And I . . . I didn’t know what I wanted. These thoughts were new to me; they swarmed like a hive, and I didn’t want to entertain them for too long, for fear they would overcome me.
Another bird call.
I stood but lingered, because I had one more question.
“Papa . . . why can’t I dream at night?”
“Because of me, Clem,” he said, rising to his feet. “Because of the curse in my blood. It runs through you, daughter.”
Did that mean the mountains owned a part of me? That I had a place among the clouds? Would I dream again, once the curse was broken? Where did I truly belong?
I felt divided, yearning for Hereswith and my old life. But that had been a life built upon a facade. And so I acknowledged the other half of me, which secretly longed for something new and dangerous.
Papa must have read my slant of thoughts. He continued in a low voice, “You inherited the curse, but something else as well. You also have a claim.”
“A claim?”
“To sit upon the throne.”
“Is this what you want for me, then?”
“Mere weeks ago, I wanted you to lead a normal life,” he said. “One where you could draw, paint, become a deviah magician if you wanted. I sensed the countess was hunting us when her sons arrived in Hereswith, and I fought it as long as I could. I tried to keep us from being discovered by her, so our lives could move forward here. But everything has changed now. We’ve been drawn into this century-old conflict, and you are the only one I would see end it.”
I stared at him. “How can I trust you now? After all the lies you have raised me beneath? In what world would I believe what you are telling me? In what world would I follow you up the mountain?”
My questions wounded him. Agonized, he reached for my hand. I sidestepped his touch, a knot in my throat. There was a warning in my chest, a painful scrape of stone against tendons.
“Listen to me, daughter. When we ascend the mountain tomorrow, alliances will be formed. Not all of us are promised to survive. If you want to throw your lot in with the Vespers, then by all means, you are grown and your own person. But if you want to take the throne, you have my support, as well as the duke’s.”
“The duke’s?” I remembered how my father had met with Lord Deryn one afternoon not so long ago. How his hand had smelled of bergamot. A cologne the duke must wear to hide his true scent—that rotting smell of parchment.
“For years I protected Mazarine for him,” my father said. “And now the time has finally come for me to call in a favor; he will support your claim to Seren, should you desire it.”
Another bird call, this time more insistent. I didn’t want him to see how his words had affected me and I asked, “Was the Duke of Seren good or cruel?”
Papa had never told me mountain legends when I was a girl. Imonie had occasionally, and her myths had depicted the duke as an oppressor. But I wanted to hear what my father thought.
“He was cruel, Clem. A man bent by selfishness. But that doesn’t absolve me for what I did. What I planned as a member of his court. And it’s all the more reason why I refuse to see someone unworthy take the throne again.”
I nodded and slipped from the tent. I tried to put myself in his place, in Imonie’s place. What would I do if I was in the court of a cruel person? Was it right to kill them? I kept to the shadows, tossing off my stealth charm halfway to my tent.
I entered through the canvas door. I heard the clink of beads, the rustle of fabric, and I startled to see the countess standing there.
“Lady,” I said, rigid with shock. I felt a spasm of fear that she had uncovered my journal with my exposé, which was sitting just behind her, tucked away in my satchel. What would she do to me if she read it?
“Where were you?” she asked.
“Visiting the privy.”
“For ten minutes?”
“I had to walk a good way to find a private place,” I said. “Your servants mill around the camp like ants.”
She was pensive for a moment, as if weighing my voice for a lie.
“May I help you with something?” I asked.
“You and my son have quarreled,” she stated tersely. “What about?”
“I think you should ask him, lady.”
“I have, and he will not tell me.” She pulled her fur cloak tighter about her, but her eyes never left mine. “Whatever has come between you . . . you need to settle it before we arrive at the fortress tomorrow morning.”
I sighed. “What is this truly about, Lady Raven?”
“Phelan cares for you, Anna,” she said, and I couldn’t help it: my mouth fell open, drawing a snicker from her. “Do not act so surprised. Any fool could see it.”
“Any fool could see he can hardly bear to look at me.”
“That may be, but I know my son very well. And when he does allow himself to look at you, there is an ocean in his eyes,” the countess said. “I will not see you usher his downfall.”
“His downfall? Lady Raven . . . I am his partner.” A partner who had once schemed of gathering all his family’s dirt and publishing it in the paper. A partner who had once drawn his blood with a rapier and reveled in his groveling.
She wasn’t wrong to doubt me.
“Partners have turned on each other before,” she countered. “I want you to swear allegiance to my family. Your vow will come into great importance when we stand in the fortress hall tomorrow, when the curse realizes we have all returned to the place of our betrayal.”
The last thing I wanted was to swear my allegiance to the Vespers.
My father’s words rang in my thoughts; I had his support, as well as the duke’s, although I was reluctant to believe it just yet. I could most likely also garner Mazarine’s support. But I didn’t know if I desired any of it. I hoped I would have a better sense of what to do and what I wanted when I reached the summit.
In the meantime, I held an advantage, and I wasn’t afraid to play it.
“I will swear my allegiance to you, Lady Vesper,” I said. “I will fight on your behalf until the curse is broken and the mountain duchy is restored.”
“Good, Anna. Come, kneel before me and give me your vow.”
I did as she wanted.
I knelt among the blankets and furs of my makeshift bed and held out my right hand. She unsheathed a small dagger from her belt and bestowed a quick, shallow slice to my palm. The wound stung as I spoke my vow to her.
“I, Anna Neven of Endellion, pledge myself and my magic to your service, Lady Raven Vesper, Countess of Amarys. I will serve you and your family from this moment until the curse breaks on the mountain and the Seren Duchy is restored. Should I break my word, you have the power to bring me harm by whatever way you see fit, according to my betrayal.”
She nodded, pleased with my words.
I rose and she wrapped the wound on my hand with a strip of cloth torn from one of the blankets.
“The first thing I ask of you is to make amends with Phelan,” she said. “You once guarded his back on the new moon nights in Endellion. I would ask it of you again.”
“You believe someone in our circle would harm him?” I asked.
She nodded, and I could sense she was warring with her words. To tell me or to withhold what she thought. When she continued to hesitate, I said, “The duke, perhaps?”