The Third Daughter, page 23
“You mean Tal will tell you what to do?” Cleo said flatly.
Elodie shot her sister a sharp look. “I know what I’m doing.”
Rob took a loud sip of his tea. His silence was pointed.
Elodie rounded on him. “I’m the one who should be angry here, Rob. You pushed me into the arms of the Loyalists and didn’t tell me that you were working with Tal. I thought the Chaplain was going to imprison me in a tower and leave me to rot.” She glowered at him. “What was all your scheming for if you didn’t want me to join forces with Tal?”
Rob’s hands began to shake. He clenched them into fists. “Forgive me for caring about Brianne.”
“There’s no need to be sanctimonious, Rob.” Elodie hated the way she was speaking to her brother, hated the anger he was inspiring in her. They’d always been of one mind, had always been close. They’d never had cause to fight this way. But then, she supposed, that was why her brother had finally boiled over.
Cleo was watching her older siblings guardedly.
“Fine,” Elodie sniffed, trying to tamp down the unease bubbling in her stomach, “I’ll get dressed myself.”
She made for Cleo’s closet, an entire room draped in lace and satin and silk. She riffled through gowns of midnight blue and sunrise orange, pausing as she examined a soft pink gown she’d been missing for months.
“Thief!”
Cleo, who had followed Elodie into the closet, hardly blinked. “It looks better on me.”
“Just for that,” Elodie said, beginning to unhook the dress’s never-ending trail of buttons, “this will be my coronation gown. Everyone will see me wearing it, and you’ll never be able to steal it again.”
She shrugged off her stained gray dress and pulled the pink garment on over her head, mussing up her hair even further in the process.
“Lady above.” Cleo rolled her eyes. “You look awful. Come here.” She moved toward the vanity and motioned for Elodie to sit on the velvet stool. Cleo reached for a brush and began to run it through Elodie’s tangles.
“Have you really thought about this?” Cleo caught Elodie’s eyes in the mirror. They were bright with worry.
“No,” Elodie admitted. “But sometimes bold decisions are the best ones.” She winced as the bristles caught a particularly nasty tangle. “Why’s Rob pouting, anyway? Was he like that before I got here?”
Cleo sighed. “He’ll be fine. He’s just jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Everything always favors Elodie.” Cleo started brushing faster. “Plus, Tal’s back, which of course has him reeling.”
Elodie frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Cleo stared incredulously at her sister, her wide eyes reflected in the mirror. “You’re joking, right?” Elodie shook her head uncomprehendingly. “Rob’s been in love with Tal since he was a child,” Cleo said, extracting the bristles from her sister’s hair. “You had to have known. He was always mooning over him; it was all he ever talked about.” She rolled her eyes. “When Tal left, Rob locked himself in his room for weeks. I had to convince him not to enlist.”
Elodie blanched. “You’re lying.”
Cleo raised her eyebrows. “I’m not. It’s your own fault you didn’t notice.”
“What about Avery?” Elodie was completely nonplussed.
“A person can have more than one crush, Elodie,” Cleo said flatly. “Besides, it’s been two years.” Cleo’s fingers moved quickly as she braided a pink ribbon into Elodie’s hair. “Just be careful, okay? When it comes to the Warnous, Tal seems to have a gift for getting under our skin. Be sure you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Elodie said, sounding more certain than she truly felt.
“All right,” Cleo said warily. “I trust you.” She gave Elodie’s hair a final once-over. “But I don’t trust Tal. You’re done.”
“Thanks, Cleo.” Elodie reached for her sister’s hand.
“Any time, Your Majesty.” Cleo gave her sister a dramatic curtsy before sashaying back into the sitting room.
Elodie followed, brain buzzing. She had thought she and her brother were close. But for Rob to have been harboring romantic feelings for their best friend, surely Elodie would have noticed. Surely Rob would have confided in her.
Their brother sat, glowering on the chaise longue, exactly as they’d left him.
“Rob, I—” Elodie wanted to make amends, needed to see her brother’s easy smile. But before she could launch into a full apology, there was a knock on Cleo’s door.
She expected Loyalists. But it was Tal. The moment he entered the room, Rob stiffened. It was suddenly clear, exactly as Cleo had said. Elodie simply hadn’t been paying close enough attention.
Tal grinned as he took in Elodie’s appearance. “You clean up nice, Lo.”
“You’re welcome,” Cleo muttered. Rob continued to frown.
Tal turned to him. “You can’t attend a coronation with sugar on your shirt.”
Rob jolted to attention, nervously swiping at his shirt. “I didn’t think you needed me.”
“Of course I need you,” Tal said easily, and Rob’s expression softened. “Get up. Cleo, you too,” he added as an afterthought.
They were a strange parade, the three Warnou siblings led by Tal and trailed by a band of Loyalists. Several clergy folk, including a begrudging Chaplain, made up the rear. They moved swiftly through the castle into the courtyard and loaded themselves into waiting carriages. Tal pulled Elodie to sit beside him. She avoided eye contact with both Rob and Cleo.
“Now here’s how this will go.” Tal spoke in hushed tones. “We sent word ahead to gather citizens from the Iron, Garden, and Commerce Districts. We have allies there.”
“How will we explain away the Chaplain’s edict?” Elodie could not shake the roar of the crowd during the last public outing. The people of Velle had embraced the Church so easily. She could hardly imagine this change in leadership being announced as smoothly.
“Shouldn’t be too difficult.” Tal shrugged. “We simply let them know the Third Daughter has passed on.”
“What?” Elodie’s blood ran cold. “Is she—?”
“No, of course not,” Tal said quickly, putting a hand on Elodie’s in reassurance. “This will simply eliminate any confusion over royal hierarchy. It also removes any threat of someone trying to wake her up.” He laughed softly. “She’ll be safer this way. I swear it.”
Elodie’s stomach churned, but she chalked it up to nerves. This was what she had wanted, after all. The only difference was that she had to let go of Brianne. Leave her asleep for good.
But sleep wasn’t so awful as death, Elodie rationalized. And perhaps, after some time—once she better understood the Second Son and the conversion was complete—she could plead for her sister’s mortal being. Elodie was certain she could find a way to convince the powers at play to bring back her sister, one day.
Elodie would be Queen of Velle, after all. Surely that mattered. Surely that meant she would have a say.
Although it had stopped raining, the cobblestones were slick beneath the clattering hooves of horses. The driver directed their carriage the long way to the church, ensuring that the royal seal would be spotted by as many people as possible en route. And indeed, it worked. A battalion of merchants, shopkeepers, and citizens followed in the caravan’s wake.
At the church, they exited the carriage and Tal led Elodie up the stairs to the bell tower. With every step he looked back at her with a reassuring smile.
“He is so grateful,” Tal said, squeezing her hand. “He couldn’t have done this without you. I couldn’t do this without you.”
Elodie exhaled, trying to calm her nerves.
“Are you ready?” Tal gestured to a Loyalist who carried the chest that housed the crown. The guard opened the box. Tal flung the doors to the balcony open. “Let’s change the world.”
34
The air bit at Sabine’s face as she made her way down Harborside’s main thoroughfare. After the rain, the neighborhood felt fresh, the cobblestones were clear and the windows glistened in the fading daylight.
Faster, her darkness urged, but Sabine didn’t know where it wanted her to go. She needed to find Elodie, needed to reach Castle Warnou, but she did not know the way.
At first she thought to reenter the sewers, even though abandoning the crisp post-rain air felt like a crime. If the sewers were an escape route from the castle, then surely they also provided a way in.
But before Sabine could turn in to the alleyway that led to the trapdoor, she stumbled upon a commotion, a crowd of Harborside residents shouting wildly at a battalion of red-clad guards. The Loyalists stood side by side, creating a human barricade, keeping those from Harborside behind their line.
“What’s happening?” Sabine turned to the person next to her, a woman called Breta who grew potatoes in her cellar to sell at the morning market. “What’s going on?”
“Something’s afoot, dear,” Breta said, her forehead furrowed. “Tom the errand boy caught word from a town crier in the Iron District that there’s an announcement from the Church. Something about the Third Daughter.”
Sabine gasped. “Has she woken up?”
If Elodie had been able to accomplish what she’d so desperately wanted, perhaps she would be more likely to grant Sabine an audience with her. Perhaps Sabine even had a true chance at forgiveness.
“Don’t know, Sabine.” Breta shook her head. “They won’t let us through.” She jerked a thumb at the Loyalists’ grim faces.
“Why not?”
“Says we’re not worthy,” said a man in front of them. “We’re too poor and dirty to look upon the queen.”
“That’s not what they said,” snapped a woman to his left. The man raised his eyebrows. “But it’s what they implied,” she acquiesced.
“That’s ridiculous.” Sabine had spent her entire life being discounted, called names and easily dismissed, because of where she was born and who she had come from. “That’s not a good enough reason.”
Why don’t you do something about it? her darkness goaded.
Sabine didn’t give herself a chance to hesitate. “Excuse me,” she said, squirming between the throng of bodies, making her way forward even as her heart pounded in her throat.
For so long she had been made to feel like nothing, like no one, someone impossible for even her family to love. But now she held a truth no one could take from her. She was a third daughter. The Third Daughter. And she would show the world what that meant.
Face-to-face with the guards, however, Sabine balked.
“Get back,” one spat, spittle flying precariously close to her cheek.
“Why won’t you let us through?” Sabine had meant to sound commanding, but her voice cracked, ending her question with a squeak.
“Ooooh, fearsome, this one,” said the guard beside the first, his laughter as shrill as a hawk’s screech. “Might have to detain her.” His eyes were predatory.
“Leave it, Winn,” said the first. His gaze was fixed on the ground. “Don’t want to get mixed up with the likes of them, or you’ll be exiled next.”
“Exiled?” Sabine blanched. “But we’re Velle citizens.”
“Not for long.” The first guard shrugged. “The New Maiden does not smile on you. And so the crown is building a new border.”
“Leaving us on the outside,” Sabine finished for him.
The first guard nodded. “Go on, then,” he said, waving her away. “There’s no way past us. It’s not just our jobs on the line. It’s our faith.” He glanced up at her quickly, then down to the ground again.
Seems like the faithful are falling away from you, her darkness said. Call them back.
But it wasn’t so simple. The guards had their orders. They believed they knew who they served. Sabine could not simply blurt out the truth. She would be skewered for blasphemy. And Katrynn’s jokes aside, those Loyalist swords were sharp.
That night at the midnight market felt so far away now. Sabine had left her sister on that ship for days, Katrynn’s resentment allowed to ferment like the beer brewed in bathtubs in some of Harborside’s dirtier taverns. If she did not rescue her sister soon, Katrynn would never deign to look upon Sabine again, reincarnated deity or not. Katrynn could hold a grudge.
Speaking of grudges… Sabine scoured the crowd, searching for Artur’s blond head, but the throng of frustrated people was too dense. When she was jostled forward, ramming into the wolfish guard, she extricated herself quickly, then ducked back the way she came. She needed a new route. Perhaps the sewers would do, after all.
She kept to the edges of the crowd, soaking in her neighbors’ frustration and anger. These were good people, worthwhile folks who had done everything expected of them and still ended up cast aside by the Church. Harborside didn’t deserve this. Not when the New Maiden had emerged as one of them.
A girl made of sea and salt and sadness, the Archivist had told her. Come to save us all.
Sabine had backtracked enough that she was at the cemetery, the tall iron gates more intimidating when shut. The fencing was too tall to climb, the bars too close together to slip through. Though, just for good measure, the Loyalists had chained and locked the gates, too.
Sabine exhaled sharply. It was the same kind of padlock that had appeared on the door of Harborside’s church. The same padlock that had sparked Harborside’s decline. The same one that threatened this new tentative way of life her neighborhood had built for themselves.
First they took your faith, her darkness whispered. Next they’ll sequester you, and let you eliminate yourselves.
Sabine couldn’t allow it. Especially not as her neighbors began to deplete, their anger turning to defeat. Elodie had told her once that she was brave, to do what she did. To give up so much for the people she loved. She needed that sort of conviction now more than ever. She rattled the gates desperately. Unsurprisingly, the chain did not budge.
You look ridiculous.
“I don’t care.” It was the first time she’d purposefully engaged with her darkness aloud. It made her feel safer, releasing her words into the evening air. She began to smack the padlock against the iron of the gate. It clanged dully but did not dent.
That isn’t how you pick a lock.
“How do you know?”
Because unlike you, I am everywhere. Which means I know all things.
“So go on, then,” Sabine said, frustrated. “Help me.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command. And to Sabine’s shock and utter delight, the darkness listened. Although she couldn’t see it, she could feel it dispelling from around her and slithering through the keyhole, twisting, turning, and picking the lock until it released a soft click and the chain clattered to the ground.
“Oh.” That one syllable held more weight than she could carry. Sabine reveled in that single breath of power. It was the first time she had truly felt like magic.
“This way,” she called, her voice catching as she struggled to understand what she had done. But even more surprising was that when she called, her people answered. As her neighbors streamed through the cemetery toward the square, Sabine nearly wept a new kind of tear.
Once, it seemed as though she would only ever whisper. But her screams held power, too. She followed the flood of people flocking to the city square. A giant crowd had gathered, much larger than the procession the Chaplain had organized. But instead of lingering near the back, the way she always had before, Sabine pushed her way to the front. She needed to know the news.
A man stood at the balcony of the bell tower: not the Chaplain, but someone much younger. He was tall and tanned, his face boasting a sharp nose and wide jaw, his hair a mess of dark curls that glinted almost blue in the light. Unease stirred within Sabine as she recognized him as the Loyalist who had set her darkness screaming. To the stranger’s right was the Chaplain, who had taken off the ridiculous crown and instead stared at the young man with murder in his eyes.
To the man’s left was Elodie. Sabine nearly called to her. The princess’s eyes were wide, her lip bitten between her teeth as she listened to the man speak.
“It is a new dawn for Velle,” he shouted, shoulders back and eyes blazing. “We welcome in a new age. A new era. A new ruler.” He turned to Elodie. “I introduce to you now the first daughter, Elodie Warnou.” He lifted a gold crown from a wooden box and set it upon Elodie’s head. “Your queen.”
Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.
“But what of the New Maiden?” called someone.
“Where is the Third Daughter?” asked another.
“The New Maiden is no longer able to serve,” said the man, voice clanging like a bell through the assembled crowd. “But a Warnou woman still wears the crown.” He put a hand on Elodie’s back. Sabine watched the princess hesitate.
Lies spread quick from false prophets, the darkness hissed. Set them straight. Show them the truth.
Sabine glanced up at the bell tower, so tall that her voice would not reach the ears of those standing above. “They won’t be able to hear me,” she whispered, frustrated. Tears began to prickle at the corners of her eyes. “They will not listen.”
Then make them.
Sabine’s throat began to burn, as though she had consumed hot coals. She gasped, barely able to swallow through the pain.
Speak, the darkness urged her. Before it is too late.
Sabine took a step forward. “You claim the New Maiden cannot serve,” she said, startled as her voice thundered through the city square, at ten times its usual volume, “yet here I stand before you.” Her words were clear as a whistle, drowning out the clamoring of the gathered audience. Those around her fell silent and began to back away, offering her a wide berth. The shift in the crowd alerted those in the bell tower to Sabine’s location.
Elodie was the first to spot her. Her eyes widened, first with shock, then concern. But the man beside the princess only looked angry.
“Who, pray tell, are you?” he called down to her coldly.
