Forging Silver into Stars

The soldiers don’t allow me or Nora into the barn. I worry about the hens, about Muddy May, but the soldiers bring me buckets of eggs and milk every morning, so at least the animals seem to be tended. I worry about Jax, about Alek, about all the choices I’ve made over the last few months and whether they’ve been the right ones.

The day after Jax was to leave, I heard clanging up at the forge, and I don’t know what it means—and I’m too nervous to go check. There are too many soldiers here. Too many guards. It’s … weird. Nora peers out the windows every night.

“What do they want?” she’ll whisper. “Did Lord Alek send them?”

“I don’t think so,” I say, remembering the way Lady Karyl told me to burn his message.

I didn’t. It’s under my mattress near all of Mother’s old gear. I’ve read it a dozen times, but I don’t understand why she’d tell me to burn it without reading it. Our plans have changed. Burn it. Is Lady Karyl tricking me? Or was Alek tricking me?

On the seventh night, Nora is lightly snoring beside me when I hear a sound down in the bakery. I freeze in place, thinking of Alek. The worst part is that I can’t decide if I’d be relieved by his presence right now, or alarmed.

I slip out of bed in my sleeping shift and move to the top of the stairs.

Down below, a shadow slides along the far wall, and my heart clenches. But then I hear a tiny voice whisper, “More sweetcakes!”

I frown, hesitating, then ease down a few steps as silently as I dare.

There in the middle of the bakery, carefully licking frosting off her fingers, is a little girl no more than three or four years old. Her clothes are filthy and ragged, her curly hair a wild mane of tangles that reach her waist.

No Alek. No soldiers. No Lady Karyl.

Oh good. Now I have more questions.

I ease down a few more steps, and she spots me. Her eyes grow wide and she gasps, her expression trapped in that moment between fear and curiosity. I know it well from Nora.

I may not know how to stop an assassination, but I know how to be a big sister. I don’t want her to be afraid of me, so I smile. “Where did you come from?” I whisper, peeking around like we’re co-conspirators.

“I’m sneaking,” she says.

“I see that.” I hesitate. “Can I have a sweetcake, too?”

She studies me for a moment, then must decide I’m acceptable, because she smiles back and nods.

I come down into the bakery and take one off the platter. The fire in the hearth has gone to embers, but up close, I can see that the girl’s hair is as red as Alek’s. “I’m Callyn,” I say. “What’s your name?”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Callyn,” she says prettily, then curtsies as perfectly as a noble from one of the Royal Houses, completely at odds with the stained and wrinkled skirts she’s wearing—or the fact that we’re standing in the middle of my little bakery, and I’m no lady. I smile, bemused, until she adds in her tiny voice, “My name is Sinna Cataleha, but that takes too long, so everyone calls me Sinna.”

My heart stops before she gets to the end of that sentence. I’m frozen in place. That bite of sweetcake turns to stone in my mouth.

I have to force myself to speak. “Sinna?” I say, and my voice is strangled. “Sinna, like the princess?”

She nods emphatically and takes another sweetcake. “Mama says we’re playing a game with Da, but I don’t like it very much.”

I don’t know what to do. Why would the princess be inside my bakery in the middle of the night? Where did she come from? We’re four hours from the Crystal Palace!

While I’m standing there deliberating, I hear a shout from outside—followed by a woman yelling. The voice is raw and strangled—and loud. “Where is she? What did you do to her?”

Soldiers are shouting now, too. They’re going to wake Nora.

Sinna’s face turns white, and she drops the sweetcake. Her voice is a whispered rush. “Mama is cross.”

Mama. The queen.

I’m sure my face is white.

I don’t know what’s happening, but I do know I don’t want to be a part of it.

The woman outside is still shouting, her tone turning panicked. “I have done as you asked! You will give me back my daughter!” she screams in rage. “You will let me go!”

Sinna’s lower lip begins to tremble.

I scoop her into my arms. “Let’s go make sure your Mama is all right.”

I expect her to struggle, but she wraps her arms around my neck, tangling her sticky fingers in my hair. I burst through the door and a dozen crossbows are suddenly pointed in my direction.

A dozen more are pointed at the woman standing in the barn doorway. Her skirts are as rumpled and filthy as Sinna’s, but there’s no mistaking the power in her stance, the assuredness of her expression, as if being queen was a quality that could fill the very air around her.

“Don’t shoot!” I cry. “The princess snuck into the bakery.”

“Oh, Sinna,” the queen says, her voice half relieved, half a sob.

One of the guards approaches me. “I’ll take her.”

Sinna cringes away from him, clutching my neck and squealing.

“Don’t you touch her,” the queen says, and there’s a vicious note in her voice that makes me shiver—and makes the guard hesitate.

I glance from the guard to the queen. “She’s not hurt,” I call to her. “She just ate some sweetcakes. I didn’t—I didn’t know who she was.”

The queen stares back at me, and it feels like she’s studying every fiber of my being, judging me by measure.

I remember standing with Jax in the bakery, when we discussed the first note. How the palace and the royal family felt so far off.

It’s just one note, I remember thinking.

As I stare across the yard at the queen, as I feel her daughter’s shaking breath in my ear, I realize it’s about more than one note.

I don’t know what Alek did, or where the king is, or what Jax was able to do.

But I know what I’ve done. And I don’t know if I can undo it.

“I can bring her to you,” I call.

The guard looks to someone else: a superior officer. The woman nods.

I don’t waste time. As I stride across the distance between us, I feel as though a thousand eyes are on me.

“Mama is mad,” Sinna whispers in my ear.

“She’s not mad at you,” I whisper back.

When I reach the queen, I discover details I couldn’t see from the bakery door. Her cheek and jaw are shadowed with dark bruises, and a split on her lip has scabbed over. Long red hair is roped into a braid, but tendrils have escaped to frame her face. Blood speckles her clothes, including one long streak on her sleeve. Her eyes are like steel.

“Mama,” Sinna says lightly, without letting go of my neck, “this is Lady Callyn. She gave me sweetcakes.”

There are so many guards surrounding us. I’m afraid to let go of the little girl—and also afraid to keep standing here. But the queen’s eyes are on mine, and she’s in worse shape than I am. If she can stand here stoically, so can I.

“Are you unwell?” I say quickly. “Are you—”

“I am being held against my will.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” I say. “I didn’t—I didn’t know—”

“You must know something,” the queen says, her voice dangerously quiet, “or they would not have brought us here.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I had no idea,” I whisper, and my voice breaks. “I only held messages for Lord Alek and Lady Karyl. He never—they never—I thought—”

I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I’m not sure how to tell the injured woman in front of me that I thought they might be plotting against her husband, the king.

I don’t know how to tell her that I might have been helping them.

“I didn’t know what I thought,” I finish.

She says nothing to that. “Sinna,” she says softly, then raises her arms.

The little girl goes to her mother, clinging to her neck the way she did to mine.

“The woman you know as ‘Lady Karyl’ is a traitor,” the queen says firmly. Loudly. “Lord Alek may be as well.”

One of the guards snorts. “The king is the traitor. Get back in the barn.”

She glares at him. “You are the traitors.”

He lifts his crossbow. “I don’t have to kill you to make you regret that—”

“No.” My heart is pounding, but I step in front of him. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but please. Just stop.” I don’t know what kind of person would point a crossbow at a mother holding her child, much less the queen.

“You don’t need to risk yourself,” the queen says. “They won’t dare to put an arrow through me. The king’s magic will find and destroy anyone who tries.” She pauses. “They know what happened the first time they attacked the castle. They are clearly eager to meet the same fate.”

My mouth goes dry. I don’t know what’s right anymore. I don’t know what’s wrong.

“Mama,” says Sinna. “I don’t like this game anymore. When will it be over?”

The guard hasn’t lowered his crossbow. “Go back in the barn,” he bites out.

What the queen said clearly unnerved him.

“I will go,” she says to him. “But you will not touch my child.”

I turn before she can leave. My eyes search her bruised face. “Are you hurt?” I say. “Do you need supplies?”

She studies me for a long moment, then says loudly, “You will come with me. I will give you a list of what we need.”

She doesn’t even look at the guard for approval; she simply turns and steps into the barn as if it’s as regal a building as the Crystal Palace.

If I look at him, I’m going to falter, so I scurry after her, hoping I’m not going to get an arrow in my back for my trouble—and hoping Nora won’t wake up and come looking for me.

The queen walks to the far corner of the barn, where I store hay and straw for the animals. A lantern is hung from one of the posts, and a few random quilts are laid out over the ground and the hay bales.

I can’t help but stare. “Is this where you’ve been sleeping?”

“It’s not the worst place I’ve ever slept.” She lays her child on one of the quilts, then tucks the blanket up and around her. “You’re wasting time. They won’t allow you to stay here with me for long. Who are you? Why are they holding me here?”

“Your Majesty, I’m—I’m no one. I’m just a baker.”

“There must be a reason they chose this place. Lady Karyl is a governess from the Crystal City. Her real name is Lady Clarinas Rial—or maybe Lady Karyl is her real name, and she presented us with a false one.” The queen sighs. “She has no relation to Alek. She should have no business here. You said Lady Clarinas—I mean, Lady Karyl has been sending messages through you?”

“Yes—but they’re always sealed. I don’t know what they say.” I hesitate. “Did they hurt you?” I cast a glance at her midsection. Her clothes are too rumpled and stained for me to tell anything, but I remember all the gossip about the queen’s pregnancy. “Is the baby …” I let my voice trail off.

“There is no baby anymore,” she says, and even though her voice doesn’t waver, the words are hollow.

I gasp. “They—they beat you so badly—”

“I will not speak of this with my captors, Callyn. And certainly not in front of my daughter.”

I freeze. Sinna is watching us both with wide eyes. “I’m not your captor,” I whisper. “I swear. I didn’t know they were doing … this. We thought—” I break off, glancing at the tiny princess again.

“You thought what?” says the queen.

“We thought the target was the king. His magic.”

“The king is my husband. The father of my child. An attack on him is an attack on me. If you think otherwise, you are fooling yourself.”

“I know. I know that now.”

“Did they force you to carry these messages?”

I swallow. “No.”

“They paid you?” Her eyebrows go up.

“Yes,” I admit softly.

“And you knew they were associated with the Truthbringers?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Now it’s my voice that sounds hollow.

She studies me for a long moment, thinking. “A baker. You’re the baker Tycho met, aren’t you? Does that mean we’re in Briarlock?”

“Lord Tycho mentioned me?”

Something in her gaze sharpens—or maybe it shatters. Her eyes gleam in the dim lantern light. “Is Tycho a part of this, Callyn?” she whispers.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” I pause. “It’s Jax who’s seen him more than I have. He’s the blacksmith.”

She doesn’t look reassured. “Jacob said that the blacksmith was found with marks of the Truthbringers, too.”

I bite at my lip. “We wanted to break the seal. We wanted to see what kind of messages we were carrying.”

“And what did you discover? What are they planning?”

“I don’t know! Truly. We were only able to open one letter, and it looked like a plot to kill the king—”

Sinna gasps and sits up. “Da!”

“Hush,” says the queen, and her voice is soothing, no hint of tension. “This is all part of our game, remember? We need to solve the puzzle.”

Sinna lies back down, but she doesn’t look convinced.

“The message from Alek said Father will be on the fields to observe,” I say to the queen. “Use your best arrows, and do not miss your target.”

She goes very still. “Father has been a reference to the king.”

“But Lady Karyl didn’t take the message,” I say. “She told me to burn it. So I don’t know if the plot was real—or if she was trying to mislead someone else.” Like Alek, I think. I pause, trying to work that out in my head, but it’s too complicated. “That’s the day she arrived with the guards.” I think of the covered wagon, which was clearly hiding the queen and her daughter. “The day you arrived here.”

“They’re holding us here for a reason.” She presses a hand to her abdomen like it pains her. “It doesn’t matter. Grey is days away in Emberfall. They must know that. Everyone knows that.”

She’s right. Even I know it. And if Jax is able to get to Emberfall to share the message with Tycho, it’ll take days—maybe weeks!—before he’ll be able to return to Briarlock. And even then, there’d be no reason for the king and his entourage to stop here. They’d head straight for the Crystal Palace.

I think of the clanging I’ve heard at the forge. I don’t know if Jax went at all.

The queen is stroking her fingers over Sinna’s hair now, and the little girl’s eyes drift closed. I watch the motion for a moment, then remember something Alek said about the king’s magic only being extended to a select few.

“Do you not have rings like Tycho’s?” I say in surprise.

She looks at me ruefully. “I did. But they were smart. They attacked Sinna first. I was forced to remove them.”

“Won’t people in the palace know you’re missing?” I say quietly.

She sniffs, then swipes at her face. “Most everyone of importance went to Emberfall with Grey. Lady Clarinas thought a series of spring visits to my Royal Houses would be an enjoyable way to pass the time. That it would give Sinna a bit of fresh air since the baby—” Her voice breaks, and she drops to sit on the hay bale. “I was so foolish.”

The guard opens the door. “That’s enough time,” he barks.

I shift to leave—but hesitate. “I’m going to figure out a way to help you,” I say. “You weren’t foolish. I was.”

She looks up at me. “I always wish for the best for my people, Callyn. I always expect the best. I know it is seen as a weakness. I have heard the gossip. The rumors that I am not as strong as my mother. That my husband has somehow tricked me or is using his magic against me.” Her voice turns to steel, and she glances at the guard in the doorway. “But expecting more from my people is not a weakness. It is hope. It is patience. It is grace. But those virtues don’t mean the absence of viciousness. The true weakness is to think a queen is powerless.”

“Just wait,” calls the guard. “We’ll see who’s powerless.”

“Yes. You will see. Because when you fail—and you will fail—you will learn that I am stronger than my mother. You will learn that the king’s magic reaches farther than you even imagine.” Her eyes flash with danger. “And you will learn that instead of standing here pointing a weapon at my child, you and the rest of the traitors should have been finding a place to hide.”