What in the hells are you doing down here? Do you want the Queen to think that I am a monster?” Linea said when she found me alongside the other Shadows and maids preparing the drawing room for the royal visit. Apparently, today was an exception. Linea was perfectly okay with being perceived as a monster on days the Queen wasn’t visiting.
She ushered me into Lavendra’s bedroom and made me put on one of her dresses.
Linea had decided she wanted the Queen to think that her Shadows wore ballgowns while they served their Couterie.
“There. That’s the best we can do,” she said, frowning as she examined me in the dress. Not the one I had coveted, sadly, but a simple gray silk that she deemed appropriate for the occasion. “Why are you putting us all through this, Farrow? What possibly possessed you? You’ll only embarrass us all.”
“You said once that this life could take me inside palaces. I really want to see the inside of the palace,” I deadpanned.
Linea swallowed a laugh at the irony of me using her own spiel against her.
“Go on then, it’s only our funeral,” she said, patting down my hair and leading me back to the drawing room like we were going to the gallows.
The prince wasn’t supposed to meet his Couterie for another year. It was tradition for the royal heirs to meet their Couterie on their eighteenth birthdays. Technically, I still was not allowed to meet him.
And, apparently, the prince would not see me or Lavendra—or anyone, for that matter. He was led into the room wearing a blindfold of black silk that was as fine as any Couterie gown.
My furious heart threatened to beat through my corset when I saw the Queen entering behind him. Her face still had the same sharp edges. Her eyes were still the same hollow pools of gray that I remembered. She looked older, though, no longer the girl queen with the young son. Now she had fully grown into her long neck and limbs—and they were encased in Black Glass. I had never seen anything like it. Her gown, from its bodice to its belled skirt, was armored by Black Glass that was spun into thread and woven into the fabric. The result—a shimmering gown that was as cold and black as her heart.
The rumors of the Queen’s increased paranoia were not just rumors. Her very person was cloaked in proof.
“I do not want to ruin the first time he sees his Couterie with this circus,” Queen Magrit said to Linea as Prince Mather was helped inside by two of his valets.
They settled him into a chair, and he laughed.
Lavendra and I took our places in front of him. She wouldn’t look at me. She wouldn’t speak to me. She hadn’t from the moment I’d challenged her. From what I knew of her ego, she thought that depriving me of her attention was the ultimate punishment. But for me, it was the most peace I’d had since I’d become her Shadow. And I knew something else: a quiet Lavendra was a scared Lavendra.
The prince put his hands on the blindfold.
“Don’t you dare!” the Queen said.
He put his hands down at his sides, but a mischievous smile remained on his lips.
It was the first time I had seen either of them in so many years. I was so close. I could take my sharpened wand and stab the Queen here and now and have my revenge—but there was no way I could pierce the Black Glass of her dress in a roomful of guards, Couterie, and Shadows.
The Queen was obviously annoyed, but she seemed to enjoy being in charge of the proceedings.
“As a Couterie, you are tasked with protecting the future king’s honor, heart, and body. The Challenge is comprised of three parts. The first is a question of love. The second: influence, and the third: devotion.
“Let us begin.”
We flipped a coin to determine who would go first. I lost the toss and waited for the Queen to propose the first question to Lavendra.
“I will set the scene and you will tell me what you would advise the prince to do in this situation. Do you understand?”
“I do, Your Highness,” Lavendra said.
“The first question is one that deals with the heart of the prince.”
The Couterie and Shadows leaned in a bit, clearly interested in the subject matter.
“Prince Mather must choose his bride one day. When that day comes, if he is presented with a choice between love and a match that furthers the interests of the Queendom, which should he choose?”
Lavendra smiled as if she knew the answer.
“The prince has no choice. His heart never comes before the Queendom. He will make the match that ensures our sovereignty.”
The Queen clapped her hands together, obviously pleased with her answer.
I held in a sigh. I took a long look at the prince’s body language. Even with the blindfold, I could see he was not in agreement with Lavendra’s words.
“Why can’t the prince have both?” I asked. “A marriage of love that benefits the Queendom. I think that he deserves both. I think we all do. After all, that is what Queen Magrit had and what Queen Meena had before her.”
There was an interminable pause. Had I overstepped?
“Well, son, what say you?”
“The Queendom comes first. Always first. But I do hope that my heart doesn’t go unused. The second answer is the victorious one,” the prince said.
His body turned toward the Queen. He wanted her approval.
“The first point goes to Farrow,” the Queen said, “and as such, she will answer the next question first: A landowner accuses the new king of overcollecting taxes. What say you?”
I remembered the prince when he was young, running around the palace. He’d said to me that “everything and everyone here is mine.”
I used his childish sentiment and said, “The Crown owns everyone and everything in the land. It is impossible for the Crown to take from the people when it has given everything to us.”
The Queen turned to Linea.
“Very astute.”
Lavendra cleared her throat and smiled.
“I think my lady is mistaken; there should be a crime for theft.”
“Pardon? The prince has done nothing wrong.”
“But the landowner has. He has stolen the prince’s good name and should be punished accordingly, at His Highness’s discretion, of course.”
The Queen laughed at this and turned to her son, whose expression was harder to read.
“What say you, son?” she asked pointedly.
“Who am I to argue with such logic? The second answer wins.”
I almost cursed Lavendra underneath my breath. How could the prince like her answer better?
A murmur went through the room. The Queen rapped her chair’s arm for attention before speaking again.
“I see we have come to an impasse. The final question will decide your fates, quite literally. Lavendra will answer first.”
A beautiful young servant brought out a tray with two apples covered in what appeared to be gold leaf.
“The prince’s life is in danger. Someone has poisoned one of these apples. You must save the prince. Choose wisely. The prince’s life depends on it, as does your own. And please be warned—there is real poison in one of the apples,” the Queen added.
The other Couterie gasped. I felt my heart begin to race.
I was the only one in this room who truly knew her cruelty, and still I was surprised by the depth of it.
I knew that my plan for revenge would one day put my life in danger. I never imagined that day would be today.
The prince himself reflexively protested. “No, Mother!”
Queen Magrit looked at him sharply. She was unaccustomed to dissent, even from her own son.
Madame Linea’s left eyebrow twitched. But she remained silent.
“Fret not, ladies, the poison is fast-acting. You will know your fate within minutes.” The Queen laughed, clearly pleased with her deathly scheme.
“Mother, you can’t,” the prince objected again, rising from his chair.
“Relax, my son. There is an antidote.”
She nodded, and another servant stepped forward, holding a tray with a vial on it. He lifted it high for all to see. The sparkling blue liquid inside caught the light.
“The vial will be administered only if the prince sees fit. These lives were cultivated for you, and so shall their fates be.”
“Thank you, Mother,” the prince said, bowing his head to her.
Linea cleared her throat as if she wanted to say something. But her lips remained firmly sealed.
Lavendra’s face was ashen. Silently, she picked up the apple on the right side of the tray and took a bite. With a shaking hand, she replaced the apple to its original position.
“Lavendra has chosen the apple on the right,” the Queen announced.
Then it was my turn.
From this distance, the apples appeared identical. And they remained so as the servant brought them closer. It was a life-and-death decision for more than just me. If I didn’t win this challenge, then I would not get to end the Queen’s life.
“Which one do you choose?”
I looked from one apple to the other. How was I to pick?
I tapped my fingers against the pocket of Lavendra’s dress, wishing for my wand, which wouldn’t work even if it were here. I stopped myself.
“There is only one way to be sure that the prince is safe.”
I took one apple in each hand. I looked between them. I took a bite from the one on the left. Then I lifted the apple on the right and bit that one too.
Tork and the rest of the room gasped. Linea fanned herself with her hand.
“Farrow has eaten both apples,” the Queen announced.
“Then the prince has made his decision,” Mather said. “Lavendra bit only one apple. She wanted to be applauded for risking her life. But she left herself a chance to live. A real Couterie would not leave the chance. She would put the prince’s life before her own. Lavendra, you are a Shadow now.”
The Queen turned to me. “That means you, Farrow, are Couterie.”
Lavendra shook her head.
“This is a mistake. This cannot be . . . ,” Lavendra began, and then she fell silent, seemingly realizing what she had done. She’d questioned the Queen.
She bowed low.
“Both apples are poisonous—but when eaten together, they cancel each other out. A rather elegant riddle,” the Queen said, congratulating herself.
“You poisoned me . . .” Lavendra drifted off. But it wasn’t that she’d lost her words. It was the poison taking them from her, stealing away her breath.
Lavendra’s hand went to her neck, and she made a gasping sound. Her dewy face turned ashen, and she fell to the ground.
I rushed to her side. I spotted Tork in the gallery, ready to help, but his Shadow and brother, Jacoby, pulled him down.
“Help her!” I screamed.
I looked up at the Queen, who cocked her head at me, as if the scene before her were a curiosity at a fair. My stomach turned.
“What are you waiting for?” I demanded.
“As I said, it is the prince’s decision. Mather, should she live or should she die?”
A razor-sharp edge laced through her voice. I wondered if maybe this was a test for the prince too.
I remembered what the Queen had said about the apples. Apart, they were poisonous. Together, they canceled each other out. I reached for the second apple to put it to Lavendra’s lips, but one of the guards stopped me.
I looked past him. It was up to the prince to determine Lavendra’s fate. And it was up to me to convince him.
“Please, Your Highness. Mercy is the ultimate power. You get to show that it is your will that determines her fate,” I pleaded, trying to appeal to his ego.
Would the prince let Lavendra die? Was that the cost of answering wrong? Was this the cost of my vengeance?
My eyes fell on the prince, who was still, so very still. What was he thinking? Was he his mother’s son? Would he let Lavendra die to prove his mother’s point? Or to prove something to her?
He answered without emotion and without urgency.
“Give her the antidote,” he said.
The Queen sighed as if she were disappointed. The guard handed me the antidote, and I poured it into Lavendra’s open mouth.
I held my breath as I waited for hers to return.
One, two, three, four . . . I counted in my head as the moment ached on.
“Lavendra . . . ,” I demanded.
Come back to me, come back and challenge me, I thought. It was part prayer, part wish, part spell, even though I knew I couldn’t make one anymore.
A few interminable seconds passed, and her eyes fluttered open.
When she spotted me, I could see the truth of what had just happened hit her all at once. She glared at me.
I helped Lavendra to her feet. She was weak, but she wrested away from me and began to stumble again. Linea rushed to Lavendra’s side and shifted her weight over to her.
The Queen got up quickly, and her guards trailed behind her.
She walked past me, and then looked back.
“You are a strange one. She is your competition, and yet you moved to aid her after her defeat. You should savor your victory. A true victor leaves no one behind to rise again.”
She was right. But there was no way she could know she had made that mistake already by leaving me behind. There was no way for her to know that her mistake was going to be fatal. I was someone she’d left behind, and I was going to kill her.
“Linea, you have the year to get your house in order. Couterie, I look forward to seeing you in the spring.”
“Your Highness, may I escort Lavendra to her room?” Linea asked the prince.
“You may, but the victor stays,” he said.
The royals and their pomp and circumstance. He couldn’t even see me, but he still needed an audience for his exit.
Linea shuffled Lavendra out of the room.
It was supposed to be the prince’s turn to exit. Two guards moved to either side of him to help him out of the room, since he was still wearing his blindfold. But a couple of seconds ticked by, and he did not rise from his seat.
“Your Highness?” one of the guards prompted.
“Clear the room. I’d like a moment alone with my Couterie,” he said. “I believe she’s earned it.”
The guards froze in place, but then one whispered to him, “Her Majesty will have both our heads if we don’t get you back to the palace. She does not wait.”
“Then you are in a quandary, because I will have your heads if you don’t,” the prince said with a mischievous smile below the blindfold.
“Of course, Your Highness,” the guard said with a bow. He and the other guard retreated to the back of the room. They threw open the doors and the Couterie filed out. I caught a grateful glance from Tork as he crossed the room beside Jacoby.
“Farrow?” the prince called.
I realized that I hadn’t moved a muscle since the Queen had left the room.
“Yes, Prince Mather,” I said finally.
“Come a little closer,” he demanded.
He couldn’t possibly see me through the blindfold. But I obeyed, inching closer.
He put his hands up to the blindfold but then put them back down again without removing it.
“Cook always says that I would enjoy my food better if I waited and savored it,” he quipped lightly.
But I felt the weight of the joke. Part of me rose up in protest. He was still the little boy I’d met in the hall of the palace. He still thought of people as possessions for his entertainment or his consumption. Just like his mother.
“I must know what possessed you to take both apples. How did you know my mother’s riddle called for such sacrifice? How did you know that the sacrifice was the remedy itself?” he asked. His voice was filled with curiosity, like he genuinely wanted an answer.
“I didn’t know. I hoped.”
“Hope? Not a word heard often in our Queendom.”
And I trusted in the Fates, I thought. But I didn’t dare say the words out loud.
“I am closer to everything that I want than when I woke this morning,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
“I’m afraid that you have the advantage here,” he said.
“You are the prince. How could I possibly have any advantage over you?” I asked.
“I cannot see your every expression, and yet you can see mine.” He gestured toward his blindfold. “But I prefer it this way. If I could see you, my opinion of you might be clouded by your beauty.”
“How would you know that I am in possession of beauty?” I asked.
“Beauty isn’t just in the face. It’s in the content of your character. It’s in the way you carry yourself through the world. You are clever. You are brave. Hence, you are beautiful.”
It was strange. Prince Mather wasn’t what I had expected. In fact, he was . . . charming. Where did he get it from? It certainly wasn’t something he’d learned from his mother.
“That is an easy statement to make when I am also in possession of the face chosen to match the features deemed most pleasing to you.”
Before he could answer, Madame Linea returned to the room. In the last hour I had seen her morph from the authoritative instructress to the Couterie into something else. Something obsequious. Something afraid. Instead of gathering satisfaction, I felt something else stir in me. I had never been on Linea’s side, exactly. She was a means to the Queen’s end. But seeing her bow before the blindfolded prince made me remember myself and bristle toward him.
“Pardon the interruption, Your Highness, but the Queen is waiting,” Linea whispered.
The prince sighed as if he were annoyed by either Linea’s presence or his mother’s impatience. Or some combination of both. I found myself annoyed by his annoyance.
I marveled at the luxury he had of being the one person in the world who could dare upset the Queen and be greeted only with sighs.
I could hear the sound of the door closing behind me after Linea’s exit.
“Till we meet again, fair Farrow,” he said.
He reached out his hand and I put mine in it. He took my hand to his lips. I felt myself tremble. I told myself it was because I was still coming down from the poison. It had to be that and not the sensation of his lips grazing over my skin. But even when he dropped my hand, I felt the absence of his and I found myself tapping my fingers together nervously.
“You never answered my question,” he added, running his hands through his hair. “Why would you risk your life with a challenge?”
“I am closer to everything I want than when I woke this morning,” I repeated.
The prince paused and pursed his lips. I could not see his eyes, but I felt like if I could, they would be staring into mine.
“I feel like I am closer too,” he breathed.
And despite myself, I felt the tremble again.
“Gerard . . . Thornton . . . it is time.” The two guards raced to his sides to guide him out. He let himself be led.
“Not the most dashing of exits, I’m afraid,” he said.
I laughed for his benefit.
When the door finally shut behind them, I looked at the tray with the apples. I knocked them to the floor. My instincts as a Shadow and an Entente made me kneel to begin cleaning up the mess. But when my knees met the ground, the cold wood floor shocked me awake, like a slap of water to the face in the morning. I righted myself and got to my feet. I stepped over the golden fruit. I would not kneel.
I was Couterie now.