I look around the plants. A few feet away, sprinklers spring to life, coating a long row with a very fine mist.
“Electronic surveillance doesn’t work in here, does it?” I ask, and he nods, almost impressed. “That’s why we’re here. No bugs in the greenhouse.”
“Grace—”
“Before Mom died, she took a trip. We know she went to see Alexei’s mom at Binevale. And we know she came here—to Valancia. I think she found something, and the royal family found out, and that’s why they wanted her dead. Did she tell you what she found?”
“Is that why you’re here, Grace Olivia?”
The Scarred Man sees too much. The Scarred Man knows too much.
“Keep your enemies closer, right?” I shrug. “She found something, and they’re terrified I have it. So if you know what it is or where it is or—”
“Have you ever seen the grounds before? The gardens of Valancia? They’re quite famous for people who care about such things.”
“Answer my question, Dominic. Do you know what she found?”
“Have you ever heard of this house?” Dominic looks up at the glass ceiling overhead. The pieces fit together like those in a puzzle, and the light that comes through is almost ethereal in its glow.
“It’s a nice greenhouse. The nicest. But I don’t care about greenhouses. I care about whatever it was my mother found!”
“Oh.” Dominic laughs. “It’s no mere greenhouse. This house was one of the last acts of King Alexander the Second. It was built right before the War of the Fortnight. The gardens, too.”
For some reason, this is the fact that stops me.
“They built those gardens during a drought?”
Dominic’s raised eyebrow is his answer.
“The coup was not right, Grace Olivia. But that does not mean it wasn’t without cause.”
I’d never considered this, but I should have. Nothing happens in a vacuum. There is a cause and effect to everything.
“And it was all built for the king’s mistress.” Dominic walks around a massive fountain that stands in the house’s center. Once on the other side, he looks up through the wavy glass, and I realize that we are almost in the literal shadow of the national cathedral. “They say the king chose this place so that his mistress would be between his wife and the church. He liked the idea of mocking both simultaneously.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. And I’m not entirely sure why.
“He kept his mistress in a glass house?”
“She was said to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Helen of Adria, they called her. Fitting for a walled city, don’t you think? And what’s the use of possessing the most beautiful woman in the world if the world cannot see her?” Dominic walks on. “Originally the glass house was not on the palace grounds, but as a sort of revenge, the queen had the land annexed, the fences moved, hoping to drive the woman out. But the king only laughed and thanked her for making his mistress’s house an official part of the palace.”
I stop. Turn to him. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“The royals who died in the rebellion consisted of two innocent children but also a king who openly mocked his queen and his church and a queen who built gardens so grand that before they were even half-finished they had drained the city’s reservoir. I am not saying they deserved their fate, but the war, the parliament, the prime minister—these things all grew out of that tragedy. The results were not entirely bad.”
“What are we going to do, Dominic?” I snap, tired of history, of this walk down memory lane. “Are we going to look for evidence? Poison Ann’s tea? Please tell me you have a plan.”
“It’s important that you listen to me, Grace Olivia.” Dominic steps forward. He’s so tall he looms above me, ominous and omniscient. “We are not going to do anything.”
“But there has to be a way out. There has to be.”
“There is.” Dominic reaches for me, takes my narrow shoulders in his large hands and holds me steady. “There is a way out. There is only one way for it to end.”
“What is it?” I ask, but Dominic stays silent. It’s like he doesn’t want to tempt fate, like he knows that tempting me is the exact same thing. “Tell me! I’ll do it.” My voice cracks. My eyes water. “I’ll do anything.”
The whole world is a blur as the Scarred Man says, “You become a princess.”
I don’t remember sleeping. But that’s silly, isn’t it? No one ever does. Still, I’m surprised when I wake up, sun streaming through the tall windows of my pretty princess bedroom. I’m a little afraid to think that I might get comfortable here—that, someday, this might be routine. Normal.
I’m even more afraid to realize that I’m not alone.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
When I bolt upright I see a maid at the foot of my bed. Her Adrian accent is strong, but her English is perfect. Her curtsy is sure and straight.
“I do hate to wake you, but you have a busy day ahead.”