The door opened and her father pushed in. “Lovisa! We weren’t expecting you. Is everything all right?”
“I just wanted to sleep in my own bed tonight,” she said.
“It’s late,” he said, bending down to hug her. “Did you walk all the way from campus, alone?”
“Yes,” she said, rising on her tiptoes to hug him back, pressing her face into his scarves. “And as you can see, I was perfectly safe. No marauders in the streets.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” he said, still holding her. He smelled like his teas, as usual, but his voice was a little too hearty and his breath too quick.
“What’s wrong, Papa?” she said.
He gave a short laugh, kissed her forehead, and let her go. “My perceptive girl. Have you heard about the Monsean queen?”
“Ta Varana told me.”
“Yes,” he said. “Well. Everyone’s pretty upset, including your mother. It’s a tragedy, of course, but also, we had real hopes of getting to know her, establish a strong working relationship with her. The Royal Continent has a lot of war and instability, but Queen Bitterblue has long been one of its steadier leaders. It’s just so unfortunate.”
“Is that why Mother had to leave her class this morning?” said Lovisa. “Ta told me about that too.”
“That was Vikti,” said Benni. “His health had taken a turn for the worse. But he’s better now. Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Would you like to go see him?”
“I don’t want to wake him,” she said. “Have they all been behaving themselves?”
“Viri was making your mother’s life difficult earlier, I believe, but everything’s fine now.”
Then it must be Viri up in the attic room. Viri was the youngest, only five. If he was up there, he’d be shivering right now, his arms wrapped around his knees, tears running down his face. Lovisa would have to find a way to check on him.
But she pretended not to care about that, because Viri could get into more trouble if she was caught helping him. “What about the rest of the Monseans?” she said. “Are they here?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Benni. “The plans have changed.”
“Why? Because they’re not useful to you and Mother without the queen?” Lovisa, who wasn’t afraid of her father, grinned up at him.
“My mischievous girl,” he said, touching the white streak in her hair.
“Where’s the delegation staying instead?”
“With Quona Varana.”
“Quona Varana!”
“Yes,” said Benni, a mournful tone to his voice. “We’re all a little concerned.”
“But how did that happen? They’ll sneeze themselves to death!”
“Well,” said Benni, “now that the queen is gone, everything’s changed. There’s apparently a member of their party—a young Graceling woman—who’s distraught and would benefit from time alone.”
“In a den of cat fur?”
“Quona’s house is not that bad, Lovisa,” said Benni. “Quona has so many rooms that each cat could have its own. Think about it: An isolated house on a cliff above the sea is probably perfect for them right now. I understand that the Estillan envoy suggested it at dinner tonight, then Sara and Minta seized on the idea, and you know the Varana sisters can be a force of nature.”
The shutters around Lovisa’s life closed tighter. She’d counted on meeting the Graceling, at least. And sitting across from the Monseans at dinner, hearing stories about a continent that still had kings and queens, wars, but also magic. And having something exciting to tell Katu, when he came back. She wondered suddenly if Nev, who was one of Quona’s students, would be more likely to meet the Graceling than she was.
Typical, she thought bitterly. “Why was Mother late for that dinner?” she said. “Ta was asking me about it.”
He touched her hair again, gently. “I’m sure she just lost track of time,” he said. “It’s been a distressing day. I myself stayed home. Your mother is in her study, Lovisa, if you’d like to say good night.”
A stairway behind one of Benni’s bookcases that swung like a door led directly up to Ferla’s study, connecting their private spaces. It always made Lovisa feel like Ferla might be spying on her conversations with her father. And sometimes, her father’s words felt like a warning. Your mother is angry; your mother could be listening; don’t press your luck. Benni had long been Lovisa’s safe harbor during Ferla’s storms. As a child, she’d used to escape to this library. He would tuck her into his favorite red-and-gold armchair, share the tea he was drinking, give her a book to read. If her mother came looking for her, he would stop Ferla at the door and tell her he was handling it. Shut the door, kiss Lovisa’s forehead and say to her, “Your mother loves you.”
“I think I’ll just get ready for bed,” she said.
“Did you tell someone to light your fire?”
“I will.”
“Your mother and the boys will be very happy to see you at breakfast.”
“Me too, Papa,” said Lovisa, wondering how much sneaking she could do tonight without encountering any guards, or Ferla’s mangy fox. She needed to get to Viri. She could talk to him through the door, tell him his favorite fairy tales. Viri always laughed at Lovisa’s versions of the Keeper stories, for hers were particularly irreverent. The underwater creature, who was supposedly the protector of the planet according to the silbercows, was as big as a mountain. She protected the silbercows, and in return, the silbercows took care of the sea and recruited their friends the humans to take care of the earth. So everyone was taking care of everyone, which was good, because if they didn’t, the Keeper would rise up, kill all the animals and humans, and flatten everything.
That was the part of the fairy tales that made Lovisa want to be irreverent, that lingering hint that if this hero wasn’t placated, she would destroy the world. Everyone idly mentioned that part, then moved on to the fun parts, like the Keeper tickling the undersides of human ships, or singing mesmerizing songs that soothed the enemies of the earth and sea. But the Keeper wasn’t powerful because she was just. Her power came from being big. Anyone that big could gather worshipers and call herself a hero. It made Lovisa wonder if a hero was ever anything more than a bully.
So, in Lovisa’s stories, she made the Keeper a clumsy bully who was prevented from destroying the world by tripping over her own feet, and so on. And her brothers protested, laughed, and squealed.
Lovisa’s bedroom was on the second floor, not far from her parents’. She took the back, less-guarded stairs up to the nursery wing on the third floor to do some reconnaissance. Past the schoolroom, she cracked Vikti’s bedroom door open. Vikti, who was nine, was snoring loudly in his bed, like a boy with a very congested nose. A small worry Lovisa had been carrying melted away at the sight of what looked to be a garden-variety cold.