Megan isn’t wrong, because Megan isn’t stupid. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“No. I …” But I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to say. That I’m sorry. That I’m wrong. That I am the thing that goes bump in the night and they’d all be better off far, far away.
My voice cracks. My eyes fill with tears.
And then Ms. Chancellor can’t be held back anymore. “Oh, Grace.” She rushes toward me and pulls me into her arms. It’s almost like a mother. It’s almost like I’m loved. Even if I don’t deserve it.
“Let me look at you,” she says, pushing me gently away and eyeing me from head to toe. “Are you okay? When you ran away in Paris …”
“I’m okay.”
“Where did you go, sweetheart? What did you—”
“Hello.” Alexei’s mother’s hair is still wet from the rain. Her eyes are big and blue, just like her son’s. But when Ms. Chancellor turns and takes her in, it’s like she’s looking at a ghost.
“Karina?” She’s not entirely wrong. Alexei’s mother is thin and pale, and the nightgown she wears beneath one of Noah’s jackets is an eerie, dirty shade that probably used to be white. “Karina, where …”
Karina looks at Ms. Chancellor, and for a moment, there is a light in her eyes. Recognition is starting to dawn, but then it fades away again, like a sun that can’t quite find the strength to rise.
Ms. Chancellor turns on me. “What have you done?” she asks, and I snap.
“Do they know you’re here? Is that why you came?”
“Grace—”
“Is the Society trying to kill me?”
At the word Society, Karina shivers like someone just walked over her grave. Noah goes and slides an arm around her, leads her to the other side of the barn.
“Are they?” I persist when Ms. Chancellor’s silence is too much.
“The Society is not why I’m here. Or not precisely.”
“Then why?”
As soon as I’ve said the words, I regret them. I can see it in Ms. Chancellor’s eyes. Good news never brings anyone to my door.
“Grace, your grandfather …”
The barn doors are open, but it’s like her words suck all the air from the room. I can’t stop myself from swaying, unsteady. Alexei’s arm slides around my waist, anchoring me to him while Ms. Chancellor goes on.
“Sweetheart, he went to the palace, and …”
“They killed him,” I finish for her, but Ms. Chancellor hurries to shake her head.
“No! He’s alive. But they say he had a heart attack. He can’t be moved, or so they claim. I haven’t seen him. They won’t let me see him.”
Ms. Chancellor is always calm, always cool. But it’s like her chocolate-colored eyes are starting to melt, and for the first time I realize what I’m seeing. This isn’t a concerned member of my grandfather’s staff. This is the woman who has been with him for decades, working by his side, living under his roof. This is the woman who loves him, and my heart breaks just a little more.
“Why are you here?” I ask again, my voice softer.
“The Society has brokered an … arrangement.”
The last time I saw the Society, the central question seemed to be whether they should kill me or just step aside and allow the royal family to do it. I don’t have to hear about their arrangement to know that I won’t like it.
“There may be a … solution,” Ms. Chancellor says. “The Society would like for you to return to Valancia. They would like—”
“To kill me?”
“To end it,” Ms. Chancellor says. “I told them where they could shove their offer, but then your grandfather …”
She can’t finish, and I can’t blame her.
“What kind of arrangement?” Alexei asks, and for the first time Ms. Chancellor seems to realize we’re not alone.
“I’m not certain of the details, but Prime Minister Petrovic assures me that they have arrived upon a … compromise. They consider it something of a truce.”
“This is the same Society that was perfectly willing to let me die just to keep the status quo in Adria,” I remind her.
“Yes, dear. I know.” Ms. Chancellor sounds like a woman who knows entirely too well—who’d give anything to forget.
“I don’t trust them,” I say.
“Oh, neither do I,” Ms. Chancellor agrees.
It’s too hot in the barn. There are too many people watching, too much riding on one more-screwed-up-than-average teenage girl. I want to go back to when my biggest worry was whether I could trust the Scarred Man. I want to go back in time, but I can’t. So I settle for going outside.
The rain has turned to a hard, wet drizzle. Water’s not really falling from the sky anymore; it simply fills the air. It’s like walking into a cloud—or a fog. In a way, it’s how I’ve been feeling for ages.
Megan’s jacket is hanging on a nail by the door, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to pick it up and slip it on. Outside, water clings to me, soaking my hair and chilling me to the bone, but I barely feel it. It’s like I’m already numb as I ease farther and farther from the open barn doors and the light inside. I stand under the overhang of the barn’s roof, staring at the wet night, thinking. And then I want to scream. I want to fight and kick and claw until the rest of the world hurts as much as I do.
I want to make it bleed.
But I can’t. So I do the next best thing.
Megan’s phone is heavy in my hand when I pull it from the jacket’s pocket and dial the number that I wish I could forget.
As soon as the voice says hello, I know it’s a mistake. But I’ve always been my own worst enemy, and that, of course, is saying something.
“Where is he?”
Princess Ann’s cold laugh fills the line. “In a hurry, Grace? I suppose that makes sense. It’s foolish of you to call, you know. This can be traced. You’re being careless.”
My carelessness is the least of her problems, and of mine.
“If you hurt him, I will kill you,” I say. My voice is calm and even. “And, just so you know, that’s not a threat. This isn’t the frantic ranting of a delusional girl. I’m not talking crazy, Your Highness. I am crazy. And if you harm my grandfather in any way—if even one snow-white hair is out of place, I will hunt you for the rest of my life. And I will kill you.”
At the other end of the line, Ann giggles. For a moment, she sounds like the girl who used to be my mother’s best friend. She seems like the person in the photos that my mom kept all those years. But just that quickly, that girl is gone.
“Oh, Grace—” she starts, but I don’t let her finish.
“And then I’ll kill your son.”
A different kind of silence fills the line now. Ann isn’t laughing anymore.
“We want the same things, Grace,” she tries, but I shake my head. Finally, it’s my turn to laugh.
“I find that incredibly hard to believe.”
“We both want you to be safe and happy. We want you to be able to stop running.”
“You’re right,” I tell her. “I do want to stop running. Maybe I should just go ahead and kill you, hurry this process along.”
“Oh, Grace. What good would that do? I’m not in line for the throne, and you’re no killer,” Ann tells me, but she’s wrong.
I am a killer. And I know it. What I did to my mom was an accident, but does that make any difference? My soul is already charred, my moral account overdrawn. Would one more death really matter? Would two? Maybe I should set Valancia on fire—burn the whole world down. Maybe then I could stop running.
“You people are going to let him go,” I tell her.
“Oh, are we?” Ann says.
“You are if you don’t want the world to find out that you aren’t the rightful rulers of Adria.”
I don’t want to be a princess. I don’t want the spotlight and the chaos and the duty. But more than that, I want the people I love to be safe, and I’ll do whatever
it takes to make it happen. Even this.
“That would be a very hard thing to prove,” Ann tells me.
“But not impossible.” Even as I say the words, I know they’re true. “If it were impossible to prove, then none of this would be happening. My mother found proof, and you’re terrified I’m going to use it to expose you all.”
“Do you have it?” Panic fills Ann’s voice.
“Release my grandfather and you won’t have to find out.”
A long pause fills the line until Ann laughs again. “Oh, Grace. You always were a bright girl. Foolish, but bright.”
“You’re right. I am foolish. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter if you trace this call. I’m through running, but you might want to hide. You took my grandfather, and now I am coming for you.”
“Oh, Grace. Why would you do that when there is a far easier solution?”
I’m pretty sure that’s how the serpent sounded in the Garden of Eden. I’m starting to feel a lot like Eve, and yet I can’t help but snap, “What?”
I don’t believe her. I’ll never, ever trust her. But I’m not going to lie awake all night, wondering what she might have said. I’ve had enough what-ifs for a lifetime.
Still, the last thing I expect is for Ann to say, “Come home, Grace. Come home and meet me and we’ll discuss it.”
It takes a moment to be certain that I haven’t misheard.
“I might be crazy, but I’m not stupid,” I tell her.
“Talk to Ms. Chancellor, then. Ask her what you should do.”
“Gracie?”
Alexei is standing in the rain that’s falling harder now.
“Gracie, who is on the phone?”
I don’t say another word to Ann. I just hang up. She doesn’t deserve a good-bye.
Alexei inches closer to me. He’s afraid, I can tell. But I don’t stop to explain.
“Ann,” I admit. “She said there’s a solution.” It’s supposed to give me hope—the thought that there’s a way out—but it doesn’t. I’m too numb to feel anything anymore. Hope isn’t an option for me.
I can hear Alexei breathing; I can almost hear him thinking. It’s like he knows I’m standing on the threshold of a very bad idea.
“Grace, they can’t be trusted,” he says, and he’s right.
But I can’t help smiling when I look at him. “Neither can I.”
The wall that circles Valancia is a thousand years old, still tall and wide and solid. They call it one of the Wonders of the World, and it brings tourists here by the thousands. Ironic, considering that once upon a time it was built to keep people out.
Guard towers peek up at regular intervals. In a place or two, tourists can pay to climb to the top and stand with the sun on their faces as the wind blows off the sea. I know exactly how that feels, rising like a bird above the city, nothing between you and the horizon.
When I was little, I used to spend my summers chasing Jamie and Alexei up onto the wall.
When I was twelve, I jumped off, just to prove I could.
And now I’m back, wind on my face, sun at my back, on the verge of doing something stupid.
“You’re gonna be fine,” Megan says. We’re standing on top of the German embassy. From here, it’s literally a hop, skip, and a jump onto the wall itself. This is as far as my friends can follow.
“I wish you’d let us come with you,” Megan says.
“I’m supposed to go alone,” I say, just like I’ve been saying for the past twelve hours.
Once again, Rosie rolls her eyes. “Yes, and that has never ended badly.”
“Guys.” I look around at the group: Noah and Alexei both seem ready to start a fight; Megan and Rosie seem ready to end one. “I’ll be fine. And if I’m not … then at least it’s over.”
“Don’t.” Alexei grabs my hand before I can turn and jump onto the wall. “Don’t joke about that,” he says, pulling me into the safety of his arms.
I don’t dare tell him I’m not joking.
“I’ll be fine,” I say again, and then I reach up and kiss him, lingering a little longer than I should, savoring the feel of his freshly shaven cheek against my lips. I want to stay here and breathe him in, pretend that I’m the kind of girl who gets a happy ending. But I can’t, so I make myself pull away.
I don’t look back, but when I jump onto the wall I know that I’m alone. I should get bonus points for following directions. It goes against my very nature, after all. I don’t want to be here; I don’t want to do this. But, most of all, I don’t want any more blood on my hands, so I keep walking, and when the wall curves, climbing up the hill, I know I’m out of sight.
I am entirely alone when I hear her.
“Hello, Grace.”
The prime minister is in black today. I wonder if she’s come straight from a funeral. Or maybe she’s dressed for mine.
“Thank you for coming,” she tells me. It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes.
“I didn’t come for you.”
“Of course.” The PM smirks, as if she’s allowing me the indulgence of my indignation. “I’m sorry about Paris, Grace. I should have explained the situation to you more clearly.”
“You mean before you drugged and kidnapped me? Don’t bother.”
“This situation affects us all. It, in fact, affects the world. And the stability of that world is no laughing matter.”
“Do I look like I’m laughing?” I snap back.
“We only want to help,” she says, and now I do laugh.
“You mean the kind of help that might keep me from being hunted down like a rabid dog?”
Her gaze hardens and she talks on. “I’m glad you’re here. We have a solution that will make this problem go away and please everyone in the long run, I believe.”
“Everyone?” I don’t mask the sarcasm that I feel.
“Yes,” the PM says. “Everyone.”
Just as she says the word, a figure appears over her shoulder.
I don’t know who arranged to close the wall today, but it’s totally free of tourists. We’re alone when Princess Ann speaks.
“Hello, Grace. Thank you for coming.”
“Sure,” I say. “I mean, we all have to die sometime, don’t we?”
I hope she remembers my vow, but she doesn’t show it. She just nods at the PM, and it’s clear the two of them have already talked this through. The only problem is me.
What else is new?
“But that’s just it, Grace.” Ann steps closer, as if she has to make me see. Instinctively, I step back, and she halts. The last thing either of them wants is for me to start jumping off walls again.
Ann shakes her head. She almost looks like Mom’s best friend. “Nobody wants you to die.”
I almost believe her.
But then I remember.
“The men who attacked my friends yesterday in Dubrovnia didn’t seem to agree. Were they yours?” I ask Ann. Then I turn to the PM. “Or maybe they worked for the Society.”
“You’re at risk, Grace,” Ann says. “Your brother is at risk.”
“Jamie’s dead,” I say, the words automatic now. But neither of the women on the wall are fazed. I’m not surprised they don’t believe me.
“It doesn’t matter.” Ann gives a shrug. “As long as Amelia’s descendants survive, there remains a … problem.”
“And you think killing me and my brother is going to solve it?” I want to laugh. “Amelia lived two hundred years ago. There have got to be other descendants. Probably dozens. Maybe hundreds. Are you going to kill us all?”
“Wars have raged since then, Grace. Time has passed. Perhaps there are other descendants. Or maybe you and your brother are the end of the line.”
“Jamie’s dead,” I repeat.
“For your sake,” Ann says, studying me, “I almost hope that’s true.”
Suddenly, I’m too hot. The sun is too bright. I don’t want to be here. I want to turn and run all the way around the great walled city. I want
to jump into the sea and swim away.
“What do you want?” I ask.
At this, Ann and Prime Minister Petrovic share a look.
“Your mother was the only child of an only child of an oldest child. We know this. We can trace her line back to Amelia. What we want is for your oldest child to sit on the throne of Adria,” the PM says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.
“I thought the Society wanted to maintain a stable Europe?” I challenge.
But the PM is undaunted. “That is precisely what we want. And we intend to have it.”
They’re talking crazy, and I’m losing patience. “Say what you came here to say or I’m going to go ahead and kill you no matter what.”
I’m not prepared to hear Ann laugh. “Oh, Grace. You do have spirit. I hope my grandchildren inherit that from you.”
For a second I just stand atop the wall, stunned. And even as the words sink in, they still don’t quite make sense.
“You’re crazy,” I tell her, then turn to the PM. “She’s crazy. I’m serious. I think she is insane. And I’m something of an expert on the topic.”
“I assure you, Grace,” the PM says, “this matter is utterly serious. Hear her out. Please.” She almost chokes on the word.
“Amelia’s heir belongs on Adria’s throne, Grace,” Ann tells me, stopping only briefly to push her hair out of her face as the wind blows harder. “I’ve always wanted that. When I was a girl I wanted it more than anything. I still do. For a time, it seemed that I was Amelia’s heir, and I started trying to right this wrong then. I met the prince. I married the prince. Your mother and Karina and I … we thought we’d solved the problem. But I was the wrong princess.” The words are so surreal, so … crazy. I can’t quite believe this is happening when she says, “You are the right princess, and I want to end this. Now.”
“End it how?” I ask.
Ann smiles and shakes her head as if the answer should be the most obvious thing ever. “If Amelia’s heir marries the crown prince, then we are one generation from Amelia’s bloodline returning to its rightful place. All we need is a marriage. And a baby.”
“Baby?” I look at the PM. “Did she just say baby?”