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

Sophronia

A ball is the last place wants to be tonight. The crowd around her is giddy and boisterous, sipping drinks and making small talk, discussing the coming war with Cellaria as if it’s the most recent tidbit of scintillating gossip rather than a devastating mistake for the country. If one more courtier congratulates on it, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to keep herself from striking them. But she understands that the optics matter—if they will be dragged into a war with Cellaria no matter what, it needs to appear to have been their choice. No one can know about Violie’s forgery or that Leopold tried to go back on the falsified declaration. So she keeps her smile firmly fixed, even though she wants to scream.

Leopold passes her a crystal flute of champagne. “I’ve had no word from Pasquale,” he tells her, keeping his voice low. “Have you heard from your sister?”

shakes her head. After she sent coded letters to Beatriz and Daphne, she suggested Leopold write Pasquale as well. It’s only been a few days since then, but has been watching the post with a growing sense of desperation.

“We’ll ship out our first troops tomorrow,” he tells her. “Since it doesn’t appear we can get out of this, I’d like the war over as soon as possible. If we ambush them on their land, we have a better chance of that.”

nods, though her mind is elsewhere. Her eyes track Eugenia as she crosses the ballroom floor in a resplendent gold gown. There is nothing forced about her smile—she is absolutely beaming, happier than has ever seen her. And why shouldn’t she be? In her mind, she is one step closer to getting exactly what she has been working toward—Temarin under Cellarian rule. doesn’t doubt her mother has a plan for that, too, though, and it gives her some petty joy to know that Eugenia’s glee will be short-lived.

“Excuse me a moment,” she says to Leopold before following Eugenia.

She catches up with the dowager queen on the other side of the ballroom, linking their arms and falling into step beside her.

“I know what you did,” tells Eugenia.

Eugenia rolls her eyes. “Please, my dear, this is a party. I’d like to enjoy it.”

“Then why don’t we get you a glass of sparkling wine? Tell me, was it bought from Cosella?” asks.

Eugenia goes rigid for an instant before she laughs. “You truly are paranoid. No, as Leopold requested, any palace purchases that can be made in Temarin are. Including the sparkling wine. Might I suggest you partake in a glass?” she asks, plucking one from the tray of a passing server before handing it to . “You really must relax.”

grips the glass so tightly she worries it might break. “I know that you’ve been conspiring with your brother,” she tells Eugenia, barely bothering to keep her voice low. Eugenia narrows her eyes and tugs away from the crowd, leading her out to the secluded balcony.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eugenia says, but it is the most blatant lie has ever heard.

“I know that you’ve been intentionally bankrupting Temarin, that you drained our war chest, so that when this war came, Cellaria would be able to conquer us with ease. I have a letter from your brother to you, and if you aren’t gone from the palace tonight, I will show it to Leopold.”

It’s a bluff, but Eugenia doesn’t know that. Without the letter, can’t prove Eugenia’s treason—not conclusively enough that Leopold will believe her over his own mother, not without revealing her own duplicity. But wants her gone.

Eugenia looks at for a long moment, but doesn’t wither under her gaze. She holds it firmly.

“That’s funny,” Eugenia says finally, her smile a sprung trap. “Because your mother told me you sent the letter to her.”

The ground shifts beneath ’s feet. What did her mother say? Leave her to me. Before she can begin to wrap her mind around what those words actually meant, Eugenia continues.

“She explained that we had similar aims, she and I,” she says. “But she wanted to know why I was doing so much work to serve another king when I could serve myself. So we…reconfigured our plans. I must say, I like hers better.”

Through the open balcony door, hears a wineglass shatter against the floor, but it feels like it’s coming from a world away.

“What, to drive us into war? It’s the same plan,” says, but something isn’t right. She can feel it in the pit of her stomach.

“Oh, there won’t be any war,” Eugenia says, laughing. “You look absolutely parched, Sophie. Have a drink.”

It’s a bizarre non sequitur, but it isn’t until Eugenia’s hand closes around ’s where it holds the wineglass, forcing it to her lips as another glass crashes to the floor inside, this time followed by a scream, that she understands. She struggles to get away from Eugenia and the glass, but Eugenia has her backed against the balcony railing.

“It’s poisoned,” manages to get out.

Distantly, she hears Leopold call her name but realizes that Eugenia has positioned them out of sight of the ballroom. Still, she’s relieved—if he’s calling for her, he must be all right.

“Your mother said you were clever,” Eugenia says through gritted teeth. “Ansel was so upset with Leopold, it was easy to convince him that the aristocracy was a threat that needed extinguishing. It was easy for him to convince plenty of other commoners.”

manages to shove Eugenia’s arm with enough force that the glass goes flying, crashing against the stone floor, but she only takes two steps before Eugenia pulls a small pistol from the voluminous sleeve of her gown and levels it at .

This time, though, is ready. She lunges before Eugenia can take proper aim and grabs hold of the arm holding the pistol, wrenching it backward at a sharp angle that leaves Eugenia no choice but to drop the pistol and let out a scream of pain. grabs the weapon from the floor and has it pressed to Eugenia’s temple in the space of a breath.

“I would kill you here and now, you know,” she tells Eugenia, “if I didn’t think I’d be doing my mother a favor.”

Instead, she changes her grip and brings the butt of the pistol down hard against Eugenia’s head, sending her crashing to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Leaving Eugenia behind, starts toward the doors again, but as she draws closer, she sees that the ballroom has already been swarmed by a large group of what she assumes to be the peasant rebels Eugenia mentioned, some dressed in servants’ livery. They check the pulses of the fallen nobles. When the Duke of Ellory moves to sit up, a man standing over him removes a pistol from his jacket and shoots him in the chest, the sound of the gun echoing loudly. She doesn’t see Leopold, but there are so many bodies on the floor that it doesn’t give her much comfort.

stumbles back from the door, looking around the balcony for another way out. She is only on the third floor—climbing down the wall might be her best bet. She’s about to hoist herself over the railing when she hears her name whispered from the darkened corner a few feet from the door.

“Sophie, through here,” the voice whispers, a little louder.

tiptoes closer, but before she can see who it is, a hand grabs her arm and pulls her into a dark passageway she didn’t know existed. It’s only when the door closes again and her eyes adjust to the dark that she sees Violie.

“Where are we?” whispers.

“Servants’ passage,” Violie whispers back, beginning to lead her down the corridor. has no reason to trust her, but since there are no other options at present, she follows.

A million questions run through ’s head as they make their way in silence, but only one rises to her lips. “How did you get back in?” she asks. “I told you I’d have you arrested.”

Violie glances back at her and shrugs. “If we manage to live through this, you’re welcome to follow through on that threat,” she says. “But to answer your question—Queen Eugenia had me brought to her before I left the palace. Apparently, your mother told her about me and passed along one last task—smuggling in the rioters and the wine.”

stops short. “ You poisoned the wine?” she asks.

Violie glances back at her. “It was already poisoned, but I didn’t know it. I didn’t know what they had planned at first—your mother isn’t fond of being questioned, you know.”

does know that, but still. “You didn’t assume there was a reason the wine needed to be smuggled in? Surely you must have suspected it was tainted somehow.”

Violie winces but doesn’t deny it. “I intentionally didn’t think about it,” she says. “But once I realized it would be lethal, that the plan was to kill every aristocrat in the palace, I came to find you. To save you.”

If she expects gratitude for that, doesn’t have any for her. “Where’s Leopold?” she asks instead. “And what about his brothers?”

“Eugenia had the princes removed from the palace this afternoon—I’m not sure where, but I believe she did it to ensure their safety.”

When she doesn’t continue, presses. “And Leo?”

“His was the only glass not poisoned,” Violie says after a moment. “When the bodies started to fall, Ansel had him brought back to your rooms and placed under heavy guard there.”

’s immediate relief is quickly dwarfed by dread. “Why?” she asks, though she suspects she already knows the answer.

“His death needs to be public,” Violie answers. “It’s scheduled for the day after tomorrow at sundown. The rebels wanted to ensure there was time for word to spread. They want an audience.”

stares at her for a moment, shock coursing through her. “No,” she says finally.

“Sophie—”

“No. That won’t happen. I’m not going to let it— we aren’t going to let it,” says, shaking her head.

“There’s no stopping it,” Violie says. “He’s under heavy guard. I’m lucky I managed to find you. No, we need to get out of the palace, out of this city, out of this stars-forsaken country—”

“No,” says again, shaking her head. “No, there must be a way.”

She does a quick inventory—she has Eugenia’s pistol, Violie with her knowledge of the palace’s servants’ tunnels, and a wish around her wrist.

Her fingers go to the bracelet her mother gave her. In case you have need of it. She knows this is not what her mother meant, but here she is, having need of a miracle.

A plan forms itself around that wish—a mad plan, yes, and one she needs Violie for. She reaches out and grabs hold of the other girl’s hand, squeezing it tight.

“I’m glad you saved me, Violie, but it doesn’t make us even,” says. “It doesn’t come close to making up for your betrayal.”

Violie looks at like she’s physically struck her, but after a second, she nods. “I know that,” she says. prepares to hear more excuses, but none come.

“Help me save Leopold,” tells her. “If you help me save him, I will forgive everything.”

Violie looks at for a long moment and worries that she is asking too much, but finally, Violie nods.

“What would you have me do?” she asks.

—

An hour later, Violie leads down the deserted palace hallway with her hands bound behind her back by a strip of cloth from her dress and the pistol pressed to her temple. They stop in front of the hall that leads to the royal wing, where two men are standing guard—peasants, guesses, based on their clothes and the mismatched weapons they carry. One holds a rusted ax, while the other carries a rifle.

“What’s this, then?” the man with the rifle asks, looking from Violie to .

“ This is Queen ,” Violie says. “I found her trying to sneak out of the palace. Apparently, she didn’t drink any wine, but I thought Ansel might want her executed alongside the king.”

The two men look at each other and shrug before letting Violie and pass.

“This is a terrible idea,” Violie whispers as they make their way toward the rooms and Leopold share. tries to ignore her, though she worries she’s right. I can’t let Leopold die for my mistakes, she thinks, pushing her doubt out of her mind.

More guards are stationed outside the rooms, but when Violie repeats what she told the first set, one of the men slips inside, and Violie can hear a brief, muffled conversation before the guard returns, Ansel with him. When he sees , his eyes light up.

“Ah, Your Majesty, we were worried we misplaced you,” he says, as if they are having a pleasant conversation over tea. smiles tightly at him but doesn’t bother with an answer. Ansel turns to Violie. “Well done, Violie. Better to execute two royals than one.”

With that, he takes hold of ’s shoulder and shoves her into the room.