Bitterblue

Helda narrowed her eyes. 'I see.'

'He's a friend, Helda,' Bitterblue said hopelessly. 'Except that on the way out, he stole the crown.'

Settling herself more firmly into her chair, Helda said again, dryly, 'I see.'

'I can't see with my eyes,' Po said to Helda, perhaps a bit out of the blue, thrusting a hand through his soggy hair. 'I believe you've gathered the rest, but if you're to know the whole truth, I should tell you I lost my eyesight eight years ago.'

Helda opened her mouth; closed it.

'I sense things,' Po went on. 'Not just thoughts, but objects, bodies, force, momentum, the world around me, and so my blindness, much of the time, is not the hindrance it would otherwise be. But it's the reason I can't read. I can't see color; the world is gray shapes. The sun and moon are too far away for me to sense and I can't see light.'

Still working her mouth, Helda reached into her pocket for a handkerchief, which she handed to Bitterblue. After a moment, she extracted another handkerchief, then set to folding it precisely, as if matching corner to corner were the day's most critical task. When she pressed it to her lips, then dabbed her eyes, Po's head dropped. 'Regarding the crown,' he said, clearing his throat. 'They seemed to be heading east, perhaps toward the silver docks, before I lost them.'

'Did you go to the shop?'

'I don't know the location of the shop, Bitterblue. No one's thought the map straight at me. Do it yourself and I'll go there now.'

'No,' she said, 'I'll go.'

'I don't advise that.'

'I must.'

'Bitterblue,' Po said, beginning to lose his patience, 'I advised you against meeting him the first time and he stole your crown. What do you think he'll do the second time?'

'But if I keep trying—'

'While I stand outside ready to come bursting in to cover for you when he, oh, I don't know, gets it into his head to drag you into the street and start screaming that the boy in the hood is really the queen of the kingdom? I don't have time for this, Bitterblue, and I don't have the energy to keep straightening your tangles!'

White-lipped, Bitterblue rose to her feet. 'Shall I stop straightening your tangles, then, too, Po? How often do I lie for your sake? How often did you lie to me in the first years of our acquaintance? You, who are immune to being lied to yourself. How inconvenient it must be when you have to complicate your peace by lying for the sake of others.'

'Sometimes,' Po said with bitterness, 'you are utterly without pity.'

'I'd say you've enough pity for yourself,' said Bitterblue. 'You, of all people, should understand my need for Saf's forgiveness. What I've done to him, you do to everyone all the time. Help me or don't help me; fine. But don't talk to me as if I'm a child who trips around carelessly making messes. There are situations in my city and my kingdom that you know nothing about.' Then she sat down again, suddenly, dismal and deflated. 'Oh, Po,' she said, dropping her face into her hands. 'I'm sorry. Please, give me your advice. What should I say to him? What do you say when you've hurt someone with a lie?'

Po was quiet for a moment. Then he almost seemed to be laughing, mournfully, under his breath. 'I apologize.'

'Yes, I've done that,' Bitterblue said, her mind running through the horrible conversation she'd had with Saf. Then running through it again. 'Oh.' She stared at Po in dismay. 'I never once said I was sorry.'

'You must,' Po said, gently now. 'Beyond that, you must tell him as much of the truth as you possibly can. You must ensure, by whatever means necessary, that he doesn't use it to ruin you. And then you must let him be as angry as he'll be. That's what I do.'

And so I must throw myself into my own guilt, and into the hatred of a person I've grown fond of.

Bitterblue contemplated her ruined cuticles. She was beginning to better understand, starkly, Po's crisis. Leaning into him, she touched her head to his shoulder. He put a wet arm around her and held on.

'Helda,' Bitterblue said, 'how long do you think we can keep everyone from noticing that the crown is missing?'

Helda pursed her lips. 'A good long time,' she decided with a staunch nod. 'I don't anticipate anyone caring about the crown until your uncle's visit, do you, Lady Queen? It's only your spies, your servants, your Council friends, and I in these rooms, and of those, it's only one or two of the servants I'd rather not trust. I'll construct something and throw a cloth over the cushion so it looks like nothing's amiss.'

'Don't forget that it depends on Saf as well,' Po said. 'He's perfectly capable of making it known citywide in any number of ways that your crown is not where it should be, Bitterblue, and plenty of people saw him and me walking to your rooms together after the trial.'

Bitterblue sighed. She supposed it was the sort of thing he would do, if he were angry enough. 'We've got to find out who framed him for the murder,' she said.

'Yes,' Po said. 'That's an important question. Let me go confront him about the crown, won't you? Please? I'll see if I can learn anything about the framing as well. I also think I should talk to that false witness, don't you agree?'

'Yes. All right.' Bitterblue let go of him, sighing. 'I'll stay here. I've some things I need to think through. Helda, will you continue to chase my advisers away?'

IN HER BEDROOM, she paced.

Could Saf really, truly, honestly think I'm behind the silencing of the truthseekers? Behind all of it? When I ran with him over the roofs? When I brought Madlen to them! Could he honestly—

Numbly, she sat on the chest, pulling hairpins out. Could he honestly think I would want misfortune to befall him?

Massaging her scalp, working her newly freed hair into a rat's nest, she found herself at a panicky dead end with that question. She had no control over what Saf thought.

He said that I don't see what I've done or how high I am in the world. That I marooned him. He said we've never been friends, never been equals.

Crossing to the vanity where she sat when Helda did her hair, Bitterblue threw her hairpins into a silver bowl and glared into the mirror. Sunken circles stood like bruises under her eyes, and her forehead, still raw from the attack last night, was purple and grisly. Behind her was reflected the enormity of the room, the bed high and big enough to be a dining table for all her friends, the silver, gold, scarlet walls. The dark ceiling dotted with stars. Fox, or someone, must clean away my cobwebs, she thought. Someone must care for this beautiful rug.

Bitterblue thought of the printing shop, messy and bright. She thought of the apartments behind, small enough to fit into this room, tidy, walls and floors made of rough-hewn wood. She looked in the mirror at her own gown of pale gray silk, perfectly fitted, beautifully tailored, and thought of Saf's rougher clothing, the places where his sleeve-ends frayed. She remembered how fond he was of Leck's gold pocket watch. She remembered the choker she had pawned without a second thought, barely caring how much money it made her.

She did not think that they were poor. They had work, they had food, they threw sparkling parties. But she supposed that she didn't really know what poor would look like, if she saw it. Would she recognize it? And if they weren't poor, what were they? How did it work, to live in the city? Did they pay someone rent? Who decided how much things cost? Did they pay taxes to the crown that were a strain on them?

Somewhat uncomfortable now, Bitterblue returned to her mother's chest, sat down, and forced herself to touch the edges of the question of just how, exactly, she had marooned Saf. What if the situation were reversed? What if she were the commoner and it had turned out that Saf was the king? Would she have been left marooned?

It was nearly impossible for her to conceive of such a situation. In fact, it was flatly absurd. But then she began to wonder if her inability even to imagine it had to do with her being too high to see that low, as Saf had said.

For some reason, her mind kept returning to the night Saf and she had taken a route along the silver docks. They'd talked of pirates and treasure hunting, and they'd run past the looming ships of the queen. The ships had