42. Dagmara

Following the game of Soulaye, Dagmara spent the entire next day recovering in bed. Everything in her body ached, and when she went to sit up, the world around her spun into darkness. Nausea overwhelmed her, making it impossible to consume anything but water. She couldn’t even listen to Urszula as she went over new Ilusaurian vocabulary words.

It gave her plenty of time to stare at the canopy of her bed thinking about Claude. The Mad King who may have a heart. A heart that would never belong to her.

She was doing all of this for both Teos and Magda, and she reminded herself of that fact every day. She was protecting Magda’s secret magic, and reopening the trade routes to cure zowach.

She hated how her illness dragged her down, and yet she looked well enough that no one knew she was struggling. By forcing herself to act well in front of others, she suffered for it when she was alone. Some days, she silently suffered in front of others. And yet, who was she to complain when there were people like Teos, his permanently injured leg from the accident at the cliffs confining him to use a crutch? On the outside, Dagmara looked fine, so she could pretend to be. Teos would never have that luxury.

It was alarming to call her hidden condition with no cure a luxury. However long she pretended to be Magda, she never would be.

At least what she was doing in Ilusauri would be worth it. Children in Azurem, including Teos, would be cured. Furthermore, no one had to know that Magda wasn’t a Guardian of Life. She had to continue protecting Magda’s secret. No matter how awful Dagmara felt, emotionally and physically, all of this was for the people she loved.

But for how long? Where was Magda? She was supposed to arrive in Ilusauri after speaking with Queen Sanyal.

After an entire day in bed, Dagmara knew she had to present herself the following morning, but she could barely make it to the washroom. The others in the castle probably assumed she was taking a day for leisure, having no idea that the day wasn’t free for her. It was reserved for recovery, otherwise she would risk passing out in front of Claude, and she couldn’t cause a scene.

Slipping on a thin nightgown, she stared at herself in the mirror, seeing dark circles under her eyes.

Her fingers traced the scar on her collarbone from the night Sabien slashed her. It was a reminder of her role as an assassin for King Bogdan. She wished she had asked him or Aleksy for the truth. Why was she assassinating Azuremi citizens if the people who killed them were Ilusaurian? Why was her mom hired in the first place, forcing Dagmara and Teos to move into the royal fortress? If only she could ask. But the only people who knew the truth were all dead.

Grief threatened to knock her over, so she exited the washroom to return to bed. As she was climbing under the covers, she heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Dagmara said.

The door opened, and Urszula entered with a full tray. “Hello, Princess,” she said, and Dagmara was surprised to see Martine enter behind her.

“Martine, I wasn’t expecting you,” Dagmara said.

“I have a special delivery from the king,” Martine replied.

Urszula wiggled her eyebrows as she set the breakfast tray in front of Dagmara. “A special delivery,” she echoed, her voice melodic. Urszula then made herself scarce as Martine approached.

“He heard you were homesick and wanted to give you a gift,” Martine said. She extended a book toward Dagmara.

“Who told him I was homesick?”

Martine raised an eyebrow. “You missed lunch and dinner yesterday. If I told him you weren’t feeling well he would have summoned doctors. As a guardian, I’m sure you wouldn’t have liked that.”

Ever since Nouchenne, Martine had become suspicious of Dagmara’s identity. It was true, the hounds didn’t stir in Dagmara’s presence, only when Claude had arrived. Dagmara didn’t know why Martine hadn’t asked her blatantly about it, but she continued to make statements that showcased her suspicion.

“You’re right,” Dagmara replied. “Thank you.”

Accepting the book from Martine, she read the cover.

The Chronicles of Time.

It was the book he claimed was his favorite the night of the engagement ball.

“And this,” Martine pointed to a covered bowl on the breakfast tray.

Curious, Dagmara lifted the lid and revealed a pile of salt, perfectly shaven.

Salt. The one thing that helped her feel less light-headed when standing.

A smile creased on Dagmara’s face. She suppressed a laugh before holding the book tightly to her chest.

“Can I pass along to the king that you are pleased?” asked Martine.

“Very pleased.”

Martine clasped her hands in front of her. “Are you certain you’re not avoiding His Majesty?”

Heat flooded through Dagmara’s chest as she remembered the kiss with the king. She knew her face was bright red, and she tried to hide her expression.

“I am not avoiding him,” said Dagmara. “I just need to rest this week. I’m sure you understand.”

“I see.” Martine nodded. She turned to exit, but stopped a few paces from the door. “If I may speak freely, Princess.” She glanced over her shoulder.

Hesitantly, Dagmara muttered, “Of course.”

“I do not ask what I don’t want to know, for I am not allowed to keep secrets from my king,” she said. “Despite his reputation, the king is an honest man and deserves honesty in return.”

Dagmara swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Royals send placeholders all the time when they anticipate a dangerous situation. However, I saw the way you looked at each other in the forest. I don’t believe you are a danger to his life, but you could hurt him nevertheless, and yourself in the process.”

Dagmara was on the verge of breaking. Martine knew the truth.

“But I understand it may not be your choice. I mean, my entire life was given to protect you.”

Was that what Dagmara’s life was given for? To protect Magda? Dagmara was as much a guard as Martine was. And yet Dagmara was foolishly running around pretending to be a guardian.

Finding her courage, Dagmara responded, “I am not a placeholder, Martine.”

Martine closed her eyes briefly. “Of course not. Forgive me, Guardian.”

“And how about you and Pierre?” Dagmara changed the topic.

Martine’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Dagmara smiled before patting the bed beside her. “Come tell me.”

Martine bit her lip before finally a smile broke out on her face, and she plopped down beside Dagmara, her professional demeanor breaking. “Where do I start?”

“Start at the beginning.”

“So…when Pierre and I were put opposite one another in guard training and I nearly killed him?”

Dagmara burst out laughing. “I’m sure that’s when he fell in love with you, so yes, start there.”

The days quickly passed, and shipments arrived from Azurem. Dagmara traveled to the other provinces with Claude, meeting more governors and feigning interest in political conversations. Every moment was exhausting, and she attempted to bury all feelings that erupted when Claude met her gaze or took her hand. It was all for show.

Then the wedding preparations began. Dagmara was fitted into Magdalena’s wedding gown, which Madame Annette noted was the wrong measurements. Her suspicious face did not help Dagmara’s anxiety. Tapestries were being hung around the castle, and chefs were preparing tastings for the menu. The castle seemed flooded with servants and higher security. Everywhere Dagmara went, she felt a dozen eyes on her.

Luckily, Dagmara received permission to send her mother another message from the Scribestone. Sabien met her in the library, and Martine waited by the door, out of earshot.

Sabien unlocked the case around the Scribestone casually. “Messaging Teos?” he mused.

“My mother,” Dagmara countered.

“Who is Teos anyway?”

“None of your business. Now, some privacy?”

Sabien nodded before stepping to the side, out of reach but remaining close.

Dagmara forced herself not to lunge toward the Scribestone. Magda had to have sent a letter by now. They were days away from the wedding, where was she?

One message from Bernadette Krol, Azurem.

Dagmara,

A slight earthquake caused a rift in the mountains and I sent a few knights to investigate. Otherwise, all in Azurem is well.

Can you ask Magda to reply to her mother? I let her leave the kingdom, and she can’t even respond to a single message.

Bernadette

A rift in the mountains? Like the rift in Nouchenne? Dagmara’s throat tightened. At least no one would get hurt if there were hounds there. The mountains were too remote, and no guardians would be going near the rift.

One message from Teos Zosia, Azurem.

I’m struggling more each day, but Bernadette said a shipment of medicine just arrived in Bergclow. Did you do it? Did you convince the Mad King?

Mael Revel and Lyam Desco weren’t reported to leave Azurem. As you remember, two assassins were killed. Suspicious? I agree.

Samuel Arsenault departed the day of the coronation. One assassin escaped, so it must be him. I think we’re onto something. We asked for a detailed description, and all they could give me was that he has a scar down his face and red hair with a beard. Have you seen anyone that fits that description?

Furthermore—I know it gets more exciting—one border agent reportedly quit and went on a lavish trip right after the coronation. Seems like he received a large sum around the time of the coronation. Looks like the Ilusaurian you shoved into the ravine paid to have his name removed from the border list. But why?

More sleuthing.

Just the coolest partner in crime,T

Why would Sabien pay off the border guards to have his name removed? Dagmara knew she couldn’t ask him outright without informing him that she knew he was in Azurem, but the question lingered on her mind.

She flipped past her message from Teos and was left with a blank page. No messages from Magda. Now was the time to get worried. Had she even made it to Flaustra safely?

“You done?” Sabien asked.

Dagmara felt uneasy. She stepped away from the Scribestone and nodded.

Sabien returned to her side, closing the case and sealing it. He faced her, a smirk on his face.

“Whenever I’m in here, I think of the last time we were here together,” he said.

Dagmara frowned. He was referring to their kiss. “I told you to forget it happened.”

“I don’t want to.” Sabien inched closer, staring down at her. “So tell me, who is a better kisser? Claude or me?”

Dagmara’s face went pale. She stuck her chin up before replying, “Claude.” Even if she said it to get under Sabien’s skin, she couldn’t deny how she felt about her kiss with Claude in the forest. It had altered every emotion in her body.

Reaching out, Sabien placed a finger under her chin. “No need to lie to yourself.”

Dagmara batted his hand away before whirling on her heel, returning to the entrance and where Martine was waiting. “I’m not,” Dagmara replied.

“You’ll see the real him soon enough,” Sabien stated. “Then you’ll come crawling to me.”

She glanced over her shoulder and smirked right back. “Don’t be jealous, it’s not a good look on you.”

Sabien’s expression darkened, and for the first time, his smirk turned into an expression that could only be described as feral.

Walking back to her room, Dagmara’s mind was running wild with thoughts. How she wished she was back in Azurem preparing for the coronation. Everything was better back then.

Or was it?

“Is there something going on between you and Sabien?” Martine said from beside Dagmara.

“He thought I was flirting with him when I wasn’t, and now he won’t leave me alone,” Dagmara said briefly. “I’m trying to avoid him.”

“Does the king know?”

“No,” Dagmara was quick to reply, “and let’s keep it that way. I can handle the captain.”

Then a tune began to play in the distance that made Dagmara freeze. She recognized the music—she could sing it in her sleep. It was—

The music ended abruptly. Had she imagined it? Was the Azuremi Waltz simply playing in her mind?

“Strange,” Martine muttered under her breath. “I wouldn’t think the instrumentalists are practicing this late in the night.”

“The Azuremi Waltz will be played at the wedding?” Dagmara gasped.

“I don’t recognize the music,” Martine admitted. “I don’t know.”

The music commenced once more. It was only the violin’s line. Faint, but present.

Without thinking, Dagmara took off in the direction of the sound. Turning down a corridor, she found herself at the open doors to the ballroom. She and Martine stood at the threshold, peering inside.

The glossy floor was reflective of the dome ceiling, made entirely of glass. The stars were so bright, reminding Dagmara of the ceiling in the library.

Under one of the alcoves was a single violinist. His music was propped on a stand, and directly beside him was Sacha. The large man leaned against a column, his arms crossed. His expression was one of boredom, but that was how Dagmara was used to seeing the giant. On the ground beside him were Pierre’s bow and swords.

In the center of the room, Claude and Pierre struggled to do a three-step turn. Pierre was on his tiptoes, clearly taking the female role in the dance.

Claude cursed loudly. That would be the next Ilusaurian word Dagmara learned.

“Stop!”

The violinist screeched to a halt.

“It’s one, two, three!” Claude said, exasperated. Dagmara loved when he spoke in his native language.

“I thought it was one, two, three,” Pierre replied, doing a jig on the ground that didn’t look like the Azuremi Waltz at all. “Right?” He looked at Sacha.

Sacha uncrossed his arms, revealing a piece of paper. He was silent as he scanned it over, then he looked up and gave a shrug.

“You two are helpless,” Claude said under his breath.

“I can help,” Dagmara said from the doorway, announcing her presence.

The men jolted upright, Claude and Pierre taking a giant step away from one another. “I didn’t see you…” Claude started, switching to Azuremi. “How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough,” said Dagmara. “Pierre, why don’t you dance with Martine, and I can steal the king from you?”

“Oh no,” Martine said, “I’m a guard. I don’t dance.”

“I don’t dance either,” said Pierre.

“Yes,” Martine nodded, her cheeks reddening, “that much is obvious.”

A pout formed on Pierre’s face.

“Come on.” Dagmara grabbed Martine’s hand and yanked her into the ballroom before she could object. They immediately moved into the two pairs. Despite Martine’s objections, she eagerly put her arms around Pierre’s neck to prepare for the dance. Pierre held her around the waist, keeping his distance as though they were teenagers dancing for the first time.

“No, no,” Dagmara said, “like this.”

She used Claude’s hands to demonstrate, bringing one to her upper back so that she could rest her arm against his, and then taking his other hand in hers. Her breath caught in her throat as she met Claude’s gaze. His proximity made her heart race. She hadn’t been this close to him since she had kissed him. She saw his eyes flick to her lips, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

Trying to forget the kiss in the forest, she proceeded to teach the choreography. Despite stepping on a few toes and slamming into Claude’s chest every once in a while, Dagmara had the time of her life. By the end, her cheeks hurt from smiling so long. Her body was yelling at her, causing pain to ripple through every joint and she felt lightheaded, but she felt secure in Claude’s arms. If she was going to feel miserable, she would rather experience bliss dancing the night away than sitting by herself.

When the violinist decided to join in, it was well into the night, and exhaustion wore down on Dagmara, her eyelids feeling heavy.

“You’re a much better partner than Pierre,” Claude whispered.

Dagmara glanced over Claude’s shoulder, watching the two guards fumbling on a completely different tempo. Yet they didn’t seem to care, their bodies moving at the same imperfect timing.

Dagmara smiled. “You’re a much better partner than Pierre too.”

Claude let out a laugh. “I told you I could dance. You didn’t believe me.”

“Next time…” Dagmara tried to hide her yawn, “I’ll take your word for it.”

Claude released her hand, bringing his palm up to cup her cheek. “I’m glad you challenged me. Otherwise, we probably wouldn’t be here. And that would be a tragedy.”

“Oh yes, because the Azuremi Waltz is certainly important for the betterment of our kingdoms.”

“And the safety of our people.” A smile formed on Claude’s face, and it was beautiful. With his hand on the back of her neck, he guided her toward his chest. She let herself lean into his hug, her head resting on his shoulder, his leaning on hers. With one hand cupping the back of her head, and the other around her waist, Dagmara felt secure in his embrace.

They continued to sway under the starlit sky and she breathed in his soft cologne. The prior feeling of homesickness had vanished. For the first time, she felt safe in a place that wasn’t home. The world around her blurred, the violin melody a nostalgic lullaby.

In Dagmara’s mind, they were the only two that existed.