I’m glad Kendal is taking Bea away from the castle and its bitter memories. If only I could follow them. I wish they were leaving our kingdom altogether, though. Since Thernrow is still in Errinton, it isn’t as safe as Lauramore. Still, anywhere is better than here, and if they must, they can slip into Glendon.
Bea sets the quill aside and stares out the window.
I drum my fingers against my hip and then snatch the quill back up. How is Rigel?
She reads my words and then frowns. I try not to fidget as she replies. The quill scratches against the parchment.
Angry and increasingly short-tempered, I read. He’s quiet and broody, and I know he’s thinking of you. Tears sting at my eyes, but I blink them away and read on. He’s arranged for a man to bring iktar to the villages. The people are grateful.
Penrith must have proved reliable.
A bell sounds, reminding me of the time. Bea tends my hair, and we share a careful, shallow conversation, speaking only of safe topics. There are so few, it’s difficult to keep it flowing. Soon we both fall silent.
Once finished, I study my reflection in the mirror. My finger brushes over the bare skin at my neck. I shouldn’t miss the pendant so much; it was a just a pretty thing. Almost every piece of mother’s jewelry is worth more.
But it meant so much.
“Almost finished,” Bea says with a smile, and then she leans in and whispers, “I have something for you.”
Her eyes sparkle, but at the same time she looks as if she might cry.
I nod, wary.
From the same pocket she tucked my note, she draws out a tiny velvet pouch. My heart stutters. I gingerly accept it and run my finger over the soft material, feeling the grain catch against my skin. I pull the pouch open, turn it over, and the contents fall into my hand.
A long, thin chain settles into my palm. It’s exquisite, and I would marvel over how fine it is but for the pendant hanging from it. I pick it up, and my hand trembles. Though secured to the chain, it’s not a pendant at all.
It’s a ring.
“Put it on,” Bea whispers.
Once over my head, the chain hangs almost to my waist. The morning light catches the stone, and the sapphire winks back at me from its reflection in the mirror.
“Rigel said to keep it hidden.” Bea’s words are barely audible, but I hear her well enough.
I tuck the ring inside my gown.
Bea runs a soft cloth over my dressing table, picking up the brush and other trinkets as she straightens things. She glances cautiously at the door and whispers, “He didn’t send a message with it.”
“It doesn’t need one.”
***
Dryal stands behind me. He’s as still as stone, but it feels as if he’s hovering. The evening meal is tense. It was inevitable Father would notice Archer’s absence, but I had hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. Father has attended very few meals. I don’t know why he chose tonight to be sociable.
I have little appetite, but I tear at a small loaf of bread.
“Do you know where they have gone, Seirsha?” Father asks.
I turn my head slowly, as if I’m intent on my supper. “Lord and Lady Archer?”
He narrows his icy gaze. “I do believe that’s who we’ve been speaking of.”
“Pippa enjoys riding.” I shrug one shoulder. “They most likely lost track of time. I expect they’ll be back any moment.”
Father leans closer. “Let’s not play games. You know where they are.”
I open my mouth, ready to defy him, when the red-haired princess comes strolling through the stone archway like it’s any other evening.
My eyes go wide, and I stare at her.
She ignores my expression and dips to my father in greeting. “Poor Archer is ill, Your Majesty. He sends his apologies.”
Father studies her, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I do hope he didn’t come down with something catching.”
Pippa waves her hand at the notion. “Don’t worry about me, Sire. I’m resilient.”
She tilts her head, waiting for him to challenge her. She knows as well as he that wherever Archer is, he’s in perfect health.
Instead, Father motions for her to be seated. He turns to Zander, who sits on his other side along with Rovert. He says something, Zander rises, and his attention again moves to the meal.
I let out a breath.
From several tables down, Rigel watches us. He doesn’t seem surprised by Pippa’s presence.
But where is Archer? Where is Bea’s family?
I burn to ask her questions, but I wisely keep my mouth shut. Even if Father doesn’t overhear, Dryal surely would. Still, I can’t stop myself completely. “What has Archer come down with?”
Pippa raises an eyebrow; her lips almost curve in a smile. “He ate something off—the poor man. I’m afraid my constitution is simply too delicate to stay with him. You know how unpleasant that can be.”
I bite my lip to hold back my smile. Archer is nowhere near the castle.
“I’m sure rest is all he requires.”
She nods and helps herself to a hearty portion of grouse. My eyes wander back to my plate and then rise to Rigel. He’s been careful to keep his gaze averted most of the evening. Instead of watching me, he converses with the Marquis and Marquise of Preywoth. The marquis listens to Rigel, intrigued. They must be speaking of the drachite. Rigel has that animated look he gets whenever he speaks of it.
I play with the chain at my neck. I feel complete again with the weight of it on my skin.
Feeling a little better after seeing both Pippa and Rigel look so unconcerned, I force myself to eat. I’m just swallowing my first bite when a shrill cry echoes outside the great hall.
My head snaps up. I know that scream.
Argus and another guard pull Bea into the hall, and silence falls over the crowd. She fights them but goes limp when she’s in front of the king. Her terror-filled eyes find mine. My heart is in my throat, but I am frozen in my seat.
Father glances at me, his face cold. “You shouldn’t have helped her family escape, Seirsha. It was a grave error in judgment. In mercy, I had planned to play unaware of her crime, but it’s impossible with the recent turn of events.”
Father dabs his mouth with a napkin and then makes a slow show of setting it down. “It’s unfortunate we must deal with this at such an inopportune time.” He stands, relishing the confused gazes falling on him. “Bring her forward.”
The guards drag Bea closer. Argus presses on her shoulders, and she is forced to kneel on the floor. Silent tears run down her face.
“Bea Woodley, you are charged with the murder of Crown Prince Calden of Errinton. How do you plead?”
Several people gasp, but most raise skeptical eyebrows at the slender, blond-haired girl. Bea gulps back her tears, and her expression turns defiant. She doesn’t answer but instead stares Father down.
Rigel rises. “Sire, please—”
“Enough!” Father bellows, going from controlled to livid in less than a heartbeat. “You will keep quiet, or you will find yourself in her place. You tread a fine line, Lord Rigel. Do not forget who is king.”
Rigel doesn’t stay quiet.
“This girl could not have killed Calden!” he says.
The lord sounds so convicted; I know there is no way the news has traveled to him.
As in a game of sport, the crowd’s eyes go from Father to Rigel and then back again. Many murmur their agreement with the lord.
“Argus,” Father says, his eyes still on Rigel. “Did you witness this crime?”
Argus's lips twist as if he’s relishing the moment. “I did, Your Majesty.”
This can’t be happening. I clench and release my hands over and over again.
Father, ignoring Rigel, turns his attention to Bea. “You were seen. No matter your answer, you will hang for your crimes. So I ask you again, did you kill Calden?”
Bea turns to me, a goodbye in her eyes. I
shake my head slightly, begging her to keep her mouth shut. Father’s lying. Already the lords are standing. No one is going to let her hang. She’s just a girl.
Bea lifts her head, her eyes hard. “I did. I killed him.”
Rigel sinks to his seat. With his jaw clenched tight, he lifts his face to the ceiling. Now that she’s admitted it, there is nothing anyone can do.
“Take her to the dungeons.” Father waves his hand, dismissing her. It’s impossible to miss the gleeful look of triumph just under the surface. “She’ll hang in the morning.”
I’m not sure when I began trembling, but I realize how cold I am when Pippa wraps her arm around my shoulders. I turn to her, crying.
Father goes back to his food as if nothing has happened. “If you can’t compose yourself, Seirsha, then go to your chambers.”
I turn to him, all of my hate bubbling over.
He tilts his head, studying me. His expression softens and turns to a gentle look of chastisement. “I warned you not to defy me.”
***
I cry into my knees in front of the hearth in my chambers. Pippa sits next to me, swiping at her own tears. She has nowhere to go. Archer’s on his way to Lauramore with Bea’s family.
I’m so grateful they aren’t here for this—though this may have never come to pass if we hadn’t spirited them away.
No. Father would have used the knowledge eventually. Bea was as good as hanged the moment she set foot from her cottage that night.
There’s a soft knock on the door, but I ignore it. The door opens anyway.
Dryal’s voice is unusually hesitant when he says, “Your Highness?”
I glance over, not bothering to hide my tears. His shoulders stiffen as if he’s uncomfortable witnessing my pain. Let him see. I’m not made of ice; I don’t know why I ever pretended to be.
He gazes past me at the fire. “I will escort you to the dungeons if you wish it.”
I scrub away a tear with the palm of my hand. “Are you allowed to do that?”
Meeting my eyes, he says, “No.”
Wondering if this is some sort of trap, I study him. “All right.”
He nods and then motions for us to follow him.
“You go,” Pippa says. “You need this time. I’ll be here when you return.”
I follow Dryal down the halls and deep into the underbelly of the castle. The dark is oppressive, and it closes in on me. My skin crawls. In the dim light, it’s hard to see more than the shadows of the stairway, but it smells of filth and despair. I’ve never been this low, and I can’t imagine Bea here.
We reach the bottom, and I steel my resolve. I won’t cry anymore. I will be strong for Bea.
The jailer eyes Dryal with suspicion. His face opens with disbelief when I step into the circle of light cast by the lone torch. He starts to shake his head. “Dryal, this is—”
“You would leave her to weather this night alone?” Dryal motions to the cell behind the jailer.
I’ve already tuned out their conversation. I rush to the bars and cling to the cold metal. “Bea?”
She lies on the floor, facing away from the bars, curled up into herself on a dirty, woven mat. She lifts her head sharply when she hears my voice.
“Seirsha?” She pulls herself off the floor and rushes to me. “What are you doing here?” she asks, and then she bursts into tears.
I clasp her hands, unable to be as strong as I told myself I would be.
“I’m so sorry.” I gulp a breath. “There is nothing I can do…”
She nods vigorously. “I know.”
“Where is Kendal?”
She wipes her face with her sleeve. “He’s down here somewhere. He didn’t let them take me without a fight.”
“What will happen to him?”
“They said he will be released after…”
Her words hang between us, but my mind can’t make sense of them. Bea is going to die tomorrow. She won’t be here with me anymore. How can that be? How can she simply cease to exist?
Pulling me away from the hysteria I’m hovering near, Bea says, “It was either me or them.”
“What do you mean?”
“The king took me because he couldn’t punish Antone for leaving. I’m glad they are safe.” She straightens her shoulders, looking braver than I’ve ever seen her. “I’m glad it’s me.”
I shake my head. “Don’t say that, Bea.”
She smiles. It’s a horrible look of resignation, like she’s already come to terms with her fate. “But I’m guilty, Seirsha. I killed him.”
It seems so unfair. So wrong. So what if she killed him? He deserved it. How dare he live after what he did to her? He was hateful and evil and…
And if it were anyone else, I’m not sure I could justify it. Murder is murder.
But it’s Bea.
She squeezes my hands. “You were the best sister, Seirsha.”
Hot, ugly tears run down my cheeks. “Stop.”
“Tell my family that I desperately love them. Tell Kendal that he was a miracle I never dared hope for.”
I’m hiccupping now, barely able to breathe.
“Be happy, Seirsha. Promise me you’ll fight for happiness.” When I don’t answer, she squeezes my hand. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
We sit together, our hands clasped through the bars. We stay this way for hours, neither of us speaking, until Dryal pulls me away.
Halfway up the stairway, I stop, the pain of loss paralyzing me. I double over, my arms wrapped around my stomach, and I sob.
Without a word, Dryal wraps his arm around me, supporting me the rest of the way to my chambers.
***
A knock sounds at my door. I ignore it. I sit in front of the hearth, trying not to dwell on the reason the fire is not lit this morning. At the same time, I cling to every memory of Bea that I have.
Another knock. And another. Finally, the door opens.
“Dryal, I don’t want company right now.” I don’t bother turning.
“I’m not sure I can come back.”
I whip around when I hear Rigel’s voice. I’m off the floor and in his arms in moments. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to him, much less touched him.
“How?”
“Your guard allowed me to enter.”
Rigel softly kisses my brow and pulls me closer. The smell of soap clings to his tunic, and I breathe him in, burying my face against his shoulder. We stand like this for what seems like ages.
“Is it finished?” I finally ask.
He’s quiet for a time, but then he nods.
The image of Bea hanging comes unbidden to my mind, and I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the picture. Rigel holds me closer, and I cry. Her life was too short, too unfair. If Father had taken care of Calden when he should have, it would have never come to this.
Rigel holds me long after my tears have stopped.
“But her family is safe?” I ask once I finally find my voice. I whisper the words because Dryal is just outside the door. Even after last night, I don’t trust him.
“They should be in Lauramore by now.”
They’re gone. All gone. Rigel’s arms tighten around me, reminding me that I’m not completely alone.
We stay like this for a long while, and I soak up his quiet comfort. A songbird warbles from the nearby windowsill. His silhouette is distorted through the opaque glass, but his song is clear enough.
How can he sing like that when my life is misery? How can the world go on as if nothing has happened? But that’s what Bea wanted, isn’t it? She wanted me to find happiness. More, she wanted me to fight for it.
“The ring is beautiful,” I say.
Still holding me close, he runs his hand through my hair. “I would rather it be on your finger.” He nods, as if coming to a silent conclusion. “Soon.”
I wish we could stay like this all day, but we both know it’s not safe. Long before I would like, Rigel tells me he must leave.
“When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try to send you messages through Pippa.”
After a soft kiss, he’s gone.
The room is cold and empty, and I sit at my dressing table feeling lost and alone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A dragon warms herself on the rocky peak near the castle. She glistens in the sunlight, and her scales shine gold in the light. She’s one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, even if she is terrifying. But she’s not my dragon. Where is Adrinel?
The gold dragon glances my way, sensing my presence. I watch her, my heart in my throat. Caring little for me, she turns her face back to the sun. Even the dragons like summer in Errinton.
In the village below, people mill about. Guards talk, peasants scurry about their tasks, and children wander in the streets. None notice I am here, watching them. A person would have to crane their necks and look into the bright, afternoon light to see me on my perch.
Somewhere down there, Dryal may be trying to find me. It gives me satisfaction to have slipped away. Already three weeks have passed since I lost Bea, and it’s the first time I’ve accomplished it.
I stretch my toes and shift to find a more comfortable position. I haven’t been to this tower in years. I used to come here when I was young, right after Mother died. It’s a dangerous spot. The stairway is narrow, and the arched window is crumbling. No one comes up here. With Errinton’s slow demise, few have cared to fix it.
I sit on the window ledge, and my feet dangle under my skirts. The dragon stretches her wings, gives me a last glance, and then leaps into the sky. My eyes follow her until she disappears over the horizon. I feel acutely alone now that she’s gone.
A rider in the distance catches my attention, and my eyes drop from the sky. His pace is fast as if he is being pursued. I search the road behind him but see nothing. He only slows once he reaches the village gates, but his speed is still startlingly urgent. He pulls up sharply in front of the castle entrance, and his poor horse tosses her head and sidesteps to catch her balance.
The rider calls something, but his words are muffled by the distance. The guards, who were enjoying their lazy afternoon only moments ago, immediately stand at attention. It’s only a matter of minutes before Zander runs from the front gates and meets the man. The steward listens, shakes his head and raises his hands in question. The messenger is adamant about something, and his hands move quickly as he speaks. Zander’s shoulders droop. Looking ashen, he turns to the guard next to him.
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