Chapter 9
Lottie watched August disappear through the front doors, clutching his diadem in both hands and wishing she could do more to help.
The storm clouds had always followed her brother around, but for most of their lives, she’d been able to chase them away.
She once dressed in their father’s oversized clothes, spouting a terrible imitation of his deep voice as she burst into August’s room. She’d tripped, thanks to his too-big shoes, and fell flat. August had laughed so hard, he ended up on the ground beside her.
But after they lost their father, something shifted and now there was this impossible distance sitting between them.
She’d hoped taking him out for their birthday would help.
Getting out of the castle always helped her when the utter dullness of her approved acquaintances grew too tedious to bear.
She didn’t mind the gossip or the debates over the latest fashion, but sometimes she needed more.
For August, however, the storm clouds seemed to double after the festival, and she didn’t know why.
How could she help him when he refused to tell her anything?
“Charlotte.”
Lottie hid the circlet behind her back as she whirled to face her mother at the far end of the foyer.
Aesran Erynda stood rigid, her gloved hands clasped—a mirror image of the marble statue at the base of the grand staircase. Her fair skin caught the light like smooth stone, and her warm brown hair was woven artfully around her silver crown, highlighting her strong jaw and high cheekbones.
Sebastian stood at her side, his helmet obscuring his eyes just enough to hide where he was looking. But Lottie felt him watching her, and it made her shiver.
He was young, but his features were sharpened to points. His brown hair peeked out from beneath the helmet, and his angled jaw was set in a hard line.
He had served as the aesran’s personal guard since Lottie was twelve.
He couldn’t have been more than fifteen at the time, yet he was already one of the top cadets at the military academy.
The youngest soldier ever selected for the royal guard.
He’d been a constant silent presence in their lives ever since.
As the aesran crossed the foyer to Lottie, Sebastian stayed back, standing like a sentinel in the centre of the hall.
“Where is your brother?” she asked.
“He was feeling ill.” The lie was effortless, as usual.
Lottie figured it would be enough. Their mother seemed to avoid August most days, so the odds of her going to check on him were low.
She seemed like a different person depending on which of her children she was speaking to.
Though she made little effort with either, toward Lottie, she at least resembled a parent, making small talk, asking about her day.
She’d grant her permission to go into town, assigning a guard or two to accompany her.
With August, she was cold and unyieldingly strict. She hadn’t allowed him to leave the castle since their father’s death. Lottie sometimes wondered if it was part of her grief, if their mother was so heartbroken by the loss that she kept August in a bubble, terrified of losing him, too.
Were that the reasoning, Lottie probably should have been envious, but she couldn’t make that explanation fit.
“Perhaps you can tell me where he found this.” Her mother lifted a gloved hand, the black ring from August’s armoire in her pinched grasp.
It was just a ring, and August hadn’t known where it came from. Probably garbage dug from the gardens when he was a child, put away and forgotten. But something about the thing lifted goosebumps on Lottie’s arms. It felt so distinctly other.
She blinked. That was a strange thought. It was just a ring.
Still, it felt like a secret. And it wasn’t her secret to tell.
So she lied. “I don’t know. Maybe one of the guests brought it.”
A long, scrutinizing look, then her mother let the hand drop to her side. “Sebastian.”
As he approached, Lottie took an involuntary step back.
He unsettled her—a vague, prickly nervousness she didn’t fully understand—and her attention went to the dagger beneath her skirts, feeling the press of it against her thigh.
The dagger that had belonged to her father, that had ended up in her possession, though she couldn’t remember how.
Not unlike August and the ring.
“Have you seen anything like this before?” her mother asked the guard.
“No, Mo Aesran.”
Her tone was softer when she spoke again. “Do you think it’s from that place? The cold is the same. I can feel it through my gloves.” She handed Sebastian the ring, and he removed a glove to place the small object in his palm.
“I have no doubt,” was his reply.
The conversation felt like a continuation, as if the two of them spoke like this often.
That place. Her mother was asking his opinion, which in and of itself was strange.
Lottie could sense the secret between them like a living thing, and the words scraped like they were clinging to her, desperate for her to understand.
To remember something long forgotten. It made her head throb.
“What place?” Lottie asked. They both ignored her.
Her mother kept her eyes on the strange object. “It’s a perfect match to Talien’s family ring. Even the signet is the same.”
Lottie hadn’t noticed the similarities between this ring and her father’s. That, too, felt important.
Sebastian pressed the flat side of the ring to his thumb, then pulled it away to study the marking. His expression was unreadable, his eyes still obscured by the shadow of his helmet.
“How is that possible?” he asked.
A crease carved across her mother’s forehead. “I don’t know. But that place is linked to this one. These objects are connected. They’re like opposite sides of a caern.”
There it was again. That place. It clawed and grasped at her, screaming, begging.
Remember.
Sebastian nodded in agreement, then handed the ring back. “It’s too perfect a replica to be a coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.” Her mother’s voice slid seamlessly back to the hardened one Lottie knew too well. “I’d like a meeting with High Commander Fenholt.”
Sebastian’s head tilted almost imperceptibly, a curious motion that reminded Lottie of a cat she’d once found on the castle grounds. Much like Sebastian, the animal was shifty and unsettling.
“Can you trust the commander?” he asked.
“I trust no one. You know this. But talk of revolution is seeping into every corner of the city. I know death too well, and I have no wish to meet it again. Steps are already in motion to prevent the worst, but if I’m right about this ring—if it can be bound to the original—then perhaps there’s still a way to achieve what we’ve been working toward.
The rebellion could be smothered before it ever begins. ”
“You don’t think he’d fight willingly for you?” Sebastian asked. “If he remembered.”
“No, he is a threat.” She rubbed her upper arm. “One we must learn to control.”
“Who?” Lottie asked. “What is going on?”
Again, she was ignored, and the frustration of it made her want to throw something.
Sebastian straightened. “Shall I send for the commander now?”
The aesran paused thoughtfully. “No, we have guests waiting. Come, Charlotte.”
“Hold on,” Lottie demanded. “I would like some answers.”
Her mother offered the guard a brief glance before turning to Lottie. “As would I, actually. Honest ones, this time. Where did Augustus find the ring? Does he remember what happened?”
Before Lottie could answer, Sebastian reached out his hand and placed it gently on her shoulder. She recoiled from the touch with a scowl.
“Don’t you touch me.”
“His wardrobe,” Sebastian answered plainly. “In his chambers.”
Lottie’s expression dropped, her stomach twisting in a knot. How did he know that?
“It seems,” the guard continued, “he doesn’t remember where it’s from. His surprise was genuine. I believe it was placed there before.”
The realization sent her heart into her throat. “You’re a listener.”
That wasn’t possible. It was a prohibited magic. Her mother would never hire a listener to work in the castle, let alone as her personal guard.
She looked to the aesran, waiting for a reaction, for that same moment of realization. For her to call for his arrest. But there was only cold indifference, a look that confirmed she already knew.
How long had she known? Was it the reason she’d chosen him? To use his magic? But she was the one enforcing the laws. The hypocrisy was glaring, and the unfairness of it burned in Lottie’s chest.
“So, it’s only illegal if it doesn’t benefit you?” she snapped, glare sharpened to a point. “Your laws send other listeners to their deaths. Why is he the exception? Because he’s your puppet?”
Her mother brushed the harsh words away with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Wipe this, Sebastian. I need to return to my guests.”
The aesran turned and headed back to the dining hall, her gown whispering across the marble floor.
Wipe this.
What did that mean?
She didn’t realize Sebastian was moving until his fingertips were against her temple.
Lottie raised her arm to shove him away, and—
She blinked, suddenly overcome with a strange, disorienting dizziness. Her hand fell to her side, and she blinked again. Perhaps she’d had too much wine.
Slow footsteps retreated down the hall, and she glanced around the foyer as the muffled laughter and clinking silverware of the dinner guests continued deeper inside the castle.
She looked down at the circlet, tracing the smooth edges with her thumb, and smiled. She was glad August could get away from the party. Some fresh air would do him well.
As for her, she was looking forward to dancing. Why was she still lingering out here?