“He told me I’m too cheeky for my own good.”
He doesn’t believe me. “Did he threaten you?”
I don’t answer, telling him all he needs to know.
Max’s jaw locks. He doesn’t speak for a moment. “My uncle likes to feel respected. He likes to be in control. He helped my parents get where they are. I think it’s made him feel like he has to protect the throne on Father’s behalf.”
“And I’m a thorn in his side.”
“It’s more like you’re a variable he didn’t account for. It makes you a threat in his eyes.”
“Why is he so interested in keeping your father on the throne?”
“He’s loyal to him.”
I bare my teeth in a smile. “I hope you’re right about that. Betrayal has been quite the epidemic on Kali lately, and it would be a shame if it infected anyone else.”
I turn away, but Max catches my elbow. “Don’t say that in front of my parents or uncle,” he says. “Not ever, Esmae. The only person they’ll suspect of betrayal is you.”
He releases me, but I’m rooted to the spot, too surprised by his warning to move. I want to ask him why he bothered, why it matters to him whether his parents suspect me of treachery. Why he doesn’t just stand back and let me stumble right into the fire.
Instead, I turn and climb out onto the right wing. I walk down to the end of Titania, to the very point of the arrowhead, where Bear waits.
My heart misses a beat. I can’t speak.
Bear doesn’t have Alexi’s confidence. His posture is more like mine: stiff, arms tucked close to his body like he’s trying to protect himself from the cold. The wind buffets us, and my hair whips against my cheek. I brush it out of my eyes.
“You look like him, you know,” Bear says at last. “Like Alex. I didn’t notice the resemblance before, but it was so obvious the moment I found out you were my sister. I replayed the broadcast of the competition about six times and you looked more and more like him each time.”
“You’re upset,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
He brushes my words away. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t ask to be thrown into space. I can’t believe she did that. I can’t believe she never told us. She remembers, you know. You were wrong about that part. No one’s memories were ever erased.”
“I know. I found that out last night.” My voice wobbles.
“I don’t want to be angry with you,” Bear says. “I don’t hate you for taking Titania from us. I just want to know why. Why did you come here to the uncle who betrayed us?”
“I couldn’t keep living in Alexi’s shadow.” Bear nods like he understands that. “I’m not sorry I competed, Bear, but I never wished any ill on you or Alexi. I have no intention of letting Titania destroy any of you.”
He kicks at the wing of his ship. “That doesn’t help me decide what to do, though.”
“Do?” His childlike frustration makes me smile. “What do you mean?”
“You’re my sister. You’re as much my family as Alex. I owe you both my loyalty. How am I supposed to fight you?”
I can’t believe he’s even contemplating such a question. I can’t believe he believes so deeply in the idea of family that he feels conflicted about me, the girl he thinks stole his way home. Our mother’s curse made flesh and blood. He’s more generous and selfless than I will ever be.
And it almost got him shot out of the sky today.
My heart breaks a little, but I can’t let him come back here while Elvar’s on the throne. I can’t let him risk his life again out of some idea of loyalty to me. “You’ll fight me if you have to, Bear, because Alexi needs you. Now you need to leave. You can’t be here.”
He frowns. “Don’t you want to know me?”
“Of course I do. But you can’t be on Kali, and it’s where I need to be.” I want him to know I’m on his side, but I don’t dare with Max just a few yards away.
Bear nods like he’s ready to leave. He steps closer, puts one hand up against the invisible wall between us, and says quietly, “One act of brotherly loyalty, then, before I go.”
“What?”
“We won’t give up on Kali. This is our home. We’ll get her back one way or another. There are ways around Titania.”
Of course there are. She’s an unbeatable battleship, but there are means outside of battle. She can’t save a prince from an assassination in the dark. She can’t guard the perimeter of an entire kingdom alone. She can’t take the throne from a king herself. That’s why I’m here. I knew Elvar would have found ways around her if I’d taken her to Alexi.
But what Elvar would have done is not the point. Bear is talking about what they have done.
He winces, staring at me with worried eyes like he’s wrestling with himself. Then, leaning so close to me that we can both hear the crackle of the shield, he whispers, “Don’t drink the wine.”
I freeze. “What’s wrong with the wine?”
“Just don’t drink it.”
“Poison?”
I think of all the people who eat and drink at the palace. Anyone could drink poisoned wine by mistake. Including me. That’s why Bear’s here, after all. Why he really risked his life and rushed to danger as soon as he found out about my arrival. He knows I could tell everyone and ruin their trap, but he came anyway. He came to keep me from becoming one of the poison’s victims.
My throat closes with emotion, but I still manage to summon a protest. “Alexi would never use poison. He’d never smash his honor to pieces like that, and he would never risk harming innocent people. He would never risk poisoning Rickard!”
Bear shakes his head, backing away. The last thing I hear on the wind is “Not Alex.”
And I realize what he’s really telling me but won’t say out loud. Alexi wouldn’t poison anyone.
But our mother would.
I watch my brother vanish into the dark, my ears buzzing with more than just the crackle of the shield.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The king and queen want to know what Bear wanted. I tell them the truth to a point. Max stays quiet. He doesn’t tell them that there was a moment when my brother leaned close to whisper in my ear.
There’s about an hour left before the procession. I wait impatiently until Rickard retires to his suite to dress. As soon as I can be sure he’s alone, I go after him.
There’s a part of my furious, wicked heart that doesn’t want to follow him. That wants me to shut my mouth. After the way they rose up, says the little voice that hides in that part of my heart, they deserve to be torn down. And it doesn’t matter if they die like this.
And maybe that’s true, but I can’t keep quiet. I have to tell Rickard. Maybe if Bear had given me some guarantee that Elvar was a sure target and no one else would be hurt, maybe then I could have kept silent. Maybe then I could have sat back and watched my uncle die. But anyone in the family banquet room could be served the same wine as the king. Any guest could drink a glass of it at a state dinner. Any servant could sneak a sip out of the bottle when they uncork it in the kitchen.
“Damn it all, Kyra,” he says, once I’ve shared Bear’s message.
I fidget while Rickard contemplates our options, tidying the objects on his mantelpiece: a knife and a bowl of lotuses in water and a wooden puppet. The puppet is on strings, a joker with a wide, eerie smile. I turn its head away so that it can’t leer at me anymore.
I can’t bear the silence another moment. “Please tell me I’m wrong.”
“Why would I tell you that?” he asks. “You were one of the brightest students I ever had, Esmae, and you were very rarely wrong.”
My heart sinks. “So you think my mother’s capable of this.”
“Kyra will do anything to protect her—” Rickard stops. He was about to say her children, but that wouldn’t have been true. “She will do whatever it takes to protect Alexi and Bear.”
“But she must know there’s no way to guarantee that only certain people drink the poisoned
wine—”
“Whatever it takes,” Rickard repeats. “Make no mistake, Esmae. Kyra did not cast you out into open space because she was afraid you would destroy her. She had another child, and she was afraid you would destroy him. She will kill anyone and everyone if it means keeping her sons safe. I’m sure she would even accept Elvar’s rule over Kali and try to persuade Alexi to abandon his war if she could only be sure that that would keep him alive. But she’s so certain Elvar and Guinne want your brothers dead, and as long as she feels that way, she will want them to die first.”
“Are they trying to murder my brothers?” I ask.
“Esmae,” he warns.
“Are they?”
“Of course not.” But there’s something in his voice, something that makes me wonder if it’s not me he’s trying to convince.
I let it go, for now. “The poison could be here already. It could be anywhere. What do we do?”
“You can’t do much. You haven’t even been here a day, you don’t yet have any power here. You won’t be able to warn Elvar without Selwyn finding some way to make it look like you’re responsible.”
“I know that.”
“I could speak to the king myself, but I’m not sure that would be the best course of action either. I’m afraid of what it would mean for Kyra. Elvar is so terrified already. If he finds out about the poison, he’ll take steps to ensure your mother can never be a threat to him again.”
My mouth is dry. “I know that, too.”
Rickard scratches his jaw, absently studying the tapestry on the wall across the room. That’s how he thinks. At last, he says, “Tell Max. Ask him to find the poisoned wine. He’s the only one with the authority to do so without consulting the king or queen.”
“How is telling Max any different from telling Elvar?”
“Max will do whatever it takes to make sure no one harms his father, but he won’t hurt your mother either.” Rickard smiles faintly. “You don’t trust him, which is understandable, but you can trust me. Max won’t hurt her. And he can be persuaded to keep this quiet.”
“Can you do the persuading?”
Rickard gives me a severe look. “I am not the one who wants the favor.”
So now I have to trust my enemy to protect the mother who literally threw me out of her home. It’s a moment of bitter irony.
Max is in his suite, surrounded by paperwork. His rooms are cream and brown, simpler than mine, as if he’s stripped back a lot of the luxury, and there’s not much else other than books, a desk, and two sofas in the outer room. Even his curtains have been removed, and a combination of real and false sunlight blazes in.
He’s surprised to see me. “Are you okay?”
I summon my nerve, bobbing on the tips of my toes as if I might take wing and fly away if I wish hard enough. “Do you need a favor?”
“I’m sorry?”
“A favor. Do you need one?”
He frowns. I look away so he doesn’t see how much I hate doing this. There’s an awkwardly shaped paper hound on one of his bookshelves. Is it the one I left in the bowl at the altar? Why would Max have that?
“Why are you asking about favors?” Max wants to know, drawing my attention back.
“Because I need a favor in return.”
“Esmae, there’s no need to give me—”
“I think my mother is going to try to poison your father,” I say in a rush. “I don’t know when, I don’t know how. I don’t even know for certain if he’s the one she wants to poison. I just know there will be poison in the wine.”
“In the wine? Do you know which bottle? Which kind?”
“No.”
“Everyone in the palace drinks the wine. Anyone could drink the poison by mistake.”
“I know. Rickard told me to tell you because you can make sure no one gets hurt. So I’m telling you.” I finish the rest quickly before I lose my courage. “The favor I want to ask of you is that you don’t hurt my mother.”
Max rocks back on his heels, but his eyes never leave mine. “How do you know about this?”
“Bear. He told me not to drink the wine.”
Max nods. “I’ll do what I can about the poison.”
“And my mother?”
“She’s safe.”
“Thank you.”
He nods again but says nothing more. He’s probably trying to figure out how to keep his father alive.
Tentatively, I say, “You haven’t told me what you want in return.”
“You may have just saved my father’s life. I’m in no position to ask anything of you.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
He grimaces. “Do we really have to do this? Count favors to make sure we’re always even?” I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet. He sighs. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I want from you, Esmae.”
The words tumble out before I can stop them: “You could ask me for Titania.”
He laughs then. “I have a feeling I know how that would go, so I’ll save us both the trouble.”
I smile back, reluctantly, and turn to go.
“Wait.” He pauses, scraping a hand through his hair like he’s unsure. “When I was seven years old, I was playing in the conservatory when Kyra came in. I was supposed to be in a lesson, and I didn’t want anyone to catch me, so I hid. She knelt on the floor and she called for Amba, but Amba didn’t answer. Kyra cried. I remember because I’d never seen her cry before. I’d never seen her be anything other than hard as nails. When she left, I crept out of my hiding place and saw that she’d left something behind in the offering bowl. It was a pair of socks. Tiny socks.”
“You think they were mine,” I say softly.
“I do now, yes.”
I swallow. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Just so you know that she cares. Somewhere in there, under her love for your brothers and her fear of you, she cares.”
My hand clenches so hard on the handle of the door that my knuckles go white. “For all she knows, I could drink the poison she’s sent to kill your father. So no, I don’t think she cares all that much.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The procession goes well, better than even Elvar dared hope, or so I assume from the look of joy on his face.
People have flooded the streets to watch us. Elvar and I are in a chariot. We’ve both had to wear our armored vests and vambraces in case someone lashes out, but no one seems angry. They chant my name, beaming. They throw paper ships shaped like Titania into the air. And I, who grew up in obscurity, find it enormously uncomfortable to be celebrated.
I smile and wave anyway. I am as responsible for these people as any other Rey, and they deserve my courtesy no matter how I feel about standing at my uncle’s side.
Elvar touches my shoulder. “Look.”
He can’t see whatever it is himself, but his face is bright with real pleasure. I follow the line of his pointing finger to a statue. It’s a man carved out of smooth, pale stone. He has a crown on his head, a sword by his side, and a shield across his other arm. He’s on a stone plinth, and he looks like he’s guarding the city.
“Cassel,” says Elvar. “Your father. He was a good king. He always wanted what was best for Kali.” Elvar’s smile grows. “It seems only yesterday that we were boys, brash and brave.”
I turn away from my father’s face and look into Elvar’s. There’s no mistaking the expression there.
“You loved my father very much,” I say, shocked.
“Of course. He was my dearest friend.”
“But he took your throne!”
“Not at all,” says Elvar. “He had about as much choice as I did. Our mother and her war council decided he would be better suited to the throne than I, and that was that. He tried to refuse, but they persuaded him to put Kali’s needs first.”
I’m too stunned by his steadfast loyalty and affection to reply immediately. I always believed his bitterness at what his mother did to him had twisted h
is feelings for my father into something black and sinister, but I was wrong. There was love and warmth in my uncle yesterday, when he touched my face and almost wept because I have my father’s nose, and there’s love and warmth in him now.
“Maybe you could tell me stories about him,” I hear myself say.
Elvar’s expression softens. “I’d like that very much.”
At the end of the procession, back at the palace, a group of elders and generals is waiting for us. Everyone is thrilled with the results of our trip, and I hear Elvar speaking excitedly to some of the elders. I want to slip away, unnoticed, but that’s easier said than done. I’ve barely taken two steps in the direction of the door when a bony hand wraps itself around my elbow.
“Ez-may,” says the old queen, whisking me away from the door, but also away from the other elders, “Come and talk to an old crone for a moment or two.”
This is quite frankly the last thing I want to do given my great-grandmother’s fondness for thorny, scorching truths, but it wasn’t a request, and I’m not inclined to thwart her at the moment. I’d rather have her as an ally than an enemy.
“I’ve just had a chat with Rickard,” she says, and I tense, “And it left me with the impression that you have no desire to see your brothers killed in a war.”
“Of course not.”
“Excellent,” she says and pats my hand. At least, I think it’s supposed to be a pat, but it feels more like claws digging into my skin. “Then you’ll be of great help to me.”
I stare at her. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I have no wish to see my grandson and great-grandsons kill each other, and who knows how many others, in a futile war.”
“I gathered that much, Grandmother. The part I don’t understand is how I can help you avoid that.”
She steers me farther away from the others. “What I need, my dear, is a vote I can rely on. And your arrival couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“What kind of vote?”
“A vote on the war council.”
My bewilderment grows. “How can I vote on the war council? I’m not on it.”
“You could be.”