Page 11

CALLYN

When I accepted a position as lady-in-waiting for Princess Sinna Cataleha, the three-year-old daughter to Queen Lia Mara and King Grey, I envisioned days filled with quaint tea parties and reading books by the fire. I imagined lovely gowns and silken dresses for myself and my sister, our hours busied with the care for a perfect child who would have the finest instructors. We’d learn to ride, we’d learn to fight, and we’d be tutored right alongside our charge, elevated from poor bakers on the border of Syhl Shallow to ladies of the court in the Crystal Palace.

I did not expect to be crawling under beds at an hour before dawn, with cobwebs in my half-braided hair.

“Sinna!” I hiss.

A giggle echoes from out in the hallway. I sure hope Nora is out there to catch her.

I know Lord Alek and the Truthbringers might have been a threat if I’d remained in Briarlock, but when I’ve only gotten four hours of sleep, I begin to wonder just how much of a threat.

“Sinna!” I hiss again. I squirm out from under the bed where I was sure she was hiding, and dart into the dim hallway.

I don’t see the princess, but I’ve discovered she has a talent for hiding in the tiniest spaces. I don’t see Nora either. She’s twelve, though, and usually covered in dust and cobwebs just like I am. Maybe she’s under a different bed.

Another giggle echoes from the other end of the hallway, and I sprint in my bare feet. If Sinna makes it down to where the guards are stationed, news of this little adventure will definitely be reported to the queen.

But then I see the princess dash out from behind a tapestry, her curly red hair flying behind her, giggles echoing off the walls.

On the other side of the hallway, my sister jumps out from behind another tapestry. “I’ve got you!” Nora whisper-shouts—in a way that makes me think she might be enjoying this a little too much.

Sinna squeals in delight and changes course, bolting the other way, heading right for the corner that will lead to the guards.

No. No, no, no.

I drive my bare feet into the floor and all but leap , my arms outstretched. My arms close around the princess, who’s giggling like this is the best time ever—while I just want to go back to sleep for another four hours. Nora skids to her knees beside me, ready to block. We all roll to a stop along the velvet carpeting, and I blow a lock of hair out of my mouth.

Princess Sinna lands on top of me, still giggling. She grins, her eyes bright and shining. “Let’s do it again, Cally-cal.”

Cally-cal. She picked that up from my sister, a nickname I’ve had since Nora could barely walk. Sinna calls her Princess Nora, as if they’re both daughters of royalty and I’m tasked with looking after them together.

I’d find it all adorable if it weren’t so early in the morning.

Sinna pokes at the pendant around my neck, which used to be my mother’s. It’s sitting in the hollow of my throat from our scuffle. But then she looks up, over my head. “Oh! Good morning, Da.”

WHAT.

Beside me, Nora chokes on a gasp and scrambles to her feet. “Your Majesty.”

Clouds above, we’ve woken the king. I fight to right myself so I’m not lying in a crumpled heap with half my hair in my face, but I have a forty-pound toddler on my chest. King Grey is probably thinking he should have locked me and Jax in the stone prison after all—or at least me . When I try to lift Sinna off me, she giggles again, squirming like I’m trying to tickle her. She manages to knee me right in the ribs.

Amazing. This is absolutely what I need.

“Sinna.” The king’s voice is quiet, but a tone of command often hides in his words. It makes people pay attention, even his wily daughter. Sinna stops giggling.

His hands appear in my line of vision, and I’m surprised to see the buttoned cuffs of a riding jacket. So he wasn’t asleep after all. Before I can puzzle that out, Sinna reaches for his outstretched hands and he plucks her off me.

I scramble to my feet less gracefully than my sister, then hurry into a curtsy. I know half my hair has escaped its braid, and I don’t even want to consider how red my face must be. My heart is hammering in my chest for a dozen reasons, and I don’t have the courage to meet his eyes. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

Nora scoots to my side and threads her fingers through mine. “Forgive us , Your Majesty. Were we too loud? Did we wake you?”

The king inhales like he wants to respond, but my sister is . . . ?well, my sister , and she keeps prattling.

“We could take Sinna for sweetcakes if you like,” she offers brightly. “Lord Tycho told Callyn that there were sweetcakes in the kitchen every morning. That way, you could return to bed with the queen. Oh! Well. Not to imply that you were in bed with the—”

“ Nora. ” I give her arm a firm yank, and she gives a little yip , but she falls silent.

In front of us, the king is silent, so I chance a look up, but his eyes are very dark, his expression cool and unreadable. Sinna is curled against his shoulder, her tiny fingers fiddling with a buckle on his jacket, but her childish innocence doesn’t steal one ounce of his severity. Actually, it makes him a bit more intimidating. Like he could put her up on his shoulders, draw his sword, and fight a war—all without thinking twice.

I swallow and jerk my eyes back down. “Sorry,” I say. “I know it’s early. We were trying to keep her quiet.”

“You didn’t wake me.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. It’s obvious that he was dressed, and he didn’t come from their bedchambers, so he was clearly attending to . . . something .

In our silence, Princess Sinna keeps fiddling with his buckle and says, “Well, I would very much like some sweetcakes, Da.”

His face softens a bit. Not quite a smile, but almost. “I’m certain you would. But I believe Mama would very much like for you to sleep a bit longer.”

“I can take her back to bed,” I offer, reaching out.

“I’ll do it.”

Oh. I lower my arms. I don’t know if that’s meant to be a dismissal or a rebuke—or if he’s just being a father.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I offer another hasty curtsy. So does Nora, and then we step to the side so he can pass.

Maybe the king senses my sudden uncertainty, because he doesn’t move. “Thank you for looking after her. I know it’s a relief to the queen that you’re here. There have been a lot of rumors coming from the Crystal City, and with everything that’s happened, it’s difficult to know what’s truth and what’s idle gossip.” He pauses. “I’m pleased that Sinna is enjoying herself.”

Sinna brightens. “Oh, I am! Princess Nora was teaching me to plait Cally-cal’s hair before I made them find me. Don’t you like it?”

Nora and I both snap our heads up. “I’m not really a princess,” Nora whispers, as if the king doesn’t know that.

But he’s looking at me, his eyes flicking to my hair—which I’m now remembering is a mess of attempted braids that are half undone and probably full of dust and tangles.

I quickly shove all the loose strands behind my ears. “I told Sinna this would be the latest style at court by the end of the week.”

He smiles as if he’s truly amused. It brightens his whole face, and for the first time, he doesn’t seem quite so fierce and unyielding. Honestly, he should smile more often.

Or maybe not, because as soon as I have the thought, I’m horrified to find myself blushing.

Luckily he’s already looked away to drop a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. “Come along, Sinna. I should get a few hours of sleep myself before the generals expect me on the fields.”

That must mean the king hasn’t been to bed yet, and it’s nearly dawn. I wonder what he’s been occupied with all night. It’s definitely not my place to ask, but considering everything that’s happened in Syhl Shallow these last few weeks, I’m definitely curious.

“Oh, and Princess Nora?” he says, just before turning away.

My sister startles, but I can tell she’s delighted that the king has addressed her directly . She all but quivers with excitement. “Your Majesty?”

“Tycho was right. There are sweetcakes in the kitchen. Right now, they’re probably still hot.”

If it were up to me, I also wouldn’t mind a few more hours of sleep, but my sister was just tempted with hot sweetcakes by the king himself. She’s all but bouncing along beside me as we stride down the still-unfamiliar palace hallways, passing the occasional guard or servant.

“The king is so different from what I expected,” she’s saying, and she’s making absolutely no effort to keep her voice down, like we’re back in our bakery in Briarlock and not in the middle of the Crystal Palace. “I knew Queen Lia Mara would be beautiful, but people always say King Grey is horrible. I thought he would be ugly and old with warts everywhere—”

“Nora! Do you even know how to whisper?”

She lowers her voice. “Well. I thought he would have greasy hair and beady eyes, but he’s really quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” I run a finger over Mother’s pendant. The king is handsome. Quite striking, really, with those dark eyes and dark hair. In a way, it feels like a betrayal to admit it. The rumors in Syhl Shallow always painted him as a terrible man who controlled a horrible magic—magic that killed my father and hundreds of other people when they attacked the castle in an attempt to slaughter the royal family. Like my sister, I spent a long time imagining the king to be ugly and twisted, as if his outward appearance would be the sum of all the stories told about him.

When I first saw him in battle in Briarlock, I was startled to find that the king wasn’t old and ugly at all. He’s tall and carries himself with the bearing of a soldier, and he can’t be more than twenty-five or so. If I’d crossed paths with him on the street, I would have taken him for a doting young father, possibly on leave from the army. If he’d come into the bakery, I would have been blushing at him like a fool.

But I’ve seen the king in blood-spattered armor, with one arrow through his shoulder and another through his thigh. I’ve seen him use magic to burn through his enemies to protect his family.

Just like he once did to my father.

I have to rub at my pendant again. I feel certain I made the right choice in coming here.

But sometimes I’m worried that I made the wrong one.

Nora is peering at me. “Are you still afraid of him, Cally-cal?”

I glance at her in surprise. My sister isn’t usually so direct—or so insightful. But during that battle in the woods, one of the soldiers put his sword right through Nora’s chest. The same magic that killed our father saved my sister’s life. That changed something in both of us.

“A little,” I admit.

But it’s more than a little. It’s so hard to reconcile that someone who’s caused so much fear throughout Syhl Shallow was making me blush and telling my little sister where to find warm sweetcakes. I can’t make it all fit inside my head.

I let go of the pendant, and it hangs heavy over my heart. Lord Alek once told me it was Iishellasan steel. He guessed that it was warded against magic.

But a week ago, when Nora was nearly killed, stars filled my vision. I felt sparks in my chest. Everyone thinks the queen’s magic saved my sister, but . . . ?I wonder if it was mine . I wonder if my mother knew her pendant would somehow give me magic.

That’s too terrifying to think about.

But I remember pressing a knife to my finger, watching blood well up. I remember feeling the stars and sparks again, and seeing the wound close effortlessly.

I need to stop thinking about this.

The palace halls are quiet, the stone floor cold against my bare feet.

Nora huffs at my silence. “Well, I’m not afraid of him anymore. He and the queen have been very kind.”

“Yes, they have.”

“His magic saved my life.”

Also true. “I know.”

She hesitates. “I think Da was wrong, Cal.” She looks at me. “He shouldn’t . . . ?he shouldn’t have been here. He shouldn’t have been part of the Uprising.”

I look over at her in surprise. I wonder what Nora would say if she knew Jax and I were holding notes for Lord Alek and the Truthbringers—notes of treason against the king. We were doing it in exchange for silver to pay the taxes that we owed to save our homes. We didn’t think it would cause any harm . . . ?but it did.

I nod. “You’re right. Da shouldn’t have been here. And we shouldn’t have come with him.”

Voices echo from up ahead, which isn’t too uncommon since we’re nearing the kitchen and the laundries, along with one of the halls that leads out to the stables and the training fields. Usually there’s a good deal of commotion down here as meals are prepared, clothes and linens are laundered, and guards and soldiers come and go. It’s early, but we’ve been hearing the low hum of chatter echoing from the kitchen as the cooks begin preparations for breakfast.

But something about these voices catches my attention. I can’t make out who’s speaking because of the echoes bouncing off the stone walls, but the tone is sharp. A bit more demanding.

I grab Nora’s arm and haul her to a stop.

“Who is it?” she whispers.

“I don’t know.” I’m torn between curiosity keeping me right here and the urge to protect my sister by fleeing back to the royal wing. I wonder if this is related to the reason the king was awake all night.

Then the decision is made for me. At least a dozen people stride around the corner. I notice the royal guards trimmed in the gold and red of Emberfall first, but they’re just ahead of two men who aren’t attired in royal livery at all. They flank a third man, and once my eyes lock on his face, I forget everyone else. He’s a bit windblown and travel worn, but there’s no mistaking the fiery red of his hair, or the near-constant look of disdain in his blue eyes.

Lord Alek.

My heart gives a traitorous skip in my chest as if it’s happy he’s here, and I gasp without meaning to.

The last time I saw him, he was in my bed, whispering promises against my skin. He was convincing me that he needed my help to protect the queen. He wrapped me up in his arms and made me feel like he had followed Lord Tycho to Briarlock for my protection.

It was all a lie. He was only in Briarlock to help the Truthbringers lay a trap for the royal family.

I was such a fool.

The queen warned me that Alek would be escorted back to Syhl Shallow. But I thought he’d be thrown in the dungeon, locked far away from me.

I didn’t expect him to march right in while Nora was dragging me to get sweetcakes.

I’m frozen against the wall as if there’s any possible way he won’t see us.

Maybe he won’t. We’re only wearing sleeping shifts, and we probably look like servants. Lord Alek isn’t the type of man to pay an ounce of attention to someone beneath him. He’s glaring at the queen’s younger sister anyway.

I’ve only met Princess Nolla Verin once, but she might be the fiercest woman I’ve ever met. She goes by Verin to everyone outside the royal family, and she spends much of her time on the training fields with the army. Even though it’s early, she’s trimmed in fine black armor that’s lined in silver, and she’s wearing more weapons than Alek is. I wouldn’t be surprised if they broke out in a fight right here.

They both sound angry enough.

“I do not care what time it is,” Alek is snarling. “I do not care if the king and queen are sleeping. I have been detained long enough. I will not wait one more minute before being released from this charade. You will fetch your sister—”

“You will not order me to fetch anything ,” Verin snaps. “Most definitely not your queen. You were to return to your House, not to report directly to the palace. You will wait until you are summoned—”

“Then send a servant to fetch the king. I’m done waiting.” His head jerks in my direction. “You there. Find the—”

His ice-blue eyes lock on mine, and Alek stops short so suddenly that the guards behind him skid to a halt. For a moment, we’re frozen just like that, staring at each other like we’ve been turned to stone.

And then he breaks the silence. “Callyn,” he says softly, the edge simply gone . There’s so much emotion in his voice that it causes my heart to stumble, because I certainly wasn’t expecting it. The disdain has vanished, too. “You’re here.” His eyes trace my dusty face, then my wildly misbraided hair, then my form. “Are you well?”

My heart gives that traitorous skip again. I inhale to answer, but I’m not even sure what I’m going to say.

I don’t get a chance to find out, because my little sister launches herself away from the wall. Nora is lean and wiry from all the work we did in the barn and the bakery, but she’s also strong. She smacks Alek square across the face at least three times before he gets it together to grab her arm.

“Nora!” he cries.

She switches to punches with her left hand, and when he tries to deflect, she gets him right in the throat. Alek makes a pretty horrific sound and falls back a step.

“You traitor!” she’s yelling. “You tried to kill the queen! We trusted you!”

“Stop this!” He deflects again, and she tries to knee him in the crotch. He barely dodges that one.

“You! Hurt! My! Sister!” She grabs hold of his armor and climbs him like a tree, then digs her fingernails into the shell of his ear and yanks .

Alek yelps and tries to push her away, but she clings more tightly so he’s only hurting himself. “Nora!” he snaps again.

The guards exchange glances, as if they’re unsure whether to intervene when an unarmed child in a sleeping shift is kicking a grown man’s ass.

Nora grabs hold of his hair with her other hand, twisting hard. I know this move well from when we were younger and used to squabble over chores.

“Cally-cal!” she calls. “Help me punch him!”

“I think you’ve got it,” I say.

Alek’s eyes have gone cold, and they lock on mine. “Get her off of me,” he growls. “Or I’ll be forced to do it myself.”

Any emotion I might have felt a moment ago is gone, iced over. I’ve already seen my sister die once, and I’m not keen to see it again.

“Nora,” I say, stepping forward. “Enough.”

But the queen’s sister sighs and lifts a hand, stopping me. “Oh, Alek,” Verin says, her tone exasperated, like she’s done with him. “You can’t handle a little hair pulling?” She steps forward, plucks Nora off him like she’s weightless, then sets her on the ground beside me. “Time to sheathe those claws, little cat.”

Nora gasps, then stares up at her in wonder, her eyes wide.

“Come find me later this week,” Verin says with a wink, “and I’ll show you a few things you’ll find more effective than tugging on his ear.”

Nora’s eyes go even wider. “Y-yes, Your Highness.”

Alek steps up beside Verin, but he doesn’t have eyes for me this time. He’s leaning down, glaring right at my little sister. A few drops of blood run from where Nora has clawed at his face. His hair is a rumpled mess. “Yes,” he says viciously. “Take your lessons. Because the next time you come at me, little cat , I’ll make sure you—”

I punch him right in the face.

He doesn’t see it coming at all , so I have the satisfaction of seeing him stumble back.

“Don’t you threaten my sister,” I say to him.

He spits blood at the ground, then straightens. For an instant, his eyes hold mine, and instead of rage, which I expect, I find something else in his expression. Something I can’t quite figure out.

Much like the tone in his voice when he said, You’re here. Are you well?

But Verin speaks, and the flicker of emotion is gone. “Alek,” she says, “if you insist on remaining here, I will arrange for you to be given a set of quarters where you will be confined until the queen sees fit to visit you. If you bring down the wrath of every Royal House over the matter of a few hours, then Lia Mara will have to handle it.”

He touches a finger to his lip, which is already swelling. “Fine.”

The guards begin to lead him away.

Nora looks up at me. “That was amazing,” she whispers.

Oh yes. Truly amazing. I want to burn myself to ash right here in the hallway.

“Do you think the sweetcakes are still warm?” Nora continues.

I’m glad her priorities are in order.

At least it gives me something else to focus on. I take her hand. “Let’s go see.”

When I turn, Verin is right there in front of me, and my breath catches. “Your Highness.”

She smiles, but there’s a hint of cunning to her expression. It’s hard to believe that she and the queen are sisters. Lia Mara is full of warmth and light, all curves and gentle hands and kind words. I haven’t known her long, but I’m beginning to learn that she’s very levelheaded, approaching every interaction with rational thought. She prioritizes peace for her people.

Verin is smaller, leaner, made of sharper edges. I’ve caught glimpses of her on the training fields, and she looks like she could fight a war before lunch and be ready for an evening ball by supper. When Lia Mara first offered me this position, she said that her sister would teach me to defend myself, but it hasn’t been mentioned since then, and I haven’t wanted to ask. Just like the king reminds me too much of what happened to my father, I often worry that the soldiers and training fields would remind me too much of what happened to my mother.

Now Verin is in front of me, and she throws a fist into her palm, then nods. “You strike well, too,” she says. “When Nora comes to find me, you should join her.”