25. Dagmara

Dagmara bolted like she never had in her life. Nothing mattered. Not the deal she made with Magda, not the confidence she had in herself earlier that day. Not even her health could stop her as she raced up the terrace steps, tore into the east wing, and barged into her room.

Urszula gasped upon the sight of her, but Dagmara disregarded her. She fell onto the bed, catching herself on her hands and struggling to catch her breath.

“Are you alright?” Urszula asked, racing to her side. She rubbed Dagmara’s back, waiting for her breathing to calm.

Dagmara’s heart was beating far too fast. She felt like the world was going dark. She turned over, propping her feet up on the post that held the canopy, and let her blood rush back to her head. Finally her body seemed to settle, but her mind was still on full alert.

“We’re leaving,” she announced. “Now.”

“Why? What happened?” Urszula asked.

“Start packing.”

Urszula didn’t argue with Dagmara, noting her urgency. She set to work right away. A few minutes went by as they collected their luggage, shoving all their belongings into cases, until finally there was a knock on the door.

“It’s Martine.”

Dagmara exchanged a glance with Urszula. “Come in.”

Martine let herself in, and her attention immediately went to the luggage pile near the door.

“We’re leaving,” Dagmara blurted out before Martine had the opportunity to ask. “The king ordered me to leave.”

Martine shifted her position. “The king asked to speak with you, Princess.”

“Speak with me?” Dagmara asked.

Martine gave a nod and clasped her hands behind her back.

A laugh escaped Dagmara’s lips. “No.”

Martine’s professional demeanor wavered for a moment as surprise flashed across her face. “You can’t deny a meeting with the king.”

“I’m a guardian. I can do whatever I please,” Dagmara responded. She didn’t know where this newfound courage came from. However, after seeing Claude’s magic in full force that afternoon, she knew she stood no chance against him. She was scared, and the only thing she could do was pretend she wasn’t. She and Magdalena hadn’t thought this plan through. Especially now that Sabien was back and could easily blow her cover.

“I…,” Martine tried to object, but her mouth hung open slightly, unable to find the right words to counter.

“Go tell the king I heard everything he had to say,” Dagmara stated. “He made himself clear this afternoon.”

“Princess—”

“Please, Martine,” Dagmara said. “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

With a nod, Martine turned and left the room.

Urszula wore an expression of shock. “This won’t end well. He will find you.”

“I know, so we have to leave right now.” Dagmara rose from the bed and began filling the pockets of her dress with her most important potions. She slipped a few throwing stars into the slot on her corset, letting them hide behind the thick binding. She continued to instruct Urszula as she pulled on new gloves, hiding the wound from the first day on the balcony once more, “Grab whatever you can and get down to the stables. I have to get something first.”

“No, you need to come with me. They won’t let me go alone.”

“I can’t leave without something important,” Dagmara stated. “Please.”

After a few moments passed, Urszula finally nodded. “Hurry.”

Following her instincts, Dagmara retraced her steps back to the terrace. It was one of the few places she was allowed to go in this castle, so she knew the way well enough. It had taken the remainder of the afternoon to pack, so the sun had set, leaving only the moonlight to guide her. The king gave her permission to leave, and she was taking it. She would have to find proof about his involvement some other way. It wouldn’t matter if she ended up dead or if Sabien revealed who she really was. Now that Sabien was here, there were a lot more things that could go wrong.

Once outside, she spotted the leku plant. The only guards in sight were in the yard in the distance. Perfect. Dagmara skipped down the terrace stairs and dropped to her knees in front of the herb, marveling at its beauty. She had never seen so much in one place before. How dare he horde it all for himself.

She reached out to pluck a few strands. As soon as she picked one, it evaporated in her grasp. Shaken, she tried again, only to receive the same result. Was she going crazy? She picked another bush and plucked a stem, and yet within a blink of an eye, it was no longer in her gloved hand. She couldn’t believe it. Using both arms, she scooped up full handfuls, yanking them from the earth. She could feel them in her palms for a moment before they dissipated once more.

“Taking a souvenir home with you?”

In one swift motion, Dagmara stood and whirled to face the voice. Her whole body tensed upon seeing the king. He didn’t have the same malice in his face as he did the last time she saw him, but he frightened her to the core.

“Is this a trick?” Dagmara gestured to the ground.

“You know, I’ve never been denied when I request to see someone,” Claude said, his expression stoic. He continued, “You would be the first.”

“Maybe it’s good for you to be turned down once in a while,” Dagmara replied, unable to quell her fear. She was like a caged tiger lashing out at anything she could between the bars. “Now answer my question.”

“You continue to surprise me, Princess. Walk with me.” He turned toward the palace once more.

“No,” Dagmara stated, nearly stamping her foot on the ground in protest. “Answer me first.”

He paused to glance over his shoulder. “You know the answer already. But walk with me, and I will explain.”

Deep down, Dagmara knew why the leku had evaporated, but she wished it weren’t true. She wanted to go with him. There was something that drew her toward him whether it was curiosity or something else. If he was about to walk her to her death, so be it.

Letting out a sigh, she began to walk beside him, not missing the faint smile that crossed his lips.

“First I want to discuss what happened earlier,” Claude said, much to Dagmara’s surprise. He paused as they passed through a set of guards that were holding the castle doors open. “I am intrigued about how you saved my life,” Claude continued. “That was supposed to be my job.”

Dagmara suppressed her expression as they rounded the corner, heading down the north wing. Why was he being so kind to her? Suspicion gnawed inside her.

They walked side-by-side in the reflective hallway, passing through the row of sparkling mirrors—suddenly images of Claude flashed on all sides, even though he was right beside her. This, Dagmara knew, wasn’t an illusion. If he hadn’t been leading her through the expansive maze, she was convinced she would never find the exit.

“How did you know the wine was poisoned?” Claude asked.

That was the question she didn’t know how to answer without giving herself away. Besides, she still didn’t know why she saved him. Was it just instinct?

“It was the pitcher, Your Majesty.”

“The pitcher?”

“It had a compartment I saw, and I assumed the worst.”

“I didn’t see a compartment,” Claude replied. “You’ve seen pitchers like these before?”

Dagmara spared a glance up at him, but decided not to answer that question. Was she going to admit she has used these pitchers before? Absolutely not.

“I understand,” Claude said, his voice low. “There is still a long way to go before you trust me.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever fully trust you, Your Majesty,” Dagmara admitted.

Claude stopped in his tracks, grabbing her hand as he did. A chill ran through her at their contact.

“I didn’t kill my parents,” he whispered, but every word was filled with tension.

Dagmara didn’t believe him, but maybe this was her way in. “Then what happened?”

“I…,” he shut his eyes tightly. “I am not ready to relive that day.”

Pulling her hand free from his grip, Dagmara gave him a curt nod. “It’s fine to admit you don’t trust me either.”

His eyes fluttered open, and a flare ignited. “I neither trust you, nor like you.” He pushed his hand onto a mirror, revealing a door, and led Dagmara out into a courtyard. She would never have noticed a door was behind the floor-length mirror.

Before her, was an interior courtyard and a path extending to a greenhouse. On all sides were arched columns leading into other wings of the castle, as well as a second-story balcony wrapping around the courtyard’s edges. In front of Dagmara, was a sea-green pond bubbling with small fountains of water, and fuchsia flowers dotted the edges. In the center next to the greenhouse was a cherry-blossom tree, its pink buds in full bloom.

Two guards stood by the greenhouse entrance, and the king quickly ordered, “Leave us.” They obeyed, and within moments, Dagmara and Claude were the only two present.

She felt her breath catch in her throat. This could be where he killed her. She had her chance to escape, and she didn’t take it. What if he assumed she wasn’t Magdalena? Although how could he kill someone in a place this beautiful?

“You asked if this all was a trick,” Claude said, snapping her out of her scrambling thoughts, “and it is.”

A silver light shimmered at his fingertips, and his eyes were aglow with silver specks. Everything around her began to decay. The flowers on the cherry blossom tree crumpled into dried petals, and deadly weeds snaked up its trunk, suffocating the life from its branches. The pond dried up, and the lively green plants became a decrepit shadow of what they once were. All around, the courtyard displayed signs of erosion due to wind and rain, and instead was choked with debris.

Dagmara couldn’t help but gasp. She backed up, only feeling brittle grass crunch underneath her feet. “I…I don’t understand,” she stammered.

“Everything on the front lawn is a facade,” Claude stated. He spoke as though this was rehearsed. It was simply facts for him, nothing more. “This is what is real.”

She tried to take in the decay. It was hideous, and she felt sick to her stomach. A putrid smell of rotting plants filled her senses, making her gag. She covered her mouth, trying to hide her reaction from the king.

Everything that was glorious and beautiful about the palace…was a facade?

As she lowered her hand from her mouth, she looked at him. Truly looked at him. He was a few feet away, alone, in the center of a courtyard filled with decay.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why make such a false facade? People think you’re hoarding resources from your own citizens.”

“I’d rather them think me a monster than know the truth,” he stated. “If they saw our entire kingdom was in a famine, there would only be fear. We would be vulnerable. The other kingdoms would think we were weak. I’d rather have my people angry than afraid.”

Those words stuck Dagmara at her very core.

“This started after the death of my parents,” Claude admitted. “Almost as if the death of the guardians began to drain away the soul of the kingdom. Don’t you see, Princess? Your life is holding your whole kingdom together.”

Magda’s life. She was in more danger than Dagmara thought.

“But you’re here,” said Dagmara. “Why is your kingdom fading then?”

“I wasn’t a guardian when my parents were killed. I wasn’t crowned until years later,” he explained. “I don’t know how it works, but to the kingdom, the Guardians of the Mind may be dead. There were no guardians for years.”

And if Magda truly has Soul magic…there are no Life Guardians left either.

Dagmara felt her stomach drop. She had to get news of this to Queen Bernadette, fast. What if Azurem started to perish like Ilusauri?

With a wave of his hand, a silver glimmer shone through the courtyards. A metallic hue glistened in his eyes, and the courtyard came to life once more. Foliage grew from the dust, and the tree sprouted pink flowers.

It was fascinating to watch. It was magic she had never seen before.

“I have one more thing to show you,” Claude said before heading toward the greenhouse.

Dagmara didn’t object this time. She followed his lead inside the glass room. Inside, was an overflow of greenery, with potted plants dangling from its arched roofs, held up by intricate ironwork between each glass panel. It was dark except for the moonlight, but Dagmara was still able to spot rows of herbs lining the walls, illuminated by the starry night sky.

She wanted to ask him if this was also a false projection, but she held her tongue as they walked into the structure.

Claude led her further into the greenhouse, stopping in a corner with his back to her. “Whoever killed my parents, whoever wanted Ilusauri to fall to dust, wants the same thing for Azurem. I don’t believe they will stop until they kill you too,” he said.

“If your theory is true, I am not safe anywhere,” Dagmara stated. That, she knew for a fact.

He turned to face Dagmara. “After the assassination attempt this afternoon, I will double security. I know you don’t trust me, but I vow to do what I can to keep you safe.”

“Well, whoever it was did poison your wine glass as well.”

A minor detail that made Dagmara question if Claude was really behind all of this. She wouldn’t put it past a crazy murderer to poison themselves briefly if it meant killing her. She just wasn’t sure who Claude was yet.

Claude shrugged. “I owe you for saving my life, and I don’t do well when I have debts to pay. So ignore my previous remarks and stay here where I promise to do my best to protect you. Regardless of what we think about each other, this marriage would help our kingdoms. I don’t need troops from Azurem. As you see, I need food for my people, and clean water, which your kingdom has an excess amount of. And, as I recall, you need medicine.”

With a move of his hand, he gestured to a pallet behind Dagmara that held a wall full of leku. Out of instinct, Dagmara rushed forward to touch the leaves. She didn’t have to pick one to test it, for she could smell the herb wafting from where it rested. These were real. These leaves, only native to Ilusaurian soil and climate, were right before her. She was both overwhelmed and lightheaded at the sight.

“We take special care to keep these alive, despite the famine. You can take a handful and return to Azurem, where I can’t guarantee your protection, but you will be home,” Claude said. “Or, you can sign the marriage contract with me, we can put on a good show for the engagement ball and the wedding, but live our own lives. Then our kingdoms can benefit from what we desperately need.” The end of his sentence was breathless, as though it were a plea.

It was real. She stumbled back into an iron bench and took a seat, pressing a palm to her racing heart. Everything in the greenhouse was real.

But Ilusauri was dying. If this was to happen to Azurem, she would need all the allies she could get. How could the decay be stopped? What if he was behind it, and all of this was some ploy to get her to trust him? What if the destroyed courtyard was the real illusion?

Claude kept his distance as he watched Dagmara seated on the bench. His voice was low, but filled with intensity. “Aside from dropping to my knees before you, Princess, I don’t know how else to beg.”

The king on his knees in front of her? That would be a sight she would pay money to see. She almost asked for him to kneel down before her, but decided not to press her luck.

“I don’t trust you,” Dagmara began, “but I do trust that your need for resources is the motive for this marriage. As you know, medicine is at the center of mine. I will stay for the wedding and see to it that these arrangements are made for the betterment of both our kingdoms.”

A soft smile caressed his face. It was beautiful, nearly taking Dagmara off guard.

“I am honored to hear that,” he replied. “We don’t have to like each other…this can be purely political.”

“Purely political,” she echoed.

“Then I will see you at the engagement ball at the end of the week.”

“Wait—what?” she stammered, standing to her feet immediately. It was too fast, and darkness crowded the corners of her vision. She engaged the muscles in her legs, keeping herself upright.

“I’m sure you can feel the tension between us. There’s no reason to try and make this relationship work if it isn’t needed. We will see each other at the mandatory events.”

Dagmara paused, her mouth slightly agape. Less time with the scary guardian and more time to herself to break into the royal suite?

She smiled at Claude. “Sounds wonderful.”

A rapping at the greenhouse door alerted them both. Claude crossed the distance in swift strides, opening the door to reveal an older man in a dark robe. His wrinkled hands were clasped on a leather bound book, and two guards hovered behind.

“Coroner,” Claude announced, a surprised tilt to his head.

“Apologies, Your Majesty, Princess, but I knew you would prefer I interrupt about this pressing matter.” The coroner’s voice was a high-pitched wheeze. Combined with the fact that he was speaking in Ilusaurian, it was difficult for Dagmara to understand.

Dagmara was quick to realize that even though she and Claude were alone, everyone knew where the king was in the castle at all times.

“Speak.” There was something about the way Claude spoke in his native language that was much more authoritative.

“The perpetrator we apprehended today…is dead.”

“What?” Claude’s fists clenched. He pointed at one guard, “Find Martine to escort Dagmara back to her room. You,” he pointed at the next guard, “stay with her until Martine arrives. Coroner, with me.”

With that, Claude was exiting the greenhouse without so much as a glance in Dagmara’s direction. The guards obeyed instantly, one hovering near Dagmara as though his life depended on it, the other rushing to find Martine.

Stepping out into the courtyard, Dagmara watched Claude and the Coroner walk toward the exit, both in furious discussion. She wanted to ask to stay with them, to hear what happened, but she knew her place.

“How did he die?” Claude asked, his voice as emboldened as his strides.

Just before they exited, Dagmara heard the Coroner’s response. It seemed like a strange response, seeing as the servant was brought to the castle jail. Maybe she misinterpreted the words, or had the Ilusaurian verbiage wrong. But she could have sworn she heard him say, “He seems to have drowned.”