CHAPTER THREE

Shadow

I COULDN’T STAY. AS SOON as Caledon unmasked the Grand Prince, a group of the queen’s soldiers appeared out of nowhere. When I finally return from Baer long after dark, my mind is awhirl.

As soon as I step onto the gravel walkway by the herb garden, my legs start to give out beneath me. It’s tempting to just collapse and sleep outside where I fall. But I make it past the apiary yard, with its rows and rows of beehives, and approach the house. It’s dark aside from a pale yellow glow in one window—my aunts’ bedroom. They probably did a locus spell to find my location, and have been following my trek home ever since. Could have sent a horse. I suppose they think making me walk home is a punishment I deserve.

Even though they probably know I’m home, I still slip inside the back door of the cottage and tiptoe through the kitchen. It’s almost the middle of the night.

I climb the stairs to my cozy attic room as quietly as I can, avoiding the seventh step because it creaks loudly enough to wake a bear from hibernation, and finally flop onto my fluffy bed, managing to kick off my boots and nothing else. I’ll regret it in the morning when I have to wash the dirt out of my bedding, but for now, I care about nothing but lying here undisturbed.

But I can’t ignore what happened today. Visions of Caledon and the grand prince flash in my mind. The prince was trying to kill me! And he was wearing an Aphrasian mask. Did that mean he was a traitor to the crown? I owe Caledon a debt of gratitude I could never repay—and yet, I can’t tell anyone he saved me! Still, guilt pulls at me—what if Caledon is punished for killing the prince? I have to do something. I have to say something.

The house is unnaturally silent, which means my aunts are listening to my every move. I tense, waiting to hear their footsteps on the staircase, but they never come.

Finally, I hear them whispering in their bedroom. I try to eavesdrop but I’m too tired to make much of an effort. Besides, the obstruction spell they cast over their room usually keeps me from hearing anything they say in there anyway. I wonder what, if anything, they already know about where I’ve been, and if they think my return means they’ve won our earlier argument. That I’m resigned to give up on the Guild.

As exhausted as I am, sleep will not come now. The events of the day repeat in my mind over and over again: Caledon Holt; the Grand Prince Alast; the argument about my future that led me to venturing off toward Baer Abbey in the first place. The mysterious pull toward it, the visions from the willow tree . . . I wish I could tell my aunts about all of it, except then I’d have to explain that I’d been to the abbey and admit the danger I was in.

Despite the flurry of thoughts crowding my mind, at some point I do drift off, because next thing I know, I’m waking up to the sounds of roosters crowing and pots banging downstairs. Aunt Mesha is making her morning oatmeal. My stomach growls. I hope we have molasses for it, and not just honey. And fresh cream.

I pull a pillow over my head. I’m not sure if my aunts went to bed at all; I hear their voices drift upstairs. They think I’m still sleeping, though—they’re not making much of an effort to cover their words.

I hear Aunt Mesha say, “We can’t let her—”

But Aunt Moriah interrupts her. “If she goes anyway, then what would we do? Do you want that?”

“Is it really our responsibility that she—?”

“How can you say such a thing? You know that it is!”

I hear a spoon being stirred angrily against a teacup before being slammed down on the table. “It has been quite a few years since we were her age, but if you recall, little can be done once a young mind is determined . . . Maybe if . . .” Aunt Mesha’s voice trails off.

I roll over and push myself out of bed. My arms and legs ache something awful from the day before. My neck is stiff; my shoulders hurt. I have tiny scratches all over my hands. I’m afraid to check my reflection. I’m sure I look even worse than I feel. And I’m supposed to go into town today to sell honey too.

They’re going to ask questions when I go down to the kitchen. I could tell them about the jaguar, I suppose, but not the rest. They’d certainly never believe I accidentally found myself at Baer Abbey, and that I was accidentally attacked, and that it was pure coincidence that Caledon Holt, whom I’ve so openly admired, happened to be there at precisely the right moment. How can I make them believe it was all by chance? They will most certainly think I tracked Caledon down in an attempt to persuade him to take me on as a Guild apprentice. There’s no other reasonable explanation for my actions.

Avoiding the small mirror on the wall, I peel off my filthy shirt and torn black pants—completely ruined—and attempt to wash up a bit, using what’s left of the clean water I brought up the day before. I comb out my long hair as best I can, removing a few twigs and leaves as I do so, and wrap it in a low bun. That feels better. I pull a clean linen shift over my head and step into a soft brown skirt, then lace my leather bodice over it. Presentable enough. I tie on an apron and slide clogs on my feet.

My aunts stop talking when they hear me clunking down the wooden staircase. I hear spoons stirring in cups, and an egg crack, then sizzle as it hits the pan.

“Good morning,” I say, coming through the doorway.

Neither returns the greeting. My aunts stare at my face before glancing down at my hands. Then they exchange a look with each other. They don’t seem angry. I’m not sure how to read their mood, actually. Worried, for sure. Also frustrated. Perhaps a little sad? They definitely haven’t slept much—both are wearing nightclothes and Aunt Moriah’s hair is still wrapped up. Aunt Mesha has her usual loose braid hanging down her back, the way she wears her hair day and night.

I go about my morning routine as if nothing has happened, waiting to see if either of them will speak, or if the incident will just blow over and be forgotten. I choose a chipped teacup from the shelf and sprinkle dried herbs inside. My aunts continue to watch me, and I pretend not to notice. I add a generous dose of turmeric to the cup, for the aches. I grab a mitt, pull the kettle off the fire, and fill the cup, then replace the kettle.

I begin to wonder if I should wait for the tea to steep here or if I should take it outside when Aunt Moriah finally says, “We need to talk, child.”

Aunt Mesha springs into action, fussing with canisters, opening and closing them as if looking for something. She settles on the honey jar, begins adding dollop after dollop to her bowl of oatmeal. Her hands are shaking.

I nod before taking a sip of the too-hot, still-watery tea. I don’t want to offer any information or ask any questions that may lead to subjects I don’t have any desire to discuss right now.

“Mesha? Do you want to . . . ?” Aunt Moriah begins.

Aunt Mesha slams down the honey spoon. “Oh! Absolutely not, and you know that very well.”

“What is going on?” I ask. Their behavior is starting to alarm me. I can sense this is about more than where I disappeared to yesterday.

“Well . . . ,” Aunt Moriah says.

Aunt Mesha bursts into tears. “I just don’t understand how this all happened so fast!”

“Calm down, Mesha. You’re scaring her.”

“Honestly, yes, you both are,” I say. Something terrible occurs to me. Are they marrying me off? Some of the tea splashes from the cup. I put it down on the table and wipe my hand on my skirt.

Mesha wipes her face with her apron. “We received this today, a letter from your mother and orders from the palace. You are to take your place by your mother’s side at court.”

I read my mother’s short note and the official document.

TO MAIDEN SHADOW OF THE HONEY GLADE, NIR,

IN THE KINGDOM OF RENOVIA

HRM Lilianna, Queen Regent of Renovia,

requires your presence at the court of Violla Ruza

I wanted my mother to call for me, but not like this. I had told her as much during her last visit. I had told her to send me to the Guild. I know I’ve been spirited at times, but over the years I’ve been a compliant daughter, always willing to listen and learn, and this is how I’m treated on the cusp of adulthood—with complete disregard for my own wishes? I am eighteen years old. I am old enough to marry, to have a life of my own.

Then it occurs to me: That is exactly why this is happening now.

And I cannot defy orders from the queen.

“We are so proud of you,” says Aunt Mesha.

“Your mother is so proud of you,” says Aunt Moriah.

I’m sure they think it’s a wonderful honor to accompany my mother at court. Every little girl’s dream. Except I’m not a little girl. And going to court has never been my dream. I long for dangerous assignments, to be out in the field, to be a spy just as she was when she was my age. But my mother wouldn’t know that, because she’s always been more concerned with living her life at court than getting to know her only daughter.

“But I don’t want to go,” I say.

“You’re not leaving yet. Your mother says we have a week to prepare,” says Aunt Mesha.

Aunt Moriah puts her arms around her wife and turns to me. “Let’s not talk about it any more. Shadow, darling, go outside and check on the mint plants, would you? I’m worried those pests got to them during the night again.”

I grab my hot tea and walk out the kitchen door toward the back garden. The mint is fine, of course. They simply want privacy so they can talk about me. I take a seat on our old stone bench and blow on my tea to cool it off while I think about the summons, as well as what happened last night. I still don’t know what to make of it—or what to do about it.

Summoned to the palace. Certainly the girls in town, always copying the nobility’s latest hairstyles and necklines—they wouldn’t hesitate for a second. They’d think me a fool for even questioning it. Admittedly some small part of me would revel in seeing their expressions when the honey girl turns into a courtier. But the amusement would be brief.

I’m meant for so much more. Now I know some things even my mother doesn’t know, that the Guild doesn’t know. There are still secrets at Baer Abbey. The Aphrasians are not as weak and scattered as believed. Though Caledon is guilty of killing the grand prince, he is not a murderer, but a hero. He saved my life. The court needs to know. The queen needs to know.

And suddenly it occurs to me that it’s not such a terrible thing that I have been called to Violla Ruza.