16. Dagmara
The trip to Ilusauri was arduous and long. In total, it took a few weeks, departing from the eastern port city Bergclow. Dagmara thought she would get seasick on the boat that took her to the Mad King’s kingdom. Each day was filled with more Ilusaurian words, but every time Urszula quizzed her, she felt like she retained no information. How was she supposed to impersonate Magda if she couldn’t speak Ilusaurian fluently? All the guardians learned every language.
The sun was sweltering, and Dagmara spent most time in her cabin on the boat lying down, her legs propped up. She missed the cool air of Azurem. She missed Bogdan and Aleksy. The onslaught of grief surprised her, and she buried it deep next to the grief for her mother.
Her mother…caught and tortured to death while preserving secrets for the king of Azurem. What if Dagmara was caught for impersonating Magdalena? She would take Magda’s secrets to the grave, that was her only option.
She would not meet the same fate as her mother. Teos needed her.
If she could find a way to convince the Mad King to send a shipment of medicine to Azurem, then everything would be worth it. She had to save Teos. There was no other option. Even if she had to steal the medicine from Ilusauri herself.
Besides, she was impersonating Magda. She had to channel Magda’s courage and spontaneity.
If only Dagmara could be as naive to the world’s dangers as her friend.
After disembarking the ship in the small port town of Elsynoire, which was a stark first impression of Ilusauri, Dagmara was even more unstable on her feet than before. Stiffness radiated through her limbs, and pain laced through her shoulders. She was used to her body aching for no reason, but it was worse today. She could never anticipate when she would have a good or poor day.
The port was eerily dead, with no other ships entering or exiting. A light drizzle fell from above, and the air was foggy. She kept her hood up, concealing her face from the Azuremi knights that accompanied them. They couldn’t know she and Magda had swapped. She also couldn’t let the rain wash out the temporary silver-tinted spray in her hair.
Ahead, a group was waiting for them, flanked by an Ilusaurian carriage. Had the Mad King come to greet her? A shiver ran up Dagmara’s spine.
“Let me speak with them,” one of the Azuremi knights said, taking the lead to address the Ilusaurian guards.
Dagmara stood still beside Urszula. Her throwing stars were already sewn into a hidden pouch on her corset, and she knew she had her poisons and potions stored underneath her makeup case as a disguise.
Then a female Ilusaurian guard stepped forward, clearing the distance between her group and Dagmara’s entourage. She was beautiful, appearing in her late twenties, and she remained professional with her arms behind her back. She was tall and muscular, with piercing eyes and dark skin, and her brown hair was cropped short. Weapons lined her armor from her corset to her boots.
“Princess,” she said with a thick accent, giving a small bow. “I’m Martine D’Aramie. I’ve been entrusted to accompany you to the Ilusaurian Castle. I can be your translator, advisor, or guide. Anything you need at the castle, I will be by your side.”
Someone to watch my every move. Dagmara fought to keep her thoughts silent. For all she knew, Martine was here to kill her, and that would be the end of her time in Ilusauri. She wouldn’t have even made it across the border. If Martine wanted her dead, she would be. It was better to earn her trust and learn anything she could about the king in advance.
“Join me in my carriage for the rest of the ride?” Dagmara asked.
Martine nodded. “As you wish, princess.”
One of the Ilusaurian guards opened the carriage, and Dagmara climbed in alongside Urszula and Martine. It was a tight space, and she could feel her knees against both of theirs. Before long, they were moving once more.
“Urszula and I were just talking about what the castle will be like,” Dagmara said, taking the moment as an introduction. “I’m sure you know all about it.”
“Yes, I have been there for many years,” Martine replied.
It wasn’t much. Dagmara would have to pry information out of her.
“And the king? What is he like?”
Martine’s solid expression faltered slightly, but it was impossible to tell whether it was just from a bump in the road. “He is our guardian,” she responded without any inflection in her voice.
Dagmara was about to press for more when the window caught her gaze. They were passing by what looked to be a field, but it was brittle and gray. Only portions of the vegetation were visible and still seemed to have a coating of dust on them. It was almost as if a fire had torn through the town, but left everything standing. It made no sense.
Another field came into view, and the grass was yellow and brown. Gaunt cows were scattered across the landscape, but there were no other animals in sight.
Then the carriage passed by a row of homes. Children played with the mud in the street, and those old enough to take on heavy labor struggled to repair holes in their houses.
That’s when a series of shouts broke out. The overlap of the screams made it indecipherable. Dagmara couldn’t translate quickly enough.
Then a rock smacked against the glass window. A gasp escaped Dagmara’s lips as she scooted back in surprise.
Martine slid the curtain shut, covering Dagmara’s view of the outside. “I think it is best to leave this closed until we get to the castle.” Her voice was surprisingly calm.
All Dagmara could do was nod.
After a long, silent ride, the carriage pulled underneath a metal gate with the royal crest of Ilusauri: a black diamond stamped with a silver, iron-clad bear.
The carriage jolted to a halt.
“We’re here,” said Martine.
Dagmara nodded. She adjusted her clothing and flipped her braid to the front of her shoulders. Then she rolled her shoulders back and held her chin in the air, attempting to embrace as much of Magda’s persona as possible.
When she stepped out of the carriage, Dagmara stood in front of a towering castle, both elegant and menacing due to its sheer size. Its outer walls were built of light-colored stones, and vines snaked along them, displaying silver and purple flowers. The rectangular, three-story building was marked with symmetrical wings on each side of the main entrance; its square windows were perfectly spaced out. Directly above the front door was a balcony overlooking a front garden and a fountain.
Dagmara turned behind her to admire the garden. Between the castle and the gated entrance, were beds of pastel roses, in colors that Dagmara had never seen before. They were in perfect bloom, despite the overcast and brisk weather. The fountain in the center appeared magical, as if the water sparkled like diamonds in the sun, although there was no sun peeking through the clouds today. To Dagmara’s right, she noted that the castle stood on the outskirts of a purple field of lilacs, stretching as far as the eye could see.
If this was how the Mad King lived, no wonder his subjects hated him. They were dying in ash-ridden villages and their crops had turned to blight.
“This way,” said Martine. She led Dagmara through a checkpoint of four guards and through the front gates. The Ilusaurian castle was drastically different from what she was used to. Instead of the calming pastel colors that decorated her home, black and silver spanned the entirety of the room, making it appear smaller. There were reflective panels along the wall that weren’t quite mirrors, but blurred where the room started and ended.
Then, a woman nearly fifty years old began to descend the staircase, flanked by four guards. Her black hair was swept up into a tight bun and fastened with a metallic headband. Long pieces of whimsical, silver fabric draped from her wrists and connected to the back of her shoulders, giving the illusion that she was floating down the staircase.
Dagmara knew Claude had killed his parents eight years ago, so this couldn’t be his mother. She racked her brain with all the knowledge she had studied for this exact moment.
“Your Highness,” the woman said, giving a subtle nod of her head, then she started to speak in Ilusauri, her words too fast for Dagmara to piece together.
Dagmara stared blankly, her mind reeling. This was why she had studied on the entire trip. She thought she was ready. She knew Ilusauri well enough to hold a conversation, so why was her mind drawing a blank now?
The woman’s lips thinned. “I thought they taught princesses to speak foreign languages,” she said, now speaking Dagmara’s native language. “I guess the education in Azurem is lacking. Lucky for you, His Majesty speaks seven languages.”
Embarrassment raced through Dagmara, but she didn’t have a chance to respond.
The woman repeated her introduction in Azuremi, “I’m Madame Annette Beaumont, advisor to both the King and Captain of the royal guard.”
Was she referring to Sabien? They still didn’t know that he was dead? Or had he already been replaced?
Annette continued, “I have worked here for over thirty years and anything you should need will be run by me.”
“Magdelena Krol,” Dagmara said, giving a soft curtsy and growing uneasy. If Annette truly worked at the castle for thirty years, she had to have worked with Claude’s parents whom he murdered.
“I know,” Annette replied with no humor in her voice. She then acknowledged Urszula. “Her baggage?”
“It is in the carriage out front, milady.”
“Wonderful.” She made a gesture, and the four guards surrounding her began to exit, no doubt heading toward the carriage. Annette continued, “His Majesty has summoned you upon arrival. I will escort you to see him now. Alone, I might add.” Annette fired a razor sharp glare at Urszula.
“Yes, Madame,” Dagmara said before adding a smile, “I have been looking forward to meeting him.”
Annette eyed Dagmara from head to toe before finally saying, “Hmm.”
Then she whirled on her heel and stalked away, expecting Dagmara to follow. Quickly, Dagmara flashed a goodbye glance to Urszula before scampering forward to follow Annette.
As they made their way through the castle, Dagmara was fascinated by her surroundings. Mirrors were plastered on every wall, creating reflections everywhere, and the illusion that each space was bigger than the last. Everything was gilded with silver, but its bright metallic shine was almost unnatural.
Being in the Ilusaurian castle reminded Dagmara of her missions as an assassin for King Bogdan. There had been many times where she had to infiltrate a new place, or go to a location she was completely unfamiliar with, but she had always done so in secret or by blending in. Never in her life had she been in such a public position—so vulnerable and so easily scrutinized for any mistake she could make. It made this mission all the more precarious.
Each room they passed through, Dagmara counted at least three more guards. This place was heavily protected, and each new doorway was blocked by an armed man or woman. It would not be easy to snoop around without being noticed.
“You’re quite different than I recall,” Annette stated.
“Recall?”
“We still have your family portrait from years ago. Before Azurem cut ties with Ilusauri, as you know.”
Dagmara stiffened. “Well, that was a decade ago. I have matured since then.”
Annette side-eyed Dagmara’s figure before returning her attention to the path in front of them. “Yes, clearly. I didn’t expect you to be so…filled out.”
Dagmara’s heart dropped in her chest. “Artists can do anything. Maybe you should get a portrait commissioned sometime. I’m sure the artist could even make you look beautiful.”
Annette whirled to face Dagmara and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop in her tracks. “You would be wise to watch your tongue around the king. He is short tempered.”
Dagmara already feared meeting the king. Now, having his royal advisor give a sharp warning only made Dagmara even more fearful.
Taking Dagmara’s silence as resignation, Annette continued, this time at a brisker pace.
The entrance to the royal wing was far different than Azurem’s. Instead of an elaborate cascade of waterfalls, the walkway was made entirely of mirrors. The walls, floor, and even ceiling were reflective, making the dozen chandeliers and guards feel infinite. Unease crept through Dagmara’s entire body. She could barely walk straight or find the next door amid the chaos.
Then they stopped at a black door, lined in silver. Annette raised her hand and pounded against the frame. “Princess Magdalena has arrived,” she announced, nearly shouting.
There was a moment of silence that stretched on forever. Finally, Dagmara heard one word, crisp and terrifying:
“Enter.”
Annette gave Dagmara a smile, though it wasn’t kind. “Good luck, Your Highness.”
Dagmara swallowed the lump in her throat. Letting out a deep breath, she reminded herself why she was here. She was saving Magda. She was getting medicine for her brother. She would find proof that Claude killed Bogdan and Aleksy, and that would be the end of this ruse. She didn’t fear Claude because he was a murderer—she feared he would discover her true identity.
And what if he didn’t kill her if he found out? He would know she wasn’t a guardian, and he could use his mind powers on her, torturing her.
Shuddering, Dagmara shoved everything from her mind as she entered the room to meet the King of Ilusauri.