Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Beckham was waiting for me back at my suite, and seeing him brought me a peace I didn’t realize I needed.
After losing Mara to the competition, I feared that the king might torture Beckham as well.
Though, based on the ghastly expression he wore, I wasn’t so certain that he hadn’t experienced some fresh torment.
“My lady, I heard about the contest…” He swallowed, tugging at the ends of his sleeves. He looked like such a child in that moment. I often forgot how young he was, but war would age anyone. “Mara, is she…?”
“She’s going to be fine,” I said with a forged assurance. He looked at me hopefully, and I approached him with a confidence that I prayed looked real. I needed to salvage as much of his bravery as I could if I was going to save anyone. “But only if we can find a way to help her.”
I pulled the sash off my head, tossing it onto the nearest chair simply to get it off my skin.
The rich blue caught Beckham’s eye, his face paling further the longer he looked at it.
We both knew what that sash was meant to symbolize—I was fighting for Aemastia’s crown, not for Ivalon’s.
But symbols only carried meaning if the people believed it, and Beckham knew how much I cared for him and Mara.
“How?” Beckham tore his gaze away from the sash, standing a bit taller. “I couldn’t help my family during the siege, but if there’s a way I can help Mara, I’ll do anything.”
He reached instinctively toward the chain around his neck, his hands drawn to the strongest power he could wield. While admittedly his magic was useful, that wasn’t what Mara needed from him now.
“I need you to tell me everything you know about the Guardian,” I said, causing his fingers to still around the chain.
“M-my lady.” He glanced back at the door, his voice sounding like he’d just swallowed a fly. “We mustn’t speak that name.”
There was no one here. Not even a guard at the door could have made out our words if we whispered them, but even so, the king had done an excellent job at fear-training his servants to follow the rules. I needed to break that training if I was going to beat him.
“Why do you think they don’t want you to speak it?” I asked him, stepping in front of his flicking gaze. “Because this guardian is a threat to them, and they want to keep you weak.”
Beckham moved deeper into the room, motioning for me to follow as he stood by the fireplace, hoping the crackling wood might mask some of our voices.
“Yes, but threatening the crown gets people killed,” Beckham whispered.
“So does following the crown.” I stood in front of the flames, the heat licking at my back as I remembered the smoke from my own palace. “Just look at what happened to Mara.”
Beckham tucked his head to his chest, his breaths long and heavy like he was going to cry. He didn’t, though, his strength returning as he finally looked up at me, his own fire burning from within.
“You’re right,” he said, sounding both encouraged and disappointed. “Mara did everything right, and she’s still not safe…I, I know something about the Guardian, but if it ever got out, a lot of people could get hurt.”
My pulse spiked at the news, and I had to calm myself before I got too excited. He trusted me, but I had to keep ensuring that his trust outweighed his fear.
“Please.” I placed a hand on his shoulder, his frame so much smaller than his uniform made it seem. “More people are going to get hurt if we don’t start looking out for them.”
He nodded, then clutched his hands in front of him. “The Guardian manages to send encrypted letters into the castle from time to time,” he said, his voice barely audible. “It’s not often, but it’s the reason rumors first started circulating about the Guardian in the first place.”
Letters?
“How are they encrypted?” I asked. Nothing ever stayed a secret for long in this castle, so how could an enemy of the kingdom sneak messages in?
“The ink on the envelopes,” Beckham said, rousing my curiosity even more. “It’s magic.”
“Magic?” I knit my brows. “But how? Magic can only be carried in metals.”
“It is,” Beckham continued. “From my understanding, most ink is made from iron salts. These messages have apparently been coming for a while, but I only recently discovered them when I was told to work in the mail room. The ink is enchanted to only appear to those who are Ivalonian. Only our eyes can see it.”
“And most of the mail room workers are Ivalonian…” I said in awe, the cleverness of it all befuddling me.
“Fascinating. The Guardian must use bonding magic to conceal the ink from anyone else.” I lifted up my hand to view my mother’s ring, which possessed a similar power.
The jasper stone embedded in my ring altered the magic to seal bonds of love, but this ink seemed to react to bonds of blood.
“There’s regular ink written over top the letters to disguise them,” Beckham said. “The fake letters are usually nothing exciting, just civil disputes, false tax documents, or other nonsense.”
It was a genius plan, really. Send in any letter you know will end up sorted by the lower-class servants and sneak in a hidden message that will appear only for them. It was no wonder this Guardian was such a deity to Ivalon. They were capable of sending hope right under their captors’ noses.
“Remarkable, and you’ve seen these letters up close?” I asked, unable to hide my interest any longer.
“A few, but that’s because there’s been a few…
issues.” Beckham pressed his lips together, then nodded toward my purple-tinged fingers.
“When I was in the mail room, the Aemastian servants were having us search through the mail to pick out all the Guardian’s letters.
The talismans around the castle have been causing the parchment on the encrypted notes to turn purple. ”
I curled my tainted fingers, muttering a curse under my breath as I recalled those ridiculous magic flaggers. I wished I knew what they looked like so I could hunt them down and dismantle them, but they were too well-hidden, and there could have been as many as hundreds.
“Do they know who’s enchanting the letters?” I asked, fearing that my only hope at saving Mara might need their own rescuer first.
“No, only that they’re infected with some sort of magic,” Beckham said quickly.
“The Aemastians still can’t read the ink, but they know there’s something going on with them since they’re clearly carrying magic.
The whole thing seems to have left them puzzled, but they’re collecting them all nonetheless. ”
Good, they can stay confused, then.
“What does the hidden ink usually say?” I asked.
“From what I saw, mostly small encouragements,” Beckham said, a small smile warming his features.
“It was actually kind of nice to see. There were names of Ivalonian survivors who were under the Guardian’s protection, along with some uplifting words about the fight not being over and Ivalon still being alive. ”
So they were sending propaganda. But what were they trying to raise morale for?
“I’m assuming every Ivalonian servant in the mail room knows this secret?” I asked, pondering my next move.
“I would assume so, since it’s kind of hard to miss.
” Beckham shrugged. “The guards are trying to track down the source of the magic, but fortunately, none of the Ivalonians have spoken a word of it. It’s a widely known secret but also a tightly kept one.
I don’t think anyone wants to risk losing a guardian who is looking after the remnants of our home. ”
Yes, but it was only a matter of time before one pair of loose lips toppled everything.
“I see. Thank you, Beckham, this has been more helpful than you know.” I stepped away from the fire, the scent of smoke clinging to my hair as I moved toward my desk. Beckham followed after me as he watched me run loose with his secrets.
“Do you think it’s helpful enough to save Mara?” he asked, his voice sounding small again.
“I hope so,” I said, thumbing through my notes in search of my papers on the castle greenhouse. I paused when I found it, reminding myself of the short time Cedric had toured me through the space. “But first, I think I need to help the Guardian. Do you still carry that fogwrath flower I gave you?”
He nodded, reaching into his lapel pocket to produce a neatly folded cotton handkerchief. He unfolded it gently, revealing the dried and pressed flower that I had gifted him to suppress his magic.
“Is it still working well?” I asked, studying the flower closely.
“Yes, I haven’t had any issues with the talisman marking my skin ever since I started carrying it.” His eyes widened as he followed my line of thought. “Do you think fogwrath could stop the envelopes from turning purple?”
“I think it’s worth a try.” I smiled, gently folding the handkerchief back over the flower for him. “I’ll need to ask Prince Cedric if he can get me more of those flowers, but first I’m going to need one of the Guardian’s letters to test it on. Do you think you can acquire one for me?”
Beckham tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket, standing proudly at attention as he gave me a firm nod. “Yes, my lady. I usually work in the mail room for a few hours each day, so I should be able to secure you one.”
“Thank you. I promise I’ll make the most of it.” I turned to my notes, looking back at the sketch I’d made of the fogwrath and imagining how I could use the simple bloom to save my people.
The Guardian had no reason to trust an honored guest of Aemastia, but maybe warning them about the letters and offering a solution would be enough to gain their help in return. I couldn’t save Mara and win a kingdom, but maybe this way, someone could save Mara in my place.
It was funny—my father never would have allowed me to push my duties onto someone else like this.
I sat down at my desk, reading through my notes while never actually absorbing any of them. All I could wonder was whether asking for help made me a weak prince, or a wise princess?
Whichever I was, I just hoped there would still be a kingdom left for me in the end.