One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)

“You must be shaken to the core after that dance,” Sara says, and pours a steaming cup. “What a spectacle. Queen Katharine has nerve to spare.”

“Yes,” says Luca. “I am sure that Natalia never imagined she and I would need to separate the two of you like children fighting over toys.”

“It was not a fight,” says Mirabella. “It was not anything.”

“She is only trying to scare you.” Bree curls her lip. “As if she could.”

But Katharine did scare her. And judging by their taut, pale faces, she had scared them all.

Mirabella blinks. The room is spinning. And blacking in and out. Sara hands her a cup of tea.

“I must sit,” she murmurs. The teacup falls and shatters at her feet, and she crumples to the floor.

“Mira!” Elizabeth shouts.

Sara draws back, her hands to her face.

“It is poison!” she gasps. “Where is the taster? Where is he?”

“It was not his fault,” Mirabella whispers.

Luca kneels at her side and barks for Rho. It takes less than a minute for the war-gifted priestess to secure the room, shuttering windows and ordering guards.

“How?” Rho asks.

“It must have been Katharine,” Luca says. “She must have had something on her gloves.”

Luca holds Mirabella’s hand and studies her skin everywhere that Katharine touched her during their dance. There is no redness or blisters. No sign of irritation.

“Where is Billy?”

“He stayed behind,” Bree says. “With Joseph Sandrin.”

“He should have been watching her.” Sara grinds her teeth. “Protecting her!”

“So should we all,” Luca says. “But it does not matter now.”

“I have sent for healers,” Rho calls from the door.

“There is no pain,” Mirabella says. “I am only weak. Perhaps it is not . . .” Her voice trails off. “Perhaps it is not poison at all.”

Sara touches her cheek. Bree and Elizabeth are both crying. She wishes she could tell them to stop. That she is fine.

When the healers arrive, they lift her into bed. They take blood from her arm and sniff her breath. They poke and prod and pull back her eyelids to see how her eyes move.

“She is getting no worse,” they murmur after a time. “Whatever it is, it is not progressing.”

“Why would they poison her if not to kill her?” Bree asks.

“Because they have killed her,” Luca says softly.

Sara kneels beside the bed and takes Mirabella’s hand. The poison does not race through her body. She does not break out in spasms or labor to breathe.

“Cowards,” Rho growls from the door, and Mirabella hears something break as the war priestess loses her temper.

“Can the duel be postponed?” Sara asks.

Luca shakes her head. There is no rule against this. A poisoner is allowed to poison, as they will. As they can. No matter how Mirabella survives the night, she will still be too weak to fight in the morning. She will walk into the arena as good as giftless.

“This was my fault, child,” Luca says sadly. “I let down my guard.”





THE ARENA





The arena grounds fill quickly. The vendors come first, right before dawn, to prepare food to sell from their stands: skewers of chicken and plums, sweet roasted nuts, barrels of cooled wine and cider. Many foods Arsinoe had not tried. Her stomach rumbles. She sent Madrigal out as soon as the crowds were heavy enough to hide her, with plenty of coin to procure samples of everything. But she is not back yet.

“So many people,” Arsinoe muses as the makeshift stands creak over their heads. “Dressed in their best. Hair pinned and faces painted, to watch a queen die.”

“Don’t think of that,” Jules says, lurking in shadow with Camden. “It must be done. And when it’s over, the island will have a new elemental queen. And we’ll be free to go.”

“I should go alone,” says Arsinoe. “You shouldn’t have to give up everything too.”

“What am I giving up?” Jules asks. “A town that will hunt me for my war gift? There’s no peace for me either, now that my curse is known.”

“Not everyone would be that way. Not Cait or Ellis. What about Madrigal and your new baby sister or brother?”

Jules lowers her eyes, and Arsinoe holds her breath. She does not know what she will do if Jules goes back to Wolf Spring. She does not know how to be without her.

“I’ve never had any path but yours,” Jules says. “So I’ll stay with you, until the end.” She smiles impishly. “Or until the curse drives me mad.”

At the sound of approaching footsteps, they tuck back into the shadows, and Arsinoe pulls the hood of her light cloak down over her eyes. But it is only Madrigal and Caragh. And Joseph as well, found wandering out on the arena grounds.

Madrigal hands Arsinoe several skewers of different meats.

“Don’t share,” she warns her as Arsinoe takes first bites. “Some are poisoned.”

“Were you followed?” Jules asks Joseph.

“No,” he replies. “I meant to come last night, but by the time I realized you had left the ball, it was so late that I slept in the stables. Then I snuck in with the morning crowds.” He looks out at the throngs of people. “Honestly, we needn’t have bothered sneaking. Only one thing’s on people’s minds today, and it is not us.”

Caragh ducks below the beams and peers out into the stands.

“There are so many poisoners,” she says. “So many elementals.”

“Almost no naturalists,” Madrigal adds. “Not that I would’ve expected them to make the journey.”

“Jules,” Caragh says. “Look there.” She points. On the western side of the arena sits a serious-faced group wearing cloaks lined with bright red wool. They are so still that they stand out, calm in the midst of chaos.

“Who are they?” Jules asks.

“I think they are warriors. From Bastian City.”

“Are there oracles too?” Arsinoe asks. “Can they tell us what’s going to happen and relieve us of the suspense?”

The corner of Caragh’s mouth twists upward. She turns to Madrigal and says, “We should go. Back to the Volroy to be ready to free the bear. We’ll guide him out to the riverbank while the city is mostly empty.”

Madrigal frowns. It is clear she would rather stay and watch the action. But eventually she nods and goes without complaint.

“Do you think they’ll manage to do it without killing each other first?” Arsinoe wonders aloud, and Joseph comes to stand between her and Jules. He slips an arm about the shoulders of each of them.

“Where will we go?” he asks. “After this?”

“Sunpool, maybe,” says Jules. “I’ve always wanted to see it. And with so many oracles, they’ll already know we’re coming.”

“Not the ending we hoped for,” says Joseph, “but far better than the ending we feared. The only thing missing will be Billy.”

Arsinoe tries to smile. To enjoy the daydream of the three of them together at last. But a daydream is all it is. In Sunpool or anywhere else they will be hunted. Their lives will be in disguise and in secret, on the move and on the run, and what kind of a life is that? Better than no life at all, Jules would say, but Arsinoe is not so sure.

A rumble passes overhead when the gallery begins to fill with the duel’s most illustrious guests: Council members and Arrons.