Aurelia

  VANTAUGE HOMESTEAD was printed across the paper in familiar handwriting.

  mr. Vantauge pulled away, walking toward the cabin. A twelve-foot wall of hewn logs formed the length of the building, and a sweet, vaguely off-key hum drifted out the lone window.

  robert slipped ahead, ducking under the low door frame. "There's a letter from uncle Henry," he told his mother.

  she set a soapy dish on the plain wood table and dried her hands on a cloth. Her blue eyes sparkled, and she pushed a loose strand of blond hair back under her scarf. "really, brian?" she said to her husband. "We had word from Henry only last month. He must miss you."

  "more likely he is writing to ask why I haven't given up this 'foolhardy adventure' of mine yet." robert's father winked as he slid onto a bench and cracked open the letter's wax seal. gently he unfolded the wrinkled parchment.

  robert and his mother watched, eager to hear the news. Letters did not arrive often on the frontier, and letters from family were especially treasured. mrs. Vantauge allowed the pewter mugs and wooden dishes to sit idle on the sideboard. Neither she nor her son made a sound.

  Her husband's face darkened as he read. Instead of sharing the details or passing the precious paper to his wife, he folded the parchment and slipped it through the slit in his trousers into his pocket. Then, without looking up, he walked outside, leaving his audience in unfulfilled suspense.

  Nothing more was said about the letter until dinner that night. robert knew enough to let his mother handle the issue. she was the one with the gift for setting people at ease.

  mr. Vantauge sat down in his chair to a plate piled high with thick slices of roasted pheasant and homemade bread. steam rose off the food, and the spicy scent of gravy filled the small room. "I could smell supper clear out in the barn," he said. "I haven't forgotten a special occasion, have I, mary?"

  robert's mother set the flower-sprigged pitcher of milk on the table and smiled. "you have your son to thank for the fresh meat. He found the pheasant in one of your snares this morning." she lit a candle. "We thought you deserved a treat now you've finished the plowing."

  "still the seeding left." mr. Vantauge plunged a fork into the white meat and began sawing away at it with his knife. "Cannot afford to wait for the weeds to begin to grow."

  mrs. Vantauge sat down, lifted her own fork, and asked gently, "did Henry have anything of interest to discuss in his letter?"

  The sawing knife froze. "He wants me to return to the palace for a while, but I have no intention of going."

  "Why does he wish you to come?"

  The muscles around mr. Vantauge's mouth tightened. "We'll discuss it after dinner. I've had a long day and would prefer to eat in peace."

  The cheery tone in the room disintegrated under his sullen stare. robert and his mother exchanged brief looks. Tension clung to the dinner table, the participants holding themselves erect, each head, each shoulder, each arm suspended in the thick air. utensils moved in slow motion lest they bang against a plate.

  The slightest noise might tear a hole in the tablecloth of silence.

  As the last bite disappeared from his father's dish, robert slowly began to clear the table. He had no intention of leaving the cabin before the upcoming discussion.

  mr. Vantauge passed an empty mug to his son and pushed his chair back, but he did not get up. "Henry wants me to return to run an investigation. They've had four years to engage a new spy. I'm not responsible for their failure to do so. He's just going to have to do what he should have done before and hire someone to my old post."

  mrs. Vantauge nodded. "yes, you're right." Her voice softened. "It must be important, though, if Henry asked you to come."

  "He still thinks this venture is a phase I'm going through."

  she nodded in sympathy, then prompted, "did he explain the problem?" Of course he did. robert watched his father. uncle Henry could not ask his brother to travel halfway across the kingdom without stating the purpose, but mr. Vantauge had never discussed a current investigation.

  This night was different, though. perhaps robert's father felt he could talk about the case because he was not taking it. perhaps he felt it was safe to share the details this far away from court, or perhaps he felt his son was now old enough to keep a secret. For whatever reason, the former spy relented. "my brother believes the life of the crown princess is in danger."

  blackness engulfed robert's mind. shock blocked out everything except the crackle of parchment and mr. Vantauge's voice reading the letter aloud.

  The Palace, Tyralt City

  XXV year of King Viry Lauzon

  To Brian Vantauge,

  I am writing you tonight not as your brother, but as the king's adviser. A week ago, a lady's maid found a silver goblet on the bedroom table of the crown princess. Not recognizing the snake mold entwined around the handle, the lady's maid informed me of the object. Its polish was laced with a deadly poison.

  I began an investigation without success. The goblet has no signature and cannot be traced to any silversmith in Tyralt City. The placement of the poison suggests a hired assassin; however, this broadens the search for the actual instigator. Whoever the culprit, he or she has the money and power to hire someone inside the palace. This aspect of the plot concerns me the most and is the reason I have taken the desperate step of contacting you. The person who set the goblet on the table had access to the princess's bedchamber and has not been caught.

  Please, Brian, as the king's royal spy of fifteen years, your knowledge and skill are unmatched by anyone on today's royal staff. I know you had your reasons for leaving, but I am asking you to return to the palace to help save the life of the princess. There is no reason to believe this assassination attempt will be the last.

  With respect and love,

  Henry Vantauge

  King's Adviser

  The words rebounded inside robert's skull, faster and faster, slamming into all other considerations, grinding them to powder. "you could go," robert said as his father refolded the paper. "I can complete the seeding myself."

  "No!" both his parents responded at once. mr. Vantauge's chin jutted forward and mrs. Vantauge gripped her husband's hand as if she could hold him there through sheer physical force.

  "There is no telling how long the investigation might take or whether the effort would be successful," robert's father argued. "I have given enough of my life to protect the royal family."

  "yes." mrs. Vantauge turned over her husband's hand and slipped her own into the open palm. "And I've spent enough of my life waiting to see if my husband would survive his current investigation."

  "I left for a reason." robert's father ran a thumb along the back of his wife's hand. "And I'm not going back."

  robert swung his gaze between his parents. The strength of a promise made and a promise kept shone in both faces, impenetrable. "Then I will," he said, surprising himself with the statement.

  "What?" mr. Vantauge stood up. "you will not."

  "Why not?" robert replied, asking himself as much as his father. "I'm old enough to travel, and you don't really need me here."

  "There's more than enough work on this place for both of us." robert felt his hands clench. He liked the homestead. He did. but he could not help feeling that it was his father's dream, not his. His voice rose. "you can't expect me to stay here forever."

  "robert." His mother's calm tone intercepted his anger. she knew how he felt, though he had not yet managed to broach the subject with his father. "Leaving the homestead is one thing. returning to the palace as a spy is something else."

  "It's my decision to make."

  "Absolutely not," his father responded. "you have no experience running an investigation. you will get yourself killed."

  robert argued back "I'm not as well equipped as you, but then, you're not going."

  "It will take you almost a month to ride to the palace. The princess may be dead before you even arrive."

  robert had a brief vision of his ch
ildhood friend being placed in a coffin, her spirit gone forever. "Then I shall leave at first light."

  mr. Vantauge's knuckles gleamed white in the candlelight. "What if you can't save her? people always look for someone to blame. you're placing yourself at the mercy of the king."

  "I don't care to impress him. What difference does it make if he blames me?"

  "It can make a tremendous difference."

  "Look around you." robert swung an arm at the cabin's cramped interior. His parents' bed stood in one corner, and the family coat of arms, the only visible reminder of their earlier life, hung above the headboard. The cabinet and fireplace rested along the wall at robert's back, and the loft where he slept stuck out above his head. The entire cabin could have fit within his parents' bedchamber back at the palace. "I doubt the king would bother to follow me here. I don't see him pounding on our door hunting you down."

  "No, my brother does it for him through letters." The tone in mr. Vantauge's voice held a mixture of irony and bitterness. "even if you succeed in finding the culprit, there is no guarantee he or she will be brought to justice."

  "As long as Aurelia is alive, what does it matter?"

  "you're a naive fool!"

  The argument escalated into a growing spiral, the bedrock of reason crumbling under the scalding flames of emotion.

  robert felt himself wounded time and again by the questioning of his competence, but he fought back with his own unfair accusations, determined not to give ground. The single-minded pressure in his brain propelled him forward. He could not let Aurelia die, not the quick-witted girl who had argued with him in every debate and defeated him in his very first horse race. When he had left the palace it had been with the nagging fear that he might never see her again.

  And no matter how much his life had changed, he had never quite managed to shake her from his head. she was always in his thoughts, challenging him to do a better job or goading him to admit when he had made a mistake. she was a constant, unending voice, and he could not accept the thought of her death. He would go to the palace.

  "enough." mrs. Vantauge's cool voice broke into the flaming atmosphere. "robert, you know I do not want you to go." she put a hand on her son's shoulder. "I have no more wish to see you place your life in the hands of others than I have to see your father do so in another investigation.

  "However." she gave her husband a pleading look. "This is robert's decision to make. We can't keep him here against his will, brian. He is old enough to make his own choices."

  mr. Vantauge flung up his hands in disgust and slammed out of the cabin.

  robert winced at the memory. Aurelia's expectant face returned to the forefront of his vision. "my father could not leave the farm," he said in response to her query.

  Aurelia nodded, seeming to accept his explanation without question. He supposed the trauma of the recent news had dulled her senses. Instead of prying, she turned a corner.

  palace Hill rose up before them, the steepness of its dramatic slope nothing next to the sheer cliffs hidden on its opposite side. The palace sprawled across the top, a fortress of stone walls embedded in volcanic rock. The tower and turrets, spires and battlements, reached up above the outer wall into the evening sky. A backdrop of gray clouds buried the distant rim of the Valshone mountains so that only the palace appeared to stand out above the valley floor. shadows slanted down, masking one side of the ominous structures. A palace built for defense, for intimidation, for deterring the most powerful invading army. The front gate stood open now after a century of peace, but those same doors would slam secure at the first indication of attack.

  Secure from an outside threat, but from an inside one? The thought reminded robert that he did not yet know how Aurelia had managed to enter the city alone. "How did you escape the palace today?" he asked. "After the attack last night, I thought your father had you restricted to your rooms for your own safety."

  "Then he ought to have told me the truth." she lifted her chin. "If I tell you how I left, you must swear not to share the information with anyone, not even Chris or your uncle."

  His jaw clenched. uncle Henry had been none too happy about the escapade the night before. On the other hand, if robert did not learn how she had managed to leave without an escort, how was he to prevent her from doing so in the future? besides, he had already disobeyed the king's orders by telling her about the assassination plot. What was to prevent her from sharing his secret if he betrayed hers? "I swear."

  she ducked under a curtain of willow branches beside the winding road. "I smuggled my way out on a supply wagon. guards are trained to keep a threat from entering the palace. They rarely inspect wagons going out."

  "What about when you return? Won't the guard at the front gate tell your father then?"

  "And admit to being on duty when I left?" she popped back out from behind the branches. "No one wants to be that person, robert."

  He tried to squelch a sense of admiration. It took a certain amount of courage, wit, and reckless abandon to manipulate an entire palace guard. Not to mention her father. "Why?" robert asked. "drew says you do this often. Why go to all that trouble time and time again?"

  she turned around and walked backward up the hill, sweeping a hand at the view below her. "This is my city, robert, its curves, its hidden crannies. I wanted to know it. Not just the polished mansions and the sculpted gardens, but the warped wooden doors, the rusted balconies, the broken tiles. And the people who live in it. I do know them. I can barter with a blacksmith, outsell a paperboy, or coax a tart from a stingy baker."

  Or a story from an old seaman, robert thought.

  "I could never do any of those things dressed as a princess," Aurelia said, "with a train of guards at my heels." There was an earnest tone to her voice, an honesty that held him. As did the irony of her words. That is why the people like her, he thought. They want her as a ruler because she does not behave like one.

  As she neared the front gate, Aurelia placed a hand on his shoulder. "Wait awhile before coming through. I would not want the guard to blame you for my leaving."

  she began to pull away, but robert caught her inner elbow. strands of dark hair had begun to escape from beneath her white cap. "you're safe in the palace where the guards can protect you," he said, willing himself to believe it. "I'm certain that is why the last attempt happened on the street. Tell me you will let me know the next time you leave."

  she met his gaze, gave a faint half smile, then removed his fingers from her elbow and walked toward the gate.

  The promise did not come.

  Chapter Seven

  THE PULSE OF POLITICS

  THE PARTY WAS LOVELY, SO LOVELY EVEN AURELIA was enjoying herself. Candles glowed from every windowsill in the ballroom. A mixture of men in dark frock coats and women in blue and purple gowns visited with one another. Champagne glasses clinked, toasting her. Aurelia nodded at the smiling faces, thanking the guests for their good wishes. She stepped through the crowd, steering a path to the dance floor. Someone was waiting for her.

  A glimpse of her father brought her to a halt. He was speaking with Henry but turned to salute her with a glass. The king smiled and beckoned. A pathway opened up until she was close enough to hear his voice over the chattering crowd and humming music. He bent his head down close. "I'm so proud of you, my dear," he whispered, giving her a light kiss on the forehead, then raising up in rich laughter. Henry joined in. Aurelia did not catch what they said as she returned to her quest to reach the ballroom's center.

  Elise blocked her path, towering oddly above Aurelia's head. The queen's snow-white gown clashed with the sea of dark party wear. She did not look at her stepdaughter, instead resting her eyes above Aurelia's tiara. "Here she is, lost among the crowd," Elise said, her shrill voice echoing above the din. She was speaking to someone just behind Aurelia's left shoulder.

  Then she chastised her stepdaughter. "You need to begin the first waltz, silly child. No one can have the pleasure of dancing at
your wedding until you do so first." The queen reached out, took Aurelia's hand in her gloved grasp, and pushed with astonishing power.

  Stepping back, Aurelia felt a cold, viselike grip close around her upper left arm. It steered her free of the crowd out to the center of the dance floor. The music stopped, and the voices quieted. Even the clinking of crystal ceased. Across the empty space, a thousand eyes blurred into a hazy fog.

  The viselike grip on her arm turned her around. She gazed at a black cravat resting on a black silk shirt between the folds of a black frock coat. Her eyes raised to see the face of the owner of the cravat, the shirt, the coat, and the grip molded to her arm. But there was no face to see.

  She was staring into the hollow pits of an empty black skull.

  Aurelia jolted awake, her chest aching with terror. she gasped for breath, trying to squeeze extra air from the lungs caging her heart. The nightmare skull seared her mind. she reached a shaking hand up to her forehead, pushing back thick strands of hair. Then her eyes ran fearfully around the room, peering into the shadows. Nothing. No one.

  she stumbled out of the bed over to the fireplace. somehow she managed to secure a slender wooden brand and set it on the banked coals. Her trembling fingers took what seemed like hours to transfer the flame to the candle on her bedside table. Finally, light glowed. Her salvation.

  A council meeting was called for ten o'clock in the morning. As always, Aurelia was the first to arrive. The room's long mahogany table and matching chairs reflected her father's taste rather than her stepmother's. perhaps elise had found the cramped space not worth changing, or perhaps she feared her husband might move the old, sharp-edged furniture elsewhere.

  Aurelia slipped into her favorite seat. she could not sit at the table's ends as those were reserved for her father and stepmother, and she would not sit at the back, neither wanting to be trapped nor to give the impression of hiding. she preferred to sit along the outside at least one chair down from her father. This suited her both because it placed her beside Henry, whom she trusted, and because she was close enough to look her father in the eye.