Stitching Snow (26 page)

The sooner we could get going with this coup, the better.

After days of twiddling my algorithms, Margaret-the-aide told me Father was back. The sharp edge between Dane and me had dulled enough that I was glad he insisted on coming along for 244

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my afternoon meeting. Arguing or not, I felt less jittery with him around.

“Snowfl ake!” Father greeted me when we entered the private chamber behind the throne room. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.

These new developments in the war . . . The Exiles will never let me rest, it seems.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” I said. “I’d like to visit the outlands.”

“Out of the question. It’s too dangerous.” I’d expected that. “I don’t mean the front lines, Father. There must be areas where the militia commanders make decisions, take care of the wounded, and all that. Maybe if I see it for myself, I can think of some way to help.” When he opened his mouth to protest again, I cut him off. “I’m not
that
delicate. I did survive eight years on Thanda. Besides, military service is among my duties as princess-to-the-crown, isn’t it?” He hesitated, rapping his fi ngers on his desk. “It is. Are you certain that’s what you want? You could stay here, arrange more social events.”

“That’s not the kind of princess I want to be. I want to be one that’s of use to you and Windsong and the entire realm. Like you said, learn how to lead someday.” Another glimmer of pride lit his eyes. “Yes, you always liked to keep busy with something useful. And nothing can replace experience. When you return, we can discuss your thoughts.”

“Return from where?” Olivia had slipped in through one of the secret doors again. I caught a half-second glare at my mother’s locket and took a slow breath to keep my face impassive.

“Snow wishes to visit the outlands, see if she can be of some use.”

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Olivia’s glare shifted to Dane. He stood too close, and suspicion lit in her eyes. I shot him a fi erce glare of my own. Too fi erce, maybe—I saw a fll ash of surprise before he took a half step back.

“Very dangerous in the outlands,” Olivia said smoothly. “Is that wise? She’s so young.”

“When I was her age, I led a battalion in my father’s defeat of the rebel movement on Garam. And she’s strong. Yes, I think it will do her good. I’ll make arrangements,” he said. “You’ll be able to leave this evening.”

I called to mind the feeling of my fi rst successful upgrade on Whirligig so my smile would be genuine. “Thank you, Father.” Olivia smiled as well. A very different smile. “Let’s leave your father to coordinate that, Snow. Come walk with me in the garden.”

Any excuse to refuse would look fll imsy and weak, so I followed her out to the rose garden, Dane on my heels. Olivia’s own guard from the Midnight Blade followed as well. Once we were on the footpath, decorum demanded the guards drop back out of earshot. I would bet all my Thandan shares that Dane’s hand didn’t move more than a sniff from his best throwing dagger.

“Snow, dear, are you sure this is what you want? The war has made the outlands an unpleasant place.”

“I can handle it.”

She looked sidelong at me. I tried to read her eyes, but all I got was the usual suspicion and distaste. “Can you? Thanda is one thing, and the Ascetics’ home is hardly a war zone.” No, it wasn’t. And I couldn’t tell Olivia about the mining injuries I’d seen and the fi ghts I’d been in, so I stayed silent.

“Do you know what Exiles are like?”

“I know a bit. And that’s part of why I’m going, to understand 246

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the situation better.” I decided to try a little dig. “The kingdom will be mine one day. I need to learn all I can before then.”

“First you must prove you’re fi t to lead,” she said sharply.

“I think I might surprise you.”

“I think you’re a lot like your mother.”

“Thank you. Quite the compliment.”

Olivia stepped a little closer. I focused on a bush of delicate tricolor roses to keep from tensing up. “Do you know the one thing that makes us vulnerable to the Exiles?” she asked. “Lack of conviction. And I think you’ll fi nd I don’t suffer from that in the slightest. Without that to prey on, they’re weak.” Any response I might’ve had caught on her last words. Was she saying she thought I
did
lack conviction? That I’d never be a proper queen because of it? Or was she hinting she’d known what my mother was?

And what I was?

Getting out of the palace for a while sounded better than ever.

The trip to the outlands meant no heels. That was a positive.

The possibility of rooting out some evidence against my father was another. I tried to focus on those. Father insisted on a long route by hover transport to the other side of Windsong, saying both armies used far too much antiaircraft weaponry to risk me in a shuttle. He did let us use the fastest transport available—so it could have been worse—and sent one of his Golden Sword guards to pilot it.

When Dane and I arrived at the transport hub, the guard 247

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stood waiting at attention. Then he snapped a salute at me. I just stared until Dane subtly kicked my foot, reminding me to give the most regal nod I could muster.

“Your Highness,” the guard said to me. “Sir,” he added to Dane.

That got Dane to stare. I considered kicking
his
foot, but decided against it.

“You’re the senior offi cer of the Silver Dagger,” the guard explained. “That means you outrank me.” He had to be ten standard years older than either of us, but he didn’t seem to mind being outranked. If anything, he seemed happy to be accompanying us.

“What’s your name?” I asked as we climbed in.

“Theo, Your Highness.”

“Well, Theo, call me Princess if you must, but hearing ‘Your Highness’ endlessly might unhinge me.” He smiled shyly, turning his attention to the predeparture checklist. “If you say so, Princess.” I didn’t like hearing
Princess
that much more, but I could live with it.

We left before dusk, and the journey would take almost a full day. Because we were going to the other side of Windsong, though, it would only be the next morning. We stayed awake as long as we could, preparing for the time adjustment. Dane fell asleep fi rst, convinced enough that Theo wouldn’t try to kill me mid-journey, while I remained fi xated on my slate.

The guard glanced over his shoulder before speaking up quietly. “If I may ask, Princess, what is that you’ve been working on?”

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“Just a bit of programming. I fi ddle with tech when I have the time.”

“Nothing
but
time on this trip, I suppose. The sun will be back around to us soon, though, so at least you’ll have a better view than the inside of this thing.”

I looked at the comfortable seats and sleek control panels, with plenty of room to walk around. “It’s not that bad. I’m not exactly used to palace opulence anymore.”

“Yes, I heard. The Ascetics on Thanda, was it? Tragic that you were kept from your family, of course, but it does sound like you had an interesting time of it.”

“That’s one word for it.”

Theo glanced back again and smiled. “Most things in life are a bit of good with the bad, aren’t they? Just the same, I’m sure we’re all glad you’re back, and helping His Majesty like this, too.”

This man wasn’t what I’d expect of one of my father’s guards.

Friendly, open, even kind. Then again, Kip hadn’t been what one would expect of Olivia’s guards, either. But Kip had been my mother’s guard fi rst and had just put on an act for Olivia so he could stay on after Mother’s death.

“Could I ask, Theo, why did you join the Golden Sword?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear a silly story like that one, Princess.”

“Actually, I do. Unless it’s too personal.” With just the light coming off the console, I could still see a slight blush. “I remember your mother, you see. Queen Alaina.

She visited my school and talked about the citizens of Windsong, the things she felt we stood for . . . honesty, hard work, trust. The same things my parents always taught me. She had 249

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such a presence, a way of making you believe things were possible if she said they were.” He caught himself. “Forgive me, Princess. It’s not my place to speak of her.”

“No, please, go on.”

It took him a moment, but he continued. “That day she visited, I decided I wanted to join the Midnight Blade, to protect her and fi ght for what she believed in. She died not long after that, and I swear, you could see the whole planet grow darker as we mourned her. Then with the betrayals of the Exiles . . . I decided to join the Golden Sword instead, help your father bring peace back to this world and to keep your mother’s memory. So that’s why.”

I wanted to say something kind or comforting, something to let him know my mother would have been happy to have him in her guard. The words refused to come.

Words like that didn’t live inside me.

Instead, all I could identify was rage. This was a good man, who believed in doing the right thing, and my father had him completely duped. For several minutes, I considered telling him the truth. Maybe Dane and I could use an ally.

Not yet.
I’d just met him—not nearly enough time to trust him with what we were doing. My fi rst impressions could be off . . . though they usually weren’t. I’d known Petey wouldn’t wrong me almost as soon as I met him. I’d defi nitely been right about Tobias.

And Dane . . . My impressions had changed several times since I pulled him from the shuttle and thought he was terrifying. Maybe I’d managed to be both right
and
wrong on that one.

Theo would have to stay in the dark for a while yet. But if we overthrew my father, the existing members of the Golden 250

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Sword would have the option to serve the new leader. Men like Theo would serve well.

One more thing to do before I got myself killed: make sure Theo got the chance to fulfi ll the dream my mother inspired, improving the world rather than serving a tyrant.

Something touched the back of my hand, and I glanced down. Dane. I wondered how long he’d been awake. Given the way he looked at me in the dim light of the cabin, long enough to know I was thinking about my mother.

I turned my hand to let him take it in his, and a tightness clenched at my throat. For a few moments, I indulged in the thought that my whole universe was nothing more than Dane holding my hand.

That wasn’t true, though. Theo could turn and notice. I pulled my hand back and curled up on my seat to get some sleep.

Not a good time to get emotional, Essie.

Plenty of time to cry when I’m dead.

251

23

TRAVELING THROUGH THE

provinces of Windsong proved

bittersweet. I’d nearly forgotten the beauty of my home planet.

Maybe I hadn’t wanted to remember. After years of Thanda’s dim, dingy grays and bleak landscapes, the color and variety kept my eyes locked on the windows. Mountains, valleys, plains . . . Windsong had everything. We passed near the whistling canyons, though not close enough to hear the music the wind made through the stone formations.

Theo offered to detour and stop brieflly. I told him my business in the war zone was too important, and suggested he put the transport on autopilot so he could get some sleep.

Hours more came and went, until even machine code and animated logic puzzles couldn’t keep the deadening grip of boredom off my brain. Dane and I didn’t dare say anything important while we could be overheard, and small talk only went so far with a princess and two guards, one of whom was the clandestine prince of the other’s supposed mortal enemy.

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Then I noticed the view changing, even in the dark. The lights were dimmer here. More sparse.

My bones chilled with the phantom memory of Thanda and the mining settlements. The lights were the same. Cheap and barely suffi cient. Theo answered the question before I asked.

“We’re crossing into the outlands, Princess. Sir, if you would keep an extra eye on the tactical scanners. We’re steering well clear of the known Exile encampments, but I don’t want any surprises just the same.”

Exiles wouldn’t be a problem, but Theo didn’t know that, so we had to keep up the act. The silence in the transport over the last few hours of the journey was anything but boring. Dane resolutely watched his scanners and everything else he could see. I asked Theo for schematics of the transport so I could get familiar with its inner workings, in case we suffered damage in an attack that wouldn’t happen.

All an act, yet I still managed to get most of the schematics memorized. It was something to do. No real Exiles hid in the outlands waiting to ambush us. The only enemy was my father’s army of imposters. We weren’t in any real danger.

As the sun peeked up again over a range of mountains, I saw just how real it was for everyone else.

Weapons. Big ones, and lots of them.

I didn’t know much about weapons, not the way I knew about drones and computer codes. The palace had nothing more advanced than a blade, and Thanda’s weapon of choice was a solid fi st. The most I knew about guns was that I didn’t like Tobias pointing one at me. The weapons here were levels beyond that. Devices that looked cannonlike sat at regular intervals 253

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around the settlement alongside towers bristling with antenna arrays.

Our destination lay in a wide valley that must have once been farmland. A cluster of buildings was nestled along the bank of a river. Most were prefabricated, bare and functional, like the shacks on Thanda, but a few buildings stood out as pre-dating the “war.” A farmhouse complete with expansive porch and old-fashioned shutters on the windows sat at the center. A few shacks away, a massive barn dwarfed the smaller structures around it, its green paint peeling and faded.

A light on Theo’s console blinked and beeped twice. “That’s just the perimeter guard acknowledging that we’re friendly, Princess,” he explained.

He piloted us smoothly between the cannons and towers, approaching the buildings. I spotted men in faded uniforms going from one to another, some giving orders, others taking them. One waved us toward the barn, with the door already opening to allow the transport inside.

“Here we are, Princess. Fort Saddlewood. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to keep your wits while we’re here.” No, he didn’t, but I appreciated the sentiment.

I checked that I had the gear I wanted—mostly a scanner and a slate—and exited the transport. Three soldiers stood waiting and immediately bowed.

“Princess Snow, I’m Larsen, fort captain,” said the one in the center, a man old enough to have hair peppered with gray, but young enough to handle himself in a Thandan bar. “It’s an honor to receive your visit.”

Try to look regal, Essie.
“No, it’s my honor, Captain.” 254

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“The message from Command didn’t say much, Your Highness. Is there anything particular you want to see?”

“Only everything. The whole operation and anything you can tell me about it. I’m here to fi nd a way to make some real progress in this war, see if we can end it before our grandchil-dren are in your position.”

It sounded like a good line, at least in my head. The captain must have thought so, too, because he snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am—er, Your Highness. My apologies.”

“Ma’am is fi ne.”
Anything’s better than my not-so-“Highness.”
We began the tour with the captain’s command post, Dane and Theo keeping in step behind me. A wall-size screen displayed a map of the outlands, with certain areas glowing red.

Areas controlled by the pseudo-Exiles. Too many of them, and too large. Green icons indicated militia bases like Saddlewood, and smaller blue icons represented troop encampments.

One look and I knew what the next move should be from either side. It was just like a game of Taktik. I could see the pawns, see the strategies. It was still all a game to my father, but even knowing it was fake, a piece of the picture didn’t make sense. It was a piece too obvious for the militia to miss.

“Captain, what do you think the Exiles’ goal is? They push deeper into the outlands when they could put pressure on the provinces here and here.”

“I don’t claim to understand them. Maybe they want a strong foothold here before braving the tighter defenses at the border.

Or maybe they think the prisoners are being held somewhere out here. Though if they were, I can’t believe they wouldn’t have found them in eight years now.”

Finally!
“Prisoners?” I prompted.

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Larsen shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t avoid the question.

“Ah, didn’t realize you didn’t know, ma’am. When you were taken, the Exiles in the Royal City launched the fi rst strike. Most were captured.”

I nodded in what I hoped was a thoughtful way. Inside, I was ready to turn around and make the day-long journey back to the palace with the excuse I needed to ask about the prisoners. Dane had to feel the same way, far more than I did. We still needed to fi nish the tour, though. Hopefully we’d get more information, making the delay worthwhile.

We left the command post, and Larsen led the way past several shacks, mostly used for storage, toward the largest building there.

“We’re a little different from the other forts, as we receive many of the injured here,” he said. “Originally that was because we were back far enough from the front lines, though as you saw on the map, that’s not the case anymore. But our perimeter defenses have held, and we have some good medics. Transport-ing the injured out of the war zone is nearly impossible.” But we’d gotten into the war zone easily enough. How much harder could it be to get out? “Why is that?” I asked.

“Those bastard Exiles target medical transports in particular. Pardon my language, ma’am.”

Dane’s sharp intake of breath echoed in my ears. Hopefully the others took it as horror that anyone could be so cold rather than fury at my father.

We walked into the large building, which functioned as the infi rmary.

I wanted to turn and run, but Dane and Theo blocked me in.

Rows of cots ran the length of the building, every one of 256

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them occupied. Based on the noise coming down the stairway to our right, the second level had plenty of patients as well. The noises . . . soft moaning, an occasional cry of pain. And no wonder. From where I stood, I saw blood-soaked bandages, burnt fll esh, and wrapped stumps where limbs should have been. Some turned to look at us, but most were too consumed by their misery. The air choked me with a smell I’d never experienced, cheap antiseptic mingling with wounds that festered despite the medics’ best efforts. Open windows allowed a hint of a fresh breeze.

It didn’t help that much.

Hospitals like those in the Royal City had the tech and resources to treat all of these and more, freeing them of pain, repairing the damage quickly and effi ciently. But Father kept the hospitals out of reach. He didn’t think these soldiers were worth it. They were just the pawns.

Like Dane’s mother.
He’d said she died when he was born. No one died in childbirth anymore, not on Windsong. Not without some kind of willful neglect.