Iron Hearted Violet (23 page)

War
, she thought.
Riots.
It was all in the stories. Why didn’t she see it before? Certainly, there were hints that the Nybbas delighted in both, and caused both when they suited its purpose. But what purpose, she wondered.

What does it want?

Violet crouched down, slowly chewing her apples and cheese. The Nybbas was able to twist the truth, to insinuate itself into the souls of men and women. This she knew from the stories. She knew, as well, that it had to do as it was told. And had done so thus far—it was just very good
at convincing her to choose the things it wanted her to choose.

She chose the things that would strengthen it, nourish it, and give it power.
Very clever
, she thought. She had done this willingly. She had
given it power
. And now… well, she didn’t know. But she was going to find out.

The Nybbas is clever, but the Nybbas is vain.
And the vanity was her only chance. Violet took a deep breath and picked up the mirror.

The jeweled eyes flashed.

Violet smiled and simpered. “Oh, I thought he would
never
go away. Everything has gone wrong, my beloved, and it is all my fault.” The tears rolling down Violet’s cheeks were real. The repressed sobs were real as well. But she hung on to the lie of her words like a shield. She would lie to protect herself from a liar. “The King wouldn’t recognize a real princess if she knocked him down. All of your hard work has been wasted, and it’s all his fault.” The mouth in the mirror twitched a hint of a smile. “What shall I do, my beloved? They’ve trapped me in the dungeon. They’re
jealous
. I
know
it. They’re jealous that I have your love and they do not!” Violet leaned close to the mirror. She felt her belly churning and her throat closing up. She prayed that the creature didn’t notice. “I want you to make them pay, my beloved. I want the kingdom I
deserve
. You are the only one I can trust. Please tell me what to do.”

The face in the mirror blinked, then twitched. Then slowly, a slippery grin unfurled across its beautiful face.

OH, MY CHILD
, it whispered.
I WILL MOVE HEAVEN AND EARTH TO HELP YOU. BUT IF ONLY YOU COULD DO SOMETHING TO HELP ME
… It tried to affect a miserable expression. Violet, who had spent the last few hours being very miserable indeed, wasn’t fooled.

“Tell me what it is, my beloved. Tell me, and I’ll do what I can to help you.” Her heart fluttered desperately within her chest.

IT’S ONLY A TRIFLE, BUT I’M AFRAID IT SHALL BE TRICKY TO EXTRACT. THIS WRETCHED CASTLE IS HIDING IT, YOU SEE. BUT WHEN I AM RESTORED, I SHALL BUILD YOU A NEW CASTLE. WHEN I AM RESTORED, YOU SHALL BE THE GREATEST RULER THE MULTIVERSE HAS EVER SEEN. I WILL BRING ALL CREATURES AND GODS TO THEIR KNEES. EVERY POWER IN THE MULTIVERSE WILL BE MINE—I MEAN, YOURS—TO USE AS YOU WILL. I SHALL GIVE YOU MY HEART, MY SOUL, MY LIFE, AND MY POWER, VIOLET.

“Tell me, my beloved. Tell me what you want.” Violet
shivered and shook. A thin trickle of sweat escaped from her mounds of hair and ran icily down her neck.

GET ME MY HEART, PRINCESS, AND I AM YOURS FOREVER.

Violet nodded, leaned her face to the warm glass of the mirror, and pressed her lips to the slippery grin of the Nybbas. “If you can magic me out of this prison,” Violet said, “I will do whatever you want.” In her heart she knew what she’d do. Break the mirror. Break every mirror. Cut the thing at its throat. Keep it from speaking. She hardened her mind to the influence of the Nybbas and painted a simpering smile on her lips like a mask. “Tell me how,” she said.

The King left at midnight. I did everything,
everything
, my dears, that I could think of to dissuade him. I reasoned; I begged; I bargained. I even threatened to call in the guards to strap him in irons and throw him into the dungeons.

“There is no force anywhere in the mirrored world, Cassian,” King Randall said, “that will ever keep a father from his child.”

“Your Majesty,” I began, but he shook his head.

“Even if you locked me up, I would find my way out again. You forget, I have done more to uncover the secrets of this
castle than any monarch before me. It would only be a matter of time before my escape. Let me go with love, beloved Cassian, and not with anger. I
know
where Violet is. I
saw
her.”

My heart sank. It was a trick. I
knew
it was a trick. But the crown on my head made me dizzy. The guards stood slightly apart, holding the open irons limply in their dangling hands, their eyes averted from the scene. I stood up, tried to appear if not
kingly
then
formidable
, perhaps, and cleared my throat.

“My King,” I said, bowing to King Randall, “it is my opinion that you have been tricked. There is a reason, Your Majesty, for this… concurrence. The capture of your hunting party. The war. The vanishing of Violet. The glut of impostors. It can’t be coincidental. It is my belief that we—”

The King held up his hand. “Enough, Cassian.” He did not look at me. He looked at the mirror. The
mirror
! How I wish I had turned right then and there and smashed it to pieces with my fists! “You may arrest me if you like. You may bind me or bless me. My horse is fitted, and our provisions packed. I—” He paused. “I…
will not—”
The King closed his eyes and swallowed hard, pressing his hand to his heart before he could continue. “I will not return to this castle without my Violet. Nay, I
cannot
.”

And with that, my King drew a tattered cloak and hood over his head and shoulders and mounted his horse. He raised his hands to the guards at the gate, who looked at me quizzically.

“Yes,” I said to the guards, my voice like thistles in my throat. “Let him go.” As the King rode out into the night, my heart shattered into pieces. I stood at the doorway, watching him disappear into the smoky chaos that our city—now camp of war—had become. Tents leaned upon other tents. Forges belched smoke while makeshift hospitals shook with the moans of the injured and the cries of those mourning their dead.

“Come back!” I called out, though I knew he did not hear me, and if he did, he would not have heeded. The King was gone, and I was alone.

After meeting with the council of war one last time, I approved a foolish, bullheaded plan to ambush the camp of the Mountain King. A plan so reliant on unknowns and false hopes, even a child could have seen the folly in it. But I had no strength to oppose, my standing among them being tenuous at best, before retiring to my quarters. The crown weighed heavily on my head, and my shoulders bent under the burdens of the world. Each time I passed a mirror,
I saw that face (those glittering eyes and that reptilian grin!) and heard its voice insinuating itself into my unwilling ears.

IT’S WHAT YOU’VE ALWAYS WANTED.

IT’S WHAT YOU DESERVE.

HOW NOBLE IN YOUR CROWN! HOW REGAL! HOW RARE!

LOOK AT YOURSELF!

But I would not look. I didn’t trust myself to look. It was the Nybbas, I was sure. And the Nybbas was right. I did not want power. Gods, forgive me!

Thankfully, as I approached my quarters (my own quarters, thank you very much—I was not about to presume to stay in the King’s room, though I now had the key) every mirror I passed was turned toward the wall. So relieved was I, it did not occur to me to wonder at it.

I opened my door. The room was dark and cold. No candles burned. No fire flickered in the hearth.

“Close the door, Cassian,” Violet’s voice came through the darkness. “We have much to discuss.”

Once again, Demetrius whacked his head against the curved ceiling of the tunnel, this time so hard he saw stars.

“That’s a practice I can’t recommend, dear,” Auntie said without turning back. “I’d rather your brains remain unaddled for the time being. Once we make contact with the Old Gods, you can do what you want, of course.”

“It’s not my
fault
,” Demetrius complained. “The tunnels keep getting smaller.”

“That never used to be a problem. We’ve watched you
and your little Violet shimmy every which way through these tunnels. It’s never bothered you before.”

“It’s not like I
tried
to grow. And besides”—he could feel his cheeks burning with shame as he said it—“she’s not
my
Violet. Violet has always been her
own
.” Demetrius pressed his lips together, listened to the hiss of his breath through his nostrils; his companions, he noticed, walked without a sound. “In any case,” he continued, “I don’t even think she’s my
friend
anymore.” His eyes heated and burned, and his throat swelled. He tried to swallow but couldn’t.

Auntie clicked her tongue thoughtfully. “Hard luck, that. If it were true.”

Up ahead, a slight skittering announced the return of Nod. If Demetrius had not been listening for it, he would never have heard it at all. Auntie shook her head in disgust. “The boy walks like a
human being
,” she said derisively. “You’d think he tied stones to his shoes. Or cymbals.”

Nod tore around the corner and sped—quite out of control—right toward Auntie and Demetrius (Moth silently thanked his lucky stars that he had the forethought to keep up the rear) and smashed headlong into Demetrius’s shoulder, bouncing back and landing on the floor with a thud.

“Ouch,” Demetrius said, surprised that such a small creature could hit that hard.

“Boy’s never been much for subtlety,” Moth muttered. “All speed, no control. His grandpap was the same way, may the Old Ones keep him.”

Nod pulled himself off the floor, shook his head, and sat on his knees. “The King has left the castle, Auntie, just as you said.”

“He
what
?” Demetrius almost shouted.

“
Hush
, child,” Auntie said, smacking him hard against his nose. “You’re sure, Nod? Completely? And the crown? Was the King wearing his crown when he left?”

“No, he ab… abi—” Nod stared at the ceiling as though he might find the word written on the stone.

“Abdicated?” Demetrius prompted.

“I think so. That old windbag storyteller has the crown now. It itches him terrible. The King wore a hood. Tattered thing, but warm by the look of it, so he won’t freeze to death. And I added some food to his saddlebags so he won’t starve, neither.”

“Good boy. If we can get the crown away from that old fool, all’s the better, but there are several things that we’ll
need from the King’s study. Nod, dear, you didn’t see the box anywhere in the King’s saddlebags did you?”

“No, Auntie. And I checked everything.”

“He wasn’t carrying anything on his body? A satchel or a sack, maybe? Anything that might hold his papers?”

Nod rocked back on his heels. “Nawp, Auntie. Just himself.”

“Good,” she said, turning away from Demetrius and hurrying into the dark. “If the Nybbas knew about the research or the notes, it would have convinced the King to bring them. This, my dears, is borrowed time. Keep up, Demetrius; we’re nearly there.”