Crown of Coral and Pearl

“Of course, milady. I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.”

I hardly left my room for the rest of the week. There was no one in New Castle I wished to see, least of all Ceren. He came once more, but I refused to speak to him, and he didn’t try again. But each night, when the rest of the castle was abed, I made my way to the portrait hall, where I had imaginary conversations with Zadie. Mostly I apologized for letting her down, for letting everyone down. The only thing stronger than my desire to return to my family was my fear for my people. If it weren’t for that, I would have escaped, or died trying.

At least my wounds were fully healed, though I kept them bandaged to avoid suspicion. I had realized something after Ceren told me he’d cut off my family’s water supply: if he ever discovered that the coral had something to do with my healing abilities, he would become as obsessed with that as he was with the pearls. And once he learned that the blood coral only grew from the bodies of the Varenians, my people might not just become slaves. They could be slaughtered.

Tonight, I kissed my fingers and pressed them to Zadie’s painted lips before turning toward the end of the hall. I gasped at the sight of a cloaked figure approaching me. Instinctively, my hand reached for my skirts. I kept the coral blade my father had given me strapped to my leg now, just in case.

“Calm yourself, child. It’s only me.”

I exhaled through my nose. “Lady Melina, what are you doing here?”

She pulled me into a shallow alcove in the wall. “I’ve been forbidden from speaking with you. But there’s something you need to know, so that in case you have another opportunity to put an end to the prince, you don’t squander it like you did the last time.”

“I’m so sorry, Melina. None of this has turned out like I planned.”

“Never mind that now. What’s done is done. But you need to know that it was Ceren who killed Queen Talia, and there is no doubt in my mind he’ll do whatever it takes to become king.”

A cold chill crept over my scalp. “A servant murdered the queen,” I whispered. “Ceren told me.”

“He’s full of lies. You must see that by now.”

“But surely if that were true, someone would have done something.” It wasn’t that I didn’t think Ceren capable of murder, but Talia had been his stepmother; his brother’s mother and his father’s wife.

“He covered his tracks well. The servant he blamed for the crime was a sweet young girl who wouldn’t hurt a flea, but she had no money or power to defend herself. No one believed she did it, not even the king. But what could anyone do? The queen’s body was gone, and there was blood in her chambers. It was clear Talia had been murdered, but without a body for evidence, no one could accuse the real killer. Certainly not someone like me.”

“They never found Talia’s body,” I said, remembering what Ebb told me.

“No. Just the smears of blood on her walls and carpets. They found blood in the servant’s quarters as well, and on her gown. But it was the middle of the night when Ceren found her, asleep in her room, and she was completely oblivious to the queen’s death.”

That did seem a bit odd. “How do you know she wasn’t just pretending?” I asked.

“First of all, only a fool would kill a queen and return to her bed without washing the blood off herself. Second, as I said, she had no motive. And third, how did Ceren even know where to look? The girl wasn’t a lady’s maid. She was a lowly chambermaid, the kind who empties chamber pots and draws baths if she’s lucky. She couldn’t have been older than thirteen. She never would have been allowed to be alone in the queen’s presence, and frankly I don’t think she was strong enough to overpower Talia. Nor was she in any way capable of making a body disappear.”

Lady Melina was right. It didn’t make sense for a servant to do something like that, not unless she had a very strong motive. And Ceren? What was his motive to kill the queen?

The answer came to me immediately. The crown. If the king died before Ceren’s twenty-first birthday, Talia would be next in line to rule, not Ceren. “If the crown had passed to Talia, what would have become of Ceren?”

“It’s hard to say,” Melina admitted. “It’s only happened once that I know of, a thousand years ago, when a queen refused to relinquish the crown to her son once he turned twenty-one. He tried to have her deposed, and she had him executed.”

The Bloody Queen. I remembered Ebb’s story of the wise queen who had risen to power. She must have been the start of the queendom that ended with Princess Ilara’s death. “And you think Ceren was afraid the same thing would happen to him?”

“I believe that boy would do anything for the crown, including kill his own stepmother.”

I thought back to his words earlier. Everything he told me had made sense: the kingdom needed a strong ruler, and without the pearls, Ceren believed he would die young. But if he was capable of feeding a child to a monster, he was more than capable of killing a woman who stood in his way.

I had been a fool to trust a single word from Ceren’s lips.

“Is this why you stayed at New Castle?” I asked. “To try to stop Ceren from ascending the throne?”

She nodded. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, child. But promise me something.”

“Of course,” I said.

“If you have another opportunity to end this, don’t let it pass you by.”



      25



Ceren might be a liar, but he kept his word to me: I was allowed to leave the castle for one day each week. He surprised me further by agreeing to let me take riding lessons. I knew now that it wasn’t enough to warn Sami about Ceren’s devices or even his plans to enslave the Varenians. Lady Hyacinth had called my people the enemy, and Ceren had to be stopped before he could become king. And if I ever had the opportunity to leave New Castle, my only hope of escape would be by horseback. Ceren had made no further mention of our market trip, but I would get there this time, with or without him.

My riding lessons were at Old Castle, an hour’s ride from New Castle. There were stables in the base of the mountain, but Old Castle was where the horses were bred and trained. Grig was my instructor, and by my third lesson, I could canter independently. I had trousers made so I could ride astride my horse, which felt far more secure than sidesaddle, even though Ebb found the entire thing inappropriate.

I had another secret motive for going to Old Castle once a week, though I barely admitted it to myself. Talin hadn’t been at the castle since I killed Salandrin, and I still hadn’t had a chance to thank him for saving my life. But he was never there when I came for lessons, or if he was, he didn’t come to see me.

I understood it to some extent. Ceren was obviously aware of the connection between us, and rubbing it in his face wouldn’t make things better for either Talin or myself. But even though the sun on my skin and the freedom I felt on horseback made me so happy I nearly wept with joy every time I stepped out of the castle, I yearned for something beyond fresh air.

I dreamed of Talin often, only to wake up with a hollow feeling in my chest. I remembered how he had looked at me before he handed me the knife, how I’d felt seen for who I really was.

I wanted that feeling again.

After a successful fourth lesson, I rode back to the barn with Grig, both of us laughing at how I’d nearly fallen off after my horse decided to let out a joyful buck for no apparent reason.

“Milady!” a voice shouted from across the fields. I turned to see a young squire galloping toward us. Grig and I shared a worried glance and rode to meet him.

The squire pulled his horse to a skidding stop in front of me. “It’s the king, milady. He’s very ill. The prince needs you to come at once. And I’m to fetch Prince Talin, as well.”

“He’s not here,” I said, but Grig was already digging his heels into his horse’s flanks.

“I’ll tell him,” he called over his shoulder. “Go!”

Ceren’s guards, who accompanied me on every outing, guided their horses to stand on either side of me. “We’ll ride back, milady,” one of them said. “It’s faster than the carriage.”

“Is that necessary?” I asked the squire.

He nodded. “The prince seemed very concerned. The doctor said the king may not make it through the night.”

I gaped at him over my shoulder as my mare took off with the guards’ horses. “What?”

“That’s right,” he called. “Prince Ceren told me to tell you. The king is dying!”

The king had been dying for years, I told myself as we galloped toward the castle. This didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.