Urso ignored me. “Your Grace,” he said to Svaro, who’d been watching the entire exchange from his chair. “Are you ready to take up your mantle?”
Svaro straightened. His wet hair stood on end. “Are you saying I am grand duke?” His voice was curious, even eager.
“If you wish to be,” Urso said.
“Does that mean Father is dead?” Svaro asked.
“I regret to say,” Urso said.
“Svaro, he’ll only use you,” I cut in. Urso shot an irritated look over my head to his secretary, and a moment later, a wad of cloth was shoved into my mouth.
Svaro frowned. I could see the question winding across his face. But when he nodded, it was without remorse. What could I expect? My family was my family.
“Very good.” Urso turned. “Go,” he told Eirhan. “Unless you’re going to try some poorly thought-out plan to save her.”
Eirhan’s mouth twisted in an unamused smile. “My plans are never poor.” Then he looked at me for a long moment. “I really did want to help you,” he said at last. Fury and fear mixed sickeningly in my stomach. I’d hoped, up to now, that he was playing some long game with Urso, the way he’d played me. “I warned you to think about the consequences of your actions. You have my sympathy.”
What good that would do me. I curled my lip at him, too, over my gag, but he didn’t seem fazed by it. He paused at the servants’ door, and for a moment, I thought he’d changed his mind. But the longer he watched me, the more I realized: He was only waiting to see the job through.
Urso poured a dark imported wine from the carafe into the cup. Then he picked up a tiny jar, and I didn’t have to see the ever-shifting color to know what was in it. With a little wooden spoon, he lifted a pearl from the jar, so fresh it broke as it caught on the grain. He stirred the wine, closing his eyes, concentrating. And from a little vial that held something darker than wine, he poured a few drops. I knew it. My theory was right. Stable magic. Could any blood suffice for this? Could it be synthesized, or was there some extra component to blood from Below that made it possible? Even when I was about to die, I couldn’t help wondering.
Urso crushed another pearl in a small bowl with a fresh splash of blood. He dipped his fingers in the mixture and came toward me. “Escort my lady to the Great Hall,” he said. Eirhan beckoned, and little Svaro took his hand. In his white ermine robe, he seemed so small, so fragile. He winced as the ice walls shuddered one more time, then disappeared through the servants’ entrance without once looking back. Urso’s secretary hurried after him.
I made a noise against my gag. Urso pulled it free. “I’m not my father, you know,” I said. “There are other solutions to your problems.”
Urso’s kindly face looked more sorrowful than ever. “Not for me, my lady.” And he pressed his fingers, wet with magic, to the side of my throat. As he drew them down, I felt my muscles slacken. My jaw fell open. Urso guided my head back and poured the dark, sour wine into my unresisting mouth.
“I suspect it will be quick,” he said. He didn’t draw my head back down, and I was left to stare at the blue-white ceiling, listen to his footsteps as they receded, to the deep breath he took as he came to grips with killing his second grand duke, to the click of the servants’ door closing like a blade nicking on ice. And then I was alone, with a very still Viljo sprawled across my lap.
Cold brushed like a current against my cheek. The air grew thick, hard to breathe. I tugged at the bonds around my wrists. They’d been tied tight.
Had Urso taken his supplies? I still couldn’t move my neck. But maybe—I wriggled against Viljo’s body, trying to scoot free. The edges of the ceiling began to turn dark. There was banging on the library doors, far away and fuzzy. My throat contracted as something salty-sweet filled my mouth.
So cold. My shoulders shook, and tremors traveled down my arms, chafing the bindings on my wrists. I levered my knees free of Viljo, then my feet. I tried to push up but slipped in something wet and banged my knee hard on the floor. My head cracked against the ice. I could see the table. If I could make it there, somehow—if I could get my hands out from behind my back—
A door crashed open. I barely heard the shouts. I was lifted away from the floor, and my arms were freed of their bindings. A hand slammed against my back. Water spewed out of me. It beaded on my skin. Winter roses burst on the floor, and I couldn’t tell if they were in the room or only in my mind.
My hand found Inkar’s wrist and squeezed, holding on with all the strength I had. I was glad I wouldn’t die alone. Something cracked with a sound like the ice sheet breaking.
Someone grabbed my hair, yanking me back. I jerked, but Inkar held me steady. “Calm, now,” Aino said. “You’ll be all right.” My free hand found her shoulder and clawed at it.
“Keep her steady.” Aino’s fingers worked into my mouth, shoving something against the back of my throat. Bitter iron coated my tongue before being washed away. She withdrew her hand and pushed my mouth shut. “Swallow, Ekata.” I tried to shake my head. “Yes. Calm. It will be fine.” Water all around me. “There you go,” she soothed. “You’ll be all right. Relax. There you go.”
I swallowed, choked, and hiccuped. My mouth sprang open, and I pulled in a lungful of precious air. Then another. The dark began to recede, leaving Aino and Inkar and half a dozen servants and guards staring. My lungs burbled, and I started to cough. “A bowl,” Aino snapped, and someone hurried to obey her. She slid a wooden bowl under my chin and nodded to Inkar, who leaned me forward. I vomited a thin stream into the bowl. My sinuses burned.
I was so tired of drowning.
Inkar’s and Aino’s faces came into focus before me. I expected Aino to ask the question, but she remained silent. It was Inkar who finally said, “Who was it?”
“Urso,” I said. “Among others. How did you get in?”
“We hoped the servants’ entrance wouldn’t be blocked. But we had to take the long way around,” Aino said.
“And you didn’t see anyone?”
Aino shook her head.
“We should take you to a doctor, Your Grace,” a guard said. Saljo, I thought. Inkar’s friend. I squeezed her hand again.
“Viljo first,” I said.
Two guards knelt by Viljo, while the rest observed the space where the door to the library had once been. Now there was nothing but a tangle of thorns, wild and blue, roses bursting in full bloom between them.
When I was certain that I could breathe without coughing, I stood. Aino put a hand on my shoulder. “Please, Ekata. Sit. We’ll take care of things.”
The puzzle pieces turned, and the puzzle pieces fit. I couldn’t think about the roar that grew in my mind, and I couldn’t deal with it, because the reckoning would be bad, and first I needed—“Farhod.”
“What?” Inkar said. She brushed her hand across my lips, pressed her forehead to mine. “You are just… better?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t just better. But I couldn’t think about that. “I’m going to Farhod.” And if the rest of my family hadn’t died in the last five minutes, I was going to shake this curse off once and for all.