Elvar’s face is very pale, but his forehead is creased as if he’s actually considering the idea. “Esmae,” he says softly, “how can this possibly be the victory I was promised?”
I get up and cross the room, around the table, crouching down in front of his chair and holding his hands very tightly. “You were asked to trust me, Uncle, even when you fear I’m going astray,” I remind him quietly. “Trust me now. If you want to keep your crown, I believe this is the best way to make sure that happens.”
“How can I share the crown with him? How can I allow the world think I’m weak?”
“They’ll think you’re strong,” I say. “They’ll cheer you for your generosity. Rickard once told me it takes more strength and courage to stop a war than it does to start one.”
“He told me that, too,” Elvar says. “When I was a boy. Do you truly believe this is the best way forward?”
“I don’t know everything,” I reply. I’m a pawn who became a queen, but queens and princesses and kings and knights are human, too. And more than capable of making terrible mistakes. “I could be wrong, but I do believe this is the best course.”
“Then I will trust you,” he says, the words coming out on a shaky breath. I know what he’s thinking. That there’s a trick here he hasn’t yet seen, a twist of fate that will get him what he wants. He’s sure this path is the one that will lead him to that future of shattered armies and a broken Alexi. He will agree to share the crown now because he believes that somewhere down the line he will not have to share the crown anymore.
That is a problem for another day.
I am not crafting a trick. There is no trap. I wanted and will always want Alexi to have his crown, but my idea of justice isn’t what it was. Two rightful heirs had their futures stolen from them. Can’t we put that right for both of them? Is that really such a naïve and impossible desire? There are people I love on both sides of this battleground and the world is grayer than it used to be. I can settle for a shared crown. A crown is less important than my mother and brothers getting their home back.
Lord Selwyn is beside himself. “This is a farce. You cannot all seriously be considering this madness!”
“I am willing to consider it,” says Elvar, and Selwyn blanches. He bows deferentially, teeth clenched, and I can feel his hatred.
And I’m glad. I want him to be enraged. When you approach your enemy in Warlords, you have to make sure there’s at least one move he can make at all times. Leave him nowhere to go, and the game ends in a stalemate. Give him only one move, however, and you can nudge him into your trap. You can put him in a Warlord lock and win.
I’ve given Lord Selwyn exactly one move. I can’t force him to take his turn. I can only hope he does.
The war council agrees to nail down the terms of this proposal so that we can take it to Alexi. Perhaps sensing my urgency, even if he doesn’t understand the reason for it, Rickard promises that the proposal will be ready in two days.
As advisers leave the room, he approaches me. “Well,” he says. His lips twitch like he can’t quite quash his smile. “Well.”
For just one moment, I feel like the hopeful, wide-eyed child I used to be. “What do you think?”
“I think,” he says, before the smile finally breaks across his face. “I think I’m very proud of you today, Esmae.”
I’ve waited so long to hear those words.
The room empties until it’s just Max and I left. I face him. “You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn’t have planned it behind your back. I’m sorry.”
“I assume you planned it behind my back because you didn’t want me to fight you. And you’re right. I would have raised hell. Just not for the reason you expected. It’s a brilliant way around the problem, Esmae. I don’t know if it can work, but it’s the fairest and the kindest solution anyone has offered. I would have jumped at it a few weeks ago.”
“So why aren’t you jumping at it now? Are you worried about what your uncle will do to me now that I’ve made him angry? You don’t have to worry about him. You know I can handle whatever Lord Selwyn throws my way.”
Max shakes his head, all the anger gone. He just looks sad. “You don’t see, do you?”
“See what?”
“I don’t know how to say it,” he says. “I don’t know how to be the one to break your heart. I’m sorry. I can’t.”
He walks away and I’m left behind, trying in vain to understand.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Lord Selwyn will move quickly.
It’s not entirely unexpected, then, when he offers to serve drinks at dinner and spends a little more time than necessary with my glass.
It’s not entirely unexpected when he overrides the passcode to my suite and slips inside a few hours later.
The knob turns almost soundlessly, but it would have woken me if I’d been asleep. He looks around, making sure I’m alone, checking the time on the tech screen by the door. The lamps are on, but they’re dim. He crosses the room to my bed. I’m mostly buried in blankets, but he can see my hair across the pillow and the shape of me underneath, so he knows where to aim.
He has rope in his hands. He ties it to the curtain rail, constructing a clumsy noose. He picks up a spare pillow. Hesitates. He doesn’t look happy. I didn’t expect that, this last flicker of mercy.
And then he presses the pillow over my face.
It’s not really my face, of course.
I open my wardrobe door and step out into my room. Selwyn’s face goes deathly white. It’s hugely satisfying.
“It’s a dummy,” I say and walk forward to pull back my blankets, revealing the wig and the synthetic, humanoid shape underneath. “The Hundred and One use them when they train.”
Lord Selwyn opens his mouth and a choked sound comes out. “It was a mistake.”
“Yes, it was.” He’s a reptile without teeth now. He wouldn’t have come here if he hadn’t been certain I wouldn’t wake. He’s immersed in politics and deceit, but he’s not an especially talented warrior and he knows I’ll win if he tries to attack. “A mistake, but not an accident. You murdered me. Or tried to.” I point to the tech screen on the table by the door. “And I recorded every second of it.”
“The drink—”
“I didn’t even taste it. But I did send a sample to the lab at the university and they should have the results for me tomorrow. Some kind of tonic to make me sleep, I expect? And then you meant to come here, smother me, and hang me from my curtain rail to make it look like I did it to myself? Did you really think anyone would believe that?”
“What do you want?”
“You know, you could have avoided this trap. You could have accepted the end of this war, but a shared crown was never what you wanted, was it? You wanted to control the one and only king. I expected you to be so angry you would feel you had no option but to get rid of me once and for all. You didn’t disappoint.”
“What do you want?” he rasps again.
I’ve struggled with that question. “I planned to present the video and the lab results to the war council tomorrow,” I say. “They wouldn’t have been impressed with the attempted assassination of a royal princess. You would have been tried for treason and possibly executed. At best, you’d have spent the rest of your life in prison.”
Lord Selwyn licks his lips nervously. “You said you planned to do that. You’ve decided otherwise.”
“I’ve decided to let you go.” I wonder if I’ll regret this. “I want you to leave. Tell the king and queen you wish to retire immediately. Do whatever you must to convince them it’s what you truly want. You have three days to retire from the war council and to leave Kali for good. I don’t care where you go, as long as you never try to hurt my brothers again. If any more attempts are made on their lives, I’ll show the war council what you tried to do to me. If you try to communicate any kind of advice to Elvar from wherever you are, I’ll show the war council what you did. Are
we understood?”
He spits the words out like they’re poison. “Yes. I’ll go.”
“Oh,” I add, “and if I die before you do, don’t come back. I’ll make sure that you’re exposed even if I’m not here to see it.”
“That isn’t an if, Princess,” Lord Selwyn says softly. “If you continue to collect enemies at this rate, I am entirely certain you will die before I do.”
“Get out.”
He slinks away.
“Very nice,” Amba says from behind me. I swivel around, startled. Her eyes are bright. I think it’s the most impressed I’ve ever seen her. “Tricking him with a false you? Very nice indeed.”
“Did you see it all?” I ask indignantly. “Did you know I wasn’t in the bed? Because if you just stood by and let him smother me—”
“Don’t get worked up, Esmae,” she says. “Of course I knew that wasn’t really you. I know you better than that.”
I give her a somewhat bewildered look. “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’ve been around an awful lot lately.”
“Why wouldn’t I hover?” she asks. “You are on the cusp of a fatal duel, you know.”
I turn away. “There won’t be a duel. Did you not see what happened today? The war is over.”
“The war hasn’t started yet,” she says, and is gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Titania and I talk about the gods’ vision. I will not allow it to come to pass, but I have to take measures just in case. She promises she’ll keep my promises, even if I can’t anymore.
“If you die,” she says, “I’ll travel. The galaxy is a vast place, and I haven’t seen the half of it. I’ll stay away from wars and battles. I’ll visit the gods. I’ll vanish into space and stars.”
“Sometimes I wish I could vanish into space and stars,” I tell her. “Maybe we can both go someday.”
“There are many, many beautiful places to see out there, Esmae,” she says. “There are worse things we could do.”
That night, Rama persuades Max, Sybilla, and me to go down to the fayre by the river. There are pockets of the Hundred and One already there, scattered throughout the crowd. There are ladders propped against rooftops so that people can climb up and enjoy the view. We find a spot on one of the rooftops. Below us, there’s music and puppets and spices on the air. Above, the Scarlet Nebula is especially vivid, the reds and golds sharp against the black of the void.
Kali is currently at 71 percent human capacity, says the ship’s electronic voice. Airflow and water pressure will be increased by 2 percent for the next two hours.
It’s a subtle shift—hardly noticeable—but the air feels crisper, cooler. I breathe it in.
Rama passes a bottle of Kali’s signature gooseberry wine around, then makes a disgusted face at me as if he can’t understand how this is what passes for a drink on this realm. I prop my chin on my knees and look out over Erys. It’s funny how the sight makes my heart twist in pain and with love. I hope I’ve been able to save this kingdom from the destruction of war.
Max’s hand traces circles on my knee. I smile at him, at the others beside us. Titania is safe, Lord Selwyn will leave Kali at the end of the week, and there are people here that I love. And all of that is good. I want to hold the good close.
“Is this what it feels like to be happy?” I ask.
“Yes,” says Max, but he looks more afraid than happy.
I turn back to the view and look at Winter. It’s pale and ghostly. “Did Rickard take the proposal to Alexi?”
“Yes,” Max says quietly.
“Alex hasn’t replied?”
“Not yet.”
Rama nudges me with his elbow. “Hey,” he says, “if the war isn’t stopped after all and I decide to fight in Kali’s armies, can I be wherever you are? It seems wise to hide behind the one with the blueflower jewel in her hair.”
“You’re a horrid creature. And no, you cannot be wherever I am. I’ve already told Max you’re not permitted in Kali’s armies.”
“Max!”
“Don’t Max me,” says Max, “I’m not getting involved in a spat between the two of you.”
“Why do you want to follow me around battlefields anyway?” I ask Rama. “You know combat requires actual movement and energy, don’t you? You can’t just sleep on a palanquin while others tote you around.”
Rama’s tone stays light, but his teeth seem far too tightly clenched. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight, Ez. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get yourself into?”
The rooftop has suddenly gone quiet. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Max and Sybilla have stopped smiling. Don’t look like that, I want to tell them. Don’t be afraid for me. No one can hurt me.
I squeeze Rama’s arm. “I’ll tell you what,” I say. “I’m not letting you follow me onto battlefields, but I promise to take you on a trip into the stars with Titania in a couple of weeks.”
“You can’t promise that,” he says.
“I promise it anyway,” I say, brave and certain and happy, “And you know I always keep my promises.”
Except, of course, being certain doesn’t always last. It can change in the space of a breath.
Alexi sends his response to the proposal: Let’s talk. For our safety, we’ll only meet with Esmae and one other person.
The coordinates are those of the yellow weeping trees of Arcadia. Max decides he’ll go with me. The entire journey there, Titania grumbles about how there’s a serious dearth of sentient ships in the galaxy for her to make friends with. Max, most uncharacteristically, barely pays her any attention. I can feel tension radiating off him. He looks out at the stars, jaw clenched tight like he’s trying to force himself to remain quiet.
When I point this out to him, his only reply is, “This trip is a bad idea.”
“Don’t you want this war to end?”
He stares at me for a minute, then says, “I suppose I just expect the worst.” He tries to crack a smile. “Maybe my parents have rubbed off on me.”
Max has never been to Alexi’s Arcadia before, but he remembers it when it was just a cluster of towns and forests in Winter. “It looks like Kali now,” he says quietly. He ignores the farms on the edges and gazes, instead, at the heart of the city, at the spiky towers of the palace, the snowy forests, the almost fairy-tale look of the streets and rooftops. “He made his perfect city, and he made it look like Erys.”
“It creeps into your bones,” I say. “Kali does, I mean. It creeps in and becomes a part of you.”
“You’d make a good queen,” Max tells me.
That amuses me. “I doubt that. And far too many people would have to die for that to happen anyway.”
“You have a blueflower.” He touches it, tracing the outline in my hair. “You may be the only one of us to survive a war.”
“In which case, I will gladly take the opportunity to prove that I’d make a far better ruler than any of you,” I tease. “I’ll be Queen Esmae the Merciful. Queen Esmae the Just. Queen Esmae the Grand and Glorious. Queen—”
“I will crash into the nearest rock if I have to hear another word of that,” says Titania.
“What would be the point of that?” I ask. “You’re indestructible. Wouldn’t you just bounce off?”
Max grins, but it slips away much too quickly.
Titania lands in her usual spot in the woods. We climb out. Leaves crunch farther ahead, in the direction of the hot spring. Alexi and Bear are already here.
As Max and I approach, it’s obvious immediately that the atmosphere is all wrong. Alexi looks pale and strained. Bear looks miserable.
“Hello, Max,” Alexi says. Max just nods. He’s sensed the strain, too. His shoulders tense.
“You said you wanted to talk,” I say, confused.
“I do,” Alexi replies. “Just not about the proposal you sent.”
I don’t like his tone. “What’s the matter? I know it’s not ideal??
?”
“Not ideal,” he repeats incredulously. “Seriously? What have they done to your mind up there?”
“What—”
“You said you wanted me to win,” he says, quiet and intense. There’s a current of pain in his voice. “Our mother warned me, but I trusted you. I believed you. You said you’d help us. But it turns out you’re just as bad as the rest of them. A shared crown? You want me to forgive them for what they’ve done to me? What they took from me? You want me to share the crown with him?” He points at Max. “With my backstabbing uncle?”
“Alex,” I say softly, “you weren’t wrong to trust me. Of course I’m on your side. Max knows that. I want you home. I just don’t want any of us to pay the price of a war.”
“It’s a price we have to pay for justice,” he says.
I shake my head. “This is about avoiding thousands upon thousands of deaths.”
“I don’t want thousands upon thousands of deaths, Esmae! I will do every single thing in my power to avoid it, but I can’t avoid a war altogether. I won’t. Our lives were taken from us. Our futures were taken. I’m not going to just let that go.”
I look at Max, but there’s not even a hint of surprise on his face. He expected this. He knew all along that Alexi would never agree to my plan.
“Then why are we here?” I demand. “Why did you say you’d meet me? Why did you want me to bring someone with me?”
“So you’d have a witness,” Alexi says. “I have Bear, you have Max.”
“A witness? To what?”
Max swallows. “Don’t do this, Alex. Please.”
Alexi’s cheekbones flush red. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Alex—” Bear tries.
“Don’t what?” I ask.
Alexi looks me in the eye, and in the split second before he speaks, I suddenly understand what he’s about to say.
I challenge you to a duel.
And he does.