The Winner's Crime (36 page)

But that wasn’t where he had slept during her time there.

That wasn’t where he passed his private hours, where he

bathed and dressed and read and looked out windows. No,

she’d never seen those views.

Arin had lived on the other side of the twinned rooftop

gardens that joined his suite to hers. He’d given her the key

to its door. In her mind, Kestrel held the key. She fi tted it

to the lock. She eased the door open.

She imagined what she would fi nd. Maybe the hall that

led into Arin’s rooms from his garden would have a tiled

fl oor that had been glazed so that it glittered in the dark

like the scales of a magic creature. In her imagination, night

had fallen hours ago. The darkness felt ripe.

Arin wouldn’t burn lamps in every room, especially the

rooms he wasn’t using. That was something Kestrel would

do. No, Arin would light one lamp and turn it down low,

—-1

9

in the way of someone who had long been forced to conserve

28

—0

—+1

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 289

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 289

9/25/14 2:53 PM

9/25/14 2:53 PM

what little he had. There’d be one light to follow. When

SKI

O

she found it, she would fi nd him.

Sometimes, she found him in his bedroom.

Sometimes, this was too much to think. It made her

heart fl inch. It stole her courage. So she found him in other

MARIE RUTK

places: in a chair by the sitting room fi re, or crouched by the

fi re itself, feeding kindling into the fl ames.

Once she found him, what happened next was always

the same. Her imagination gave him something to hold so

that he would set it aside when he saw her. The kindling. A

book.

He was surprised to see her. He didn’t think she would

come.

He straightened. He stood. He came close.

Arin had won the truth from her that night in the capi-

tal city. He’d won it fairly. This time he would collect what

she owed. This time, he demanded all her reasons. She

would pay them fully. The truth lay on her tongue. But not

just there. Kestrel felt the truth in her throat, too. It

stemmed down deep inside her. She wondered if this was

how it felt to sing. Was this the moment before song, the

way the body set and readied itself ?

She could ask Arin. He would know. But she was afraid

of speaking.

But he was listening. He was waiting for his answers.

This was the moment. This was when it always hap-

pened. And this was what it was: Kestrel lifted her mouth

to his, and sang the truth into him.

-1—

0—

290

+1—

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 290

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 290

9/25/14 2:53 PM

9/25/14 2:53 PM

She could no longer bear Jess’s silence. Too many letters

had gone unanswered. Kestrel had been turned away from

CRIME

Jess’s door too many times. Kestrel hated to force a meet-

’S

ing . . . but in the end, that’s exactly what she did. She sent

an announcement embossed with the imperial seal. The

heavy paper proclaimed the day of Kestrel’s arrival at Jess’s

THE WINNER

townhome. It appointed the hour.

And Jess was there.

Kestrel was ushered into the parlor, where Jess sat on a

needlepoint sofa near a fi re stoked high even though the

day was fair. Kestrel stood awkwardly, twisting and un-

twisting the ribbon of her purse. Jess looked even thinner

than before, her hair dull, her eyes not quite meeting Kes-

trel’s. They were focused a bit higher— on the engagement

mark on her brow, Kestrel realized.

Jess’s gaze fl icked away. “What do you want?”

Kestrel had been queasy in the carriage the whole way

here. That feeling was worse now. Her insides screwed into

a wormy knot. “To see you.”

“Well, I’m here, just as you commanded. You’ve seen

me. And now you may leave.”

“Jess.” Kestrel’s throat closed. “I miss you.”

Jess picked at the needlepoint image stitched into the

sofa’s seat cushion. It showed a warrior girl hunting a fox.

Jess’s nails tugged out a thread.

“Was it the necklace?” Kestrel asked. She’d been

quick— unfeelingly, cruelly quick— to crush the glass petals

of Jess’s gift into dust. She caught herself hoping that a bro-

ken gift was all that had made their friendship go wrong.

—-1

“The necklace.” Jess’s voice was fl at.

291

—0

—+1

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 291

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 291

9/25/14 2:53 PM

9/25/14 2:53 PM

“I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. I—”

SKI

O

“I’m
glad
it’s broken.” Jess leaped to her feet and went to

a crystal tray set on a side table. It held a cut- glass pitcher of

water and a small vial fi lled with a murky liquid. Jess poured

water into a glass, splashing a little. She tipped the vial over

MARIE RUTK

the glass. Several drops fell into the water and clouded it.

Jess drank deeply, her brown eyes too shiny, and hard.

Kestrel’s father would recognize that look, because it

was made for war.

But he wouldn’t see Jess’s unshed tears. Or if he did,

he’d pretend they weren’t there.

Kestrel’s own eyes stung. “Tell me what I’ve done.”

“You know. You’re the one who knows everything.
I

know nothing. I’m a little innocent, struggling to keep up.

Why don’t
you
tell
me
? Tell me that I’m slow. Laugh at how

I fell asleep in your bed, how tired I was, how I had looked

for you at your wretched ball and you never spoke with me

there, not once. How I hid in the crowd and drank glass

after glass of lemon water, just to have something to do.

Tell me how I saw that slave of yours, pushing through the

crowd. He looked dirty. He wore rags. He was dark and

disgusting.

“Yet he glittered.” Jess’s voice came low, ferocious. “His

mouth glittered. His jacket did, too. Why don’t you explain

that
, Kestrel? I’m too stupid to fi gure it out on my own.”

Kestrel felt herself go slowly, icily pale.

“I didn’t think anything of the way his jacket caught the

light,” Jess said. “Like crystals, I thought. Or bits of glass.

-1—

Strange. But I didn’t want to look at him. I would
not
look at

0—

292

him. I turned away.

+1—

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 292

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 292

9/25/14 2:53 PM

9/25/14 2:53 PM

“And then I went to sleep. You woke me, you told me

about the broken necklace. I’m so
slow.
Can you believe

CRIME

that it wasn’t until morning, when I was alone in your bed-

’S

room, that it occurred to me that there was a very simple

explanation for everything?” Tears trembled on Jess’s lashes.

“Why don’t you tell me what it is, Kestrel? Tell me the truth.”

THE WINNER

Kestrel didn’t understand how the truth could be so

two- sided, like a coin. So precious— and ugly. She stood in

the center of the parlor: silent, trapped by her own si-

lence . . . and by how her silence became her answer.

Jess wept freely now. “He took everything from me.”

Kestrel stepped toward her. Jess threw up her hands as

if in defense. Kestrel halted. “Jess,” she said quietly, “he

didn’t.”

Jess gave a short, hard laugh. She swiped at the tears on

her cheeks. “No? He took my home.”

“Not for himself. It was part of the emperor’s treaty to

give the colonial homes back.”

“Which
he
signed.”

“It wasn’t your house to begin with.”

“Listen to yourself ! We won that land. It was ours.

That’s the rule of war.”

“
Whose
rule, Jess? Who says that this is the way it must

be?”

Jess’s eyes narrowed as if seeing something from far

away. “
He
has done this to you.”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“You’ve been my friend for more than ten years. Do

you think I can’t tell when you lie?”

—-1

3

“No one has
made
me change.”

29

—0

—+1

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 293

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 293

9/25/14 2:53 PM

9/25/14 2:53 PM

“But you have.”

SKI

O

Kestrel was silent.

“He took Ronan,” Jess said. “Ronan’s joined the Rang-

ers, did you know that?”

No. Kestrel had known only of his enlistment. The

MARIE RUTK

Rangers were an elite brigade. They vied for the deadliest

missions. A bright shard of fear entered Kestrel’s heart.

“Ronan took himself away,” she said fi nally. “No one made

him enlist.”

“No one?” Jess’s voice was hoarse with fury.

“I begged him,” Kestrel said. “I begged him not to.”

“What does it matter what you begged? Ronan knew. I

would bet anything that he did. He knows what I know.

That slave took
you
. That was
my
gift on his clothes. That

was
your
engagement mark on his mouth. And that was

what
you
wanted. It was what you wanted when I lay dying

on the fl oor of the governor’s palace. And even before that:

when I chose your dress and asked you to be my sister. You

wanted it all along.”

Kestrel’s gaze fell to the needlepoint sofa. She stared at

the unraveling hunter girl.

“Deny it,” Jess said.

If Kestrel pulled on the loose thread, the embroidered

face would come undone. If she pulled hard enough, maybe

the needlepoint girl would disappear altogether.

“Deny it!”

“I can’t,” Kestrel said miserably.

“Then leave.”

-1—

4

But Kestrel couldn’t move.

0—

29

“Go away, Kestrel. I don’t want to see you again.”

+1—

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 294

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 294

9/25/14 2:53 PM

9/25/14 2:53 PM

CRIME

Kestrel sat before the piano in the stark palace music room.

’S

The row of keys looked blankly back.

Jess knew.

Kestrel sank one hand down into a violent chord. And

THE WINNER

there it was again, that odd, troubling echo, the one that

always made her music sound as if it were listening to itself.

She took her hand away. Her body became rigid, her bones

grimly set. Maybe she would have been able to do what she

usually did, which was to forget the echo. Maybe she would

have stormed right into the music. But she was held tight

by a feeling she’d never had.

She didn’t want to play.

Kestrel left the piano. She considered the room. What

would make the acoustics sound right? Tapestries on the

walls? Kestrel thought about this. She thought hard, hard

enough to ignore how desperately she had wanted Jess to

understand.

Kestrel was inspecting a shelf and wondering whether

the acoustics would be better if she fi lled them with more

books when she saw it. At the back of one of the high shelves

set into the wall, there was no wooden panel. The other

shelves had wooden backs.

This one had a screen. A cunningly painted screen,

with realistic knots of wood and darker grain.

Kestrel came close. She stood on her toes and shifted a

barometer out of her way. She tapped the metal screen.

Echo.

—-1

5

There was some kind of chamber on the other side of

29

—0

—+1

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 295

135-58876_ch01_2P.indd 295

9/25/14 2:53 PM

9/25/14 2:53 PM

the wall. Behind the painted screen was a place where

SKI

O

someone could see what Kestrel did, could hear what she

played, could hear anything she said to someone else in

this room.

This room, which had been Verex’s, and which the em-

MARIE RUTK

peror had given to her.

Kestrel came down on her heels.

The emperor loved his games.

Kestrel frantically revisted every moment she’d spent in

the music room. Had she ever made a mistake? Let slip

something she shouldn’t have? She didn’t think so. No, no

one could have seen anything wrong.

Deviant.

Treasonous.

Kestrel backed away. Someone could be watching her

even now.

She left the room. She scoured the hallway outside for a

way inside the hidden space. She ran fi ngers over the hall-

way’s carvings until the center of a wooden fl ower gave way

under her touch, and a panel slid aside.

The secret room was empty and small and dark and

cold. The screen gave a view of her piano and most of the

brightly lit room, but not the door. Kestrel stared at where

she had been sitting.

She turned once more to face the hidden room. It looked

almost ordinary. Plain, clean. Not dusty. But it smelled

airless and dank. Like a prison.

-1—