Three Dark Crowns (30 page)

B
ranches scrape at Katharine's face as she runs through the trees in the southern woods. Her heart pounds, and her knee throbs from when she fell against the stage. She falls again when her skirt twists in a bramble. With no torch, she has only the light of the moon as a guide, and there is not much of that deep in the trees.

“Pietyr!” she calls, weak and breathless. She did as she was told and ran straight from the Quickening to the five-sided tent and into the woods beyond.

“Pietyr!”

“Katharine!”

He steps out from behind a tree, holding a small lamp aloft. She stumbles to him, and he catches her against his chest.

“I do not know what happened,” she says. “It was so awful.”

The bear would have killed her. Split her open just like it had that poor priestess. It will be a long time before she can
forget the crazed look in its eyes, and the sharp, wild arc of its claws.

“I hoped it would not come true,” Pietyr says. “I hoped that Natalia was right. That she had it under control. I am so sorry, Kat.”

She rests her head on his shoulder. He was kind to meet her here, away from everyone, for a few moments of solace. His arms take the chill from her skin, and the strange, deep-earth smell of the Breccia Domain calms her as she breathes it in.

Pietyr rocks her back and forth. He steps with her slowly until it is almost like dancing, and their feet slide across the smooth surface of the rock at the sides of the crevasse.

“Perhaps I should have stayed with Natalia,” Katharine says. “She could be hurt.”

“Natalia can take care of herself,” says Pietyr. “She is not the one in danger. You did the right thing.”

“They will be coming for me soon. Looking. We do not have long.”

Pietyr kisses the top of her head. “I know,” he says regretfully. “The bloodthirsty temple.”

“What?”

“I was not supposed to love you, Kat.” He takes her face in his hands.

“But you do?”

“Yes,” he says, and kisses her. “I do.”

“I love you, too, Pietyr,” says Katharine.

Pietyr steps back. He holds her gently by the shoulders.

“Pietyr?” she asks.

“I am sorry,” he says, and then he throws her. Down, down, down into the bottomless pit of the Breccia Domain.

A
day and a half after the disaster of the Quickening, Innisfuil Valley is nearly empty. The naturalists and the elementals have gone. So have the giftless and those few with the war gift. Even most of the poisoners have returned to their homes, except for the Arrons and those families most loyal to them.

Many priestesses still remain, including High Priestess Luca, as they organize search parties and scour the cliffs for Katharine. But they have searched the entire valley. The shore and the forest on all sides. Poor Pietyr has searched nonstop since Katharine disappeared.

But they have found no body and no answers.

Natalia sits in her tent, alone. She has not searched since yesterday, and the longer the search goes on, the less she wants to find her. Today, the body would still be Katharine. But soon, it would bloat and then decay. Natalia does not know if she can
bear to find Katharine's little bones, held together by sinew and a rotted black dress.

She drops her head into her hands, too tired to stand. Certainly too tired to take down tents and return to Indrid Down. To face the council and pretend that there is anything left for her to do.

The tent flap opens, and High Priestess Luca walks inside in her white robe and black collar. Natalia straightens, but it cannot be news of Katharine. If it were, Luca would have sent someone to fetch her instead of coming by herself, with no escort.

“High Priestess,” says Natalia. “Please. Come in.”

Luca half turns and makes sure that the tent flap is closed. Then she raises her nose and sniffs.

“This tent, Natalia. It smells like dying dogs.”

Natalia purses her lips. The familiar hounds brought to her after the Quickening died messily. There was no time to assemble a tidy poison. She used what she had on hand, and they convulsed and vomited on the rugs and pillows.

Luca takes down the hood of her robes and unfastens her collar, showing off a wrinkled neck and fine, bright white hair.

“I must depart soon,” she says. “For Rolanth and Mirabella.”

“‘Must,'” Natalia says with bitterness.

“A small contingent of priestesses will remain here. They will search until the little queen is found.”

For a moment, the two women regard each other. Then Natalia gestures to the chair opposite her at the small table.

Luca snaps her fingers and has a pot of tea brought in. When they are settled, and alone again, she sighs and leans back wearily.

“One of the delegations has fled,” Luca says. “The dark one, with the red flower in his jacket. His family was superstitious. They said this generation was cursed.”

“This was not a terribly successful Beltane,” says Natalia, and Luca laughs, once.

“If only we had taken that brat's head and arms when we had the chance.”

“If only your Mirabella had let us.”

Luca adds cream and two lumps of sugar to her tea and sets a thin baked biscuit on her plate.

“There is no poison in it,” Luca says wryly of the tea. “Perhaps you can squeeze that snake of yours into your cup.”

Natalia smirks and then sips. “What can be done about Arsinoe?” Natalia asks.

“What about her?”

“She attacked the queens before the end of the Quickening. Before the Ascension Year had begun. It is a crime, is it not?”

“A violation by a day. It was a show of strength, whether we like it or not. The people will push back if we punish her publicly.”

“What good is the temple if it cannot enforce its own laws,” Natalia grumbles.

“Indeed,” says Luca. She takes a sip of tea, and eyes Natalia over the rim of her cup. “That lovely
Gave Noir
that you set,”
she says. “All that poison, fallen into the sand. I snuck a bit of it into one of my priestess's dinner. And oh!” Luca's face lights up briefly. “She lived! She did not even sicken. Unlike those poor dogs you dispatched. What did you give them, Natalia? Arsenic?”

Natalia drums her fingers against the table. The High Priestess raises an eyebrow.

“Do not whine about our weakness now,” says Luca. “When we are only what you have made of us. When it is you who have turned the people away.”

“If the people turn away from your preaching, then it is not our fault. We have never sought to impose council will on the temple.”

“No,” says Luca. “Only to silence our voice.” She studies Natalia quietly. They have been adversaries for many years but have spent little time alone together, and never when they were not battling over something.

“It is strange,” Luca says, “that you have turned away from the Goddess. When she is the one who creates the queens. Whose power on this island preserves our way of life. I know,” she says when Natalia rolls her eyes. “You think it is you. The strength of your gift that keeps us safe. But who do you think gave that to you? She is the source of this thing you revere, yet you do not revere her. In your pride, you forget that she has given and that she is the one who may take it away.”

L
ooking out the window of the bouncing coach, the streets of Rolanth are strangely quiet. The city expected Mirabella to return in triumph. Now that she has not, there is an air of loss. Shops in the central district have pulled down most of the Beltane decorations, though a few modest ribbons and wreaths remain. She was not exactly beaten, after all. Her Quickening performance was nearly a success.

Nearly. But thanks to Arsinoe, she had not even gotten to finish.

It will not be long until they are safely back at Westwood House. Though it will not be the same as it once was. Now that Katharine is missing and presumed dead, the temple will take a defensive position until it is determined what happened. Rho will have a small army near Mirabella night and day. Already armed priestesses surround the coach, as well as Sara and Uncle Miles's coach ahead of them.

Mirabella doubts that Arsinoe will launch another attack so soon. But the temple will be ready for anything.

“I froze when that bear charged,” Mirabella whispers, and Bree and Elizabeth raise their heads from where they rest against the windows. “At first I thought it was a mistake. But it came right for me.”

Her friends look down sadly. They will not tell her that Arsinoe did not mean it. And she does not want them to. She has had days to relive that terror, and for the hurt in her heart to turn to anger. Perhaps Arsinoe also murdered Katharine. Perhaps she had some other creature waiting for her when she ran away into the woods.

Sweet little Katharine. Who she and Arsinoe used to swear to protect.

“Elizabeth,” Mirabella says. “You are a naturalist. Could you have done what Arsinoe did with that bear?”

Elizabeth shakes her head. “Never. Not with fifty of me. She is . . . stronger than any naturalist I have ever seen.”

“Or even heard of,” Bree says with wide eyes. “Mira, what will we do? If it were not for that boy, Joseph, you would be dead.”

Mirabella told them, afterward, who Joseph was and what happened between them. It came out in a rush, in her tent, when she was heartbroken in so many ways. Betrayed by Arsinoe and dragged away from Joseph, possibly forever.

“Dear Joseph,” Elizabeth says. “His love for you may save you again. If he is truly Arsinoe's good friend, perhaps he will
stop her. Perhaps he will help us.”

“I will not ask him to take sides,” Mirabella says.

“But someone will. Arsinoe. Or Luca. I don't think that someone as strong as Arsinoe will hesitate to use her advantages.”

“That is good,” Mirabella says. “I do not want her to hesitate. I want her to push me and push me until I hate her.”

She looks back out the window, to escape the knowing sadness in Bree's and Elizabeth's eyes. They knew it would come to this. Everyone knew, except for Mirabella. But she is through being sentimental. Seeing that bear, and Arsinoe's cold face behind that mask, showed her the truth.

The sisters she loved at the Black Cottage are gone. Arsinoe saw her chance, and she took it. So next time, Mirabella will take hers as well.