I awoke to the sounds of distant explosions, not sure, at first, if it was nothing more than the remnants of a dream—fitful visions of sea squalls, fire balls, gunfire, and the weight of an ocean pressing against my lungs, drowning me in deep, black waters. But the lingering cobwebs of my nightmares disappeared the moment I opened my eyes and saw that the space Jackie had formerly occupied was now empty.
I sprang to my feet, cursing. “Where in the Shadowlands has that damned Magician gone?”
“What...?” Brigette said, her voice thick from sleep. She sat up, rubbing her eyes as she glanced around the one-room hut, searching the corners as if Jackie might have hidden himself behind a broom or a chair. “I... it’s possible... perhaps I lost my hold on him in the night. He’d been straining against his bonds all evening. I was too tired—”
I waved my hand, dismissing her apology. “Even you, Brigette, are allowed the occasional moment of weakness.”
Gideon burst through the doorway, and only then did I realize he wasn’t still sleeping under the covers on our floor pallet. “I think it’s safe to say the Council has arrived. Fallstaff’s under attack.”
Another distant detonation punctuated his statement.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to patrol.”
“What are we going to do?” Brigette asked.
“I am going to go fight for my kingdom.” I squatted on the floor and slipped on my boots. “But the rest of you.... I’m offering you one more chance to leave.” Malita had sat up and was retying her scarf around her hair. I caught her gaze and held it. “A queen has the right to ask, right? Just as you all have the right to accept. Or refuse.” I switched my focus to Niffin, whose face was a bit puffy and slack from sleep, but his violet eyes turned sharp under my attention. “Will you stay and fight with me?” Finally, I turned to Gideon. Warmth had turned his granite eyes to the soft gray of the fogs and mists on the Inselgrish moors. “This country is not your homeland. None of you are natives. This is not your war, and I am not your queen.”
I finished tying up my boots, stood, and clenched my hands together over my heart. “Le Poing Fermé doesn’t take prisoners. According to Gideon, they’ve killed anyone who challenges their authority. If you fight with me, you’re all risking your lives. I’m not sure—” My throat clenched, words catching on my dry tongue. I swallowed. Swallowed again. “If anything happens to any of you, I’m not sure how I’ll live with knowing you died fighting for me. So now’s your chance. If you want to leave...” I motioned to the door. “That you’ve been by my side this long is more than I could have ever hoped for. It’s hard for me to ask any of you for more.”
Gideon answered by snorting and rolling his eyes. Niffin shook his head, pursed his lips, and flopped back to the floor, pulling the covers over his head and pretending to snore. Malita continued arranging her scarf as if I hadn’t just poured out my greatest fears.
Brigette stood and clapped melodramatically. “Nice speech. But you might want to think about hiring a professional for the next one. If you were hoping to talk us into leaving, then you should know your skills of persuasion could use some work.”
I huffed, folding my arms over my chest. “This isn’t a joking matter.”
She chuckled. “Then quit being so funny.”
Before I could protest, the hut door swung open, and Gerda stepped in, bringing a cloud of mouthwatering odors with her. She shoved aside Gideon’s crossbow and bandoliers, plopped a huge basket on the table, and set her hands on her hips. “I heard the commotion. I’ve packed you breakfast for the road.”
Brigette peeked into the hamper, selected a blueberry muffin, and consumed the whole thing in two huge bites. Dread and fear had already filled my stomach, weighting it as though I’d swallowed a boulder.
Gerda frowned at me. “Figured you might not have much of an appetite, my dear, but try your best. You can’t face your enemies on an empty stomach.”
“In the history books it will say...” Brigette waved her second muffin like a baton. “And the ill-fated insurrection against Le Poing Fermé might have succeeded, if the pretender queen had but listened to her nursemaid and eaten a nutritious breakfast. But alas, her empty stomach resulted in her premature defeat.”
“Better than the history books saying I failed because I was too busy throwing up.” Because I could no longer keep my hands from shaking and craved a distraction, I gathered Adaleiz’s tack and went out to saddle her.
A thin mist hovered close to the ground, filling the clearing, and a thick layer of clouds blotted out the stars. If I had to guess, dawn was not too far away, but the weather made it impossible to know for sure without a clock, and it seemed the gamekeeper hadn’t felt the need to keep one in his hut. The atmosphere felt heavy and full of dread, a reflection of my current mood. Clicking my tongue, I called the horses over.
Gideon, now bristling with weapons and ammunition, joined me, carrying Wallah’s saddle and bridle. “This isn’t our first fight, Evie. Don’t overthink it. You’re stronger than you’ve ever been.”
“I’m fighting a stronger foe than I’ve ever fought too.” Adaleiz held still as I arranged her blanket and settled the saddle on her back.
Niffin moseyed outside, toting Kosha’s gear. He blew a high, piercing whistle. Moments later his horse trotted out of the gloom and stopped at his side. “So... are we really doing this?”
“Yes.” I tightened the girth. “We need to use the Council’s attack to our advantage.”
Movement in the hut’s doorway drew my attention. Brigette stood at the threshold. “If we can get close enough, it’s possible I can grab Faercourt’s reins again before he knows it.”
“If he hasn’t taken off the necklace,” Gideon said.
“How’s your djageesh supply?” I asked.
She reached into her cloak pocket and retrieved her tin. A flame flickered to life at the tip of her fingers. She lit a cigarette, inhaled, and exhaled a thin stream of foul smoke. Then she winked at me. “It’s good to go.”
My grandfather’s spirit stirred, as though waking from a deep sleep. Her confidence is inspiring, he said. You could learn a little something from that girl.
I think it’s just an act. She’s as scared as the rest of us.
Of course she is. Ninety-nine percent of confidence is pretending. Pretend until you’ve convinced everyone, including yourself.
Malita squeezed past Brigette and handed Niffin a muffin. She had changed out of her usual flowery gowns, choosing, instead, to dress like me. She wore a pair of dark riding knickers, tall boots, and a long blousy shirt belted at the waist. Brigette, I realized, was dressed similarly. I examined my own clothes, the same black pants I’d worn for two days and Jackie’s wrinkled shirt. At least I wouldn’t mind getting blood on them.
“Brigette, are you riding with me?” I asked.
She huffed. “I should really look into getting myself a horse.”
Gideon, Niffin, and Malita mounted up as Gerda strode into the yard. “Leaving without saying goodbye, my girl?”
“Goodbyes are for people who won’t be seeing each other for a while. I plan to see you again very soon.” How was that for pretend confidence, Grandfather?
She smiled, full cheeks plumping. “At least give me a hug. I’ve been in short supply since we parted.”
I hurried over to her and threw my arms around her thick waist. She hugged me, enclosing me in warmth and softness. She smelled of yeast and comfrey.
“I believe in you, my dear. I always have, and I’m not the only one. Your father—” Her voice broke, and she paused to collect herself. “He would be so, so proud of you.”
