by Hannah West
But she didn’t kneel at the hearth. Instead, she grabbed my elbow, her green eyes wide and flickering with urgency. “You need to escape now, while chaos is your friend. The gate guards left their posts to help the workers.”
“Escape?” I echoed.
“They think I don’t understand Perispi, but I’ve learned more than ‘dust this’ and ‘mop that’ since I arrived,” she whispered, casting a fearful look at the closed door. “Orturio has your elicrin stone. It’s in the cellar.”
I set my jaw and launched off the mattress, ready to demand what belonged to me. With my elicrin stone, I wouldn’t have to wait for the Uprising’s help to search for Glisette. I could go out on my own without fear of dying of cold. I would have fire at my fingertips. Maybe I could find her even faster than they could.
But the maid pushed me back with shocking vehemence, her short curls adhering to her cheeks. “Your elicrin stone isn’t worth it.”
“I need it,” I argued.
“How do I make you understand?” She raked a hand through her wild hair. “My brother and I came here last year to escape the blight disease and started asking about work as soon as we arrived. Within a few days, he was doing some sort of dangerous work for Lord Orturio. All I knew was that I’d be a maid in his household. A few months ago, my brother confided that he knew too much and felt he was in danger. Then he disappeared. He would never have left me with no explanation.” She shook her head. “Never.”
“Are you saying—?”
“Orturio killed him,” she whispered, the shadows on her face deepening in the torchlight. The clouds had darkened the sky so abruptly I could almost believe night had fallen in the middle of the day. “He doesn’t let people walk away. You give him what he wants until you can’t anymore, and then you face his wrath. When the Uprising decided to intercept your kidnapping, I heard him say to the others that he hoped you would be useful to him, but if not, he planned to kill you so there would be one less elicromancer in the world. He saw you as the most likely to turn against your fellow elicromancers…and if you refused, the easiest to pick off.”
The cold sensation her words caused cut much deeper than the biting wind. I braced myself against one of the iron bed posters. Orturio had nearly succeeded in manipulating me with his exhortation about protecting mortals. And if he found out that he had failed…
The notion of being the “easiest to pick off” was as embarrassing as it was terrifying.
“Hurry!” the maid said, pushing me toward the window. I thought about taking something from the wardrobe, but I hadn’t seen a cloak earlier. I opened the shutters and faced the roaring wind, peering down at the grass and stone path directly below my window. Of course, there were no helpful hedges outside my room, nor was there even a balcony or ledge I could use to lower myself before making the jump.
Before I could think twice, I mounted the window frame and leapt.
TWENTY
KADRI
WHEN I hit the ground, an excruciating pain stabbed through my ankle. I heard a sickening pop as it twisted beneath me.
I crumpled. The wet wind tore at my hair and dress. Groaning through my teeth, I peered across the vineyards. The snow swirled, thick enough now to obscure my view of the road and blur the figures of the workers trying to salvage their master’s crop.
I struggled to stand. I didn’t think any bones were broken, but placing weight on the injury made me yelp with regret.
Limping, shielding my face from the violent winds, I started a desperate trek toward the snow-covered clusters of red grapes and beyond them, the fence that marked the boundary of the estate.
A fierce grip on my arm jerked me back and made me howl with pain. Terror thrummed in my veins.
“What are you doing?” a woman’s voice demanded. Fingernails dug into the flesh of my forearm. I turned to find Lucrez. The winds thrashed her raven hair and the corners of her cloak, within whose folds she sheltered the tabby cat from yesterday.
“Come inside,” she barked at me, looking up at the windows. “And hope no one else knows you were trying to escape.”
The distant baying of guard hounds made arguing seem futile. I let her usher me back to my room, wondering whether I would leave this place alive.
Lucrez promised to bring me a pain tincture. When she left the room, I heard shuffling in the corridor. “You could have killed her,” Lucrez reprimanded in hushed tones. I heard the maid utter a meek, indistinguishable reply.
A moment later, the latter came to light my fire and departed without looking in my direction.
Dejected and shivering, I slid off my shoes and curled up on the hearthstones, my ankle throbbing mercilessly. The wet tabby cat sidled over to me with a grouchy expression and nestled up against my thigh.
Some time passed before Lucrez returned with a tray bearing a clear tincture and hot tea. She carried a pair of keys dangling from a scarlet ribbon, which she used to lock the door from the inside. Turning to me, she sighed. “I didn’t take you for an idiot.”
“I’m an idiot for wanting my freedom?”
Lucrez crossed to the fireplace, her damp teal and gold skirts swishing around her ankles. “Orturio’s uncle saw you outside, but no one saw you jump,” she said. “I convinced them that you were out looking at the storm and that you twisted your ankle on the way back up the stairs. But Orturio is suspicious. You need to be careful and do as he says. That’s the only way you will escape.”
“That’s not what the Nisseran girl said.”
“I’m smarter than she is.” Lucrez set down the tray and sat cross-legged beside me, stroking the cat between the eyes.
“Are you trapped here too?” I whispered.
“I can leave whenever I wish,” she said.
“You don’t wish to?”
“I have no reason to. Not all of us are born to ambassadors and betrothed to princes. This is a better life than any I’ve led.”
Lucrez didn’t look more than a few years older than I, yet she spoke of her past as though she were a wise old woman looking back on decades of suffering.
I wanted to ask her why she had come here from Erdem, what happened in her past that made her want to leave it behind. Instead, I asked, “Where did you learn to dance so beautifully?”
She smiled and the little jewel stud in her nose twinkled. “I danced with a famous traveling troupe in Erdem. We performed at all kinds of events, from street fairs to lavish private banquets. And every year, we danced in the heritage parade outside the palace.”
“You danced with the Shamra Yartziza?” I asked in awe.
“You’ve heard of them.”
“I used to watch them in the parade. My brother would lift me on his shoulders so I could see. One year they danced with snakes. It was amazing.”
She laughed. “That was before my time. Swords were the fashion when I joined.”
“I wish I could have seen that. Why did you leave?”
Lucrez poured a cup of tea without meeting my eyes. I smelled the comforting scent of cardamom. “Many reasons. Our manager treated us like whores and kept most of our earnings for herself. She encouraged us to get close to the guests and perform private dances for them, but when I…” Lucrez seemed to remember that she had been serving me tea and set the full cup in front of me along with the tincture. “When I became romantic with the son of a rich man who hired us to entertain his guests, I found myself with child. I thought the son cared for me, but he wanted to pay me off so that no one would know it was his. I saved the money and danced for as long as I could. Eventually Madame noticed and dismissed me.”
I swallowed the tincture and took a warming sip of tea. “What did you do?”
“One of the other dancers told me that the king of Perispos was looking to hire court dancers. This was after his wife died. He was in a lonely spell and needed entertainment. I used the secret payment from my lover to travel to Halithenica and secure the services of a midwife. What remained was just enough to al
low my son and me to survive until I could audition for the king. He hired me, and I danced in his court for years. The pay wasn’t much, but it put food on our plates.”
“Did Lord Orturio poach you as well?” I asked. “Does he make a sport of outbidding rulers?”
“Actually, no,” she said, pausing midstroke. The complacent cat opened its yellow eyes, looking surly again. “The new queen dismissed me.”
“Ambrosine? That’s not surprising.”
“You know her well, I suppose?”
“Well enough to guess that she dismissed you for being too beautiful.”
Lucrez chuckled humorlessly. “Perispi people value modesty. The dancers wear veils to offset any enticing movements. We performed many a routine where we prayed to the Holies or suffered due to a life of promiscuousness.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s embarrassingly theatrical, and not in a ‘snakes and swords’ sort of way. At the king’s wedding feast, I played a virgin dancing with each of the Holies before removing her veil for her husband. Minutes after I revealed my face, I was ordered to leave. The queen had not enjoyed my performance.”
“Oh, Ambrosine,” I muttered. “True to form.”
“But Orturio is well connected. When he heard that the queen had ousted the best court dancer, he thought I might be a valuable tool.” Lucrez traced a swirl of beading on her skirt without looking at me. I wondered if she was manipulating me now, using kindness and the affectation of honesty to win my trust. But I needed to hope that she was good, to trust that the pain tincture I’d just consumed was only that—a tincture. “He provides for me. He even paid for my son to return to Erdem and enlist in a scribe apprenticeship. Sami loves to read and practice his handwriting. He’s written letters to say how happy he is, bunking with other boys and learning every day.”
She smiled again, and the joy in her clove-brown eyes could not be a farce; if she was manipulating me, it was with the truth.
“I’m not saying Orturio is an upstanding man,” she continued, dropping her voice to a whisper. “But…he follows his own rules. Do you understand?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
She scratched her chin, seeming to think of a careful way to say what she meant. “You will doom yourself trying to run. The guards or the dogs will stop you. You have to negotiate with him, offer something of value. He will honor the terms of a deal. He’s a businessman, through and through.”
“But his business is violence and secrets…”
Taking the empty tincture glass, she looked sidelong at me. “Then make it yours too.”
Tray in hand, she slipped out the door and locked it behind her.
TWENTY-ONE
GLISETTE
THE lights of Givita, the huntsman’s village, burned like beacons against the gray dusk.
Nothing sounded quite so appealing as a toasty fire and a hot meal. The huntsman had brought us nuts and jerky, but the effort of plodding for hours through the snow—while restraining my emotions—made my appetite unable to be sated by such modest morsels.
The emotional effort was no small feat. The ache of my ever-present sorrow maintained the cold bite in the air, preventing the treacherous snow and ice from thawing. At least I wasn’t making it worse.
Navara rode on the rouncey’s back, piled in furs, while the huntsman and I walked alongside her. Navara had given me back my boots and offered to let me ride. But I wasn’t certain I could trust Severo, which made me loath to accept any more charity.
We eventually reached a dirt road bordered with tree stumps and fresh footprints. Firewood, I thought, swallowing the guilt that had gnawed at me all day. Last night, these people never would have dreamed they’d need so much of it.
In the village ahead, smoke poured out of clay chimneys that jutted from thatched roofs, blending with the night clouds. The roads had become slush, rutted with the tracks of people tending to business before hurrying to their homes to close and latch the shutters. The lamplighter had done his duty, at least, and by the shuddering lights, a few wayward souls shuffled about, sniffling in the sudden cold.
“Maybe I should stay in the woods,” I said. “I don’t want to endanger anyone else.”
“You pose more danger when you surrender to grief,” Navara said, and once again I was surprised by her discernment. “Maybe some creature comforts will help?”
I wrapped the fur cloak tighter around my shoulders, ignoring the musty smell. The temperate weather in Perispos had clearly consigned it to disuse. “Perhaps.”
We stopped at the edge of town. “I’ll bring you one at a time,” the huntsman said. “The queen’s reward is for both of you. People will be looking for a pair.”
He fitted his boot in the stirrup and swung onto the saddle in front of Navara before taking over the reins. Of course, it was only polite to take his princess first. The horse looked like he needed a meal and a rest almost as much as we did, but he trotted obediently down the road, turning left at the first corner and disappearing from sight.
I folded my arms and sank onto a stump, letting my head droop a little with the urge to doze off.
Glisette.
I felt the harsh whisper whisk along my nape, colder than the already chill air.
I whipped around. Had Ambrosine’s soldiers or foresters found us? The thought made my exhausted muscles tense in fear. I searched the snow-cloaked shapes of the woods and found no one, nothing, not even a creature scurrying into the brush.
Fatigue and grief could play tricks on one’s mind. I knew that. But for reasons I couldn’t name, the chilling memory of Ambrosine’s silver eyes and the strange, deep voice emerging from her lips came back to haunt me.
With one last glance back at the woods, I hurried to meet the huntsman as he cantered through the icy slush. He offered me his gloved hand. I accepted it and mounted my foot in the stirrup, all too aware that I’d been tossed over this selfsame saddle like bagged quail yesterday.
I sat back, squeezing my thighs so that I would not sink against the huntsman. But the short ride inevitably jostled me closer to his solid human warmth, and I realized for the first time how truly cold I was.
“Our shelter is not far,” he said in my language. My mind was too tired to do the work of rapidly parsing the meaning of Perispi words, and I was grateful for the sympathy.
We passed the snow-drenched village square, a hilltop edifice nowhere near as grand or large as the one at the palace, and a frozen watermill. Then we abruptly arrived at a quaint residence with animals crowded in a cozy stable and warm light shining through cracks in the warped shutters. Flowers in the beds beneath the windows had withered in the cold.
I dismounted before the huntsman could offer a hand to help, but he was quick to steady me when I wearily stumbled over my feet. As soon as I felt his touch on my elbow, he pulled away, making me doubt I’d felt it at all.
“You can go inside,” he said, leading his steed to shelter. “It’s safe.”
I didn’t have the will to question his assurance, but my nerves hummed as I approached the door and stamped muddy snow from my boots. My thumb paused on the latch before I found the courage to enter.
The savory scent of a warm meal greeted me first, disarming me completely. An angry bear could have been waiting for me and I would have swooned heart-first into the warmth of that room.
It was a small cottage with a high vaulted ceiling and a loft. A wooden dining table bearing many a nick and score stretched toward a hearth and kitchen with pots and pans on pegs. Dark heads bobbed around the room. One of them belonged to Navara, who sat in the chair closest to the hearth with a hunk of bread and a bowl of what looked like hearty meat stew. A thin woman who I guessed to be Severo’s mother bent over the fire, stirring the contents of a heavy pot suspended over the flames.
The heads stopped bobbing for a moment to regard me. I realized I was letting a draft fill the room, and quickly shut the door behind me.
“I’m sorry,” I said in Perispi, wringing my damp sleev
e in my fist.
The woman straightened and turned. “Oh,” she said, waving me inside. “Um, please, come in.”
Wary, I shuffled to an open seat at the table, absorbing the expressions of the children gathered around it. The smallest was a little girl, perhaps four or five years old. The oldest was a boy about Navara’s age.
“There’s plenty of stew,” the woman said, and turned to one of the younger girls. “Eleni, please get another bowl.”
Staring at me all the while, she did as her mother asked.
As I drew near the firelight, the woman’s eyes widened. She grasped the bowl with tense fingers and looked from Navara to me in perplexed awe. She must not have previously recognized the princess with her cropped hair and desperate hunger, but she did now. The huntsman had been correct that we were too easy to identify as a pair: the lovely, kind princess and the fair, imposing foreign queen.
The woman plunged into a curtsy. “Forgive me. Sev told us to expect company, but he did not extend the courtesy of telling me who. I would have”—she gestured, frazzled—“prepared more suitable accommodations.”
“This is far better than suitable,” Navara assured her. “We’ve been wandering in the wilderness. Your hospitality alone is a luxury, and this stew is as delicious as anything the palace cooks ever prepared for me.”
Gracious. Artful. This princess knew how to interact with her people.
The woman seemed near to tears. “My name is Melda Segona. I’m Severo’s mother, and these are his brothers and sisters.” She pointed to each of the children. “The girls from oldest to youngest are Stasi, Leda, Eleni, and Margala. The boys are Jeno, Lukas, and Narios.”
The children regarded us with a range of expressions, from awestruck to mistrustful. “Mama, is that the princess?” the youngest girl asked.
“Eat your dinner. It’s almost time for bed.”
“Are they sleeping here?”
Without looking at us, the mother said, “Yes, Margala. You’ll share a bed with Leda tonight.”
