This gown used to be spectacular, yet looking at herself in the mirror, scarred and scalped, with dirty boots upon her feet in place of elegant slippers, it fit her better as lovely rags. Disrepair complemented her peculiarities in the same way perfection would’ve detracted from them.
Humility warmed her cheeks, giving the veins beneath her skin prominence even through the gray tinge. She looked nothing like her parents, and never would. All she could hope for was to look like herself, that one day the grayish tinge would wear away so her moonlit complexion could glow again. Her flaws stood out vivid against the gray. Each scar had a story to tell, each bruise and scratch was the beginning of another—evidence of a subtle strength. Perhaps that was the true reflection of her mother and father.
She mimed a mantra while sorting through Vesper’s many notes: My prince. My kingdom. My life. Her battle cry, silent but empowering. The moths took flight around her, echoing with their wings: My life, my life, my life.
At last she understood her calling, her identity. She would make her parents proud . . . reclaim what had been stolen, save the night realm’s prince, and unite the sun with the moon—whatever it took to see it all done.
25
Of Life and Death
Eldoria’s military—over two hundred strong—escorted Griselda and the princess’s retinue to Nerezeth’s iron stairway on regal blood-bay stallions. The infantry wielded halberd blades to cut paths through the honeysuckle for the wedding entourage. Upon arrival at the stairway, half the soldiers stayed at the base of Mount Astra, camping outside the panacea rose hedgerows to await the new king and their queen’s triumphant return. The other half accompanied the entourage across the night realm’s snowy terrain and to the obsidian fortress. Queen Nova sent her own infantry—though scanter in number due to illness—to meet their Eldorian guests and assure they had safe passage down the stairs and through the Grim. She opened her drawbridge without question, the welfare of her son her upmost priority. There was a blood pact upholding the peace, and once the marriage took place, their kingdoms would be united under the same sky again. Both Nerezeth and Eldoria needed this union, making the threat of war an obsolete and pointless consideration.
Back in Eldoria, where the real princess waited in her hidden room of dirt, forty guards occupied the palace’s outer bailey, postern gate, and battlements—using axes to clear away bristled vines for temporary walkways in the sunlight. The commoners sat inside their cottages, looking through any opening in the honeysuckle plants cloaking their windowpanes, hoping soon to greet the soft glow of moonlight that would kill the plague.
Inside the ivory castle, curtains were drawn and the corridors and chambers abandoned. Silence wreathed the halls, interrupted only by the banshee cry of Thana somewhere up high in the towers. There were five guards holding vigil at the doorway to the royal portico garden. Griselda had stationed them with swords drawn, insurance against her fear that only Elusion could derail all her hard work and wicked machinations now.
The regent was right to be afraid.
Crony found Luce hiding where the north and east corridors intersected down the hall and around the corner from the garden’s entry. An entranced Erwan—along with Dregs and Winkle—was hidden alongside him. The shopkeepers had their heads together, positioned beneath a candlelit sconce while looking within Winkle’s box and whispering.
Crony leaned against the cool, marble wall, wishing she’d had her staff for the walk here. Those bothersome shackles and chains had left her ancient bones stiff.
Around the corner and in the distance, the guards talked amongst themselves. They debated a variety of subjects, from which of them might be appointed to the queen and king’s royal guard to how beautiful the princess had looked in her wedding trousseau and what a shame she had to cover up with nightsky for the walk to Nerezeth. When a disturbing caw drifted from far overhead, talk fell to why the night sorceress’s giant crow still frequented their palace.
They couldn’t possibly know what Crony knew: that the bird was seeking her. She would call the one-eyed beast herself, when the time was right.
“What be the plan?” she whispered to Luce. She would’ve offered to lock the guards within a nightmare thrall, but her frail body hadn’t the strength to attempt one again so soon.
Luce leaned close and motioned to Winkle’s long-eared hood. “Our resident bunny is to send the guards on a chase. Erwan says their top priority is to keep the castle undefiled while the regent is away. She doesn’t want to return to any infestations. Obviously, I’m included on her list of vermin.”
“So, we send ’em runnin’. Then we’re in?”
Luce shook his head. “Our worthless knight doesn’t have a key to the garden.” He glared at Erwan, who could barely stand on his own, drifting in and out of consciousness. Luce had him propped against the wall. Candlelight flicked across his mud-and-bloodstained face. “Dregs will have to use his shoes to reach the window.”
Luce and Crony both peered around the corner, observing the beveled portal glass high above the garden door where soft streams of sunlight slanted in. With a solid push, it would swing open to allow fresh air into the castle.
Crony frowned as they withdrew into the adjacent corridor again. “It be small. Even a goblin won’t fit through there.”
“No, but a fox will. I’ll hitch a ride with Dregs, slip in, and unlock it from the other side.”
“There be the honeysuckle bristles.”
Luce shrugged. “Erwan said a pathway was cleared for the regent a couple of days ago. I doubt it’s fully grown back yet. And if it has, small matter. If a little girl can face a coffin full of cadaver brambles and scorpions, I can face a few thistles in my fur.”
“Thistles the size of sewin’ needles.” Crony glanced at the trail of crickets coming up behind her. “A shame these tiny bits aren’t as adept at opening locks as the shadows, aye?”
Luce gave her a lopsided grin. “How did they come to follow you?”
She suppressed smiling back. Though Luce had grown accustomed to her gruesome expressions, Dregs and Winkle hadn’t built up the tolerance. And were Erwan to witness it, he might be shocked out of his trance. “Our girl decided I needed an escort of me own.”
Luce’s grin turned winsome. “Eldoria’s gain will be our loss.”
Crony lowered her head, her horns weighing heavier than she cared admit. Or may-let that was her heart dragging her chin down. “Ne’er thought I’d see the day we’d be nostalgic for our parentin’ years.”
“Speak for yourself.” Luce stood tall and straightened his lapels. “I’m no parent. I’m rather more . . . the dashing uncle.”
Winkle and Dregs chose this moment to glance up at them and snicker softly.
Luce snarled. “What are you laughing at? Ever seen what a fox can do to a rabbit?”
Winkle smacked a hand across his whiskery facial hair.
Crony snorted. “Don’t be cross, me comely cur. They be seein’ anew yer soft spot for our ward. And yer sentiments be premature. Yer to see her through to the end, as ye promised.”
“About that.” Luce twisted his lips in thought. “When I’m in flight, I become a spirit . . . wind and air. Even should I have my wings”—his features shifted to contained eagerness, as if at last grasping the glorious possibility—“I can’t carry her unless she’s small enough to fit in my pocket. I can only carry myself and the clothes upon my back. Am I to fly ahead and forestall the nuptials?”
“Nay, ye go together. Ye can use yer wings and sylphin talents as a distraction when ye get there; clear the way for our princess to heal her prince.”
Luce peered around the corner to ensure the guards remained preoccupied, then retreated back into their hallway. “But if we don’t fly, how will we get there in time? It takes days, and that’s by horse.”
“Edith. A minute ago, in the dungeon, I gifted her one of Lachrymosa’s final memories. It be havin’ nothin’ to do with kingdom business, so me hands be free of interference.”
“You gave her a memory weave?”
“Only containin’ a small spell. The most important memory still be occupied here.” Crony thumped a fist against her skull. “The sorcerer had a determinate elixir. It homes in on a subject’s locale and transports ye directly to their side in a blink of an eye, if ’n ye have a sample of said subject to add to the brew. I boxed up the ingredients she be needin’, and she have the prince’s blood upon his notes. Edith be in the tunnel with our princess now, preparin’. She’ll be ready, upon yer arrival.”
Luce’s orange eyes shimmered. “So you told Edith all of it? That the tunnel, the gateway, and the room once belonged to you?”