A Throne for Sisters

“Me too,” Kate promised. “Wherever you are, wherever you go, I’ll come if you need me. I’ll storm the palace if I have to.”

She probably would, and just the thought of that made Sophia smile.

“In the meantime, take this,” Sophia said, pressing most of the coins she’d gotten for the dress into her sister’s hand. “And Kate? Maybe try to spend more time in libraries than getting beaten?”

She saw her sister nod.

“Maybe I will,” Kate said. “Maybe I will.”

***

Kate made her way back through the city, keeping her usual watch for anyone who might want to harm her. The fight down at the training grounds had taught her that there was always someone who would try to hurt her. Wherever she went, someone would want to prove that they were stronger, or that she was worthless.

She’d almost asked Sophia to help get her out of everything she was caught up in, almost asked her big sister to pluck her out of danger like some helpless child. If she hadn’t been able to see how precarious things were for Sophia too, Kate might even have done it.

Or maybe not. Not before she’d learned to fight. Not before she’d had her revenge. Her sister had been able to give her a clue of how to do that, at least.

She hadn’t been to the penny library since the day she and Sophia had run from the House of the Unclaimed. Even now, approaching the old structure felt like a stupid move, because what if someone was watching, waiting for her to do it? Kate could only trust that even the masked nuns wouldn’t be that vindictive. They had more girls than just her to torment, after all.

She crept inside, and sure enough, Geoffrey was there on the outer desk, casting what he probably thought was a stern eye over those who tried to enter. When Kate approached, she could see his surprise.

“Kate, they didn’t catch you. I… I’m glad. And I’m sorry that I didn’t dare to hide you.”

Kate didn’t tell him that she forgave him. She wasn’t in the habit of forgiving people. Even so, she waved it away, taking out a penny from the money Sophia had just given her.

“I want to use the library. Are you going to call for the watch while I do it?”

“No, of course not. And you don’t need to pay. I owe you that much, at least.”

He owed more than that, but for now, Kate was prepared to ignore it. There were things that she needed to know, and Geoffrey always had a good idea of where to find things in the chaotic organization of the penny library.

“Where can I find books on fighting, Geoffrey?” Kate asked. “Are there books on it?”

Geoffrey spread his hands. “There are. We have tales of some of the great warriors of the past, and manuals on the modern warfare with pikes and muskets. There are even a couple of books written by the sword masters of the continent.”

Kate started with those, because they seemed the most promising, yet in some ways, they were the most disappointing books she had read. One contained string after string of illustrations, but they had no words to accompany them, and seemed to be in an entirely random order. Another was written in one of the languages from across the Knife-Water, and even without knowing the words, Kate could see that it was more about showing how many things the writer knew than about teaching them. It was a way to proclaim his skills, or perhaps to secure a post as a fencing master, not something designed to learn from.

She started to read the books that focused on the tales of the great warriors of the past instead: Renaud of Bevan, the islander McIlty. Kate could see from the start that they were just collections of folk tales, and even the parts that talked about how they had achieved their great strength seemed like nothing Kate could hope to do. Carrying a calf around on her shoulders every day until it was full grown? Wrestling every man she met until all kept clear of her? They sounded impossible.

The next book didn’t seem much better. It was a slim, strange volume, which seemed to be half sword manual, half fantastical account of the life of a swordsman named Argent. It had seemed promising at first, because his work claimed that he came from Ashton, but there were fragments that seemed like pure fiction. There was even a section claiming that he had started life as a skillful but weak swordsman, but had gained strength by going to a woodland glade south of the city and cheating the spirits he found at a fountain there. It came complete with a map, claiming to show the spot he’d gone to and pointing to signs that led there: a way marker, a set of stone steps, and more. Kate sighed and put the book down harder than she probably should have.

“Careful, Kate,” Geoffrey warned her. “You know better than to damage books others might want to read.”

“I can’t see anyone wanting to read this,” Kate shot back. “Swordsmen who get their strength from magic fountains? Unbeatable blade masters who appear out of nowhere? It’s nonsense.”

She saw Geoffrey glance down at the book. “That’s Argent’s story, isn’t it? Yes… yes, you’re right… you should ignore it.”

I don’t want her to end up like he did. It’s better if she thinks it’s a fable.

“Geoffrey,” Kate said, “what aren’t you telling me? This Argent was a real person.”

“No, I just told you…”

Real, and dangerous.

“Geoffrey,” Kate said in a warning tone. “You wouldn’t help me when I needed you. You owe me. Tell me the truth.”

Geoffrey seemed to wilt, looking down.

“Argent was a swordsman when I was young,” he said. “He wasn’t very good. Then he went away from the city. Not for long. Certainly not for long enough to be as good as he was when he came back. He defeated d’Aquisto and Newman one after the other in practice bouts! When people asked him how he did it, he talked about a fountain south of the city, and that’s all he would ever say about it.”

“You’re saying it’s real?” Kate asked. “You’re saying that I could – ”

“No, Kate,” the librarian insisted. “You couldn’t. Because you know what happened to Argent? He disappeared, right at the height of his talents. He fought everyone there was to fight, he wrote his book, and then he vanished. There are those who say that the Masked Goddess’s priests took him, but there are others… others who say that it was someone, something, else.”

Kate could feel the fear coming off Geoffrey then. He was serious about this, but that seriousness didn’t make her share his fear. Instead, it excited her, because it meant that it was real. This fountain might exist.

“Promise me, Kate,” he said. “Promise me that you won’t go to look for this. It’s dangerous.”

“I promise,” Kate said, raising her hand as if to swear an oath. At the same time, she found herself thinking about the map she’d seen in the book, trying to remember the details of it.

It seemed to be enough for Geoffrey. Kate heard him breathe a sigh of relief and he returned to his books while Kate contemplated her next move.

It was probably as well right then that she was the one who could read the librarian’s mind, and not the other way around. It meant he couldn’t see what Kate really intended.

It meant he couldn’t see the lie.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sophia returned to the palace, slipping in as quietly as possible, but unable to avoid the glances of some of the people there. She saw servants hurrying off at the sight of her, and wondered who they were rushing to tell. She saw Angelica looking down from a balcony, with an expression like thunder.

Something was happening, and people were moving too fast for Sophia to lock onto any one of them to find out what. She had vague impressions of violence and tension, of men preparing for conflict, yet why would Angelica be upset about that? It made no sense.

For a moment, the uncertainty of it all was almost enough to make Sophia turn around and head back into the city, because something had to be wrong, and right then, the only thing that Sophia could think of was that they might have found out about her. If they knew, she needed to run and run now.

If that were the case, though, wouldn’t Angelica look triumphant? Why wouldn’t she be there to gloat as she saw Sophia brought low? That thought was enough to make Sophia keep going, into the palace, looking for answers. Looking for Sebastian.

She didn’t have to look far to find him. He was waiting for her at the entrance to his rooms, looking surprisingly soldierly in a royal blue surcoat, a backsword hanging at his hip. He extended a gloved hand towards Sophia, and she took it.

“Sebastian? Is something happening?”

Sebastian nodded. “Lots of things. For a start, I have a day planned for us.”

He smiled as he said it, not saying more. In his thoughts, Sophia caught a jumble of things. There was… a boat?

There was indeed a boat. Sebastian walked with Sophia down to a small tributary of the river that ran through the city, surrounded by the palace grounds, with kingfishers flitting down into one of the rare clear patches of water in Ashton. There was a small boat there carved with dragons and gilded until it shone, with a quartet of blue liveried men sitting at the oars, and a couch on a small deck above.

Sebastian helped her to it, and the boat glided from its moorings with smooth strokes. On the grass of the riverbank, a pair of golden pheasants strutted, while Sophia thought that she could see deer in the distance.