Free Nightshade City by Hilary Wagner

luck. The boys were dizzy with the barrage of outstretched paws and new faces.
    Vincent, standing with Victor and Juniper, assessed the room, soaking it all in. He felt exceedingly—good. Strangely, the invisible cloud that had hung over him for so many years suddenly dissolved.
    The Council disappeared through various doors within Bostwick Hall, emerging with wooden barrels filled with Carro ale and Oshi wine, and rolled them towards the center of the room. Cole’s wife, Lali, and some helpers darted round the room, carrying out small wooden crates filled with mismatched mugs and dishes. They then dashed to the open kitchen, which lined the back of the great hall, wielding heavy trays filled with salted meats, cheeses, and fresh-baked biscuits.
    A group of older rats gathered in the center of the room. One whistled, another struck a drum, and the rest began to sing a jaunty song, a melody revived from the days of Trilok. Onlookers werestomping to the rhythm as couples started dancing in time with the lively vocals. The children chased one another, whizzing around the hall, tackling one another, and landing in a heap of legs and tails, giggling riotously.
    A young female rat with pale blond fur and dark eyes approached Juniper, her gaze wandering toward Victor. “Why, Petra, how are you, my dear?” asked Juniper. She reached up to Juniper’s ear, so he bent down and met her halfway. She cupped her tiny paw around his ear and whispered something in a soft little chatter. “Well, why don’t we ask him?” Juniper looked in Victor’s direction. “Victor, Petra would like to know if you would be so kind as to have a dance with her.” Vincent snickered as he watched his baby brother turn to jelly, his charcoal skin turning a flushed indigo.
    “Well—yes,” he said, trying not to stammer. “I would like to dance. Petra, is it? I’m Victor.”
    “I know,” said Petra in a high little voice. She grabbed Victor’s paw quite confidently and pulled him out with the other dancing couples. Victor and Petra moved well together, despite the obvious size difference, her little blond head barely reaching his chin. Victor grinned from ear to ear.
    “Now, Vincent, come walk with me,” said Juniper. “There are a lot of important rats who want to meet you. Rats who knew your father well. Rats who will be expecting you to follow in his footsteps. Let’s do some introductions, and then I’ll give you a tour of our city. I should say Nightshade City, your father’s city—and yours.”
    It was late. Clover lay in her parents’ nest, agitated, twitching under the covers, unable to sleep after the distressing visit from Billycan. She’d lost all hope that Juniper could retrieve her before the Grand Speech. Her uncle had a whole city of rats counting on him, not just her.
    Her thoughts shifted to Killdeer. She imagined standing by his side at the speech, wondering what his hot breath would reek of. She shivered, revolted by the thought. She twisted and turned, trying to force herself into slumber. Clover beat the covers in frustration. The Collector’s threats echoed in her head, hounding her.
    Jerking herself up, she leaned limply against the wall. She stared at an etching of the late High Duchess Nomi, the wife of Minister Trilok, carved into the opposing wall. Deeply saddened by her passing, Clover’s mother had carved the picture as a memorial of sorts. They had been dear friends and confidantes. The aging duchess had no children of her own and showered affection on Clover, who was barely a toddler at the time of Nomi’s death.
    A rapid, determined knocking on the door startled Clover. Who could it be at this hour? She crept to the door, waiting for the scraping of Billycan’s club, but heard nothing. “Who’s there?” she whispered.
    The rat on the other side of the door responded brightly, in a cordial, almost operatic tone. “Hello, dear, it’s Mother Gallo, Mistress of the Robes to the High Ministry. I’ve