. Even most of the boots had heels. I managed to walk without tripping anymore, but my feet felt like the drones had mistaken them for a chunk of merinium they needed to chisel off the wall.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call one of the tailors?” Dane asked from outside my room.
“Yes, I am sure,” I replied. It came out as more of a grunt as I struggled with my ball gown. “I’ve put up with the Royal Hairdresser and the Royal Blazing-Makeup-Fusser today, and I will dress myself, thank you.”
“Essie, you need to act the part.”
“I know! Why do you think I’m getting it out of my system now?”
I could have sworn I heard him laugh. “Let me have it, then.”
“Argh. I know it’s part of the act, but it’s so pointless. We should be digging deeper in the computers. There have to be more secure networks we haven’t found. I have codes that can get us around some of the lockouts.”
“You never know what you’ll hear at a royal ball. Think of it that way. Hey, Dimwit, where’ve you been?”
“Dimwit bumble Dimwit.”
I froze. Dimwit had been working on a special task, but its voice was supposed to be off.
“Did you turn its voice on, Dane?” I asked.
“Yeah, when he came in. He’s setting up to recharge now.”
I relaxed and returned to my battle against ballroom fashion. Finally, I got everything in place…mostly. There was no way I could contort myself enough to tie the last ribbon at the back of the gown. I opened the door and went out into the main room.
“Don’t gawp at me like that again, Dane. This is how they have me looking all the time—you should be used to it.” True, the sapphire-blue ball gown with its silver embroidery and diamond accents was extravagant even by the royal tailors’ standards, but still. I turned my back toward him. “Can you get that last one for me, please?”
His fingers brushed my skin as he worked the tie. I bit my lip to restrain my instinctive shiver. “Got it.”
I turned around. “How much did I botch my hair in that little wrestling match?”
He carefully adjusted the delicate silver circlet on my head. My hair was wound around and through it so tight, dislodging it was probably impossible. At least I’d talked Father into letting me wear it rather than a more formal crown.
“You didn’t,” Dane said. “You look perfect. For the record, though, I liked how you looked on Thanda just fine.”
His sincerity set off a blossom of warmth in my chest. But the more he talked like that when we were alone, the harder it was for me to act like he was two sniffs from nothing once we left the suite, so I shrugged it off.
“Of course. Grimy and bruised and bleeding. What’s not to like? Oh, wait, the necklace!” I’d promised Olivia I’d wear her gift to the ball, so I was stuck with it. Once I retrieved the ruby pendant from its case, Dane helped fasten it around my neck, and I was finally ready.
Without further comment, he opened the door, checked the hall, and let me through. We walked in silence until we heard the music faintly filtering from the ballroom.
“I should have asked earlier,” he said quietly. “Do you know how to dance?”
“Unfortunately. Olivia made me take lessons as a child. I’ll step on a few toes, but I’ll try to be charming about it.”
As we approached the private entrance to the ballroom, Father waited outside. He smiled when he saw me. Dane’s steady breaths suddenly shortened.
“Ah, Snowflake!” Father greeted me, taking my hands in his. “Beautiful as can be. Ready for your grand entrance?”
Never will be in a million lifetimes. Aloud, I said, “Yes, Father.”
He kept one hand and gestured for the attendant to open the door. Another attendant inside rapped a golden staff loudly on the floor.
“Matthias, Supreme Crown of the Realm, and Her Highness, Princess Snow.”
We walked through the door, and my eyes instantly hurt. I’d never seen so much color and glitter in one place in my life. Girls in gowns nearly as extravagant as mine, some with hair altered to garishly coordinating colors, and men in what looked to be right cumbersome suits all crowded the floor at the bottom of a wide staircase. I could hardly find anywhere in the room itself that wasn’t touched with gold or silver, from the elaborate columns to the musicians’ stage to the chandeliers. Raised platforms held contortionists, and acrobats climbed and leaped from one to another.
Every eye was on me.
Do not trip, Essie.
As I held Father’s hand and carefully made my way down the stairs, I glimpsed the glint of light off lenses in the crowd. Image recorders. Thanks to all the dignitaries I’d met, everyone on Windsong already knew about my return. Now they would all see me as well. Olivia’s opportunities to quietly dispose of me were l
ong past. She’d have to be cleverer.
Unfortunately, she was likely as clever as I was.
Once at the bottom of the stairs, an aide introduced me to Somebody, son of One-Aristocrat-or-Another, who bowed, took my hand, and swept me onto the dance floor.
I’d known it was coming, but I hadn’t realized how much it would twitch me out to have a stranger touching me, his hand on my back. I couldn’t show it. I had to smile. When I inevitably stepped on his toes, he insisted it was his fault.
Well, naturally. I’d spent the last few years debugging subroutines and breaking ribs. Of course my poor dancing skills were his fault.
The rest of the evening was the same. One dance after another with sons and grandsons of everyone I’d met over the past several days. All of them my age or a bit older. All of them much too interested. Blazes, is Father trying to marry me off?
These boys didn’t look at me anything like Dane did. With Dane, I knew he saw me. The looks from the Windsong boys made me want to bring Petey in from Thanda to rig a spur, right there in the ballroom.
I figured with the excuse of prolonged contact, Dane would want me to practice Transitioning. I tried it once—leading to another set of bruised toes—but the head I found myself in was too self-absorbed to bear, and my dance partner threatened to fetch a doctor.
No more practice in a crowded, overheated ballroom, Essie, or you’ll pass out.
Once in a while, I caught sight of Dane at the edge of the crowd. Close enough to keep an eye on me, but far enough to escape notice. I indulged myself several times, imagining I was dancing with him instead. His hand on my back, mine on his shoulder, losing myself in the warmth of his eyes. The fantasy curbed the temptation to dismantle my actual dance partners and was a much more pleasant way to spend the evening.
Another pair of eyes caught my attention more than once. Olivia didn’t just watch me—she glared. The kingdom knew she was always a bit stern, so no one was likely to notice, but I saw the words behind her expression. You’re unwanted. You’re in the way.
“Princess, is something wrong with your guard?”
I started, looking up at my dance partner. Aston? Alastair? One of the governors’ sons. Unnaturally dark hair slicked back, and entirely too pleased with himself. He resembled his father that way. I followed his gaze to Dane and saw what I’d missed before. Dane’s stoic expression was almost perfect, but a shadow of something slipped through.
I wasn’t the only one who wanted to dismantle my dance partners.
A cold spike drove through me. Olivia’s chances of killing me were still very high. She was sharp enough to pull it off. And if she recognized what I’d just seen, she’d make sure to kill Dane, too. I couldn’t let that happen.
Enough people had died because of me.
“Princess?”
“Sorry,” I finally said. “No, my guard is fine. He’s just new to palace life.”
“Ah. If I may say, your thoughts seemed as far away as the Thandan mines just now.” Before I could rig an acceptable response, he continued. “Yes, my father told me the tale of your recent years. Trapped on Thanda with those bizarre Ascetics.”
“They were kind to me. It wasn’t bad.”
“Of course they were. How could anyone be unkind to someone like you?”
Oh, people found ways. “If you say so,” I said with a polite smile.
“It must be such a relief to be back home where you belong. Back among the right type of people.”
My hand itched to form a fist. What did this overwrought excuse of aesthetic waste know about the “right type” of people? Petey was the right type. So was Kip. Even Brand on Garam.
Laisa—an Exile—was the right type of person.
The boy made a move, the slightest increase in pressure on my back, pulling me a sniff closer. Another one like that and I’d break his windpipe.
Out of nowhere, Dane stood at his shoulder, muttering something in his ear. Aston, Alastair, whatever his name was, shifted his gaze across the ballroom. I couldn’t follow without being too obvious, so I tried to read Dane’s expression. It had returned to stone, as a personal guard’s should be.
The pressure on my back eased, and the boy’s smile looked much more forced. “A pleasure to meet you, Princess. Until next time.”
He kissed my hand as the music ended and walked away, leaving Dane to escort me from the dance floor. I didn’t say anything, just raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
“His Highness seemed to disapprove of something,” he muttered, barely loud enough for me to hear.
I looked around and found my father. Everything seemed fine now, and he smiled at me. Whatever disapproval he’d shown didn’t make me feel better, but it had kept me from losing control and causing a scene. I couldn’t thank Dane in front of everyone, so I hoped he caught it in my eyes.
Before another dance could be arranged, a crash and shout erupted at the public entrance. Dane stepped between me and the commotion, keeping me behind him. He’d certainly gotten the bodyguard routine down quickly. I peered over his shoulder to see what was going on.
Someone barreled into the ballroom with a pair of guards chasing after him. The guests made no attempt to help, just dove out of the way, a few girls screaming. The intruder made it to the center of the room before the guards caught up. A desperate voice broke over all the other noise.
“Please! No, please! The queen is my last hope!”
Olivia stood on a dais with Father, so she was easy to spot as she stepped down.
“Guards, wait.”
I laid a hand on Dane’s back and whispered in his ear. “Move closer.”
His muscles tensed and flexed under my hand, but he did as I said, edging toward the disturbance. Most of the other guests were torn between morbid curiosity and their desire to get far away from anyone with such bad manners. We easily got to a place where I could see what was happening.
A man knelt on the floor, cradling a small child. The man was thin, his face drawn and gray; the child looked the same, but worse. Her clothes hung loosely from her rail-like frame, and even from a distance I could see what hard work it was just for her to breathe.
Olivia stood with a large space between her and the pair, and the crowd made a circle around them. “What’s happened, citizen?”
“We live in Goodland Province, on the outland border. A plague has struck us. The doctors can’t do anything; they say it may be a weapon released by the Exiles.” Dane tensed again but didn’t move as the man continued. “My Lucia was the first to fall ill, and she’s grown so weak. Please, Your Grace, we traveled nonstop to reach you. This may be beyond all understanding, but I can only hope it is not beyond you, for my daughter’s sake.”
“Come closer, and I’ll do what I can.”
The man crawled forward on his knees until he could lay his daughter at the queen’s feet. Olivia slowly raised her arms in front of her.
Then everything came unhinged.
The lights flickered and dimmed. Something shuddered through the air, rattling the chandeliers—low-frequency sound, felt more than heard, I imagined. It left behind a persistent buzz in my ears. Olivia made elaborate gestures, seeming to gather something from the air. My eyes had to be malfunctioning, because a sort of aura appeared around her.
Hologram. That’s why she made him come to her. The projectors are set for that spot.
Doors slammed at the front of the ballroom, and everyone shouted and turned. Everyone except Dane and me. A wave of dizziness rushed over me—that Transition attempt earlier had been a bad idea—but I kept my eyes locked on Olivia, every movement, every detail.
When the doors slammed, Olivia twisted one of the enormous rings she wore. Then she very distinctly waved that hand in the direction of the man and his child. The ring had to contain an airborne antidote, probably with some kind of pressurized release mechanism. Very clever.
As the lights steadied and the rattling faded, Olivia dramatically collapsed into Fa
ther’s waiting arms.
I shifted my gaze to the girl. Hard to tell, but it looked like she breathed a bit easier.
Cheers erupted among the guests, praising the power of Queen Olivia and cursing the Exile scum, until Father gestured for silence.
“Take this man and his daughter to the hospital,” he said to his aides. “Keep us updated on their condition. My friends, I regret to cut our festivities short, but the queen and I must travel to Goodland Province immediately to remedy this evil.”
The dismissal sparked excited whispers as the crowd drifted toward the public doors, marveling at what they’d just witnessed. They were too busy prattling to see Father and Olivia exchange a knowing glance. Dane steered me in the opposite direction, to one of the private exits that would get us more directly to the residential wing. My feet felt disconnected from my body, and the buzzing remained in my ears.
“Quite a show the queen put on,” Dane said once we were in our rooms. “Are you okay?”
I was pacing to keep myself from tearing my gown to shreds, just for the sake of destroying something. The buzzing had moved to my hands as well, like I could feel sound through them. “No, I’m not okay. Did you see that little girl? One more day with that poison inside her and she might have died.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean you. Are you feeling all right?”
“What?” Everything blurred at the edges, including my wits. One little Transition shouldn’t have worn me that much. I pushed through it. “I’m fine, I just—I need to think. We need to do something.”
Dane moved to stop my pacing, but I just changed my route to check the room’s temperature controls. They had to be botched, because it was much warmer than they indicated.
“We will do something. Can you just slow down?”
His words clicked together in my head. It made sense. “That’s the problem! We’re going too slow.” I raised my skirt enough to pull the knife strapped to my leg. “We should kill them both now, before they leave for Goodland.”
Pieces of the blurry world snapped back into focus—too much focus and not enough, if such a thing were possible—as Dane intercepted me. Except it wasn’t Dane. It was someone else. I couldn’t see past the cruel edges of his face.
