Rook and Shadow (Salarian Chronicles Book 1) Page 9

  “I’ve never seen her so mad,” Elsie said.

  She lit some candles with the coals in the stove. The room brightened a little.

  “You can tell us about the latest fashions, can’t you?” Edsel asked. “We’re in trouble if you can’t. Estrella is our best source of information.”

  “William tries, but the poor boy has no sense for fashion,” Elsie said. “Last week he told me short sleeves were in.”

  “But everyone wore long sleeves last week!”

  “I know! The layering confused him. He thought the full sleeves were some kind of cape. We looked like fools, trying to sell short sleeved dresses with capes.”

  “So you make clothes and shoes?”

  “Edsel specializes in shoes. I make dresses when we can get the fabric.”

  I nodded.

  “Even Lady Alma has had trouble finding fabric with the Shadow and Dragon on the loose.”

  Elsie and Edsel stared at the floor. I bit my lip. I had said too much. They would figure it out now! Why would a simple ballerina have such a close connection to Lady Alma?

  “Our fabrics aren’t fine enough to tempt the Shadow,” Edsel said after an awkward pause.

  “But this silk is identical to the fabric in the ballet costume.”

  “We get lucky sometimes. But not often enough to make us a target.”

  Edsel didn’t meet my eyes as he spoke. Elsie fiddled with her hair.

  “Well, you shouldn’t be ashamed. No one can measure up to Lady Alma.”

  They brightened.

  “Of course not! But I do so adore her designs,” Elsie said. “She is my inspiration every day!”

  “Do you mind helping us?” Edsel asked. “I can teach you what to do. You’ll be a natural. And it isn’t hard work. It won’t ruin your hands.”

  I nodded. If I was going to stay here, apparently I would have to work.

  Edsel showed me how to cut strips of leather into even lengths. He and Elsie cut pieces of patterns and stacked them by shape.

  “Is the colonial ambassador as handsome as they say?” Elsie said.

  “I’ve heard the delegation from New Salaria is shockingly tan,” Edsel said. “We work inside, so our complexions are almost as fashionable as yours, Rook.”

  “The ambassador is very nice,” I said.

  My first strip of leather was crooked. Elsie trimmed it, and I tried again.

  “Does Princess Salara like him as much as everyone says?”

  I ducked my head to hide my blush.

  “How much do they say she likes him?”

  “Oh, I heard she didn’t take her eyes off him at all their first dinner! And he arranged a sledding party for her! And she held his hand the whole time they walked through the forest.”

  News traveled fast, apparently.

  “Could you sketch what she wore for the Castanian Duke’s visit last month?” Edsel asked. “I haven’t been able to get any information about it.”

  My face burned crimson.

  “Lady Alma created the design from, well, from a dress she had already worn.”

  They both gasped.

  “A repeat?” Elsie asked.

  “It was short notice. The Shadow stole fabric meant for the dress before it reached the palace, and the Dragon stole a shipment from New Salaria the same week.”

  “But still, to repeat a gown,” Edsel said. “Is the Shadow really causing that much trouble for Lady Alma and Princess Salara?”

  They set down their tools and stared at the drawings on the wall. The expression on their faces was identical. I wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart except for Elsie’s butterfly shaped hair.

  “It was one time,” I said. “Lady Alma has started storing extra fabric in her studio so it won’t happen again. The Shadow stole a shipment of jewels from the museum a few days ago, but she had enough extra lace on hand to improvise an embellishment for the gown.”

  Even if they were as embarrassed by the repeat as I was, I couldn’t admit the palace was having any trouble.

  “The sleigh ride was such a romantic gesture on Sir Gilbert’s part,” Elsie said, “but it is inconvenient when men don’t give notice of their plans. William never tells me when he’s coming to visit. I have to look nice all the time in case he shows up.”

  “What about Will?”

  She laughed.

  “He’s never made a romantic gesture in his life.”

  “But is he here often?”

  She and Edsel glanced at each other.

  “Hardly at all,” Elsie said.

  “Good.”

  “He is rude,” Edsel said. “Not very considerate.”

  “I had noticed.”

  We laughed and continued to cut leather and talk about palace life. By the time the sun set, I had a pile of thirty-six leather strips. My fingers ached. Elsie had to help me unbutton my dress and unlace the boots. I pulled the socks off by myself. It was a triumph, somehow.

  I stared into darkness from my place on the floor. The thin mattress underneath me did little to soften the wood planks. Elsie lay on a similar mattress across the room. Edsel slept downstairs in the cobbler shop.

  “Elsie, do you ever go to Castlemont?”

  She sighed.

  “Sometimes, but I’ve only been to the third tier. William goes to the palace kitchen every week during the summer to sell vegetables. That’s in the first tier.”

  “Could I go with him sometime?”

  I heard her roll over.

  “Why do you want to go with William?”

  “I’m just homesick. I’d like to see the palace again.”

  “Oh. Good. Will goes with him sometimes.”

  I said nothing. Once I got to the kitchen, could I find my way back to my room? And how would I explain my absence?

  “I’d love to see it,” Elsie said. “Even the kitchen. But William says it is too dangerous.”

  “Why would it be dangerous?”

  I had been chased by angry servants with knives my first time in the kitchen. But if Elsie didn’t wander off, she would be fine.

  She didn’t answer. Her steady breathing turned into a raspy snore. She had fallen asleep. I rolled over and tried to do the same. The noise and lumpy mattress kept me awake.

  William went to the palace every week, and he had just come back. I would stay here for a week and return to the palace the same way I came. Maybe Elsie could come along. I could have my adventure and return before anyone got too worried.

  What was this mattress filled with? Certainly not enchanted swan feathers like my palace bed. And I missed the weight of Seda on my feet. Where would he sleep while I was gone? I stared at the ceiling for hours before drifting to sleep, feeling every bump in the mattress and floor. Elsie’s snores continued in a rhythmic pattern. At least Madame Delilah’s wig was comfortable.

  Chapter 11

  I awoke to a hand over my mouth and gasped for breath. Where was I?

  “Quiet,” someone whispered.

  “Will?”

  His hand muffled my voice. I squinted into the darkness, trying to see his face. Why didn’t peasants have windows? Elsie’s breathing continued in a steady rhythm across the room. The details of yesterday’s activities came back one by one until I remembered why I was laying on a lumpy mattress in a cobbler’s shop.

  “Don’t scream,” Will said.

  I nodded, and he removed his hand from my mouth.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered, pulling the blankets up to my chin.

  “You need to come with me.”

  “You’re insane.”

  If I screamed, would it wake Elsie? I had never tried to wake someone. She probably wouldn’t be much good in a fight. Maybe I could get Edsel's attention. He could grab the scissors for a weapon.

  Unless Will had already silenced him.

  “Soldiers are on their way.”

  I stiffened.

  “It is the middle of the night.”

  “N
o, it is almost dawn. They’re looking for someone. It has to be us.”

  Us. Not likely.

  They were looking for me.

  “I am not running away with you.”

  “Do you want to die? You’re wanted for crimes against the Princess.”

  I grimaced. I wouldn’t die, but I would be disgraced. Princess Salara working with peasant cobblers? Oh, the soldiers would try to hush it up once they realized who I was, but word would get out.

  I leaned forward, trying to make out Will’s face.

  “Where are we going?”

  “A farm. William will meet us there.”

  Perfect! William had access to the kitchens. He could take me back.

  “Ok.”

  “Get dressed. I’ll wait for you downstairs. Don’t wake Elsie.”

  Apparently, not much would wake Elsie. She kept snoring while I fumbled around the room looking for my clothes. I couldn’t dress myself in the light, and it was harder in the dark. I got stuck with both arms above my head before pulling the dress onto my body.

  Backwards.

  And this was a different dress. I had grabbed one of Elsie’s. Too late now. I managed to turn it around and buttoned the front. Somehow, I got it wrong. There was a gap at the bottom, and the top didn’t line up. I tucked the extra fabric at the top into the collar and tied my apron around my waist. It covered the gap where there were extra buttons.

  I had done it! I had dressed myself. If only there was a mirror so I could make sure I got it right. I pulled the boots over my feet. How had Elsie laced them? I should have paid closer attention. I wrapped the laces around the ankles of the boots to keep them closed. They still flopped when I walked.

  I clunked down the stairs. My loose boots made a lot of noise. Neither Elsie nor Edsel stirred. Had Will cast a spell on them? He stood by the doorway, holding the door open so a thin stream of moonlight illuminated the shop. I made it outside without tripping over Edsel, the workbench, or the various tools on the floor.

  Will closed the door. I stared at him. Nothing covered his face, but the moonlight was not bright enough for me to make out his features. He was paler than me, but no one would ever call his skin pearly.

  I laughed to myself. That was a silly thing to call a peasant boy’s skin. What would Sir Quill say of his long hair, swept out of his face and tucked behind his ear?

  Hair like a dirty bird’s wing, pale skin unlike pearls.

  Eyes reflective like the mirror of a girl.

  Maybe the castle poets worked harder than I gave them credit for. I examined Will and tried again.

  Side-swept bird’s wing hair over lusterless face

  Hides reflective eyes that seem out of place.

  What else rhymed with face? Lace, race, trace-

  “Is something funny, Sara?”

  I jumped. He didn’t look offended, just confused. I had been staring at him and laughing. No way could I tell him I had been writing a poem.

  “I’m called Rook now.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Estrella thought it would help me hide.”

  “And she suggested the name Rook?”

  “Elsie and Edsel wanted to call me Leslie.”

  “That’s better than Rook.”

  “I like Rook.”

  “This isn’t a game. I don’t know what you meant by stealing that egg, but the guards will try you for crimes against the Princess if you’re caught.”

  “How could stealing an egg harm the Princess?”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. I felt rough patches of skin crisscrossing his hands. No wonder he wore gloves in the palace. I stared into his eyes. Dark eyebrows lowered. His lips clamped together, merging into a single scar across his face.

  “If they catch you, they will kill you. Do you understand?”

  I nodded. I wanted to laugh again, but his face looked so serious I swallowed the sound. The guards would not kill me for crimes against myself.

  Will examined me for a moment, then let go of my arm. I tugged at my collar and followed him through the village. My shoes smacked with every step, but I refused to ask this rude peasant for help. The fountain sparkled in the moonlight. I walked towards it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “We don’t have time for this.”

  I cupped my hands, took a drink, and gagged as the salty water hit my tongue. What had happened to the well? Will ignored me and walked in the shadows of the ramshackle houses until we left the town. I had to jog to catch up with him. The briny taste stayed in my mouth as we walked through hayfields and gardens.

  By the time we reached the forest, the moon had almost set, and the sun had almost risen. I studied Will's face in the morning light and considered continuing my poem. His skin did not look so strange in the daylight, and his features were pleasant. Too thin for the poets to rave about, but they would like his defined jaw and prominent cheekbones.

  Will noticed me looking at him and swept his hair over his eyes.

  Birds sang. Soon, the murmur of a brook joined them. Will meandered through the woods. He found a stream and walked beside it. My boots bumped, and my feet ached, but I inhaled the fresh forest air with enjoyment.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Will stopped so suddenly I ran into him.

  “Yes.”

  I was always hungry lately. Peasants ate such small meals. Will sat on a flat rock on the bank of the stream. I joined him and kicked off my boots. Raw spots and blisters covered my feet.

  Socks. I should have worn socks. I moved to the edge of the stream.

  “Don’t!” Will said just as I put my feet in the water.

  It burned. I pulled my feet out at once. My eyes filled with tears as I used my apron to dry my feet. The fabric further irritated my wounds.

  “This creek is salt water,” Will said. “It flows straight from the mines into the Ghone.”

  I glared at him and blinked back tears.

  He produced a Salara egg from his pack and handed it to me. Was this all he ate? I turned it over in my hand. The egg had a border of Seda chasing butterflies around it.

  Poor Seda. I missed him. Surely someone in the palace would think to feed him.

  “Behold, our Princess,” Will said.

  I examined the picture on his egg and laughed. My nose was far too large. I squinted at the portrait on my egg and showed it to him. The painter had given me eyes the size of an owl’s.

  At least Will wouldn’t recognize me from these portraits.

  He smashed his egg against the rock, portrait side down. I winced as he peeled away bits of the shell and tossed them into the stream.

  I tapped the top of my egg and peeled away the shell, doing my best to keep the owl-eyed portrait intact. I set it on the ground next to me.

  Will pulled more eggs from his bag.

  “How many of these do you have?”

  He shrugged.

  I took another egg.

  Will smashed his next egg so hard that half the white stuck to the stone. He tossed the entire egg into the river.

  “Why steal so many eggs if you don’t like her?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I thought back to my days as Princess. I had never done anything to anger peasants. I had even performed for them a few times in the large courtyard. Thousands gathered to hear me sing.

  “You’ve never met her,” I said.

  “I know her.”

  His voice contained an edge. Something dangerous. If he knew who I was, would he smash my real head against a rock?

  Surely not.

  And how did he know me?

  “Tell me.”

  He shook his head and smashed another egg.

  The sun rose above the horizon. It cast slanting shade through the trees, and beams of light darted across the forest floor like the reflection from a fairy’s skin.

  Will pulled off his boots and handed me his socks. I wrinkled my
nose.

  “You won’t have skin left on your feet if you don’t wear them.”

  “Worry about your own feet.”

  “We have to keep going.”

  The thought of putting anything against my feet made me want to cry. At least my ankle did not hurt. Lady Alma’s healing charm had done its work well. But shouldn’t it heal my feet?

  I pulled the charm off and examined it. The metal had lost its shine and darkened. The curved engravings had faded. There was no trace of the salt crystals.

  Empty, then. All the power from the fairy salt had been used. I tucked it into my apron pocket and took the socks. The thick wool looked mostly clean, and they didn’t smell. I pulled them over my feet. It hurt. A lot. It hurt more when I put the boots over them, but once I tightened the laces everything was too snug to rub against my skin. That was something.

  Will tied the laces of his boots together and slung them over his shoulder. He offered me his hand, and I stood, testing my feet. My soles were raw. It hurt less if walked on the insides of my feet.

  Will kicked my pile of eggshell portraits into the creek and walked down the path. Mud stuck to his bare feet. I limped forward. Keeping up with him would be impossible. Without a drink, the egg taste lingered, reminding me how thirsty I was. I watched the stream as I walked. If only I had the purifying charm we had used at the picnic.

  Once out of the forest, we walked through sloping striped fields. Hills. So many hills. My feet pressed against the boots at all angles as we crossed them. Drops of sweat formed on my brow as the sun climbed high and grew hot.

  Will did not slow down. He walked barefoot, ignoring the rocks and roots that tripped me. I twisted my ankle in a hole and fell behind even further. It held weight, but the soreness returned. Will disappeared from my view more than once, and I took short breaks to search for him when I reached the tops of hills.

  Just when I thought I had lost him for good, I saw him standing at the top of a large hill. He stood motionless, staring forward. Finally, he was waiting for me. I tripped up the hill, struggling to breathe. He did not acknowledge me when I joined him. I gasped as I realized why.