A Wicked Thing (7 page)

He knelt on the ground in front of the king. “It is wonderful to be here again, Your Majesty,” he said. “I trust you are well?”

“Oh, none of that ceremony,” the king said, waving Finnegan up with a sweep of his hand. “We're all old friends here.” But if he did not want any ceremony—if he did not want Finnegan to kneel before him—why had he called them to court at all? He wanted Finnegan to kneel, Aurora realized. He wanted to show that he was the one with the power to toss propriety away.

Finnegan, however, did not seem concerned. His black hair tumbled across his eyebrows as he stood. He brushed it out of the way. “I hear that Alyssinia has had quite some good fortune.”

“Indeed it has!” the king said. “Indeed it has, my lad. I know you were hoping for a similar blessing, but—well, I guess Rodric
is just more of a man, eh?” He gave a booming laugh, as though he was teasing, as though it was all in good fun. Finnegan smiled in a good-natured sort of way, but Aurora noticed that his eyes had a hard glint to them.

“I am afraid we were not expecting you,” the queen said. “So soon after the happy event occurred. The wedding is not for three weeks yet. You find us quite unprepared.”

“I apologize, my dear Iris,” Finnegan said. “I was hoping to arrive in time for the awakening ceremony, but we were delayed by rough seas. Once I heard of Rodric's success, I knew I could not wait until the wedding to give my congratulations and meet the famed princess for myself.”

“Of course,” the king said.

“We are blessed to have her,” the queen said.

Finnegan fixed Aurora with an intense look. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said. He walked toward her, took her hand, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You are even more beautiful than they say.”

Aurora bobbed into a curtsy, her head bowed. Finnegan's smile grew.

“So courteous too. What a delight.” She got the strange feeling that he was mocking her. His eyes roved over her, and she fought the urge to step away.

The queen also seemed to have noticed Finnegan's gaze. “It is truly lovely to see you again, Finnegan,” she said, “and I hope we will dine together soon. I trust the servants will make you
comfortable until then? You must want to rest, after your journey.” It was spoken like a dismissal, but Finnegan continued to smile.

“I always find that travel energizes me, especially when a long-lost princess is waiting at the end of it. I was rather hoping I could dine with you and the princess today. What better time to make up for one hundred lost years?”

The queen inclined her head. “I appreciate your enthusiasm,” she said, “as does the princess, I am sure. But she is still rather overwhelmed after her own journey, and we are run off our feet with plans for the engagement ceremony in a few days. We so wanted to be here to greet you, but we cannot linger. You understand.”

“Oh, yes,” Finnegan said. He grinned at Aurora. “I understand perfectly.”

The queen stood and offered Finnegan a slight inclination of her head. Aurora sank into another curtsy, executing the perfect sweep of her skirts. Finnegan's eyes followed the movement closely.

“Insufferable man,” Iris said as she marched Aurora away from the room. “Stay away from him as much as you can, Aurora. He has expressed too much interest in you already.”

“Stay away from him? Why?”

“That prince cannot be trusted.”

“He's your guest,” Aurora said as Iris steered her into another corridor. “If he is untrustworthy, why is he here?”

“Do you think we can trust half of the people here at court? Of course we cannot. And we need Finnegan appeased. He and his kingdom have too much power by far. But you must remember, for all he says, he has no interest in you. Only in what he can gain from you.”

“Like you, you mean?” Aurora said.

The queen stopped. “No,” she said. “We are trying to keep you safe. Keep the kingdom safe. So if you want to leave your rooms again, I suggest you listen to what I have said, and keep your impertinence to yourself.”

Aurora refused to look away. She was going to have to fight to build her place, but not here, not where the queen could see. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said.

SHE WENT TO THE DANCING UNICORN AGAIN THAT
night, her heart pounding in time with her footsteps.

The inn was full of people laughing and dancing. One large group of girls about Aurora's age held hands and danced together near the stage. A couple of young men lingered near their circle, but they could not get a glance from the girls. The inn's more sedate patrons sat farther away, gathered around tables and packs of cards, their conversations as loud as the music.

Tristan was leaning over the end of the bar, chatting to a group of older women. One of them raised a hand and slapped him lightly on the cheek, a coyly pleased “oh stop” kind of
gesture, and Tristan reeled back as though he had been slain, grinning all the while. Trudy was cleaning mugs, and Aurora sank onto a barstool, swiveling to face the stage. Nettle had a band behind her, beating out an infectious rhythm. Aurora curled her toes around the slats of the barstool and closed her eyes.

“So,” Tristan said, sauntering across to her behind the bar, “you're back.”

“I said I would be.”

“A girl who keeps her word,” Tristan said. “I like that.”

She smiled.

“You know,” Tristan said as he wiped down the counter with a cloth, “it is customary on the second visit for new patrons to tell their story. Who they are. Where they're from.”

She wrapped her toes tighter around the slat, pressing into the wood. “I'm not very interesting,” she said. “I wouldn't want to put you to sleep when you're supposed to be working.”

“Liar,” he said, and he smiled again, like they were the best of friends. “Everyone's got a story. I see you sitting here, crazy blonde hair, covered in dust, and I think, wow, what a strange thing she is. She must have secrets worth discovering.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you,” Aurora said, “but I've been told never to tell secrets to strangers. Maybe if you told me more about yourself, I'd be able to share.”

“You already know who I am,” he said. “Tristan, remember? But perhaps I can dig up some other stuff. If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Then let's see.” He continued to clean, head tilted as though deep in thought. “First thing you should know about me is that I was born an orphan. Sounds impossible, I know, but it's true. I spent my early life alone, scrounging food from the streets of Palir, until a group of traveling acrobats took me under their metaphorical wing.”

“Traveling acrobats?” She rested a hand on his arm, mouth open in feigned shock. “Not the famous acrobats of Palir?”

“The very same. Have you ever seen them, Mouse? They can spin twenty times in the air and land on their noses, all while singing folk songs of yore. A more impressive sight you'll never see. I, of course, became their star performer.”

“Of course,” she said. “Why lie about being an acrobat if you can't be the best?”

“Exactly,” he said. “People would travel for hundreds of miles to see my signature move.”

“Which was?”

“It can't be described with words, Mouse.”

Aurora smiled. “Then I'd love to see it.”

“Better not. Nell wouldn't be too happy if I kicked one of her customers in the head, and I'm all out of practice.”

“How surprising,” Aurora said. “Why did you stop?”

“I never intended to. But one day, when we were traveling to a distant land to perform, our ship was set upon by pirates.”

“And they didn't appreciate your performance?”

“Strangely, no. They press-ganged us into service, and no number of backflips could change their minds. Luckily, I got on pretty well with them, once the ice was broken. I've got natural talent for more than just acrobatics, so it wasn't hard to move up through the ranks. It wasn't long before I was captain of the ship.”

“Lead acrobat and captain of a pirate ship,” Aurora said. “That's a lot of adventure in . . . seventeen years?”

“Nineteen,” he said, “although you're right. I've spent the last two years here. Life on the high seas got tiring after a while. I blame the seasickness. So I decided to come to the capital and make an honest living for myself.” His elbows landed on the bar with a thud. “So. Think you can beat that?”

“Of course I can. You see, my secrets are true.” Aurora leaned forward, resting her own elbows inches in front of his. “I was born a princess,” she began, “in a far-off land—”

“At least try to make it plausible.”

“Like your pirate tale?”

“Exactly.”

“I was born a princess,” she said again, “but I was cursed by an evil warlock at birth. I must always wander the land, he said, never resting, never finding comfort, until—”

“Let me guess. You find true love?”

“Who's telling this story?”

“Well, me, by the looks of it,” Tristan said, but she glared at him, and he lowered his head with an unrepentant grin. “Fine,” he said. “Continue, please.”

“Until,” Aurora went on, her thoughts scrambling over every fairy tale she had ever read, “I find the answer to his impossible riddle.”

“Which is?”

“I don't know. He never told me. That's why it's impossible.”

“Perhaps,” Tristan said, tilting forward so that his forearm brushed hers, “the lack of a riddle is the riddle itself. How do you solve a riddle that has not been asked?”

Trudy walked up to them, a tray in her hand. “You don't have to talk to him, you know,” she said to Aurora. “I never do.”

“Trudy finds my charm so completely overwhelming,” Tristan said.

“I find your annoyingness so completely overwhelming. You've got things to do.”

“Yes, Prudence.”

“I'm serious, Tristan. A little help at some point would be nice.”

“I'll help,” he said. “I promise. Just—not right now. Okay?” Trudy glared at him, but then her expression softened.

“Soon,” she said. “Or I'll leave all the cleanup to you.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She shook her head and walked away.

“So,” Tristan said, after she had gone. “Did you ever find the answer to the riddle?”

“Not yet.”

“I wouldn't worry about it,” he said. “Fairy tales seem full of rubbish to me. Better off being a pirate.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

They fell silent, and the clear, quavering notes of Nettle's song wrapped around them like smoke. Aurora closed her eyes again, letting the sounds seep into her skin, words of love and hope and a joy so close you could almost taste it.

“She's really something, isn't she?”

Aurora opened her eyes. “It makes me sad.”

“It's a happy song!”

“I know,” she said. “It makes me sad all the same.” She ran her fingers through her hair, but Tristan grabbed her hand before she had more than a second to muse.

“Well, we'll have to put an end to that,” he said. “Trudy, mead please!”

“You work here too, you know,” Trudy said, but she brought over two mugs of mead anyway. Tristan pressed one into Aurora's free hand and then raised the other in a toast. They clinked mugs and drank deep. Warmth settled in her belly, and she smiled. Even with all the jokes and lies, she felt part of something here, like she actually belonged.

“You know,” she said slowly, “I haven't seen much of the city. I could use a guide.”

“A guide?” he said. “And where would you find someone like that around here?”

“Well,” she said. “I was hoping maybe you would show me. Sometime. If you don't mind.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. He dropped her hand and
hurried around the end of the bar. “Let's go.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.”

She glanced over at the far side of the room, where Nell, the inn's owner, was chatting to customers. “Don't you have to work?” Now that she had what she wanted, she felt a little jolt of fear. She shouldn't go out alone with this boy, this stranger she knew nothing about. But a guide, a real guide, to show her the city as he saw it, show her the things that a royal escort would never show her . . . she could not say no to that. She could not say no to the way her heart was beating faster, the thrill of doing something that was so certainly forbidden.

“They won't miss me,” he said.

“But Trudy—”

“She's joking,” Tristan said. “And besides. I'd much rather spend time with you.” He squeezed her hand, standing impossibly close. “Come on, Mouse. Don't you want a little adventure?”

Five minutes later, they were walking out of the pub, cloaks pulled tight around them.

“So,” she whispered. “Where first?”

“I know just the place. Follow me.”

He led her along the cobbles. A few people shouted greetings and comments at him as they passed, and he laughed and shouted back.

“Who's the girl?” one of them asked, as they turned onto another street.

“She's new in town,” Tristan said. “I'm just showing her around.”

“I'm sure you are, Tristan,” the man said, and Tristan waved at him before striding on. He turned down a narrow path, and soon they were hurrying away from the crowds. The streets tumbled over one another, forming a crisscrossing, twisting, looping labyrinth that made Aurora's head spin. Gradually, the cobblestones faded away to beaten earth. Voices leaked through the gaps in the walls, but soon there were no lights at all, not even the glow of a candle through an open window, nothing to show the way except the gleam of the moon. Aurora reached out and clutched the back of Tristan's cloak, bunching the rough cloth between her fingers. “Don't worry, little Mouse. I won't lose you.”

“Don't you dare.”

His hand found hers. “Come on,” he said. “We're nearly there.”

The city walls loomed ahead. Aurora stared at them, watching the lights that flickered above the stone. She pulled her head back farther, trying to see the sky beyond, and almost tripped over a girl who was huddled against one of the buildings. Aurora could see the hollow shadows of her face in the moonlight. The girl looked up at Aurora reproachfully, but she did not even blink as Aurora rambled her apologies.

“Who was that?” Aurora asked as they moved away. “Why was she sitting out here in the dark?”

“Oh, nobody,” Tristan said. “They built the city walls decades ago to keep the riffraff out, but, much to the king's surprise, they keep existing! So they sweep them out to the north edge here. Don't want them dirtying up the doorsteps of the good part of the city, now, do they?”

“Why do they come here?” Aurora asked. “If they're mistreated, then why—”

Tristan scowled, and when he spoke, he sounded almost angry. “Where else are they supposed to go? People think it's safer to live near the king. Invading armies don't tend to burn your house if you live here. Of course, rioters can do the job just as well, and these people don't exactly have houses to destroy. But even picking off the streets, there might well be more food here than outside the walls.”

Aurora glanced back. The girl was already out of sight, but as they continued through the streets, she saw more faces, more shapes in the dark. One alley held so many people that they formed a single mass in the shadows. Aurora could only tell where one person ended and the next began by the way they shifted as they spoke.

“Someone should do something about this,” she said. “Help them.”

“But no one will.” Tristan shrugged, but there was an edge to his voice. “Which part of the city did you say you live in now, Mouse?”

“Not near here.”

“Shame,” Tristan said. “It's such a lovely place.”

They continued to move closer to the walls, weaving around wooden buildings that slumped together as though unable to stand up unaided. “Where exactly are we going?” Aurora asked as they turned into another raggedy alleyway.

“There's a lot to hate about this place,” Tristan said. “So, before it gets to you, I thought I'd show you why it's worth staying.” He stopped in front of a low, crooked house, on a street so dark that she could barely make out the shape of him beside her. The quiet hum of voices filled the air. “Now this,” he said, “is the hard part. You're not afraid of heights, are you?”

She thought of her tower, of leaning out of the window, high above the world. “No,” she said.

“Good. Watch this.” With a scrape and a spring, he was gone, vaulting up into the air with the grace of a cat. A moment later, his face peered over the edge of the roof.

“Reach up and jump,” he said.

She raised her hands and groped the air above her. The edge of the roof was barely in reach, slightly sharp against the inside of her knuckles. She strained onto her tiptoes, and her fingers scratched across the roof tiles, digging into one of the seams. She jumped. Her feet scraped the wall, struggling for a grip on the stone, and her arms ached from the effort. One hand slipped, and Tristan gripped it at the wrist, pulling her up and over.

“Okay?”

Aurora laughed. Adrenaline chased through her. “I'm on the
roof,” she said. She was only a few feet off the ground, but she felt tall, impossible, powerful.

“I know,” Tristan said. She could hear the amusement in his voice. “This way.” They scrambled over the tiles, climbing higher and higher still. The buildings formed a giant's staircase, each roof in reach with a jump, a grab, and a jab of fear. Tristan crouched as he walked, slow and steady, each step precise. Aurora stuck close behind him, following his movements, feeling her way with the soles of her feet.

“Here should do it,” he said. They stood on a small square roof, sloping down from a point in the center. “You can get around half the city this way, but this is the best spot. And I'd hate to take you the dangerous way. Little mouse like you might fall to her death.”