Cold Iron Page 8

  Uncle Sakari said, “Would you care for a tonic?”

  Her self-control slipped. A derisive sound escaped her throat. Her uncle’s reported penchant for poisoning changed it into a cough. “No. Ah. Thank you.”

  Two ladies dressed in aqua silk evening gowns rose, bowed. One wore a fashionable patch on her cheek in the shape of a tiny heart. Suvi felt she should know their names but couldn’t ­remember them. Rushed, the pair stood a little too close, and their pocket hoops—wider at the sides than at the front and back—forced them to present themselves at a less-than-graceful angle. Uncle Sakari nodded a dismissal, took over one of their vacated seats, and looped an arm over the back of the empty chair.

  “I think I’ll have some wine,” Suvi said.

  “I’ll wait here.”

  She crossed the dance floor to one of the servants carrying a tray of glasses. After giving her uncle’s reputation some thought, she selected two crystal goblets instead of one. To his credit, he accepted the wine from her with only a moment’s hesitation when she returned. Pleased with her jest but knowing she would pay for it later, she watched him drink the contents before sipping her own wine. Light shimmered through the dark liquid and brought out deep burgundy shades the color of blood.

  Blood, blood, blood, Piritta’s thoughts cut in. You are in a mood.

  Uncle Sakari’s fingers wrapped around the glass in precise arcs.

  Suvi allowed a smile-mask to take over her face, then forced her eyes into what she knew was an unnatural violet. She noticed with a start his were the same shade. “Will you join us for the birthday supper?” she asked.

  “I’m honored by the invitation, but I must leave for Ytlain tonight.”

  Suvi nodded, disguising relief in disappointment. “Ytlain again. I hear Cousin Jenna has reached Binding age. Will you call upon her?”

  Newly crowned and currently without an heir, Edvard of Ytlain had made it clear that Sakari would be Edvard’s last preference as consort for his sister, risking outright war in doing so.

  “Not at this time.” Her uncle reflected her smile, but his eyebrows bunched together. The wet shine of his flat eyes was cut off by his eyelids. It made her think of a lighthouse signaling a ship away from the rocks. “Edvard, that damned pirate, has a strangle­hold on our shipping lanes again. You’d think he’d have more respect. He thinks that because his first cousin is now our queen, he can do whatever he likes. He should’ve been taught better.”

  “What about negotiating an ocean route?”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s the logical option. Why start another conflict we can’t afford? We’re already fighting the Acrasians—”

  Her uncle snorted.

  Suvi pressed on. “Cousin Edvard has no power over us. Not when we have other options.”

  “You’re suggesting we negotiate with the Waterborne? Why?”

  Suvi thought, It worked for Grandma Kai and Ytlain. Why shouldn’t it work for us? Of course, you damaged our relationship with them, didn’t you, Uncle? “Why not? They would make a powerful ally.”

  “The Waterborne Nations don’t have allies. They have customers. They trade with anyone. What makes you think we can trust them?”

  “Waterborne contracts are absolute. They’ve a reputation for honesty and strict neutrality for good reason. Captains and crew members are magically bound to silence. They can’t publicly declare the identities of their clients, much less discuss their interests. They aren’t even allowed to trade in client information gained through their travels. Ask a Waterborne what the weather is like in Massilia or Tahmer, and they’ll tell you nothing. They may not take sides with individual countries, but they are loyal to themselves and their contracts.

  “Eledore has suffered greatly since our connection with them was severed”—Suvi watched her uncle’s frown deepen at the allusion to his past blunder. Careful. She pressed on, pretending not to notice—“not only in trade but in other areas. Waterborne naturalists have made many advances in the studies of engineering, medicine, mathematics, navigation, and astronomy. Far more than we have in decades.”

  “The Waterborne are filthy little tradesmen with nothing of their own but what they steal. Where is their country? Their king?” It was obvious from his vehement tone that she’d struck a sore spot. “They don’t even have ports of their own—not any they don’t rent.”

  At least, Suvi thought, none that you know of. Embarrassed, she checked to see if any of her guests were near. “The Waterborne aren’t pirates.” Although you employ privateers, don’t you, Uncle? “Even if we don’t sign a trade contract with them, think of what we could learn.”

  “Magical power is that which moves the world. The ability to bend others to your will is everything. No amount of intellectual daydreaming can change that.”

  “We can gain advantages from such knowledge and conserve magic for better uses.” As Ytlain does, Suvi thought.

  “Ytlain is the power with which we must negotiate, not those—those merchants.”

  Suvi bit down on a retort. It was pointless to continue. And when I’m queen, his opinion won’t matter, anyway. “Then I wish you good fortune in your treaties with Cousin Edvard.”

  An explosion of applause signaled an intermission. The king got up from his chair and a procession formed behind him. Suvi swallowed the last of her wine, gave her uncle a nod, and then assumed her place between her parents.

  Uncle Sakari approached her father. “My regrets, Sire, but I cannot further delay my departure. My barge leaves for Mehrinna within the hour.”

  Her father gave her uncle a distracted smile. “Safe journey.”

  Uncle Sakari turned, and one eye closed in a mirthless wink. “Be good, Little Sparrow.”

  Suvi shivered. “Sparrow” was her father’s pet name for her, and Uncle Sakari had never used it before. “I will.” She gazed across the room and thought again of her plans to combat her uncle for power. And the Eledorean army.

  I will do what I must for the kingdom.

  Poor Nels.

  Her uncle abandoned the ballroom, and Suvi followed the others to the banquet hall, staring holes into her Uncle’s retreating back as she went.

  TWO

  The mantel clock had just finished striking midnight when a loud tink against the balcony glass gave Suvi a start. She threw aside the bedcovers and fetched the candle to see who it was. The world’s worst hoot owl imitation rose up from the garden and answered her question before she reached the other side of the room. She rushed to throw open the glass-paned balcony doors before he broke a window. Setting the candle on the ledge and then leaning over the railing, she spotted her brother, Nels, below. Free of its regimental pigtail, his hair was as long as hers, easily reaching his hips. With no hat to conceal its distinctive color, it glowed a brilliant white against the darkness of his unbuttoned captain’s coat.

  How long has it been since I’ve seen his hair free of a soldier’s club? A year?

  An army rucksack rested at his feet, and he pointed to a small burlap bag in his raised hand. She nodded, retreating into her rooms, and then searched for a day dress to throw over her silk shift. There was no one to get her into the dress properly, not without waking Piritta, and Suvi wasn’t about to take time for stays, pocket hoops, and petticoats. She hoped no one would see her on the stairs and—

  Why take the stairs?

  Nels’s rooms had once been next to hers, and long before, he had made arrangements with a sympathetic gardener to fix a ­trellis to the palace wall. It was placed so that it could be reached via either balcony. That trellis had been a childhood bridge to nighttime escapades from that point forward. She hadn’t used it since the day she had turned thirteen and had told Nels she was too sophisticated for such things. Feeling like a carefree child, she jammed her arms into the sleeves of her overdress and flew to the balcony barefoot. She grasped the trellis and hooked her toes into the cool iron bars hidden among the leaves. The spicy green scent of ivy
and soft spring air made her feel more awake than she had in months. She used to imagine herself swinging through the rigging of one of her father’s ships as she climbed, and the memory made her feel light. It’d been too long since she’d walked a ship’s rigging. She missed the lakes almost as much as she missed her brother. She’d gotten halfway down when her foot snagged on the hem of her dress. Catching herself easily, she continued her descent. Below, she heard Nels stifle a laugh.

  Go ahead. Snicker, she thought. I’d like to see you try to navigate an overgrown trellis in skirts.

  Landing safely at the bottom, she slapped him on the shoulder. She almost had to stand on her toes to do it. He was a good six inches taller now. There were hard muscles under his sleeve. He’d filled out, too. All in all, he was less awkward than he used to be, more athletic. He’d made a fine soldier in spite of himself. Rumor had it that he was particularly good with a sword. He’d won two duels that she knew of. It occurred to her that neither of them had gotten the future they’d wanted, and yet she had a feeling they were each more suited to their fates than previously thought. Maybe everything will be all right for him after all. “Where were you tonight?”

  “Out.”

  “Fine. Don’t tell me.” She reached for the bag. “What did you bring?”

  He jerked the prize out of reach with a wicked smile. “Who says it’s for you?”

  “Are you going to tell me you’ve been throwing rocks at the wrong window? Should I get Piritta?” Suvi gathered her skirts and turned on her heel. “She’ll be delighted. Hope you weren’t planning on sleeping tonight.”

  He grabbed her arm and tugged her back from the trellis. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Do you have any idea how long she’s wanted to bed you?” Suvi made another playful attempt to escape his grasp. “I’m certain she can spare the energy. I haven’t seen Lieutenant Juusten in three weeks.”

  “Suvi, please. Don’t talk like that.” He was blushing.

  The housekeeper Suvi employed to keep watch over Nels said that there were no lovers in her brother’s life—not that he wasn’t capable of hiding such things from a mere housekeeper. Nonetheless, Piritta was a sore subject. Suvi didn’t understand what held her brother back. She assumed the reasons were sewn to his sleeves, not that it stopped others of his vocation. Rather, it tended to have the opposite effect, and since bedding a soldier was considered daring, there were any number of candidates willing to do so—Piritta included. Whatever his reasons were, it was obvious the matter of Piritta caused Nels discomfort, and it’d been far too long since Suvi had seen him to risk bad feelings. She stopped teasing and put out a hand. “What did you bring for me?”

  His shoulders slumped. He handed over the bag with an exaggerated sigh. “Acrasian blood oranges.”

  She let out a joyful squeak. “Where did you get them?”

  “May we retire somewhere more private? Or are you planning on inviting the entire Royal Guard to our birthday picnic?”

  “They already know you’re here.” She hugged the oranges to her chest. “You’d think after ten years, you could get that call right. I know you’ve heard an owl hoot.”

  He tugged her away from the palace wall. “If I did it properly, you wouldn’t know it was me.” He headed for the hedge maze, their childhood hiding place and their traditional meeting spot, but she pulled at his arm. He glanced over his shoulder, confused.

  “I don’t trust the maze. Not tonight,” she said. Who’s to say Uncle Sakari doesn’t have someone watching? And she definitely didn’t want to wake Piritta—not now.

  “Then where?”

  Suvi scanned the garden until she spotted the small boat moored at the river dock. The Lissa was an eighteen-footer and technically a sloop, but the mast was designed to collapse so it could double as a rowboat. Hiding the sail made Lissa less noticeable. Suvi used her when she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Water weakened Eledorean magic. Therefore, the chances of being spied upon were less. Her grin spread wide as she tugged her brother toward the dock nestled between the willow trees. “I know just the place.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Upon reaching the dock, he slowed and dug in his heels. Her hand slipped through his, and she stumbled. Turning to him, she said, “You won’t even have to row, you big baby.”

  “It leaks.”

  “She does not,” Suvi said, and then lowered her voice. “I need to talk to you. The lake is the safest place.”

  He stared down at the boat. “No tricks?”

  When they were younger, she would’ve lied, but not now. “No tipping. I promise.”

  He swallowed once before clumsily stepping from the dock into the boat’s prow, nearly flipping it. After the initial graceless scramble, he settled into the bottom of the boat with his ryggsack rather than sitting on the bench. She yanked the dock line free from its slipknot and picked up the oars. Nels frowned up at her, both hands clutching the side. His knuckles were white.

  “What did you want to talk about?” he asked.

  “Relax, will you? I said no tricks.” She gave him her most reassuring smile. “You talk first. Be as quiet as you can. Voices carry across water if you’re not careful.”

  Satisfied that they were far enough from the shore, she dropped anchor and tossed the oars onto the benches. Her shoulders and arms ached, but the warmth in her muscles felt good. With the sailing gear secure, a cozy ten-foot-by-five-foot space was created in the boat’s bottom. Nels had taken shelter in the left half, away from sails, line, and swinging oars. She joined him, gathered her skirts, and brought her knees up to her chin.

  He waited until the boat stopped rocking, then reached into his pack, handing her a little box tied with a ribbon. “Sorry it’s late.”

  And I was angry about him missing our stupid ball. “The oranges are enough. I don’t need anything else.”

  “Please open it.”

  She tugged at the ribbon and pried at the lid. A dark bird-shaped pin nested inside, its wings spread in flight.

  “It’s a cardinal. I couldn’t find a sparrow. And I couldn’t have one made in time,” he said, embarrassed. “The stones aren’t real. They’re … glass. It’s all right if you don’t like it, but I thought …” His voice trailed off.

  Tears blurred her vision, and she could no longer see the pin in her hand. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She wiped her face and secured the cardinal to the front of her shift. “Cardinals are related to sparrows, if you believe the Acrasian naturalists.” She sniffed and touched the pin. The glass chips were rough against her fingers. “Thank you. I adore it.”

  “I’m glad.” He looked relieved.

  “I didn’t get you anything.”

  “That isn’t true.” After pulling off his boots, Nels stretched out on his back and stared up at the stars. One of his red wool stockings had a hole in the heel.

  Why doesn’t father give him an allowance? She remembered the gifts he’d brought her with a measure of guilt, having subsisted on a limited allowance herself before becoming crown princess. Her mother had insisted it was good training, and in the end, Suvi had to admit that it had been, but Nels hadn’t been given the emotional support she’d had. Their father had cut him off. What did all this cost Nels? She silently vowed to do more for him in the future.

  “Go on. Eat.” Seeming to forget where he was, he propped his feet up on the lip of the boat and wiggled his toes as she dug into the oranges. He then said in Acrasian, “How long has it been since I let you take me out in this thing? Three years? Four?”

  “Four.” She grinned, wiping at the sticky sweetness burning on her chin with the back of a hand. She found Acrasian too crude, too guttural compared to the graceful flow of Eledorean, but they had used it as their secret language since they were twelve. “Glad you here. You the money got?”

  He wrinkled up his face in disgust. “You’re out of practice.”

  She threw an orange p
eel at him. “You away too long. Talk. I listen.”

  He pillowed the back of his head with both hands and took a deep breath. “I got the money. Thank you. And we began training with the muskets last week. However, I can only make use of five. One of the six delivered was a matchlock.”

  “Is difference there?”

  “Is there a difference. Yes.” He rolled his head away from another tossed peel. It fell into his hair. Suvi resisted the urge to pluck it out. They were too old, and they’d been apart for too long for her to mother him anymore.

  “Flintlocks are more reliable and don’t require a lit match. Battlefield conditions are rarely ideal. It’s difficult to keep the damn things from getting wet, going out, or touching off at the wrong time.”

  She took a moment to translate her next question. “How do you know this?”

  “You expect me to lead others into battle and know nothing of what I’m doing?”

  She shrugged. “Others do.”

  “Not me.” A determined look appeared on his face, and she knew it for what it was.

  Oh, Nels. Do you think Father is going to notice or even care? A sharp pain lodged in her throat, and she stared at the orange pieces in her red-stained hands.

  “More muskets, balls, and powder should arrive next week,” he said, and paused. “Are you certain you won’t get into trouble for this?”

  Smuggling Acrasian weapons into the country was illegal. The military was expected to use magic and traditional weapons to combat the enemy. Of course, most wouldn’t be in the army if they’d had reliable magical power in the first place. Years into the war against the Acrasians, the nobility’s mercenaries had resorted to using whatever weapons they could afford on the front, and Uncle Sakari made a fortune secretly selling weapons to them. Ultimately, Suvi knew that breaking the law wasn’t what would matter if they were caught—it was that she’d created her own supplier. If their uncle found out, there would be blood to pay and not all of it common.

  Nels thought of my safety first and not what he could gain. She shook her head as if to dislodge the guilt. “He won’t find out.” They both knew who she meant.