Page 39

The next morning, is exhausted. After her run-in with Violie, she got little sleep, tossing and turning in her bed while she replayed the conversations with her and with Leopold in her mind. She’s even more exhausted thinking about speaking to them again today, knowing that they’ll come prepared to chip away more of her mother’s words, turning them into lies.

When she makes her way downstairs, to the dining hall, it’s to find the rest of their party already awake, bundled up in wool and furs. Even Gideon and Reid are there, wearing cloaks several sizes too big for them—likely borrowed from Bairre, Rufus, or Haimish.

“Are you going ice-skating too, ?” Gideon asks when he sees her.

gives a snort and crosses to the sideboard to pour herself a steaming cup of coffee. “I don’t ice-skate,” she tells him flatly.

“Come on, ,” Cliona says, shaking her head. “You’ll have such fun.”

Haimish snorts and Cliona elbows him. When Cliona notices ’s raised eyebrows, she shrugs.

“You should come,” she says, firmer this time. “We all deserve a bit of rest and relaxation, don’t we? After yesterday, you certainly deserve it.”

opens her mouth to argue but quickly closes it. Ice-skating sounds like it wouldn’t be much fun for anyone over the age of ten, but if she stays behind, that will only mean another conversation with Violie and Leopold, and ice-skating is certainly more fun than that. Her eyes drift to Bairre where he sits near the window, watching her warily. She left him last night while he was asleep, and she’s sure she owes him a conversation as well. Will that be more or less painful than dealing with Violie and Leopold?

“Fine,” she says, taking a long sip of her coffee and ignoring the scald of it on her tongue. “I suppose ice-skating it is.”

Half an hour later, has changed into a warmer gown with thick stockings underneath and a heavy fur cape draped over her shoulders, but it isn’t enough to prevent the bite of the frigid air as she and the others step outside. Bairre leads their party, Gideon and Reid keeping close to him, while lets herself fall toward the back of the group.

“I can’t believe you’ve never ice-skated before, ,” Cliona says from beside her, linking her arm through ’s, which finds herself grateful for because she is unused to traipsing through snow this deep.

“I’ve never wrestled a bear, either, but that’s another thing I never saw a point in,” grumbles. Strapping blades onto her boots to glide over ice that may or may not crack beneath her weight isn’t ’s idea of a good time, but if everyone else is doing it she doesn’t want to appear cowardly.

“You’re going to fall so much,” Cliona says cheerfully. “Everyone does when they first try, so you mustn’t get discouraged, and we brought a vial of stardust in case you truly hurt yourself. It will be funny to watch, though.”

“I exist solely for your amusement,” retorts.

Already, the winter chill is working its way into her bones and making her grumpy—a fact that Cliona doesn’t seem at all bothered by. Instead she laughs.

“Our friend has been lying low since his show of heroics yesterday,” Cliona comments, the words idle, but isn’t fooled. She shrugs.

“I’m sure he’s quite tired after all of that, and I can’t quite blame him for wanting to stay safe and warm indoors after nearly dying.”

“Hmmm,” Cliona says, the sound noncommittal. “I have a theory,” she announces.

“A theory?” asks, her gaze going to the back of Bairre’s head, his chestnut curls hidden by the fur cap he wears pulled down over his ears. Disappointment makes her stomach sink. How quickly did he run and tattle to Cliona about Leopold’s identity? She shouldn’t feel betrayed—if anything, it should come as a relief; after all, Bairre has his loyalties, and has hers.

Except is no longer sure where her loyalties lie.

“I think he is in league with Queen Eugenia after all,” Cliona says, jerking out of her thoughts. “Maybe he’s an exiled Temarinian nobleman or something like that—you can see something noble in his bearing, can’t you? She must have sent him because she didn’t trust us.”

It’s more or less the same story spun a few days before, but she’s too relieved to be annoyed about that. Bairre didn’t tell Cliona.

“Maybe,” echoes.

—

told Cliona that she’d seen lakes before and there couldn’t be anything different about Lake Olveen—after all, what is a lake but a large body of still water? It was difficult to imagine there was much variety in the phenomenon.

But as they approach the shore, realizes she was wrong. Well, not wrong, perhaps. Lake Olveen is indeed much like any other lake: more or less round, more or less large, and, she imagines, beneath the layer of ice more or less placid. There is nothing remarkable about the lake itself. What surrounds the lake, however, is enough to take ’s breath away.

Great snow-covered mountains rise up from the horizon on the lake’s north side, the bright morning sunlight making them look like they’re covered in a thick layer of stardust. Pine trees taller than has ever seen cluster on the lake’s east coast, dusted in the same glittering snow. A meadow sits to the west, and though it is at quite a distance from where stands, she can make out clusters of red on the bushes there—berries.

And on the lake itself, a crowd of gathered townsfolk from young children to adults glide along the surface, stumbling and laughing and barely seeming to notice the cold at all.

It isn’t anything like the lakes she’s seen in Bessemia, thinks, taking in the scenery along with a deep breath of crisp mountain air.

“Come on,” Bairre says, waiting for her to catch up to him. “I’ll help you with your skates.”

glances around for Cliona, but she’s already abandoned her, throwing a snowball at the back of Haimish’s head and laughing when he lunges after her, giving chase and laughing as well.

follows Bairre to a large flat stone on the edge of the lake and sits down on it while he digs into the knapsack he carries, drawing out two contraptions that look to like weapons, if she didn’t know better.

Wordlessly, he sits down beside her and she turns toward him, lifting one booted foot into his lap. His hand reaches around her ankle to turn her foot so that he can attach the blade to the bottom of her shoe, tightening one strap around the ball of her foot, then the second around her heel, and wrapping it around her ankle.

It shouldn’t feel intimate—not after she spent the night in his bed, going to sleep and waking up with his arms around her, but still feels herself blush.

“You didn’t tell Cliona,” she blurts out. “About Leopold, I mean.”

Bairre finishes the first skate and moves on to the next, glancing up at her with a furrowed brow. “No,” he says slowly. “I didn’t tell Cliona, or anyone else for that matter.”

doesn’t answer right away, and they fall into silence as he finishes tying her second lace.

“Why not? I’m sure the information would be of use to the rebellion.”

He shrugs. “I don’t believe it’s any of their business. He’s a Temarinian king in hiding, who saved his brothers. That has nothing to do with the rebellion.”

“They might disagree,” she says.

“They’re entitled to,” he says. “But I made my decision, and keeping your confidence was more important than what essentially amounts to gossip.”

doesn’t know what to say to that, so she stays quiet and lets him help her to her feet, wobbly as she finds her balance on the skates. As he guides her toward the edge of the lake, she has to grip his arm tightly to keep from toppling over.

“Did you come out here often with Cillian?” she asks, hoping to change the subject.

He shakes his head. “No, we were mostly here in the summer, though there was once or twice when we traveled up in late fall or early spring, before the ice melted. There are other lakes closer to Eldevale we would skate on, though. We’d mostly race.”

“And who won?” she asks.

“I did, usually,” Bairre admits. “Though sometimes I let him win.”

“I did the same with Sophie,” says after a moment, memories filtering through her mind. “Not always with racing, but other things—with lessons and things like that.” She doesn’t elaborate on things like that and is sure that wherever his mind takes him, it’s a far cry from sparring or shooting or any number of the things their mother pitted them against one another in, to make them stronger.

“Archery?” Bairre asks.

scoffs. “I’d never let her win at archery,” she says. “Besides, Sophie had little interest in it. She preferred to spend her time in the kitchens, persuading the cook to teach her how to bake.”

Bairre guides her onto the ice and she grips his arm tighter, her skates slipping and sliding beneath her, though she manages to stay upright, barely. When she glances up at him, embarrassed, he’s just managing to hold back a laugh, though he keeps a steady grip on her, helping her balance.

“I feel as though I talk about her constantly,” she says, shaking her head.

“You don’t,” he says. “And when you do talk about her,it’s as part of a unit with you and Beatriz.”

“Oh,” she says, wondering if that’s true. “Well, I suppose that is the danger of being triplets. People tend to see us as a unit, and it can be easy to do that yourself. Sophie was very different from me, though, and from Beatriz. I’m sure you’d have liked her.”

Bairre doesn’t answer for a second. He releases her arm and takes hold of her hands instead, skating backward to put as much distance between them as he can while still holding her hands.

“Now slowly—slowly—come toward me,” he tells her.

Part of rebels at the tone he’s taking—she is a perfectly capable girl. She can pick locks and fend off assassins and carry out plots to overthrow kings. She is more than capable of mastering a sport favored by children.

But as soon as she tries to move, her skates slip out from beneath her and she realizes her folly, falling toward him and grabbing his shoulders, tumbling them both onto the hard, cold ice, Bairre flat on his back and sprawled on top of him.

“Oof,” Bairre says, his arms going around her waist to steady her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says, struggling to get off him, but when she tries to stand up, her skates fail to find purchase and she falls on top of him again. “Oh no,” she groans.

Bairre says nothing, but his whole body is shaking, his face buried in her shoulder.

“Bairre?” she asks, alarmed. She pulls back as far as she dares, worried she’s hurting him, but when she can see his face clearly she realizes he’s laughing at her.

“Some help you are,” she says, shoving his shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, still laughing, but he manages to grip her elbows and lift her off him, helping them both get back to their feet. “I never thought I’d see the day you failed at anything,” he admits.

shoots him a glare, though she’s still clinging to his arm so tightly she’s sure she’ll leave bruises. She knows if she loosens her grip, she’ll fall again. “I haven’t failed,” she says. “Just you wait, by the end of the day, I’ll be a better skater than you are.”

Bairre laughs. “You know, I don’t doubt that.”

—

As the day drags on, does manage to skate on her own, arms thrown wide for balance, though that is the extent of her skating skills. Even Gideon and Reid are, quite literally, skating circles around her. It’s frustrating to see the others whirl by her, many executing twirls and jumps while she just barely manages to stay upright, feeling like a baby deer taking its first steps.

But despite that frustration, she is enjoying herself. After a few hours of skating, she doesn’t even notice the cold anymore, especially after a village woman brings out a jug of hot cocoa for all of the skaters to partake in.

tries her first sip and decides there are a great number of miseries she would suffer for hot cocoa, cold weather the least among them.

It’s only when she notices that the sun is close to setting that she realizes almost an entire day has gone by without her thinking about her mother or her sisters or all of the things she’s meant to be doing. Nothing she’s done today has furthered her mother’s plots at all, and isn’t sure she’s ever gone this long with that being the case. All she has done for the last few hours is enjoy herself. What wasted time.

But it doesn’t feel wasted.

is having so much fun, she almost doesn’t notice Cliona slipping away, toward the edge of the woods where they meet the lake, but when she does, her eyes narrow. Where could she possibly be going? And not even Haimish follows her, when he’s practically been her shadow since they left Eldevale. What’s more, as Cliona slips away, Haimish appears to lose his balance on his skates, knocking over Bairre and Rufus in the process and thoroughly distracting everyone. Everyone except .

Mind made up, makes her way toward the edge of the forest, not as quick as she might be on foot, but quick enough.

“!” Haimish calls behind her, and in seconds, he’s at her side. “Where are you hurrying off to?” he asks, and to anyone else, he might sound casual.

She cuts him a sideways look. “It’s ungentlemanly to ask a lady why she’s heading to the cover of woods, but suffice to say I’m dealing with a delicate personal situation. Kindly do us both a favor and leave it at that.”

“The woods are dangerous,” he says. “Surely you can hold it until we return to the castle.”

“Are they?” she asks, glancing at him with raised eyebrows. “Well, I saw Cliona go this way—I’m sure with the same goal in mind. We should gather the others to find her, should she find herself in danger. Don’t you think?”

Haimish glares at her, but he stops skating, allowing her to reach the edge of the lake on her own. She stumbles onto the ground, but she’s steadier here than she was on the ice despite the blades still attached to her feet. She makes her way deeper into the woods, stopping short when she hears voices. Two distinctly familiar voices.

“I don’t take orders from you,” Cliona says, steel in her voice. Even though can’t see the other girl, she can imagine her expression—chin raised in defiance, brown eyes bright with irritation, and a haughty lift to her brow.

“You take them from your father,” the second voice says, and nearly loses her already precarious balance. Aurelia.

“My father would never order that,” Cliona says, but even though can’t see her face, she hears the doubt in Cliona’s voice. “Gideon and Reid are children, and they’ve done nothing wrong.”

feels as if a bucket of snow has been poured over her head.

“You’re the one acting like a child, and you know perfectly well that if your father were here, he’d say the same,” Aurelia says coolly. “There’s a reason you had to beg your father to let you be involved with rebellion matters. Are you really so keen to prove him right?”

Cliona doesn’t speak for a moment. “Perhaps if I understood why,” she says.

Aurelia laughs, the sound harsh. “The same reason we do anything, Cliona. For Friv. You’ve come too far to suddenly be squeamish. I’ll be waiting tomorrow at midnight by the old clock tower. That should give you plenty of time to work out how to get them there.”

There are footsteps—belonging to Aurelia, suspects, but Cliona’s voice stops them short.

“And after I bring them to you?” Cliona asks. “What will happen to them?”

Aurelia lets out a long, beleaguered sigh. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Cliona. Just follow your orders.”

—

makes it back to the lake before Cliona, but since Haimish knew exactly what was up to in following her, isn’t surprised when Cliona falls into step beside her as they walk back to the castle, the sun beginning to set over the forest.

“What you heard,” Cliona begins without preamble, her voice curt. “It wasn’t what it sounded like.”

laughs. She can’t help it. Cliona has never been a good liar, but she doesn’t even bother trying to sound like she’s telling the truth.

“Nothing about it is funny,” Cliona snaps.

“Oh, I know that,” manages to say through her laughter. But part of it is funny, she thinks. Here Cliona is, under similar orders to her own, and every bit as conflicted about them. She manages to smother her laughter and fixes the other girl with a frank look. “Are you going to do it?” she asks.

Cliona opens her mouth, and is sure whatever she is going to say will be a lie, but she closes it just as quickly. “I don’t have a choice,” she says. “He’s my father. If he says it’s what’s best for the rebellion, it is. And she won’t…she has nothing to gain by hurting them. She just wants to remove them from the game board before they cause…complications.”

Cliona doesn’t believe that, no more than believed that her mother was ordering her to kill Gideon and Reid to protect their family. She wanted to believe it. Desperately, in fact, but she’s always known the truth. Just as she’s always known that she couldn’t go through with it. Even if it’s taken her until now, until she’s seen Cliona just as conflicted, for her to admit it to herself.

She sighs. “I have an idea,” she says slowly. “But I need to know I can trust you. And I need you to trust me in turn.”

Cliona looks at her for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. “If we don’t trust each other by now, , I don’t know how we ever can.”

doesn’t speak for a moment. “Tell me the truth about Aurelia,” she says. “And I’ll tell you the truth about Levi.”