We exited to the street, where a double-long carriage with a single team of horses waited at the ready. Unmarked, the carriage bore nothing to reveal who it carried. The six of us piled in, and the driver set off at a brisk clip. The jarring motion of the vehicle did little to calm the raging storm in my stomach. There were so many details to sort through, and not enough time to give them the proper attention.
“Echo,” the Prince said after a few minutes. “I need you to be the diplomat.”
#
I’d attended school at the foot of Grandmother’s rocking chair. She’d taught me to sew, to cook, to clean, to take time to run freely through the fields. She’d instructed me in reading and math, in life, in love.
“Look for opportunities to love,” she had said. “You will be happy if you do. You will one day love someone so deeply, you will wonder how you functioned without them.”
I’d wanted to ask her about Grandfather, and if she missed him. But I didn’t need to. She wore the missing in the lines along her eyes, in the way she sighed before bed without him to kiss goodnight.
She certainly hadn’t taught me the ways of diplomacy. I hadn’t even mastered the art of censoring my thoughts before they burst from my mouth. Or the laughter that sprang from my throat now.
I didn’t mind that villager uprising bounced in the empty spaces of my laughter. Or that I was the only one making any noise. Until Castillo coughed. The sound ricocheted inside my head, somewhat like the gunshots I’d heard only hours earlier.
I cut off the laughter and cradled my face in my hands. I suddenly felt ill from the jerking motion of the carriage, and the meals I’d been forced to skip, and the thought of acting as the Prince’s diplomat before his bride.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to erase the horrific images from the courtyard and quiet my increasing fears about what I might find waiting at the city wall. Greta would be so disappointed I’d ruined her makeup.
A hand touched my back, light and hesitant. When I didn’t jerk away, it rested there. Feelings of peace flowed through me. The Prince’s magic could apparently be used for more than lust.
I straightened, and his hand dropped into his lap. I appreciated the gesture and told him so. He flashed a tight smile before pulling back the curtain and peering through the dirty window.
“Cris,” Gibson snapped, and the Prince dropped the curtain with a glare in his guard’s direction, but the fight in his expression sank into my mind. If he knew everything Bo and Gibson did, I was sure he’d stop them.
When the carriage came to rest, the Prince remained seated while the others climbed out. I stayed with him, seized with the sudden thought that I shouldn’t exit the carriage as the guards did, that I was more than a servant girl now.
I was the Prince’s . . . sweetheart did not seem like the right word. He had twelve girls to choose from. I hadn’t been chosen yet, so fiancée or queen didn’t fit.
“Princess.” Castillo’s voice carried through the partially open carriage door.
I exhaled. That’s what I was. A princess. Castillo’s princess? I glanced at Cris, wondering if he could hear the vein of emotion under Castillo’s words, wondering if Bo or Gibson had noticed that Castillo and I had bonded. The Prince caught my eye, and the musings morphed into worry for the situation at hand.
“Don’t think,” the Prince counseled. “Just speak. You’re one of them. Tell them what they want to hear.”
“I’m not a liar.” I gripped the fabric of my dress in too-tight fists.
“I didn’t say to lie.”
“You also didn’t say not to.” I climbed out of the carriage. The sun hovered on the edge of the horizon, flirting with the approaching darkness. People clogged the road before me. Castillo, Matu, Bo, Gibson and an additional dozen armed guards created a bubble that extended fifteen feet around the carriage in every direction.
Fire flickered in front of me, illuminating the faces of angry men. Their clothes seemed ill-fitted and worn, definitely homespun from thick fibers. Dirt marred their hands and boots and everything in between. These were working men, here to defend their families from an unknown—and unwanted—ruler.
I scanned the group as if I’d see a familiar face from Iskadar. Perhaps I’d see the butcher or the stable master. Perhaps Oake. Hope flared at the thought of him.
“My people,” I began, and immediately knew it was the wrong way to start. Teeth clenched, and the crowd closest to the carriage shifted uneasily.
I cleared my throat and began again. “My name is Echo del Toro, and I hail from Iskadar.” My voice rose into the air, confident and authoritative, but nowhere near loud enough.
Whispers raced through the crowd. Men strained to see me. Torches lifted higher.
Castillo, who stood closest to me, half turned at my touch. “I need to climb on top of the carriage,” I whispered. “Can you help me, please?”
“Of course.” He offered me his hand. My fingers in his shook like the magicians had cursed them with ancient melodies. At least climbing up the wheel to the seat and then to the roof of the carriage was easy in my comfortable traveling boots.
My cloak rippled in the breeze as I surveyed the crowd. They seemed to stretch from here to the mountains, though surely they couldn’t fill so great a space. Still, their faces created a sea I’d rather not view.
“My name is Echo del Toro, and I hail from Iskadar,” I repeated, this time in a voice that would carry across the expanse. “His Majesty has appointed me the diplomat between he and thee. Who speaks for this group?”
Waves of conversation swelled through the crowd. A disturbance broke the rows of men to my left. Someone strode forward. He wore a hat of curious workmanship, and I knew him before the crowd parted to let him through.
Oake also wore his magician colors and had pinned his wizardry flag to his left lapel. He stood gazing at me with more emotion in his eyes than I’d seen previously, even that last time when he’d urged me to leave Iskadar before the rumored hunting parties arrived, claimed my power, and left me disabled.
My breath stalled at the sight of him. He looked well, and I wondered if he’d held his ground in Iskadar, or if he’d been forced into the forests. I wondered if he was disappointed I hadn’t written. I’d meant to, but found that I couldn’t find happy words, and I wouldn’t burden him with my disappointments and discouraging news. He hadn’t sent any correspondence either, but perhaps he’d been too busy organizing uprisings.
I found my fingers clutching at the throat of my dress, and I forced my hand to my side, the emotion flowing thick between us. How I wished to speak with Oake alone!
“I speak for the group.” The sound of his voice reopened a crack inside that I’d previously sealed. The one that longed to let my caged voice fly, the way he’d so often encouraged. The one with Grandmother inside. The one that housed my past.
I wished I could send him a subliminal message. Please do not reveal my magic, please do not reveal my magic.
“What are your grievances?” My tone came out smooth, something for which I thanked the stars above.
“The Prince wishes to tax us. We will not pay tribute to someone we have never met nor have any interest in supporting.”
“What is the tax?”
“One half.”
Fury boiled in my stomach. What a classless oaf of a prince. How dare he think he can take half of what these people work day and night to earn? And for what? So he could wear purple silks sewn with silver threads to dine with a dozen girls?
The anger fueled my courage. “That’s clearly too much,” I called out loudly, to ensure Cris would hear me inside the carriage. “What do you think is fair?” I couldn’t tear my eyes from Oake’s.
“Zero,” he said.
“The outer villages in the eastern sector support themselves, do they not?”
“They do,” Oake answered. “We’ve always supported our own.”
I didn’t miss the way he enunciated “supported our own.” Did
I still belong in that group? How many more in the crowd recognized me? I wondered how different I looked in fancy dresses and makeup and with a solid year of hard living behind me.
I studied each face, each line of exhaustion carved around their eyes from hours of farming and sewing and blacksmithing. Each spark of devotion to their families. Each squared shoulder determined to stay and fight until this matter was resolved.
I longed to join them. To drop my royal silk dress and exchange it for the calico print I’d loved as a child. To feel the earth between my fingers, and the swell of the summer breeze as I ran through the emptiness of the sky.
A dangerous idea entered my mind. I wondered if it would push Cris to his breaking point, if Helena’s spell had foreseen my loose tongue. I clutched my hands tighter against each other for strength. No matter what the consequences, I couldn’t stomach the taxation of my people.
“You may go on your way,” I announced, just as the tension reached its breaking point. “You have no obligation to this prince. Support one another. Love one another. Go, and peace go with you.”
Cheers erupted from the men, and Oake became swallowed up by the sound before I could meet his eyes again. I had much to say to him, but before I took another breath, Castillo captured my hand in his. I was shoved into the carriage, and the jolting journey back to the compound began.
Silence reigned for a moment before I sternly said, “And I hope all village prisoners will be released.”
Thirteen
I allowed my ladies to gush over my diplomatic victory as they unpinned my hair and unbuttoned my clothes. My skin felt alight with fire, and I sat resolutely, determined to keep my emotions concealed behind a mask of stone. Inside, I couldn’t tell if I was angry, or frustrated, or elated. I felt only the turmoil of feeling so much at once.
Lucia tried to engage me in meaningless conversation, but I simply shook my head. I didn’t even know why I couldn’t speak. Was it because I had succeeded in calming the crowd? Because I’d seen and spoken with Oake for the first time in a year? Because the Prince had neglected to hold my hand the entire way back and now I craved the tranquility of his touch?
Whatever words he held inside, they would not be pleasant. I’d contradicted his tax policies for the outlying villages and presumed to tell him what to do with his prisoners. Neither would pass without consequence—either from him or his father—but I found a curious satisfaction among the emotions I felt. He’d seen what he would get from me if I became his queen. I could only hope I had appeared strong enough, for I needed to show him courage meant as much as magic.
When a single tear escaped, Helena sent Matu for a draught of tea and calming herbs. She supervised while I drank it, and I had no choice but to swallow the bitter liquid. I had much work to do, from discovering Castillo’s remaining secrets, to completing the protection spell on my door. Such spells could only be hummed under cover of darkness, for which there was plenty. But the draught forced the fight from my body, and I succumbed to the numbness, the beautiful emptiness, of sleep.
#
The following morning, my stomach woke me with loud protests of my negligence from the previous day. I found blueberry muffins and weak tea on the table in the courtyard and ate the first pastry in a matter of seconds. I licked my fingers clean while I paced from one end of the courtyard to the other.
The sun hinted at rising, but full light had not yet brightened the sky. I turned as the sliding door hissed open. Lucia emerged from the suite, a smile already in place on her face. “Echo, you rise so early.”
“Old habit,” I told her. “My grandmother said the best time for gardening came before the sun crested the mountains.” My smile wobbled on my face, but I kept it there, determined to relish the memory of Grandmother rather than push it away.
Lucia held her hand toward me, a gesture Olive used when she wanted to show me one of her bouquets. “Come with me,” she said, her tranquil voice almost calming the squeezing of my heart at the thought of Olive. What had become of her? “I will show you what we do before sunrise here.”
“Intriguing.” I placed my hand in hers and let her lead me through my rooms and into the hall. She took the first door on our left, talking about Helena and Greta as we went. I agreed with whatever she said, focusing instead on what spell-song I might be able to sing to discover Olive’s well being.
The hall opened up into an enormous sewing room, and my thoughts stalled. I stopped to take in the bolts of fabrics, silky and shiny, which encompassed the entire wall to my left. Four rows of sewing machines filled the space, and each had a woman working cloths and threads into stunning dresses.
“Oh.” I moved to the notions wall on my right. Tiny drawers held buttons, and ribbons, and petals.
“Since I’m your clothing matron,” Lucia said, closing the drawer of ebony beads I couldn’t tear my eyes from, “When I’m not attending to you, I spend most of my time here.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said. “I’ve never seen so much fabric.”
“You’re talented with a needle?” Lucia asked, though she wasn’t really asking. “Perhaps you’d like to spend your early morning hours here.”
I turned my attention back to her, a rush of gratitude filling me. “Could I?” I certainly needed an escape from my new worries inside this compound. “Thank you, Lucia.”
“Perhaps you would like to begin a dress today,” she said. “I saw this challis and thought of you.” She fingered a drape of black fabric adorned with flowing pink and mustard-colored flowers.
“Nothing like a ball gown, or something you would wear to dine with the Prince. But for lounging around in the suite.” Lucia handed me the cloth, that sisterly smile on her face.
I wanted to seize her in a hug, the same way I would Olive. “Thank you,” I managed, and followed her to an empty machine. While sewing, the nagging worries about becoming a queen and cleansing the magic faded.
#
Back in the courtyard, I nibbled on another muffin as I sorted through the returning unease inside. I felt much the same now as I had in those first hours after Grandmother had died.
Alone. Frightened. Too old for my years. I didn’t want for food then, as the neighbors had brought me loaves of bread and pots of stew before her death. Now, I didn’t even consider where my next meal would come from.
Then, I had been surrounded by those who cared about me. Now, here in the compound, I had the attention of three devoted assistants, as well as two guards who seemed to know everything about me. They possessed kindness and knew exactly how to give it.
I’d felt hollowed out at Grandmother’s burial service, despite the weight of Oake’s hand in mine. My life had been wrapped up in Grandmother’s. It had purpose with her. Without her, I’d wandered, lost in a land I didn’t understand and couldn’t navigate.
The glass door slid open, and Castillo appeared in the courtyard. He could possibly restore understanding to my life. “It is after midnight.” A playful smile curled his mouth.
“That it is.” I strode over to him and stopped inches from throwing myself into his arms, surprised by how much I wanted to.
He cleared his throat, moved to the table, and plucked a muffin from the basket.
“What of the prisoners?” I followed him to the table. “Did the Prince release them?”
He slid me a glance that I was learning to interpret meant you said too much. “He did. He’s quite anxious to please you.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Castillo pinched off a corner of his muffin and chewed it slowly. Finally, he said, “Sometimes kings must make unpopular choices.”
I frowned. “Killing innocent people is hardly a popular option. Especially when he doesn’t even know it’s being done.”
Castillo bowed his head. “True.”
“But?”
“But nothing.”
“Did he seem upset that I—?”
“I cannot speak for him.” Castillo
wiped his mouth. “I thought you performed brilliantly with the villagers, though your mention of prisoners caused quite a stir. Cris didn’t know of them.” He cleared his throat. “So, you said you wanted to investigate. What did you have in mind?”
I blinked at his rapid change of topics, and took a deep breath to center myself. “A detection spell. I need to know everyone who can do magic.”
Castillo took another bite of his muffin before nodding. “A detection spell it is.”
I’d sung with Oake countless times. Working song-magic with him had felt natural—even when I made mistakes I didn’t feel out of my league.
I felt none of that ease and naturalness now, with Castillo looking at me out of the corner of his eye and the first note of the song at the edge of my upper register.
“Will you start, or shall I?” he asked.
“I will.” I could control the rebound if I began. I cleared my throat before letting the first note fly free. Castillo didn’t have to be prompted to insert his voice into the melody, and suddenly the awkwardness of singing together evaporated.
I should’ve expected to be able to sing with my bond free from worry. I’d never troubled myself over what Grandmother thought of me, and she possessed decades of experience over me.
We sang the spell through once, entombing the power in the compound. I’d forgotten how exhilarating working magic was. I’d been doing it under a heavy umbrella of worry and extreme side effects for over a year. But now, bonded to Castillo, I felt only the magic, and it was light as a misty rain, and warm.
Halfway through the second cycle, the rebounded images began to appear. People I didn’t know, most of them looking worse for the wear. I realized I was seeing the High King’s caged magicians. They appeared as if they could all use a good bath and a hot meal. I paused on one, a girl with earth-colored hair like Olive’s. But her eyes were the wrong color, and her skin disfigured with small scars. Relief flowed through me, though I hadn’t realized how worried about Olive I was until that moment.