Stitching Snow

by R. C. Lewis

  I strode across the cell and grabbed her chin, putting my face right in hers. I hoped it looked intimidating on the guards’ display. For her part, the woman looked like she wasn’t sure what to think.

  “Do you know who I am?” I whispered. “Do you know who my mother was?”

  She nodded, now glancing back and forth between me and Dane, who hovered protectively next to me.

  “Then you know I’m not part of this. We’ll try to get you out, but it might take a little while longer.” Her eyes kept lingering on Dane’s, then darting back to me. “You know him, too. His father?”

  “Darrak,” she whispered, barely. With the damage to her vocal cords, I had to lean closer and watch her lips to understand.

  “Where is he?” Dane pressed. “Which cell is he in?”

  She shivered, and her eyes glistened with tears. The chill in the air cut even deeper.

  “He’s not. He’s dead.”

  “HOW?” Dane’s question was more rasp than whisper.

  “Infection. Seven years ago. When we still had the strength to Transition to each other. His last thoughts were of you and your mother.”

  He stood so close, his arm against my shoulder, that I felt his reaction. A microscopic hint of physical collapse before he regained his posture. He’d stopped breathing.

  So had I. Too late, too late, too late. Seven years too late. Dead before I’d even left the Bands, when I still jumped at every approaching shadow. Dead before I knew how to fight. Dead before Dane and I had any blazing chance of doing anything about it.

  There were others, though. I couldn’t fall apart now, and I couldn’t let Dane, either. I gripped the woman’s chin more tightly, as if she wasn’t giving me what I wanted.

  “How many others are still alive?”

  “Not sure. I—I see them carry out the bodies sometimes. Ten? Maybe more.”

  “Can you hold on a little longer?”

  “No,” Dane cut in. “We can’t leave them here. We have to get them out now.”

  I was afraid he’d say something like that. I gave the woman a little shake, hoping it still looked right. “Did you bring an army in your pocket, Dane?”

  “There are only five of them.”

  “You think we can take out all five before anyone alerts the palace? And then what?”

  Before Dane could continue arguing, the woman cut in. “Kadei, you mustn’t endanger yourselves. We can wait. Princess, please, be careful. The queen’s guards, they talk. They’ll do anything to keep her in power, even go against the king, but you can’t trust him, either.”

  Nothing I didn’t know. After one more shove, I backed away, letting the disgust I felt for the guards show on my face as I looked at her. I didn’t say another word, just stalked out into the tunnel and checked the remaining cells. More than twenty, fewer than half of them occupied. None of the other prisoners looked up when I entered and crossed over to them. Not until I whispered in their ears, “Soon.” Then they met my eyes and saw that it was a promise rather than a threat.

  I had no idea whether I’d be able to keep that promise.

  When I’d seen the last one—an old man who looked like gravity alone should have broken him—I returned to the head of the tunnel and pounded on the door. Dane had done nothing but follow me in silence, glaring the whole time. He still didn’t want to leave them. I wondered if he’d forgive me.

  The door opened, bringing a warm draft of fresh air. Mostly fresh, with an undertone of onions. The prison’s three guards were eating lunch.

  “Done what you came to do, then?” asked one of the men who’d accompanied us.

  Dane kicked the back of my heel. It took me half a gasp to figure why. The guard hadn’t shown the proper respect.

  I crossed the room to where he lounged at a console, using a knife to pick scum from under his fingernails. “Did you address me, guard?”

  He took his time replacing the knife in its sheath. “Forgive me…Your Highness. Do you wish to return to the palace now?”

  “I do.”

  I didn’t wait, going straight to the transport with Dane right behind me. The pair of guards followed after delaying just long enough to make it clear they didn’t feel I was in any position to order them. Dane refused to look at me as the craft lifted into a hover and moved away from the prison.

  Away from the prison, but not back the way we’d come.

  “Guard, where are we going?” I demanded.

  “Don’t worry yourself, Highness. We need to check the perimeter outpost before making the return trip.”

  Plausible enough, but all I heard in my head was Dimwit’s electronic voice. Wrong way wrong way.

  I kept a sharp eye on the scenery. Overgrown trees and shrubs, scarcely enough room for the transport to pass, and nothing resembling a path to follow. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. The route to and from a secret prison wasn’t likely to have markers and signs at every turn.

  Neither was a route to a secluded area perfect for killing an unwanted princess. My hand drifted to the top of my boot, reassuring myself that my knife was securely in place.

  After several minutes, though, an antenna assembly came into view. It probably detected anyone who wandered too close to the prison. The transport came to a stop, and the guards turned.

  “If you don’t mind, Princess, you’re handy with tech like that drone-pet of yours, and we could use some help checking the relays,” one said.

  Dane’s eyes said no, absolutely not. But the tight confines of the transport pressed on me in sudden claustrophobia.

  “Anything to speed it up,” I said.

  They made an “after you” gesture. Turning my back on them sounded like a truly bad idea, but I didn’t dare put up a fuss. Dane stepped in right behind me. Didn’t matter that he was mad at me. No one could get to me without going through him first.

  I didn’t like that any better.

  My back prickled with three sets of eyes watching it. Every instinct said to forget appearances and just run. Two steps away from the transport, I surrendered to panic and spun around.

  Good thing, too. Dane sidestepped the guard behind him, pivoting at the same time to smash his fist in the man’s face. But the second guard already had a gun out, pointed straight at my head.

  His finger wasn’t on the trigger yet. Idiot thought the gun alone would be enough to scare me.

  I moved like Dane taught me, knocking the gun from the guard’s hand before he had time to blink. He blocked my second strike, his eyes shifting, taking me seriously.

  Round one.

  The gun was lost in the undergrowth, but the good news ended there. I attacked; he blocked. He attacked; I dodged. We each got some glancing contact in, but nothing to make any real progress.

  Then he stopped playing around.

  A fist to my gut knocked the wind from me. An elbow to the side of my head sent sparks across my vision.

  Back up, Essie, get some space, some room to breathe.

  Too slow. He had a grip on my wrist. A flash of sunlight glinted off silver.

  Knife!

  “Essie, get down!”

  I dropped to a crouch, nearly falling forward. The hand released my wrist, and the knife plunged into the ground just a few sniffs in front of me. I lifted my eyes. The black and pewter handle of another Midnight Blade weapon stuck out from the guard’s neck, his eyes glassy with surprise. He swayed and fell. I turned to see Dane standing with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. The other guard lay on the ground nearby, unmoving. I watched his chest. Really unmoving.

  Dane had killed to save me. He’d ended two lives.

  I hadn’t even thought to pull my own knife. Maybe the habits of cage fighting. Maybe I was too afraid of using such deadly force. I wanted to vomit, cry, or curl up and go to sleep forever. Instead, I stayed still, wishing the wobbly world would do the same.

  “Are you hurt?” Dane asked between gasps.

  “I’m fine. You?”

&nb
sp; He didn’t answer. He turned and walked several steps away, both hands gripping his hair. His shoulders shook, and he fell to his knees.

  Then a noise like nothing I’d ever heard. A cry, a howl, a roar. All of those. None of them.

  It had nothing to do with Olivia’s guards and killing them. The horrible sound that tore through my ears was the pain he’d held in since the prison, since learning his father was long dead.

  I knew I should go to him, comfort him, but I didn’t know how.

  Then figure it.

  The dizziness had faded enough that I could push myself to my feet. He was only a few steps away, but it felt like a hundred links. When I got there, I still wasn’t sure what to do. I started with resting a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady its shaking. He reached up and closed his hand over mine, squeezing it tight. Something warm passed through me, burning through fissures in my heart.

  It hurt.

  All I know is pain running through every nerve, every vein. My ribs ache, but it’s not the bruises of the fight with the guard—

  —the guard I killed—

  —the blood—

  —dead—

  —Father dead all these years. I’ll never see him again. Never—

  I yanked my hand away. “I—I didn’t mean to, Dane, I’m—”

  “I didn’t stop you,” he said, his voice rough. He stood and returned to the transport. “We need to get out of here.”

  For two heartbeats, I just stared at my hand. I’d Transitioned for the first time since the ball, but aside from the effects of the fight, I felt fine physically.

  It had been easy. Like with Mother.

  I kept my mouth shut and boarded the transport. Disabling the security lockout so Dane could pilot it was easy enough. He hesitated before engaging the engines.

  “There are only three of them at the prison now,” he said.

  I couldn’t stand what I was about to say, but the words came out just the same. “We can’t, Dane. There’s not enough room for all of them, they need doctors, and we’re too far from the fleet—it’s not time. All we’d do is get them and ourselves killed. We need to find a way back to the palace without passing the prison again.”

  “Whatever you say, Princess.”

  He got the transport moving, picking a route that would take us in the right general direction. I could only let the silence hang for a few minutes.

  “Dane…I’m sorry about your father.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Those words felt like a gyro-compressor squeezing my chest. “But it is my fault.”

  “Essie, don’t,” he said sharply, his eyes fastened to the controls. “It isn’t.”

  But it is.

  ARRIVING AT THE PALACE was nothing like the last time. No escorts at battle-readiness. No concerned father waiting anxiously. As far as anyone knew, we were expected and on schedule. Only one person would realize how false that was.

  Dane maneuvered the transport into its dock but didn’t move to get out yet, his hands still resting on the controls. We’d been silent for most of the journey, but now he turned to me.

  “You could tell your father what happened, but I’m not sure you should.”

  Tell Father that his wife had made ongoing efforts to kill me? “I don’t know, either.”

  “Would he believe you?”

  That was the question without an answer. “He might. Or he might not. Either way, it would be too easy for Olivia to turn it around on us, especially when we’re standing on so many lies. Better not risk it.”

  Dane nodded. “What about Olivia?”

  That would be tricky. “I’ll handle her. Alone.”

  “No. Not alone, Essie.”

  I slipped the cylinder of varitane gas out of my pocket. We’d given Dimwit over eight hours to get his job done, and Olivia typically changed outfits at least three times a day. “I have this if I need it. You go back to the suite and I’ll meet you there.” He opened his mouth to continue his protests, but I cut him off. “Don’t argue, Dane. Do as I say.”

  I pressed a hand to my mouth, but it was too late to catch the words. The look he gave made me feel like my insides were full of baby harri-harra maggots. I’d spoken to him like a princess to her guard, only there wasn’t anyone around to justify the act.

  An apology lodged in my throat. Those words wouldn’t come out. Instead, I walked away.

  Once inside the palace, I asked the first servant I saw where I could find the queen. I was directed to one of the libraries. Olivia stood at a full-desk computer display, but I couldn’t see what was on it. Nothing good, certainly. She looked up when I entered, and for once, her masks failed her completely.

  Fury. Pure and clear.

  I kept one hand in my pocket, lightly holding the canister. “Good evening, Olivia. I’m afraid there was an incident at the prison, and your guards were unable to return with us. Thought you should know.”

  She still had the option of making up a story to tell Father, something to turn him against me. It all depended on how confident she was in her ability to convince him.

  Slowly, carefully, her mask of indifferent benevolence reasserted itself. “Terrible shame to lose good guards. I’ll have to make sure they’re better trained next time.”

  Translation: Eventually I’ll succeed.

  I knew she would. But she hadn’t managed it yet. At that rate, I had a pretty good chance of surviving long enough to make my murder the last thing she did as queen of Windsong.

  That would be worth it.

  “I’m sure you will,” I said. “Thank you for arranging my visit to the prison. I know who my enemies are now. Good night.”

  I walked out of the library, half expecting a knife in my back before I reached the door. Too messy for her, though, and no convenient Exiles to blame for my death in a prison riot.

  Back in the suite, Dimwit sat alone in the corner. “Did you get the job done?” I asked.

  Two beeps. Done, yes. Whether or not it had been botched…only one way to find out.

  With the drone stationary and muted, silence wove through the air. The door to Dane’s room was closed. I thought about checking on him. Maybe apologizing. Definitely apologizing.

  But I left him alone.

  Days of nothing passed.

  I kept busy enough. I recorded a video message to use when the Candaran fleet launched the attack. It took fifteen tries before I was satisfied, and the message got added to the data-chip with the gun scan tucked safely in my locket.

  Meanwhile, Dane and I attended meetings with Father and militia commanders where I offered suggestions for a counteroffensive in the outlands. My ideas were heard, thoughtfully considered, and added to a list of things that would never happen because Father controlled both sides. Still I went, showing all the passion and hatred of the Exiles that he wanted to see, hoping he would give me more information. Sometimes I thought I saw a hint in his eyes that he would let me in on the secret soon. But not yet.

  The social events didn’t let up, either. I visited military academies where recruits for the various royal guards trained. I visited women’s clubs where ladies with nothing better to do discussed projects for the betterment of the Royal City, such as rearranging the flowers lining the causeways. Everywhere Princess Snow went, the people were thrilled to see her.

  Almost everywhere.

  Dane and I kept up our act when in public. When we were alone, we rarely talked at all. He grieved for his father. Thanks to my Transitioning slipup, I knew exactly how much it hurt, and I didn’t know how to help. How could I help, when the man would’ve been alive if not for me?

  I kept a chart in my head, counting down the days until we’d be close enough to the fleet to set things in motion. The count proceeded with equal parts dread and anticipation. Whatever Dane and I did, I might not survive it. But it would be over.

  Twelve days…nine…five. The last few passed in a blur of more military strategizing and smiling for image-
captures.

  “The queen would prefer you wear one of the dresses for the school visit,” Dane said when he saw me on the morning of Day Zero. “Says a good impression is particularly important right now.”

  I entertained the idea of turning around and changing into a dress for about half a nanosecond. Then I finished pulling my boots on. “I don’t take orders from Olivia. Children don’t need to see a fancified princess in a gown, do they?”

  “Whatever you say—you’re the princess.”

  He’d said that a lot over the last several days. So much that my ears hurt when I heard it. This was one time too many, and the pain snapped something inside.

  “Didn’t exactly ask to be a princess, did I? Didn’t ask to be chased off to Thanda or taken away again or any blazing thing except to come here and stitch this mess, and I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Your accent, Ess—”

  “Oh, shut it, Dane, I know!”

  I tried to move past him to the door, but he blocked me. “I know you’re anxious about today. I heard Theo tell you about how your mother—”

  “If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it.”

  He froze. I’d done it again, treated him like he was something less, like his words weren’t worthy of me…like he wasn’t the only person on the planet I knew I could count on.

  I didn’t mean it. He had to know I didn’t, that everything inside me was coming unraveled and it just came out around him because it couldn’t anywhere else.

  When I tried again, I kept my voice softer, imploring. “Dane, please. Just don’t. I can’t think about it.”

  His posture eased, just a little. “All right. Let’s get going.”

  The school visit redefined agony. Dane had known exactly what he was talking about. The visit reminded me too much of Theo’s story of meeting my mother. I couldn’t inspire anyone like she had.