Stitching Snow (22 page)

“What happened then?” Father asked.

“This boy, Dane.” He’d been so quiet and unassuming, Father and Olivia had ignored him—standard behavior toward a servant. Even Dimwit kept still in the corner. “He and his sister escaped a terrible life on Garam, crashing their shuttle near the Umbergild settlement. The Ascetics had their beliefs, but I couldn’t leave any possible survivors, so I went and pulled both of them out before a fi re reached them. For saving his sister, Dane swore to protect my life to the end of his days. Once I knew he was trustworthy, I told him my identity. He set to work repairing his shuttle to help bring me home.”

“But the craft you arrived in seemed in excellent condition,” Olivia said.

“Dane’s shuttle couldn’t have made the journey here from Thanda’s current position, and I didn’t want to wait anymore—it had been so long already—so we stopped on Garam. I admit, I’d 207

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stolen some merinium from a shipment on Thanda. A Garamite named Brand traded us for the better shuttle.” I checked their eyes. Father was convinced. Even Olivia seemed to fi nd it plausible enough for the moment. When Father smiled, I knew the fi rst obstacle was behind us.

“Young man, you wish to serve my daughter?” Dane kept his eyes lowered, as subservient as the king could want, the act inscrutable. “Yes, Sire. My only desire is to ensure no harm comes to the princess ever again.”

“Excellent. Her absence has delayed the formation of her personal guard. You shall be the fi rst member of the Silver Dagger.”

“I’m honored, Sire.”

“You alone will protect her until other worthy guards can be found. And this contraption?” he asked, waving toward Dimwit.

At my gesture, it skittered to my side. “One of the Thandan mining drones. It malfunctioned and wandered to Umbergild. Life in the settlement could be boring, so I applied Tutor Benedict’s lessons, tinkering with its programming. It’s become something of a pet.”

Father gave Dimwit a once-over and let out a booming laugh that made my throat close up. “You always did like your odd little toys. I imagine it will bring new life and charm to our halls, just as you will. It calls for celebration—a ball! My queen, the realm must share in our joy, don’t you think?”

“I will set to work immediately,” Olivia said. “The perform-ers and musicians . . . all will be arranged.”

“You must be tired from your journey. We will begin tomorrow.” He clapped his hands twice, and a servant appeared at yet another hidden door. “Garrick, escort Princess Snow and her personal guard to the suite I ordered prepared. Darling”—one 208

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more hug and a kiss to my cheek—“I am so happy you’ve returned.”

I squeezed him back before he let me go. Dane bowed, and we left the room through the secret door. My hands wanted to shake. I told them to wait.

I maintained my composure as Dane, Dimwit, and I followed the footman across to the residential portion of the palace. He was young and eager to please, chattering about how wonderful it was to have me back, how the king and queen must be beyond joy.

They were beyond something, right enough.

“Here we are. Your suite, Your Highness. Plenty of room for your guard as well in the quarters through to the left,” he added, nodding to Dane. “Your belongings are inside. Do you need me to show you around?”

“No, thank you, Garrick,” I replied. “It’s been a while, but I remember every speck of this palace very well.”

“Of course.”

Garrick gestured for me to enter, but Dane shoved past, going in fi rst. Before I could panic that he’d forgotten the careful act we had to follow, I realized he hadn’t. A personal guard wouldn’t let his charge enter a room without fi rst ensuring it was safe. It had been too long since I’d had anyone treat me like that, and the young footman was as startled as I was.

“You’ll have to forgive him,” I said. “He knows I was kidnapped from my own city. Imagines assassins everywhere. He does take his honor oath seriously.”

At that, Garrick relaxed and smiled. “I’m sure Their Majesties will be gratifi ed to know of his devotion to duty.” 209

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Dane returned after a few minutes, his face like stone as he gave me a sharp nod.

“Very good,” Garrick concluded. “If you need anything further, you need only call. Sleep well, Highness.” I entered the suite with Dane, closing the door behind us.

The main room was larger than it had any right to be, traditional and gaudy, very much in my stepmother’s taste. Dimwit found a spot to recharge and went on standby. I noted the two doors that would lead to my quarters and Dane’s, ignoring everything else, and turned to him.

“You checked?”

He nodded, holding up the slate from his pocket. “No monitoring devices.”

Finally, I let go, collapsing against the wall as every muscle rebelled, trembling as violently as I had when I fell through the ice. Dane sat with me and took my hands in his, so warm and steady.

“You did great, Essie. Every bit a princess.”

“You—you saw, didn’t you? How she still wants me dead?”

“It doesn’t matter. She won’t get a chance to hurt you, I swear it.” There was something in his voice, and I raised my eyes to his. They darkened as his jaw set. “I also saw your father . . .

how he
doesn’t
want you dead. How he wants something else.

You’re not to be alone with him under any circumstances—do you understand?”

It hadn’t taken him long to fi gure that. Did that mean everyone had always known and let it happen anyway?

“Even full-blooded Exiles—Candarans—can’t force anyone to do anything, right?” I asked Dane.

“Yes, Tipping is the closest we come, and that only works 210

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when the person we Transition to is already considering something. The rumors that we could do more than that started because some Candarans broke the law and compelled people by threatening to expose their secrets. Why do you ask?” I shivered again. “Because I always thought I should’ve been able to stop the bastard, but I couldn’t.” He held my hands tighter. “You should have told me. I never would have gone along with this.”

“All the more reason
not
to have told you.” His sigh was the only answer to that. “You’re going to make me regret this ten times over before we’re through, aren’t you, Essie?”

“Maybe. But I’m glad you’re here so I don’t have to be called Snow
all
the time. The sound of that name . . . I’ve always hated it.”

“Even when your mother said it?” he prompted gently.

“She didn’t. Not when we were alone.
Snow
is my father’s vanity. My mother gave me a real name.”

“I told you mine. Will you tell me yours?”

“Elurra.”

Dane squeezed my hands before fi nally releasing them. “A Candaran name. So it had to be secret, just between the two of you.”

I shook my head. “No, she found a way to make it real, right under my father’s nose.” Twisting to turn my back toward him, I pulled my sleeve down off my shoulder, revealing the royal mark. “Look carefully at the fi ligree surrounding the
S
. Do you see it?”

His fi ngers suddenly on my skin, lightly tracing around the tattoo, sent a very different shiver through me. I reminded myself to breathe.

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“There it is,” he said. “
Elurra.
Only if you know to look for it. How did she manage?”

I pulled the sleeve back into place. “She drew the design herself. She was an incredible artist, everything simple on the surface, with amazing complexity in the details.”

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand. Why would your mother do it? Why would she agree to put her child through what you endured?”

“I don’t know everything. I was so young when she died.

The bad things didn’t start until after she was gone, so I don’t think it was anything she ever imagined. Still, I know why. . . .

She would whisper it in my ear every night. ‘Windsong needs you to give them better than they have.’ It’s what she believed in, making things better for people. A naive idealist, maybe.”

“You miss her.”

Those three words did the impossible, drawing tears to the surface. I would not cry, though. Not in front of Dane. Not in front of anyone.

“She was the only person who cared what happened to me.” Dane didn’t say anything at fi rst, just wrapped his arms around me. It was nothing like the holds I broke in training.

Still strong, but the strength was more than physical. I leaned into his heat, like the sun I’d missed all those years on Thanda.

“She’s not the only one, Essie,” he whispered in my ear. “Not anymore.”

212

20

NIGHTMARES INTERRUPTED

my sleep nearly every hour.

Always knives. Kip holding the knife, concluding I wasn’t worth keeping alive after all. Tobias with a knife to my throat, slashing it before Dane could take the shot. Moray with a knife. Father and Olivia. Through my heart, in the back, it didn’t matter—

always enough to kill me.

When morning came and I met Dane in the main room, he held out a knife to me. I jumped back.

“In your boot, remember?”

I cursed my edginess. He’d offered the handle, not the blade, so what was I worried about?

“Are you okay?”

“Rough night,” I muttered, slipping the knife into the side of my boot. “I doubt the day will be much better.”

“One thing at a time. First, you have to survive breakfast.”

“What about you?”

“Already ate.”

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Of course. To everyone else in the palace, Dane was an underling, nowhere near my level. If I ever forgot to act like I was above him, they’d send him away, or worse.

As if things aren’t botched enough.

“Dimwit, stay here unless we call. Dane, you’ve got the transmitter, right?”

Dane held up his hand, showing the device strapped to his wrist. No one would notice a well-worn accessory on him like they would on me.

After enjoying one last moment of peace, I led the way to the breakfast room—not to be confused with the dining room, which in turn wasn’t the same as the banquet hall. Father and Olivia were already seated inside, too many servants to count at the ready. Olivia took a calculated look at both Dane and me while Father’s eyes fll ashed with another torrent of emotions before he smiled.

“And there’s my Snowfl ake!” he said. “I worried I’d imagined it.”

I smiled as genuinely as I could. “It
is
hard to believe I’m fi nally home, Father.”

His expression softened, his eyes settling again. “You’ll get used to it soon enough. It’s where you belong.” True, but not for the reasons he thought.

A servant pulled out my chair, and I sat. Dane stood far enough behind me for decorum, but close enough to be there if anyone thought to come after me with a butter knife.

I’d forgotten how much I hated royal meals. Servants to pour my juice, offer my napkin, add salt to my eggs . . . I wanted to slap them all and tell them to fi nd something better to do. When I was little and Father was away, Mother would arrange picnics 214

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instead. Sometimes in the garden, or sometimes in her chambers where we’d build tents out of blankets. My favorite was when I’d eat strawberries and she didn’t mind if I made a mess.

Remembering kept me from lashing out at the servants. They didn’t have a choice.

I itched for my scanner, wondering what the chances were that Olivia had poisoned the food. No, she wouldn’t do anything where my father could see. Even when she’d ordered Kip to kill me, she waited until Father was away inducting a new governor in Greenside Province. She would never risk his fi nding out she’d acted against him. My toast should be safe.

“There is much to do,” Father said as the plates were taken away. “The whole kingdom will want to meet their princess at last, but we mustn’t send you out looking so common. Olivia?”

“Yes, Snow has a full schedule today, fi rst and foremost with the tailors. Something for your guard, as well.” Hours with the royal tailors, poking me with pins and fussing over lengths of gaudy fabric.
Why doesn’t she just kill me and
get it over with?

Dane did not like being separated from me, but he had to be fi tted with a uniform. Other than the pin-poking, I knew the tailors wouldn’t hurt anyone, so I gave him a look that said not to argue. He remembered his “place” and relented, but he whispered one word as he passed me.

“Practice.”

Just when I thought maybe he’d forgotten. I didn’t want to, but I knew why he suggested it then. Fittings meant lots of time I 215

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was expected to stand still, so if I couldn’t keep half my attention in place, no one would notice. It was also one time I could expect people to touch me. Made perfect sense, but made me look forward to the rest of the morning less than I already had been.

It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, but close. The tailors had a full studio within the palace. They swarmed immediately, inspecting me like a freshly manufactured shuttle component.

“This fi gure! We can work with this.”

“The hair and complexion, though. We must bring in color.”

“Colors that will bring out her eyes!”

“Oh, dear, this unfortunate scar,” one of the tailors said, grabbing my wrist. “We’ll have to draw attention from it until the doctors can see to it.”

I yanked my hand back. The doctors could remove all the scars I’d gotten from fi ghts—I didn’t care—but they couldn’t touch the one on my wrist. Not the one from Cusser.

The tailors were too busy with their plans to notice my disapproval. They measured me, put me in outfi t after outfi t, and poked me as expected. It didn’t take long for them to notice an unfashionable accessory—the knife in my boot.

“I was taken once,” I said. “I won’t be taken so easily again.

You’ll need to fi nd a place for that in whatever you dress me in.” They accepted it in stride, as I’d expected. I was certain Olivia kept a number of small weapons hidden on her person, and the uniforms for all the royal guards included hidden sheaths and pockets.