Nameless Queen

by Rebecca McLaughlin

  Maybe, with a name, I’ll finally learn how friendship works when it’s more than the alleys you share, the blood, the secrets, and the food. I’ll understand courtesy and common kindness, smiling on the streets instead of slipping through the shadows to avoid reproachful glares.

  Then there’s Hat, who stares at me with all the impossible optimism that I can never understand. When she looks at me, she sees everything she thinks I can change about Seriden. What’s stopping me from proving to the Legals and Royals that the Nameless have worth?

  What’s stopping me? Aside from this trembling ache inside my chest? Aside from fear?

  I stare up at the stars, trying desperately to feel their warmth, trying to understand how hope can fuel me instead of crush me.

  By morning, I’ve made up my mind.

  CHAPTER 12

  The shadows are soft against the ceiling when I wake. The curtains are closed again, so I’m not sure how late it is. There’s a quilt tucked around Hat and an afghan draped over my waist.

  Devil is sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, drinking something steamy from a teacup.

  I smile suspiciously and point at the blanket on me. “Did you?”

  “No,” she answers curtly, and I hardly believe her, but I let it rest.

  “Listen,” she says after a moment. “I’ve asked about the Nameless going missing, and so far no one knows anything. It’s like they vanish overnight. I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you.”

  I whisper over Hat’s sleeping form. “Hat said a boy disappeared from the prison in the middle of the night, that maybe it was a Royal guard who took him.”

  Devil considers this. “Could be. The lack of information is telling. If there’s no sign of what’s going on, either something very organized is happening, or nothing is happening and we’re just reading into it.”

  But we know that’s not true. They’re going missing, and we don’t know how or why.

  Hat yawns and stretches, and as she sits up, it’s clear that her hair has gone from a tangled mess to an unrivaled frizz ball. She fixes the problem by grabbing one of Glenquartz’s hats from his rack and pulling it down tightly over her head.

  She springs to her feet, full of sprightly energy. “I could have slept for days!” she says. After being in prison for that long, I’m surprised she didn’t.

  “We’re not staying here,” I say to Hat. “I need to get to the palace. I’ve been letting them dictate the terms of my reign until the festival. But they’re stuck with me. They don’t get to control how I act and what I do. Not anymore.”

  “If you want to keep her safe, the best way to do that is to keep her close by,” Devil says. “You should take her into the palace with you. It’s the last place they’d search for her, especially if you tell them she left the city. Tell them she left on…” Devil counts on her fingers. “It’s a Wednesday? Tell them she left last night on a ship called the Delicate Crest. It’s an old schooner headed around the south coast toward Olefar. That type of ship is fast enough that they wouldn’t even think about chasing it down. Not to mention that its captain occasionally dabbles in…untethered acquisitions and transport.”

  “You know a pirate?” I ask.

  “A part-time pirate,” Devil says. “But it works as a cover story. Just remember: southbound schooner, Delicate Crest. Then all you have to do is get Hat into the palace unnoticed.”

  I peek through the curtains. It’s early enough that the streets won’t be filled, but we will still be seen if we aim for a casual stroll through the Royal Court.

  “How do you suggest we do that with no one noticing?”

  Devil downs the rest of her tea in a single gulp. “You forget so soon. I’m a smuggler. It’s what I do.”

  * * *

  Devil’s plan involves two scaled walls, a padlock to pick, and the loading entrance near the kitchens for shipments from the South Farms. We make our way without incident, which in and of itself is a feat.

  I can’t take Hat to the guest quarters. That’s the first place they’d look. I know I can’t conceal her indefinitely, but I need to keep her safe until I can confront the Royal Council. I take her to Med Ward. It’s the best chance to keep her safe.

  As we enter, I spy the doctor on the far side of the room at a workbench. She’s mixing some chemicals in a flask, and there are four teenagers grouped around her.

  I nudge Hat to the nearest unoccupied cot. We’ve gone over the plan enough that it goes smoothly. Hat will feign illness if anyone gets suspicious. I promise her I’ll return as soon as I can. I can’t help feeling anxious; I’m leaving to protect her, but I can only hope she’ll be safe without me.

  After I leave Med Ward, I move along the outer corridors before heading inward toward the dining hall. Sharp turn left, a quick pace down a long corridor, and I’m there. It’s breakfast time, and the scent of greasy sausage and citrus dominates the air.

  I slip inside and steal the first thing I find: a stack of pancakes and a bowl of fruit. I toss the pancakes into the bowl and walk out with the whole thing.

  I eat as I make my way to the Royal Council’s meeting room, where all the Royals go to collectively panic when something goes wrong. Me disappearing with an almost-executed Nameless girl would certainly qualify as “something gone wrong.”

  I knock crisply on the door four times and open it.

  “Good morning,” I say in a cheery voice. I raise the bowl of fruit as if I’m giving a toast.

  “My lady!” Glenquartz says, shooting straight up, relief and excitement plastered on his tired face. “Where have you been?”

  “This is a delicacy, my friends,” I say, ignoring his question. “Fruit inside a pancake.”

  I count the faces in the room. A little under half of them smiled. Three of them scowled. It’s good to get an initial count of who will be on my side and who won’t. Belrosa herself is furious, but with an edge of triumph. She thinks that I’m making a fool of myself and that she’ll have the upper hand here.

  “Your Highness,” Belrosa says, reaching for the cuffs on her belt, “I’m afraid that—”

  “Are you going to try to arrest me?” I say, thoroughly amused. “That’d be a neat trick. What for?” I take another bite of the pancake.

  “You interrupted the due course of an execution and went on the run!” Belrosa says with an incredulous laugh.

  I tilt my head and look at her questioningly. “Do I look like I’m running? Now, I’ll remind you—and this is a fact I’m sure you haven’t forgotten in my absence—that I am Nameless. If you can cite for me which law I’ve broken, I will surrender myself to the chains.” I put my wrists together in front of me. “The Nameless have absolutely no rights within the city. My interference with the execution of another Nameless has absolutely no consequence as far as the law is concerned.” I pull my wrists apart as if breaking free of the imaginary chains.

  “She was the instigator of a riot,” Belrosa argues. “A riot that killed two people!”

  “No,” I say, “it killed at least three people. Two of them were Legals, who were torturing the third—a Nameless boy. And that young girl you wanted to hang? She was in prison the entire time. She’s little more than a child. Some of you may be so heartless that that doesn’t mean anything to you. You made a mistake when you tried to pin the riots on her, General.

  “The Nameless don’t need to be organized to be dangerous. They only need to be afraid and empowered. What empowers them? I do. The crown on my arm does. You can let the Nameless die on the streets, and you can try to execute a child to prove your strength, and you can lock me in chains for saving her, but that would give them the injustice they need to become brave. I don’t want to be the martyr they fight for or wage war over. But I will be if I have to.”

  The room is silent. I give it a beat for the weight of my words to si
nk in.

  “I need you to understand this.” I lean onto the table with both hands, recalling my threat to Glenquartz after my first council meeting. “If you kill that girl, I will no longer be your queen. I will be a soldier. An enemy. There will be no refuge in unfair laws or status. Now. Who has a problem with saving a little girl’s life?” I look around the room, at each of them in turn. None rise to challenge me.

  Belrosa is too furious to formulate an argument.

  “I’m not going to storm out this time,” I reassure them. “When we all leave this room, we may not agree, but we’ll understand each other better. You have me for another four weeks. At that time, I’ve already agreed to pass on the tattoo, but until then, I think we can all expend some effort to get along. Like it or not, the city out there doesn’t care if we hate each other or like each other. They only care if the city falls apart or comes together. Whoever gets this tattoo after me will have to bear the weight of whatever happens. As for me, there’s no way on the spetzing blue earth that I’m going to let this ship crash while I’m at the helm. That was a joke, because we’re a coastal city.”

  I check to see who is smiling. Five of them now.

  “Regardless,” I add, “you have questions. I will answer them, if I can.”

  We spend the next three hours in that room. I feed them the lie of Hat on the southbound vessel, and they swarm with questions. Of course Belrosa challenges my authority at every turn, but when all is said and done, we at least agree on this: The city needs to hear my voice as the heir, as Nameless.

  “They need to know my story about what happened at the execution,” I say. “I should give a speech out in the city. It will not call anyone out by name or address the fact that the Nameless helped me escape. My speech won’t challenge the Royals in any way, but it will explain that the wrong prisoner was brought out and an otherwise innocent girl was about to be executed. I get to be a hero, and no one on the council will have to be the villain.”

  The council is about to agree when Belrosa adds, “You must also renounce your loyalties to the Nameless entirely. You showed them too much sympathy when you saved that girl. The Nameless, as you said, are dangerous. They need to know that you’re not on their side. You’re on our side. You’re on the side of Seriden itself.”

  I pause. “You’re suggesting I denounce who I am. But then, in four weeks, I’ll be one of them again. You see how that’s a problem for me, don’t you?”

  Belrosa shrugs. “Surely you must understand,” she says, “that while you hold the position as the heir, your first and foremost obligation is to the city itself. It has to be. Otherwise we cannot support you as the heir a moment longer. Now, you’ve proven to us that rectifying the mistake with the Nameless girl is in the best interest of the city. That’s why we’ll allow this course of action. However, if your loyalty is clearly with the Nameless and against the proper, loyal citizens of Seriden, that poses an even greater danger to the city.”

  Six council members nod in agreement.

  “You must renounce your ties to the Nameless,” Belrosa insists. “You must do so with the speech. The people need to hear from you to know the city isn’t going to fall apart on your watch, that it isn’t going to crash like a sinking ship, as you said. I think you must go out as soon as possible to address them. Tomorrow. Today, even!”

  Esther frowns. “Come, now. When my father gave speeches, they were never less than three days after the announcement.”

  The woman bejeweled with amethysts—Ariel—weighs in with a kind voice. “I believe the matter is much more urgent than those of your father’s days.”

  “Then two days,” Esther says, speaking as though the decision is final. “That’s enough time to write a speech, I think, and get it approved by the council.”

  “With the city how it is,” Belrosa says, “the sooner the better.”

  As they talk about the speech, my chest is slowly tightening like a constrictor knot. Glenquartz watches me, knowing something is off. I feel my face heating up, and I rise to my feet.

  “Then it’s agreed,” I say. “I will see you at the speech.”

  A few of them murmur in assent, but most of their auras flicker with nerves and fear.

  “Now that we’ve resolved the course of action for the matter of the execution,” I say, “I have another issue to present to you. Nameless are disappearing off the streets. I need you to help me find out what’s happening and stop it.”

  Silence reigns through the room.

  “If these were Legals going missing, or Royals, you wouldn’t hesitate to start an inquiry,” I scoff. “You let something as silly as a name be enough to change your conscience. Seriden can have its treaty that protects magic and stops the cities from declaring war on one another, but that doesn’t mean anything if you won’t actually protect everyone who calls Seriden their home. As much as you don’t want to think about it or admit it, the Nameless are as much a part of Seriden as the Legals and Royals. Am I not proof of that?”

  What I sense from them is worse than fear and worse than anger: it’s discomfort. Fear and anger drive people to act. Discomfort drives people to nothing except avoidance. And all of them feel the same unease, except for one. Esther.

  From her I sense something like pride.

  “Now, I’m perfectly content,” I add, “to give this speech you want. I only ask that you listen to my request and give it due consideration.”

  “The Nameless go missing frequently,” says Belrosa. “It would be irresponsible of us to assign resources for this inquiry when there is such turmoil present in the city, when everything is so politically charged and fragile.”

  “Where is your evidence?” Esther asks.

  I’m startled to hear her speak with a harsh conviction and criticism in her voice that don’t match her aura at all.

  “Pardon?” I say, buying myself time.

  “You say the Nameless disappear at a frequency and quantity they haven’t before. I simply wonder how you know this and how you can confirm its accuracy before you ask us to act. As we know, actions without basis are directionless and, sadly, a waste. I have no doubt that people go missing occasionally. But offer us proof.”

  I twist my hands into angry knots beneath the table.

  “I’ve heard personal testimony from several Nameless,” I say.

  Esther listens with a serene expression that gives nothing away. Her aura is soothing.

  “Given that the city doesn’t track the Nameless the way it tracks Legals and Royals for taxes,” I say, “this is the only proof I can offer.”

  “Perhaps when you bring us evidence,” Esther says delicately, “of where these Nameless are going, then we would have a solid foundation for action.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re telling me that if I want the Royal Guard to assist in finding out what’s happening to the Nameless, I first have to find out what’s happening to the Nameless?” I do little to conceal my frustration, and Belrosa’s aura dances with amusement.

  Most of the remaining council members are firm in their refusal to help now that they’ve been given a voice of reason to hide behind. Their auras close in on me, closer than the tight walls of an alley, and they feed into me like water collecting in a drain. My frustration grows.

  Belrosa chimes in. “The Royal Guard is not a search party, unfortunately. They are here to protect and police Seriden under my command. Regrettably, Your Highness, I can offer no assistance.”

  I close my eyes for a moment, remembering my first encounter with this woman. I crave another confrontation, but every moment I’m here is a con. I have to play my part. I open my eyes and give a firm nod.

  “Understood,” I say. “Thank you for hearing me.”

  Belrosa’s smug aura is like a foul scent from a trash bin.

  I reach out to sense Esthe
r’s aura. While I expect to find a similar sense wafting outward, I find an insistent regret, as if she’s pushing an apology at me. I look at her, and there’s a brief flicker of a remorseful frown. I seethe silently, trying to stay calm. I don’t want an apology. I want an explanation.

  The rest of the Royal Council meeting goes by quickly. I’ve lost a lot of my fire. My energy wanes. They only barely mention the fact that Esther still hasn’t added her name to the list of challengers, but even if they unanimously voted that Belrosa should get the tattoo peacefully, it sounds like they want me to lose the duel in front of everyone. That way, the Nameless are reminded of their place and I am dethroned in defeat instead of peace. As the meeting wraps up, I tuck the empty fruit bowl under my arm like a stack of papers, and I push away from the table.

  Esther stares at me while I head for the door. She could only advertise her intent better if she shouted it. She wants to talk to me, and she’s trying to get my attention. Rookie.

  I hurry from the room, angry and disheartened as the Royals start to discuss dinner plans and tax collections and preparations for the Assassins’ Festival. Esther is five steps behind me as I walk the corridor, which gives her ample time to see me enter a room four doors down. She pokes her head in experimentally. I’m sitting on a desk across the room, my feet on the chair.

  “What was all that about?” I demand. “You’re the one who told me I had to care about the city. And when I try to put a foot forward to care for the Nameless, you shoot me down like that? Explain! I can sense your guilt all over you.”

  Esther gently closes the door behind her. We’re in some kind of postage room. I have to push aside three different-colored inkwells to sit on the desk, and I’m not anywhere near certain that I’m not actively getting ink stains on my clothes.