“Nicely handled,” Victor tells James after we sit down. To me, he says, “You need to be careful, Willie. Anton and Jaromil are regulars here, and are rarely up to any good.”
“I overheard them talking,” I say hesitantly. “Something about a job at the docks? On the night of the masquerade—something that a Galandrian needed help with,” I say, careful, as I have been the last two days, to shorten my vowels, and sound more Kyrenican.
Victor considers this. “Could be working with a Galandrian trader.”
“But I thought Kyrenica and Galandria do not trade with each other?” I say, surprised.
“Not officially, no—though that will soon change, with the new treaty. But a lot of illegal trading still occurs. It’s a profitable business, for those willing to risk it.”
I nod, and wonder if Lord Royce—the Guardian of Trade—is aware of this. I relax a little. I suppose it makes sense; perhaps Anton and Jaromil and their companions intend to trade goods on the night of the masquerade, while the city is preoccupied.
Victor gestures about the noisy inn and resumes the earlier conversation. “The Masked Princess has just arrived in the city and already it’s a circus. I’m surprised Galina didn’t talk more sense into you girls. Go meet Kyra, if you must. You can watch the princess wave from the balcony, and then you come immediately back here.”
James laughs. “Victor, Willie is your tenant, not your—” He breaks off, and the color drains from his face. “I mean”—he stammers—“I only meant that—”
“It’s all right,” Victor replies gruffly with a wave of his hand.
I look between the two of them, unsure what is going on. “I appreciate your concern,” I say to Victor.
Victor nods. “James is right, though. I can’t tell you what to do. But”—he looks pointedly at James—“as my employee, I can tell you to do whatever I want. If Willie is determined to see the princess then you will accompany her there and back.”
I expect James to protest, but instead, he smiles at me and says, “I’d like that. Very much.”
Outside the inn, the streets are festive and several groups of people laugh and jest as they head toward the castle. The city smells of fish, and a chilly, briny wind blows up the street.
“What was going on between you and Victor earlier?” I ask James as we walk. “Did you offend him somehow?”
James’s smile fades. “No, but I’m a fool.” He rakes his hand through his messy hair and continues. “Victor was a general for King Ezebo once, and as fierce as they come. Stories are still told about him to this day. But about ten years ago he returned from a border skirmish to find his wife and four girls dead. They’d gotten sick with the fever, see? That kind of loss, it changes a man, to lose his wife and daughters.”
I nod, though I want to tell him that some men are not nearly so attached to their family. Some men choose to lose their daughters.
“And now, whenever he sees a girl by herself he tries to help her. He’s gotten a bit of a reputation in the city for having a soft heart. It drives Galina and some of the other merchants mad.”
The streets become more packed as we make our way toward the castle. When we push through a particularly crowded section, James places his hand on the small of my back and I flinch.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, removing his hand. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” I answer just as quickly. “I only—”
I stop, because how can I explain? Except for the few times Patric and I held hands, few people have ever willingly touched me.
I am searching for something to say to ease the awkwardness that has sprung up between us, when James says, “Look, the broken statue is up there.”
I follow his gaze and gasp. I had assumed “the Broken Statue” was an inn or a tavern. But now I see Kyra had been speaking literally.
Standing in the middle of the street rising up over the passersby is a white stone statue of my great-great-grandmother Rowan, much like the one that stands in the Queen’s Garden in the Opal Palace. Except this statue is indeed broken. Queen Rowan’s head lies on the ground before the rest of the statue’s body, as though someone beheaded her.
“Willie? Are you okay?” James says.
I nod. I suppose to everyone else, the broken statue is just a monument, or a meeting place. But to me, it’s a reminder of the bad blood between the Strassburgs and the Andewyns.
“Hi, Willie!” Kyra appears. Her eyes stray to James. “Have you bought candles yet?”
“Not yet,” James answers. He turns to me. “I’ll go and get ours.” He points to a nearby vendor and leaves.
“Candles? For what?” I ask Kyra.
“To light at the castle gates, of course.” She grins slyly. “So, you and James?”
I blink. “Me and James . . . what?”
Kyra rolls her eyes. “He walked you here and he’s buying you candles? He likes you, Willie.”
“No, you misunderstand,” I say, although I can feel my cheeks coloring. “Victor told him to accompany me. He said he didn’t want me walking alone.”
“Yeah,” Kyra says, a smile pulling at her lips. “I’m sure Victor had to twist his arm.”
James returns and we set off. A large crowd has already gathered in front of the castle. James lights our candles from a woman standing nearby and soon the street glows with light.
Everywhere people are crying out, appealing to King Ezebo to let them see the Masked Princess.
“Look!” Kyra cries. “The doors to the balcony are opening.”
Several guards bearing torches step out onto the balcony. After a moment—where it seems the whole world is holding its breath, the door opens again, and the Masked Princess—Elara—emerges.
I gasp. It’s like looking at an image of the girl I once was. Can that really be only a few days ago? She wears a golden gown and one of my newer masks, the gilded one with the fire opals, which glows with streaks of red, orange, and yellow. With the torchlight glinting off her jewels and the sun setting behind the castle, dusting the sky in bright shades of orange and pink, she truly does seem unearthly.
So this is what it’s like, I think, listening to the excited shouts of the people around me. This is what it’s like to be on the other side of the balcony.
My eyes stray to the front of the gates, and that’s when I see him:
Garwyn.
He is not watching Elara like everyone else; his eyes are sweeping over the crowd. Now that I look, so are two of the other guards I traveled with, though I have forgotten their names. Garwyn and his men are wearing street clothes, which seems odd. I distinctly remember hearing Lord Quinlan say they were to remain at the castle serving King Ezebo for as long as he saw fit, and then return immediately to Galandria.
Just then, a younger girl joins Elara on the balcony.
“Look, it’s Princess Ruby,” Kyra says.
The smaller girl steps in front of Elara and begins blowing kisses, and the crowd laughs and applauds.
“The Masked Princess seems to be getting on well with the royal family,” Kyra remarks.
“Very well,” I answer. Whatever Elara has said or done these last few days seems to have endeared her to the Strassburgs. She certainly doesn’t look as though she is merely enduring pretending to be me.
A chill slides down my back and I shudder. What if she is doing more than just pretending and waiting for me to return? I know she wanted to find a new life. What if, in fleeing the castle, I handed her the opportunity she was looking for?