“I’ll get His Highness,” Will says, walking past us and through double doors into the ballroom.
When he’s gone, Alia extracts herself from me and pins her eyes on mine, pointing quickly to her lips. She wants to use a word we don’t have in signs.Sacrifice.
Like the day before, Alia makes the sign forwitch, and then presses her hand to her throat. Then, she touches the ends of my wrecked hair in question.
She wants to know what I gave up to be here. If not my voice, then what?
The questions continue, pieced together in signs and mouthed words.
What else did you sacrifice? Your hair? It looks stupid. Why on earth would you let her do that? Why on earth would you come here at all? Runa, this is too dangerous. What were you thinking? Were you thinking?
“I—”
A peal of laughter stops my explanation dead in its tracks. “Alia! Her name is Alia? Bring her here—I must see her.”
Will appears and leads both of us into the ballroom, and toward a titter of amusement. The chandeliers glowthough daylight streams in through more double doors that lead onto a balcony. The king is surrounded by maids, setting up the room for a grand feast.
“My foundling does have a name!” His dimples flash, and he takes Alia by the hand, twirling her under the twinkling lights. His amusement is enough that no one in the room can avoid it. After the spin, he crushes her into a quick embrace. It seems more intimate than the kiss on the balcony, and I catch Will looking away as I do the same.
When they separate, he places his hands gently on her shoulders. “And it is a lovely name indeed.” My sister can’t help it, a smile melts across her face—whatever had made her upset when we saw her in the hallway is gone. Niklas seems pleased at that. He turns to present himself to me.
“And you’re her friend? Runa, is it?” His delight flashes my way, and it’s nearly as blinding as the sun. “I’m King Niklas, but please do call me Niklas—there’s no need for titles among friends.”
I didn’t expect him to be so warm. I really didn’t. Not from any look I’ve had at him—far away, up close, nor through Alia’s moon-eyed descriptions.
I clear my throat. “Runa—yes, Your Highness,” I say, and he seems to like the title even though he just shrugged it off. Men always prefer titles that make them sound important, and anything else is a lie. “I came in search of her when her party didn’t arrive, and I’ve been so worried. It’s very fortunate that you found her and took herin—thank you for your kind hospitality.”
“Oh, Runa, you’ll have to answer all the questions that Alia”—he pauses on yet another chance to say her name, before continuing—“has been unable to answer for me.” Then something occurs to him, and his eyes shift from mine to Alia’s and back. “Oh, please tell me she can stay for a few days more. You won’t be stealing her back to Helsingør right off, will you?”
Helsingør. They must have had Alia point at a map. So that’s where we’re from, then.
I glance at Alia to make like I’m double-checking, and then I say, “We’d love to stay, but we don’t want to be a bother—I hear you’re to be married. Congratulations.”
When Niklas answers, it’s to Alia, whose hands he holds in both of his. The joy has softened in his voice, and it seems as though he’s momentarily forgotten that both Will and I are standing there. I look at my hands. I can’t watch him be so caring—not with the knife meant to murder him pressed against my ribs.
“Please stay. And please come to the wedding.”
Oh, Urda.Heischarming. With his stupid eyes and his stupid dimples and his stupid broad shoulders. It’s true.
And maybe he does really care for Alia.
But even if she had her voice and could tell him what she’d done and how she loves him—even if I could betray our kind by telling him myself—four days to love relies on him. He must love her. He must feel enough that themagic has no choice but to bend to the will of his heart. Not hers. The burden of proof is on his stupid head, and Alia’s picked a man who may never see it.
I hate it, but my mind jumps to our father. Despite his now monstrous ways, he was once a man who fell so deeply in love, so quickly, that he changed a woman in the minute before she drowned. But that sort of instant, powerful love is rare, and sadly, that love isn’t this love. Niklas’s love won’t be powerful enough—not in an instant, not in four days, and most certainly not with the roadblocks of duty, war, and obligation. Still, Alia nods, and he pulls her into yet another heartbreaking hug.
There’s a commotion behind us. I turn, and Will is offering his own embrace to a woman escorted by the other boy from the balcony. Phillip. I hear a girl’s sweet voice say, “They told me you were coming to greet me, Cousin!”
When he releases her, it’s to present her, his hand holding hers aloft, and I can already sense Alia’s heart sinking. Will smiles at the girl and then at his friend and soon-to-be cousin. “My good king, Komtesse Sofie of the Duchy of Holsten has finally arrived.”
10
Runa
ALIA ANDIDO OUR CURTSIES AND HOLD OUR SMILES ASthe three of them catch up.
Cousins Will and Sofie have the same rosy cheeks and light brown hair, but it’s clear right away that Will and Niklas know each other much better than either knows Sofie. Still, they’ve existed in the same constellation for all their lives, some upper echelon of culture not hampered by kingdom lines. The right name, the right blood, and immediate trust is given. It’s the same below the surface.
I wish to hate everything about this girl just like I do Niklas, but she’s so enthusiastic, it’s almost impossible not to be moved by her energy. She laughs with her whole body, her Danish touched by the German so common in Holsten. Plus, she has a book in her grip—by the look of it,Effi Briest—and honestly, there’s nothing I love more thanreading. But this girl is not meant to be my friend. And certainly not Alia’s.
