The Opal Crown (16 page)

Maybe by joining Elara and Lord Royce, I can find a way to free us all.

Chapter 30

Elara

I
am awoken by the squeaking of Alinda’s mattress as she rises to begin baking the day’s ration of bread. It’s still dark outside, and I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, too nervous to fall back asleep. Lord Royce has deemed it unsafe for Wilha and me to stay in the city once she flees the palace. Later today, after Wilha makes her escape, Lord Royce has arranged to have the two of us smuggled past the city gates.

His ability to coordinate and execute such a plan speaks to his wealth and influence. But what do I know of the man, really? He keeps his own counsel. For all I know, he could be just as power-hungry and twisted as Lord Murcendor. Yet after today, I will be more heavily under his influence than ever before. I don’t know how he plans to get Wilha out of the palace, nor where we are being taken after we escape the city.

When sleep will not come, I get up and walk downstairs. The bakery is pleasantly warm. The brick ovens are fired up, and Alinda hums while she hunches over a countertop sculpting the dough.

“At least let me help you, today of all days,” I say, stepping up to the counter.

Alinda stops humming. “Do you have much experience baking bread?”

“Yes, I grew up serving a noble family and did most of
the cooking.”

“Were you any good at it?”

“Well . . . no, actually.”

Alinda mashes her lips together, as though trying to suppress a smile. She gestures for me to dip my hands into a bowl filled with flour.

“I suppose I should mark this moment,” she says, smacking
a round of dough onto the countertop in front of me.
“One day I’ll be able to say I baked bread with the Queen
of Galandria.”

A chill shivers down my back as I begin kneading.
The Queen of Galandria . . .

“Tell me something,” I say after we’ve worked side by side for several minutes. “Why is your uncle doing this? I mean, he is the Guardian of Trade, and it appears he is already quite wealthy and influential. It doesn’t seem he has a lot to gain by any of this.”

Alinda continues working at the dough. “He wasn’t always wealthy,” she says finally. “Our family has owned this bakery for generations, but his father, Maxim, had a talent for knowing how to trade, for understanding what people wanted and how to get it for them. He was also a very talented bread maker—your grandfather, the king at that
time, used to send his servants here specifically to buy his bread. When he visited the city, he even came here himself to meet the talented baker, and the two of them struck up a friendship. The king used to say Maxim ate better than those in the Opal Palace, so talented was he with trading his bread. Eventually, the king was so pleased by Maxim’s wit and cunning that he decided to name him Guardian of Trade and bequeathed him a title and land—although there’s not a single drop of noble blood in our family line. But Maxim never forgot where he came from, and he taught Uncle—as well as my father, before he died—to love the nobles and the commoners alike. When Maxim died, your father appointed my uncle Guardian of Trade.” She pauses. “I don’t think Uncle has ever forgotten where he came from, either. He’s one of the few commoners to establish himself in noble circles. I think he would like to see a queen who will open the doors for more commoners to rise.”

After she finishes, I quietly work at the dough, sobered by her words. I haven’t forgotten where I came from, either. So what can
I
possibly know about being a queen? The only guide I ever had in this world was a woman who practiced deception the way other women practice their cross-stitch. But if my options are exile, or queen, I know what I will choose.

Of course, if we fail today, I’ll most likely lose both choices. As well as my head.

Rolf comes downstairs, rubbing his eyes. “Big day today. Are you ready?” he asks me.

“Absolutely,” I lie, fighting the urge to vomit.

“Good.” He turns to Alinda. “Uncle has arranged everything. We should be able to get them out of the city without incident, and I will return in a few days’ time. But if we are caught, you must leave immediately and go to the place we discussed. They won’t be able to find you there.”

Alinda nods as she hunches over the countertop, and wipes away a tear. “Just be careful,” she says, suppressing a sob.

“Thank you,” I say, understanding for the first time the depth of the sacrifice she and Rolf have made for me. “Thank you for everything.”

Alinda straightens up. “Your brother is a gluttonous tyrant. If you wish to repay me, you can start by being a better ruler and taking a bit more interest in the people of this kingdom.”

“I will,” I say softly. What I mean is,
I will try
.

“We’ll be fine, Alinda,” Rolf says. “We’ll have a carriage waiting in Eleanor Square near the library for the princess, and then—”

“The library?” I interrupt. My heart speeds up and I try to keep my face impassive. “What library?”

“The Allegrian Historical Library. Your sister will leave the palace and end up there. That’s the plan anyway, though I’m not quite sure how.”

But I am. A tunnel must connect the Opal Palace to the library. Would Astrid have hidden the second book in the Opal Palace, knowing it would be nearly impossible for me to find a way in? Or would she have traveled the tunnel—the same tunnel Wilha will probably travel today—and left it in the Allegrian Historical Library?

Deep down, I know that’s where my mother’s message is waiting for me.

Chapter 31

Wilha

I
enter my closet, preparing to leave my life as the Masked Princess behind once again. Near the entrance to the passageway is a large leather purse filled with a simple dress, a costume mask, and a brown cloak. So Patric has already been here. Hurriedly, I change into my new clothes and stuff my golden gown deep into a trunk, where it may never be found again.

I remove my necklace of keys and open the glass cases containing my masks. Lord Royce made it clear to Patric that I should leave the palace with two of my jeweled masks. What he intends to do with them, I am not sure. After I have removed the masks from the cases, in their place I leave the letter I’ve written to Andrei:

By the time you receive this, I shall be very far away. Whatever you hear, whatever rumors or truths reach your ears, know that it was a truly difficult decision to leave you. Circumstances have forced my hand, and I can no longer stay. Know that I love you as my brother and I always shall.

The note is brief, but I hope it carries a message that Andrei will hear beyond the anger I know he will feel. And I want to be careful with my words, as Lord Murcendor will undoubtedly see the message.

I stuff the two masks inside the leather purse and leave the necklace of keys on a dresser. I press on the opal and the wall slides back. Not too far into the passageway, Patric holds a torch and waits for me. “I’m here to see you safely to the
library. Lord Royce does not think Andrei or Lord
Murcendor have any cause for suspicion yet. But in case we come upon anyone in the passageway and it comes to a fight, you shall need an escort.”

“Maybe you should give me one of your swords,” I say. “I’m capable of defending myself now.”

Patric gives me a wary look. “The last time you held my sword you pointed it straight at
me
.”

We encounter no one as we descend deeper into the passageway. When we reach the appointed door, Patric lights a nearby torch with his own. He bends down and searches the wall until he finds the embedded opal. “On the other side is a private reading room reserved for members of the royal family.”

I nod. “I remember, though it has been a while.”

“Good.” He stands. “Once the passageway has closed behind you, make your way out of the library and into Eleanor Square. Lord Royce has a carriage waiting for you.”

“I will,” I say. “Thank you for accompanying me.” I turn away to press the opal.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

I turn back. “What?”

“Your mask. You can hardly enter the library wearing it.”

“Of course,” I say, slightly surprised. When I changed, I completely forgot to take off my jeweled mask and replace it with the costume one.

I start to untie my mask, but hesitate. “I will remove it after you are gone.” I give my leather purse a shake. “There is enough room to stuff it in here. If Lord Royce wanted two masks, three cannot hurt.”

Now Patric hesitates. Longing blooms in his eyes. “Please, may I see you? May I see your face?”

“You have already,” I remind him.
And it meant nothing to you
, I add silently.

“You are mistaken. The shock of learning about Elara overshadowed everything and suddenly you were ready to fight me over her. What I mean is I have not seen you. Not the way I always wanted to.”

Both of us are breathing heavily, and I realize I do want him to see me. With everything in my heart, I want him to see me. My fingers are shaking as I untie the mask. Patric holds his torch as close as he dares and his eyes are wide. The cool air of the tunnel caresses my face as I pull the mask away. His gaze roams over my face, pausing at each feature. “You are beautiful,” he says.

“No, I am not,” I say, in no mood to be lied to. “I may not be ugly, Patric, but neither am I beautiful.”

“You are beautiful to
me
.” He presses something soft into my hand. “Be safe, and one day we will see each other again.”

With that, he turns around and leaves. In the flickering torchlight, I look down. The golden ribbon I gave him so many nights ago curls in my hand.

It is tattered and worn, as though it has been held often.

Chapter 32

Elara

W
hile we wait for Wilha, I peek out the window of the carriage and wonder how I can get inside the library without being stopped by Nicolai and Rolf, who sit out front in the driver’s seat.

I fidget with my costume mask. A cloak of crushed velvet covers my much plainer clothing underneath. We are to wait for Wilha here, then proceed directly north where Lord Royce has another carriage waiting. He has arranged for Wilha and me to be smuggled past the city gates by the same man who ferries the contents of Allegria’s chamber pots outside the city, judging that the guards would probably want to keep their distance from that particular cart.

I wonder how Wilha fancies spending a few hours being buried, literally, under a pile of dung?

A guard approaches our carriage. “Your employer has been sitting here for quite some time,” he says to Rolf. “What is your business in Eleanor Square?”

Before Rolf can respond, I open the carriage door. “I’m afraid I fell asleep and my driver didn’t wish to disturb me. But I am quite awake now, and have business inside the library.” I step outside, ignoring Rolf’s glowering look, and suppress a smile. I’ve tied his hands; he can’t contradict me now, not in front of a soldier.

Two palace guards are stationed at the entrance to the library, and I nod briskly as I pass them. All is quiet amid the bookshelves and long tables where patrons pore over books. The building is several stories high, and in the very center a staircase spirals up to each floor.

I have little time; there’s no possible way I can search each floor. I’m hesitant to draw attention to myself, but I don’t see how it can be avoided. I find the librarian—a wheezing, elderly man with papery skin who moves slowly.

“Excuse me, good sir, can you help me? I have purposed to read all I can about our new king’s ancestry,” I say, the lie sliding easily from my lips. “I am looking for a particular book,
Eleanor of Andewyn House: Galandria’s Greatest Queen
. Do you know it?”

Amid all the quiet, it’s a wonder no one hears the fierce pounding of my heart in the several seconds it takes him to respond.

“Royal history section . . . top floor . . . near the reading rooms,” he says.

I take measured, dignified steps up the spiraling staircase, nothing to indicate that it feels as though I may be ascending to another life, a life where I know my birth name.

Two more palace guards are stationed on the top floor. I move past them with a nod. Patrons bend quietly over long wooden tables. Soon I come upon the royal history section. Two shelves alone are devoted to Aislinn and Rowan Andewyn, and my breath catches when I realize that one day, books about
me
will become a part of this collection. For better or worse, I have committed myself to Lord Royce’s scheme; the only choice I have
now is to move forward. What will these books, not yet written, say of me?

I peruse the shelves, moving backward through time, thumbing through volumes of works on all of the rulers of Galandria until—finally!—I find it:
Eleanor of Andewyn House: Galandria’s Greatest Queen
.

The book is a match to the copy currently stuffed away in the carriage waiting outside, except that the leather cover is puckered, but overall the pages themselves are in much better condition.

Inside the book is a small message:
Donated by and recovered at the request of Queen Astrid.
I furiously blink back the tears rising to my eyes. I turn the pages, searching for the tiny pinpricks that will tell me I’ve found the right copy. But that will require searching each page carefully, and time is something I don’t have. For all I know, Wilha could be inside the carriage right now, waiting for me. Which means I will have to take the book with me.