Winterkeep Read online

  Casually raising his head from his paws, he touched Ferla’s mind with a question. Shall I make a round of the house, to see that all’s well?

  All is not well, she stormed. I don’t care what you do, Fox. But you’d better be available if I want you.

  I’ll check back often, of course, the fox reassured her quickly, wishing, as he always did, that she would ask him his chosen name. All the other bonded foxes he knew, including his seven siblings, had humans who called them by their chosen names, but Ferla always just called him “Fox.” A round of the house, no more, he said, to check that everyone’s behaving as you would wish.

  Scowling, Ferla grunted, then ignored him. With a small sigh of regret for the hearthstone, he rose to his feet and tiptoed to the door. Pushing through the fox flap, he stood in the corridor, bracing himself against the cold air that plagued a fox in almost every part of this house in winter, for heat rose and cold sank, and a fox was low to the ground. It would be warmer once he’d snuck into the heat ducts, though sneezier. It was an unfortunate irony in the life of foxkind that achievable comfort was often inversely proportional to achievable interestingness. He thought that even his seven siblings would agree with this, and they were the most spoiled foxes in Winterkeep.

  The blue fox entered the heat ducts through the secret hinged vent grate in the low wall of the second-story privy. It was his most recently converted vent grate and he was proud of it. Hinging a grate took a blue fox days and was neither comfortable nor interesting. First he had to hurt his mouth and risk breaking his teeth pulling out nails, then he had to thread yarn through the grate, again with his mouth, and wind it tightly in place. No one in the Cavenda household knew that he was capable of any of this. Not even Ferla; especially not Ferla. It was very satisfying.

  Once in the heat ducts, he could reach every room in the house. He could check on any of his secret tools, which he kept in various nooks and crannies. He could also follow any individual human around the house without that person knowing. No one made the heat ducts more worthwhile than Lovisa Cavenda. She had a fire inside her that burned as hot as the fire inside Ferla, but she kept it to a low, steady blaze, always controlled, always hungry. Always just nearly about to make something happen. He loved her visits home.

  The fox worked his way to Benni’s library on the first floor, guessing that that was where Lovisa would go first.

  * * *

  —

  When Lovisa entered her father’s library, her father wasn’t there.

  In the middle of his desk sat a stack of papers covered with his big, bold handwriting. No doubt, her father was drafting another argument in favor of the legalization of zilfium use: She could see the word zilfium repeated several times. She felt a little sorry for him, and for the irony of his position. By chance or fate, in the elected, fifty-member Parliament, there were currently twenty-five Scholars and twenty-five Industrialists, dead even. In the case of a tie, the president was permitted to cast a tie-breaking vote. And of course, the president was Benni’s own wife, a Scholar who would vote against him.

  The door opened and her father pushed in. “Lovisa! We weren’t expecting you. Is everything all right?”

  “I just wanted to sleep in my own bed tonight,” she said.

  “It’s late,” he said, bending down to hug her. “Did you walk all the way from campus, alone?”

  “Yes,” she said, rising on her tiptoes to hug him back, pressing her face into his scarves. “And as you can see, I was perfectly safe. No marauders in the streets.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” he said, still holding her. He smelled like his teas, as usual, but his voice was a little too hearty and his breath too quick.

  “What’s wrong, Papa?” she said.

  He gave a short laugh, kissed her forehead, and let her go. “My perceptive girl. Have you heard about the Monsean queen?”

  “Ta Varana told me.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Well. Everyone’s pretty upset, including your mother. It’s a tragedy, of course, but also, we had real hopes of getting to know her, establish a strong working relationship with her. The Royal Continent has a lot of war and instability, but Queen Bitterblue has long been one of its steadier leaders. It’s just so unfortunate.”

  “Is that why Mother had to leave her class this morning?” said Lovisa. “Ta told me about that too.”

  “That was Vikti,” said Benni. “His health had taken a turn for the worse. But he’s better now. Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Would you like to go see him?”

  “I don’t want to wake him,” she said. “Have they all been behaving themselves?”

  “Viri was making your mother’s life difficult earlier, I believe, but everything’s fine now.”

  Then it must be Viri up in the attic room. Viri was the youngest, only five. If he was up there, he’d be shivering right now, his arms wrapped around his knees, tears running down his face. Lovisa would have to find a way to check on him.

  But she pretended not to care about that, because Viri could get into more trouble if she was caught helping him. “What about the rest of the Monseans?” she said. “Are they here?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Benni. “The plans have changed.”

  “Why? Because they’re not useful to you and Mother without the queen?” Lovisa, who wasn’t afraid of her father, grinned up at him.

  “My mischievous girl,” he said, touching the white streak in her hair.

  “Where’s the delegation staying instead?”

  “With Quona Varana.”

  “Quona Varana!”

  “Yes,” said Benni, a mournful tone to his voice. “We’re all a little concerned.”

  “But how did that happen? They’ll sneeze themselves to death!”

  “Well,” said Benni, “now that the queen is gone, everything’s changed. There’s apparently a member of their party—a young Graceling woman—who’s distraught and would benefit from time alone.”

  “In a den of cat fur?”

  “Quona’s house is not that bad, Lovisa,” said Benni. “Quona has so many rooms that each cat could have its own. Think about it: An isolated house on a cliff above the sea is probably perfect for them right now. I understand that the Estillan envoy suggested it at dinner tonight, then Sara and Minta seized on the idea, and you know the Varana sisters can be a force of nature.”

  The shutters around Lovisa’s life closed tighter. She’d counted on meeting the Graceling, at least. And sitting across from the Monseans at dinner, hearing stories about a continent that still had kings and queens, wars, but also magic. And having something exciting to tell Katu, when he came back. She wondered suddenly if Nev, who was one of Quona’s students, would be more likely to meet the Graceling than she was.

  Typical, she thought bitterly. “Why was Mother late for that dinner?” she said. “Ta was asking me about it.”

  He touched her hair again, gently. “I’m sure she just lost track of time,” he said. “It’s been a distressing day. I myself stayed home. Your mother is in her study, Lovisa, if you’d like to say good night.”

  A stairway behind one of Benni’s bookcases that swung like a door led directly up to Ferla’s study, connecting their private spaces. It always made Lovisa feel like Ferla might be spying on her conversations with her father. And sometimes, her father’s words felt like a warning. Your mother is angry; your mother could be listening; don’t press your luck. Benni had long been Lovisa’s safe harbor during Ferla’s storms. As a child, she’d used to escape to this library. He would tuck her into his favorite red-and-gold armchair, share the tea he was drinking, give her a book to read. If her mother came looking for her, he would stop Ferla at the door and tell her he was handling it. Shut the door, kiss Lovisa’s forehead and say to her, “Your mother loves you.”

  “I think I’ll just get ready for bed,” she said.
r />   “Did you tell someone to light your fire?”

  “I will.”

  “Your mother and the boys will be very happy to see you at breakfast.”

  “Me too, Papa,” said Lovisa, wondering how much sneaking she could do tonight without encountering any guards, or Ferla’s mangy fox. She needed to get to Viri. She could talk to him through the door, tell him his favorite fairy tales. Viri always laughed at Lovisa’s versions of the Keeper stories, for hers were particularly irreverent. The underwater creature, who was supposedly the protector of the planet according to the silbercows, was as big as a mountain. She protected the silbercows, and in return, the silbercows took care of the sea and recruited their friends the humans to take care of the earth. So everyone was taking care of everyone, which was good, because if they didn’t, the Keeper would rise up, kill all the animals and humans, and flatten everything.

  That was the part of the fairy tales that made Lovisa want to be irreverent, that lingering hint that if this hero wasn’t placated, she would destroy the world. Everyone idly mentioned that part, then moved on to the fun parts, like the Keeper tickling the undersides of human ships, or singing mesmerizing songs that soothed the enemies of the earth and sea. But the Keeper wasn’t powerful because she was just. Her power came from being big. Anyone that big could gather worshipers and call herself a hero. It made Lovisa wonder if a hero was ever anything more than a bully.

  So, in Lovisa’s stories, she made the Keeper a clumsy bully who was prevented from destroying the world by tripping over her own feet, and so on. And her brothers protested, laughed, and squealed.

  Lovisa’s bedroom was on the second floor, not far from her parents’. She took the back, less-guarded stairs up to the nursery wing on the third floor to do some reconnaissance. Past the schoolroom, she cracked Vikti’s bedroom door open. Vikti, who was nine, was snoring loudly in his bed, like a boy with a very congested nose. A small worry Lovisa had been carrying melted away at the sight of what looked to be a garden-variety cold.

  She opened Viri’s bedroom door next. Viri was the one who got sick all the time, probably because he was always putting his books and his game pieces—and his clothes, and his fingers—in his mouth, as if he was hungry, or needed the comfort of chewing on something. He was ashamed of it, because he got yelled at for it, but he did it anyway.

  He wasn’t in his bed, which confirmed what Lovisa already knew.

  Slipping out, she paused in the corridor when she thought she heard a scampering noise. She turned in circles, looked under a nearby table, but no fox was in sight.

  Deciding not to risk waking Erita, who was seven, Lovisa retraced her path. She needed a reason to be in the attic so that Viri wouldn’t get in trouble if she was discovered. She was sneaking down the back staircase again when an excuse appeared on the steps below: the youngest house guard, the one with the broad chest, the close-cropped hair, the northern lilt to his speech, and the beardless face. She couldn’t remember his name, only that his sister was also one of the Cavenda guards, and that he smiled at her sometimes, with a gleam she thought she recognized. A gleam she didn’t think her parents would like, if they saw it.

  An idea appeared in her head, fully formed.

  “Hello,” she said lightly.

  “Hello, miss,” he responded, a tiny smile softening his lips.

  She stopped on the step above his, so that their heights were more even. His brown eyes contained flecks of amber and he smelled like a wood fire. “Don’t tell on me,” she said, nodding toward the upstairs. “Please?”

  “Tell on you for what, miss?”

  “I was looking for you.”

  “Were you?” he said, after the slightest, surprised hesitation. “Is there something I can do for you, miss?”

  Now she hesitated. “I don’t know. You might not like it.”

  His eyes touched her face. “I doubt that,” he said quietly.

  He understood what she’d intended him to understand, and Lovisa was a little alarmed with herself. She’d done this before, with boys and girls at the academy, generally out of curiosity, to know what her friends were talking about when they talked about sex. This was more calculated, which made it different.

  “Would you meet me in the attic at one o’clock?” she said. “I’ll show you then.”

  “Of course, miss.”

  And she continued down the stairs, planning to get to the attic early to visit Viri. Then the guard would arrive, so that if her mother or the fox arrived too, she could pretend she was there to meet him. Ferla wouldn’t like it, but Viri wouldn’t be punished for it.

  * * *

  —

  Fifteen minutes before one o’clock, Lovisa crept out of her bedroom with a lamp.

  She took the back stairs and passed through the nursery wing again, then the house staff’s wing, shining her light under every table and chair, into every corner, looking for the fox. Not finding him. She left the door to the attic stairs open, then ascended to the door above, steeling herself against the eeriness of the attic, always strange at night with its high ceilings and exposed beams. She left that door open for the guard as well. As she stepped into the attic, she swept her light around, still looking for the fox.

  “Viri?” she said, crossing the floor, then crouching down at the door to the punishment room. She tried the latch once, just to be thorough, but of course it was locked. She knocked lightly, then waited, surprised when there was no responding scuttle. No high-pitched voice saying her name, no tears. She pressed her ear to the wood. “Viri?”

  She heard a strange sound then: a muffled, metallic screech, followed by a thud. “Viri?” she repeated, confused.

  Then, at the sound of scampering paws, she sprang to her feet, and two things happened at once. First, she heard boots on the stairs. Second, her mother’s fox appeared out of nowhere, standing braced before her, his glimmering eyes catching the light of her lamp. She had the strange sense that he’d fallen from the sky.

  That was it, then. Now Lovisa was going to have to make a show of her liaison with the guard, and just hope the fox hadn’t seen her trying to get into that room. Crossing to the stairs, she turned out her light. “Pervert,” she whispered savagely at the little creature, a pointless jab, because foxes didn’t understand language and could only read the mind of the person to whom they were bonded. But she knew he’d be able to see this next part well enough, even in the dark.

  “What did you say, miss?” whispered the guard as he stepped into the attic.

  She pressed herself against him. They both had unlit lamps that clattered together; they put them down clumsily, kissing and touching each other. Lovisa’s main objective was to give the fox the right kind of show, exactly the misbehavior that would convince her mother that she’d come to the attic for this very purpose. She thought they should probably stay there, kissing, for a little while, but that they needn’t do much more. The guard didn’t try to press her; he was much less grabby than she was used to. But she felt him grow hard, and she heard the soft, desiring noises he made. His hands were gentle. Wishful, but cautious. It was different from anyone else she’d kissed. His restraint gave her room to feel something. When she’d estimated that they’d kissed for the right amount of time, it was actually hard to stop.

  “That’s enough for now,” she said.

  “Yes, miss,” he said breathlessly. “Of course, miss.”

  She picked up her lamp and handed him his, motioning for him to descend the steps. Then, after he’d gone, she lit her lamp again briefly, to verify that the fox was still in the room. Once she’d spotted him under a table, his eyes flashing up at her, she stepped onto the stairs and shut the door on him tightly. At the bottom of the stairs, she shut that door too.

  Then she scurried after the disappearing guard, caught his hand, and, hardly recognizing herself, pulled him along the corridor, past
the house staff’s wing to the schoolroom, which had a door that could lock and a thick, soft rug.

  She knelt, pulling him down beside her. He was surprised. “Are you sure?”

  She reached for his hand and put it inside her robe, moving it against her breast, a technique that had worked on everyone before him. It worked this time too, but this time was different, because his hand was shaking and his breath was catching. Something about the way he sounded, or smelled, or just was as he touched her, excited her. She understood now what some of her friends meant when they talked about sex as if it was something they badly wanted. She had wondered if they were lying, to make everyone else envious. She still suspected some of them were lying. But she understood the wanting now.

  Afterward, they whispered to each other about doing it again sometime soon, and Lovisa meant it. She returned to her bedroom, tired, then unable to sleep, nagged by an unsettled feeling she tried to ignore. She tossed and turned. Then she sat up, remembering the tea she needed to drink to guard against pregnancy.

  Slipping out of her room again, she carried a tea sachet from her schoolbag downstairs to the kitchen. The kitchen in the middle of the night always seemed three times bigger than it did during the day, and it was all her domain. She could raid the pantry, light a fire in the massive oven and sit as close to it as she wanted, think and plan in solitude. She was queen.

  Queen, she thought, remembering the death of the Queen of Monsea, and all the questions she’d had before she’d come home, gotten distracted, and had sex with one of her parents’ guards. She still didn’t know the guard’s name. Was that normal? Was it fair to him? What was wrong with her? Focus.