Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(54)

“It’s a shame they’re too young to wield weapons,” Artemisia says before leaping down from the roof, landing lightly next to me. “A few more years and they’d make for the start of a fierce and devoted army.”

I know she means well, but the words still gnaw at me. The idea that these children would grow up to fight battles, to feel the blood of others on their skin, to know the bite of a sword—I don’t want that for them. Not in service of me or anyone else.





THE RIDE BACK TO THE city is quiet, but it isn’t the uncomfortable kind of silence. I think we’re all too fatigued and hungry to talk much, but aside from that, I know my thoughts are still back in the refugee camp and I’m sure the others feel the same. Even S?ren’s face is drawn and pale, though part of me wants to slap him. He can’t be horrified by the way the Sta’Criverans have been treating those people when it’s the Kalovaxians’ fault that they had to seek refuge in the first place.

It isn’t S?ren’s fault, I know that, but it’s an easy distinction to overlook sometimes.

When we get back to the city, we return the horses to the stables and slip through the busy streets as quietly as we can. The sun is starting to sink in the sky now—we stayed out longer than we meant to—and I pray to all the gods that might have followed us across the Calodean Sea that our absence has gone unnoticed.

And if it hasn’t?

I would like nothing better than to tell King Etristo exactly where I have been and how vile I think he is for the way he treats the refugees who came to his land seeking safety. I want to tell him that I think he’s a monster and that if he doesn’t send them food and clean water immediately I will leave, marriage be damned. But even as I think it, I know that’s something I cannot do. Loath as I am to admit it, I need his help to save Astrea, to give those people a place to go home to.

But the second I am on Astrea’s throne again, I will make sure he knows exactly what I think of him.

It isn’t until we’re in the riser on the way up to our floor that Heron breaks the silence.

“I can steal food over the next few days if I use my gift,” he whispers, casting a wary glance at the riser operator, who doesn’t seem to be listening to us. “Gather up more bit by bit than I could all at once. Then we’ll go back. Or, I will. You don’t have to—”

“I’m going,” I say. “If anyone wants to stay behind, you’re welcome to, but after what we saw today I can’t imagine that will be the case.”

The others say nothing and I take that for assent.



* * *



—

When I slip inside my room, I think for one blissful second that my absence went unnoticed. Everything looks exactly as I left it—the bed rumpled, my nightgown pooled on the floor, the wardrobe door open. But Marial is so still perched in the chair by the fireplace that I don’t notice her until she stands.

“You foolish girl,” she says, her voice low and her expression furious.

I take a step back toward the door but there isn’t anywhere to go. This isn’t something I can run from.

“I felt better,” I tell her instead. “I thought a walk would do me good.”

She levels a look of disbelief at me, one perfectly arched eyebrow rising. “A walk?” she says dryly. “I suppose that’s why you smell like a gutter and are covered head to toe in dirt?”

I can’t think of an answer for that quickly enough.

“After how well we’ve treated you, all the fine things we’ve given you, you decide to repay it by lying and going behind the King’s back?” she asks, her voice low and dangerous.

Something in me snaps, and before I can stop them, words force their way past my lips.

“I don’t care about your fine things. I’m grateful for the kindness the King has shown me in allowing me to stay, but I am here for my people—the ones in chains in Astrea and the ones being starved and caged in what you have the nerve to call a refugee camp. Refuge means safety, and what I saw today can hardly be called that.”

It isn’t until Marial recoils from my words that I realize I’ve said too much. “You went to the camp?” she asks quietly, her voice wavering. Though she’s always seemed so fearsome, for the first time she looks afraid.

I want to deny it, but there’s no way I can now. I kick myself for letting that slip. “I asked the King to bring me there,” I tell her, deciding that if I can’t take the words back, I might as well commit to them. “He refused. He said it was no place for a girl like me and he was right. It’s no place for anyone.”

Marial shakes her head. “They’re cursed,” she says. “We’ve taken pity enough on them, but we won’t put ourselves at risk for strangers. Now you bring their filth and bad luck with you.”

She says it like a line she’s heard spoken so many times she’s memorized it.

“If you believe that, you’re the fool,” I say. “You can tell the King if you like, but I would imagine that would get you into more trouble than it would me. After all, I left on your watch. And I’m sure he can get another lady’s maid far more easily than he could find a new displaced queen to marry off for his own profit.”

The words don’t feel like mine, and when Marial stumbles back a step, looking like I physically struck her, guilt pools in my stomach. I remind myself of what she said about the refugees, and that she would find a way to keep me from going back to the camp if I didn’t stop her, but that logic does nothing to make me feel better. Again, I can’t help but hear the Kaiser in my mind, guiding my actions. I want to apologize, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.