Promising Hope (26 page)

“Because I don’t personally know everyone here, I
would rather not lay out our exact plans,” Jeshro said.

“How can you think any of us are working for them?”
Harlan asked. “What do you take us for?”

“As I said, I know nothing about any of you,” Jeshro
said. “I’ve met too many magic-folk helping the Protectors for
various reason—they were threatened, they were tempted by rewards,
they thought it would keep them safe.” He shrugged and spread his
hands. “It is nothing personal, Harlan. Merely a precaution to keep
us all safe.”

“Simply having this meeting with all of you could
kill us,” Sierra added.

“But if we don’t know what we’re signing up for…” Ned
trailed off with a shrug.

“Know this,” Jeshro said. “We are set on pursuing
diplomatic methods first. If we can attain what we want through
laws, that’s what we prefer. With more allies, we are closer to
convincing the king. You can vouch against the Protector’s slander
of us.”

“You think you can turn the laws in your favor
again?” Ned asked, stroking his beard.

“I am hopeful, but I realize this is a slim chance.
For the sake of my people, however, I must try. I have lost many
loved ones in this struggle.” Jeshro folded his hands in front of
him. “But the Protectors have power in Renaul, in the castle. The
king supports them, but I have personally seen his reluctance to
keep doing so. If diplomacy weren’t possible… if we strip them of
their political power, they will be stripped of their means to
persecute us.”

With Grace and Sashe’s added help, Sierra realized it
was actually possible.

“If you want to align your clans with us, I think we
should keep it private,” Jeshro said. “Again, to protect everyone
involved.”

“We trust each other,” Billa said.

“Please indulge me,” Jeshro said. “You can tell me
personally.”

“Will the Zinna know?” Agar asked. He’d hardly spoken
this whole time; he was an older man with a white beard.

“Yes, I will tell her,” Jeshro said. “Angela’s
abilities are priceless at a time like this.”

Agar grunted. “I won’t help if she knows.”

Jeshro’s shoulders sagged. “Are there any others who
feel the same way?”

The other Cosas glanced at each other. To Sierra’s
surprise, no one spoke up.

Jeshro stood. “We’ll speak to each of you privately.
If you are willing to help, I’m willing to be flexible about who I
tell.” He beckoned Sierra with his hand.

She stared at him for a moment before realizing he
wanted her to speak with the leaders, as well. Her face warmed as
she stood and walked to the edge of the camp with him. He gave her
more and more responsibility as time went on.

One by one, the Cosa leaders came over to Jeshro and
Sierra. Harlan was the only one who decided not to help. He was
short with them, but Sierra saw him hesitate before leaving.

Agar said he would help only if they told Angela he
wasn’t helping. Jeshro agreed to it, but Sierra wasn’t sure whether
he was lying or not. Jeshro asked the other five leaders if it was
okay if Angela contacted them. They were reluctant, but Sierra
talked them into it. It was one of the only ways they could be sure
to communicate with them.

They spoke little of tactics. For now, Jeshro asked
them to spread the word that Sierra and Lady Grace had broken the
curse and the Avialies planned to fight for their rights in any way
they could—peacefully at first, violently if forced. He wanted the
Cosa clans to recognize the Protectors’ oppressive nature and want
to help the shape changers.

“It’s very important that they know they are fighting
for innocent people, fighting against evil,” he told Dalya. “We
need to embolden the magical families. There are more of us than
Protectors, but we have feared them because of their political
power.”

As they got ready to leave, Sierra marveled at their
success. If they could get all the magical families’ support, if
they could reach the king and bring him to their side… for the
first time since breaking the curse with Grace, Sierra actually
felt hope. She’d been determined to fight the Protectors out of
stubborn hatred and a need for justice, but now she felt like they
could actually win this war.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

When Grace and Sashe returned to the castle, the sun
was low in the sky. Grace expected to see Dar when they left their
horses at the stables, but he wasn’t around. Her shoulders sagged
in disappointment. She glanced at Sashe, who motioned to her to
follow her inside.

“Come to my quarters,” Sashe said. “We could take a
private dinner if neither of us are requested at the dining
hall.”

Grace smiled. That sounded appealing. She didn’t want
to see Gregorio if she didn’t have to. Sashe led her to the east
wing of the castle, where the royals stayed: William, his parents,
and apparently, Sashe. Grace was in the west wing with Tisha and
Kilar, though she didn’t see them often.

Grace had never been in Sashe’s quarters before.
Sashe unlocked the door with a key she pulled from her cloak and
showed her into a sitting room. The carpet was deep purple with
gold designs, and the walls were lined with the same colors. Lavish
couches lined the walls, a piano sat in the far corner, and a desk
covered with books and parchment stood next to the window.

“This is beautiful,” Grace said.

Sashe pulled a bell next to the door and smiled.
“Thank you.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About a year and a half now,” Sashe said, stripping
off her traveling cloak. A coat hanger stood by the door, and she
motioned for Grace to hang hers up.

After doing so, Grace glanced around. “Do you have a
mirror?”

Sashe opened the door next to the piano. “In
here.”

Grace followed Sashe into a sleeping room. The large
canopy bed was similar to Grace’s, but Sashe’s covers were ruby
red. Tapestries of landscapes hung on two of the walls, and the
curtains of the large window were pulled back to show the forest
behind the castle.

Grace walked to the vanity, where a collection of
make-ups and oils were gathered, and looked at herself in the oval
mirror. No evidence of the make-up that made her look like an old
woman lingered on her face. Callie had made her look like herself
again, perhaps even a bit younger. She hadn’t even asked about the
fading marks on her neck. They were almost gone, only a faint
yellow. She couldn’t even see them now with Callie’s work.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Sashe asked, coming to stand
next to Grace. Grace smiled and nodded.

A knock sounded at the door, and Grace looked up.
Marisa stood at the door, her hands folded in front of her.

“Lady Sashe, Lady Grace,” she curtsied. “Lady Grace,
his Highness Prince William has arranged a private dinner in his
chambers for the two of you.”

Grace’s stomach twisted. In his chambers? She
swallowed.

Sashe frowned. “We’ll have to have dinner another
time.” She shrugged. “At least you don’t have to eat with
Gregorio.”

Grace smiled for a moment, then it faded quickly. But
would they be alone? She stepped away from the vanity, taking a
shaky breath.

Sashe touched her arm and dropped her voice. “You
look sick. Perhaps you should tell the prince that you’re ill.”

“No.” She knew that’d only anger him. “I’ll be
fine.”

Sashe squeezed her arm before Grace pulled away.
Marisa escorted her to William’s chambers since Grace had never
been there. She stopped at a set of golden doors and knocked.

A moment later, the doors opened and a male servant
in pristine clothes greeted them. “Lady Grace,” he said with a
bow.

She inclined her head. It never failed to amaze her
how many servants the castle had. Many of them popped in and out,
and she never saw them again. The male servant motioned for her to
step inside, then he marched to a door next to the window and
disappeared through it, leaving her alone.

The sitting room that greeted her was twice the size
of Sashe’s, though just as lavishly decorated. Instead of purple
and gold, the room was dark blue and gold. There was no desk; he
probably had a separate study. Instead, a table was set up in the
middle with a dinner already laid out. The smell of the meat,
bread, and vegetables, usually appetizing, was enough to make Grace
wrinkle her nose. The room was dimly lit, only candles illuminating
it. Two candles rested on the table; others were scattered around
the room.

She bit the inside of her lip. She couldn’t let him
make her so worried. Things would be fine. And yet, even as she
told herself that, she wondered what he wanted. Why he’d chosen
just a few candles. Why only two chairs sat around the table.

She was just about to sit when the servant announced
William’s entry from the door next to the window. William walked
in, his hands folded behind him. He nodded to the male servant, who
left the room through the door Grace had entered.

She forced her hands to remain still in front of her
as she curtsied. “Your Highness.”

“Please, sit,” William said, motioning to the table.
He pulled a chair out for her, and she thanked him as she sat. He
sat across from her, the silence thick. “Did you have a pleasant
time in town with Sashe?”

“Yes, I did. It was nice getting some fresh air.”

“Your family came by just after you left,” he
said.

“Oh, no,” Grace said, “how are they?” She had faint
memories of her mother by her bedside in her sickness the last few
days. Possibly even her father and Kyler, as well.

“Worried about you. Your mother’s visited every day,
you know.”

Grace smiled, her shoulders relaxing just the
slightest at the thought of her mother taking care of her when she
was sick like when she was little.

“They waited a few hours, but your father had
training and your mother…” He shrugged, smiling. “Some social
event.” He put his napkin over his lap. How could he be so casual?
“You returned later than we expected.”

“I suppose we lost track of time.”

“They said they’ll return tomorrow,” he said.

She wished they’d stayed. Then she’d be eating dinner
with them, not William.

William poured them both wine. Grace watched the rich
liquid as it poured out of the pitcher. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it
doesn’t have anything in it.”

She half-smiled. Sashe had bought a Mahri potion for
her today, something that would make her throw up certain potions
that might change her mental state: love potions and the like.

He raised his glass. “To new beginnings.”

She clinked her glass to his and waited just a moment
for him to drink first. The warm wine washed down her throat, and
she took a longer drink than necessary. Perhaps it would calm
her.

He began eating, and she picked up her fork. She
could hear her mother’s voice in her head:
When eating with
royals, you must always wait for them to eat first.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. She put more
wine into her mouth than food. Memories of her night with Dar in
Belisha rose unbidden: their silent, awkward dinner; reading to
each other; the kisses and touches they’d exchanged. Though so much
had seemed uncertain, she’d completely let go of her reservations
once they began kissing and she’d just let herself enjoy being with
him.

She glanced at the door William had come out of,
wondering if his bed was past it. She fiddled with her fork as her
chest tightened. Each second that passed heightened her anxiety,
and she just wanted to flee from the room. What did he expect from
her tonight?

He finally broke the silence. “You aren’t very happy
about Gregorio’s presence here.”

“Of course not,” she said quietly. “He’s…” She
stopped herself before she said ‘evil.’ “He’s used his magic for
evil.”

William paused. “You call it evil, Tisha calls it
good.”

“Yet one of us is right and one of us is wrong.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “You know one of the first
times I noticed you was at the charity dinner for the blizzard in
Kleisade. You were speaking to that man who came to tell us about
his village, and I saw you try to give him money.”

Grace’s face heated up , and she stared at her food.
She knew what he was talking about. Dar had noticed it, too; he
later told her in a letter.

“I thought there was something different about you
from the other nobles,” William said. “You were caring, but you
weren’t spineless. You had a sense of right and wrong when most
girls my parents were pushing me towards had a sense of money,
clothes, and gossip.”

She looked up at him. “Has your opinion of me
changed?”

William laughed. “It changes every day.”

She expected him to go on, but he took a bite of his
meat instead. “What is it today?” she asked.

After swallowing and taking a drink of wine, he
leaned back in his seat. “I think you’re stupid for still wanting
to help the Avialies. I think you’re stupid for being in love with
one of them. That sense of right and wrong I thought was endearing
is just dogmatic now. Things aren’t black and white, and I think
it’s stupid for you to think do.” He took another drink of time.
“So, mainly I think you’re an idiot.”

Her face was warm with anger. Or maybe that was the
wine. She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued.

“But I know I’m underestimating you. An idiot
wouldn’t have survived weeks running from Tisha’s best men or
gotten through the Mumbar Jungle. You’ve made me look like the
idiot more than once, and I know it’s not easy to do that.” He
checked the pitcher of wine and smirked when he saw it was gone. He
stood and walked past Grace to the table along the wall where more
wine sat.

She unclenched her hands from her silverware, trying
to predict where this was going. Everything was slightly fuzzy. She
shouldn’t have drank so much, especially not on an empty
stomach.