Violie
After climbing back down the castle wall, makes her way into the woods that surround the castle, twisting the poison ring she stole from Princess Daphne’s jewelry box as she goes. She’s grateful she took the opportunity to rifle through the box while she waited for Daphne to return from dinner—even more grateful that she chose to hide on top of the wardrobe rather than inside it, as she’d initially chosen to do. If she had, she’d be cut to ribbons right now.
Princess Beatriz was right, Daphne can’t be trusted, and what’s worse, Queen Eugenia is currently in residence at the castle. In ’s wildest imaginings, she wouldn’t have expected that. She’d assumed Eugenia would have fled south to Cellaria, where she was born and raised and likely has allies.
But apparently, she has made an ally of Daphne—a discouraging thought.
There was that flicker of doubt, though, when told Daphne that her mother was responsible for killing Sophronia. Daphne didn’t believe her, of course, but there was a part of her that didn’t think the idea was ludicrous. It’s astart.
But it was also plain that Daphne wouldn’t hesitate to turn Leopold over to her mother at the first available opportunity. is determined that she won’t get that opportunity, not until is sure she can be trusted.
It takes some time to retrace her path through the woods—careful to use a fallen tree branch to obscure the prints she leaves in the snow—but she finally comes across the cave she and Leopold picked out when the mail cart dropped them off in Eldevale a few hours ago. She hoped it would be a stopping point before they settled in the castle, but those plans have changed.
Leopold appears in the dark mouth of the cave, eyes questioning, though he must see something in her expression, because his shoulders slump.
“Beatriz was right about her sister?” he asks, leading her farther into the cave, out of sight of anyone who might wander by.
“Worse than that,” tells him, shaking her head. “Your mother is staying in the palace, a refugee guest of King Bartholomew.”
Leopold stops short, whirling to face her. can’t see his face, but she can feel the spark of fury, burning so hot it radiates from him like heat from a fire.
“My mother?” he asks, the two words spoken dangerously low.
“That’s what Daphne said, yes. She thought it would tempt you to come to the castle, to reunite with her.”
“It tempts me to go to the castle, if only to get my hands around her throat,” he growls. “Were my brothers with her?”
swallows. “They arrived with the queen, but…” She trails off. She knows telling him will break his heart, and he’s faced more than his share of heartbreak lately. She realizes she doesn’t want to hurt him any more, a disconcerting thought. She pushes past it. “They were kidnapped a few days ago.”
“Kidnapped,” he echoes.
nods before realizing he can’t see her in the dark. “Yes. Apparently your mother is distraught.”
“I’d wager my mother had something to do with it,” Leopold replies. “She already tried to kill me, clearly she has no reservations about filicide.”
“It’s possible,” agrees, though privately she suspects the kidnapping has Empress Margaraux’s fingerprints all over it. Leopold doesn’t need reason just now, though, he needs anger, so she lets him have it.
“We can’t stay here tonight,” she tells him. “I’ve heard enough stories about the size of Frivian bears to haunt my nightmares, and I have a feeling Daphne will search the woods first when she wakes up.”
“Wakes up?” Leopold asks.
holds up her hand with the ring on it. “I stole it from her jewelry case, along with a bag of asters. Sophronia had one like it—it contains a sleeping draught and a needle to inject a person. She’ll sleep until morning.”
She half expects Leopold to wring his hands over the fact that used poison, but she supposes he must be getting used to the way she handles things, because he doesn’t even blink.
“Where will we go?” he asks instead.
“We’ll have a better chance of avoiding notice in town,” she tells him. “There will be a lot of people around, hopefully two travelers with strange accents won’t stand out too much. And I stole enough asters to get us a room at an inn for a few nights, at least.”
“And then?” Leopold asks.
bites her lip. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But I told Beatriz I would spy on Daphne for her, and I’ll need to be in the castle to do that.”
—
and Leopold make their way to the Wallfrost Inn on the outskirts of Eldevale. All the while, ’s mind is awhirl, thinking up a plan. After she uses the asters she stole from Daphne to secure a room, they sit down for dinner in the public room.
“You speak Frivian well,” she tells him. “But your accent is atrocious.”
Leopold looks vaguely affronted. “I’ll have you know my Frivian tutor said I was the best pupil he’d ever taught,” he said.
snorts. “Yes, well, you were going to be his king. I’m sure he hoped to flatter you.”
Leopold frowns, though he doesn’t look surprised at the idea. She supposes it’s a reality he’s had to face often since they fled Temarin—Leopold is woefully underprepared for this life that he was never supposed to live.
“I suppose you can do better?” he challenges.
smirks and waves the barmaid over, ordering another round of the hot cider she and Leopold have been enjoying—with a healthy dose of cinnamon, it feels like drinking liquid fire, and after spending the evening out in the snow, that prospect is appealing. The barmaid smiles and she and make brief conversation about the snow before she leaves to fetch the ciders.
Leopold looks at her like he’s never seen her before. “How did you do that? You sounded like a local.”
shrugs. “I told you my mother was a courtesan,” she says. “Many of her colleagues grew up in other countries. I used to enjoy mimicking the way they spoke.” She pauses for a moment. “I used to think it would be a helpful skill to have as an actress.”
“You wanted to act?” Leopold asks, eyebrows rising.
shrugs. That version of her feels like a complete stranger now. “I was a child—my acting phase fit in somewhere after being a princess and before being a dancer. But spying utilizes many of the same talents as acting, accents among them.”
“You have a plan, don’t you?” he asks, looking at her over the rim of his mug. “That’s why you want me to pass as Frivian.”
“Well, if nothing else, it will help us fit in here. Friv is a reclusive country, they don’t trust outsiders. And if Princess Daphne sends anyone looking for a Temarinian, you’ll be easy to find.”
Leopold nods, his brows drawn close together. “Right,” he says. “Can you help teach me?”
The barmaid returns, passing them their fresh mugs of cider.
“Anything else?” she asks them.
considers her plan for a second—impulsive it may be, mad it certainly is, but it’s a plan nonetheless. “Would you happen to know somewhere we can buy stardust?”
The barmaid raises her eyebrows. “My brother’s friend’s sister has a shop. It’s closed now, but I can have a vial brought up to your room tonight.”
rustles through her bag of asters and withdraws ten, passing them to the barmaid. “I trust that will suffice?”
The barmaid counts the coins and nods. “I’ll have it for you in a few hours,” she says before heading back behind the bar.
“Stardust?” Leopold asks. “You must know that whatever she’s going to get at this hour for ten asters will hardly be strong.”
shrugs. “It doesn’t need to be strong,” she says. “It just needs to change the color of your hair.”
“My hair?” he asks, alarmed, running a hand through it.
“When she wakes up in the morning, Daphne will have everyone looking for a boy matching your description. We need to ensure you don’t match it, especially if we’re going to get jobs in the castle.”
Leopold raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a bit like walking into the lions’ den dressed in slabs of meat?”
“Daphne and your mother are the only people who will recognize us—and even Daphne might not know you in person, especially with different hair, though I’m not keen to test that theory. If we can find work somewhere like the kitchens, I should be able to learn enough about what Daphne’s doing to keep Beatriz apprised while still avoiding notice.”
Leopold appears to consider it for a moment, staring into the mug of cider he holds, a plume of steam rising from the top. “It still seems risky,” he says.
snorts and takes another gulp of her cider. “At this point, Leopold, even breathing is risky.”
—
That night, and Leopold sit cross-legged on the narrow twin bed that takes up most of their room at the inn. Leopold has already set up a makeshift bed on the small patch of floor next to it, but they’ve been sitting together while they practice his accent.
His problem, realizes, is that he keeps the edges of his words hard, the way Temarinians do, but Frivians have a tendency to let their words crash into one another. It is a difficult habit to erase, but by the time the barmaid arrives at their door near midnight with the promised vial of stardust, his accent is almost passable.
“You shouldn’t speak unless necessary,” she tells him when the barmaid is gone, closing the door and crossing back to the bed with the stardust in hand.
“I could simply not speak at all,” he offers, but shakes her head.
“The last thing we want is for there to be anything notable about either of us. It was one of the first things I learned working for the empress—how to be invisible. And no one is more invisible than a servant.”
Leopold snorts. “That’s not true. I paid attention to the servants.”
laughs. “Please—when you arrived in that cave and found me there, you didn’t even recognize me.”
“Well, you were Sophie’s maid. It wasn’t as if we crossed paths often.”
stares at him. “Leopold, we were in the same room almost daily, usually multiple times. You spoke to me often enough, though never by name.”
“I did not,” he says, frowning. “I’m sure I would have remembered.”
“But you didn’t,” she tells him. “Because no one notices the servants.”
Leopold’s frown deepens and she senses he wants to argue with her more, but she isn’t terribly concerned with soothing his guilt at the moment.
“It’s a good thing they don’t,” she says. “That’s what we’re counting on.”
Leopold looks like he wants to argue the point further, but after a second, he nods.
holds up the vial of stardust. “Now, let’s take care of your hair.”