Invasion: A Sequel to The Last Princess (14 page)

As I ran through the hallway and up the carpeted main stairs of the palace, through assorted packs of rebel soldiers, it struck me that my home was still occupied—just by a different set of uniforms.

As Silver had planned, the rebels had moved into the palace quickly and efficiently. On the whole they may have been a ragtag group of young radicals, but Silver was successful in harnessing them into an effective unit. By the time Tanner, Wesley, and I were nearing Mary’s bedroom, whatever Ryker soldiers hadn’t been killed by the rebel forces had thrown down their weapons and surrendered.

The rebels were good. Demkoe’s Ryker army was bad. Right? So these guards now stomping through the palace should have felt good, on my side. But once blood started spilling, once the bodies began hitting the ground, once one leader had been displaced by a new leader … Who could tell the difference? Would Silver and these rebels really turn out to be any less power-hungry and evil than Demkoe’s Ryker army?

It would take Mary’s light touch to know just how to reclaim our home for ourselves, while leading England in a way these rebels—and even Silver—would deem fair and just.

Mary could do it, because she was different. She’d already proven that once. And when the dust of this terrible day settled, when the palace floors had been scrubbed clean of blood, Mary would rise up as the queen that England needed, just as she had after the tragedies that led to her coronation. She would rebuild England a second time over, piece by piece, leading with strength, not force, leading as she always did—by example.

There was nothing Mary wouldn’t do for her country. I just wished, for her sake, that she wouldn’t have to do it alone. If only Eoghan had gone to Scotland with the boys, instead of recklessly trying to rescue us from the palace.

I reached Mary’s bedroom, with Wesley and Tanner running alongside me. I stopped for a moment, hesitating, and glanced at both of them. After all these weeks of considering them at opposite ends of a spectrum in my mind—one alive and one dead, one dark and one fair, one standing by me and one betraying me—after all that, it felt strange to see them side by side, unified by a single purpose.

No one was guarding Mary’s bedroom door from any army. “Do you want me to go first?” Wesley asked, just as Tanner said, “Let me lead, just in case.”

I couldn’t answer either of them. I just placed my hand on the doorknob and turned. It wasn’t locked. The heavy wooden door flew open easily.

Mary, in her white lace wedding dress, was sprawled out facedown on the floor.

“
Mary!
” I screamed, but she didn’t lift her head at the sound of my voice. She didn’t move at all.

I ran to her.

I thought she may have been crying, or worse, that she’d been hit and knocked unconscious by a piece of debris sent flying by the blast of the chapel. But her bedroom appeared unaffected by the bombs. There was no sign of a struggle, and there was no sign of injury anywhere to her body.

I turned her over, took her face into my hands. Her cheeks were blushed with rouge. Her eyes were delicately lined and beautifully shadowed. I could see the care Ami and Tindra must have taken to blend and shade layer after layer of rose pink and lavender, soft beige and plum, to create a shimmering mauve that framed Mary’s eyes like freshly bloomed hydrangeas.

I searched her smooth pale wrist for a pulse. “Mary!” Why wasn’t she responding?

And then I knew. But I tried to push away the knowledge, keep it at bay for a few moments. I shut the door on it, refused to acknowledge it, but it scratched at the door like an insistent, hungry wolf. A familiar and ominous dread filled my chest and limbs, as if my physical body understood what was happening before my brain did, because it remembered the
feeling
of this—this sensation of tragedy.

Mary was dead.

How many people would die before my eyes? My mother. My father. Wesley, though he had somehow come back to me. And now Mary. Sweet, strong, brave Mary, my big sister and my best friend.

“Eliza,” Wesley’s voice said, but he sounded very far away, like he was speaking to me through a long tunnel.

He knelt down and picked up a glass bottle from the floor. It was small and square, with an eyedropper for a top.

“It’s poison,” Wesley said, as if I hadn’t recognized the sinister bottle for what it was. “And it’s empty.”

But I refused to look at it. I would look only at Mary for these last few moments, so that I could remember her like this, her cheeks flushed as though she were just asleep. Her body was still warm.

The neckline of her wedding dress dipped down at her chest. The skin there was flawless, like sweet cream. I placed my hand over her heart and waited, hoping against hope.

Nothing. Her heart was still.

Tanner stood over me. He had a wrinkled piece of parchment paper in his hand that he’d found on Mary’s desk. “Eliza,” he said, in the same tone Wesley had used to say my name. He held the paper out so I could read it.

I told you I’d rather die than marry you
.

It had been scrawled hurriedly in black ink, by Mary’s hand.

“But she’s still warm,” I cried out.

And then I realized that once again I had failed Mary. We’d arrived too late. Just barely too late.

Now I had all the time in the world to sob over my sister’s dead body.

Wesley and Tanner stood back, knowing to just let me cry, to leave me be. But they watched me carefully—so carefully in fact, they missed the quick footsteps approaching from behind. They never even saw what hit them.

All I heard was the double
thump-thump
of the butt of a gun to each of their heads, followed by the sound of their unconscious bodies hitting the floor.

Wesley and Tanner were out cold on the ground, my sister lay dead in my arms, and it was just Demkoe and me, face to face.

“What a shame,” he said, clearly not caring at all. “I guess that leaves just you and me now, Eliza.”

His long blond hair had been slicked back with a shiny gel. His pale blue eyes looked translucent. I could almost see the light passing through them. I felt like if I looked close enough I could see straight through to his brain—to his warped, psychopathic thoughts.

“I suppose you’ll have to do,” he said. “As my bride. Though you’re not nearly as pretty as your sister.”

He took a few steps closer. The gun he’d used to knock out Wesley and Tanner had been returned to his belt.

“I’d developed a real affection for Queen Mary,” he said. “To be quite honest, I was truly hurt by this.”

He dropped his fingers toward Mary’s dead body and the note still at her side. “
I told you I’d rather die than marry you
. It’s true, she did tell me. But who knew she was telling the truth?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Leave it to Queen Mary to keep her word, I suppose.”

Kneeling down slightly, he beckoned me with his long index finger. “I’m going to need you to come with me, Eliza. And announce to these rebels that we—you and me—are in charge here.”

He was wearing the full dress uniform of a naval commander. A uniform permitted only to a member of the British Royal Navy. Ornamented with stately braids, gold and silver medals, and a sash, the navy blue coat hung heavily on Demkoe’s tall, thin frame. I knew its every ceremonial button and ribbon well. It was the same suit my father had proudly worn when he married my mother.

I stood up and stared him down with fury. My legs shook. There was a sound in my head, only in my head—a whoosh. It was the sound of a mind ignited, burning fast toward explosion. I had no weapon, but that made no difference to me.

I lunged for his face, his icy-blue eyes, with my fingernails.

He was stronger than me, a trained fighter, but that made no difference. Pure rage, with nothing to lose, is unstoppable.

I remember nothing.

But when it was over, my body was sticky with blood not my own, my fingers were all broken, purple and throbbing. Demkoe was dead, a horrific pile of gore lying not far from Mary’s body—which by now must have finally begun growing cold.

There was a knife on the ground beside my feet. It was pulpy with flesh, spattered with blood and bone. It must have belonged to Demkoe. I must have gotten it from his holster, or wrestled it from his hand.

The room started to spin. A sound like a blaring siren filled my ears, bringing me down to my knees. I got the sense that I’d turned invisible, that I no longer existed at all. It was the last thing I remembered before everything disappeared in a soft, velvety veil of darkness.

A white gauze curtain fell across the window’s glass, muting the pale afternoon light. The sky appeared clearer to me than I’d seen it in a long time. It took me a second to realize that there were people working on the palace grounds, and the land surrounding it. They were sweeping, sowing, putting broken pieces back together. Regular people in normal clothes. No uniforms were in sight, no weapons. Only the tools of rebuilding.

I felt my shoulders settle. I was in my old bedchamber in the palace, and despite all the terrible things that had happened, the worst was over. It had to be.

A knock at my bedroom door took my attention from the window.

“Eliza?” a familiar voice called out.

I turned quickly to see Polly, back from Scotland. I ran to her, wrapped my arms around her. I tried to speak, but no words would come, only coughs of sadness and relief.

Polly smiled sadly, revealing the gap between her two front teeth.

“They radioed us right after everything happened,” she said.

I couldn’t remember anything since I attacked Demkoe. “How long has it been?” I asked.

She looked at me carefully. “Two days, I think. You were out pretty hard after everything that happened. They said it was shock.” She paused. “We got here as quickly as we could.”

“We?” I looked to the doorway to see who was with her.

“Jamie’s downstairs,” Polly said. “With Aiden and Liam. He’ll be up in a minute.”

Jamie and Aiden and Liam were all okay. And then I remembered that Aiden and Liam had no parents anymore, no Eoghan or even Mary to take care of them, and I felt a deep, hollow ache inside my chest.

“How is Jamie?” I asked Polly.

“As well as can be expected, under the circumstances.” She was still holding me in her arms.

I dropped onto my bed, resting my back against the headboard and drawing my knees in toward my chest. Polly scooted up to sit next to me, just the way we always used to when we were little.

She pulled her reddish-brown hair back and twisted it into a bun, frowning in concentration. I focused on the familiar constellation of light freckles across her nose as she held both my hands.

“Mary’s funeral has been scheduled for tomorrow,” she said. Her round green eyes watched me for a reaction.

“Okay.” I nodded.

“We’ll get through it together,” Polly said. “I know it’ll be difficult. But you’re not alone in this, Eliza. And once you’re crowned you’ll …”

Just then a figure appeared in the doorway, lanky and leaning, unsure whether to enter or knock.

“Jamie,” I said. I had never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life. “Thank goodness you’re safe.”

He had a small backpack on his shoulders, which he dropped onto the floor. He remained in the doorway, staring at me with his wide blue eyes, as if he couldn’t believe it was really me.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” I said, opening my arms to him. “Come here and hug me!”

That brought a smile to his face. He looked tired and sad, but healthy. His cheeks were round and full, and his hair was thick and shining. He stood up straight, with the posture of a full-grown man even though he was still just a boy. I said a silent prayer of thanks that he was all right, that neither dark-star poisoning nor the Ryker invasion had managed to destroy him.

Polly grabbed him by the arm and yanked him onto the bed with us. His laugh was as spontaneous and childlike as I’d remembered it.

I was overjoyed at the sight of them—my best friend and my brother, safe and returned to me.

“It’s so good to see you,” I said into Jamie’s ear. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” he said, but his voice sounded weak and small.

His face was red with emotion, and he was biting his lip. I could see he was on the verge of tears, fighting them back with everything he had.

I hugged him tight.

“Jamie,” I whispered, “it’s going to be okay. But it’s also okay to cry. Go ahead and cry, if you need to.”

Jamie hid his face in my shirt to muffle his sobs.

I squeezed him for dear life, letting the tears come to my own eyes, rubbing his back the way Mary always used to when he was little and upset about taking his medicine.
Mary had always been the responsible one, the one to take care of Jamie and me. Now it was my turn.

A small square of sunlight fell from the window and the faint cool scent of afternoon air filled the room with a soft glow. Polly leaned over and hugged us both, tears gleaming on her cheeks.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said again, louder this time. If I repeated it over and over again, maybe it would come true.

* * *

Some time later, after Polly and Jamie and I had cried and reminisced and even laughed a little, they left me to settle in to their own rooms.

I lay back down, told myself to relax, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to.

A sound in my doorway startled me. I turned quickly to find Wesley there. “Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said. To be honest, I’d been wondering when he would come. “I’m just a little jumpy these days.”

In the next moment Wesley was sitting next to me on the bed, his arms tight around me. I breathed in his soapy smell, a scent that somehow reminded me of my childhood. I had a vague recollection it was the soap from my art room, from when I was a little girl.

“You’re more beautiful than ever, Eliza,” he said, affectionately brushing my hair away from my face.

I hadn’t talked about this with Polly and Jamie—I wasn’t even sure they knew, to be honest—but I couldn’t avoid the topic anymore. “I don’t know how you can still look at me after what I did,” I said slowly.

“After single-handedly saving your country, you mean?”

“I ripped a man apart with my bare hands, Wesley.”

“Not true,” Wesley said. “At some point you found his knife.”

“Don’t make light of this, please. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better. But that was not the work of a sane person. I don’t know what came over me.”

Wesley leaned forward, looking deep into my eyes. “You can’t have any regrets about what happened, Eliza. If anything came over you, it was some kind of self-defense instinct, and I’m glad it kicked in. I only wish I’d been able to protect you.” He sighed. “We haven’t lived in a sane world for a long time. I had to pretend to try to kill your sister just to save your life. You were prisoner in your own home. I set bombs to the royal chapel. What kind of world is this? How will children of the future ever study us in history class?”

I placed my hand over Wesley’s chest to quiet him. “I don’t think I’m fit to be queen,” I said, my voice small.

“No one is more fit, Eliza. I mean that.”

“What happened?” I asked. “After I … killed him? I don’t remember anything from that point on.”

Wesley ran his hands up and down the length of my arm. “You passed out just after you killed Demkoe. Once we found a doctor to take you away, Tanner and I went out to the balcony.” I nodded, knowing the balcony that he meant. It was traditionally a place of celebration, for silly things like photos of a first kiss. “We called a meeting, and all the rebels gathered, along with various people from London. We explained everything that had happened, and then let them ask questions and throw out suggestions on what should be our next move.”

“Where was Silver during all this?” I asked.

“There must have been two or three hundred men and women crowding the main floor,” Wesley continued. “Midway through, Silver had appeared in the back. Tanner and I saw him step in, but the rebels were all facing forward, so they didn’t know he was there. While Silver listened, they voiced their grievances. They said Silver shared their ideals, but that he took things too far. They didn’t agree with his willingness to let innocent people die in the blasts. They saw it as heartless and too brutal a tactic. It made them distrust his judgment. England needs a new Parliament, they said. They wanted democracy, the balance of power. And then they called for you by name, Eliza.”

I bit back a sob. “And Silver?”

“He left. He said he’d had enough politics, and just turned around and left.”

“Wow,” I said. There were no other words.

“You can do this,” Wesley promised. “We all believe in you. You just need to believe in yourself.”

Then he leaned in and kissed me—lightly, softly.

It was a strange kiss. In some ways, it was like a first kiss all over again. I had already lost Wesley, and let him go, only to find him again but not trust him. There was something new and changed about both of us, and I knew it would take us a long time to learn each other all over again. But underneath all of that he was still Wesley, the boy I had fallen in love with. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, tasting the kiss, exploring it.

Then something made me sense that we weren’t alone. It wasn’t a noise so much as an awareness. I’d spent the last few days with Tanner constantly at my side, and our senses had become finely tuned to each other’s presence.

So when I opened my eyes to see him there, I wasn’t really surprised.

“Sorry,” he said, holding out flowers. They were daisies—the only flowers I really liked—and I briefly wondered how he had known that. Did I mention it, or had he just guessed? Why did he always seem to know things about me without having to be told? “I brought you these.”

I moved to follow him, to try to explain what he’d walked in on, but then I thought better of it. How could I explain when I hardly understood it myself?

Tanner set the flowers on the bedside table. Our eyes met, and then he turned and walked slowly out of the room.