Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns, #4)(43)

Katharine studies her curiously, but Mirabella’s expression does not waver.

‘Of course. I will arrange it.’

Bree comes to show off her skirt, and Mirabella admires the beadwork. She steps up to the table and runs her hand over the handles of the ornamental daggers. Such finery. It is hard to imagine that Jules Milone would wear it someday. Hard to imagine that she would command the queensguard army in a crown and a gown. Or that Luca would ever bow to her.

Mirabella had meant it when she told Bree and Elizabeth that she had no allegiance to either Katharine or the rebellion. But for there to be no queen of the line within the West Tower . . . She would be lying if she said it did not feel unnatural.

She goes to the window and looks down; from there, she can see the inner ward of the Volroy grounds, where Rho sits astride a large white horse directing rows and rows of queensguard soldiers through their drills. Even if she cannot make out the words, she hears Rho’s booming bark and watches the soldiers respond with crisp precision.

‘She is very good,’ Katharine says, joining her at the window. ‘A great asset to the Black Council. As I am sure she was to you in Rolanth.’

‘Rho’s first loyalty was to the Goddess,’ Mirabella replies. ‘And it seems, to the line of succession.’

‘She will be of much use against the rebellion.’

‘I am sure she will be.’ Below, Rho has shed her white hood, and her red hair blazes down her back. She is the Commander of the Queensguard now. Hardly a priestess at all.





INDRID DOWN




Arsinoe and Billy slip through the early-morning streets of the capital dressed in warm gray cloaks. He carries a basket, as if on his way to the marketplace. She carries nothing. Before they parted ways with Emilia and Mathilde outside the city, she asked them to dress her up to look like someone else. Nothing too fancy to draw the eye. She wanted the clothes of a merchant or a bookkeeper. So they left her in her soft brown trousers, and Mathilde lent her a vest of goldenrod to button over a clean white shirt. Then they twisted her short hair into a pair of loose low buns, a few strands tugged free to slightly obscure her scars. She does not know whether she looks like a bookkeeper, but she certainly does not look like herself.

‘Good Goddess,’ Arsinoe mutters as they walk along the side streets, doing their best to keep their feet out of slushy, wet pockets in the pavement. ‘I’d hoped I’d never see this place again.’ She sniffs. ‘But at least in the winter it doesn’t smell.’ They have nearly reached their destination now; the towers of the Volroy are clearly visible, blotting out the sky as they pass between buildings.

‘I don’t like this,’ Billy says. ‘You shouldn’t go alone.’ ‘Alone is safer. And I won’t have to be dragging someone along behind me who doesn’t know the ways.’

They hurry to the end of an alley and stop short. Another few cross streets and they will be at the Volroy. Arsinoe puts her hands on Billy’s shoulders. ‘You should stay here.’

‘Why? I’m dressed like a Fennbirnian. No one will notice if I go onto the grounds with you and leave alone.’ He glares up at the towers. ‘How are you going to reach the secret passageways, anyhow? Is there some other entrance? Something underground?’

‘If there is, I don’t know it. I’ve just got to go in with the other folk who seek governance. I’ll slip into the passageways once I find one.’

Billy looks at her, aghast. ‘You never said—! You’ll be recognized!’

‘Maybe not. If I’m only glimpsed by queensguard and no one from the actual council, I doubt they’ll realize who I am. Not dressed like this and when it’s so unexpected.’

Billy cannot manage words. He just stares at her with his mouth open.

‘We knew there were going to be risks,’ she says.

‘You never told me there was no secret way in. You shouldn’t do this. We should smuggle you in through the servants’ entrances or the kitchen.’

‘That’s a whole lot of interaction in a city full of unfriendly traitors.’

‘I thought we were the traitors.’

Arsinoe frowns. ‘Anyone who sides with Katharine is a traitor to their own conscience. Now I’m going in. Kiss me for luck.’

Billy hesitates, but in the end, he does as he is bid and does it well, pulling her close, his fingers cradling the back of her neck.

‘Arsinoe, are you ever going to listen to me?’

‘Yes. Absolutely.’

‘When?’

‘When you’re right. Look, I’m the one who ought to be afraid for you! All I need to do is slip in, tell Mirabella what to do, and slip out.’ Billy’s part in the plan is much more dangerous. He is to hide with the warriors along the parade route and provide a distraction so Mirabella can escape.

‘Be safe,’ he says, and she leaves him in the shadowy alley.

She crosses the last few streets to the Volroy grounds, her breath fast, white puffs in the chill air. With every step she takes, her knees want to lock up and turn around. There are no good memories here. She shivers as she passes the spot where Katharine kept Braddock caged prior to the Queens’ Duel.

But Mirabella needs her. She is there, somewhere, in who-knows-how-much danger inside the hulking, black stone monster of the towers. And Arsinoe will not leave her.