Splinter & Ash, page 8
Splinter clasped her hand. “The guard will protect your mother, Ash. They’ll protect your brother too. And I’ll protect you.”
Ash shuffled over so that she could lean against Splinter. “What if someone gets past the guard?”
“Lord Lambelin wouldn’t let that happen,” Splinter said at first. Then her voice grew softer. It barely echoed in the passage around them. “If someone does slip through, your mother is never alone. All the knights in the kingdom are sworn to protect her. They would fight for her, and they would die for her if they had to. For Lucen and you too.” Splinter tilted her head. “And for all that he is impossible, Lucen is the best fighter of all the squires. He can hold his own.”
She bit her lip and visibly mulled over the next words. “And if that isn’t enough, if the stars are unlucky and something goes wrong . . . I will stay by your side, whether you’re angry or sad or hurting or scared.”
“I’m not sure that helps,” Ash admitted, and she felt terrible for it.
Splinter put an arm around her shoulder. “I know.”
She did, at that. Ash knew the war hadn’t been kind to Splinter. It had been a nightmare for so many, but in Byrne, with Aunt Jonet, the war had felt distant. Any threat to her loved ones was only theoretical. Now the threat came with faces she knew, people she talked to. In Haven, the war was real.
Ash leaned in closer. “Just to be clear, I forbid you from letting anything happen to you.”
“Yes, your highness.”
“Stop making fun of me.”
“I would never, O noble princess.”
“Splinter.”
They sat together, huddled around the lantern, in their own small bubble of light in the darkened passage.
Chapter Nine
Ash
“Come on, Ash! Let’s see if you can do better than me!”
Ash ran her fingers across the limbs of the bow and found herself smiling. Mist’s suggestion to shoot together had turned into an official invite for tea and games in the city, which had led to Ash’s first—entirely nerve-racking—visit to the Maronne country estate just outside of Haven, and that was quickly followed by another invite for another visit the following rest day. Today.
Spending time with Mist and Hazel was fun. More than that, it was easy.
During Ash’s first visit to the estate, they’d shared a wintry picnic in the conservatory. Splinter hadn’t been allowed to join them inside, because Lady Maronne thought it wouldn’t be politic, so today all four of them were spending long hours at the archery lanes behind the sprawling mansion. And the girls had promised Ash to take her riding through the city and the hills around Kestrel’s Haven.
They’d said nothing that made them sound disloyal to the crown. They went out of their way to make Ash feel welcome and to include Splinter.
They felt like friends, and it worried Ash.
“One more round before tea!”
Splinter stood to the side of the archery lane and yelled, “Show them what you’ve got, Ash!”
“No one is better than Mist!” Hazel shot back.
Mist hushed them both, laughing.
Ash fixed her eyes on the target and brought the bow up to shoulder height. Her arms and shoulders protested sharply, but as soon as she found her anchor point, everything disappeared. All that was left was the arrow, the bow, and the small blue circle in the center of the straw target.
She squinted, breathed out, and let fly.
The arrow hit the center with a satisfying thud, and to the side, Splinter cheered, her arms raised high. Ash had matched Mist’s accomplishment of hitting the blue circle on all five targets without misses or retries.
“A tie?” She flexed against the pain that had settled inside her wrists and elbows.
“Absolutely not. We’ll do this again next time until one of us wins. Who knows? Maybe with enough time, Hazel and Splinter will catch up to us.” Mist grinned.
“Lord Idian says I’m talented enough.” Hazel scowled at her sister.
“He also says you lack patience,” Mist said.
“Well . . .” Hazel’s voice trailed off, as she was clearly trying to think of a counterargument and coming up empty. She shrugged.
Splinter shook her head. “It’ll be awhile before I’m as good as any of you. I’ll take a sword over a bow any day.”
Mist considered her shrewdly. “I guess you need to excel at sword fighting if you want to be a knight.”
“Exactly.” Splinter smiled, but it was the careful smile she wore when she and Ash crossed paths with any of the other squires at the palace. The type of smile she wore as armor.
Mist faced Ash. “Maybe Lord Idian could take you on as a student too. At least until he returns north.”
“Back to the mountains?” Ash frowned. “I didn’t realize he was only here on leave.”
“He was wounded at the border, and he was sent back home to recover. The old lady, as he calls her, brought in as many physicians and star priests as it took to heal him.”
“I didn’t know,” Ash admitted.
Mist lowered her voice. “I overheard Papa talking to him.”
“What she means is, she was eavesdropping,” Hazel teased.
A shadow flitted across Mist’s face, and she growled. “It’s the only way I can figure out what’s going on. No one ever talks to us. They think we’re too young and the war shouldn’t concern us. Do they think we live with our eyes and ears closed? There are stories about the war on every street corner in Haven, there are rumors at every social gathering. I want to know, otherwise I’m just going to worry.” She scooped up her bow and stalked toward the targets to retrieve the arrows.
Ash stared after her.
“Don’t worry,” Hazel said when Mist was out of earshot. “She just needs a moment to calm down. She has bad dreams a lot.”
“Oh.” Ash rubbed her arms, and she felt Splinter’s attention on her. “That must be really difficult.”
“It was worse when Papa was fighting. No one would tell us what was happening or if he’d come home at all. That’s when Mist’s dreams started.” Hazel tugged at her tunic. “And now Papa has nightmares too. He never really laughs, and he doesn’t want to come shooting with us. He just stays in the library.” Her fingers were curled into tight fists. She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but she settled for, “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. Mist likes having a challenge. And it’s nice not to come in last all the time.”
Hazel directed those last words at Splinter, who tipped an imaginary hat. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry.” Ash tried to gather her scattered thoughts. Mist’s eavesdropping meant she might have overheard just the sort of information Ash had been asked to uncover. This was why she was here. But both girls were hurting. She didn’t know how to navigate that. “I wish the war wasn’t happening.”
Hazel leaned in. “I wish we could end it.”
“We can’t,” Mist said as she returned with her arms full of arrows. She placed them back in their quivers, and she dusted off her hands. Her eyes were suspiciously red.
“Are you okay?” Ash asked.
Hazel silently handed a handkerchief to her sister, who wiped her eyes and face with it. “I’m thirsty. Let’s go inside.” Mist grimaced at Splinter. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to convince Mama to let you join us, but she doesn’t think it’s proper.”
“It’s fine—” Splinter started.
“It’s not,” Mist interrupted fiercely. “But I have an idea.” She stood on tiptoe to look out over the courtyard. “Fenna!”
She waved over a broad mountain of a man, carrying a bundle of spears over one shoulder. “Fenna used to be a guard at the floating docks,” she told Splinter, while Fenna handed the bundle over to a younger guard before ambling in their direction. “He could show you sword tricks. Can’t you, Fenna? You can show Splinter tricks they don’t teach her at the palace. Please?”
Fenna folded his arms. He had kind eyes under bushy eyebrows, and a thick, braided scar ran from the corner of his jaw, across his throat, and down to his shirt. Under his gaze, Splinter blushed furiously, and she fumbled for a sword she didn’t carry.
“Splinter is going to be a knight someday,” Mist declared. “And I think it’s wonderful.” She nudged Splinter with her elbow.
Splinter straightened. “Please. I’ll listen well to everything you can teach me.”
“Please,” Hazel added her voice to the chorus.
“No squire works harder than Splinter,” Ash insisted.
Splinter blushed deeper, and Fenna lifted her chin as if he was looking for something. After a moment, he nodded. He locked eyes with Mist and gestured at her, twisting his fingers into intricate patterns.
Mist laughed delightedly, some of the tension melting from her stance. “You’re the best.” She interpreted for Splinter. “He says the guard has a different approach to sword fighting. He’ll teach you tricks that you can practice on your own.”
“Thank you,” Splinter said. This time, her smile was unguarded and full of wonder.
“I could stay and translate . . . ,” Mist suggested.
Fenna signed something at her, and Mist rolled her eyes.
“Fine. I could stay and translate, but Papa doesn’t want us to spend too much time around weapons, and Fenna says swords are all the language you’ll need.”
“Thank you,” Splinter said again.
Ash squeezed her arm.
“Tell me everything afterward,” Mist told Splinter. “And show the other squires that it isn’t just noble sons who can make a difference.”
Fenna guided Splinter away, while Mist hooked her arms through Ash’s and her sister’s. “Now we can have tea,” she declared, like she couldn’t fix the world, but she could make small bits of it better.
As far as Ash was concerned, she had. Her heart swelled as Splinter and Fenna crossed the courtyard. Her mother’s assignment pressed on her shoulders like the guard’s bundle of spears. The Maronnes were traitors. Maybe. They were unquestionably kind. She smiled despite the uproar in her mind, and she hoped she didn’t look as conflicted as she felt. “Let’s go inside.”
Chapter Ten
Ash
Inside the Maronne estate, the hours passed by with tea and cake and the crackling of the fireplace. Mist and Hazel kept Ash entertained with stories of their favorite midwinter mystery plays at a small theater near the floating docks. When Ash mentioned that she loved the plays but they weren’t a tradition in Byrne, they insisted on bringing Ash along.
“You’ll love it,” Mist said. “You win a silver feather brooch if you’re the first to solve the mystery. We’ve been trying to win one forever.”
“And no offense,” Hazel said, “but Mama will be thrilled to show you off.”
Mist groaned. “She is certain that your companionship is a sign of royal favor. Which is not why we want to spend time with you,” she added.
“Mama thinks it’s an opportunity to move up.”
“Oh.” Ash nibbled at her lip. “She may be disappointed. I don’t think court much likes me.” She hadn’t gone back to any of the social events, telling her mother that she wanted to focus on Hazel and Mist instead. It was a flimsy excuse, but the queen let her get away with it.
“Well, we don’t care about court, and we do like you,” Hazel said. “Please say you’ll come? Between the three of us, we could solve any mystery, I’m sure!”
“I’d have to ask my mother.” Ash hid behind a teacup and glanced through the window to watch Splinter spar with Fenna in the courtyard. As if she could feel her gaze, Splinter waved at the mansion. Ash pulled the corner of her mouth up into a half smile. “But I’d love it. We should practice. Do you have any plays in your library?”
It was a risk, but one she knew she needed to take.
Mist and Hazel shared a look before Mist nodded at her sister. “I don’t think Papa will mind. Can you run ahead and ask him? I’ll show Ash the way.”
Hazel placed her teacup back on the tray and dashed off. Ash took a last sip to calm her nerves. “What she said earlier, about the war . . .”
Mist got to her feet too. “When Papa left to fight, Hazel cried herself to sleep every night. And now she misses him, even though he’s here.” She scowled. “Mama told me not to say anything untoward to you, and I don’t mean any disrespect to the queen, but I hope she finds a way to end the war.”
“I’m not sure that she can,” Ash admitted. “Not without losing half the kingdom to the Ferisian Empire.”
“All the people fighting in the mountains? They’re the kingdom too.” Mist’s face darkened, and Ash realized that Mist’s worries and helplessness were like a bruise that couldn’t heal. Instead, it just hurt.
She placed a hand on Mist’s. “I know.”
Mist held the door open for her. “Maybe you should learn to eavesdrop too. Papa only talks to us about ancient history and old treaties. You could learn what’s actually going on. Aren’t there secret passages in the palace? It’d be an adventure!”
The words settled like ice in Ash’s stomach. “I . . . I think they’re all heavily guarded.”
“I would go exploring all the time. Find every single way in or out. Perhaps the guards have missed passages. Can you imagine?”
Ash leaned on her cane with force. Mist’s excitement sent her head spinning. She could imagine that. She only needed to close her eyes to imagine assassins in the passages, with cruel eyes and crueler blades. “No,” she snapped. “I don’t want that.”
Mist paled. “I’m sorry, your highness, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” Ash managed, through gritted teeth. She rolled her shoulders. “Let’s just go to the library, please.”
In silence, Mist led her up a flight of stairs and toward a pair of intricately carved doors. She picked at her dress, and she cast furtive looks in Ash’s direction, but she didn’t say anything.
Ash, meanwhile, felt every step up the stairs echo in her ankles and knees.
In front of the library, Hazel was talking animatedly to an older man. Lord Maronne had the same thick black hair as his daughters, though his was sticking out in all directions. He was paler than the girls, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He held a notebook clutched under his arm, and absently fiddled with a pen. When Ash approached, he bowed deeply. “Princess Adelisa. You do us great honor spending time with our girls.”
“Lord Maronne.” Ash considered him. He didn’t seem to despise or hate her. If anything, he was sad. She glanced over at Hazel, whose face had fallen, and Mist, who grimaced.
“I understand you want to see my library?”
“If it’s not too much of an imposition.” Aunt Jonet had given her all the phrases of polite society to practice over and over again.
Lord Maronne tousled Hazel’s hair. “You’d be most welcome. These two can show you around.”
Hazel stared up at her father with hope in her eyes, but instead of turning back to his daughter, he bowed again and wandered away. In that moment before she ran inside, Hazel looked like she’d shatter.
Ash’s heart went out to her and Mist both. She disliked lying to them. She hated having to doubt them. That wasn’t the type of princess she wanted to be.
She held out her hand to Mist. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I didn’t mean it. I’m just afraid for my family too.”
“We’ll both do what we can to protect them,” Mist whispered. She clutched Ash’s hand and gave her an awkward hug before pulling her into the library and leaving their harsh words outside.
“Hazy, have you found the plays yet?”
“Stop calling me that!”
Ash gasped when the library opened up to her. Aunt Jonet had a room full of disorganized books in Byrne. The royal archives were filled with scrolls and contracts and charters. But this was a work of love. A rival to the palace library. Endless rows of tall wooden shelves. Countless leather-bound books in all colors, shapes, and sizes.
“Stars,” she whispered. She couldn’t imagine why Lady Maronne had had to bribe her way into the archives, if this is what she had at home.
Hazel called out something from between the bookshelves, but the words didn’t register.
The library was divided into three different sections, separated by shelves. Comfortable chairs were set out in the first section. In the center space, a huge table was covered with maps. Hazel stood on a spindly ladder that led all the way up to the ceiling, and she was pulling out booklets and putting them back with alarming speed. “I’m trying to find The Seventh Star,” she told Mist. “I think it has the best mystery.”
“Only because you guessed it before I did.”
“Can I wander?” Ash asked reverently.
Mist climbed the shelves without the aid of a ladder. “Feel free.”
“Papa doesn’t like us to touch his desk, though,” Hazel added. She overbalanced and the ladder tilted precariously.
“I’ll be careful,” Ash promised. She tiptoed past the table with maps, toward the third section of the library, where a large oak desk took up most of the space. Every available surface drowned under the weight of books, papers, and writing equipment. A blemished and scarred dagger functioned as a paperweight to hold down a stack of notes, and a large mug that had maybe once held cider now held pens, the ink mingling with the remains of the drink.
Ash made note of where Mist and Hazel were clambering on the shelves.
Then she took a deep breath and riffled through the stack of notes. The topmost was a lifelike ink sketch of Mist and Hazel on horseback. The next was a half-finished drawing of Lady Maronne.
“I’ve got it! I think!” Hazel called out.
Something slammed against the floor, and Hazel’s “Oops, never mind!” was followed by Mist’s weary sigh.
“You’ll get yourself killed.”
Ash’s heart hammered. She quickly circled the desk.
She ran her fingers across the spines of books, uncertain what she was looking for, when a stack of three volumes caught her eye. A book on the history of Kestrel’s Reach—the long-lost twin city of Kestrel’s Haven on the Ferisian continent. A Ferisian dictionary. A book titled The Song of the Lark, about one of her ancestors.
Ash shuffled over so that she could lean against Splinter. “What if someone gets past the guard?”
“Lord Lambelin wouldn’t let that happen,” Splinter said at first. Then her voice grew softer. It barely echoed in the passage around them. “If someone does slip through, your mother is never alone. All the knights in the kingdom are sworn to protect her. They would fight for her, and they would die for her if they had to. For Lucen and you too.” Splinter tilted her head. “And for all that he is impossible, Lucen is the best fighter of all the squires. He can hold his own.”
She bit her lip and visibly mulled over the next words. “And if that isn’t enough, if the stars are unlucky and something goes wrong . . . I will stay by your side, whether you’re angry or sad or hurting or scared.”
“I’m not sure that helps,” Ash admitted, and she felt terrible for it.
Splinter put an arm around her shoulder. “I know.”
She did, at that. Ash knew the war hadn’t been kind to Splinter. It had been a nightmare for so many, but in Byrne, with Aunt Jonet, the war had felt distant. Any threat to her loved ones was only theoretical. Now the threat came with faces she knew, people she talked to. In Haven, the war was real.
Ash leaned in closer. “Just to be clear, I forbid you from letting anything happen to you.”
“Yes, your highness.”
“Stop making fun of me.”
“I would never, O noble princess.”
“Splinter.”
They sat together, huddled around the lantern, in their own small bubble of light in the darkened passage.
Chapter Nine
Ash
“Come on, Ash! Let’s see if you can do better than me!”
Ash ran her fingers across the limbs of the bow and found herself smiling. Mist’s suggestion to shoot together had turned into an official invite for tea and games in the city, which had led to Ash’s first—entirely nerve-racking—visit to the Maronne country estate just outside of Haven, and that was quickly followed by another invite for another visit the following rest day. Today.
Spending time with Mist and Hazel was fun. More than that, it was easy.
During Ash’s first visit to the estate, they’d shared a wintry picnic in the conservatory. Splinter hadn’t been allowed to join them inside, because Lady Maronne thought it wouldn’t be politic, so today all four of them were spending long hours at the archery lanes behind the sprawling mansion. And the girls had promised Ash to take her riding through the city and the hills around Kestrel’s Haven.
They’d said nothing that made them sound disloyal to the crown. They went out of their way to make Ash feel welcome and to include Splinter.
They felt like friends, and it worried Ash.
“One more round before tea!”
Splinter stood to the side of the archery lane and yelled, “Show them what you’ve got, Ash!”
“No one is better than Mist!” Hazel shot back.
Mist hushed them both, laughing.
Ash fixed her eyes on the target and brought the bow up to shoulder height. Her arms and shoulders protested sharply, but as soon as she found her anchor point, everything disappeared. All that was left was the arrow, the bow, and the small blue circle in the center of the straw target.
She squinted, breathed out, and let fly.
The arrow hit the center with a satisfying thud, and to the side, Splinter cheered, her arms raised high. Ash had matched Mist’s accomplishment of hitting the blue circle on all five targets without misses or retries.
“A tie?” She flexed against the pain that had settled inside her wrists and elbows.
“Absolutely not. We’ll do this again next time until one of us wins. Who knows? Maybe with enough time, Hazel and Splinter will catch up to us.” Mist grinned.
“Lord Idian says I’m talented enough.” Hazel scowled at her sister.
“He also says you lack patience,” Mist said.
“Well . . .” Hazel’s voice trailed off, as she was clearly trying to think of a counterargument and coming up empty. She shrugged.
Splinter shook her head. “It’ll be awhile before I’m as good as any of you. I’ll take a sword over a bow any day.”
Mist considered her shrewdly. “I guess you need to excel at sword fighting if you want to be a knight.”
“Exactly.” Splinter smiled, but it was the careful smile she wore when she and Ash crossed paths with any of the other squires at the palace. The type of smile she wore as armor.
Mist faced Ash. “Maybe Lord Idian could take you on as a student too. At least until he returns north.”
“Back to the mountains?” Ash frowned. “I didn’t realize he was only here on leave.”
“He was wounded at the border, and he was sent back home to recover. The old lady, as he calls her, brought in as many physicians and star priests as it took to heal him.”
“I didn’t know,” Ash admitted.
Mist lowered her voice. “I overheard Papa talking to him.”
“What she means is, she was eavesdropping,” Hazel teased.
A shadow flitted across Mist’s face, and she growled. “It’s the only way I can figure out what’s going on. No one ever talks to us. They think we’re too young and the war shouldn’t concern us. Do they think we live with our eyes and ears closed? There are stories about the war on every street corner in Haven, there are rumors at every social gathering. I want to know, otherwise I’m just going to worry.” She scooped up her bow and stalked toward the targets to retrieve the arrows.
Ash stared after her.
“Don’t worry,” Hazel said when Mist was out of earshot. “She just needs a moment to calm down. She has bad dreams a lot.”
“Oh.” Ash rubbed her arms, and she felt Splinter’s attention on her. “That must be really difficult.”
“It was worse when Papa was fighting. No one would tell us what was happening or if he’d come home at all. That’s when Mist’s dreams started.” Hazel tugged at her tunic. “And now Papa has nightmares too. He never really laughs, and he doesn’t want to come shooting with us. He just stays in the library.” Her fingers were curled into tight fists. She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but she settled for, “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. Mist likes having a challenge. And it’s nice not to come in last all the time.”
Hazel directed those last words at Splinter, who tipped an imaginary hat. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry.” Ash tried to gather her scattered thoughts. Mist’s eavesdropping meant she might have overheard just the sort of information Ash had been asked to uncover. This was why she was here. But both girls were hurting. She didn’t know how to navigate that. “I wish the war wasn’t happening.”
Hazel leaned in. “I wish we could end it.”
“We can’t,” Mist said as she returned with her arms full of arrows. She placed them back in their quivers, and she dusted off her hands. Her eyes were suspiciously red.
“Are you okay?” Ash asked.
Hazel silently handed a handkerchief to her sister, who wiped her eyes and face with it. “I’m thirsty. Let’s go inside.” Mist grimaced at Splinter. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to convince Mama to let you join us, but she doesn’t think it’s proper.”
“It’s fine—” Splinter started.
“It’s not,” Mist interrupted fiercely. “But I have an idea.” She stood on tiptoe to look out over the courtyard. “Fenna!”
She waved over a broad mountain of a man, carrying a bundle of spears over one shoulder. “Fenna used to be a guard at the floating docks,” she told Splinter, while Fenna handed the bundle over to a younger guard before ambling in their direction. “He could show you sword tricks. Can’t you, Fenna? You can show Splinter tricks they don’t teach her at the palace. Please?”
Fenna folded his arms. He had kind eyes under bushy eyebrows, and a thick, braided scar ran from the corner of his jaw, across his throat, and down to his shirt. Under his gaze, Splinter blushed furiously, and she fumbled for a sword she didn’t carry.
“Splinter is going to be a knight someday,” Mist declared. “And I think it’s wonderful.” She nudged Splinter with her elbow.
Splinter straightened. “Please. I’ll listen well to everything you can teach me.”
“Please,” Hazel added her voice to the chorus.
“No squire works harder than Splinter,” Ash insisted.
Splinter blushed deeper, and Fenna lifted her chin as if he was looking for something. After a moment, he nodded. He locked eyes with Mist and gestured at her, twisting his fingers into intricate patterns.
Mist laughed delightedly, some of the tension melting from her stance. “You’re the best.” She interpreted for Splinter. “He says the guard has a different approach to sword fighting. He’ll teach you tricks that you can practice on your own.”
“Thank you,” Splinter said. This time, her smile was unguarded and full of wonder.
“I could stay and translate . . . ,” Mist suggested.
Fenna signed something at her, and Mist rolled her eyes.
“Fine. I could stay and translate, but Papa doesn’t want us to spend too much time around weapons, and Fenna says swords are all the language you’ll need.”
“Thank you,” Splinter said again.
Ash squeezed her arm.
“Tell me everything afterward,” Mist told Splinter. “And show the other squires that it isn’t just noble sons who can make a difference.”
Fenna guided Splinter away, while Mist hooked her arms through Ash’s and her sister’s. “Now we can have tea,” she declared, like she couldn’t fix the world, but she could make small bits of it better.
As far as Ash was concerned, she had. Her heart swelled as Splinter and Fenna crossed the courtyard. Her mother’s assignment pressed on her shoulders like the guard’s bundle of spears. The Maronnes were traitors. Maybe. They were unquestionably kind. She smiled despite the uproar in her mind, and she hoped she didn’t look as conflicted as she felt. “Let’s go inside.”
Chapter Ten
Ash
Inside the Maronne estate, the hours passed by with tea and cake and the crackling of the fireplace. Mist and Hazel kept Ash entertained with stories of their favorite midwinter mystery plays at a small theater near the floating docks. When Ash mentioned that she loved the plays but they weren’t a tradition in Byrne, they insisted on bringing Ash along.
“You’ll love it,” Mist said. “You win a silver feather brooch if you’re the first to solve the mystery. We’ve been trying to win one forever.”
“And no offense,” Hazel said, “but Mama will be thrilled to show you off.”
Mist groaned. “She is certain that your companionship is a sign of royal favor. Which is not why we want to spend time with you,” she added.
“Mama thinks it’s an opportunity to move up.”
“Oh.” Ash nibbled at her lip. “She may be disappointed. I don’t think court much likes me.” She hadn’t gone back to any of the social events, telling her mother that she wanted to focus on Hazel and Mist instead. It was a flimsy excuse, but the queen let her get away with it.
“Well, we don’t care about court, and we do like you,” Hazel said. “Please say you’ll come? Between the three of us, we could solve any mystery, I’m sure!”
“I’d have to ask my mother.” Ash hid behind a teacup and glanced through the window to watch Splinter spar with Fenna in the courtyard. As if she could feel her gaze, Splinter waved at the mansion. Ash pulled the corner of her mouth up into a half smile. “But I’d love it. We should practice. Do you have any plays in your library?”
It was a risk, but one she knew she needed to take.
Mist and Hazel shared a look before Mist nodded at her sister. “I don’t think Papa will mind. Can you run ahead and ask him? I’ll show Ash the way.”
Hazel placed her teacup back on the tray and dashed off. Ash took a last sip to calm her nerves. “What she said earlier, about the war . . .”
Mist got to her feet too. “When Papa left to fight, Hazel cried herself to sleep every night. And now she misses him, even though he’s here.” She scowled. “Mama told me not to say anything untoward to you, and I don’t mean any disrespect to the queen, but I hope she finds a way to end the war.”
“I’m not sure that she can,” Ash admitted. “Not without losing half the kingdom to the Ferisian Empire.”
“All the people fighting in the mountains? They’re the kingdom too.” Mist’s face darkened, and Ash realized that Mist’s worries and helplessness were like a bruise that couldn’t heal. Instead, it just hurt.
She placed a hand on Mist’s. “I know.”
Mist held the door open for her. “Maybe you should learn to eavesdrop too. Papa only talks to us about ancient history and old treaties. You could learn what’s actually going on. Aren’t there secret passages in the palace? It’d be an adventure!”
The words settled like ice in Ash’s stomach. “I . . . I think they’re all heavily guarded.”
“I would go exploring all the time. Find every single way in or out. Perhaps the guards have missed passages. Can you imagine?”
Ash leaned on her cane with force. Mist’s excitement sent her head spinning. She could imagine that. She only needed to close her eyes to imagine assassins in the passages, with cruel eyes and crueler blades. “No,” she snapped. “I don’t want that.”
Mist paled. “I’m sorry, your highness, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” Ash managed, through gritted teeth. She rolled her shoulders. “Let’s just go to the library, please.”
In silence, Mist led her up a flight of stairs and toward a pair of intricately carved doors. She picked at her dress, and she cast furtive looks in Ash’s direction, but she didn’t say anything.
Ash, meanwhile, felt every step up the stairs echo in her ankles and knees.
In front of the library, Hazel was talking animatedly to an older man. Lord Maronne had the same thick black hair as his daughters, though his was sticking out in all directions. He was paler than the girls, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He held a notebook clutched under his arm, and absently fiddled with a pen. When Ash approached, he bowed deeply. “Princess Adelisa. You do us great honor spending time with our girls.”
“Lord Maronne.” Ash considered him. He didn’t seem to despise or hate her. If anything, he was sad. She glanced over at Hazel, whose face had fallen, and Mist, who grimaced.
“I understand you want to see my library?”
“If it’s not too much of an imposition.” Aunt Jonet had given her all the phrases of polite society to practice over and over again.
Lord Maronne tousled Hazel’s hair. “You’d be most welcome. These two can show you around.”
Hazel stared up at her father with hope in her eyes, but instead of turning back to his daughter, he bowed again and wandered away. In that moment before she ran inside, Hazel looked like she’d shatter.
Ash’s heart went out to her and Mist both. She disliked lying to them. She hated having to doubt them. That wasn’t the type of princess she wanted to be.
She held out her hand to Mist. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I didn’t mean it. I’m just afraid for my family too.”
“We’ll both do what we can to protect them,” Mist whispered. She clutched Ash’s hand and gave her an awkward hug before pulling her into the library and leaving their harsh words outside.
“Hazy, have you found the plays yet?”
“Stop calling me that!”
Ash gasped when the library opened up to her. Aunt Jonet had a room full of disorganized books in Byrne. The royal archives were filled with scrolls and contracts and charters. But this was a work of love. A rival to the palace library. Endless rows of tall wooden shelves. Countless leather-bound books in all colors, shapes, and sizes.
“Stars,” she whispered. She couldn’t imagine why Lady Maronne had had to bribe her way into the archives, if this is what she had at home.
Hazel called out something from between the bookshelves, but the words didn’t register.
The library was divided into three different sections, separated by shelves. Comfortable chairs were set out in the first section. In the center space, a huge table was covered with maps. Hazel stood on a spindly ladder that led all the way up to the ceiling, and she was pulling out booklets and putting them back with alarming speed. “I’m trying to find The Seventh Star,” she told Mist. “I think it has the best mystery.”
“Only because you guessed it before I did.”
“Can I wander?” Ash asked reverently.
Mist climbed the shelves without the aid of a ladder. “Feel free.”
“Papa doesn’t like us to touch his desk, though,” Hazel added. She overbalanced and the ladder tilted precariously.
“I’ll be careful,” Ash promised. She tiptoed past the table with maps, toward the third section of the library, where a large oak desk took up most of the space. Every available surface drowned under the weight of books, papers, and writing equipment. A blemished and scarred dagger functioned as a paperweight to hold down a stack of notes, and a large mug that had maybe once held cider now held pens, the ink mingling with the remains of the drink.
Ash made note of where Mist and Hazel were clambering on the shelves.
Then she took a deep breath and riffled through the stack of notes. The topmost was a lifelike ink sketch of Mist and Hazel on horseback. The next was a half-finished drawing of Lady Maronne.
“I’ve got it! I think!” Hazel called out.
Something slammed against the floor, and Hazel’s “Oops, never mind!” was followed by Mist’s weary sigh.
“You’ll get yourself killed.”
Ash’s heart hammered. She quickly circled the desk.
She ran her fingers across the spines of books, uncertain what she was looking for, when a stack of three volumes caught her eye. A book on the history of Kestrel’s Reach—the long-lost twin city of Kestrel’s Haven on the Ferisian continent. A Ferisian dictionary. A book titled The Song of the Lark, about one of her ancestors.
