Ash Princess (Ash Princess Trilogy #1)(72)

I’m too afraid to bring it up again with her. I keep seeing the wary look on her face; I still hear her telling me that there is no changing the enslavement of the other Astreans. Still, there is a part of me that hasn’t yet given up hope that I’m wrong.



* * *



—

Every morning before Hoa comes in, I check the doorway for another note from S?ren, but there is never one to find. He was due back a couple of days ago now, and while I figure this must mean Vecturia is still fighting, I can’t help but worry that he might not come back at all.

And what will he come back to if he does? A world suddenly bereft of his mother, the only person in this palace he loved. He never even got to say goodbye to her. I understand that more than I care to, which is why I decide to write him another letter.

I don’t tell my Shadows what I’m doing when I sit down at my desk—I can’t stand to have Artemisia breathe down my neck again. Not this time, when there is no hidden strategy to my words, no deceptions or subterfuge, just honesty.

Dear S?ren,

I’m sure, by now, that word of your mother has reached you. I wish I could be there with you to provide whatever comfort I could. Your mother was a good woman and much stronger than I think most gave her credit for. We spoke for a few minutes that night, and she told me how proud she was of you and the man you had become. I know it isn’t much, but I hope that you take some measure of comfort in that. She loved you dearly, S?ren.

If this letter is found, I’m sure the Kaiser will punish me severely for what I am about to say, but I think you need to hear it.

My mother was killed ten years ago, and I wish that I could tell you that it becomes easier over time, but that wouldn’t be the truth. I don’t think I will ever grow used to breathing in a world where my mother no longer does. I don’t think I will ever close my eyes at night without seeing her death all over again. I don’t think I will ever stop wanting to turn to her when I need advice or have questions. I don’t think I will ever stop feeling like there is a part of me missing.

First, you will not believe it. You’ll have to remind yourself often that she’s gone. And though you know better, part of you will still expect to see her greet your ship when you come home. She won’t, and I’m so sorry for that.

Next, you’ll grieve. It will take everything you have to get out of bed in the morning and continue with your life, but you’ll do it because that’s the kind of man you are. There are thousands depending on you right now, and you’re too good a leader to let this ruin you.

After that—or maybe even during it—you’ll become angry. You’ll be angry at the gods for taking her, you’ll be angry at your father and the court for driving her to madness in the first place, you may even be angry at me for witnessing it and being unable to stop it. It’s all right if you are, I understand.

If there is a step after anger, I haven’t yet found it.

Yours,

Thora





I start to roll the letter up, but as I do an idea strikes me and I freeze.

“If I tell S?ren that the Kaiser killed his mother, it would be enough to make the divide between them permanent,” I say aloud, partially so my Shadows can hear me and partially so I can hear the words out loud myself. “He would be furious, enough so to act out against the Kaiser publicly.”

For a moment, no one says anything.

“How can you be sure?” Blaise asks finally.

“Because I’ll make him feel that he has no choice.”

I unfold the letter and dip my quill into the inkpot once more, the pieces of the plan falling into place. It feels inevitable, in a way, as easy as toppling a pyramid of fruit by removing just one piece.

As easy as driving a dagger through his heart? A voice whispers through my mind, but I try to ignore it. I knew it would come to this; it was my idea, even. It’s the only way I can see to retake Astrea, and I am not going to change my mind now because I care for S?ren more than I thought I would.



* * *



—

The next day, I answer the door to find Elpis, sent to bring me to meet Crescentia for coffee. For a moment, I think about saying no, because every time I’m around her the guilt in my gut becomes too much to bear, but there is a part of me that always hopes and dreads that this will be the time we acknowledge what was said the night of the maskentanz.

“Just a moment,” I tell Elpis, my heart thudding in my chest. I leave her in the doorway before going back into my room, to my hiding place in the mattress to retrieve the vial of Encatrio. I’m not going to use it, but taking it should buy me some time with my Shadows, should show them that I’m willing to use it. I feel their eyes on me as I tuck it into the pocket of my gray brocade mourning gown. They give no sign of warning or encouragement—even Artemisia stays mercifully silent. Maybe they know as well as I do that it’s an empty gesture.

Elpis gives me a small smile when I meet her back at the door, and we start down the hall to the pavilion. There is little that can be said, since the halls are crowded with people. Still, having her close helps me focus. Elpis is why I’m doing all of this, why I’m playing a game I have a hard time imagining I can win, why I’m carrying a vial of poison in my pocket intended for my closest friend. Elpis, and all the people she represents, all the others who have been enslaved for as long as they can remember. All the others who are chained and beaten and hungry but still have the gall to dream of a better world. I will build it for them, but not with the bones of innocents.