by Sharon Shinn
“What question?”
“Did I tell Malachi about Marguerite? You didn’t betray her, but did I betray you? That’s what you’re thinking—or you will be, when you can think about anything but her.”
I gave a short, sharp nod and resumed my aimless blundering around the perimeter. “You could have, I suppose,” I said. “Though I don’t know why you would have waited until today.”
“Because I knew you’d be gone from the palace?” he suggested. “Because you were out with Chessie?”
“Oh, right. That makes sense.”
“Or because I was still trying to decide whether or not I was going with you.”
I shook my head. “You were never coming with us. That was just a dream.” I glanced at him, but kept walking. “A good dream, though. I liked it.”
“I didn’t tell him, though.”
“I know,” I said.
“How do you know?”
I shook my head again. “Because I know you. Because I love you. Because I know that—”
“Wait a minute,” he said.
I stopped and gave him an inquiring look.
“You haven’t said that before. I’ve said it, but you haven’t.”
I actually had to think about it a moment. “What? That I love you?”
“Yes. That.”
“Well, what did you think?”
He spread his hands as if to say, How can you ask me that? “It’s one of those things that a person can’t just presume.”
I crossed the floor, went straight up to him, and put my arms around his neck. “I love you,” I said seriously. “But I don’t know that it will do either of us any good.”
He kissed me. “Speak for yourself. I think it will do me unutterable good.”
I leaned my head against his chest. “But I can’t think of anything else. Not right now. Not while Marguerite—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“There’s something else you should know,” he said.
I lifted my head with a new sense of apprehension. “What?”
“I’m sure Malachi’s going to want to question you.”
I felt a surge of panic. “What should I tell him?”
Before he could answer, there was a firm knock and a man called, “Nico? Are you in there?” As if Nico’s words had summoned him, the inquisitor had appeared at the door. I had had only one brief conversation with the man, but I would never forget his voice.
“Stick to the truth as much as you can—but lie about yourself,” Nico breathed. Then he released me and called back, “Yes, we both are! Hang on. The door’s locked.”
In a moment he had ushered Malachi inside and the three of us had seated ourselves on a set of straight, uncomfortable chairs. “Do you always keep it so dark in here, Nico?” Malachi asked, letting his eyes roam around the room.
Nico pushed himself to his feet to fetch lamps and matches. “Brianna had much the same reaction,” he said. “I suppose I’m here so rarely I don’t mind its gloom.”
I was sure it wasn’t the gloom Malachi wanted to chase away; he wanted to banish all the shadows so he had a better chance of interpreting the expressions on my face. I folded my hands in my lap and tried not to be nervous. I reminded myself that I had perfected the art of lying during the past two weeks. Now I would see if I had gotten good enough to deceive the inquisitor.
“So, Brianna. I need to ask you some questions,” Malachi said, his rich deep voice sounding almost avuncular. He wants me to trust him, I thought. I doubted that he took this tone with most of the people he interrogated.
“Go ahead.”
“From what I understand, you were present on the afternoon that Lord Jamison met his death at your mistress’s hands,” he said. “I’ve heard Lady Marguerite’s accounting of that day. Now I’d like to hear yours.”
I hesitated a moment, trying to think how Marguerite would have told this story. Our versions had better match in most details or he would be more suspicious than no doubt he already was. Marguerite would have had no reason not to tell the truth—except as it related to me. That tallied with Nico’s advice. I took a deep breath.
“Our horse had thrown a shoe and we stopped at a posting house. The proprietor told us there was a lake nearby if we wanted to take a stroll. Lord Jamison came upon us as we were walking and said he had something he wanted to discuss with Marguerite. In private.”
I paused, and Malachi waited without comment. His bald scalp and beardless face were smooth and pale, but his eyes were layered and dark. He seemed to have limitless patience. I took another breath.
“Marguerite told me to wait on a bench overlooking the lake, so I sat down. She told the echoes to wait, too, but they followed her when she walked off with Jamison. I watched them until they all disappeared into a patch of trees. It wasn’t too long after that when I heard yelling and screaming coming from that direction. I jumped up, but I didn’t know what to do. Marguerite had told me to stay behind.” I let a little agitation creep into my voice, and then took a moment to visibly calm myself. “So I just stood there another minute or two. The yelling got louder—until all of a sudden it stopped. Then Marguerite called my name. So I ran toward the trees, and that’s when I saw the bodies.”
“Bodies?” he said, seeming surprised by the plural.
I nodded. “Lord Jamison and Prudence.”
“Ah. The echo.”
“They were both dead. Marguerite was crying. It was horrible.”
“What did you do?”
“I started crying, too.”
He maintained his calm. “After you and the lady and the echoes all pulled yourselves together. What did you do?”
I whispered, “We threw the bodies in the lake so no one would ever find them.”
“Whose idea was that?”
Mine. “Marguerite’s.”
“Who came up with the plan that you should masquerade as her dead echo?”
I did. “Marguerite.”
“What did you think of that idea?”
“I thought it was terrible!” I burst out. “I thought there was no way I could do it! How could I possibly copy every move she made? But she told me no one would notice. She told me that no one ever looks at echoes—that they’re practically invisible.”
“Did you find that to be true?” “Mostly,” I said. “But it was still really hard.”
“I imagine it was,” Malachi said in his smooth voice. “I imagine there were days you wished you’d never agreed to do it. Days you wondered when you’d ever have a chance to be yourself again.”
“Plenty of those,” I said, but I eyed him warily. I sensed another bad question coming.
He hitched himself closer, fixing those bottomless eyes on my face. I wanted to glance over at Nico, who had been utterly silent and utterly motionless during this whole interview, but I couldn’t look away from the inquisitor.
“So tell me this,” Malachi said. “You knew we had discovered Jamison’s body, did you not? That news surely must have filtered down to the servants’ hall.”
I nodded.
“And you were aware that my nephew was helping me investigate the death, were you not?”
I nodded again.
“Yet you didn’t come forward with any information.” I shook my head. “Why is that?”
I bit my lip, glanced at Nico, and clasped my hands even more tightly. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of Nico? I have formed the impression he would have been most sympathetic to your plight. Why didn’t you tell him anything?”
I felt a blush color my cheeks, and I couldn’t help indulging one brief, happy realization: So Nico really didn’t tell Malachi what he knew. I brushed the thought aside. I didn’t have time for it. I was trying to guess what answer Marguerite would have given when the inquisitor asked her why I hadn’t betrayed her to the king. “I was afraid of Marguerite.”
“I understand that she is a rich woman with a powerful father, and you would not want to cross
her,” Malachi said. “But surely you realized that once she was arrested, she would have no more power over you. So why were you afraid?”
I remembered the first day of our journey, when we had gotten no farther than the Barking Dog. I remembered how my brothers and sisters had lined up to stare at the governor’s daughter and her echoes, how Marguerite had charmed them all with her warmth and liveliness. I remembered the weight of the baby sleeping in my arms. “My family,” I whispered. “We spent the night at my mother’s posting house, and Marguerite saw how much I loved them all. She told me if I didn’t do exactly what she said, she would have them all arrested. She said they would survive only as long as she did.” I twisted my triskele ring on my finger and looked up at the inquisitor as tears spilled out of my eyes. “Did she have time to send a letter?” I choked out. “Please tell me they’re safe.”
I thought I saw a hint of compassion come to the inquisitor’s face. “She has sent no messages today, at least,” he said. “I could send a courier to make certain they have not been harmed.”
“Don’t alarm them,” I begged. “Don’t tell them I’m in danger.”
“You’re not in danger,” Malachi said. “And my messengers are most discreet.”
I dropped my head and stared at my folded hands. “Thank you.”
Malachi put his hands on his knees. “Thank you for finally telling me the truth,” he said. “I wish you had spoken up sooner, but I understand why you did not. I am sorry that you have had to go through such an ordeal—witnessing a murder, and then being forced to protect the murderer. But things will be easier now.”
I squeezed my hands together more tightly and nodded, but I could not bring myself to look at him. Easier? Easier? I could not imagine how they could get any harder. “What will happen next?” I asked.
Malachi pushed himself to his feet. “A swift trial and swift justice,” he said. “This is almost over.”
Nico rose and walked his uncle to the door. “Let me know what you need me to do next.”
“I will,” Malachi said, “But for now all you need to do is watch over this one. Not a particularly onerous task for you, I would imagine.” He laughed and disappeared into the hallway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Nico and I slept in the same bed that night, curled up together like exhausted lovers, but we shared nothing more intimate than a few kisses and a chaste embrace. I was too sad and weary to summon passion. But I was unutterably grateful for the comfort of his arms.
I slept badly, woke early, then lay there for more than an hour while Nico slumbered beside me. The room appeared even more stark and impersonal by the faint morning light that managed to sneak past the heavy curtains. This might as well be a chamber in some roadside inn, blandly waiting for the next indifferent occupant to arrive. If I were going to spend more than a day or two in this suite, I would want to do some extensive redecorating.
Would I stay here? What did my life hold if Marguerite died?
She can’t die, I thought. There must be something we can do.
My brain darted here and there, trying to come up with ideas that qualified as “something.” Could we smuggle her from the room disguised as a servant? Bribe the guards who watched the door? Provide a rope that she could use to climb from the window? Each possibility seemed less likely than the last.
Nico snorted, started, and opened his eyes. I lay on my left side, facing him, watching him shake himself to full wakefulness. I saw the moment he remembered that I was in the bed with him; he quickly turned onto his right side and smiled at me across the pillows.
“Hello, love,” he said, taking my hand.
“We have to do something to save Marguerite,” I said.
His smiled faded and he just looked tired. “I wish we could,” he said. “But we can’t.”
“We can. We have to,” I insisted.
“Brianna. She is guarded by the inquisitor’s men and will be scheduled to die within a few days. I am so sorry. I know how terrible it is. But I cannot change what is.”
I stared at him. “If it was me. If I was the one locked in that room. Would you just sit back and say, ‘It’s terrible but there’s nothing I can do’?”
His expression intensified and he reached over to take my face between his hands, bringing his head so close to mine our noses almost touched. “If it were you in that room? I’d plot a daring escape. I’d murder the guards in the middle of the night and spirit you down the stairs. I’d have a coach and six horses waiting in the courtyard, and we’d ride out so fast we’d be halfway through the city before Lourdes even had time to raise the alarm.”
“Then—”
“But we probably wouldn’t make it to safety,” he said, raising his voice to drown me out. “Malachi would expect me to behave so rashly, and he’d have soldiers stationed just outside the palace, and more soldiers stationed on every road we might take to freedom. I’d fight them all, you understand, anyone who tried to stop us—I’d leave a trail of blood and bodies behind—but eventually I’d be overcome. And you’d be caught and returned to your little room and you’d die anyway, just as you were scheduled to.”
“But—”
Now he rested his forehead against mine. “I’ll die for you, Brianna, but not for anyone else. I want to live for you. You’re the one I want to keep safe. And that means I can’t risk myself for anyone but you.”
I stared into his eyes, just inches from mine, and could feel my own fill with tears. “But they’re going to execute her,” I whispered.
He lifted his hands from my face just so he could gather me close, squeezing me even tighter when I shivered under the covers. “I know,” he said. “It’s terrible. I know.”
We lay that way for a few moments, until I could force myself to stop crying. Maybe there’s someone else who can rescue her, I thought. I lifted my head.
“Can Taeline see her?”
“The priestess?” Nico rested his chin on the top of my head and thought about it. “Normally prisoners aren’t allowed any visitors,” he said. “But that much I can do for her. I can get dispensation for the priestess, and make sure all the guards know that they must let her in.”
I sat up, pulling myself free of his arms, though he protested. “Then I’m going to talk to her.” I glanced down at Nico, who looked like he never wanted to get out of bed. “At least—am I free to leave the palace? Or am I still under suspicion?”
“I think Malachi believed your story. Well, I’m sure he did, or you’d already be locked up beside Marguerite. But I wouldn’t be surprised if, perhaps, you found yourself trailed by a guard or two.”
I jumped out of bed, already unlacing my nightgown. “I don’t care. They can follow me across the whole city of Camarria. All I’m doing is going to the temple.”
He just lay there watching me, though his expression grew appreciative as I pulled the nightgown over my head. “I would accompany you, but I’m sure Malachi wants me to attend him this morning.”
I paused to kiss him before I headed to the other room, where we had left my trunk. “That’s all right,” I said. “I know the way.”
I entered the temple through the door for justice and walked up to the first priestess I saw. “I need to talk to Taeline,” I said baldly.
But Taeline had already spotted me because I saw her thin, graceful shape hurrying my way. She was wearing red for celebration and I tried to see that as a hopeful sign. But in reality, she probably had been assigned to meet with a bridal couple later in the day.
“Brianna,” she exclaimed in a low voice. She sounded even more distressed than I was, impossible though that seemed. “We have heard some news—is it true?”
I glanced around. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
A few minutes later we were seated in one of the small underground rooms, huddled around a scarred wooden table and trying to come up with a plan. Our best idea seemed unlikely to work, but so far we hadn’t devised better alternative
s. When Taeline went to visit Marguerite, she would wear a second robe under her outer one, and this she would leave behind. Marguerite would position herself at the door, listening closely, and when there was a change of guards, she would don the priestess’s clothing. Then she would knock on the door from the inside and demand to be released. We were going on the hope that the fresh guards wouldn’t realize that the priestess had already left.
“But her face,” Taeline said.
“The guards don’t know what Marguerite looks like,” I said. “There are so many visiting lords and ladies, I’m sure the guards can’t keep them all straight.”
“Well, she looks just like her echoes!” Taeline exclaimed. “So all the guards have to do is glance at them!”
“The echoes can pretend to be sleeping. She can even shove some pillows under her covers so it looks like her body is in her bed.”
“Maybe,” Taeline said in a doubtful voice.
“We have to try,” I said fiercely.
“Oh, yes. We have to try.”
“One thing,” I said. “They won’t let me see her. So I can’t tell her—I can’t let her know—I can’t find out for sure that she knows I didn’t betray her.”
Taeline laid a comforting hand on my wrist. “She never doubted you.”
“Yes, but I want her to know,” I said. I pulled my triskele off my finger and dropped it in Taeline’s hand. “She’ll recognize this ring. She knows what it means. I want you to give it to her.”
“But, Brianna,” Taeline said in a very quiet voice, “you realize you’ll never get it back.”
“I will,” I said. “Marguerite will give it to me when she escapes.”
Taeline hesitated, then nodded and pocketed the ring. “Yes. When she escapes. Where shall we have her go?” She glanced around the room. “I don’t think she can come here, since Malachi Burken is very well aware of the existence of these hidden chambers.”
“The empty building by Amanda Plaza?” I suggested. “I could bring you the key and you could make sure the door is unlocked. I would unlock it myself,” I added, “but I think the inquisitor is having me followed.”
