Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
I slid the plate of diced potatoes down the counter to Moll before taking a whiff of the aromatic vegetables and spices cooking in the pan.
“Smells amazing.”
After Duncan had left, and we’d stuffed ourselves full of bread and jam, we napped for a few hours. When I woke, I felt like a new woman. The feather beds were like clouds after sleeping in the blacksmith shop the night before.
Now, though we’d only just begun preparing it, I knew the stew would be delicious. So many vegetables, so many spices waiting to be used in the cupboards.
A soft cry echoed from outside.
“Oh, there’s Fetch!” Moll dashed for the back door, going quiet as she swung it open.
The falcon dove right past her, his wingtips hardly an inch away from brushing against her cheek, and his talons dropped into place on my leather shoulder pad. The rabbit he carried in his beak—the reason for his muffled cry—was plumper than the ones he caught in the Hollow.
Moll scurried over and snapped her fingers. “Fetch, drop!”
He met her with a dead-eyed stare.
“You know he’s a one-woman guy. Fetch, drop.” He let the rabbit fall to the counter before flying off to the makeshift perch I’d constructed for him at the front of our bedroom using one of the kitchen chairs.
“Stupid bird,” Moll muttered.
No matter how much she tried to butter him up, he only ever released food for little kids, and me. He wasn’t mean to her, precisely…no biting or scratching, but there was definitely a general aura of disdain aimed specifically at Molly that I could only credit to jealousy. They were the two closest friends I had. Family, really. And sometimes family was like that.
“This stupid bird just provided dinner, so be nice.” I grabbed the kitchen knife, shooing Moll out of the room as I moved toward the rabbit.
She hated this part.
I skinned and prepared the rabbit for cooking as quickly as I ever had, laying the organ meat and other remains of the rabbit on a plate for Fetch.
Only then did Moll take back over prepping the stew and adding the meat as I worked on making a second incapacitator with some of the scrap Smitty had let me take before we left.
Moll finished up the stew, bringing me a taste. I pulled open one of the cabinets, grinning as I caught sight of a second loaf of bread. Exposed to luxury like this, how else could two Hollow girls be expected to act? We plowed through dinner as if it might be our last—again, a distinct possibility—and the pot was drained within minutes.
The sudden clanging of bells split the silence, followed by the crystal-clear sound of trumpets. A moment later, a sharp knock sounded at the door. I turned to Moll, putting a finger to my lips, then strode to the door.
A guard greeted me as I pulled it open, an annoyed expression already on his face. “Time to go. The event begins shortly.”
“Yes, of course. We’re coming.” I called to Fetch, and he flew to my shoulder, landing lightly.
The guard dipped his head in assent, but waited for us to exit before moving on to the next hut a distance away.
“He seems fun,” I murmured to Moll once he was out of earshot.
Despite my joke, I was worried. I’d tried to convince myself that this was just the formal announcement of the king’s death and Duncan’s ascension as his replacement, but part of me wondered if it wasn’t just a big, fat setup. Were there a pair of nooses at the center of the amphitheater just waiting for me and Molly to walk into what would be our own public hanging?
I mean, it was the perfect way to get us not to run, to make it like they didn’t know, and then at the last minute pull the plush rugs out from under our feet.
Didn’t matter. There was no way out of it no matter how many scenarios I came up with in my head. Mandatory attendance meant everyone in Little Alabaster. Not going would only mark us for suspicion where there might be none.
“We’d better get a move on,” I said to Moll, hoping my nerves didn’t show. She tightened her hold on her crutches and followed me along the path.
At first, I wondered if we’d have trouble finding the place, but as we headed out into the cool evening air, I saw that Duncan was right. There were a lot of people—servants and even the lords and ladies of Little Alabaster, all walking in the same direction. The line stretched around the back of the palace, toward an ever-growing crowd.
“This way,” I said to Moll, as if she couldn’t see it for herself. She rolled her eyes and I smiled. “I guess I thought you were blind too for a minute there.”
Her eye rolling only intensified at my poorly made joke. I couldn’t help it, my nerves were getting to me.
As we folded ourselves into the fray, the tension was palpable. Despite some whispered wonderings of what was in store between a few servants, most walked in silence like they were as worried as us.
I just couldn’t decide if that was good or bad for me and Moll.
Fetch tucked his beak behind my ear, and wiggled his head, soothing me. I lifted a hand to him, knowing that he picked up on my feelings. “I’m okay, buddy.”
Once we rounded the palace toward the back, the massive amphitheater came into view.
I just stared at the size of it. Not as tall as the castle that stood in front of it, so it couldn’t be seen from a distance, but huge, nonetheless. Four stories, and wide, squat like a giant frog sitting waiting to snag some oversized flies. But the sheer size of it wasn’t nearly as shocking as the vibrant drawings that riddled its rough, brown exterior.
I blinked, staring. I had to be seeing things. Figments of my overactive imagination…
“Moll,” I whispered, “Is that a dwarf with a pickaxe?”
Molly nodded.
“A-and a girl biting into an apple?”
An apple I knew to be poisoned…
Moll poked me with her elbow and held up both hands with a scowl.
Right. She couldn’t reply. But she didn’t need to, because the closer I got to the images, the more I knew they were real.
The first was a dead match to the illustration on the cover of the fairytale book Wayne and Spalding had thrown in the creek nearly twenty years ago…
Fairytales that, according to my father and anyone I’d ever told about them, including Molly, were completely unknown in Alabaster.
Next to the cover image was one of a giant, orange pumpkin with wheels being drawn by a pair of white horses.
Cinderella.
My eyes flickered over the other two images, and the metallic taste of fear coated my tongue even as my eye began to twitch.
A pirate ship…a city made of emeralds…both exactly like the ones in my book. As a small child, I’d been too scared to listen to Pawpaw read those two particular stories, but there was no mistaking the skull and crossbones flag hoisted above the sails, and those ghoulish monkeys with wings.
What the fuck was happening here?
Dimly, I heard the murmurs of a trio of servants walking beside us.
“That last image appeared in the middle of the night. Same with the others on previous nights.”
I spared a glance at the striking green palace and the monkeys swarming around it and realized she was right. The drawing was smeared at the bottom, like it had been partially erased, but I could just make out a hazy figure walking down a long, winding road in the foreground.
I tuned back into the conversation just as the girl continued.
“They still haven’t caught the culprit. Clearly, it’s some sort of Whisper trick, but the sorcerer thought somehow soap and water were going to fix it,” one of them said with a snort of disgust. “I spent all day yesterday and most of today with eight other girls scrubbing them with lye and scalding water. They haven’t lightened up even a bit.”
“I heard Relyk himself was out here for hours trying to use magic to get rid of them, but all he managed to do was blur that tiny little section at the bottom. It would take him a month to get rid of them all at that rate,” another chimed in.
What. The. Fuck.
I let my eyes drift shut to concentrate on the conversation better, leaning on Moll to lead the way.
“Want to bet it doesn’t get mentioned tonight at all?” one of them whispered.
“I wouldn’t take that bet,” another replied. “They would never admit someone getting away with defacing the amphitheater right under the palace’s nose. Especially not right after our king was attacked. It doesn’t speak well of security around here, I’ll tell you that much.”
“How could they have had the time to do all that? The guards have been watching like hawks.”
“Oooh, do you think whoever is responsible for the murder is also making the drawings? Like as a symbol of some sort of rebellion?”
“But why these pictures, then? They don’t seem all that rebellious. They look like they’re from some sort of children’s fables.”
Exactly what I wanted to fucking know.
“Maybe the pumpkin carriage is a protest against the wealthy or about the people going hungry? And…and maybe the witch because so many in Alabaster aren’t allowed to use magic?”
I opened my eyes and frowned. Not a bad guess, actually.
“I kind of hope whoever it is keeps it up,” one of the servants whispered. “Seeing him nervous brings me joy.”
“Shhh, someone might hear you!” another shot back.
Guards strode between us, cutting off any further attempts to listen as they ushered us into orderly lines, pushing us away from that section of the wall.
I’d been worried about the announcement, but now my heart raced for a whole new reason.
What I wouldn’t give to get up close and have a really good look at those drawings…
Moll tugged on my arm, and I glanced at her. She frowned and lifted one shoulder in a silent question.
Of course she didn’t understand why I was acting so weird.
I’d talked about the book before in passing, but it had been nothing more than a memory by the time I met Moll. And hearing about it and seeing the exact same pictures in real life were two different kettles of fish. This wasn’t the time or place to try to explain, though. Especially when I didn’t even understand what was happening myself.
“Fine, I’m fine.” Maybe it was just a weird coincidence. Maybe whoever had painted them had come from the same kingdom as my real parents had. Maybe when we escaped, I’d travel and try to find their origins…and my parents.
For now, though, we were being moved in a way that felt eerily like cattle to the slaughter, and I needed to focus. Until we escaped Little Alabaster, I couldn’t concern myself with anything but keeping the two of us alive.
I swallowed hard and continued forward on shaky legs as the nobles went in through the front entrance while the servants and lower class—us included of course—were brought in through a side door. A winding stairway went up several stories, and when we emerged, the massive interior of the amphitheater came into view for the first time.
Bare bone seats rose in at least a hundred rows, stacked tight on top of one another—the same color stone as the exterior. I wouldn’t have thought there were enough people in Little Alabaster to fill it, and if I’d bet any money on it, I’d have lost it all. The ceiling was open to the sky above and the center of the massive building was a sand base by what I could see, round, with a few doors here and there that led to…gods knew where.
My eyes immediately latched onto Prince Duncan who sat across the way at ground level in a canopied section of seats. Relyk the sorcerer in his black and gold cloak stood behind a podium beside him with a small contingent of green-armored guards at his back.
Molly and I hurried to find seats. All told, it took nearly half an hour for the amphitheater to fill. Despite the fact that we were higher up, the grounds at the center were still quite visible.
Interesting though how quiet it was, there was hardly a single cough for all the people being brought in. It was…eerie.
“I wonder why the sorcerer is behind the podium instead of Duncan,” I whispered to Moll. I pointed at a large box behind Relyk. “And what the hell is that?”
She shot me a sharp stare and shrugged, then tapped her lips.
Right, vow of silence and all that. Even if she could have replied she wouldn’t have known I was just…speculating. Trying not to freak out.
Another round of trumpets split the eerily silent air, making both of us half leap out of our seats like a pair of skittish cats.
All around us the servants were still. Unmoving as if afraid to draw attention. Did they know something we didn’t?
Relyk raised his arm, waving lazily in greeting. “The royal family welcomes you to the amphitheater on this day.” His voice carried through the enormous chamber despite the thousands of occupants, as audible as if he was standing right next to me. “We are here today for a very special reason, and it is my honor and pleasure to announce the purpose for this evening’s event.”
His voice went solemn as he continued.
“The rumors you have heard are true. King Heinrich was attacked at the ball celebrating his coronation…stabbed in the heart by a female would-be assassin with red hair and a nefarious plot.”
Moll let out a low snarl and I gripped her hand, squeezing her fingers.
Fetch ruffled his feathers, as if in agreement with her assessment.
“We have not yet found the person responsible, but it’s only a matter of time.” Relyk turned to the contingent of guards behind him and waved a hand as he continued. “Because we have someone who saw the entire thing.”
A witness?
Black spots flickered before my eyes and blood rushed to my ears. Had we done enough to conceal our identities? Fuck, we were so fucked.
The sorcerer waved to the guards, and they moved to the covered box, pulling the curtain aside in a carefully practiced reveal. A hulking figure stepped into view, and my heart froze in my chest as I made out his features.
“He survived!” Relyk clapped his hands together.
Impossible.
Yet there he was. King Heinrich, his icy blue eyes alight in the setting sun. He looked far bigger and much more scary standing up than he had flat on his back. Moll’s clammy hand trembled in mine, and it took all I had not to dive at the man and gouge his fucking eyes out.
Instead, I took a breath and dipped into a belated bow like the rest of the crowd as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
How could he have lived? The amount of blood…the location of the shoe, buried right where his heart should’ve been. I would have sworn on anything you’d asked of me that he was dead. There had been no breath in him, no beat of his heart. But was it possible that I’d missed it in the panic?
As some of the shock faded, I was struck by how…odd he looked. His pale skin was stretched taut across his face, and his movements were just a little too slow…too deliberate. Miraculous for a man who’d been stabbed directly in the heart, but definitely not like he’d looked at the ball.
The initial attack hadn’t killed him, but maybe an ensuing infection would?
One could only hope. Because what if they brought us all up one by one? What if she’d told him something he remembered that led him to us? Even though he survived, it wouldn’t matter. She’d attacked him. I’d helped her.
We were both dead.
It was only then that I realized Molly was shaking, gripping my hand so tight, it had gone numb. I spared her a glance and my stomach revolted when I saw the stark terror in her eyes.
I could do no more than pull her closer and murmur low words of comfort in her ear as Relyk continued on.
“And with that, I turn it over to His Majesty to give us our opening thoughts on the evening.” The sorcerer fell into a bow as the king approached.
“We’re going to be okay. I swear it, Moll,” I whispered, leaning into her as Heinrich reached the podium.
A flicker of light passed from Relyk’s fingertips to Heinrich’s chest, and, when the king spoke, it came through with the same strength and volume that Relyk had managed.
Some kind of magic to amplify sound. Had the sorcerer's magic saved the king’s life? That had to be it.
The king’s eyes stared straight ahead. “A woman with red hair lured me into the gardens and then tried to kill me, but here I stand. Now, we need to work together as a people to find the traitors in our midst. Those who stand against the crown are a threat to everything this hierarchy was built to preserve. That way lies anarchy, chaos, and rebellion. Our enemies salivate at the thought of such things taking hold.” He held up a fist. “We will increase our search in the coming days to root our enemies out, but tonight? Tonight we celebrate! For I survived, and their plot is foiled!”
A colorful display of fireworks erupted from the edges of the amphitheater, and the king strode back, taking a seat on the previously boxed-in chair without speaking another word. The gates on one side amphitheater slid open, and my jaw dropped as a familiar screech split the air. More than a few people shrunk back.
Flying mantis.
I winced as it came into view. This one’s wings had been clipped, but there it was, in the flesh. It was a massive specimen, far larger than the one that had taken Cissy. A group of soldiers emerged from the other side of the amphitheater, but my attention was drawn to Duncan as he stood up. He strode over to the edge, slamming his gauntleted fist against his breastplate, as if cheering them on.
The squad of three men stepped into the ring as the mantis let out another shrill screech, his arm-blades unfurling as it advanced, mandibles clicking. The gate guard I’d met earlier, Sir Crispin, was at the front, his shield held high as he circled the beast.
“Seems cruel,” a servant whispered from just a few feet to my side.
Another servant let out a scoff. “Cruel? They’re bloodthirsty monsters. The newborns eat their mother the moment they’re born, and the injured are eaten the moment they can no longer fight.”
I had to agree with him there. Despite high walls, before the protection wards had been put in place, the mantises had killed dozens of people every year. They were also the main reason there was so little trade between us and the other two kingdoms. The long journey to either was rife with mantis nesting ground. In truth, their existence was a core point in the crown’s philosophy; how could humans hope to face off against such monsters, without the structure and centralization that a rigid hierarchy brought with it?
I bit at my lip as the thought occurred, cursing the royal family. So many bought into the philosophy without a thought that they might be being lied to. Even in The Hollow there were those who supported the crown buying into the propaganda and supporting their own oppression.
The beast flashed forward, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. A bladed arm smacked into the knight’s shield, and he rolled sideways, absorbing the blow. The other two guards dashed forward in unison, punishing the monster with twin stabs to its torso.
Greenish blood spurted onto the dirt, but the monster looked unfazed as if it had not just suffered a massive blow. Its mandibles snapped at the closest guard as its arms swung toward the other, smashing into his helmet and sending him to the ground. Crispin surged back into action, appearing in between the beast and the last standing guard.
Those long-bladed arms struck his shield again, but this time he was ready. His legs threatened to buckle under the force, but his blade snaked forward, slamming right into the Mantis’ face.
The beast let out an agonized scream, like a hundred pigs being slaughtered, drowning out the cheering crowd. It moved forward despite the wound, lashing out, but the soldier batted it aside once again.
Duncan leapt toward the edge of the stage, his one hand on his sword hilt, the other fisted tight. He looked half a breath from charging in to help them. Crispin was tossed down again, and his shield flew across the ring. He rolled, but the mantis slashed across his leg before the other guard rejoined the fray, his blade finding the monster’s flesh again. The Mantis exploded into a flurry of attacks, moving with a speed that went beyond anything I’d ever seen. It lunged at one guard, massive limb slamming into the shield with a rending sound that made every muscle in my body tense.
The shield dented and split, giving way to the beast, but the soldier never faltered, blocking the follow up blow with his sword. The monster kicked at him with razor sharp limbs, but he spun around it, letting the momentum carry him into a vicious slash to the beast’s neck.
Green blood flowed like water out of the creature’s neck as its head flew free of its previous attachments.
A sigh of relief slid out of me. Not that I’d thought the mantis would make it all the way to us but still…the monsters were hard to kill. If it had started climbing the stands….
The mantis dropped like a ton of bricks. Crispin limped over, lowering a hand to the wounded man, and helped him back to his feet as the crowd roared with shouts and applause.
My muscles finally unclenched. “Gods, that was crazy. Why would they risk their men like this?” I knew the answer even as I asked.
For the spectacle. To prove they could kill anything they wanted.
Risking lives for the viewing pleasure of the wealthy was just one more example of the grotesque lack of humanity here. Added into that, the show of power…it was a way to keep people from doing anything stupid. Like attacking a king.
My attention shifted back to the royal family. The king was clapping from where he sat, but he looked pale and groggy again, and it was Relyk the sorcerer who rose to speak once more.
“Well done. As you can see, our guards are as fine as ever, even in peacetime. Through careful, regimented training, the cream rises to the top, just as in the rest of our glorious society.” He paused, waiting for the crowd’s applause to slow. “But, if blood sports are not to your liking, we will continue with something a little lighter to our celebration. We welcome our falconer, Bertrand!”
That got my attention.
A wizened old tree of a man rose from the opposite side of the amphitheater, right behind the first row of nobles. He turned and kissed a stooped, elderly woman beside him on the forehead, then hobbled toward the stairs. The speckled pair of falcons on his shoulders sat perfectly still despite the noise of the crowd.
Fetch leaned forward and I put a hand on him, stilling him. I wasn’t sure we’d ever seen another falconer this close.
Bertrand made his way to the center of the ring, ignoring the streaks of green blood that stained the ground as three men dragged the mantis’ corpse away.
The old falconer moved with unexpected speed as he flipped a piece of jerky in either direction, and the birds shot into the sky in unison. They zipped off, catching their prizes and beginning to circle overhead. Bertrand let out a shrill whistle and they bolted upward even further, breaking into a series of tandem flips and twirls that had the crowd roaring.
He whistled again, deeper this time. They dropped their treats in unison, mid-flip, then fell into full-on dive bombs toward their falling strips of jerky. Each falcon went for the treat the other had dropped, and they smacked into them a couple yards above the ground, pulling out of their free fall to swoop back up and land back on Bertrand’s shoulders.
Fetch fidgeted on my shoulder as the crowd roared with applause.
“Jealous?” I whispered.
He nudged at my ear with his beak, as if in response.
A series of other tricks followed, and with birds that well-trained, I found myself wondering why they needed to hire me at all…
The sorcerer Relyk strode back to the podium, raising an arm as the falconer dropped into a stiff bow.
“Old Bertrand has served us long and well, and we’re thankful for all he has contributed to this great empire. But as we all age, new blood must be brought in. With that said, we have employed a second falconer, as apprentice to Bertrand.” My blood chilled as he continued. “And now is her chance to show what she’s capable of.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Moll’s hand locked onto mine like a vise, but I forced myself to my feet. I should’ve thought ahead and expected something like this the second the old falconer had been called out, should have been planning what to do.
“Wish me luck.” My vision darkened slightly as I walked mechanically toward the stairs, my heart thumping heavily in my chest. I gripped the railing firmly, eyes fixed on the king’s feet as I walked. No point in making eye contact with someone I wish had died for real.
I was near the bottom by the time I even considered what trick Fetch and I would do. Given the circumstances, how well did I want to do? I would essentially act as Bertrand’s apprentice for the time being, but more than that, we’d been planning to lay low. Now here I was in the center of the amphitheater, all eyes on me.
Anger spiked through me as I stepped into the ring.
“Bow to your king before you begin,” Relyk instructed.
I would’ve expected to be more afraid, but in that moment, staring into Heinrich’s cold blue eyes, all I felt was rage. I hoped it didn’t show on my face. If it was possible, I would’ve leapt across the small barrier between us and jammed my dagger into his neck, finishing the job Moll started.
His thick, golden crown shimmered in the evening light, the Empire’s insignia was printed on the center of his silken tunic. Starving gold miners died daily in The Hollow, beaten if they didn’t reach their quota, hung if they dared to take so much as a flake of the stuff. How many had died just to make the things he was wearing?
The image of him standing over Moll replayed in my mind, and my hand ached as I squeezed it into a tight fist.
Could I really leave this place and go back to The Hollow, while leaving this man in power to victimize others? But in truth…there was nothing I could do. I was no hero. I was no powerful Whisper. I was nothing but an orphan who was lucky to be on this side of the grave still.
He met my gaze for a long moment, his lips curling into a frown.
You need to bow. And you still haven’t you idiot!
I dropped into as shallow of a bow as I felt safe giving—the only slight I could offer at this point. I didn’t have time to figure it out now, but my previous plan had clearly been incomplete. Once I got Moll safely back to The Hollow and things calmed down again, maybe I would return to Little Alabaster.
Because this bastard did not deserve to rule. He was as monstrous as the mantis.
Heart pounding, knowing I was contemplating rebellion, the exact thing he’d warned against, I stayed in the bow, even lowering it a little.
Duncan would make a far better king. I could see that. But for Duncan to rule…Heinrich had to die.
For real this time.