A rush of navy blue hurries out the large double doors.
“Thank the gods you two are already here,” Bastion gushes, a wicker basket in hand and a frantic pinch between his eyes. He kisses Card. “It’s absolute madness inside and I desperately need to talkwith someonenormal.Here, I just picked up some lunch from the kitchens. Come with me.”
Around the east side of the castle, there’s a secluded grassy courtyard surrounded by bushes that shelter it from passing eyes. It’s Bash’s favorite place to hide, and it’s there he leads us, almost at a run.
“My mother is having a complete meltdown,” the prince says. “I can’t deal with her anymore. If I have to listen to her complain about me not being able to use magic one more time—like, does she think I can just suddenly start conjuring spells out of nowhere? We’ve been through this so many times and I’ve hadenough! I haveotherskills. Honestly, Merit can’t arrive soon enough. It’s his turn to be nagged.”
He plonks the basket of food in the middle of the grass and starts pacing. Card, probably more than used to this, sits cross-legged and starts taking out the selection of food. I kneel down beside him quietly.
“I know magic is historically supposed to run strong in our family—I mean, Merit was making objects fly before he could even talk—but it’s so naive to think it’s the solution toeverything.Especially with Dad’s health getting worse. These days, he can barely light a candle with magic, butsurelythat doesn’t mean he’s completely useless. He’s the king! Gods, it’s like she hasn’t even heard of diplomacy!” Bash runs clawed hands through his hair. “We can’t just blast people with offensive magic whenever we want! I’ve given other suggestions, written drafts of possible agreements—I even counted every bag of food in our winter storesby myselfand drew up a plan to have it rationed fairly without relying on the trading wagons. At every stage, she overrules me. I’m losing my mind.”
“Strawberry?” Card offers up, and Bash shakes his head.
“Alrick is supposed to be built on equality, peace, and justice for all its citizens. We can achieve reconciliation without magic, but it’s all my fault in her eyes. Every trading wagon stolen from, every guardinjured.” His steps falter and Card’s eyes flicker over the sudden anxiety on Bash’s face. “I mean— It was— I suppose—”
“Babe, sit and have some food.”
Bastion does as he’s told and drops to the ground unceremoniously. Card presses a grape to his fiancé’s mouth, then passes me a plate of raspberries. I hold it in light fingertips, knowing I shouldn’t get involved in this. I should keep quiet and let Bash rant, but Pigeon’s words rattle around my brain.My help costs nothing,she’d said. While the citadel, the queen, does nothing to help her.
It’s anger that summons the words.
“I’ve heard that the north has been receiving much less aid lately,” I say. “That people have had to leave their homes or fend for themselves because the citadel hasn’t been transparent with what happened to cause the pollution. And that the people up there actuallyhaven’tbeen corrupted by that tree—it’s just rumor. It makes me wonder what else is false.”
I am not prepared for the looks they shoot me. Bash is washed pale, his mouth open and an unfamiliar fear in his eyes. Card is similarly stumped, a crease between his eyebrows like he’s stumbled across a language he doesn’t recognize.
“Where…Where did you hear that?” Bastion asks, breathless, like the words winded him.
“Oh. Um.”
“Fliss, I never normally do this,” he says, unblinking. I’ve never seen him like this before. So desperate. So scared. “But I need you to tell me.”
Tell him the truth.
Just like his mother.
I look aside and grip the plate in my lap. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I know better. I screw my eyes tight and take a shuddery breath. Pigeon was kind to me. She saved my life. I don’t want to put her on the radar of the royals she mistrusts.
“Please don’t make me answer,” I whisper.
My words roll through Bastion like an ocean wave. He sits back, a tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks.
“Of course. I’m sorry, Fliss. I apologize. I—I forgot myself. It won’t happen again.”
Card glances between us. After a beat, he quotes, “ ‘Mr. Wolf, what could I possibly have to offer you, when you are strong and fast, and all in our forest know your name?’ ”
We both eye him, confused.
“Don’t you remember, Fliss? Our junior school play,” Card says, casually helping himself to some of the snack-size sausages. “The Wolf and the Rabbit.”
“I remember,” I say.
“I played the wolf, of course,” Card says, grinning at Bash, “and I persuaded the teacher to allow Fliss to be the rabbit despite her being the shyest child alive. Fliss had the cutest costume, didn’t you? This little tail and fluffy ears. You should have seen it, babe. I wanted to wear a real wolf head but they wouldn’t let me. My grandparents have a painting of us actually. I’ll have to dig it out. Anyway, near the end of the play, you know when the wolf has visited all the other forest animals for help and returns to the rabbit, you were so focused on your lines—”
I give him a small smile and finish his sentence. “I tripped backward and almost fell off the stage.”
Card’s laugh makes Bastion’s shoulders relax.
“I haveneverin my life had to try so hard to keep a straight face.”
