How . . . ?” I thought about what Niko had told us, about Brook’s soldiers being ambushed and left for dead. “How did you know?”
And then I saw just how weary he really was, and I wondered how hard he’d had to ride to reach me. I wondered if he’d slept at all. I got lost in his gray eyes, so unlike Niko’s. So like home.
“Where’s Brooklynn?” he asked as I studied him.
“She’s . . .” I frowned. “She’s not feeling well.”
“She’s drunk,” Zafir answered, apparently dissatisfied by the vagueness of my answer. I’d nearly forgotten about my guard, but it didn’t surprise me at all to see Claude standing by his side. And, of course, Niko was still there too.
Max’s gaze swept over me, only just now noticing the gown I wore and the way my hair was pinned back from my face. “Am I too late for the party?”
The corner of my lip ticked up. “The best part’s just begun,” I said quietly. Softly.
His brows squeezed together, almost despondently, as he leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. Not a kiss, but the promise of one. “I wish it were that simple, Charlie. I wish that was why we were here.” He squeezed me to him once more, the stubble from his cheeks catching my hair. “I’m so glad you’re safe. And I swear I intend to keep it that way.” And then over my head, but not releasing me, he said to the others. “Get Aron and meet me in the gatehouse. We need to talk.”
“I’m coming too,” I protested, wriggling free from his grasp. I was the queen, after all. I was the one in danger. I should be there.
Max just shook his head, as did Zafir and Claude. “You can’t go out there with all those men, not until we figure this thing out. It’s safer in the palace.” He turned to Niko then, and his next words made my heart stop. “Can you stay here with Charlie and Brooklynn?” he asked the ambassador to the Third Realm, the man in whose arms I’d just been. “Make sure no one gets close to them.”
I expected Niko to protest, to tell Max that he wasn’t a guard, nor was he a babysitter. Yet he did neither. He simply nodded.
I opened my mouth to protest, to tell Max not to leave the two of us alone together.
To tell him not to leave me at all.
But then I saw the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the blisters on his hands—likely from his reins—and I closed it again.
The sooner they resolved this matter to their satisfaction, the sooner Max could get some rest. And the sooner he’d be back . . .
. . . with me.
“Don’t touch me,” I told Niko, shrugging out of his grip. “In fact, just leave me alone. I can get back to my room on my own; I don’t need an escort.”
Sabara remained silent, a good thing since I wasn’t in the mood to fight with the both of them.
Niko let my arm go but kept up with my brisk pace. “You know I can’t do that, Charlaina—”
I stopped short and spun on him, fury and frustration making my vision blur. “I’m the queen of Ludania. I’m not Sabara. And, to you, I’m not even Charlaina. It’s ‘Your Majesty.’ That’s all it’ll ever be.” I wanted to sound firm, resolute, so I spun away from him. I couldn’t let him see the way tears stung my eyes, or how my hands shook. “Now, please,” I insisted, taking a breath and straightening my shoulders. “Leave me alone.”
I wasn’t sure how long I waited, but I knew he was gone now, that I was all alone in the hallway.
It would’ve been dark, except that I was still there, filling the space with too much light.
It would’ve been peaceful, except that Sabara was still there, filling me with too much darkness.
I climbed the curving staircase up to the second-floor landing. Here, even the sounds from the party were barely noticeable, and with each step I took toward my chambers, the tension in my shoulders eased.
“I wondered if you were coming back,” a familiar voice came from ahead, from where the glow from my skin hadn’t yet reached.
I recognized the voice, and for a moment, it sounded strangely like the one that should be trapped inside of me.
I was too tired to banter or play politics tonight, all I wanted was my bed. “I couldn’t very well stay at the party all night, could I?”
Queen Langdon stepped forward, her skin looking even more like weathered paper in the light I cast. “It didn’t look that way from my vantage point. You seemed to be . . . enjoying your company. I thought you might dance forever.”
I smiled, but it was small and sad. “No one dances forever,” I said, trying to brush past her. “Good night, Your Majesty.” But her fingers caught my arm, squeezing me tighter than should have been possible. My eyes shot up to meet hers. “What are you . . . ?” I squinted at her, frowning. “What do you want from me?”
Her lips pulled into a hard line as she appraised me, and I wondered what it was she was dissecting: my skin and its unnatural radiance? My pale hair and eyes? Or just an inexperienced girl playing the role of queen?
She just held me like that, watching me, peeling me apart and, I was certain, finding me lacking.
And then she said them, the words that nearly undid me. “I know who you are.”
At first I thought I’d misheard her, and certainly I’d misinterpreted her meaning.
I swallowed, and I tried to draw away from her. But she held me, harder even than before.
That feeling was back, that sick and sinking sensation that she was inside my head, that she knew things she shouldn’t—
couldn’t. Sabara felt it too, and she unfurled inside me when she should have been hiding.
She knows nothing, she promised me.
Queen Langdon’s lips pulled back, nearly resembling a sneer. If it had been dark—if I hadn’t illuminated the shadows—I might not even have recognized it.
But I did.
I heard her too. “I knew it.” And there was so much triumph, mixed with so much vehemence, in that single phrase that I stumbled backward. Yet still she held on to me.
Her face loomed closer, almost to mine, her teeth bared like an animal’s as her fingernails dug into my arms like claws. “I knew it was you. I knew you were in there.” But she was no longer talking to me—Charlaina, Queen of Ludania. She was talking to Sabara.
Her breath was bitter, vitriolic, and panic made me struggle to break free. It no longer mattered that she was an old woman and a queen. She terrified me. It didn’t even matter that she was hurting me. She knew my secrets, and that was far worse than anything I could imagine.
My heel caught in the hem of my dress and I heard the thin fabric tear, but I stumbled, losing my balance. I fell backward and she fell too. We landed, her on top of me, in a heap, and before I could even think clearly, I was shoving her off of me, trying to break free from her grasp.
It was far easier to free myself from her than from Sabara.
Sabara who came with me as I scrambled backward.
But Queen Langdon was fast for an old woman, and she got to her feet as quickly as I did.
“Leave me alone,” I said to her in the same way I had to Niko. “You don’t know anything.”
Her answering smile made my stomach drop. “Oh, but I do. And I won’t be the only one. You,” she said, reaching for my wrist and dragging me in the direction of the party. “You will answer to the summit.”
I can handle this. I can take care of her, Sabara uttered, making my heart sick. Let me take care of you, Charlaina.
I closed my eyes, my resolve faltering.
And that was all it took.
I felt my hand lift. I tried to put it down; I wasn’t even sure what I was doing—what she was doing—but it remained raised. And then my fingers curled, balling into a fist.
The electricity that shot through my body was like nothing I’d ever felt before, terrifying and exhilarating and humbling all at once.
It was like watching through a pinhole as my body did things I didn’t understand, my voice echoing inside my head, as I screamed at Sabara to Stop! Stop! Please, stop!
&
nbsp; But she didn’t, and I saw—not felt—Queen Langdon’s fingers uncurl from my wrist as her entire body seized. As her eyes widened with shock.
As her windpipe was crushed from the inside.
And she had no way to stop it. At that moment, she was as helpless in the face of Sabara’s whims as I was.
She reached for her neck, trying to undo what was being done to her. She flailed, and would have gasped, if only she could have.
But to gasp there had to be air.
And then I watched helplessly as she fell, her lips turning blue . . . and then white. And she stopped thrashing. Stopped moving at all.
I continued to scream at Sabara, straining against her invisible hold on me as well, yet all the while I heard her . . .
Laughing.
Niko found me there, crouched over Queen Langdon’s body.
“Charlai—Your Majesty,” he corrected himself, even though the matter of my name seemed foolish now. “What happened?” Unlike me, he was checking the queen, feeling for a heartbeat, putting his cheek above her mouth to find her breath.
But I could have told him: It was too late.
He glanced up at me, understanding reaching his eyes, and he let her limp hand drop to the floor.
“What happened?” he asked again, this time more gently as he spoke to Sabara.
I shook my head, tears clouding my vision. “I . . . she . . . It happened so fast. . . .” I wiped my face, trying to clear my thoughts.
But it was Sabara who cleared them for me. She had to be stopped, Charlaina. We couldn’t let her tell anyone.
“We?” I uttered out loud, my voice broken. I didn’t care that Niko was watching, or that I sounded insane. “We didn’t do anything. You did.”
She didn’t try to explain, or to convince me she was right. She simply repeated, She had to be stopped.
I didn’t think she was wrong, but I couldn’t agree with her methods. I stared at my hands—hands that had just betrayed me—and wondered how I could possibly agree with her.
She’d just killed a queen.
She’d just used me to kill Queen Langdon.
“It’s okay,” Niko pledged, gripping my shoulders fiercely as he stared into my unblinking eyes. “I’ll handle this. I’ll take care of things here. The important thing is to get you out of here.” He ran his hand through his already rumpled hair and then reached for the top button of his shirt and tore it open. “Go to your room and stay there. Don’t come out till morning. By then, I’ll have everything under control.”
I shook my head. What did he mean, under control?
“Go!” he insisted, grabbing my arms and shaking me once. The fire in his eyes left no room for argument, and I wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or relieved. “In the morning, we’ll make an excuse to get you out of here. We need to get you away from here and back to Ludania. You’ll be safer there.”
“But . . . what if I’m not?” I thought about everything that had happened, the threats on my life and the soldiers who’d been killed trying to protect me. “What if I’m not safe anywhere?”
I was too keyed up to sleep, but I somehow managed to stay still beneath the covers, mostly because I was afraid. Afraid to move, afraid even to breathe.
I worried that Sabara would come back. Or worse, that someone else would come for me, breaking down the doors to my bedchamber to capture me and drag me away. Take me to the dungeons.
Where monsters like me belonged.
Aron had gone to the soldiers’ quarters to meet with the others as soon as I’d come back. If he’d have argued, or even have asked to stay, I would’ve let him, that’s how frightened I was of myself. Instead it was just me and Brook now.
She slept her drunken sleep, never waking. Barely stirring.
Eventually Max came in too, but I remained motionless. I wasn’t ready to face him, not after what I’d done. Yet even with him sleeping on the floor, I could sense his presence like my own heartbeat. I could feel each breath he took calling to me.
I’d missed him, and I ached knowing that he was so close. That I could have him if I’d only allow myself.
xviii
“Charlie.” The voice was irritating and I rolled away from it, trying to wrap myself back in the darkness. But it came again, annoying and insistent. “Charlie, wake up!”
I groaned, throwing my arm across my face. “Go away, Brook. Can’t you find someone else to bother?”
The bed jostled, and I knew she’d plopped on it beside me. “I could, but I need you. Something’s happened.”
Alarm shot through me as I realized she could be talking about me. That I could be the something she meant.
I turned back toward her, trying to look interested rather than guilty. “What is it?”
She dropped down, so she was right at my face. I didn’t tell her that her breath was flammable, that I could still smell the alcohol lingering from the night before. This hardly seemed the time. “Queen Langdon died.” She whispered the words, her voice sounding ominous, maybe even accusatory—although I’d probably imagined that last part.
“What happened to her?” I asked, rubbing the grit from my eyes. I glanced down, only mildly aware that I was less . . . glowy this morning. “Who do they suspect?”
“Suspect? What are you talking about? She was a million years old.” Brook laughed, even though this was hardly a laughing matter. “She died in her sleep. But everyone’s talking about it. Some of the other queens are already preparing to leave. Queen Hestia claims it’s bad form to continue the summit under the circumstances. Empress Filis just said: ‘When a party’s over, it’s over. And this party’s over.’
“They’re both planning to be on the next ferry.”
I nodded, unsure what she expected me to say. All I could focus on were the words died in her sleep. I wondered what Niko had done. I wondered if he’d known a back way into her chamber too, if that was how he’d staged her death.
Shame choked me and I clambered to get upright, where the air felt less offensive, less critical.
“Where’s Max?” I asked, only just realizing he wasn’t here with us. Brook, too, looked as if she’d been up for a while. She was dressed and her hair was pulled back from her clean-scrubbed face.
“He and Claude are with Aron and Sebastian, making preparations. We’re leaving too,” she added, her brows raised as if she expected me to challenge the notion.
Again, I nodded. It was the right thing to do, to get back to Ludania. To sort things out at home—and with myself—before trying to negotiate such tricky matters as foreign policies and trade. Clearly I wasn’t ready.
Clearly I couldn’t yet manage Sabara.
Being on the ferry again stirred up a new kind of discomfort.
I didn’t like having Max and Niko together like this. We were too close—the three of us. Four, if you counted Sabara, and she definitely counted herself. She reminded me without words that Niko was still the most important thing to her by forcing my mind to wander, filling my head with all kinds of unwanted thoughts of him. My cheeks burned whenever he glanced my way.
Max, on the other hand, remained by my side and reminded me that I was still me. My reactions to him weren’t re-creations of someone else’s emotions. They were mine and mine alone.
I leaned into him, watching as tiny snowflakes flitted down from the cold, dead sky above. The flakes were too small to do anything but melt as they landed on our cheeks and eyelashes and hair. But the flurries were lovely, as if we were trapped inside our very own snow globe and someone had shaken up our world.
Shaken. That was an apt description.
“Do you regret coming?” Max asked as I stared absently at the swirling white flakes.
I smiled wearily. “I missed you. I miss my parents and Angelina.” It wasn’t an answer, but I didn’t have a better one yet. I needed time to process all that had happened.
I’d hoped to make a quick—and unnoticeable—escape from Vannova, but Neva had come t
o see us off.
“Be safe, darling,” she’d said as she made a show of watching while my soldiers were rearmed and Brook took inventory of their returned weapons. The elegant queen had leaned closer to me then, the warm skin of her cheek brushing against mine. “I don’t know what happened,” she whispered against my ear, making my blood run cold and filling me with apprehension so cutting I’d shivered. “I knew she was aged, but I’d expected her to at least survive the summit,” she’d said.
I’d relaxed then, releasing my breath in a cloud of steam.
“I wish we had more time to get to know each other,” she’d added.
That strange sensation lingered still, the one that warned me that no one, not even the queens—maybe especially not the queens—could be taken at face value. I’d replayed the conversation in my head over and over again, questioning every syllable, every lilt in her speech patterns, every subtle glance she given me as we’d packed to go.
I’d behaved like the epitome of guilt. Yet I was certain she didn’t suspect me.
“Perhaps another time,” I’d finally managed to say to her, and she’d squeezed me in such a warm and comforting way that I felt as if I were betraying a true friend.
On our way out of the palace walls, we’d passed Queen Langdon’s party, also preparing to depart. Her soldiers solemnly surrounded a box covered by a shroud fashioned from their country’s flag—green and gold and sapphire blue. There had been no doubt that it was her casket.
I’d turned to Zafir, my brow furrowed. “The writing,” I’d said.
Zafir noticed the same thing I did: the flag. “Yes. The language is a form of Gaullish. Solaris is one of the eastern queendoms.”
The Eastern Region was a vague thing, defined less by geography and more by the long-dead beliefs that had once allied them. Now, however, the only thing that truly linked them linked them was Gaullish, their shared language—in its various versions. “How many others are there? Of the queens in attendance?” I spoke softly, not wanting to be overheard.
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