Ten Bells
Serali woke because something hurt.
This was not particularly useful information.
She remained still beneath the blankets and conducted a more thorough assessment.
Shoulder.
Ribs.
Back.
One knee, for reasons she could not immediately explain.
Her left forearm where the silver-grey cord had tightened around it.
Serali opened her eyes.
Morning had advanced considerably without her permission.
Sunlight filled the gap between the curtains, bright enough to turn the familiar edges of her bedroom gold. Somewhere beyond the windows, the palace was awake.
Quietly.
Not the ordinary morning machinery of trays, doors, bells, servants, guards, councilors, petitioners, and whatever crisis had decided it deserved priority before breakfast.
This morning sounded subdued.
As though the entire palace had gone to bed after dawn and collectively agreed not to mention it.
Serali understood.
She shifted.
Pain objected.
She stopped.
“Bad?” The voice came from beside her.
Serali turned her head.
Allandra was awake.
Barely.
Her hair had escaped almost entirely from whatever arrangement it had occupied yesterday. One side was flattened against the pillow. The other had become an argument with gravity.
Serali stared.
Allandra narrowed sleepy green eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
“I have simply never seen the Queen of Avalusia lose a battle with a pillow.”
Allandra lifted one hand toward her hair.
Stopped halfway.
Her face tightened.
Serali immediately lost the smile. “Your shoulder?”
“Arm.”
“Which one?”
“Both, apparently.”
“That seems excessive.”
“So does being attacked during First Sun.”
“Fair.”
Allandra let her hand fall.
For several seconds neither of them moved.
That was unusual enough to feel luxurious.
No council.
No screaming.
No Lyehiran voice saying Princess Serali Xuiven as though the months between Lyehira and now had never existed.
No dagger reaching for her wrist.
Just sunlight.
Blankets.
Allandra beside her.
Serali became aware, slowly, that one of Allandra’s hands still rested loosely against her waist beneath the blankets.
Not holding.
Simply there.
Serali looked down at it.
Before they slept, she had asked Allandra to stay.
Not because of the bond.
Not because either of them had been half-mad with wanting.
Because she had wanted her close.
The memory should have embarrassed her.
It did.
Slightly.
Not enough to move.
Allandra’s thumb brushed once against her side. “You’re thinking.”
“A dangerous accusation before breakfast.”
“I don’t think it is before breakfast anymore.”
Serali glanced toward the windows. “That sounds like a problem we should discuss over breakfast.”
Allandra smiled.
Then the palace clock began striking.
Serali counted automatically.
One.
Two.
Three.
By eight she had become concerned.
By nine offended.
By ten, Allandra had started laughing.
Serali looked at her. “That cannot be correct.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“We slept until ten bells?”
“We went to sleep after sunrise.”
“I know, but ten.”
Allandra’s laughter softened.
Serali settled back against the pillow. “This kingdom is badly governed.”
“Clearly.”
“The Queen is still in bed.”
“The Royal Mage is also still in bed.”
“The Royal Mage was nearly abducted twice.”
“So was the Queen.”
Serali frowned. “You were not.”
“They attacked my family, my guards, my festival, and my Royal Mage. I feel I can claim some portion of the inconvenience.”
Something in Serali’s chest warmed.
She ignored it.
Naturally.
“How is Everly?”
“Asleep when I came here.”
“That was several hours ago.”
“Yes.”
Serali stared toward the ceiling.
Allandra did the same.
After a moment, Serali said, “Do you think she stayed asleep?”
“No.”
A muffled sound came from the sitting room.
Both of them froze.
Another sound.
Higher.
Familiar.
Serali closed her eyes.
Allandra whispered, “That is my daughter.”
“I know.”
A second voice joined the first.
Lower.
Male.
Distinctly amused.
Allandra’s eyes opened wider.
Serali looked at her. “That,” she said, “is your brother.”
“I know.”
They stared at one another.
Outside the bedroom, Everly said something too muffled to understand.
Hagen answered.
Closer than Serali would have preferred.
The sitting-room door had apparently opened while they slept.
Serali pushed herself upright.
Her entire body protested.
She ignored it.
Allandra did the same and nearly caught her elbow in the blankets.
For one profoundly satisfying moment, the Queen of Avalusia looked panicked.
Not battlefield panic.
Not political panic.
Something much more immediate.
“My robe.”
Serali looked toward the chair.
Empty.
Then toward the floor.
Allandra followed her gaze.
Her robe lay half beneath the bed.
Silence.
“How did that get there?” Allandra asked.
“You took it off.”
“I remember taking it off.”
“Then I believe the mystery is solved.”
A knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Not the outer door.
The bedroom.
Serali and Allandra both stopped.
“Mara?” Serali called.
The door opened exactly far enough for Mara to slip through.
She closed it behind herself.
Looked at Serali.
Looked at Allandra.
Looked at the robe beneath the bed.
Her expression did not change. This was worse than laughter. “Good morning,” Mara said.
Serali narrowed her eyes. “Is it?”
“Princess Everly and Prince Hagen are in the sitting room.”
“We noticed.”
“Princess Everly has brought paper.”
Serali stared at her. “Paper.”
Mara remained solemn. “And paint.”
Allandra covered her face with one hand.
Mara continued, “Also glue.”
“Horrifying,” Serali said.
“And ribbons.”
Serali looked at Allandra. “We may not survive.”
Allandra was already reaching for the robe.
Another voice carried through the door. “Serali?” Everly. Nearer now.
Allandra seized the robe.
Mara crossed immediately to the concealed panel beside the wardrobe.
Serali stared. “You have become very efficient at this.”
“I have developed relevant experience.”
“That is not reassuring.”
The panel opened.
A narrow strip of darkness appeared beyond it.
Allandra tied her robe.
Her hair remained disastrous.
Serali looked at it.
Then at her.
Allandra caught the look. “Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to wish you luck.”
“That was not what your face said.”
“My face is private.”
“Apparently not.”
Everly called again. “Serali?”
“One moment!”
A pause.
Then, suspiciously, “Why?”
Serali looked at Allandra.
Allandra looked at Mara.
Mara looked toward the ceiling as if requesting divine assistance.
Serali called, “I am dressing.”
“Oh.”
Another pause.
“Do you need help?”
“No.”
“Is Mara helping?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
This seemed satisfactory.
Small footsteps retreated.
Allandra exhaled.
Serali looked at her. “You have faced cavalry with greater composure.”
“Cavalry does not ask follow-up questions.”
“That is true.”
Allandra stepped toward the passage.
Stopped.
Turned back.
For the briefest moment, humor disappeared.
She looked at Serali.
Not Royal Mage.
Not survivor.
Just Serali.
Her expression softened. “Are you all right?”
Serali could have lied.
Yesterday, she probably would have.
Instead she considered the question.
Her body hurt.
Four Lyehiran agents were still somewhere in Myrae.
Five others sat in cells beneath the palace.
Marielle was wounded.
And somewhere beyond these walls, people were already telling the story of what had happened beneath the lanterns.
“No,” Serali said.
Allandra’s face tightened.
Serali reached out. Caught two of her fingers. “But I am here.”
Allandra looked down at their hands. Then back at her. “Yes.”
Serali released her. “Go before your brother discovers state secrets.”
Allandra’s mouth curved. “Which state secret?”
Serali glanced meaningfully at the bed.
Allandra actually flushed.
Victory.
“Go.”
Allandra leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Serali’s forehead.
Then disappeared into the servants’ passage.
Mara closed the panel behind her.
Silence.
Serali looked at Mara. “You saw nothing.”
Mara looked at Serali.
“I saw Her Majesty leave through a wall.”
“Mara.”
“I will revise my testimony.”
Serali pointed at her. “You are becoming dangerous.”
“I’ve always been dangerous.”
“Dress,” Serali said.
“Already prepared.”
“Traitor.”
“Frequently.”
Ten minutes later, Serali entered the sitting room wearing a soft dark-blue day dress, her hair only partially restrained and her dignity patched together sufficiently for domestic use.
Everly had taken over the low table.
Of course she had.
Paper covered nearly every available surface.
Thick cream card stock.
Paint.
Charcoal.
Three ribbons.
Dried flowers.
Glue.
Several brushes.
A small pair of scissors that Hagen had wisely placed beyond immediate reach.
One packet of candied orange peel sat beside his elbow.
Serali pointed at it. “Festival theft?”
Everly looked up. “No.”
Hagen looked up.
Serali looked at him.
Hagen said, “The prosecution lacks evidence.”
“Your co-conspirator is four.”
“Almost five later,” Everly corrected.
“Yes,” Hagen said. “My very sophisticated co-conspirator.”
Everly nodded.
She looked tired.
That was the first thing Serali truly noticed.
Not dramatically.
Her hair had been brushed. She wore a clean yellow dress. Someone—probably Lessa—had managed to remove the last traces of gold paint from her cheeks.
But there were faint shadows beneath her eyes.
She held herself slightly closer to Hagen than usual.
And on the chair beside her sat her stuffed fox.
Everly looked at Serali for another second.
Checking.
Serali knew the look now.
Still here.
Serali crossed to the table.
Then stopped.
Looked at Everly.
Looked at the paper.
Then at Hagen. “Why are you in my rooms?”
Hagen placed one hand over his heart. “Good morning to you too.”
“I am serious.”
“I noticed.”
Everly answered before he could. “Because he draws good.”
Hagen inclined his head. “At last. Appropriate recognition.”
Serali looked at him.
He sighed. “Everly woke me an hour ago.”
Serali glanced at the clock. Then at Everly.
Everly appeared entirely unrepentant.
“She woke you at nine.”
“She knocked.”
Everly frowned. “A lot.”
“She knocked a lot.”
“I needed him.”
“For drawing,” Hagen explained.
“I gathered.”
Everly pointed toward the blank card. “He draws swords good.”
“Well,” Hagen corrected automatically.
Everly gave him a look remarkably reminiscent of her mother.
Hagen reconsidered. “Good is acceptable.”
Serali almost smiled. Almost. “And you have been doing this for an hour?”
“No.” Hagen reached for his tea. “I persuaded Her Highness that you did not need to be awakened immediately.”
Everly scowled at him. “You said sleeping people need sleeping.”
“I stand by this controversial position.”
“I was awake.”
“That was precisely the problem.”
Serali looked at Hagen. Something softer moved beneath the joke. “Thank you.”
He shrugged one shoulder. Almost careless. Almost. “I negotiated an hour.”
Everly held up one finger. “One whole hour.”
“An unprecedented diplomatic success.”
“I wanted half.”
“Yes.”
“But Uncle Hagen said one.”
“Because Serali went to bed after dawn.”
Everly looked at Serali. “I know.”
Again—
that checking look.
The square.
The screaming.
Serali standing beneath the shadow canopy while Everly clapped first.
Serali sat. “An hour was sensible.”
Everly looked vindicated.
Then she began arranging the brushes by size. “We went looking for Mama first.”
Serali’s hand stopped halfway toward the charcoal.
Hagen took a very deliberate sip of tea.
Everly continued, entirely unaware. “But she is missing.”
Serali looked at Hagen.
One eyebrow rose.
Only slightly.
It was remarkable how much a single eyebrow could communicate.
Everly dipped a brush into water. “Uncle Hagen says she is probably doing queen things.”
“I said queens occasionally have duties before breakfast.”
“You said queen things.”
“I was simplifying.”
Everly nodded. “Queen things.”
Serali kept her expression carefully neutral.
Hagen’s eyebrow remained where it was.
He had gone to Allandra’s rooms.
Allandra had not been there.
And now, less than an hour later, he was sitting in Serali’s rooms while Serali emerged suspiciously late from her bedroom.
Wonderful.
Serali narrowed her eyes at him.
Hagen smiled pleasantly.
No words.
That was somehow worse.
Everly picked up the folded card stock. “I’ll find Mama after we make Marielle’s card.”
“Excellent plan,” Serali said.
Hagen’s mouth twitched.
Serali pointed at him. “One word.”
“I have said nothing.”
“You are saying nothing very loudly.”
Everly looked between them. “Are you fighting?”
“No,” Hagen said.
“Not yet,” Serali said.
Everly frowned. Then pushed the card toward the center of the table. “We need to make it cheerful.”
Serali looked at the blank paper.
Then at Everly.
There it was.
Not quite fear.
Not anymore.
Work.
A task with edges.
Marielle had been hurt.
Cards helped sick people.
Therefore they would make a card.
The logic was simple enough to hold.
Serali knew something about building structures around things too large to touch directly.
Across the table, Hagen had gone quiet.
He looked at Everly.
Then at Serali.
The humor in his face shifted.
Only slightly.
Enough.
He knew too.
