Castles in Their Bones (Castles in Their Bones #1)

Beatriz

reads Sophronia’s letter so many times she knows it by heart, but the words never quite make sense.

I couldn’t go through with our plan. I know Mama will think me weak for it, but I believe you’ll at least understand. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t worth the cost. I couldn’t do it.

But it seems Mama knows me too well and she’s taken that choice from me. I’m sure by now you’ve received Leopold’s declaration of war. It’s a fake, but that won’t matter. My only hope is if you release Lord Savelle and send him home. I have no right to ask this of you, I know that, but I think deep in your heart you know this is wrong as well.

I don’t think either of us stands a chance against Mama, not on our own, but if we work together—if by some miracle of the stars Daphne works with us—I think we have a chance to break Mama’s hold. Freeing Lord Savelle is the first step, and I promise you, I will stand by you no matter the consequences.

I love you and I trust you and I miss you.

Parts of it aren’t surprising—their mother has always called Sophronia soft, though thinks sensitive might be a better word. Either way, it isn’t a quality that serves a Bessemian princess well, and the empress has done everything she can to harden Sophronia. It has never quite worked.

No, what surprises is the strength in Sophronia’s words. Not just the guilt or the hand-wringing over whether what they’re doing is right—that, might have expected from her sister. But action? That Sophronia has actually stood up and refused their mother? That is unfathomable from the girl knew.

But of course that rebellion has been for nothing—Sophronia should have anticipated as much. All their lives, their mother has been a step ahead of them, always seeming to see everything and know everything. But then, supposes she has always been the one pushing back, the one rebelling.

I think deep in your heart you know this is wrong as well. Those words linger in ’s mind, long after she burns the letter in her fireplace and readies herself for bed. Does she know it’s wrong? Yes, she’s been plagued by guilt over framing Lord Savelle; yes, she’s been haunted by thoughts of him imprisoned, of him burned, because of her. But it’s an ugly necessity, isn’t it? A way to save her own life, yes, but also a way to save Cellaria—to save other people like her and Lord Savelle’s daughter and all of the others who have been or will be executed for acting against Cellaria’s strict laws. might not agree with her mother about much, but she believes that Cellaria will be better off under her rule. Isn’t that worth the cost of one man’s life?

isn’t sure anymore.

“You look troubled,” Pasquale says, coming into the room from the parlor, still dressed for dinner. He’s been dining with his uncle—Gisella and Nico’s father—as well as some other members of the royal council. By his expression, she doubts it went well.

“So do you,” she points out. “I wish I could have gone with you.”

“Believe me, I do too, but they were very insistent about talking to me alone. They might have suspected you’d manage to charm a few of them over to our side,” he says with a wry smile.

“Our side?” asks. “Have we taken sides?”

“I think there’s something seriously wrong with my father. I think that war with Temarin is the last thing anyone needs. Our truce has been good for both of our countries—it’s imperative that it holds. They disagree. My uncle, specifically, seems determined to go to war. So I suppose there are sides now,” Pasquale says, collapsing into bed beside her. “I know my father, Triz. I know his moods. I know his temper. But this is something else. He’s sick. I know it, and I think they know it too but they can’t admit it.”

“Of course not,” says with a snort. “Their power is reliant on his. It’s why no one tells him no.”

suddenly wonders if her mother is responsible for the king’s worsening condition. She wouldn’t put it past her, and a mad king would serve her purposes. It would be easier to gain the loyalties of the hostile country if she liberated them from such a tyrant. I think deep in your heart you know this is wrong as well. Sophronia’s words echo in ’s mind again.

“Do you want to be king?” asks. Though they are alone in the room, she still lowers her voice.

Pasquale looks at her with a furrowed brow. “What sort of question is that?” he asks.

remembers the game on the beach, how he said he was lying about not wanting to be king, how knew it was actually the truth.

“I think you would be a good one,” says softly. “Maybe not the one your father was, even in his prime, but a fair one. A just one. You could create a better Cellaria.”

Pasquale’s frown deepens. “We aren’t talking about that,” he says, more firmly than necessary.

looks at him, at the boy she married knowing she would eventually betray him. The husband who is nothing like what she expected, nothing like what she hoped, but somehow the friend she needed.

“We are talking about that,” she says, holding his gaze. “That’s exactly what we’re talking about. Your father is unwell. He’s making bad decisions for Cellaria. The only way this ends well is with you on the throne. So I’m asking you, is that what you want?”

Pasquale lets out a long exhale. He looks away from her, but when his gaze returns, she remembers how she thought he looked when they met, like a frightened puppy. Now, though, she thinks the puppy might have teeth. “I never thought I did. I still don’t. But I think it’s what I need to do, or rather what’s needed of me. And with you by my side, the prospect seems less frightening.”

nods slowly, a plan taking shape. A wild plan, an impossible plan, maybe, but the only chance to help her sister. Stars damn you, Sophie. You and your blasted conscience. She looks at the boy whose life she has bound irrevocably to hers, and a brittle smile forms on her lips.

“Well then,” she says. “I suppose we’ll have to stage a coup.”

—

Trust is not something that comes easy to . Her mother has never encouraged it, not even between her and her sisters, though that at least was inevitable. But she, Daphne, and Sophronia have never had friends—anytime they grew close to others their age, their mother did something to wreck the blooming friendship. remembers when she was eight and she began to make friends with the daughter of an earl who shared her love of both fashion and theater, and how the girl’s family soon moved away from court, to their country estate, and never heard from her again. Though it seemed like a cruel twist of fate at the time, sees her mother’s fingerprints clearly now, on that incident and so many others like it.

Trust no one but me, their mother has always seemed to say, even if she’s never said the words exactly. The lesson has been learned nonetheless. and her sisters don’t have friends, they don’t have confidantes, they only have themselves, and their mother.

I love you and I trust you and I miss you, Sophronia saidin her letter, and it’s those words that repeats again and again in her mind as she and Pasquale sit in their parlor and wait for their guests to arrive. She does trust Sophronia, maybe more than anyone—certainly more than Daphne, who is fairly certain will never say a bad word about their mother, let alone act against her. In that, knowsSophronia is mistaken, but that is a problem for another day.

She trusts Pasquale, too, she thinks as they watch the door. In part, it’s a mercenary trust; they have no choice but to put their trust in each other, at least for now. But that isn’t it, not entirely. She trusts him because he’s Pasquale, and from the moment they were thrust together, their fates were forged.

And when Gisella and Nicolo step into the room with Ambrose at their heels, realizes she trusts them as well, in part because she has little choice, but also because they’re her friends. Maybe, with Ambrose most of all, it’s a tangential trust—Pasquale trusts him, so does as well. But Gisella and Nicolo trusted her enough to warn her about the king’s proclivities—Nico even risked his own safety to protect her from them.

When they’re all seated around the roaring fireplace, and Pasquale exchange a look. They didn’t talk this part over, but knows she’ll have to take the reins. She looks around at the other three and clears her throat.

“King Cesare is unstable,” she says. “We all know that, don’t we?”

Ambrose looks uncertain, while Gisella and Nicolo have one of their wordless conversations, but no one disagrees. After a moment, all three nod. considers mentioning that she believes someone has been poisoning his wine, that it might have proven fatal if Nicolo and the others hadn’t been diluting it, but she holds her tongue. She’ll wait until she hears back from Daphne before saying anything for certain.

“If he continues to go unchecked, he will bring ruin to Cellaria,” says. “This war with Temarin will only be the beginning.”

“Temarin declared war on us,” Ambrose says, his voice soft. “It hardly seems avoidable now.”

bites her lip. “I had word from my sister, Sophronia—the declaration is a forgery. She and Leopold have no desire for a fight with us, just as we should have no desire for a fight with them. We’re family, in more ways than one. It’s in both Cellaria’s and Temarin’s best interests to maintain the truce.”

takes a deep, fortifying breath before continuing. “Once Lord Savelle is executed, there will be no turning back, no stopping this war.” No stopping my mother from claiming both broken countries as her own, she adds silently. Because that is what she is doing in supporting Sophronia. has never shied away from rebelling against their mother before, but those were little rebellions, meaningless rebellions, done for show and little more. This, though, there is no coming back from. knows this, but frightening as it might be to break with the empress, turning her back on Sophronia isn’t a possibility. She steels herself and continues. “If King Cesare wishes to damn us all by crossing that line, it is up to us to stop him.”

Nico glances around at each of them in turn. “We’re talking treason here,” he says.

“Nico,” Gisella starts.

“I’m not passing judgment,” he says quickly. “I just want to be very clear. What we’re discussing is treason. People burn for this.”

“People are burning for a lot less these days,” says.

Nicolo levels her with a look. “That’s not funny.”

“No, it isn’t,” she agrees, holding his gaze. “Do you think it’s right? Burning people for using magic?”

She finds that she desperately wants to know what he says—not just to know if he will stand with them, but to know what he would think if he knew the truth about her. Would he look at her any differently? Would he happily watch her burn? She doesn’t think so, but she can’t be sure.

“Not even using magic,” Pasquale puts in. “We all know that the evidence presented against most of them is flimsy.”

waves his words away. “But beyond that,” she says. “When we spoke of it before, Gigi and Nico, you didn’t seem to think it sacrilegious so much as scandalous. Pas, you’ve never expressed the same level of hate I’ve heard from others. If Lord Savelle is guilty of what the king has accused him of, do you think he should die for it?”

For a moment, none of them says anything, but to ’s surprise it is Ambrose who speaks first.

“It’s a lot of power for a person to have,” he says quietly. “But I’ve read many books—far too many, more than likely, and a good many of them illegal here, I’ll admit. I’ve read stories of terrible things empyreas have done with that power, but also the good things. The great things. The miracles.” He hesitates, looking around at the others with some degree of mistrust. can’t blame him. The words he’s saying could get him killed. But he continues. “No, I think if Lord Savelle has the power to bring the stars down from the sky, to bend them to his will, that perhaps we should consider that the stars have seen fit to bless him. If that’s the case, would killing him then count as sacrilege?”

It’s a wordy answer, and more of a theological debate than can quite wrap her head around, but as far as she understands it, Ambrose doesn’t wish her dead, and that is good enough for her. She glances at the others.

“I’m not sure about all of that,” Gisella says, looking at . “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wished on a few stars myself, just to see if I had the gift. You have, too, Nico, don’t pretend you haven’t.”

Nicolo scowls at his sister before looking at . “She’s right. I have,” he admits. “I’d imagine most people have, even in Cellaria. It’s not something a person should burn for.”

feels somewhat validated, even though it isn’t as much of an affirmation as she’d like to hear. It’s enough, she supposes. She turns toward Pasquale, who meets her gaze with surprising steadiness.

“I’ve known my father’s laws were wrong for a long time,but I think about Lord Savelle’s daughter often. She didn’t deserve to die for what she did. I wish I could have done something to help her then, but I’ll certainly help her father now.”

Nicolo looks from Pasquale to . “So?” he asks. “What do you have in mind?”

glances at Pasquale. This is the part of the plan he thought was lunacy, but he’s willing to trust her. She hopes the others are as well.

“We’re going to break Lord Savelle out of prison and send him back to Temarin.”