“Hilda,” I murmured. “Her name was Hilda.”
“Why would you remember her name?” He looked down his narrow nose at me. “That is exactly the kind of thing that makes people wary of you. Your sympathies are suspect. Be warned, it’s only a matter of time before I run out of Hildas to distract them with.” A smile crept across his face. He’d convicted a woman who was almost certainly innocent, and he wanted me to be thankful that he’d done it, and would do it again. I gripped the stem of my goblet so tight, my fingernails bit into my skin. Hilda would haunt her daughter-in-law, but I shared the blame in her death.
“Lisette arrived today and should be along shortly,” Toris said, cheerily changing the subject. Quietly, so Kellan couldn’t hear, he said, “She has been so very anxious to see Lieutenant Greythorne again. She has a particular fondness for him, I’m told.”
It was a special talent he had, to send a needle straight into my heart through the tiniest flaw in my armor. It wasn’t that Lisette cared for Kellan that way—I sincerely doubted she did—but that Toris knew I did. I took a breath. Well, I now knew a few of the chinks in his armor, too.
“I thought that maybe, now that you’re letting Achlevan ships into your port, she might set her sights on a nice, burly Achlevan sailor. You’d make a fine grandfather to a whole brood of sturdy Achlevan pups.”
“Aren’t you a wonder?” he asked, eyes narrowing into half-moons while the smile remained frozen on his face. “Not afraid of anything, are you?”
I’m afraid of marrying the sickly prince of Achleva. I’m afraid of never seeing my mother or brother again. I’m afraid of the Tribunal. I’m afraid that Kellan protects me only out of duty. I’m afraid of the ghosts that lie around every corner. I’m afraid that someday soon I’ll be joining them in the hereafter. I took another drink. “Not anything.”
He brushed his suit coat and leaned back. “You should be. The wolves howl, Aurelia, and there may come a time when I will no longer be able to hold them back.”
An oily little smile played on his lips, making it clear that he was looking forward to it.
5
I stared at him, but his malicious smile had already been smoothed away. Toris stood and straightened his coat. “Looks like my daughter has just arrived. Good evening, Princess.”
Lisette de Lena was at the top of the staircase, decked in a crimson gown that set off the rosy glow of her cheeks. Her hair gleamed gold in the lamplight. When we were children, people used to remark how alike we looked, though I always knew such comments were more for my benefit than for hers. If a painting of Lisette was left out in the elements for a few weeks, it might fade into something that looked a bit like me.
We were best friends, once.
She paused at my brother’s chair to furtively slip him a piece of chocolate, rewarding his eager smile with a stealthy wink before moving in my direction.
“Your Highness.” She addressed me coolly as she approached. “And Lieutenant Greythorne,” she added, holding out a gloved hand, “always a pleasure.”
Kellan gave a quick bow. “My lady.” I gave a slight tip of my head. It was all the politeness I could muster.
A twitch of her lip was the only slip in her composure. “Well, good to see you both,” she said sweetly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must go say hello to Duke Northam. His poor, dear wife, Agnes, just lost her father, and I need to find out if she received the flowers I sent.”
I’d already stopped listening. Simon had entered and was being seated in a place of honor on the other side of my mother, beside my brother.
Had I made a mistake, letting Toris know I was aware of his dealings with Achleva? The wolves howl, Aurelia, Toris had said. And there may come a time when I will no longer be able to hold them back.
Who were the wolves? The Tribunal? The townsfolk who thought I was a witch? The ones who hated me simply because they didn’t want our country to be united with Achleva? Enemies were all around me, living and dead. I didn’t want to die—I still had too much to do. An idea began to form in the back of my mind, a sort of contingency plan should things take a turn for the worse.
“Excuse me, Princess, your glass—”
A young man in servant’s livery was standing over me with a jug of wine. I jumped at the sound of his voice, knocking my goblet right out of his hands. Red liquid splashed across my bodice and into my lap.
“So sorry, my lady,” the young man mumbled, trying to dab at the spreading stain with his cloth.
“No, no, don’t worry,” I said, shoving his cloth back into his hands as I rose. “I’ll just . . . I’ll just . . .”
People were staring at me now. Kellan, my mother, Conrad. And from the other side of the hall, Toris.
“Princess,” Kellan said, taking a step closer. “Do you need assistance?”
Mother had risen, and she rushed over, taking me by the arm. “If this is acting normal, it needs improvement,” she said in a harsh whisper.
“This was the work of a clumsy serving boy,” I said coldly and quietly, “not some plot I hatched to get out of dinner.”
“Go change your clothes and come right back,” Mother ordered. “You’re making quite a spectacle of yourself.”
Kellan came up behind me. “Would you like me to escort you—”
“No,” I snapped. Then, with my chin up, I marched across the banquet hall and out the other side in my red-stained green satin. Even the gentleman-ghost of the stairs dared not cross me, for he retreated into the shadows as I passed.
Alone in the hall, I made a rash decision. If I wanted to take my well-being into my own hands, this might be the only chance I’d get. So instead of turning toward my room, I went the other way and followed the darkened corridor until I came to the large oaken door of Onal’s stillroom. I took a pin from my hair and jammed it into the lock until it clicked and the door gave way easily.
It had been years since I’d been inside this room, concocting healings and potions under Onal’s watchful eye so that my father and I could deliver them to the poorest corners of the city. “We do not rule,” he’d say. “We serve. Renaltans do not swear fealty to us; we swear it to them.” It wasn’t just words, either; that’s how he treated them, and they loved him for it. Somehow he’d get the sickest, the hungriest, the most destitute among them to laugh at his jokes, to tell us their stories, to let us sit at their tables. He was teaching me to love them, but he was trying to show them they could love me, too. The kingdom was supposed to pass from father to son, but as far as he knew, I might be his only child, and it would fall to me and my Achlevan husband to rule both kingdoms together.
Asking Renalt to accept an Achlevan king . . . to live under a joint Renalt-Achlevan banner . . . Father knew that such a feat could be accomplished only if I had earned the people’s respect and loyalty.
I thought, for a long time, that I had.
Nothing in Onal’s stillroom had changed since then, really. The chamber was lined on every side with shelves of many-colored bottles and jars, all herbal tonics and remedies distilled by Onal’s own hand. The little rhymes I’d created to help me remember the names and uses of each herb were running through my head. Cocklebur is the cure for winter colds and shivers. Bluebell stops the swell of headaches, fits and fevers . . .