“Fair,” Aphra said. “But the others will want to fight. They’ve been itching for it. We’ll need weapons, too, and as many mounts as we can spare. If we’re going to make a difference, we’ll have to move fast.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bo
“Our grandmother loved you, even though you never knew her. She wanted desperately to meet you and tell you herself, and I am devastated that you won’t get to hear from her lips how much she had planned for you. I am so sorry that you will never know her. You were so alike, in all the best ways.”
—from Bo to Vi
Hours later, in the frozen dark of early morning, the hidden attic door swung open and lamplight spilled into the room, rousing me from my fitful doze on Swinton’s shoulder. Brenna stepped into the room, face masked with exhaustion.
“How bad was it?” Swinton asked, and I turned to look at him, baffled. Seeing my confusion, he explained. “People in positions of power—the palace guards, the Shriven, the city watch—they’ve no reason to care about people like us. Poor people. They come into your house, they break whatever they want, they leave with whatever they want, they say whatever they want. There aren’t any consequences when they harass people like us, because people like you will never hear about it.”
Brenna nodded. “They got our honey and a handful of tvilling Fern had in a jar under her bed. Broke a few dishes and ransacked the pantry, but we’d managed to hide most of what the girls brought back. They’ve got plainclothes watching at both ends of the street and in the alley, but they likely won’t come back into the house unless they’ve good reason for it.”
Swinton pulled himself to his feet, groaning, and offered me a hand up. “I should go to the palace and see if I can’t call in a few favors. We can’t hide out here forever.”
“Do you really think it would be so unwise for me to go, too?”
Brenna furrowed her brows. “Based on what those guards were saying, I doubt you’d make it past the front gate alive. Best lie low for now.”
I wondered, for a moment, what they’d said, but my thoughts were rolling through my brain as slowly as cold honey, and Swinton was already speaking before I could ask.
“Think I can borrow some clothes? It’ll look more than a little suspicious if I turn up in a bloodstained guard’s uniform.”
Eyeing him appraisingly, Brenna nodded. “The others should be able to find something for you—I’ll have to leave for work here in a minute. Just because one of my siblings is apparently royalty doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t have to work for a living.”
I blushed, horrified by my self-absorption. “Brenna, I promise I’ll see you taken care of. If I’d known—”
“Please. I’m not asking for a handout from you just because we’re blood.”
“We’ll talk about it,” I said, but forced myself to stop when I recognized how condescending I must sound. “What I mean is, I’d like to help. If you’ll let me. We’re family, aren’t we?”
I looked from Brenna to Swinton and back, seeking some kind—any kind—of affirmation. They held each other’s gaze, exchanging a steady, knowing look until Brenna snorted and reached out to knock me in the shoulder.
“Don’t know why you’d want to claim bilge water scum like the lot of us, but you keep at it, and you’ll have a right hard time getting yourself rid of us. Come on downstairs.”
Swinton cobbled together a getup borrowed from my brothers while Brenna flew through the house, readying herself for work and peppering the younger siblings with instructions. I lingered in the front hall, unsure of where I belonged, where I ought to position myself in the unfamiliar, ramshackle house full of closed doors and flickering lamplight. The furniture was well-worn and patched in places, but the house was kept tidy, everything in its place.
Except, of course, me. There was no place for me in this house.
Brenna, Lair and Swinton tripped merrily down the stairs, laughing and wrapping themselves in layers of scarves and sweaters against the biting cold of the early morning wind.
“I’m off to the docks, brother mine,” Brenna said. “I’ll be home around suppertime. The brats should be able to keep you occupied and fed in the meantime. Just ask if there’s anything you need.”
“Do you think I might have a bit of paper?” I asked tentatively. “I should let Gerlene, my solicitor, know where I am, and I’d like to write to Vi, if I can.”
Brenna looked at Fern and jerked her chin. “Get the writing supplies from my trunk, yeah?” Fern darted up the stairs, the rest of the little ones following her like ducklings. Brenna squeezed my hand. “What’s mine is yours. I mean it.”
I squeezed back, smiling. “The same goes for you, Brenna. Thank you for opening your home to me. I know the danger it puts you in.”
Her twin, Lair, clapped me on the back. “I’ll go as far as the square with your man here,” he said. “See him safe out of the neighborhood, like. I plan to see what gossip I can dig up as they announce the new regent. Tie and Chase can run your letter anywhere in the city. Just tell them the way.”
With a pair of identical tight smiles, Brenna and Lair slipped out onto the porch, leaving Swinton and me alone in the hallway.
“Promise me you’ll stay hidden until I get back?” Swinton asked, lacing his fingers through mine. “Keep away from the windows, borrow some plain clothes, stay out of sight. Yeah?”
“I don’t like sending you off alone like this.”
Swinton cupped my cheek with his elegant, calloused hand and kissed me gently. “You aren’t sending me anywhere, little lord, and it’s not as though you could sashay into the palace yourself right now. Not after your own guards did their best to assassinate you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. My world had completely shattered in the space of a day, and I couldn’t stand to lose Swinton, too. “Please be careful.”
Wrapping his arms around me, Swinton took a deep breath and whispered in my ear, “I’ll always come back to you, Bo. Always. I love you.”
With that, the tears that had been building for the last day spilled down my cheeks. Swinton held me as I wept. I cried for my grandmother, for my father, for the mother who had raised me and the one who’d given me away. I cried for Vi and for the half siblings who’d had to raise themselves. I cried for Claes and Penelope. But mostly, I wept for myself, for the softhearted boy I would have to leave behind in order to become the king that Alskad deserved.
* * *
When I’d finally cried myself out, Swinton handed me his handkerchief and slipped away, promising to return as soon as he could. As the door closed behind him, I turned to find a cluster of my siblings staring down at me from the landing. Fern clutched a sheaf of paper in one hand and a pen in the other. Chase and Tie exchanged a knowing look and dashed down the stairs to my side.
“I know what you need,” Chase said.
“Tea,” Tie finished. “The answer is always tea.”
“And a place to write?” I asked. “Brenna said you could take a note to Gerlene for me. Do you mind terribly?”
“Of course they’ll take it,” Fern said. “You can write in the parlor. There’s no desk, but it’s quiet, and there’s a low table fine for writing. I’ll show you.”
I followed Fern into the parlor and settled myself on the floor next to an elegantly carved, but now chipped, table. Fern curled up in a corner of the sofa and watched me as I dashed off a note to Gerlene.
“How long have you known about Vi?” she asked.
I looked up, startled. “Not long. A few months? I went to find her as soon as I found out.”
“It makes me sad.”
“What does?”
Fern gave me a stern look, her hazel eyes sparking with the same intensity Vi showed when she was frustrated. “I feel a little sad for you
, that you’ve been alone for so long, but you’ve had people who loved you and enough to eat and an education and just so, so much privilege. But Vi. Dzallie’s spite, Vi. She grew up hated, cast out. Vi grew up with nothing, no one, no love. She didn’t even really have us, her family. I could just kick myself.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “It makes me sick. But you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t know. And I promise you, I am going to use every bit of privilege and power I have to make sure that no one ever has to grow up like that again.”
“Good.” Fern nodded. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
Tie and Chase came into the parlor and set an overfull tea tray on the table.
“You have that note ready?” Tie asked.
I nodded and handed him the folded slip of paper. My words weren’t—couldn’t possibly be—enough, but they’d have to do for now. “Thank you again for taking this. Gerlene and the queen were...close. I’m sure she’s devastated, but if she could come here to talk to me, that would make things so much easier. Her house is—”
Chase cut me off. “We know where to find her. Gerlene’s lent a hand to some folks in the End from time to time. We’ll give her your message.”
Tie nodded his agreement. “Fern, can you run out and see if you can find Ma? We don’t want her surprising us here, and if you slip her some money, she’ll disappear for a few days.”
Fern made a face. “Can’t you make Trix do it? I’m not exactly itching to cross paths with our ma.”
“Both of you go. Let’s give Bo some space. I imagine after the night he’s had, he could use a few hours of peace and quiet.”
“I’ll still be here when you get back,” I said. “Promise.”
Rolling her eyes, Fern heaved herself off the sofa. “Fine. But all three of you owe me.”
I mouthed, “Thank you,” to Chase and Tie as they followed Fern out of the parlor.
I’d just started a letter to Vi when two little girls—my sisters, I reminded myself—came crashing into the room.
Their faces and hands were smeared with grease and spices. One of them gnawed on a pigeon leg, while the other carried a plate piled high with flatbread, some sort of green vegetable and what I assumed was more pigeon meat. The girls were identical, from their tangles of tawny hair down to the constellations of freckles that spread across the sharp hooks of their noses and the planes of their cheeks.
“We thought you might be hungry,” one of the girls said.
“We had to hide it from the soldiers, so it’s gone cold, but it’s still good,” the other added.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the plate and pushing my letter to Vi aside. “Which of you is Pem and which is Still?”
The girl who’d handed me the plate said, “She’s Still. I’m Pem.”
Through a mouthful of pigeon, Still said, “Pleasure.”
“The pleasure’s mine. I’m sorry we’ve not met before now.” I tore off a corner of the flatbread and used it to pinch up a little of the greens. Cautiously, I took a bite. Vinegar and peppers and garlic exploded across my tongue. The greens were startlingly spicy, and the buttery bread only barely served to tame their flavor.
Pem shrugged. “We’ve seen you a few times since you got back from Ilor.”
Still whacked her sister with the pigeon leg. “Weren’t supposed to tell him that, goon! What’s he going to think of us?”
“You’ve seen me?” I asked curiously.
“Yeah. Few months back, Ma got pie-eyed drunk and told us ’bout you and Vi and everything.”
Still glared at her sister, but Pem kept talking.
“Vi’s always been our favorite. We used to go down to the docks of a morning and watch her dive. We weren’t a bit surprised that she weren’t really a dimmy. After all, she ain’t half-frightening unless she’s angry.”
I laughed. “You’re right about that.”
“Anyway. Ma told us who you were, and we was curious. But we’ve not told anyone else. Not even Brenna. We knew it were important that no one found out about you and Vi.”
“I’m lucky to have such excellent sisters.”
Pem beamed, but Still’s look was all cold calculation.
“What’d you figure on giving us for keeping our traps shut?” she demanded.
Pem glared at her, but, hoping to quell the tension, I asked, “What would you like?”
“Jobs. Good ones. In the palace. We need to start pulling our weight, and we ain’t aiming to be petty thieves like Lair and Chase. We’re hard workers, and we ain’t afraid of doing the dirty work. We just need a chance.”
I did my best to hide my smile. “I’ll see what I can find for you. Do you know how to read and write?”
Still bit her lip. “Enough. We ain’t fixing to be schoolteachers or nothing, but we can get by.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I said, running a hand through my tangled curls. I couldn’t imagine a time when I might be able to offer these girls some stability when I had none of my own. The future seemed so incredibly uncertain, so unstable, that I was exhausted even considering it. The idea of sleep called to me. I wanted to disappear, embrace nothingness, just for a little while. “Just as soon as I’m in a position to hire someone, you two will be at the top of my list. But right now, do you think there might be somewhere I could take a nap?”
Pem’s and Still’s faces lit up with identical grins. They each took one of my hands, pulled me off the floor and led me upstairs to a dim bedroom. I took off my boots, shrugged off my jacket and crawled into the unfamiliar bed. But before I let myself sleep, I closed my eyes and prayed. I didn’t know if I believed in the gods or in anything anymore, but I felt compelled to ask whatever was out there—if anything was—to watch over the people I loved. I prayed for my grandmother’s easy crossing and for all the people I’d lost. I prayed for Swinton’s safety and for Vi’s. I prayed for my half siblings. And finally, I prayed for Alskad. For the empire I’d sworn to protect, and for the strength to uphold my promises.
And then, finally, I slept.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Vi
“However this ends, know that I love you, and know that our cause was worthy.”
—from Vi to Bo
The dreary, gray sky was barely visible through the massive canopy of trees, and we had to fight for each breath in the damp, oppressive heat that hung over the mountain like a curse. I swung a leg over Beetle’s back and hopped down, landing with a disconcerting squish in the leaves and mud. I handed Beetle’s reins to one of the younglings who’d come to look after the horses when they’d take us no farther and strapped my long, curved kaffe knife into place.
The terror that laced its way through the quiet, shuffling crowd was palpable. These people were like me—desperate folks from poor, awful places like the End, who’d come to Ilor looking for a chance at something better. The fact that we were here now, posturing as warriors, armed with kaffe blades and the few odd pistols, was absurd. We’d found ourselves backed into a corner with nowhere to go and nothing to hope for but change.
Panic rose in my chest as I watched the others ready themselves for the final half mile of the hike that would take us to our positions. With pastes made of ink and soot, they drew lines on one another’s faces that reflected Curlin’s tattoos. Aphra had insisted that the more we looked like the Shriven, the greater our element of surprise would be, and Curlin had agreed with her. I leaned against the gnarled trunk of a tree, trying to calm my racing heart, and watched as Aphra wound a black scarf tight around her bright hair, just as I had done earlier.
Securing the last knot, she stepped up onto a rock and raised her hands as though to quiet the already silent group.
“Listen to me,” she called. Her spine was straight and every line of muscle on her body stood tense and electric. She seemed to glow in the light of the sun
coming up behind her. “Hear me. We are strong, but we do not fight because we are strong. We fight for those who cannot. We fight because at some point in our lives, another person looked at us or someone we loved and called us unworthy. We are well armed, well rested and fairly well-fed. But those are not the things that will win us this battle. We will win today because we are right.”
Anticipation ran through each of us. I could see it in the fists knotted against thighs, in the anxious checking and rechecking of weapons, in the gnawed cuticles of nearly every one of us.
“Our fight is not with the gods and goddesses, for they stand with the righteous. Our fight is with the Suzerain and their temple, whose emissaries sully the good names of our gods and goddesses with their deceitful power grabs and relentless persecution of the innocent. We will win today because we fight for the innocent, for the downtrodden, for the tyrannized and silenced. You know your roles, your places, and you have no reason to be afraid. We will find victory at the end of this day!”
A ripple went through the crowd, and the nervous energy suddenly evaporated. It was as though Aphra’s words had washed the fear and anticipation away and left only focused determination in its place. I’d never seen anything like it. My own anxiety was smoothed over like a stone polished by endless waves, and I saw for the first time Aphra’s true power. Her words, and nothing more, had changed the very fabric of the group’s energy, pushing us from the edge of terror to a brilliantly honed anticipation.
I caught Curlin’s eye, and we hung back as Aphra led the group into the trees.
“Have you ever seen anything like that?” I asked.
Curlin shook her head. “Never. It was like her voice sucked all the panic, all the fear, out of us. Even me. My doubts about this nonsense were just...wiped away.”
“Am I right in thinking that’s a bit terrifying?”
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