The Essence

by Kimberly Derting

  “Astonia and New Rome,” Zafir answered, naming Elena’s and Thea’s nations.

  I thought about the map, the one marked with my route to the summit, and I wondered if it could have originated in any one of those countries. If the traitor were Astonian, New Roman, or Solarian.

  I wondered if I’d killed the queen of the traitor.

  Even now, the thought made me sweat inside my coat.

  “I missed you too, Charlie,” Max said, bringing me back to the present. “More than I can ever say. When I saw that rider approaching the palace . . . When he told me what he’d seen on the road . . . Brook’s men . . .” He’d already said this, or at least tried, half a dozen times. He couldn’t seem to finish his thoughts, but I knew.

  “Max . . .” I tried to grin, to show him I was okay. “I’m fine. And look, we’re together now. We’ll be home in no time, and everything’ll go back to normal, right?”

  He bent down and leaned his chin against the top of my head. “Not really, Charlie. We’re not going home. Not yet.”

  I jerked back. “What are you talking about? Then where are we going?”

  His charcoal eyes crinkled. “Relax. We’re going south, to the estate where your parents and Angelina have been staying.” He sighed, his voice dropping so no one else could hear us. “We still don’t know who the traitor is, and even though I’m sure Brook’s father is somehow behind this whole thing, we still haven’t managed to capture him. Until we have him in custody, I’d feel better—we’d all feel better—if you stayed away from the palace.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Just like you all thought I should go to the summit?” I questioned, sounding intentionally dubious of their plans. So far, I wasn’t convinced that any of us really knew what we were doing.

  Max shrugged. “It wasn’t our idea to go south, actually. It was Bartolo’s.”

  Again, conflict roiled through me as I wondered how much faith should be afforded to Niko Bartolo. On the one hand, I knew he’d never let anything happen to Sabara. But could I honestly say that same concern extended to me?

  I supposed it had to. At least for as long as she was inside me.

  “So, what’s his plan, exactly?”

  Max shook his head, his fingers threading through mine now, and my pulse picked up. His gaze fell on someone behind me, and I knew immediately that we were no longer alone. “I’ll let him explain it to you.”

  We all sat around a banged-up metal table below deck. The coal furnace filled the room with so much heat it was stifling and hard to breathe. I almost preferred the cold.

  I stripped out of my hat and coat, and laid my gloves in front of me, looking around at those who were privy to this information. Since we could only afford to share the details with those we knew—without a doubt—could be trusted, we made for a pathetic assemblage. There were seven of us in all. Aside from me and Max, there were Brook and Aron, Claude and Zafir, and Niko.

  “We’re going to try to draw the traitor out,” said Niko. “Once we reach the palace, we’re going to take you, along with a small band, and head south to where your family is staying. We’ll slip away so that no one knows we’re gone, and hopefully when he tries to make contact with his—”

  “Or her,” Aron interrupted and everyone looked up at him at once. “What? You’re talking as if we’re certain the traitor is a man, as if it can’t possibly be a woman. But Brook could just as easily be an assassin as she could be a soldier.”

  Brook grinned at Aron, taking his words as a compliment.

  “He’s right,” I admitted. “It could just as easily be a woman.”

  Niko just shook his head. “When the traitor tries to make contact with his or her,” he amended, “people, they’ll come to the palace looking for you. And when they get there . . .”

  Brook’s eyes widened. “It’ll be a trap!” she exclaimed, slamming her fist enthusiastically on the rusted tabletop. “I love it. So which group do I get to be in? Please say trap, please say trap.” She crossed her fingers on both hands, hoping to be part of the ambush.

  Max was already shaking his head, but it was Niko who answered. “Sorry, Commander. We need you to be with the queen and her family. Their safety will still be of the utmost importance.” I hated that I knew what he really meant: that Sabara’s safety was of the utmost importance.

  “I don’t get it,” I said, wondering if I’d missed something. “Won’t they know I’m not at the palace? Wouldn’t it be obvious that I’m missing?”

  “No,” Niko said, sounding more sure than I thought he should. “We’ll have a stand-in for you. Someone pretending to be you.”

  “Where are you going to find someone to be me? Who could you get to fool the guards?”

  Niko signaled to Claude, who opened the door.

  We all watched silently, while the furnace continued to pump out that oppressive heat.

  A girl stepped inside, and I frowned. It was Avonlea.

  “She can’t . . . ,” I started to say, realizing that Niko meant for Avonlea to take my place. “She looks nothing like me. No one would ever believe it.”

  She smiled then, a small slip of a smile that was almost a non-smile, as she reached for her hat. When she pulled it off, her hair fell free. Only it wasn’t her hair. It was mine. Silver-blond strands that spilled around her face.

  “What . . . ? How?” I got up from the table to stand before her. I was amazed. Mesmerized.

  I thought of all the nights Brook and I had spent in the clubs, of the rainbows of colors we’d seen people dye their hair for the night. Temporary colors that would never be allowed out in public. But those were colors.

  This, what Avonlea had done to her auburn-streaked hair, was the exact opposite. This was the absence of color, as if she’d somehow stripped the fiery hues from her hair.

  “It’s not possible,” I said at last.

  “It was a gift,” Max said, coming to stand behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders. “From Queen Neva.”

  I reached for Avonlea, fingering a strand of her hair. It felt like mine too. “What did she do to you?”

  Avonlea blushed, and even her almost-blue eyes seemed, somehow, bluer.

  It was Niko who answered. “Neva knew you were in trouble and she offered to use her gift to protect you. This is what she can do—create illusions.”

  I stared at Avonlea, and thought about the way Neva had hugged me, about the way she’d told me to be safe. She’d known the plan and had wanted to help.

  “Is it permanent?” I asked.

  Niko shook his head. “It’ll start wearing off in a few days. By the end of the week, she’ll be completely back to normal. We’ll have to act quickly. For her part, Avonlea will need to keep to herself as much as possible, stay in your rooms and pretend she’s not feeling well.” Niko turned to Avonlea. “Think you can manage that?”

  She looked at Niko like he was simpleminded. “If you’re asking if I can lie in bed all day while other people wait on me?” Her Scablander inflection was still firmly in place. “I imagine I can handle it.”

  “Yeah, well don’t get too comfortable,” Brook cautioned.

  I wrapped my arm around Avonlea. “I don’t know, you guys, I think I could get used to this. I kinda like having someone else acting as the queen.”

  Avonlea pulled away, but she was grinning back at me. “I wouldn’t take your job for nothing,” she groused. “A few days, sure. But I saw the way those other queens were. Odd bunch, those ones. I’d sooner take my chances with Floss than deal with the lot of them.”

  We didn’t even have to ride an entire day before we reached the train line, and then it was less than two days’ travel by rail. Both were heaven compared to the ferry, which was either too cold above board or too hot below. And far better than being at Vannova, where I’d been shackled by the weight of my secrets and burdened by guilt.

  At least on the train I could be myself again. There were no rules to abide by. No etiquette I had to follow in order t
o avoid offending anyone.

  The only challenge was sleep, because that was when my defenses were down and Sabara’s presence was strongest. I dreamed still. My dreams, and hers, until sometimes I couldn’t tell the two apart.

  In one, I dreamed of a newborn baby. She didn’t cry or kick, didn’t breathe at all. She was a beautiful child, so small and fragile. And so very, very still.

  I held her, rocking her in my arms as I whispered a lullaby in a broken language I didn’t recognize. Yet that didn’t stop me from understanding the haunting words.

  Close your sweet eyes

  Life doesn’t last long

  You’d better go sleeping

  Flying through dreams

  Close your sweet eyes

  ’Cause life is a lie

  Find happiness in dreams

  And good night, my child. . . .

  A knife pierced my chest as I clutched her to me, filling me with so much ache I wanted to open my mouth and shriek, to howl and bawl and pound my fists against everything and everyone. When I opened my mouth again, nothing came out, just a hoarse thread of whimpers that meant nothing, that said nothing.

  Then he was there, taking the baby from me, and I knew: She was ours. Mine and his.

  I glanced up, into his golden eyes, and back down at the downy patch of golden hair on her tiny, lumpy skull. I wanted to press one more kiss there, to feel that feathery hair against my lips, but he was already wrapping the blanket over her face. Concealing her. Hiding her.

  And, soon, he’d bury her, too.

  There were other births, and other graves, but never that same sense of loss. Even in the dream, I wondered: How many babies had Sabara conceived? How many children had she outlived?

  Her life was my worst nightmare, losing those whom I loved. Yet she’d done it for decades, centuries, eons.

  All except for Niko.

  Niko, who came back to her time and time again . . . in a never-ending migration of leaving her just so they could be together once more.

  When I rolled over, I fell into arms that enveloped me, and the scent of soap and leather and musk tempted me from sleep. They were Max’s smells.

  “You were crying,” Max said quietly over the sounds of the train around us. “Bad dream?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could tell him everything—about Sabara and Niko, and about Queen Langdon. Instead

  I whispered back, “Too many to count,” and nestled closer.

  But I wasn’t just nestling, I was reaching for him, pulling him to me. We’d been apart for too long, and I suddenly understood a little of what Sabara must have felt, being away from Niko.

  I needed Max to stay with me. I needed him to kiss me. To never let me go again.

  I clung to him, my hands moving across his bare chest, gently at first, and then not so gently as my fingers dug insistently into his skin.

  Tiny earthquakes started in the pit of my stomach, and then trembled outward, raging until I felt like everything about me might shatter into a million tiny pieces. That was how his lips found mine, trembling . . . quivering with a need I had no control over.

  His breath was hot against my mouth, inside my mouth, as if he was the only thing keeping me alive. I pressed even closer, letting my tongue find his so I could taste him. I was afraid to open my eyes, not wanting to know if I was as alight on the outside as I was on the inside, but certain I was. Certain I must be.

  His hands were as desperate as my own, and his fists balled impatiently over the thin fabric of my nightgown, tugging and pulling and dragging, until I heard a rip.

  I felt his unrepentant smile against my lips, and I sighed. “How many of these are you going to ruin?”

  “As many as you put on, I suppose.” And then his voice dropped. “Maybe you should stop wearing them,” he suggested.

  My lips twitched. “And wear what?”

  “Nothing,” he growled and tossed me on my back, stretching out above me.

  I giggled and meant to shove him away from me—a game—but the moment my fingertips grazed his skin, I was reaching for him again, unable to stop myself.

  He dropped down, covering my entire body. “I’ve missed you so much, Charlie. I haven’t slept, I’ve barely eaten. I haven’t dreamed at all.”

  “Don’t . . .” I whispered. I couldn’t hear how he’d been hurting while I’d nearly let Sabara have control, when I’d nearly let Niko kiss me.

  “I’m just saying, it’s so good to be together again.” He rolled onto his side, dragging me with him.

  I leaned against him, so I could listen to his heart—my own lullaby, one I didn’t need to decipher.

  “Tell me what else has happened. Have you gotten any closer to finding Brook’s father?”

  Max shook his head. “He’s been quiet, at least in the Capitol. And Xander hasn’t heard anything in the south. I don’t think his people know where your family is, though.”

  I sat up so I could see him. “But they’re good? Happy?”

  He grinned back at me. “I already told you they were. Angelina’s started with her new tutor, and your father has taken over the kitchen. Xander wasn’t complaining. I think he prefers your father’s cooking over the palace chefs.” He stretched, keeping his arm around me.

  I settled back down, matching my breaths to his. “It’ll be good to see them,” I said, wishing we were already there.

  If it hadn’t been for me, we’d have had no trouble at all sneaking out of the palace.

  The plan had been simple enough, to leave under the cover of darkness, while the night would conceal us. But what everyone seemed to have forgotten—or at least underestimated—was that where I was concerned, darkness was relative.

  Sneaking out, I draped myself in the thickest, blackest fabric I could find, letting Max and Zafir lead me to where the horses had already been saddled and were waiting for us. I rode with Max so I wouldn’t have to uncover my face, which would have given us away in an instant. All we could do was hope that no one had seen us leave.

  Inside the cloak, I was suffocated. But I was with Max, and soon I’d be with my family, too.

  I had little to complain about.

  Avonlea had been given strict instructions to trust only my chambermaid, whom I would have trusted with even Angelina’s life.

  By dawn, there was enough light in the sky that I was able to come out from beneath the cloak I wore. For much of the ride, we saw no one. We stayed in rural areas or near tree lines whenever possible, following rutted roads overgrown with weeds. We gave a wide berth to villages and more densely populated areas, stopping only at streams and ponds to let the horses drink.

  I told Max all about the Scablands, and about the people I’d met there. I explained Avonlea’s situation, which I’d already talked about, but which I felt compelled to probe and examine, trying to figure out how things had gotten so out of hand in Ludania. How people had become a commodity.

  Max agreed with me, that changes needed to be made. We all did. When talk of reorder and revolutions and homecomings wore thin, I stretched and yawned, and stretched some more as I leaned back against him, closing my eyes.

  “Charlie.” I heard him whisper against my ear. “Charlie, wake up. We’re here.”

  I was alert in an instant, anxious to see—and hold—my family at long last.

  The estate where they’d been living was so much more than I’d expected, almost like a second palace. It was wooded here, surrounded by tall forests with old-growth trees draped with moss and vines. There were ferns and wildflowers and ponds. It was more remote and less manicured than the palace, but no less striking in its splendor.

  I guessed that this fell into the category of things I still didn’t know, of which there were more than I could count now.

  Xander was waiting for us, and behind him I saw my parents. Behind them, Angelina.

  Without thinking, I drew my heels against the horse beneath us, spurring Max’s horse myself. “Yah,” I cried out.
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  The horse responded, startling Max, who tightened his grip on both me and on the reins. “Dammit, Charlie, a little warning.”

  I was grinning though, at the same time tears slipped down my cheeks. “She’s so beautiful,” I breathed in response, unable to tear my gaze away from my little sister. Warmth sprang from my gut, spreading to my weary limbs. I was grateful Angelina was safe. Grateful we’d hidden her from Jonas Maier and his followers.

  But I wasn’t the only one who was anxious, and my father jumped in front of us, forcing Max to make an abrupt stop. When he grabbed me, I was no longer the queen. I was four again—his little girl. He swung me in a wide circle and then he hugged me to his chest, pressing fat kisses to my wet cheeks.

  He was talking, too, but I couldn’t hear him over my sobs. Then my mom was there, and we were a tangle of arms and hands and faces and jumbled words. I never wanted to let go. I never wanted to be away from them again.

  It wasn’t until I realized Angelina was still standing apart from us, that I peeled myself from my parents’ grasp. Angelina, who looked so alone there, worry filling her clear blue eyes.

  I held my arms open for her, smiling so brightly I was sure I’d blind her.

  She took a step away from me.

  I looked to my parents, and then back to Angelina. “What is it?” I asked. And when she didn’t answer, I turned to Max and Aron and Brooklynn. But all I could see was bewilderment in their faces.

  “Angelina . . . ?” I tried again, coming closer but feeling crestfallen. “It’s me.”

  She frowned, and then blinked, then turned and raced away from me, leaving Eden to run after her.

  brooklynn

  Brook sat on the steps and stared up at the moon. It was a different moon here than the one she’d been watching during their travels through the Scablands, different from the one she’d spied through the icy windows of Vannova.

  This was their moon—a Ludanian moon.

  She knew she was being fanciful, but she couldn’t help herself. It had been a hard journey and it felt good to be home, even if they were still sleeping in strange beds. Something about the warmer climate and the sound of Englaise on every tongue put her at ease once more.