Page 14

Tamsyn shook her head. “N-no. I’ve heard of her, of course. There isn’t a bard who doesn’t put her words to song, but I did not know that she was... like me.”

“Your sisters’ fates rest in marriage. They must form alliances. That is their duty but not yours. You will have a choice when it comes to your future.”

“A choice,” she murmured, as though tasting the words on her lips.

I motioned down the long wall of the gallery. “They’re all here. Whipping girls and boys of the past. They went on to live important lives. Like you will. You aren’t... no one. Not now. Not ever. You’ll have a future beyond this, Tamsyn. You’re important... and you always will be.”

Her shoulders squared a little, her chin lifting. She suddenly looked taller as she gazed at the portrait of the woman who was once like her.

After a long moment, she moved along, stopping before another portrait. “And him? Was he a whipping boy, too?”

I nodded. “Yes. They all are here. On this wall.”

She swept a glance down the row of portraits. “Tell me about them, please.”

I’d obliged, going on to tell her everything I knew of them—the long line that preceded her and their prestigious legacy.

I never caught her crying in a corner again. She was different after that.Wewere different. I grew up with all the princesses, but my relationship with Tamsyn was special. Closer. Whenever we were in the same room together, my eyes always found her, followed her, stayed on her.

There weren’t many days like that again, when I had to prop her up. She didn’t need that from me anymore. It was as though a lever had been pulled. She never looked back, never descended to those dark shallows again. Never questioned her role. She went about her life, as did I. Both of us living. Both with our responsibilities.

I didn’t think about her taking whippings. Didn’t think about a flog flaying her back. I knew something of a body being pushed to its limits. Many a night I collapsed into bed aching and sore and near the breaking point from the day’s training. Like me, she was strong. Our bodies would endure.

At twenty-one, she was nearing the end. It was never spoken of, but I knew. I had thought about it often as the years fell away, as we grew older, as she went from awkward to beautiful, as she inched toward that vague end, the day when she would be free.

The princesses were of marriageable age, especially Feena and Sybilia. They’d be gone soon, and when that happened, there would be no more need for a whipping girl. Tamsyn would be allowed to pursue her own life, to create her own legacy, like all those before her. Just like I had promised her.

At least that was supposed to have happened. A heady anticipation regularly filled me at the prospect. She was going to be free. Free to be. Free to choose.

I winced. My mistake. Now I realized she would never have a choice. The king, queen, andmy fatherwould not allow that. They had other plans for her, and they had made a liar out of me.

Never had I conceived of this scenario. I’d told her she would have an illustrious future all those years ago, and I’d meant it. I could not have anticipated them betrothing her to anyone—much less to Dryhten.

It wouldn’t happen. I vowed this. The bastard would not have her.

With this conviction burning through me, I endured the feast in the Great Hall, my body humming with tension, my hands opening and closing at my sides as I observed the carousing nobles. With a dozen warriors from the Borderlands in attendance, my presencewas expected—even if the only thing I wished to do was to leave and find Tamsyn.

It was my duty to remain, to wait until it was over, and everyone knew I, the lord regent’s son, the captain of the guard, never ignored my duty.

So I waited until the Great Hall emptied. Until the last reveler went to bed. Until silence pervaded, thick and viscous as blood pooling and settling into every crack and fissure of the palace’s stone walls.

When I was certain all were finally asleep, I moved quietly, silent as a ghost passing through the tomblike corridors. I had never dared to enter Tamsyn’s bedchamber before. It was highly inappropriate. Highly irregular. But these were desperate times, and there was nothing I would not do to save her. Nothing. Nothing at all. I would sacrifice anything. Even my duty.

Even myself.

5

Tamsyn

WHEN I WAS TEN YEARS OLD, I LEARNED THAT THEREwould be no grand state wedding for me. No multitude of guests. No weeklong festivities. No royal hunts for the wedding party. No lavish feast with all manner of entertainment. No bells tolling throughout the land. No marriage rites to a faraway prince or prominent dignitary for the betterment of the kingdom. A future such as that, the kind that glittered like a prism caught in light, dazzling and full of wonder, was reserved for my sisters, but not for me.

Not that I had devoted a great deal of time to thoughts of the future. Especially not at ten. Not yet. I was a little girl. I didn’t worry about such things. I lived in the moment.

I spent my mornings learning with tutors and our governess. In music lessons. Dance. Art. Comportment. Playing with the fat tabby cat that slept in the kitchen. Riding ponies through the vast gardens. Romping and exploring with my sisters. Sitting transfixed by the fire in the Great Hall as visiting bards regaled us with stories of days gone by: of fire-breathing dragons and spell-casting witches, of beguiling huldras and hideous harpies, of sea creatures and the monstrous Fenrir, the sire of all wolves, who devoured anyone who dared venture into his territory.

I did not let the occasional whipping affect me. That was just a thing that had to be endured, like a dose of bitter medicine or a hairbrush pulling through the tangles in my hair. Unpleasant but thankfully brief. I refused to dwell on those occurrences.

In my youth, the king or queen or governess usually delivered the hard truths, schooling me in my role, training me and overseeing my punishments. The lord chamberlain had yet to become interested in me. That unwelcome attention didn’t happen until my fifteenth summer.