Céleste woke with a start from her nightmare. Eyes closed, she still saw the screaming fires raging in her mind, the black masks concealing blackened souls. She still heard the hoof-beats on rainy pavement and the echoing gunshots, the yelps crackling up into the navy night sky.
She jammed a hand to her torso, making sure she wasn't scorched, bleeding out, torn to pieces.
Once her heart semi-settled, she opened her eyes—and shrieked at the person hovering over her, a tumble of unkempt raven curls sloshing down her porcelain skin.
"Julia?"
There was no mistaking that azure gaze, inches from Céleste's face, lurking over her. She thrust the girl off her bed and groaned as she sat up.
"Do you have no notion of privacy? My God, you are insane. It is extremely rude to barge into a lady's rooms while she sleeps."
Julia backed off. "Usually, I would agree, but this is urgent."
"I swear if you have woken me to talk about your date—" Céleste glared at the clock and fought the urge to throw something at Julia. "Seven? By the heavens, what is that emergent?"
She kicked off her sweat-drenched blankets, trying to forget how seconds before, in her dream, she'd been stuck on a battlefield, caught between two warring countries.
Julia's enormous coat flooded the floors as she marched up to Céleste. "The King is here. King Antoine. He arrived early this morning with Denis... who missed our date, thanks to you, I am told. I spent all night worried sick that he no longer cared for me."
Céleste hurried to her feet and shoved the girl out of her way as she scuffled behind her shift.
"It was a matter of great importance. Where is the King?" She shed her nightwear, fastened her undergarments, and shrugged on the alabaster and violet number she'd picked out the night before. "Does he wish to see me?"
"In the stables." Julia's voice came from so close, Céleste feared she'd sneak around the changing panel and encourage her to dress faster. "Yes, he wants to see us. Denis woke me earlier than you, so do not complain to me. Hurry."
Céleste rolled on her stockings in record time, jumped into a pair of heeled slippers, slid on gloves, and retrieved a cloak from her closet. She imagined the air would be slick with frost, so she nestled the cloak's hood up to her neck and hastened after Julia.
Luckily, no nobles had risen. Everyone snuggled in the comforts of their rooms, enjoying their pretty dreams of money and success, basking in security and pricey possessions. Céleste sneered at the thought; she couldn't enjoy such luxuries when plagued by so many nightmares.
They poured out into the courtyard and swished through the dewy grass, Céleste concentrating on not tripping over her skirts or stepping into puddles, ignoring her rumbling belly and her fogginess.
I must be sharp to meet with Antoine.
The rusted stable doors wrenched open when she and Julia arrived a few feet from them. Denis' friendly face greeted them as he slid out, garbed in his traditional Totresian uniform. He reached for Julia and tugged her inside, then he pulled Céleste in too and shut the doors behind them.
"Pardon the early hour, but His Majesty..." he moved aside, leaving place for Antoine to make himself seen.
The King meandered over from the back office in an uncustomary suit of black trimmed with crimson. His hair was its habitual mess, and all manners of concern ignited in his expression. His shoulders, once so broad and powerful, appeared to shrink.
"Thank you for joining me out here, ladies. I could not go inside yet."
The girls curtsied, and Céleste watched as Antoine peered down at his feet and shuffled them.
"I had to ponder your note, Miss Richel. I did not show it to Mother, but she saw my distress, so I went for a ride in the forest, to think. Now..." His neck snapped up so fast, Céleste's breaths choked her. "I need details." He waved the paper at her—Jules' plea for help.
"Do... do they know?" Céleste jutted her chin at Julia, then Denis. The former shook her head, but the latter acquiesced.
Antoine held the note up higher, scanning it as if seeing it for the first time. "Jules delivered this to you in person?"
"He slipped it to me before dinner and asked me not to read it until later, but..." Céleste cringed. "I could not wait. I had to read it, and I am glad I did."
Stuffing the paper inside his coat, Antoine grunted. "Did anyone witness him giving it to you? Or notice you reading it?"
Thinking back, Céleste puckered her lips. "No... everyone was focused on finding their seats or marveling over Charlotte. And when I read it, I unfolded it under the table. No straying gazes would have caught it. Once done, I snuck it into my sleeve."
The King slung his fingertips through his chestnut-and-copper curls and blew out his cheeks. "Thank you for making me aware of it, but I have no clue who my brother fears, and I am unsure if it is a trap."
"It is not." Céleste swallowed the lump of anxiety that had formed at the top of her throat. "I believe him. Your brother... I doubt he has any clue what is going on. He may be manipulated, and that is why he needs help."
"Manipulated again?" Antoine scoffed. "So Mother is behind this?"
"His wife implies as much. And yet," Céleste sent a brief side-glance at Julia, "said wife is a suspect, too. Her attitude of late has been odd. Odder than usual." She planted her feet on the hay-covered ground. "She may work with your mother. Both are string-pullers, both want him to retain the crown... your mother for power, Charlotte for fame and to please her father."
Julia's eyebrows scrunched, and she appeared ready to storm over and slap Céleste. "I told you that in confidence!"
Antoine flicked his wrist at her. "You were to tell us all you knew about Charlotte, so there are no secrets here." He flipped to Céleste and squinted at her. "I cannot dismiss this. But why? Aside from trapping Jules into keeping my crown and shunning me, what have these two women done that differs from the usual? What behaviors prompt you to suspect this?"
She'd almost forgotten the cherry atop the rotting pie that was the Torrinni court; the new reason uncertainty had prodded into her head.
"Your sister." She inhaled, and released her breath slow, controlled, but shivering. "Someone sent her abroad, to escape the family drama, or so Charlotte claimed."
Julia gasped and grabbed Denis' hand. "The Princess?"
"Family drama?" Any previous calm in Antoine's demeanor melted. Fire, flickering orange and shimmering yellow and raging red woke in his eyes. His fists tightened, and he stomped up to Céleste, stopping inches before hurdling into her. "My sister is gone?" He crammed one fist into his mouth and bit down hard before releasing. "Who did it? Where is she?"
Knees buckling as this mountain of a man towered over her, Céleste skidded backwards. He wouldn't harm her, and yet his dragon-fire breaths terrified her, and she struggled enough as it was to fight gravity and stay upright.
"We do not know, Majesty. Julia and I wondered, and I worried, so I..." She spun to Julia and bit her lip. "After our tea, yesterday, I crept up to Cordelia's quarters, to check on her." Julia frowned, but Céleste returned to Antoine, whose brows had slanted downwards. "The room was chaos. All her belongings sprawled out, trinkets and accessories all over... like a storm had passed through, or someone came in looking for something. And then Charlotte found me in there, mere minutes after I entered. As if she had been spying on me and knew I was there."
"Cordelia..." Antoine hunched over, hands on his knees as he sucked in heavy breaths. "What is happening? Where did she go?" Though he kept his head down, Céleste detected the flares of scarlet over his cheeks. "What am I supposed to do?"
Céleste approached and lowered to his height, still battling her quivering limbs. She reached out and touched his arm, and though she expected him to recoil and shrug her off and yell, he didn't move.
"Majesty... Charlotte thinks your mother shipped her off without warning, after we left for Giroma. She says Clémentine still has spies and allies at court. Was she not cut off from everyone?"
"She is." He didn't look up, but his words came out muffled, through clenched teeth and thinned lips. "The only correspondence she can receive is from me, my brothers, my sister. We are her only authorized recipients, too." He let out a strained sigh. "The guards and her staff are sworn to me. With Séb and I out of town, Jules would have had to sign off on her plots. So why would he ask for help if he approved them?"
Not sharing all her concerns would be wrong, but Céleste hated to add more drama to their predicament.
"Your brother is unaware of Cordelia's departure. Charlotte said she did not want rumors reaching him yet, and was adamant I remain quiet until she figured things out."
Antoine's chin slipped up, and he glowered at Céleste, prompting her to shimmy away from him. "I dislike that." He straightened up and tousled his hair. "Mother would not do this. Manipulate Jules though she swore she had no involvement at court? Perhaps. But send Cordelia off in the dead of the night for no real reason? No. Not her daughter. Mother has nothing to do with Cordelia's vanishing." He twisted to Julia and Denis. "I would bet my honor Miss Geitz is responsible for that."
"No." A wheezy moan escaped from Julia as she whisked up to them, her nostrils flared. "You cannot be serious."
Céleste arched an eyebrow, watching Julia's careful composure melt to defend her best friend. "She had me followed to Cordelia's chambers, and crept in behind me, and locked the door after we exited. She will not tell her spouse that his own sister has disappeared? Come now, Julia. Be reasonable."
"No!" Julia's arms shook. "She is devious, yes, and does not love Prince Jules, and thirsts for royalty to placate her father, but... sending the Princess elsewhere? No. You cannot believe she would stoop so low to isolate her husband and... what, control him? For what purpose?"
It was the first time Céleste had witnessed Julia so set in her ways, so persistent in defending Charlotte. It pained her, because Charlotte wouldn't do the same for her. Charlotte defended herself; if anyone had accused Julia of such actions, she wouldn't lift a finger to come to her aid.
"That much has yet to be determined, Miss Espinar, but your friend points her fingers at my mother, and my mother did not do this." Antoine scowled at Julia, causing her to drop her chin, her defiance dissipating under his scrutiny. "So what do you suggest? Why is Charlotte so knowledgeable and secretive? Do you have a decent explanation for that?" His voice boomed, bouncing off the stable walls, rousing a few horses in their nearby enclosures.
"I..." Julia squirmed backwards and into Denis' arms; and though he welcomed her, his features were as conflicted as everyone else's.
"The gossip about her is troubling," he started, before Julia swirled to him and silenced him with a fiery glare.
"No, he is right." Antoine snarled. "I have heard not a single pleasing thing about Charlotte Geitz since she arrived at court, yet you revere her as some goddess? I do not understand. She is my number one suspect for Cordelia's departure. The other matters..." He stalked up to Denis and seized his shoulder, yanking him from Julia. "I have no choice. I need answers, and she will have them. Fetch my mother and deliver her here, Berger."
Céleste covered her mouth, and Julia continued to pout, twisted away from the King as if his gaze would shatter her to pieces.
Denis stilled, unfazed by the monarch's hardened grip around his upper arm. "Is that wise? Bringing her here, to the source of her plots?"
"Do not question me." Antoine's tone trickled with rage as he released Denis, who teetered backwards. "I was so carried away that I forgot my own sister, and her absence is the missing puzzle piece I needed." He pivoted to Céleste, allowing her to view his sallow cheeks and paling skin. "She became entangled in all this, but that shed light on some dire truths; that Mother's viperous schemes would never involve Cordelia. Her disappearance proves there is much more to consider. And though I am more and more certain Mother is innocent, I need proof. I need her here." He switched to Denis. "Ride to Torrinni Palace and bring her. Give the guards this," he extracted a large, golden coin from a jacket pocket, "and they will know the order came from me."
Though he'd been hesitant before, Denis no longer denied his monarch's command. He took the coin, and after a quick peck planted near Julia's brow, he scurried out.
Julia followed on his heels, grumbling about deception and lies and complex schemes she didn't agree with.
At a loss for words, Céleste remained immobile, her brain brewing with inquiries.
Antoine was correct, she knew—Clémentine, dangerous as she was, would be the best person to pry through the games played at court. She would unearth Charlotte's plans if they existed, and thanks to her network of spies—that she'd reactivate in seconds, no doubt—she'd provide the answers. She would figure out who controlled Jules, who Charlotte worked for, and who whispered secrets to Cornelius.
"Drastic, but necessary." Antoine's now neutral expression soothed Céleste, though her heart wouldn't settle on a normal rhythm. "You agree, yes? I can count on you and your support? Your brother and father are nowhere to be seen, and Sébastien, my right hand, is in Giroma, so you are my only clarity in this haze, Céleste."
She nodded, her neckoverheating as her fingers fumbled with her coat buttons. "We are family. Youmay always count on me." She flashed him a smile, and weak and unconvincing asit was, she hoped it would suffice to convey her prayers, for now. "We willuncover this sick plot and restore you to your throne."
•••