Rival Magic Page 15

  A spasm caught me before I could even pronounce the second word, spoiling my spell. I glared at Moppe. “So that’s—hic—how it is. You—hic—lied to me. Tricked me into—hic—teaching you magic just to—hic—use it against me. Were you—hic—planning this all along?”

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t know I was a wizard. I was only at Master Betrys’s house to spy. I didn’t plan on becoming her apprentice. Or your”—she hesitated—“friend.”

  “Well, no—hic—worries on that count,” I said. “You’re not—hic—my friend. You’ve never—hic—been my friend. You can go—hic—rot for all I care.” At least that was one good thing about the hiccup curse. It hid the terrible soggy edge in my voice, the tears that were desperate to come pouring out.

  Hinges creaked. A trapdoor opened, and two booted feet appeared on the ladder leading down into the hold. I’d slept the morning away in the cage, judging by the dusty shaft of afternoon sunlight filtering down around the newcomer.

  She was a woman around my mother’s age. She strode toward my cage with quick, purposeful steps, her dark, curling hair bound by a purple scarf, her eyes sharp and watchful. Something about her was strangely familiar. Had I seen her before?

  “I told you to fetch me when she woke, Agamopa,” said the woman.

  “She only just woke up, Mama,” said Moppe.

  That was it. It was the woman from Moppe’s nightmare. The one who had stood there, relentless and demanding, expecting her daughter to shoulder the weight of a mountain.

  Moppe’s mother arched a brow. “And what else did I tell you?”

  “Oh. Sorry, Captain Porphyra.”

  Captain Porphyra? I blinked at the black-haired woman. “She’s—hic—your mother? The leader of the—hic—Liberation is your mother?”

  “Captain Porphyra,” said Moppe, “this is Antonia Durant.”

  “Indeed she is,” said Porphyra, looking at me as if I were a pastry in a shop window. “You’ve done well, Moppe, bringing me not only the crown, but also a very useful bargaining chip. Councillor Durant won’t dare interfere once she knows we have her precious daughter.”

  I snorted. “You don’t know—hic—my mother very well, then.”

  Moppe frowned. “Bargaining chip? You didn’t say anything about that. Antonia’s smart. She’ll understand, once we explain everything. She can help us.”

  “I’ll help you—hic—jump off a cliff, murdering scum!” I snarled. “You killed my brother!”

  “You don’t understand,” Moppe began. “It wasn’t like that. He was working with the Liberation.”

  The words exploded over me, staggering me so that I had to grip the bars of my cage to keep from toppling over. I shook my head. “F—my brother was no—hic—rebel. You’re lying.”

  That must be it. I couldn’t believe anything she said. She’d pretended to be my friend all this time, knowing she was going to steal the crown for her mother. And now she was trying to trick me again. But I wasn’t going to fall for it this time.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Porphyra. “We don’t need the girl.”

  “She’s Medasian,” Moppe said, crossing her arms. “I thought we were freeing all Medasians from the empire. That includes Antonia.”

  “We can only save the ones who want to be saved,” said Porphyra. “The ones who still remember who they are.” She stalked closer to my cage, peering down at me. The tilt of her head was skeptical. “What are you, girl? Medasian or Regian?”

  Both. I was both. In my blood and in my heart, I was both. But obviously that didn’t fit into Porphyra’s world. And I knew one thing for certain: I wanted no part of the Liberation. They had killed my brother.

  I lifted my chin. “Regian,” I said. “I’m—hic—Regian.”

  Moppe made a small, sad sound. Porphyra merely nodded, as if she’d expected that answer. “Very well,” she said. “Then you will return to Regia Terra, along with your mother and every other loyalist. The Imperial Navy will no longer hold sway over our waters. Those who have been sent to work their lives away on prison ships”—her resonant voice faltered—“will be returned to their families.”

  She stepped away from my cage, sliding one arm around Moppe’s shoulders. “We will restore Medasia to her rightful place as sovereign of the seas, under the rule of their rightful queen.”

  Wait. What? I stared at Porphyra. “But they all—hic—died of the fever. King Goros and his three daughters.”

  I avoided Moppe’s gaze, remembering her ridiculous suggestion that Regia Terra had somehow been behind that.

  “They were murdered by a Regian sympathizer,” said Porphyra, “a man promised power in the new colony. Fortunately, his betrayal was discovered in time to save the youngest of Goros’s daughters. She was smuggled away in secret, to be raised among the fisherfolk, while the rest of the world believed her dead. So that one day one of her descendants could reclaim the throne and punish those who’d betrayed Medasia.”

  I shook my head. “How do you—hic—know that?”

  Porphyra hugged Moppe tight against her. “Because my husband heard the story from his grandmother. How the young princess had to flee the palace in secret, disguised as the huntmaster’s daughter. How she had to grieve in silence and hide her tears. How she learned to hunt and fish and run free across the sands.”

  “How did his—hic—grandmother know all that?” I asked.

  “Because it was her own story. Her own life.”

  “Then…” My brain was stumbling to catch up, to make sense of the fantastic tale. “Moppe’s great-grandmother was—hic—the only surviving princess of the royal line. Which means Moppe…”

  I faltered, finally turning to look at my former friend. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fixed on the floor as if she wished it would turn to quicksand and swallow her.

  Porphyra gave her a small shake. “Chin up, Agamopa. This is your destiny.”

  Finally, Moppe lifted her head and looked at me, haunted but defiant.

  “Moppe,” I said, my voice hoarse. I wasn’t sure if it was a question, a plea, or a consolation.

  “Her name is Agamopa,” said Porphyra triumphantly. “And she is the rightful queen of Medasia.”

  * * *

  They brought me up onto the deck later, as the sun began to dip low, casting a dazzling net across the waters. From what I could see, Captain Porphyra’s ship was somewhere south of Port Meda, a few miles offshore.

  I’d managed to undo the hiccup curse by then. It had taken several dozen attempts to get the incantation out between spasms. I still gave the occasional hic, though, as I stood beside Moppe along the railing. The fact that she thought my magic was stifled by the hiccup curse was the only advantage I had.

  Not that I’d come up with any useful spell to get myself out of the mess.

  There were Liberationists everywhere. The deck was a flurry of activity as men and women tended the three enormous sails and moved briskly, carrying supplies. Captain Porphyra stood at the helm beside a great boulder of a woman who had the wheel in her large and capable hands.

  All of them were armed. I saw sabers, wickedly curved daggers, pistols. A handful of the rebels hunkered down along the railing, cleaning out muskets and measuring powder.

  And then there were the three rebels who stood a few paces away from Moppe and me, their expressions watchful and intent. Royal bodyguards, I supposed. The youngest of them, a brown-skinned boy only a few years older than me, watched me like a hawk after a mouse. I resisted the urge to curse him. It would do no good to attack the rebels when I had no way off the ship. I had to wait for the right moment.

  As I looked out along the prow of the ship, my heart clenched when I saw the name painted there. It was worn, the paint scraped and faded, but I could still make it out.

  Victory.

  This was my brother’s ship! This was where he’d died. I clutched the railing behind me, fingers biting into the wood. My stomach churned, imagining what had happened. The sme
ll of gun smoke. Screams and shouts. When I stared down at the smooth wooden deck, all I could see was the scarlet pool of his blood.

  “Antonia—” Moppe began.

  “Don’t speak to me,” I snapped. “You can use me as your bargaining chip, but don’t expect me to be happy about it. I have nothing to say to you. Hic,” I added belatedly.

  She frowned. “Your brother—”

  “If you say one more word about my brother, I swear I will curse you with the boiling hives and never, ever give you the counterspell.”

  The hawkish bodyguard set a hand on the pistol at his hip, but Moppe waved him back.

  “You undid the hiccups,” she said. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Florian was a Liberationist. You know I’m right!”

  I stared harder at the deck.

  “I never met him,” said Moppe, “but Mama told me he was very brave. It was his idea to steal the Victory. He had it all planned so no one would be hurt. But someone raised the alarm, and the watch started shooting. He was helping tack the mainsail when he got hit. He fell into the sea. They tried to save him, but…”

  I swallowed, fighting the claws squeezing my breath. I didn’t want to believe her. It would be easier to just hate Moppe, to hate the entire Liberation for taking my brother away from me.

  But I also knew my brother. He had never been particularly loyal to the empire. He’d loved the stories of Medasia and her old kings and queens. It had been Mother’s idea for him to join the Imperial Navy. They’d had terrible fights over it for the better part of a year before he finally agreed to let her buy him a commission.

  I remember going to his room that night and finding him sitting on his bed, holding one of the old Medasian theater masks in his hands, staring into its empty eyes. It was the mask of the fox, a trickster character who had rescued Queen Meda from a pack of wolves when she first landed on the island. It was my brother’s favorite part to play in the old epics. He was wonderful, prancing and slouching and lurking in the corners of the stage, every gesture rippling with playful menace, every smile a tease and a promise.

  I asked if he was sad about enlisting, because there was something broken in his eyes as he stared into the mask.

  No. This is important, Ant. He looked up, tweaking my nose. You’ll see. Sometimes our dreams don’t turn out exactly as we expect. I always wanted to be a dashing hero, he said, lifting the fox’s mask to his face, grinning at me beneath it. And now I have my chance. Don’t worry. I’m going to help make Medasia a better place for everyone. Including you.

  I gave a sharp shake of my head, banishing the memory.

  “Antonia—” Moppe began, but I cut her off.

  “Even if he was a Liberationist, he’d never approve of summoning some horrible sea monster that could murder hundreds of people. That isn’t brave. That isn’t heroic!”

  “I don’t want to murder anyone,” Moppe said, her voice softening. “You remember the Cave of Echoes? When you went off and left me at the chasm, I did ask a question.”

  I crossed my arms. “What question?”

  “I asked how to free Medasia without a war. And Rhema answered.”

  “What did she say?”

  Moppe shrugged. “Some magespeak. But it didn’t work. Or I didn’t remember it right. You’re the one who can memorize entire grimoires, remember? I’m the one who can barely read. The only thing I have going for me is the crown, so that’s what I’m going to use.”

  “You’ve got a lot more than that,” I snapped. “You’re amazing.”

  Moppe almost smiled. My heart twisted, not understanding how someone who was my friend could also be my enemy.

  “What about you?” Moppe asked.

  I scuffed the deck with one sandaled toe. “What about me?”

  “You asked a question too. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “Fine, yes,” I admitted. “I asked a question, and I got an answer. But for your information, mine didn’t work either.” Probably because I was too middling of a wizard. Because this most certainly wasn’t my dream come true. It was the exact opposite. I was a traitor, my home was about to collapse into civil war, and I was trapped on a boat with my enemy. The Schola Magica had never felt so impossibly far away.

  “Then you see why I have to do this,” she said. “It’s the only way to free Medasia. The Regians will have to leave once they recognize that I’m Meda’s heir. It’s part of the original treaty.”

  “So why all this?” I sputtered, gesturing at the ship, the muskets, the promise of bloody war. “Just announce you’re queen.”

  “Because they murdered King Goros and two of his daughters. We can’t trust the Regians. They’d probably call me a fake. I need to prove to the entire island—to the entire world—that I’m Meda’s heir. And Mama says the only way to do that is with a show of force.”

  “And you’re just going to go along with that?” I demanded.

  “I—I have to,” she said. “Everyone’s counting on me.”

  “Do you want to be queen?” I asked.

  Her gaze slid toward where Captain Porphyra stood at the helm. “What I want doesn’t matter. I’m the queen. It’s my destiny.”

  “What about your father?” I asked. “Isn’t he the rightful king?”

  “He’s on a prison ship on the other side of the Windwash Sea. If he’s even still alive,” she added, her voice cracking. “I’m the one who has to do this, Antonia. It’s my responsibility.”

  I remembered Moppe’s nightmare then. How she’d fought so hard to hold that great boulder aloft. The fierce determination in her mother’s eyes. What must it have been like for Moppe, growing up knowing she might one day be queen? “How long have you known?” I asked.

  She swallowed, looking out across the sea. “Papa told me stories when I was a little girl, about the princess escaping. But I didn’t know the truth until after he got sent away last year. That’s when Mama told me. She said that since the Regians had taken him away, it was my job now, to be queen.”

  I could almost see the boulder looming over her, the crushing weight bearing down on her thin shoulders. “There must be another way. Just because your mother says—”

  “I’m not doing this because of her. I’m doing it for Medasia,” said Moppe. “I’m not going to hurt anyone. I know my mother wants vengeance, but I swear, I won’t let the Black Drake hurt anyone. All I need to do is show everyone that I have the crown. That Medasia has a queen again.”

  “You think you can summon up one of the most ancient and powerful monsters in the world and no one is going to get hurt?”

  Moppe said nothing. Boots cracked against the deck as Captain Porphyra stalked over to join us. “It’s time,” she said.

  * * *

  I watched Moppe and her mother as they stood together near the helm. “You can do this, Agamopa,” she said. “You are a daughter of Meda. I know you’re brave and strong. Now it’s time for the whole world to find out.”

  For a brief moment, I thought the captain’s eyes looked sad, but it might have been only the shadow of one of the gulls spinning overhead. Watching them together, I felt a keen sense of longing. My own mother had never hugged me so fiercely, had never looked at me like that, like I could change the world, like I held stars in my hands. Then again, that love was its own sort of burden. I’d seen that clear enough in the Forest of Silent Fears.

  They broke apart, and Porphyra gestured to one of the waiting rebels, who marched forward briskly, holding out a bundle wrapped in silky purple cloth.

  The rest of the rebels had gathered on the deck below, arrayed in silent, expectant lines. One young woman clung to the highest mast, keeping watch over the seas from beneath the snapping purple flag of the Liberation. I stood to one side, guarded by the suspicious boy. My heart rattled against my ribs, but I tried my best to remain calm. If I was going to act, it had to be soon. But first, I needed a plan. How was I, with my middling magic, going to stop a ship full of rebel pirates and an enormous sea monster
?

  Porphyra lifted the cloth-wrapped bundle, gently tugging free the silk to display the gleaming, mother-of-pearl wonder of the crown.

  There were sighs. Cheers. Oohs and aahs. Joyful sobs.

  “This is a great day for all true children of Medasia,” called Porphyra, her voice ringing bright as the noon sun across the sea. “On this day we reclaim our land. Our crown! Our queen!”

  Now only cheers, as Porphyra placed the crown onto Moppe’s curly head of hair. As it settled onto her brow, her eyes caught mine, and for one moment she looked as panicked and uncertain as she had on Mermaid Rock, trying to transfigure me from a dolphin back into my human form. I wanted to run forward and tear the crown from her head, to cast it back into the waves, to save her from the weight of all these expectations. She was just a girl!

  But this was no nightmare to be broken by a spell. This was real.

  I must have made some movement, because the hawk-boy snapped briskly to attention, giving me a warning look and taking a step to block my route to the helm. I glowered at him, but by the time I could see Moppe again, her expression had turned resolute. Porphyra was leading her to the prow of the ship.

  The Victory bobbed in open waters, just at the mouth of the bay that held Port Meda. “Three ships coming from the port,” called the lookout. “Two sloops and a heavy frigate. Looks like the Thorn. They’re signaling us to surrender.”

  “Send back our refusal,” called Porphyra. “And a demand that they retreat.”

  One of the rebels who had been standing ready with a half-dozen different-colored flags began sweeping them through the air in precise patterns, signaling the response. Porphyra returned her attention to Moppe.

  “Go on,” she said. “Call the drake. Let them see what they’ll face if they don’t heed our warning.”

  “Moppe,” I called, unable to help myself. “Don’t do it! You’re going to start a war!”

  “We didn’t start this,” snapped Porphyra. “They did.”

  Moppe met my gaze for a heartbeat, one hand raised to the crown. Hope fluttered in my throat, making it hard to breathe. But her fingers tightened, gripping the crown to keep it firmly in place as she spun round to face the sea.