Ash Princess

by Laura Sebastian

  He doesn’t answer.

  “My plan is a good start. You know it is and you know it can work, and if it does, the Kalovaxians will be divided, fighting each other until another royal family comes out triumphant. When we put together an army and attack, they’ll be the weak ones. It’s our best chance, and it might be the only one we get.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I wonder if he’s going to argue. “I’m coming in,” he says instead.

  I don’t protest. I don’t really want to. Dangerous as it is, having him near me is also reassuring. When I can see him and touch him, I’m somewhat more confident that he isn’t something a mad part of me made up.

  I can hear him slip from his guardroom, his sword clattering to the floor and his heavy boots stumbling over the stone floors. My door creaks open as he comes inside. I have no lock, but he closes it firmly behind him before turning to look at me.

  “You’re hiding something,” he says.

  I’m hiding so many things. The Kaiserin’s warning, my growing feelings for Søren, the genuine nature of my friendship with Crescentia. Even if I wanted to tell him what was wrong, I would have no idea where to begin. It’s easier for both of us if I keep lying.

  I give a shaky laugh. “I’m just worried. Can you blame me for that? I feel like I’m balancing on the edge of a cliff and even a slight breeze will push me over.” He opens his mouth and I know he’s going to offer to pull me out again. I’m not sure I’ll be able to say no twice. “I have it well in hand, though. You’ve seen it yourself. They all underestimate me and they won’t see it coming until my knife is buried in their backs.”

  When we were children, we would play a game where we would each pinch each other on the soft underside of our arms to see who would react first, who would cry out or pull away or even blink. This feels like that. Which one of us will show our fear first? It won’t be me. I hold his gaze and set my jaw, trying to radiate a confidence that I don’t feel.

  He sighs and drops his gaze. “You’re doing well, but I can’t help but think that if Ampelio were here, he would flay me alive for agreeing to this plan. I promised him I’d keep you safe, not send you into the arms of the enemy.”

  “Søren was your idea, Blaise, and it was a good one.” I hesitate, focusing on the wall behind him. If I look at him, I’m sure he’ll see my secrets laid bare. “He’s not his father. He isn’t cruel.”

  “I think you’re right,” he says after a breath. “But Artemisia is right, too. Your first kiss shouldn’t be with him.”

  I look back at him, surprised. His eyes are suddenly locked on mine with such intensity that I can’t look away. I don’t want to.

  “You said my first kiss was with you,” I point out, surprised at how quickly my heart is beating all of a sudden.

  “Well,” he says, taking a step toward me. Then another one. He only stops when there are mere inches separating us. When he continues, his voice is barely louder than a whisper and I can feel his warm breath against my cheek. “I was told that didn’t count.”

  His mouth moves closer to mine. I want to push him away, but I also want to pull him closer, though that desire surprises me. When did that happen? He’s my friend—the oldest, and in some ways truest, one I have. But there’s something more between us as well. Blaise terrifies me, but he also makes me feel safe. He reminds me of my life before, when I was cared for and protected and unscarred and surrounded by people I loved. How can a person be so many different things? How can he make me feel so many different things?

  Before I can think myself out of it, I tilt my head up to brush my lips against his. Because he’s right and Artemisia is right: my first kiss shouldn’t be with Søren. Even if he is different from his father, he’s still one of them and there are parts of me I won’t give them.

  For a second, Blaise doesn’t move and it feels almost exactly like how we kissed as children, like we’re going through the motions without any actual want. Just when I’m ready to pull away, his mouth softens against mine and he’s kissing me back. His warm hands grip my waist and bring me closer to him, their heat seeping through the silk of my dress. When he draws back, he stays close enough that I can still feel his breath against my lips.

  “I think even Artemisia would agree that counted,” I say lightly, reaching up to touch his face.

  He releases my waist and catches my hand in his. Something dark flickers over his expression and his grip tightens until it almost hurts.

  “The Prinz will be here soon, I’m sure,” he says, dropping my hand. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight.”

  The words come out hard, but I’m beginning to understand Blaise enough to know that he means them teasingly, like he used to tease me when we were children. The years since then have robbed him of that lightness, instilled everything around him with a weight that feels suffocating if you get too close.

  I laugh, but his expression remains unreadable, which is doubly unfair considering how my own doubt and hurt must be starkly written across my face. Cress and I have often talked about kisses—who we wanted them with, how we wanted them to go. She dreamed of a first kiss with the Prinz on their wedding day, like in one of her books. My imaginings were less picturesque, but they were certainly more than this. I never thought whoever I kissed would regret it the way Blaise seems to. He won’t even look at me.

  Embarrassment rises hot to my cheeks, but I force a smile and try not to let him see it.

  “Not to worry, I was saving stupid for tomorrow, or maybe next week. I haven’t decided yet,” I reply.

  He manages a smile, but he still doesn’t look at me. When he turns to leave, I’m tempted to call after him, but his name dies in my throat. I doubt he would have listened anyway, whether I’m his queen or not.

  BLAISE USED TO HATE HAVING me trail after him everywhere when we were young. He ran, he hid, he called me names, but still I wouldn’t leave him alone. We were exploring a tunnel in the abandoned dungeons below the palace when his patience finally ran out. He shut me in the tunnel and closed the door. I was in there only ten minutes when Birdie found me crying, but it was the most trouble he’d ever gotten in.

  “She’ll be your queen one day,” his father told him later. I don’t remember Blaise’s father as an angry man. He was the rare sort of person who listened far more often than he spoke, and never raised his voice. That day, however, was the fiercest I’d seen him. “If you want to be a Guardian, you protect her with everything you have, because without her there is no Astrea.”

  I can’t help but think about that day now, after Hoa has brought and whisked away both tea and dinner. Now the only thing left to do is wait to see if Søren will show up. Artemisia and Heron are still out, so it’s only Blaise behind his wall, and we haven’t spoken since he left my room hours ago. The quiet is awkward and heavy, like a wool cloak in the dead heat of summer. I feel like that child again, clinging to him when he wants nothing to do with me, even though I know that isn’t true. He’s here, he’s helping me, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t care. But maybe he’s thinking of his father’s decree to protect me. Maybe it’s his loyalty to my royal blood that keeps him here, not me as a person.

  The idea of it frustrates me.

  He had been the one to come into my room—even sending the others away first. He had been the one to bring up our childhood kiss. He had started it. I want to say something about it, but it would only lead to another argument and I’m so tired of fighting with him.

  My mother always shrugged off her romances, picking a new favorite for each season, though Ampelio was usually close and never fully out of favor.

  Not for the first time, I wonder how she did it. I only have to worry about the feelings of two boys and I already feel like I’m being pulled apart at the seams. It should be simple: one is my ally, one is my enemy. In a perfect world, that’s all either of them
would ever be in order to keep things uncomplicated, but there doesn’t seem to be any hope of that now. I can still feel Blaise’s lips, warm and soft against mine, even as I look at my reflection in the mirror and wonder what Søren will think when he sees me.

  If he sees me. It must be nearly midnight now and there’s no sign that Søren is going to come after all. Blaise and the others must have been wrong.

  “Why don’t you like Dragonsbane?” I ask Blaise when the silence gets to be too much.

  “I like her just fine,” he says, clearly taken aback.

  “You don’t, though,” I press. “Every time she’s mentioned, you look uncomfortable. She’s always your last option. You don’t trust her, but she’s saved so many lives—”

  “If they could afford to be saved,” he says before sighing. “I’m not…I get it. It’s expensive, keeping her ship running and her crew fed. I can’t begrudge her for needing reimbursement, but I’ve seen people die because they couldn’t afford her help. And the attacks on the Kaiser—”

  “She’s been a thorn in his side since the siege, you can’t deny that.”

  “Can’t I?” he asks. “Ampelio did often enough over the years. Those ships she attacked, the cargo ships? Who do you think crewed them? A handful of Kalovaxians and ten times as many Astrean slaves. Who do you think took lifeboats out before the ships sank? Who do you think drowned in chains?” His voice has turned hard and angrier than I’ve ever heard it.

  My stomach clenches at the idea of Astreans drowning in chains, helpless and afraid.

  “I never thought about that,” I admit quietly.

  He gives a slow exhale. “She’s done a lot of good, I won’t deny that. But the price…Ampelio thought it was too high, and I agree with him.”

  Before I can reply, a knock comes, soft and tentative.

  “Theo?” Blaise whispers, suddenly still behind his wall.

  “I heard it,” I say just as quietly, rolling out of bed and smoothing my dress down before walking toward my door. I’m halfway there when the knock sounds again, a little louder and not coming from the door at all. It’s coming from my wardrobe. I grab the nearest thing—a brass candlestick set on the bedside table—with my heart pounding against my ribs. The other entrance. I realize Søren must have found it.

  But how long has he been in there? And what did he hear? The thought sends me into a fresh panic, and I clutch the candlestick tighter.

  The porcelain knob rattles; then the armoire door swings open and Søren tumbles out, barely managing to land on his feet. Clumsy as it is, there’s a surprising amount of grace in the exit, especially considering that the wardrobe seems far from big enough to hold his broad frame. My dresses have been pushed to either side, and behind him, in the back of the armoire, I can just make out the opening of a tunnel.

  A tunnel in my armoire is certainly helpful to know about, though I’m embarrassed that I’ve never found it myself. Not that there was ever much of an opportunity to snoop before, with my old Shadows always watching.

  But how long has he been in there? If he overheard Blaise and me talking, I’ll have a difficult time explaining that away.

  “Søren?” I say, doing my best impression of being surprised. I drop my arm to my side and try to hide the panic coursing through me. “What are you doing here?”

  He straightens up, and his bright blue eyes move from my face, to my dress, to the candlestick in my hand. There’s no suspicion there, I notice. If he’d heard me talking about Dragonsbane as an ally, he wouldn’t look nearly so amused. I almost sag with relief, but manage to keep my expression surprised.

  “Sorry, I planned this to go a bit more smoothly.” He scratches at the back of his neck and gives me a sheepish smile. “Were you talking to someone?”

  I glance at Blaise’s wall and give Søren a shrug. “My Shadows,” I explain, gesturing to the walls. “I heard a noise and got a bit frightened.”

  He frowns and glances at the walls in turn. “Your Shadows are here? Even when you sleep?”

  My laugh is light and flirtatious. “I’m a very dangerous girl, Your Highness. The Kaiser wants to make sure I don’t incite rebellions or sneak off with crown prinzes.”

  “Ah,” he says, and though the room is lit only by the moonlight coming through the window, I can almost swear I see his cheeks redden. “Do you think they can be persuaded to look the other way for a night?” he asks.

  “Maybe if you ask nicely,” I say before pitching my voice lower. “Why? Were you planning on inciting a rebellion tonight?”

  Søren’s eyes glint with amusement in the moonlight before he turns his attention back to the walls. “I’m taking Lady Thora on a stroll. We’ll be back in a couple hours’ time. I can manage to keep her out of trouble until then,” he says in a voice I now recognize as his commanding Prinz voice.

  “Are you certain?” I tease. “It’s a pretty sizable job.”

  “Whose side are you on?” he asks.

  I know he’s joking, but the words send a jolt through me anyway, reminding me I need to be careful.

  “The Kaiser won’t like it,” Blaise interrupts. He’s pitched his voice lower and it sounds raspier. If I didn’t know it was him, I would assume the voice belonged to someone older. Someone unused to speaking.

  “The Kaiser doesn’t have to know,” Søren says. “And I’ll see to it that you’re handsomely rewarded.”

  Blaise hesitates, as if he’s actually thinking it over. “Two hours,” he says finally.

  Søren nods, triumphant, and steps toward me, taking the candlestick from my hand and crossing to the dying fireplace, crouching with his back to me. When he stands up again, the candle is lit. “Come on, then,” he says, coming toward me and slipping his hand around mine, pulling me toward the tunnel in the back of the wardrobe. “We don’t have much time, and I want to show you something.”

  “Oh, what could it be?” I ask innocently. “Troops? Weapons? What else does a rebellion need?”

  He glances at the walls before shooting me a warning look. “Careful, or they might change their minds,” he says, but he hasn’t lost the mirth in his eyes. Despite myself, I can feel a dose of giddiness coursing through me as well. His enthusiasm is contagious and his callused hand around mine is raising delightful goose bumps on my skin. I hope Blaise can’t see the effect Søren is having on me, or if he can that he thinks it’s just an act.

  See? I want to say. I can flirt with whomever I like, kiss whomever I like. It doesn’t mean anything with him and it didn’t mean anything with you.

  I need to get away from him as quickly as possible, so I follow Søren to the wardrobe. He holds the door open for me, but before I step inside, he draws me against him, shielding me from Blaise’s gaze. His head ducks so that our foreheads are nearly touching.

  “You look beautiful,” he tells me, his voice barely louder than a breath.

  He says it shyly, in a way that makes me wonder if he’s ever said that to anyone before. A wave of triumph washes over me. After all, there is no mistaking a comment like that for something platonic. He does actually like me. I try to ignore the other reactions his words bring out in me—the heat that rises to my cheeks, the goose bumps that rise on my arms.

  “Really?” I ask, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow. “And here I was just thinking I should have kept on that gray dress.”

  He gives a snort and motions me through the small doorway at the back of the wardrobe that’s just big enough to crawl through.

  THE TUNNEL IS NARROW FOR a good five minutes of crawling before it becomes tall enough to walk hunched over, single file. Another ten after that, it becomes the size of a regular hallway, like the tunnel I used when I first met up with Blaise. Søren falls into step beside me. We pass entrances to more tunnels as we walk, spidering out to who knows where. Tunnels that Blaise and I never
found when we were young but that might prove useful now.

  Though the candle isn’t bright enough to fill the whole tunnel, it casts a small circle of light around me and Søren. It’s enough to see that Søren has grime smeared across his cheek and sprinkled through his fair hair. Judging by the way he smiles at me, I’m sure I’m in similar shape, but I don’t mind. I prefer dirt to ashes, at least. I try to ignore the fluttering in my stomach that his smile sets off, but it’s such a rare sight on him that I can’t help but smile back.

  “You have something…,” I start, reaching up to brush the dirt from his cheek. His skin is cool under my fingertips, and rough from the ghost of stubble that lingers there. His eyes meet mine and I suddenly feel shy. I drop my hand and quicken my pace. “How did you find this tunnel, anyway?” I ask him.

  “The palace is full of tunnels,” he says, catching up with me. “It’s just a matter of looking for them. This one goes to my room as well, and a few other rooms in the north wing. There’s one tunnel that I think goes to the dungeon, but I haven’t tried that one.”

  “I’m a bit embarrassed I never realized there was a door in my wardrobe,” I admit.

  “Well, I suppose with your Shadows watching, you can hardly do much exploring,” he points out. I can’t very well tell him that I explored plenty before the siege, so I say nothing, and after a moment, he continues. “Are they always there? Your Shadows?”

  “Always,” I say with a sigh that I hope comes off as mournful but not whiny. “That’s why they’re called Shadows.”

  “Even when you sleep, though? Even when you change clothes?” He frowns.

  “There’s not much I can do about it,” I say, hoping he doesn’t take his chivalry to the next level and try to rid me of them. I’m not sure how I could talk him out of it without sounding suspicious. “Rumor has it that they’re eunuchs, anyway. The Kaiser doesn’t want to risk anyone damaging his property,” I add with a meaningful look. Even in the warm candlelight, he looks a little green. I wonder if he’s noticed his father’s interest in me like the Kaiserin said he had, but I can’t bring myself to ask.