“The air glowed in some places,” Melanie said. “It was difficult to breathe. Every night we heard howling, and other noises. Trees had been turned upside down, and buildings were filled with something solid; everything inside was trapped, like insects in amber. People trapped inside—” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s too awful.”
“Father.” Tobiah’s hand rested on his father’s shoulder, and he spoke with a note of tenderness. “These ladies come to us in need of aid. We must provide.”
King Terrell reached around and patted Tobiah’s hand, and the difference between them was striking. One was strong and whole, while the other was only a wasted memory of a hand, with veins and tendons protruding. “You’re right, son. Lady Julianna, Lady Melanie, you’re both welcome in Skyvale Palace for as long as you’d like to stay. Our home is your home.”
I permitted myself the tiniest of smiles, disguised as relief and gratitude. This was it: the beginning of victory.
FIVE
WE WEREN’T TWO steps out the office door when a tall brunette and slim blonde stopped us, a duckling trail of maids at their heels.
The ladies were not much older than Melanie and me, but the brunette held herself as though she owned the palace. Her air of assurance faltered only a breath as she glanced from Melanie to me and back.
It was the blonde who spoke first, her voice warm and welcoming. “You must be the two Liadian ladies who just arrived.”
The servant escorting us stepped in to make introductions. “Lady Julianna Whitman, Lady Melanie Cole, this is Lady Meredith Corcoran, House of the Unicorn, Duchess of Lakeside, and Lady Chey Chuter, House of the Sea, Countess of Two Rivers City.”
“Pleased to meet you.” I performed a quick curtsy, and Melanie followed. “Thank you for your kind welcome.”
Lady Meredith, the blonde, stepped forward and took one of my hands in both of hers. “The pleasure is ours. We’re just so happy you were able to make it here.”
A cloyingly sweet scent, like honeysuckle, enveloped me as Lady Chey moved next to her friend and took in our dirty, weary appearances. “When we heard two Liadian ladies had arrived at the gates, I couldn’t believe it. Lady Julianna Whitman. Your presence is indeed welcome here.”
Lady Meredith cast a guileless smile. “You’ll have to attend tomorrow night’s ball, of course.”
Surprise flitted across Lady Chey’s face, but she concealed it quickly. “Of course, Your Grace. I will make arrangements. It will be good for you to meet new people, especially if you’re going to be staying in Skyvale Palace. Do you have gowns?”
I glanced pointedly at my limp bag and the filthy dress I wore. Did it look like we’d brought ball gowns?
Lady Meredith gasped. “Look at them. They’ve been through a horrible ordeal, Chey. Why would you even ask if they brought gowns?”
“Oh.” Lady Chey touched her lips. “I suppose they have nothing at all.”
Fantasies tickled the back of my mind: I could make her perfume come to life and suffocate her, or ask her dress to coil around her and constrict until she couldn’t breathe. Anything to make her stop talking.
“We’ll send a pair of gowns to your quarters,” Lady Chey said after a moment. “I think we’re all about the same size.”
“Thank you.” I pretended not to notice her curves, or the way her emerald dress was cinched to display her cleavage. Years of hard work and hunger had kept both Melanie and me from developing much in the way of feminine figures. We could—and frequently did—pass as boys. “I appreciate your generosity.”
“It’s my engagement ball. It would mean so much to me if you would join in the celebration.” Lady Meredith squeezed my hand and released me.
“We’d be delighted to attend,” Melanie said. “All our congratulations on your engagement.”
Lady Meredith practically glowed as she and Lady Chey offered slight curtsies before turning down the hall, their maids in tow. “We’ll find a russet for Julianna. It will match her eyes. And perhaps a teal for her friend . . .”
Melanie and I exchanged pleased smiles as our guide beckoned us farther into the palace.
We didn’t have to hide the way we gazed around the palace, but if our expressions were wonder filled, it was by design only. I noted statues large enough to conceal me, and ventilation grates where supplies could be hidden. I kept track of my steps and every turn we took until finally the servant produced a key and opened a heavy oak door.
“These will be your apartments,” the man said. “Traditionally, they were kept as quarters for visiting Liadian royalty. We thought it fitting that you receive them now.”
I didn’t respond, just slipped into the large sitting room to get a good look at the silk-covered sofas and chairs, the lace draped across tables, and a half-dozen full bookcases. There were paintings of people and places, but nothing familiar.
“All the furniture was carved from trees cut from the surrounding forest, primarily. The wood panels on the walls are chestnut, like the rest of the palace.” He went on, naming everyone in the portraits and passing along any gossip he knew first- or second- or thirdhand. “Here is the larger bedchamber where the duchess will sleep. The fireplace, you might have noticed, has no back, so the fire can throw its heat into both the sitting room and the master bedroom. For privacy in the summer, there’s a lever that will lower a blind.”
He guided us through the washroom and Melanie’s room. Everything was more spacious and grand than I could have hoped. During our tour, a small army of maids invaded with towels, robes, and baskets of soaps and other toiletries. Skyvale Palace had real plumbing and had been fitted with gas lamps in every room.
“Skyvale Palace is a little over two hundred years old—pre-wraith, like most of the homes inside the Hawksbill wall—which means it was originally built and run using magic. In the last hundred years, we’ve significantly refined the methods of running the palace using new scientific advancements and modern technology, and we also make use of systems that previously used magic.” He finished showing us all the wonders of the palace, and finally left us alone.
I unbraided my hair and indulged in the most delicious bath of my life, lingering until the water grew cold, and then put on a long silver dress to explore while Melanie took her turn.
There were five windows, two of which were actually doors and led to a small balcony; one of those doors was in my room. Thoughtfully, Melanie had already hung our red ribbon in the window: the signal to the other Ospreys that we’d succeeded in installing ourselves in the palace.
I stepped outside and leaned over the edge of the balcony. The air was crisp with an autumn breeze and the scent of turning leaves and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages down wide avenues splashed with red and gold. The private district for Skyvale’s nobility, all wealth and extravagance.
Among the autumn foliage, indigo-coated guardsmen walked the perimeter of the grounds. Two men passed the base of the wide staircase, near the entrance gate.
From here, Skyvale was beautiful. The immense wall surrounding Hawksbill blocked most of the view of the other districts: Greenstone, Thornton, and the Flags. From here, the city had no poor, no refugees, no flashers being taken off the streets.
No children living in a forgotten castle in the mountains.
No deadly wraith rushing eastward.
All that could be seen was beauty, prosperity, and people who’d never known anything beyond their own privilege. Children ran under the white cascade of a fountain far below. Their laughter floated upward.
“This is certainly a nice change from the old palace.” Melanie stood in my doorway, wrapped in towels and a robe.
“More dangerous.” I nodded toward her room. “Get dressed. Dinner should arrive soon, and we’ve got work to do.”
She snapped and thumped her chest, the Ospreys’ salute, and vanished into the other room.
After a maid dropped off a heavy crock of soup and a loaf of fresh bread, Melanie and I set
tled around the table in the sitting room. We devoured the soup within five minutes, and only when we were halfway through the bread did we slow down. Eating was a competition in the old palace, where the slowest often nursed growling stomachs.
The desk in my bedroom had been stocked with pens and ink and palace stationery, so we positioned a few sheets side by side and started with a long rectangle, a huge rounded bulge at the back.
“This is the palace.” I drew two perpendicular lines for the exterior doors we knew about, including the one we’d entered through. “And the king’s office was . . .” My pen nib hovered over the eastern end of the palace. “Here?”
“Yes.” Melanie broke off a piece of bread and chewed. “And that’s us.” She tapped the western front.
I marked both locations. “What else?”
“There was a glass building near the office, too. I saw it out the window.”
I’d missed it, but I drew a glass house where she pointed. “The king is ill,” I said, adding outlines of the front gardens and courtyards. A circle and spray for the fountain, an immense staircase, and a scattering of statues: I added everything I remembered.
“Yes. Looks like he has been for a while, but I haven’t heard much talk about it. Have you?”
“Nothing.” Which seemed strange, but perhaps his decline had been so gradual no one noticed. Perhaps they thought he was simply growing old.
“This is a good start on the map.”
I corked the ink and wiped the nib clean using a damp cloth. “There’s a long way to go, but it’s unlikely we’ll find palace plans just lying around. We’ll take a walk tomorrow and get a better sense of the layout.”
“And then that ball. Perhaps Tobiah will be there.” Melanie smiled slyly as she placed our dishes on a tray. “I saw the way he watched you.”
So I hadn’t imagined his look.
He hadn’t recognized me. He couldn’t have. As far as Tobiah knew, Princess Wilhelmina Korte had vanished years ago. It was unlikely he’d ever thought of me since that night. Perhaps he’d thought me familiar and was trying to place me. I’d just have to give him every reason to believe I was only Lady Julianna Whitman, a duchess from a wraith-fallen kingdom.
I wished I could avoid him altogether.
“I’m sure he will be at the ball. Quinn would be so jealous.”
“It’s strange that Chey is hosting Meredith’s engagement ball,” I said.
“Why? They seem to be friends.”
I laid the mapping pens back in the writing box and found one more suitable for writing letters. “But Chey is only a countess. Maybe Meredith is marrying down and it’s embarrassing.”
Melanie snorted. “Regardless, they’re our way into society. Try to be polite.”
“I’m always polite.”
“You’re always eyeing people’s valuables. That’s hardly polite.”
As evening fell, our discussion moved toward the contents of our first written report to Patrick, and the possible routes we’d take to the bakery, now that we knew our position in the palace.
There wasn’t much to write, but we added a few lines about our treatment so far, the upcoming ball, and the king’s deteriorating health.
“It seems like a pointless risk to send a report on the first night.” I fanned the paper, giving the ink a moment to dry before I folded it in thirds.
“I agree, but Patrick insists. A report every three days or he storms the palace because he thinks we’ve been discovered.” Melanie rolled her eyes and dipped a blot of blue wax onto the edge. I pressed my thumb into the cooling blob, sealing the report with my print. Not that it would look any different from Melanie’s, but again, Patrick insisted, and I didn’t care enough to fight about it.
“I should go the first few times.” Melanie laid her fingertips on the edge of the report. “My absence will be less suspicious if someone comes looking for you.”
My hand was still on the letter. “This is a stupid risk.”
“But you’ll let me do it?” She raised an eyebrow.
I released the paper, and as soon as lights began vanishing across the city, she slipped out the window.
The next day, Melanie didn’t emerge from her bedroom until noon. So much for taking a walk through the palace to expand our map. “You were out late last night,” I said, not lowering the book I’d been reading. The Fall of Magic in the Indigo Kingdom had kept me company most of the morning.
“Just long enough to stick the report behind the loose brick, as ordered. Patrick left a few items for us: spare ropes and hooks, dark clothes, and a few small knives. I’ve hidden all the things that need hiding.” She sat at the table where lunch had already cooled and began filling her plate with bread and slices of chicken and ham and cheese. “You were sleeping when I got back.”
But I’d waited for two hours before I stepped onto the balcony, worrying that maybe I should go after her. We’d worked in the city countless times, though mostly together. So what could have kept her?
I could still feel the glass chill my palm as I pushed open the balcony door, still feel the frigid wind as I scanned the courtyards and gardens for signs of Melanie.
Just as I was about to climb over the balcony rail and hunt for her, a shadow on a lower balcony stayed me. Someone else had been staring down at the city. With the streetlamps below, the figure was only a silhouette.
But he’d looked up, right at me.
Shivering, I’d lifted my hand. He’d waved back, then leaned his hips on the balcony rail and watched the city.
I’d come inside. Maybe Melanie hadn’t been able to get back in because of him, either.
“Did you see someone on another balcony last night?” I asked.
Melanie was chewing, but she shook her head. After an exaggerated swallow, she gulped down some wine and said, “No, everything was quiet. I didn’t even see your friend Black Knife.”
“You know you’re my only friend.”
“I’m sure you say that to all the Ospreys.”
My grin disappeared when someone knocked on the door. I stood to answer, but Melanie was faster.
Unease smoldered in the back of my thoughts as a maid bustled in, carrying long, paper-wrapped parcels and a wooden box. “Lady Meredith sends her regards, along with these gowns for tonight’s ball. We’ll have to alter them quickly to fit you, but we’ll make do. Lady Chey ordered a carriage for you; it will arrive with the others this evening.”
“A carriage? Where is the ball?” I pressed my eyebrows together, as though uncertain of being taken from the palace already. Attending a ball seemed like expecting a lot of two young women who’d just been through tragedy, but Melanie and I needed the introduction into society. We’d simply have to work harder to maintain our story.
“It’ll be at the Chuter mansion, my lady. The family has a home in Hawksbill, like many lords and ladies. They stay in the palace only rarely, though most keep rooms here.”
This was good. It meant we’d see more of Hawksbill from ground level. Without having to hide or pretend we were maids, like we usually did.
The afternoon passed quickly as we tried on the gowns and held still while the cloth was pinned. A seamstress came in to make quick alterations while the maid busied herself with our hair and cosmetics and jewelry.
At last, the transformation was complete. I wore deep russet and silver, with a silver teardrop pendant hanging just below my collarbone. The maid had pulled my hair back into an intricate braid, revealing rather severe cheekbones, which she softened with rose powder.
When they stepped away and I finally saw myself in the mirror, it showed what I might have been if I’d grown up in Aecor: a princess.
SIX
THE CARRIAGES ARRIVED as the sun slipped into the west, lighting the city’s mirrors with orange flame.
Melanie and I waited in the front hall with handfuls of others, everyone clothed in their most elegant attire. Men strode around in their tailcoats, looking impatient. Ladies
glanced at mirrors to make last-minute adjustments to their coiled braids or shimmering gowns. Finally, guards hauled open the heavy glass doors and nobles poured outside, into the waiting carriages.
“This one is yours.” A valet led us toward a white carriage at the end of the line, a silver cresting wave painted onto the door: the sigil for House of the Sea.
I tipped up my chin and stepped into the carriage, not bothering with his offered hand. Once Melanie was inside, the door shut and ours followed the other carriages down the palace drive and into Hawksbill.
We drove by columned mansions with intricate reliefs carved into the stone, and long, winding drives bordered by generous gardens and fountains. Roses and ivy hung on iron trellises, and flags bearing house sigils fluttered in the breeze. Dragon. Sea. Unicorn. Sun.
The caravan of carriages turned along the winding streets, and reflected sunlight shone straight through our window, forcing us to close the curtains or go blind. For the moment, we were alone. “We’re still reeling from our trek through the wraithland,” I said, even though Melanie didn’t need the reminder. The clip-clop of horse hooves covered my voice.
Melanie nodded. “But we’re trying to fit in like nothing’s wrong. We don’t want to talk about our experiences. We don’t even want to talk about home. We’re afraid if we do, we’ll show weakness.”
“Perfect. We’ll remain the enigmatic beauties of the evening.” I held my face straight for a heartbeat, until Melanie cracked a smile and we both fought off a fit of giggles.
It wasn’t a long trip; it’d have been quicker to walk than wait in the carriage line for ours to reach the front door, but walking would have been unseemly. Practicality almost always was.
But when the door opened, the vision of lights was worth the wait.
The Chuter mansion boasted a dozen columns carved from marble, each with a sprinkling of tiny mirrors, which threw off the sun’s light. Cold torches waited for dusk, still over an hour away, but the buzzing of crickets already filled the air.