It’s the worst possible time to remember Roan’s wink, but I can’t fight it as the memory warms my chest. I don’t want to.
“No.” Papa’s voice is low, urgent. “This place is dangerous for you.” For an instant, I’m seven years old again, clutching his hand as he drags me from Everless, the smoke still clinging to our clothes. “The Queen will arrive soon.”
“We need the money,” I say firmly, suddenly angry at him, at his stubbornness. I’m not seven years old; he has no right to tell me what to do.
“I’ll find the money.” He takes my hands and gathers them in his own. His palms are cold, his fingers hard as bone. The torchlight deepens the lines in his face and the bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes. “Please. Leave this place.”
“I can’t; they’ll notice if I’ve gone,” I say, not sure if it’s another lie. Guilt interlaces with the anger, but I push it down. He’s protected me for seventeen years—now I’m going to protect him, no matter how painful it is. “The Queen’s company will be here any minute,” I say. “The countryside will be crawling with guards and nobles come to watch her approach. You must leave now, before they arrive.”
“So must you, Jules.” His hands grip my shoulders and his eyes bore into mine. “You can’t let the Queen near you. Don’t let her see you. She’ll know you. It’s not safe.”
“The Queen?” I stare at him. “Don’t you mean Liam, Papa?”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “She’s a thief. And very dangerous.” His words come out in a rush, he’s almost breathless, and only when I pick up the torch do I see how bright his eyes are, with fever or something even worse. “I’ll explain on the way. But we must leave—”
“Papa, no.” I interrupt. “If I don’t show up to my kitchen duties, the punishment will be severe.”
He continues to tug at my hand, though weakly. Questions and fears are piling on me, crushing me with their weight—my father is going mad.
“Wait here,” I say. “I’ll find someone to escort you home.” And then, because I see him intend to argue, I add: “I’ll come home tomorrow, after I speak to Lora.”
Papa’s brow creases. “If you swear it.”
I open my mouth to make the promise, but something makes it stick in my throat.
Never swear unless you mean it, or by swearing send the Alchemist for your soul. An old singsong warning we used to say as children.
I just hope it’s not true. Because the truth is that I can’t leave Everless tomorrow. Papa looks half in the grave; more than ever, he needs to replenish his time. Worse—there’s a part of me, small but undeniable, that wants to see if Roan will smile at me again.
“I swear.” The lie twists my stomach. “I love you.”
He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead, wrapping his arms around me. For a moment I lean against him, breathing in the metal-and-straw smell of home. “I love you,” he murmurs into my hair. “Always remember that.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise,” I say. Lying feels like trying to hold an eel in my stomach: the truth wants to wriggle its way out.
I’m used to the feeling by now.
7
Back in the kitchen, I look around for Lora and find her across the room, scraping scales off a fish with a long knife. She meets my eyes and looks hurriedly back down, her brow wrinkled with worry. I will have to thank her for leading me to Papa.
But first I need to get Papa out. I search the room until I see Hinton, crouched in a corner playing a game of sticks while a pot of soup bubbles unattended behind him.
When he sees me hurrying toward him, he sweeps the sticks into a pile and scuttles in front of them, looking guilty. But I hardly notice, my hands already moving to pull coins from the purse on my belt. I wish I had time to think, to come up with a better plan. But once the Queen comes within sight of Everless, the gates will close and guards will be posted on the palisades, searching every carriage that goes in and out. I won’t be able to get Papa out after that.
I grab a small wooden bowl and ladle soup into it. Hinton watches me, wide-eyed, as I pull three large copper week-coins from my belt and drop them into the steaming soup.
“You can’t take that soup. That’s for—”
“I know,” I say, dropping to my knees in front of him. He eyes me warily, so I open my purse and hold it out toward him. Another week-coin, newly minted, shines out at us. His eyes widen, and briefly I remember being twelve: how a day seemed like a gift, a week as good as forever.
“I need a favor,” I say. “Before the Queen arrives. Can you help me?”
He hesitates. But the coin is too tempting to pass up. “I’ll try.”
“Can you find your way to the root cellar?” A nod. “Take this bowl. You’ll find a man waiting there. Make sure he drinks this. He’s my—my father.” I stumble over the words—I’m so used to guarding my secrets from everyone—but that doesn’t matter now. “He needs to leave Everless, but he’s sick. He can’t get out on his own.”
“Why does he need to leave?” Hinton asks warily.
“It’s a long story,” I say. “There’s some bad blood between him and . . . Captain Ivan.” I don’t want to say Liam’s name and inspire questions that I can’t answer.
It’s the right thing to say. Hinton nods in understanding—he’s as afraid of Ivan as everyone else. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take him out of here,” I say. “Now. To Crofton, if you can. Do you know where that is?” He nods, and I press the coin into his hand. I smile at him, hoping the strain doesn’t show in my face. If this wasn’t real, I could laugh at the idea of entrusting my father’s life to a nine-year-old boy. But I’m desperate.
He turns the coin over, then brings it to his teeth, gnawing thoughtfully on it. “There’s a shipment of leather going to Crofton tonight. I’ll get the stableboys to hide him in the carriage.”
We’re both startled by the deep, clear peal of a bell. The bustling kitchen falls silent as the walls hum around us, vibrating with the richness of the sound. For a fleeting moment, I forget my fear, temporarily entranced. As a child, I’d heard many of Everless’s bells—there are bells for weddings and deaths, New Year’s and royal proclamations. I’ve never before heard the bell of the Crown, reserved solely for the Queen.
Of all the bells I remember from my childhood at Everless, this song is the deepest and most beautiful. It means that we are to assemble for Her Majesty’s arrival.
It also means I am running out of time.
“We can’t wait,” I tell him.
“I’ll go now,” Hinton says, lifting his chin. “Out the south gate.”
“Be careful.” I can barely get the words out, my heart is pounding so hard.