Authors: Jenny Lundquist
“Lord Nichols, how are you?” I have always liked Lord Nichols. He never seemed very concerned by the rumors of my mask and is one of the few nobles in Allegria who genuinely seems to like me. “Do you still serve as the Royal Record Keeper?”
“I do,” he says. “It is not a very exciting life, I am afraid. I spend most of my days buried amid old books and letters, but it suits me.”
“And where is Lady Nichols?”
“I’ve sent her to her parents’ village,” he says, a shadow passing over his face. “It is far north, near the Opal Mountains. I thought it best if she left Allegria for the time being.” His gaze slides to Andrei, and then back to me. “There are strange rumors in the city these days, Your Highness.”
The orchestra begins a lively piece, and the music pounds in my ears. This is the first time anyone has dared to speak directly to me about the rumors.
“I appreciate your concern,” I say, keeping my voice low and looking around. “But those words raise me up upon the edge of a sword—one I could easily fall on.”
“They are more than just words,” he says, also glancing around the room. “You are, in fact, the firstborn.” He lowers his voice even further. “Do you wish to rule at all?”
I am certain Lord Nichols is merely curious, as, I’m sure, are many others in the kingdom. In this very room, even. Behind the masks of the men and women around us, how many listen while pretending not to? How many have pressed themselves into the shadows, intending to carry my words back to Andrei, in an effort to earn his favor?
“It was my father’s desire that Andrei rule, and I shall do nothing to overturn his wishes,” I say loudly.
“You’re a wise girl, Your Highness.” He leans closer and whispers, “And you would do well to be cautious.”
“Thank you, Lord Nichols.”
After he takes his leave I slowly make my way back to the dais, where a line of guests still wait before Andrei. My eyes fall upon a girl at the front in a dark purple gown and a
purple-and-silver costume mask. I halt in midstep, recogniz
ing her slight build, the stubborn way she squares her shoulders, and the color of her hair. . . .
The palace guard nods, and Elara steps forward to speak to Andrei.
Chapter 22
Elara
S
houldn’t I at least
meet
the brother Lord Royce expects me to betray?
I drop into a curtsy and affect the breathless voice that has served me well so many times before. “Good evening, Your Majesty.”
“Good evening.” He does not look me in the eyes; his gaze roams around the room, giving me time to study him. Elements of his face remind me of myself, and I’m tempted to rip off my mask and tell him the search is over. Tell him that, far from being his enemy, I could become his greatest ally, if he would only accept me.
Even though it’s not wise, I can’t help myself from saying,
“Guards searched a shop I visited yesterday. They were look
ing for a girl.” I giggle and lower my voice conspiratorially. “Tell me, who is she?”
His face twists, and he finally looks at me. Have I gone too far?
“I was only wondering if she was someone important?” I add quickly.
“She is merely a criminal,” he says. “Rest assured, when she is caught I will deal with her.”
Deal with me?
Is he even the slightest bit curious about me? Or am I simply a problem for him to handle, in much the same way I was for my father?
Andrei seems unaware of my distress and has turned his attention back to the party. “Have a good evening,” he says, clearly dismissing me.
I slink into a corner of the room where a portrait of Andrei hangs. I resist the urge to rip it off the wall and tear it to shreds.
Lord Royce was right. I have no reason to believe I will ever be allowed to live peacefully. The options are exactly as he said: Go into hiding, or rise up and declare myself a claimant to the crown.
A voice, soft as a whisper, echoes next to me. “What are you
doing
here?” Wilha has sidled up next to me, the nervousness in her demeanor plain to see, even behind her opal
mask.
“I need to speak with you,” I whisper back. “Is there somewhere private we can go?” I pause, as inspiration strikes. “A library, maybe?”
“A library?” Wilha says, sounding confused. “Why a library?”
“It’s private. I have something important to tell you.”
“Shall we go now?” she says.
I glance around the room. Lord Murcendor speaks with a noble couple. Andrei is still sitting on his throne. Lord Royce is in a corner, huddling with several men, plotting who knows what.
“I’ll go first and wait for you in the hall. A few minutes later, when you’re sure no one is watching, I want you to slip away.”
Wilha nods and I quickly leave the room. In the corridor, I plant myself in front of a painting hanging from the wall. If questioned, I’m prepared to say I’m interested in the art contained in the palace, far more so than the tediousness of the masquerade itself.
Wilha emerges and signals that I should join her as she hurries down the hall. The library turns out to be not far from the Grand Ballroom. It consists of several rooms lined with wall-to-wall glass cabinets holding leather-bound books. I inhale sharply; the books are similar in quality to the one Queen Astrid gave me. My eyes scan the titles in the cabinet nearest to us, but I don’t see another copy of the book.
“What do you need to tell me?” Wilha says.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I say, and find there’s a lot more truth than I realized in my words. “I know Lord Murcendor is here. Did he . . . ?” My voice catches. “I mean, has he—”
“He has not tried to harm me, though it is difficult to discern his mental state.” She pauses. “Is this why you sneaked into the palace, to inquire after my well-being?”
“It’s one reason. You need to be careful, Wilha. I don’t know how much news reaches you here in the palace—”
“Formally? Not much. Our brother sees to that.”
“Andrei would not have so much power over either of us if he didn’t wear the crown,” I say, trying to think of the best way to tell her what Lord Royce is asking of me.
Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean? I don’t know what you have heard in the city, but I have absolutely no intention of trying to overthrow my own brother.
Our
brother.”
“I know that. I wasn’t saying—”
I’m interrupted by footsteps in the corridor and the voice of a man calling out, “Wilha?”
“Who is that?” I mouth.
Wilha’s lips barely move, but I make out her words: “It’s Patric.”
Chapter 23
Wilha
“S
tay here,” I whisper to Elara. I wait until Patric has walked several yards past the library before stepping into the corridor.
“Patric?”
He turns, relief spreading across his face, before his expression regains its sternness. “You should not be wandering around the palace unescorted. If you wished to leave, you should have informed me or one of your other guards.”
“I am not a child, Patric. Nor do I take orders from you. Besides, I just wanted some fresh air.”
“You cannot be so careless. You are a fool, Wilha. And Stefan Strassburg is an even bigger fool to have let you return to Galandria.”
“
Let
me return?”
“Write to Stefan,” Patric says, a pained look crossing his face. “Tell him you wish to return to Kyrenica. Right now you’re safer there than you are here.”
Seeing the tender look on Patric’s face, I want nothing more than to tell him that Stefan and I are not betrothed. But he is the third person tonight who has shown fear for my safety, and I cannot easily dismiss so many concerns.
“Why should I do this? We were something like friends once, Patric, so I will ask you to tell me the truth.” I lower my voice. “Is it because of Andrei that you think I need to leave the kingdom?”
A look of understanding passes between us and he
nods. “Anyone who is caught suggesting you are the rightful heir to the crown has their homes or their businesses burned—though I am convinced that is more Lord Murcendor’s doing than Andrei’s.”
I close my eyes. How many have lost their livelihood—and perhaps their very lives— because they dared to speak of me as a queen?
“I don’t want to see you get hurt, Wilha,” Patric says softly. “And we were more than just friends.”
“No,” I say, opening my eyes and thinking of his unkindness the night I last saw him. “No, I don’t believe we were.”
Patric steps closer. “Wilha, I—”
Several heavy thuds echo from the library and his eyes widen. “Is someone in there?”
“No, Patric, don’t,” I say, but he’s already drawn his sword and dashed inside.
Elara kneels in the corner, candlelight glinting off her costume mask. Cabinets stand open and she is on her knees, furiously picking up books that must have just fallen to the ground.
Patric advances toward her until she’s backed up against a cabinet, the tip of his sword pointed at her. “Who are you?” he demands. Elara shifts her eyes to me. For once she seems at a loss for words.
“Sheathe your sword, Patric,” I say quietly.
“If you are the girl I think you are,” he says to Elara, “then I will have no problem running this blade straight through you.”
“Patric—”
“No, Wilha. I don’t know if you realize, but the guards were told to watch out for a girl that means the royal family harm. This could be the girl they were speaking of.”
“Yes, I do know that.” I look into Elara’s eyes. “And, yes. This is that girl.”
Chapter 24
Elara
I
wait for Patric to advance forward. How will they treat me this time? Will I be delivered to the dungeon and to Lord Murcendor? And after he’s through questioning me, will I be taken back to my cell? Or will it be straight to the chopping block?
“Sheathe your sword, Patric,” Wilha says again. “She is not a trained fighter; she cannot harm you.”
“What are you doing in here?” Patric demands, ignoring her. “Were you going to
assassinate the princess and then flee? Back away, Wilha,” he says as she steps toward him. “I am under orders to take her to Lord Murcendor.”
With a graceful sleight of hand, Wilha grabs at a weapon hanging at Patric’s waist and pulls it free. It’s a short-bladed sword, and I wonder if she’s going to help him escort me to the dungeon.
Instead, she points it directly at Patric. “You will not be taking her anywhere.”
Chapter 25
Wilha
P
atric’s eyes widen with shock. Instinctively, he shifts position, pointing his sword away from Elara and at me.
“What are you doing?”
“I cannot allow you to take her.”
“Have you ever trained with a short sword?” he asks, blinking rapidly.
“Not even once. But if you attempt to take her anywhere, I shall have to consider this my first lesson.”
“Wilha, you have become much more skilled, but you could never best me in a real fight.”
“Probably not, but I may give her just enough time to escape. And then you will have to fight me. I wonder how you will explain to everyone why you attacked the Masked Princess?”
I read the calculation in his eyes. He’s assessing, trying to understand the scenario before him, finally reaching the conclusion that he simply cannot.
“Lord Murcendor has lied about who she is, then?” he says, lowering his sword.
“Would that surprise you?”
“No,” he says after hesitating. “I suppose it would not.” He glances over at Elara. “So who is she?”
Patric waits while I consider my answer. He has lowered his weapon, but only temporarily. He will not allow a suspected assassin to walk away if he is not satisfied by my explanation—even if that means taking up a sword against me.
“Wilha—
don’t
,” Elara says, seeming to read my mind.
“I believe we can trust him. The secret cannot hold forever. Surely you must have come to this conclusion yourself?” I send her a silent message, and for once, Elara understands. After a slight hesitation, she unties her costume mask and removes it.
Still holding Patric’s short sword, I clumsily reach behind my head and fumble to remove my own mask.
“Wilha, stop!” Patric has raised his sword again. “You know it is forbidden.”
“Forbidden? By whom? My dead father? Or by my brother and the madman who controls him? I am an Andewyn and I am commanding you—with a sword in my hand—to
look
at me.”
Without waiting for an answer, I finish untying my mask and let it fall to the floor with a heavy
thunk
.
Patric pales and glances frantically between me and Elara.
He points his sword downward, appearing to lean on it
for support.
“She’s a look-alike?”
“Not a look-alike,” I say. “My twin.”
“Your twin?” Patric turns his full attention on me. “That is not possible.”