“For what destination, Majesty?”
The Queen took a deep breath and yanked her left arm backward, snapping her neck and upper torso forward at the same time. The pain was sudden and excruciating, consuming her entire shoulder in fire, and a scream climbed up the back of the Queen’s throat. But she kept her mouth shut tight, and a moment later there was the satisfying crack of the musculature popping back into place. The pain quickly faded, retreating into a dull ache that could easily be cured with drugs.
The Queen turned back to Juliette, her smile pleasant, although her brow was wet with perspiration. Juliette’s expression was horrified, her face drained of color. The Queen took a step forward, just to see what would happen, and had the pleasure of watching Juliette scuttle backward, almost through the doorway.
“Pack for warm climate and some rough living.”
“Where are we going, Majesty?” Juliette quavered. Had the Queen really found her intimidating a few minutes ago? There was nothing to fear, not from one so young.
“To the front, Julie,” she replied dismissively, moving to look out the western window. “To the Tearling.”
ALL THE WAY up the stairs, Ewen kept his eyes on the Mace’s back. He was scared, but there was no question of not following; Ewen knew that much from Da. When you were summoned by the Captain of Guard, you simply went. The Mace carried a large grey bundle under his arm, and he hadn’t even looked at Ewen since they’d left the dungeon. Worse yet, the Mace had left another jailor to take Ewen’s place while he went upstairs. The new man was not as big as Ewen, but he was certainly smart, with quick eyes that darted around the dungeon. The one remaining prisoner, Bannaker, had completely recovered from his injuries, and Ewen, knowing that Bannaker would be dangerous when fully healed, had moved him to Cell Two. But the first thing the new jailor did was to walk over to Cell Two and check its locks, and this made Ewen angry: as though he would leave a cell unlocked, with a prisoner inside! The new man then sat down at the desk as though he owned the place, putting his feet up, and at that moment Ewen knew that the Queen was going to remove him from his post. He had been a good jailor for almost five years, but the Queen must have found out that he was slow. With each stair that Ewen climbed, he became more sick to his stomach. Their family had been jailors in the Keep forever, all the way back to Da’s grandfather. Da had only given up the job because he could no longer walk. Ewen couldn’t bear to tell Da this news. He felt naked without his ring of keys.
But they did not leave the staircase at the ninth floor, the Queen’s Wing. Rather, they kept on going, several floors up, and the Mace led him into a large room that was lit up like Christmas, more than a dozen torches lining the walls. Two Queen’s Guards, one large and one small, sat in chairs just inside the door, and in the center of the room was a tall cage, but Ewen couldn’t make out what was inside.
“Morning, boys.”
“Good morning, sir,” they both replied, standing up. The smaller man had eyes so light that they seemed white, and they reminded Ewen of the woman Brenna. Three Queen’s Guards had removed her from the dungeon several days ago, which had relieved Ewen no end. Bannaker’s eyes might plot escape every moment, but still he seemed less dangerous than the woman. A witch, Ewen was sure of it, powerful and terrible, just as Da had always described them in stories.
“El. Keys.”
The big guard came forward into the light, and Ewen recognized him now: the man with the scary teeth. He tossed the keys to the Mace, who slammed them against the bars, a metallic clanging that hurt Ewen’s ears.
“Wake up, Arlen! It’s your big day.”
“I’m awake.” A ghostly thin shape unfolded itself from the ground inside the cage, and Ewen recognized the scarecrow. But he was dressed differently now, in a white linen shirt and trousers, and even Ewen knew what that meant: it was the uniform of a prisoner sentenced to death.
“Are you going to behave, Arlen?” the Mace asked.
“I’ve made my bargain.”
“Good.” The Mace unlocked the cage. “Tie him up.”
Ewen was beginning to wonder if the Mace had forgotten that he was there, but now those sharp eyes found him. “You! Ewen! Over here.”
Ewen moved forward, almost tiptoeing.
“Listen carefully, boy, for we haven’t much time.” The Mace pulled the bundle from beneath his arm and shook it out, and Ewen saw that it was a long grey cloak. “You showed great courage in capturing this man, and the Queen is grateful. So today, you will be a Queen’s Guard.”
Ewen stared at the grey cloak, mesmerized.
“You and Elston will transport this prisoner to the New London Circus. Elston is in charge. Your only job is to guard the prisoner, to make sure he doesn’t escape. Do you understand?”
Ewen swallowed, found his throat almost too dry to speak. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Here.” Mace held out the cloak. “Put it on and come help us.”
The deep grey fabric was soft, softer than any clothing Ewen had ever owned. He fastened the cloak around his shoulders, trying to puzzle out what was happening. He knew that he could not be a Queen’s Guard; he was not smart enough. But they were waiting for him beside the cage, so he hurried over and stood at attention. The short guard had already tied the prisoner’s wrists.
“We’re taking him out the Gate.”
“Christ, they’ll slaughter him before she can execute him.”
“Maybe, but she wants to give them a show.”
Together, the three of them marched the prisoner between them, out the door and down the stairs. Here, at least, was something that Ewen understood, lessons learned from years in the dungeon. He kept his eyes on the scarecrow’s back, looking for the smallest twitch, the slightest sign that his prisoner meant to bolt. When the prisoner coughed, Ewen put a quick hand on his arm. As they descended the staircase, Ewen checked the position of his knife, and found it right where it should be, tucked into his belt.
One job, Da had always said, and one job only, Ew: make sure they don’t run. The rest is for someone else.
At the bottom of the stairs, they came around the corner toward the Keep Gate and Ewen saw a group of people on horses. The Queen was there, sitting atop a brown horse, dressed in a long black dress that draped over the horse’s flank. Ewen thought about bowing, then decided not to when the other three guards did not. He might not be a real Queen’s Guard, but he could act like one.
“El, tie him down,” the Mace ordered. “Make sure no one can pull him off.”
Beside the horses was a broad, open wagon. Ewen helped the big guard lift the prisoner into the wagon bed, then climbed in himself, thinking: No one has ever escaped on my watch. He held the idea firmly in his mind as the big guard shackled the scarecrow to the wagon. Ewen had never let a prisoner get free, and it would not happen now. Da was right. The rest was for someone else.
The Keep Gate opened before them, bright sunlight splashing the dark walls. But the sound … Ewen looked out and saw people, hundreds of them, maybe even thousands, waiting beyond the moat. As the bridge lowered, the roar seemed to double in volume. The sound was frightening, and it hurt Ewen’s ears, but then he reminded himself that he was a Queen’s Guard, and Queen’s Guards were not frightened. He stood up straight, grasping the side of the wagon for balance as it began to roll.
It took Ewen only a few minutes to figure out what all the noise was about: the scarecrow. They screamed his name, Thorne, mixing it in with curses and threats. Many people threw things: eggs, fruit, even a fresh lump of dog shit that narrowly missed Ewen and landed in the bed of the wagon. Ewen wished he had been able to ask Da what the scarecrow had done, but Da was far too sick to visit the dungeons now. Ewen hadn’t seen him in several weeks.