“You came!” she said, shuffling her feet and smiling at the ground.
“Of course I came.” He tried not to roll his eyes. “I meet you here every day.”
“It’s still a surprise,” said Pip, wringing her doll’s hair in a way that didn’t look good for it.
Edison reached into his pocket and removed the small glass jar of tonic he’d made when his mother had been out in the field picking rosemary to dry out for her supplies. At least she wasn’t hovering over the parsley patch today. She must think he was stupid not to have realized she had something hidden in there. Little did she know the joke was on her.
“Make sure you give her the whole tonic,” he told Pip. “And don’t let her see.”
“I know, Edison!” Pip giggled, as she tucked the bottle into her doll’s skirt. “You’ve told me that a hundred times. But do you really think Mother’s going to get better? She’s gone back to her bed and her skin is looking a bit yellow. Are you sure it’s still working?”
Edison smiled to cover his nerves. He hadn’t thought Pip would notice when he switched over to the new tonic. “You’re doing a great job. Trust me. She’s getting better. Sometimes getting better can be tiring, that’s all.”
“And why can’t I tell anybody?”
Now, this he had told her a hundred times. But he’d tell her once more as it was important she understood she needed to keep her big mouth closed. “Because it’s going to be a surprise. Imagine how happy she’ll be when she’s all better and you tell her it was you who helped her.”
Pip smiled and he tried not to notice that her teeth were crooked.
He felt a sharp tap on his shoulder and turned to see Tate run past him.
“Catch me if you can!” Tate called out, not pausing his steps, his long mess of dark hair trailing behind him as he ran.
“See you tomorrow,” Edison said to Pip as he took off after Tate, doing his best to make chase, but knowing he’d never be able to catch up. Tate was faster than him.
Tate was also taller than him. And more handsome. And he definitely had more gold than he did. Tate was happier than him. And a nicer person. And he had a father. A father who was a King, no less. And a sister who loved him. Even his mother was prettier than Edison’s.
Just like Tate was beating Edison in this running race, he was also beating him in every competition life had to offer. Every. Single. One.
“You can’t catch me!” Tate called back to him, fanning the fire of determination in the pit of Edison’s stomach as he continued his chase.
Tate was right. He couldn’t catch him. Not now. Not yet. But one day he would. He was going to take down everything that Tate had, piece by piece.
He watched as Tate threw himself on the ground. Lying on his stomach, he reached out and picked up a stick. Edison puffed as he caught up to him, already knowing what Tate was doing.
Sitting down, cross-legged in front of Tate, he waited for him to draw a large square in the dirt, then divide it into eight columns and eight rows. Then Tate sat up to reach in his pocket for two bags of counters, throwing one at Edison.
As Edison caught it, he noticed how filthy Tate’s clothing was, with smears of dust on his white silk shirt and a tear in his mud-stained trousers. Those clothes were worth more than Edison’s entire wardrobe, yet Tate didn’t seem to care. If Edison had clothes like that, he’d take far better care of them.
They positioned their counters on the dirt in lines. In the back row was a King and a Queen with two warriors, two palace towers and two holy men. In front of them was a row of smaller pieces that Tate said were supposed to be called pawns, but they always called them Guardians.
Just like in real life, the job of these pieces was to protect the King. But it wasn’t the King that Edison was fascinated with. It was the Queen. She was the most powerful piece in the game, able to move in any direction. Without the Queen, you had no hope of winning and she could be taken easily if Edison didn’t concentrate, so he kept his eye on her at all times. He didn’t worry so much about the King, as at least with that piece Tate would have to warn him when he was in danger and he could move him out of the way.
“You want to start?” asked Tate, being annoyingly polite.
“No, you go,” said Edison. There were advantages in letting your enemy make the first move. It gave him time to think about how he’d react.
Besides, who went first wouldn’t make much difference. Tate would win today as he usually did. Edison had only managed to beat him three times and in every one of those times it was when he’d been able to take Tate’s Queen. It was only a matter of time after the Queen was gone, that the King would fall.
It was from playing this game, that Edison had first come up with his idea as to how he could beat Tate in real life. He was going to take Tate’s Queen. And once she was gone, all the other pieces would be left vulnerable, ready for Edison to win.
Tate’s hand hovered over the Guardians as he decided which one to use first. He always took forever to make his move, but Edison was patient.
The game he was playing in real life was a long one. Far longer than this game he played in the dirt. But this one was a game he had every intention of winning.
All he needed to make was a series of clever moves, taking one of Tate’s pieces at a time and ultimately he’d sweep the board.
One day he was going to wear that crown. One day he was going to be King.
Tate moved one of his Guardians forward and Edison responded quickly.
“I’m watching you,” said Tate, laughing.
Edison laughed in response at his foolish friend who wasn’t watching him nearly close enough.
TATE
THE BEFORE
Tate heard Pip scream and his feet started to run to her before he’d even had time to think about it. His sister needed him.
Pip’s screams were soon replaced by loud sobs and he followed the noise to their mother’s bedchamber. Pip had been spending a lot of time in there lately, sitting at the end of her bed watching her sleep. It wasn’t healthy. If only Edison had a younger sister for her to play with. But that was a bit hard given he no longer had a father.
Tate threw open the door to find Pip sitting beside their mother on her bed, shaking her by the shoulders.
“Wake up, Mother,” Pip cried. “Wake up!”
Tate paused as he took in what he was seeing. Was she… dead? No, she was just asleep. Like always. Pip was young. She couldn’t be expected to know the difference between a deep sleep and the deepest sleep of all. Although, now that he thought about it, he was still a boy himself. Did he know the difference?
“Move out of the way,” he said to Pip, scooping her up from the bed and placing her bare feet on the floor.
Taking her place on the bed, he sat down and studied his mother. She was very still. And pale. She had an odd smell about her, too. Normally she smelled like flowers. But not now. She was still beautiful, though, with her smooth blonde hair combed around her shoulders and her blue eyes closed to the world. Her white nightgown was buttoned right up to her chin and Tate listened hard, trying to detect some breathing. When he couldn’t, he reached up a quivering hand to touch his mother’s face.
When skin touched skin, he withdrew his hand as quickly as if he’d put it in the fire. Except his mother’s face hadn’t burned him. It’d been the opposite, for her face had turned to ice.
“Is she dead?” Pip asked.
“I… I don’t know.” Tate stood up and placed an arm around his sister, noticing her soft warmth in a way he hadn’t before.
They stood, side by side, and watched their mother, half expecting her to sit up and call to them so she could wrap them in her arms.
“I think she’s dead,” said Pip, breaking the silence.
“I think so, too.” His words felt like a betrayal, but it was true. She couldn’t possibly be alive.
They continued to watch her, trying to draw comfort from each other when the only person
who could offer such a thing was lying there in front of them like a block of ice.
“I killed her,” said Pip.
“You didn’t.” Tate squeezed her shoulder. “She’s been dead for a while, I think.”
“I’ve been switching her tonics,” said Pip, her voice little more than a whisper.
Tate let his arm fall as he crouched down in front of Pip.
“Quiet,” he said. “Don’t say another word. Not here. Not now.”
His caution came just in time as their father swept into the room.
“What’s all the howling about?” he asked, searching the wrong faces for an answer.
Tate pointed to the bed. “Mother’s dead.”
His father jolted at these words and rushed to his Queen, repeating much the same process Tate had used as he checked for a sign of life.
“Who found her?” A purple rash spread up his neck and his eyes darted around the room.
Pip shrank into Tate’s side and whimpered.
“We both did,” said Tate, determined to protect his sister. “Just now.”
“I’ll kill whoever did this!” their father boomed with such anger that Tate wondered if perhaps some love had existed between his parents.
Four Guardians appeared at the door, rushing to the King’s side when they saw what was happening.
Tate took this opportunity to drag his sobbing sister from the room. She didn’t need to see their father’s anger. More importantly, she didn’t need to hear it. She couldn’t possibly have been switching their mother’s tonics. Where would she even get a tonic to switch it with?
Then he remembered Edison’s sudden interest in his sister. An interest he’d put down to an awakening of feelings as they were getting older. He knew that he himself had begun to look at girls differently and just assumed Edison was the same. But what if his interest in Pip had been something different? Something that had more to do with his mother and less to do with his sister. But why would he want to hurt her, let alone kill her?
“Where are we going?” Pip squirmed under the grasp he had on her.
He loosened his grip and led her from the palace out into the strawberry patch, and down the path that led to the Guardians’ village.
“We’re going to talk to Edison,” he said.
“It wasn’t him!” said Pip. “I made the tonics myself.”
“I’m going to help you.” He stopped to look at her so she understood. “But not if you lie to me. Tell me now. Has Edison been giving you tonics to give to Mother?”
Pip nodded, as a flood of tears burst from her eyes. “He told me not to tell anybody!”
“I bet he did.” Tate took Pip’s hand and walked as quickly as he could to find Edison. He had no idea what his friend had been up to, but he was certain it hadn’t been anything good. If their father found out, he’d kill Edison. He might even kill Pip. Then who would Tate have left?
Now that his mother had gone, Pip was all he had left in the world.
PIP
THE BEFORE
Pip allowed Tate to drag her toward Edison’s house. It wasn’t fair! He was behaving all angry with her and all she’d done is what she’d been told. Edison had said the tonics would help her mother. He never said anything about them making her go dead. And she didn’t want her mother to go dead! She wanted her to play with her and tell her stories about princesses called Snow.
She was trying not to cry but it was hard not to. Her tears were coming out all by themselves.
“Hush,” said Tate. “People are looking at us.”
“People always look at us.” If Pip hadn’t been walking so fast, she’d have stamped her foot. Stamping her feet always made her feel better.
It was true, though. People did look at them all the time. That was why she’d been so proud of herself for sneaking the tonics into her mother each day. It wasn’t easy to do something like that when you were being stared at.
“There he is.” Tate pointed at the field beyond the village where the Guardians were training.
Pip kept her eyes on the ground. She didn’t want to see Edison. Not now and not ever. He’d tricked her! He’d made her kill her mother. He should be the one in trouble, not her. Although, the way Tate was looking at him, maybe he was.
Tate led her across the field, not listening to Pip’s complaints, until they were right in front of the person she didn’t want to see.
“We need to talk,” said Tate.
Pip dared to look up at Edison, only to look back down when she saw him scowling at her.
They walked into the trees and Pip held back as Tate jabbed his finger into Edison’s chest in a way that looked like it would hurt.
“What tonics have you been giving Pip for our mother?” he asked.
Edison held up the palms of his hands and took a step back. “Just something to make her strong. They’ve been working, too. Pip said she’s been better than ever.”
“She was.” Pip crossed her arms and gave her foot a stamp. “But then she got worse than ever.”
“I was only trying to help,” said Edison. “I swear it. Why else would she have felt better to begin with? She must have something else wrong with her. You know, on the inside. I can fix it! I’ll make her something new.”
“She’s dead, Edison,” said Tate. “Dead. And Pip here seems to think she killed her. Only, she didn’t. It was you! You killed our mother.”
“Dead?” The color drained from Edison’s face and just for the tiniest second Pip thought she saw him smile before he rearranged his face to look almost as sad as Pip felt.
“Dead,” said Tate, locking eyes on him. “And my father wants to kill whoever’s responsible.”
“But I didn’t!” Edison looked panicked now. “I didn’t do it. Tate, please, you’re the only friend I’ve ever had. Don’t tell your father about this. It wasn’t me! I swear it.”
Tate stepped away from Edison and let out a big sigh.
Pip watched with wide eyes, waiting to see what her brother decided. Had Edison meant to make their mother go dead? Or had he really been trying to help?
“Come on, Pip.” Tate took her by the hand and led her back out onto the field.
They retraced their steps of earlier and Pip wondered what the point of that conversation had been. Tate was making even less sense than a grown-up.
When they reached the strawberry patch, Tate stopped and bent over to make them the same height.
“Are you going to tell Father?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not going to tell anybody. And neither are you.”
“Why? Is Father going to kill me?” She’d never really felt like her father loved her, but surely he wouldn’t kill her dead.
“I don’t know.” Tate’s dark eyes were serious and she threw her arms around him, wanting to go back to yesterday.
“Did Edison mean for me to kill Mother?” she asked.
“I don’t know that either,” he said. “I don’t think so. I can’t see why he would. It must have been an accident.”
She bit down on her lip, wanting to ask one last question. “Did I kill Mother?”
“We need to go back inside,” he said. “Father will be looking for us.”
Pip followed her brother inside and went to her bedchamber and threw herself on her bed. Tate hadn’t answered her question. Which meant he was protecting her.
She’d killed her mother. She was an awful person. She didn’t deserve to be happy ever again in her whole life. She didn’t deserve to live.
RIVER
THE NOW
“Tate is your son?” asked River. “I’m sorry, Ariel, but I don’t understand. Edison was your son, not Tate.”
Ariel shook her head. “Technically, you’re right. In that Tate’s real name is Edison, which makes Edison my son. But that man lying dead in the dirt right there… that’s Tate. The real Tate. The true Prince of The Bay of Laurel. My son, Edison, is your husband.”
“You’re not makin
g sense.” River took Ariel by the arm and walked a few further paces away from the commotion. Ariel either wasn’t thinking straight or she was confessing things that nobody must overhear. She wasn’t even sure Ariel should be trusting her with such secrets. If they were true, of course. This seemed like something she was better off keeping to herself.
Ariel’s hands raked at her hair as her chin visibly trembled. “I swapped them when they were babies.”
“You what?” River took a step back, her hands cupping her mouth almost as if she’d been the one to do something so unthinkable.
“I knew Tate would make a terrible King,” said Ariel, speaking quickly as if the words themselves were desperate to be released. “The real Tate, that is. The man you know as Edison. I also knew my son would make a wonderful King. It almost killed me, it certainly killed my marriage, but it had to be done. It was the only way to save our kingdom from disaster.”
River pushed down the rush of cold that raced down her spine, wishing she had a chair to sit on. What Ariel was saying had to be true. Nobody would make up something as outrageous as this!
“You know I’m right,” said Ariel, clutching at her arm. “Can you imagine what would’ve happened to the kingdom with the man you know as Edison on the throne.”
River had to admit Ariel was right about this. Edison would be a terrible King. Dangerous. Whereas Tate would rule with compassion and thoughtfulness.
“How can any of this be true?” asked River, shaking free of Ariel’s grasp. Princes weren’t left in their cribs, able to be swapped by passing herbalists without anybody noticing.
“Just look at what’s right in front of you and you’ll see that it’s true,” said Ariel, avoiding her question. “Look at the color of my hair, the darkness of my eyes and you’ll see your husband reflected back. Sometimes I worry we look too much alike.”
“The King had blue eyes,” said River, her own eyes widening at the memory as her legs began to tremble. “And so did the Queen. And Pip.”
The Kingdoms of Evernow Box Set Page 86
