Seraphina

by Rachel Hartman

  A feeling rose in me, and I just let it, because what harm could it do? It only had another thirty-two adagio bars of life in this world. Twenty-four. Sixteen. Eight more bars in which I love you. Three. Two. One.

  The music ended and I let him go, but he did not let go of me. “One minute, Phina. I have something for you.”

  He led me toward the stage, up the steps, and into the wing where I had already spent much of the evening. In the corner sat Glisselda’s coffee flask, long empty; beside it was a small bundle wrapped in cloth that I had not disturbed, not knowing who it belonged to. He picked it up and handed it to me.

  “What is it?”

  “Obviously, you won’t know until you open it,” he said, his eyes glittering in the half light. “Happy New Year!”

  It was a slim volume, calf-bound. I opened it and laughed. “Pontheus?”

  “The one and only.” He was standing right next to me, as if to read over my shoulder, not quite touching my arm. “It’s his final book, Love and Work, the one I mentioned before. It is, as you might expect, about work, but also about thought and self-knowledge and what is good in life, and …”

  He trailed off. There was, of course, one other word in the title. It sat between us like a lump.

  “And truth?” I said, thinking it a neutral subject and realizing too late that it absolutely wasn’t.

  “Well, yes, but I was going to say, er, friendship.” He smiled apologetically; I looked back at the book. He added: “And happiness. That’s why he’s considered mad. Porphyrian philosophers all sign a pact to be miserable.”

  I couldn’t help laughing, and Kiggs laughed too, and Guntard, who was in the middle of a shawm solo just then, glared at us backstage gigglers.

  “Now I’m embarrassed,” I said, “because I have nothing for you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” he said vehemently. “You gave us all a gift tonight.”

  I turned away, my heart pounding painfully, and saw, through the gap in the curtains, Dame Okra Carmine standing in a doorway across the hall, urgently waving her long green sleeve. “Something’s happening,” I said.

  Kiggs did not ask what, but followed me down the steps, through the whirl of dancers, and out into the corridor. There Dame Okra Carmine pulled on Comonot’s arm, preventing him from going anywhere, while bemused guards hesitated nearby, unsure whose side to take.

  “He claims he’s going for a nap, but I don’t believe him!” she cried.

  “Thank you, Ambassadress,” said Kiggs, unsure why Dame Okra should be involved in this at all. I’d have to invent some reason. All the weight of this night came crashing down on me again.

  Comonot, arms crossed and jaw set, watched as Dame Okra gave sarcastic courtesy and returned to the party. “Now that we’re free of that madwoman,” he said, “might I be permitted to go about my business?”

  Kiggs bowed. “Sir, I’m afraid I must insist that you take a guard or two with you. We have some concerns for your safety this evening, and …”

  Comonot shook his head. “Still convinced there’s a plot against me, Seraphina? I wish I could look at that memory of yours. Your paranoia in this matter is almost enough to have me looking over my shoulder. That’s another human-body response, isn’t it? Fear of the dark and the unknown? Fear of dragons?”

  “Ardmagar,” I said, deeply disturbed that he had mentioned my maternal memory so cavalierly, “please just humor us in this matter.”

  “You have precious little to go on.”

  “The peace depends upon your continued leadership,” I pleaded. “We have a lot to lose if anything happens to you.”

  His eyes sharpened shrewdly. “Do you know who else it depends upon? The Royal House of Goredd—one of whose princes, if I recall correctly, was recently murdered. Are you watching your own as hawkishly as you’re watching me?”

  “Of course,” said Kiggs, but the question clearly took him aback. I could see him trying to account for the whereabouts of his grandmother, aunt, and cousin, and coming to the disturbing conclusion that he didn’t know where any of them were.

  “I know you don’t know where your auntie is,” said Comonot with a disconcerting leer.

  Kiggs and I stared at him in horror. “What are you implying, Ardmagar?” said Kiggs, a tremor in his voice.

  “Merely that you aren’t as observant as you think,” said Comonot, “and that—” He broke off abruptly; his face paled. “By all that glitters, I’m as stupid as you are.”

  He took off at a run. Kiggs and I were on his heels, Kiggs crying, “Where is she?”

  The Ardmagar turned up the grand marble stair. He took the steps two at a time. “Who did the assassin intend to stab,” cried Comonot, “before he settled for Seraphina?”

  “Where is Aunt Dionne, Ardmagar?” Kiggs shouted.

  “In my rooms!” said the saar, who was panting now.

  Kiggs sprinted past him up the stairs, toward the royal family’s wing of the palace.

  Comonot and I reached his quarters at the same time; Kiggs had arrived well before us with a few guards he’d picked up along the way. We entered just as a guard rushed back out, and we soon saw why: Kiggs had sent him running for the physician.

  Kiggs and the other guard helped Princess Dionne off the floor, trying to get her into a semi-upright position on the couch. Kiggs reached a couple of fingers into her mouth, trying to make her vomit. She obliged, a sticky purple mess right into the guard’s waiting helmet, but she didn’t look any better afterward.

  She’d gone green; her eyes showed a disturbing amount of white, and she couldn’t seem to focus them. “Apsig! Wine!” she croaked. The guard, taking that as a request, began to pour her a glass from the bottle on the table, but Kiggs slapped the glass out of his hand. It shattered across the floor.

  “The wine has made her ill, obviously,” said Kiggs through gritted teeth, trying to keep his aunt from falling off the couch as she convulsed. Comonot rushed in to help restrain her. “How long have you had that bottle, Ardmagar?”

  “That’s not mine. She must have brought it with her.” His eyes grew wide. “Did she intend to poison me?”

  “Don’t be an idiot!” said Kiggs, letting his anger run roughshod over his manners. “Why would she have drunk it herself?”

  “Remorse at what she was about to do?”

  “That’s not how it works, you stupid dragon!” cried Kiggs, his voice choked with tears, wiping foam from her lips. “Why was she meeting you here? Why was she bringing you wine? Why do you think you can come to Goredd and playact being human when you know nothing about it?”

  “Kiggs,” I said, tentatively placing a hand on his arm. He jerked away from me.

  Comonot leaned against the back of the couch, stunned. “I—I don’t know nothing, exactly. That is, I’m feeling something. I don’t know what it is.” He turned pleading eyes toward me, but I did not know what to tell him.

  The physician arrived with three female assistants. I helped them carry Dionne to the bed, where they stripped her, sponged her, bled her, fed her charcoal powder, and examined the wine and vomit closely for clues to which antidote they should use. Comonot, who had no business seeing her unclothed, wandered in unchallenged and stood gaping at her. Kiggs paced the outer room.

  A terrible notion struck me. I turned to rush out, but Comonot grabbed my sleeve. “Help me,” he said. “I feel something—”

  “Guilt,” I snapped, trying to free myself.

  “Make it go away!” He looked nakedly terrified.

  “I can’t.” I glanced over at the commotion on the bed; Dionne was convulsing again. I felt a pang of pity for the foolish old saar. We were all at a loss, dragon and human both, in the face of death. I put a hand to his fleshy cheek and spoke as to a child: “Stay. Help as you can; she may yet be saved. I have to make sure no one else dies tonight.”

  I hurried out to Kiggs. He sat on the couch, elbows on knees, hands covering his mouth, eyes wide. “Kiggs!” He did not loo
k at me. I knelt before him. “Get up. This isn’t over.” He looked at me blankly. I let myself touch his disheveled hair. “Where’s Selda? Where’s your grandmother? We need to make sure they’re safe.”

  That did it. He leaped to his feet. We rushed to their respective suites, but neither Queen nor princess was napping in her own bed. “Glisselda intended to talk to her,” Kiggs said. “They’re probably together. In the Queen’s study, or …” He shrugged. I turned that direction, but he grabbed a lantern, caught my arm, and took me through a concealed door in the wall of the Queen’s bedroom into a maze of passages.

  The way was narrow; I walked behind him. When I could stand the silence no longer, I asked, “You heard your aunt say ‘Apsig’?”

  He nodded. “The implication seems clear enough.”

  “That Josef gave her the wine? Was it intended merely for the Ardmagar, or—”

  “Both, without question.” He looked back at me, his face in shadow: “Aunt Dionne was supposed to have met Comonot at the cathedral.”

  “Thomas could not have mistaken me for her.”

  “I imagine he recognized you and decided on the spur of the moment that he may as well kill you instead. But recall: you saw Josef near the scene.”

  “You thought that was too circumstantial.”

  “I did until his name popped up just now!” he cried, the stress of the evening overriding his usual circumspection.

  We reached the Queen’s study only to find it empty. Kiggs swore.

  “We should split up,” I said. “I’ll check back at the great hall.”

  He nodded grimly. “I’ll mobilize the Guard. We’ll find them.”

  I was already reaching for Abdo with my mind as I scurried toward the hall. Abdo, find Lars. Wait for me near the stage. Can you see Dame Okra?

  Abdo spotted the ambassadress near the desserts, then told me he was off to the dressing rooms to find Lars. I reached for Lars to let him know Abdo was coming.

  I considered breaking my word and reaching for Dame Okra, but she had been cranky enough earlier and I needed her help now. I needed her power, odd as it was, to live up to its peculiar promise. When I reached the great hall, she was right where Abdo had indicated, having a lively conversation with Fulda, the reclusive dragon ambassador. I skirted the dancing couples, marveling that anyone still had the energy for a volta when it must be nearly dawn. I drew up beside Dame Okra and said, “Pardon me, Ambassador Fulda, but I need to steal Dame Okra for one moment. I fear it’s urgent.”

  The good manners were more for her benefit than his. She drew herself up importantly—it didn’t make her any taller—and said, “You heard her, Fulda. Shoo.”

  Ambassador Fulda’s eyes shone as he stared at me. “So you’re Maid Dombegh. I am intrigued to make your acquaintance at last.”

  I stared back at him, wondering what he’d heard.

  “Oh, fie!” cried Dame Okra, swatting him. “She’s no more special than I am, and you’ve known me for years. Come, Seraphina!” She took my arm and hauled me away. “All right, what do you want?” she said when we were off in a corner by ourselves.

  I took a deep breath. “We need to find the Queen and Glisselda.”

  “They’re not in the study, I suppose?”

  I goggled at her. “What does your stomach tell you?”

  “My stomach does not take requests, little maidy!” she said haughtily. “It directs me, not the other way around.”

  I leaned down into her froggy face, demonstrating beyond all doubt that I was not merely her equal in snarling but would surpass her one day. “You told me your stomach enables you to be in the right place at the right time. The Queen and Glisselda may be in mortal danger this very moment, so I’d say the right place is wherever they are, and the right time is before they come to harm!”

  “Well, thank you for the additional information,” she sniffed. “I do need something to go on. It’s not magic, you know. It’s more like indigestion.”

  “Is it pointing you anywhere, or not?”

  She considered a moment, tapping a finger against her lips. “Yes. Through here.”

  She led me toward one door of the hall just as Kiggs came through another. I called and waved; he darted straight across the dance floor toward us, scattering and confounding the dancers. Dame Okra didn’t wait for him but plunged into the corridor, toward the east wing. I followed her at a distance until Kiggs caught up.

  “Where are we going?” he asked breathlessly.

  “We’ve worked out the location of Glisselda and the Queen,” I said, dreading his next question.

  “Where are they?”

  “St. Vitt, how should I know?” growled Dame Okra, increasing her speed.

  Kiggs turned incredulous eyes on me. “What is this?”

  “She has a hunch. I trust it. Let’s give her a chance.”

  Kiggs grunted skeptically but followed. We arrived at the door to his beastly tower. Dame Okra rattled the handle, but it was locked. “Where does this go, and do you have a key, Prince?” asked Dame Okra.

  “They wouldn’t be up there,” he grumbled, but he fished for his key.

  “How would they have gotten in?” I asked as the lock clicked.

  “Glisselda has a key. It’s not impossible, but it’s not plausible either—” He stopped short. Hollow voices echoed down the spiral stair. “Saints’ bones!”

  Dame Okra made as if to stomp straight up the stairs, but Kiggs stopped her, staring upward intently. He put a finger to his lips and moved silently, a hand on the hilt of his sword; we followed his lead. The door at the top was slightly ajar, letting light and sound drift down toward us. We heard laughter and three … no, four different voices. Kiggs motioned us to stay still.

  “That’s plenty. Lovely,” said a voice I took to be the Queen’s.

  “Thank you!” chirped a voice that was clearly Glisselda’s. “Shouldn’t we wait for my mother and Cousin Lucian?”

  A third voice made a muffled reply, followed by the clink of glass upon glass as another wine goblet was filled.

  Kiggs turned to us and counted down with his fingers: three, two, one …

  He threw the door open just as the Queen, Glisselda, and Lady Corongi toasted the new year with a glass of wine. Josef, Earl of Apsig, stood a little apart, the wine bottle in his hand.

  “Oh, there you are, Lucian!” chirped Glisselda, who stood facing the door.

  “Don’t!” cried Kiggs, lunging across the room toward his grandmother, who was the only person who’d put her glass all the way to her lips.

  “I thought there might be a lovely view of the sunrise from up here,” continued his cousin, registering his actions but slowly. Her face fell as Kiggs grabbed the glass from her hand. “What’s going on?”

  “Someone poisoned your mother. Something in the wine. We shouldn’t trust this wine either: I suspect it’s from the same source. Your glass, please, Lady Corongi,” said Kiggs. Lady Corongi handed over her glass, looking scandalized.

  “I hope you’re wrong,” said the Queen, sitting down shakily on a stool. She leaned her elbow against a nearby table covered with books and charts. “I fear I had a swallow of mine before you burst through that door.”

  “We need to get you to the physicians,” said Dame Okra, a certainty in her voice that no one dared question. She helped the Queen to her feet and led her to the stair.

  “Dr. Ficus is at the Ardmagar’s suite,” Kiggs called after her, “but Dr. Johns should be—”

  “I know where we’re going!” cried a cranky voice already halfway down.

  “Selda, you didn’t drink a drop, I hope?” said Kiggs, turning to his cousin.

  Selda leaned against the side of a bookcase as if she were dizzy, but said, “No. You burst in just in time. But what about you, Lady Corongi?”

  The old woman shook her head curtly. Whatever poison may have been in the drink, it could not have compared with the poison she glared at the Earl of Apsig.

  Jose
f had gone completely white. He handed the bottle to Kiggs and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Please,” he said, “I know this looks bad—”

  “I notice you haven’t poured yourself a glass, Earl Josef,” said Kiggs lightly, setting the bottle on the worktable. “You’re not a saar, are you?”

  “I am Samsamese!” sputtered Josef. “We do not partake of the devil’s …” He trailed off, and then turned wide-eyed to Lady Corongi. “You were counting on that. What was your plan, witch? The Queen and princess drink, you pretend to drink, you all collapse, and when I run for the physicians, what? You steal away in secret? You leave me to take the fall for your crimes?”

  “Are you accusing this noble lady of something, you monster?” cried Glisselda, putting a protective arm around the petite woman’s shoulders. “She has been my teacher for almost my entire life!”

  The whites of Josef’s eyes shone; he looked unbalanced. His lips moved as if he were performing some dread calculus in his head; he ran both hands through his blond hair. “Prince,” he croaked, “I can come up with nothing to persuade you. It is my word against hers.”

  “You gave my aunt a bottle of poisoned wine,” said Kiggs. His earlier ire had turned to ice.

  “I swear to you, I never suspected. Why would I question a gift her dear friend Lady Corongi told me to deliver?” He was flailing now, grasping for any argument he could. “You don’t know this wine here is poisoned—you assume so. What if it’s not?”

  “I know you were in the cathedral the day Seraphina was stabbed,” said Kiggs, absently rearranging objects on his worktable.

  “I saw you talking to Thomas Broadwick,” I said, folding my arms.

  Josef shook his head vehemently. “I was delivering a message for the Sons of St. Ogdo. It was coded; I had no idea what it meant,” he pleaded.

  “Liar!” I cried.

  “Ask her!” he shouted back, pointing toward Lady Corongi. “She’s the one who put me in touch with the Sons. She’s the one who supplies them with intelligence from the palace. She is the mother of all my troubles!”

  “Nonsense,” sniffed Lady Corongi, looking at his pointer finger as if it offended her more than anything he’d said. “Prince, I fail to see why you have not bound this miserable creature hand and foot already.”