We could have lived a nice, safe, boring life. One where the only princesses we ever saw were in picture books and the knights were always brave and good always triumphed over evil. Instead, I picked up a copy of The Chronicles of Nerissette that day in the library, and we’d all ended up here.
Because of me we’d all ended up in a place where queens were trapped inside mirrors, locked away from the kingdom against their will. Where evil sisters could steal your face and lock you in a tower to rot. A place where brave knights were kidnapped and kept away from their families and even the princesses could start killing people at any moment.
“I wish my mother were here,” I said to myself.
“Why?” a sharp, feline voice snapped out from the fireplace, and I turned to stare as flames burst up where there hadn’t been any before. “What good do you think a woman in a coma is going to be when you’ve got a war to fight?”
“Esmeralda?” I gasped as the cat’s form took shape.
“In the flames.” The cat sat down delicately in the fireplace and flicked the tip of her tail, sparks crackling with the movement. “I’m not really here, of course.”
“And?” I hopped off the table and hurried over to kneel beside her, smiling. “What else is new?”
“The Relics,” she said. “Do you have them?”
“I have the First Leaf,” I said.
“And the others?”
“They’re in my crown box with the Orb of the Dryads, hidden inside one of the supply wagons. John of Leavenwald is guarding them. Not that it matters—the things are absolutely useless.”
“They are not!”
“They are so,” I retorted. “It’s a prison that you can bribe your way out of, a crown to keep me alive when the last thing Bavasama wants to do is kill me, and a portal between worlds that no longer does anything more than show you the place you want to go. They’re worthless.”
“That’s only because you don’t know how to use them,” Esmeralda scolded.
“So how do I use them?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What? You mean, you don’t know?”
“Of course I know.” Esmeralda sniffed. “I just can’t tell you. All I can say is that if you plan to protect Nerissette, you must be prepared to sacrifice.”
“I’ve already sacrificed.”
“Not like this,” she said quietly and then began to fade away as I knelt there, staring at her.
“What will I have to sacrifice?” I demanded.
“The one thing that you’ve spent all this time trying to protect,” she whispered, nothing but a pair of brilliant emerald eyes now.
Chapter Twenty-one
I didn’t bother to move from my spot on the table. There was no bed in the room—just a fireplace, a chair, and a table. Oh, and a nasty-looking brown blanket in one corner and a bucket in another. Obviously, one was supposed to be my not-really-a-bed-to-sleep-in and the other was Bavasama’s idea of a toilet.
I briefly considered finding some way to prop the bucket on top of my door so that it tipped over on the next person who came in, but I couldn’t be sure it was going to be Bavasama or the Fate Maker so it didn’t really seem worth it. I mean, after all, dumping a bucket full of crap on one of the maids would just be mean. They hadn’t been the ones to take me hostage.
“Open,” I heard someone command on the other side of the door. I looked up from contemplating the bucket and heard the bolt slide back. The door creaked once, loudly, before opening.
I looked up and found myself staring at Rannock, my aunt’s Grand Vizier. My uncle? I wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to call the guy who was helping my aunt depose me so that she could take my throne.
“Your aunt requests your presence for dinner,” he said.
“Tell her I’m not hungry,” I retorted.
He smiled bitterly at me. “I thought you might say that,” he said quietly. “But the thing is I wasn’t asking.” He stepped aside and then motioned out into the hallway. My doorway filled with large men dressed in rough tunics, all of them wearing the broken crown of Bathune on their chests. “Take her.”
I pushed myself up and started to back away as the three men came into the room, the one at the front rubbing his palms together like hurting me was something he was looking forward to.
“I’m not leaving this room without a fight,” I said.
“That’s what we were hoping for,” one of the men in the back said as they maneuvered so I was pressed into the corner.
The first man stepped toward me, and darted his hand out to grab me. I tried to duck under his arm. The one on the left was quicker than me, though, and snatched me by the back of my collar, lifting me into the air. I swung at him, but he held me far enough away from his body that my fist only grazed his nose. He drew me forward and then slammed his head into mine, his forehead bashing against my nose. I saw stars as blood began to pour down my face.
He let go of me, and I crashed to the floor, my knees giving out as I cradled my face in my hands, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Get up.” The first man clamped his hand down on my wrist. He jerked me to my feet again. “You’re not going to keep Her Majesty the Empress waiting.”
The guards dragged me from the room, one holding on to each arm as the other prodded me from behind. I stumbled down the stairs, the three of them pushing hard enough to make me stumble. Once we reached the main floor, they dragged me across a large stone anteroom before they stopped in front of a set of black double doors with pictures painted on them in gold. The guards pushed me forward, and I saw that the images showed people being tortured in various ways. Near the handle was a man being burned alive and even higher was a scene where a man was being eaten by a large dragon, his mouth hanging open as his body dangled from the creature’s jaws.
“The Golden Rose of Nerissette,” the man who had head butted me said to a small green goblin in red livery who was posted next to the door.
The goblin nodded once and then waved his fingers. The doors creaked open, and I stood in the center of the doorway, my hair matted and my clothes still smeared with mud, reeking like fish, with a guard holding me up on each side and another jabbing a sword into my back from behind.
They shoved me into the long dining room, and I glanced around as they marched me into the center of the room. The walls were a dark blood red, and black candelabras hung from the walls with matching black candles inside. I looked up to see heavy wooden chandeliers with what looked like skulls acting as candleholders as wax dripped down their foreheads and along the sides of the bones.
“Oh, Allie. There you are. What do you think?” Bavasama stood at the head of a long black table loaded down with the roasted carcasses of various beasts. Men and women in black flanked the sides of the table, and I could see that all of them were staring at me in ill-concealed curiosity.
“I think you may have overdone it on the Goth theme. And the welcoming committee.” I jerked my head toward the guard on my right, trying to ignore the way my nose was throbbing in pain.
“Let her go,” Bavasama said to my guards. “But stay close, just in case my niece needs another lesson in manners.”
“What?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “You worried I might kill you if you don’t keep a guard on me?”
“Not in the slightest,” she sneered. “But I’d rather not murder you before I’ve had dessert. It might put my weaker-willed nobles off their dinners.”
“Like your dungeon-style dining room hasn’t put everyone off already?” I looked around pointedly.
“Perhaps.” She shook her head and gave me what I thought was supposed to be her “disappointed” face. “Of course you are like Perfect Preethana in this way, too—all goodness and light.”