Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns, #4)(50)

THE PARADE




Only five queensguard soldiers were lost in the capture of the rebels. With the dead queens’ help, Rho had foiled whatever plan the rebellion had hatched, and now Katharine has Arsinoe’s boy. But the fact that the rebellion had a plan at all . . .

‘The black pearls, my queen?’ Her maid Giselle holds them up against her neck. ‘Perhaps the black pearl choker?’

‘Not now,’ Katharine says, and pushes free. ‘Send me my Commander of Queensguard.’

‘Yes,’ Giselle replies, and hurries to the door.

‘Wait.’ Katharine takes a breath. Giselle has been her maid since Greavesdrake. She has always been kind. Almost a friend. ‘I did not mean to be brusque. Do not worry about the pearls. I wear no jewels today. Only armor.’

The maid dips her head, and Katharine knows she is forgiven.

Not long after, the guards at her door announce Rho’s arrival, and the tall priestess strides into the room.

‘The prisoners remain silent,’ she says before Katharine can ask.

‘Yes. I expected them to.’

‘But if the Chatworth boy is here, you can be sure that the Bear Queen is here as well.’

‘Do not call her that,’ Katharine snaps. ‘Double the queensguard presence at the parade. Nothing must go wrong. Have you’—she hesitates—‘have you any reason to suspect Mirabella’s involvement in this plot?’

Rho takes a moment to consider. ‘No. And I have been monitoring her closely. Even down to the woodpecker.’

‘Good.’ Katharine sighs and walks to her bed, where a black embroidered gown has been laid out to wear beneath her gold breastplate. ‘For I am surprised to discover that I actually trust her.’

‘She is a powerful ally to have.’

‘As are you,’ Katharine says. ‘I want to thank you, Rho, for your loyalty. And for your discretion.’ She lifts the strap of the gown. ‘Will you send my maid back in, please?’

Rho nods and leaves. The moment the door closes behind her the dead queens begin to chatter.

Mirabella, Mirabella, they murmur until Katharine wants to tear her hair out.

Mirabella is not to be trusted. Not until she is ours.

Bree and Elizabeth arrive early to dress and arm Mirabella. Elizabeth wears her finest robes and an adornment of blue ribbon, the splash of color permitted in celebration of the Mistbane and the heroic elementals. Bree wears the custom gown Katharine ordered made, and the blue and silver beads of the skirt sparkle as she moves, giving her the impression of a shining, swimming fish.

‘It’s not as heavy as I thought it would be,’ Elizabeth says, holding the breastplate in place with her right hand as Bree buckles it. The smooth, silver panel shines across Mirabella’s chest. She will have to be careful not to look down at it if the day proves sunny. She might blind herself.

Bree runs her fingers across the engraving of clouds and lightning, so expertly worked into the metal, the veins of the bolts spidering down to the edge of the armor. ‘It is beautiful. Even Luca was raving about it. I think she wishes we had made you something like this for the Ascension.’

‘Does she think that would have helped?’ Mirabella looks down at herself, then over her shoulder, toward the hanging tapestry and the secret door. She knows that Arsinoe is gone; after Katharine left her alone, she fiddled and tapped at the wall for what felt like forever, unable to get the passage to open. If Arsinoe had still been there, she would not have been able to disguise her laughter.

‘Are you all right, Mira?’ Elizabeth asks. ‘You seem very nervous for a simple parade.’

‘You will not have to fight the mist today, after all,’ Bree adds. ‘Well, unless it decides to rise . . .’

‘That is very helpful!’ Mirabella forces a grin. ‘But I am fine. And as usual, Bree, you will outshine me.’ She gestures to the beaded gown, and Bree twirls.

‘It is glorious! But heavier than your breastplate. I feel sorry for my horse.’

‘They’ll have to put you on a nice, heavy draught horse, then,’ says Elizabeth.

‘Good Elizabeth. Always thinking of the animals. Perhaps a charger. I do not think Queen Katharine will allow any plow horses into her parade.’

Mirabella squares her shoulders. Arsinoe will not have given up on trying to get her out of the capital, no matter how foolish and impossible the task. Will she be there, somewhere? Will Mirabella have to see her face in the crowd, and the betrayal in her eyes when she does not use the distraction to run?

‘Mira, do you want to wear any jewels? I do not know how they will go with this armor . . .’

Anything could happen today. Something could go wrong. People could be killed. And there is no way to avoid it. She is utterly powerless to stop her sisters as they gnash their teeth at either end of her outstretched hands.

‘No jewels,’ she hears herself say. ‘Just the blue cape.’

‘We should go, then,’ says Bree. ‘They will want us in the council chamber. The soldiers will have already lined up.’

Mirabella follows Bree and Elizabeth down the stairs and listens to the sounds of the city at every window. It is louder than usual. Excited. The marketplace is alive, and vendors have taken up places along the parade route to sell hot hand pies and skewers of roasted meat. People will crowd along the streets ten or twenty deep.