One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)(78)

“I’ve never had any path but yours,” Jules says. “So I’ll stay with you, until the end.” She smiles impishly. “Or until the curse drives me mad.”

At the sound of approaching footsteps, they tuck back into the shadows, and Arsinoe pulls the hood of her light cloak down over her eyes. But it is only Madrigal and Caragh. And Joseph as well, found wandering out on the arena grounds.

Madrigal hands Arsinoe several skewers of different meats.

“Don’t share,” she warns her as Arsinoe takes first bites. “Some are poisoned.”

“Were you followed?” Jules asks Joseph.

“No,” he replies. “I meant to come last night, but by the time I realized you had left the ball, it was so late that I slept in the stables. Then I snuck in with the morning crowds.” He looks out at the throngs of people. “Honestly, we needn’t have bothered sneaking. Only one thing’s on people’s minds today, and it is not us.”

Caragh ducks below the beams and peers out into the stands.

“There are so many poisoners,” she says. “So many elementals.”

“Almost no naturalists,” Madrigal adds. “Not that I would’ve expected them to make the journey.”

“Jules,” Caragh says. “Look there.” She points. On the western side of the arena sits a serious-faced group wearing cloaks lined with bright red wool. They are so still that they stand out, calm in the midst of chaos.

“Who are they?” Jules asks.

“I think they are warriors. From Bastian City.”

“Are there oracles too?” Arsinoe asks. “Can they tell us what’s going to happen and relieve us of the suspense?”

The corner of Caragh’s mouth twists upward. She turns to Madrigal and says, “We should go. Back to the Volroy to be ready to free the bear. We’ll guide him out to the riverbank while the city is mostly empty.”

Madrigal frowns. It is clear she would rather stay and watch the action. But eventually she nods and goes without complaint.

“Do you think they’ll manage to do it without killing each other first?” Arsinoe wonders aloud, and Joseph comes to stand between her and Jules. He slips an arm about the shoulders of each of them.

“Where will we go?” he asks. “After this?”

“Sunpool, maybe,” says Jules. “I’ve always wanted to see it. And with so many oracles, they’ll already know we’re coming.”

“Not the ending we hoped for,” says Joseph, “but far better than the ending we feared. The only thing missing will be Billy.”

Arsinoe tries to smile. To enjoy the daydream of the three of them together at last. But a daydream is all it is. In Sunpool or anywhere else they will be hunted. Their lives will be in disguise and in secret, on the move and on the run, and what kind of a life is that? Better than no life at all, Jules would say, but Arsinoe is not so sure.

A rumble passes overhead when the gallery begins to fill with the duel’s most illustrious guests: Council members and Arrons.

“It won’t be long now, Jules,” Arsinoe says. “Are you ready?”

Jules cracks her knuckles.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Katharine tightens her leather armguard. Her bow has been restrung and her quiver filled with poisoned arrows made with fancy black and white feathers. At her belt, her slim, sharp throwing knives have been edged with enough curare to fell a horse. She also has a short-bladed sword. Though she does not intend to get close enough to use it, it would make for a fine and showy finishing strike.

“Will you take the crossbow?” Natalia asks as she buttons Katharine’s black silk vest and smooths the sleeves of her shirt.

“No. I have already used it on Arsinoe. Each of my sisters deserves her own special send-off.”

Natalia holds up Katharine’s tall, light boots. Her skirt of soft black leather will just touch the tops of them, and her maid Giselle has braided her hair into a knotted bun. There will be no long tresses to pull, nothing to get into her eyes.

“You seem so calm, Natalia,” Katharine notes. “So confident.”

“I am always calm and confident.” Natalia kneels to lace the boots. When she starts to hum, Katharine narrows her eyes. Before the ball, Natalia had been terrified. Snapping at the guards and asking where Pietyr was a hundred times. Such a change, between the ball and today.

A servant enters carrying a tray of edible poisons: belladonna berries and a savory tart of jack-o-lantern mushrooms. Fresh milk laced with more of Nicolas’s white snakeroot.

“Katharine,” Natalia cautions. “Is that wise?”

“I would not go into a duel hungry.”

“Then let me send for something else.”

Katharine cuts a large slice of tart and swallows half of the milk.

“The pain is nothing,” Katharine assures her, wiping her chin. “I have endured much worse.” She pops a berry into her mouth as her stomach starts to churn, and looks at her reflection in the mirror. She is no little girl who would turn into Natalia’s skirts and weep. She is no weak queen to be thrown down the Breccia Domain. She is outfitted for battle. And after today, she will be the next Queen Crowned.

Mirabella recovers from the poison faster than anyone dared hope, and the priestesses pray thanks to the Goddess. But it is still not fast enough.