by Elly Blake
“Hmm.” He gave a careless shrug. “After our initiation, then. You can’t argue we deserve a celebration.”
“Sounds… perfect.” At least that wasn’t a lie. It did sound perfect. I just wouldn’t be here to join him.
Maybe he heard the longing in my voice. He gave me a sidelong look and said, “I know you probably don’t feel like celebrating. You’re worried about him.”
I stopped. “You mean Arcus? You don’t have to dance around it, you know.” And yet, I couldn’t meet his eyes.
He extinguished the flame with a snap. “Maybe I’d prefer not to say the bastard’s name.”
“He’s never done anything to you.” I resumed my descent of the stairs.
He caught up to me and put a hand over his heart, gazing skyward dramatically. “Except steal your affection.”
How I hoped that gesture wasn’t genuine. The thought of hurting Kai made me sick. Covering my worry, I slid him a mocking glance. “Are you sure you should be covering your heart? Maybe you should cover your coin purse instead.”
“How insulting. But perhaps you’re right.” A mischievous smile curved his sculpted lips. “There are some things I value more than my heart.”
“I don’t even want to guess what part of your anatomy you’re referring to.”
He laughed heartily, and I relaxed, glad my attempt to diffuse the tension had worked.
He took my hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow as we reached the south tower. A few courtiers passed, looking at us curiously and whispering as we disappeared around a corner. I could only imagine the gossip we inspired. At least no one was sending me hateful glances or trying to trip me as I passed. This wasn’t the Frost Court.
“I just want you to be happy,” Kai said with a note of sincerity that touched my heart. “As I am right now, knowing we’ve passed our trials. And instead, you’re moping over your Frostblood…friend.” His tone had taken on a bitter tinge.
I was sure he’d intended to use a different word. His censure raised my ire. “Forgive me for having feelings.”
“Oh, you never have to apologize for that. Only for the fact that they aren’t for your betrothed.” He looked down at me, making a woeful expression. “I’ll have to find a way to ease the pain.” He sounded so tragic that I had a moment of panic, until he added meditatively, “Perhaps the soft arms and softer bosom of a tavern wench… or two… will provide the necessary cure for my melancholy.”
I made a dismissive sound to hide my relief. “The day you suffer from melancholy is the day I become quiet and biddable.”
“So, never.”
I grinned. “Precisely.”
We climbed the tower stairs and reached the throne room doors. I turned to Kai, suddenly nervous. “You don’t think she’d execute me in there, do you?”
“No, she would definitely take you out on the balcony for that. She wouldn’t risk blood on the tapestries.”
“Funny.” I flapped a hand in a “later” gesture and entered the room. The Frostblood servant I’d seen before lifted a tapestry to reveal a door tucked into a corner of the wall behind the throne. To my surprise, the door led to an anteroom, where the queen waited. The space was small but inviting, with upholstered divans, large pillows scattered over the floor, and stained glass windows that tinted the sunlight. Lanterns with elaborately worked metal covers sat on polished tables in dark wood.
I sat across from the queen, my expression smooth, my hands loosely clasped, everything about me screaming dutiful princess and niece.
If I’d thought there was a chance of convincing her to let Arcus go, I would have argued until my throat was raw. But pleading or arguing would only make her suspicious of my intentions. Besides, I didn’t think I could plead his case without losing my temper when she inevitably refused.
It was vital that I keep my wits during this meeting. If I lost the queen’s trust, she might decide to have me guarded or followed, which could hamper my search for the book. If she suspected I was planning to break Arcus out, she could increase the guards on his room, or move him to the prison. I needed her to think I had come to accept her word as law.
As we made small talk over tea, her attitude was more conciliatory than I’d expected. However, a calculated retreat could precede an attack.
“How do you like my little sanctuary?” she asked, taking a delicate sip.
“It’s lovely,” I replied.
She smiled, smoothing the edge of a velvet cushion. “Prince Eiko and I often spend an hour or two here after we are finished with the demands of the day. When he hasn’t disappeared onto the tower roof to observe the stars, that is.”
“Oh yes, I remember you saying he had an observatory.” I had a sudden memory of Lord Ustathius berating Marella for spending her nights on the roof looking at the stars. I wondered if the queen took exception to her consort’s pastime.
“Indeed. He stays up many nights watching the moon and planets and stars, charting their movements and making maps. It is his passion and I appreciate that, even though it means he often sleeps during the day when I am occupied with matters of state.”
I reached out and picked up my teacup, taking a small sip. The mood was more mellow than I was used to with the queen. I realized this was the first time we’d been alone together. I found myself asking a question I hadn’t had the courage to voice before. “What was your sister like when she was young?”
Her brows rose in surprise. “Why do you want to know? I was under the impression you were still unsure about your heritage.”
“I’d like to know if your sister sounds anything like the mother I knew.”
She nodded. “You remind me of her in some ways.”
My heart squeezed, even as I told myself I might not be who she thought I was. Still, I couldn’t help but ask, “How?”
“You are… idealistic. Passionate.” Her lips curved. “I, too, am passionate. As you may have noticed.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth and I smiled in response. “But in a different way. I am passionate about large things: my islands, my kingdom, my people as a whole. I was raised to ask myself what is best for them. What will benefit the greatest number of people? These questions have allowed me to make difficult decisions time and time again. I need to make judgments that hurt people sometimes.” Her smile fell away. “I need to be brutal.”
I saw the proof in her eyes. They were hard as polished granite—dark and cold, despite her inner fire. Languidly, she reached out and lit the lantern on the table next to her with her fingertips, the light shining prettily through the filigree cover.
“Your mother,” she said, returning her gaze to me, “she cared for small things. Things I was taught to see as insignificant: an injured bird, a lame horse, a peasant child carrying too heavy a load. I chastised her for it. I told her that if anything happened to me, she would have to rule, that if she didn’t harden her heart, the throne would break her.”
“So you believe that the throne was—”
She added, “Not the throne literally, you understand. The responsibility. The crown and all that comes with it.” But I noticed she didn’t meet my eyes. Did she know about the curse?
“Is that why she left? She didn’t think she could rule if it came down to it?”
“I don’t think she left for that reason, though I can’t be sure. I’ve pondered this question for years, you see. The only thing I can recall that gave some clue to her state of mind was a comment she made when you were first born. She said… she said she’d had a vision. A woman with golden eyes had come to her in a dream and warned her that you were in danger remaining here. When I questioned her about it later, she made light of it and would tell me no more. She never confided in you? I’d hoped you could illuminate her reasons for leaving.”
“She told me nothing.” Not about Sudesia, nor the fact that she was royalty. Nothing about Sage, who had come to her in a dream the same way she’d come to me in visions. I tried not to feel anger at the thought of al
l she’d kept from me.
Assuming that I really was Queen Nalani’s niece. My mother wasn’t a Fireblood. I would have known if she was. Still, it was hard not to be drawn in by the queen’s certainty.
Queen Nalani sighed. “You were only about a year old when she left. It was something of a scandal when she wouldn’t reveal who your father was. But Rota had no reason to take you from us. I was furious with her. It was a betrayal of her identity, of our parents. Of me.”
“Your parents.” I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. “If your sister was my mother, then your mother would be my grandmother.”
Her brows arched upward. “Do you wish to know more about Queen Pirra?”
“No. Well, yes. I knew my grandmother—my mother’s mother. But her name was Lucina. She helped my mother with healing sometimes and came to visit often.”
“That’s not possible.”
I grew insistent. “She brought me books, told me stories—even about you. She taught me to use my gift, even when my mother disapproved. She died when I was nine. Could… could your mother have known where we were? Could she have visited us in secret?”
“I meant it’s not possible that the woman you knew was your grandmother.” She set her cup down. “My mother died five years after Rota left, when you would have been six years old. I was there when the pyre was lit. I saw her return to flame.”
I stared at the flickering lantern, thinking. A Fireblood funeral sounded so different from the short, cold one my mother and I had for Grandmother when we’d heard of her death. The memory brought me up short. I’d never seen Grandmother’s body. Mother had received a message from a distant cousin that Grandmother had died while visiting them. Not that it mattered. If Queen Pirra had died when I was six, she couldn’t have been Lucina, who died three years later.
“But still,” I reasoned, “this is proof that I’m not your niece. My maternal grandmother was not your mother.”
“It only means that your mother lied to you. Perhaps Rota felt guilty that she had taken you from your family, so she created a false one.”
“She wouldn’t have lied to me.”
“She lied to you all your life. You didn’t even know she was a Fireblood. You don’t even know your name.”
My head snapped up. “What’s my—I mean, your niece’s— name?”
“Your name is Lali. It means ‘Ruby’ in the old tongue.”
I could only stare.
She sat back, her lip twitching up on one side. “Now you see why I wondered about you from the first.”
“It still doesn’t make sense,” I said quietly. “My mother’s skin was cool compared to mine.”
“Rota had exceptional control of her gift. She could suppress her heat.”
“Even in her sleep? She used to cuddle next to me for warmth on the coldest nights. I’m telling you, it doesn’t make sense. She didn’t use her fire to defend me when the soldiers came! She would have done anything to defend me. I know that much.”
Queen Nalani shook her head. “That I cannot explain. So much of this is still unknown, and will never be known. It eats at me, Ruby. I hate not knowing why she left. I wish I could talk to her just one more time.”
“I wish that, too,” I said hoarsely. How I’d wished that. More times than I could count.
“Can you begin to understand how her disappearance tore at me? She didn’t trust me enough to tell me where she was going. For a short time, I even suspected her of treason. Our father died of grief within months—she was always his favorite. Then I had to take the throne. In the midst of all that, some of the outlying islands rebelled and I wondered if she was behind the uprising, if she had played the reluctant princess when she really wanted to be queen. But there was no trace of her. Nothing.”
I shook my head, unable to cast my mother in the light of power-hungry usurper. I didn’t understand how Queen Nalani could ever have suspected that. It was almost as if she hadn’t known my mother at all. Or maybe I hadn’t.
Either way, her grief was real. I could see it in the tightness around her eyes, the brittle slant of her mouth. For the first time, I experienced a flutter of pity for the proud queen.
As she caught me staring, her gaze hardened. “So, I’m sure you’ll understand why trust is such a delicate and precious thing to me, Ruby. It’s important to me that when I ask you a question, you answer honestly.”
Nervous heat flooded my veins. “You can ask me anything.” Whether I would answer honestly was another matter. I couldn’t reveal anything about my plans.
“My soldiers have combed the island twice over and can’t find the Frostblood ship. I want you to tell me where it is.”
The blunt words cleaved the veneer of warm reminiscences like an axe. “How would I know that?”
“Come, now. You spoke alone with the king for a quarter of an hour. Surely he told you things. He trusts you, does he not?”
I took another sip of tea, concentrating hard on keeping my hand steady. “Not with everything.”
“But he did trust you with that.”
Always be aware of your surroundings. Never let yourself be maneuvered onto dangerous ground. Who had told me that? Brother Thistle? Kai?
Arcus. After backing me into a fish pond. The memory came fresh and vivid. I could still feel the lily pads brushing against my skin, feel my fury as he stood, untouched and superior, on dry ground.
Well, clearly I hadn’t learned. The queen had softened me up, made me lower my defenses by sharing fond memories of my mother, and then backed me into quicksand. When cornered, there was no choice but to attack.
“If you expected me to interrogate your prisoner, why did you send Kai to drag me away?”
“I sent him for your protection,” she replied smoothly.
“I doubt that. You know the king is no danger to me.”
“I know no such thing. His brother—”
“He’s nothing like his brother. I wish you’d believe me.”
She took another sip of tea. “You may believe what you’re saying is true. Tell me this, then. How many ships are on their way?”
“No more ships. There’s only the one.”
“Why did the king come himself? Why risk the journey? He wouldn’t come on a simple scouting mission.”
“As he told you, it wasn’t a scouting mission. He thought I was in danger. He came for me.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat.
She put her cup down with a rattle. “The Frostblood king. Came all the way here. For you.”
“Kai tried to tell you how much he cares for me when we first arrived in your court. I know it might sound far-fetched, but—”
“He had no reason to think you were in danger. There was no time for me to send him any message. So, what drew him here?” Her hand cut the air in an angry gesture. “Did he plan to kill me? Although he could simply have hired an assassin…” She shook her head. “If what he says is true and he received a letter, he could have sent messengers to procure my confirmation first.”
“He did send a messenger ship to invite you to diplomatic talks. It never returned home.”
She sat back, pinning me with a steely-eyed glare. “The masters who guard the strait know better than to let a Tempesian ship through.”
Outrage tightened my hands into fists. “So they destroyed it? The people on that ship were trying to help achieve peace.”
She lifted a shoulder and let it fall, as if one ship full of Tempesians was of little consequence. She leaned forward in her chair. “I couldn’t save the Firebloods who died under Rasmus’s bloody rule, but I will avenge them.”
Steel bands wrapped around my lungs, squeezing. “What do you mean?”
She pinned me with her eyes, as if deciding in this exact moment whether or not to trust me. “We’ve been building ships, training soldiers. Recruiting men and women from the outlying islands. In a few months’ time, we’ll start by destroying their navy. Then when the Frostbloods are scrambling, w
e’ll be ready to invade.”
A tremor ripped through my body. Her plans to attack by sea were one thing, but a land invasion would be suicide. I couldn’t help but think back to King Rasmus, who had also taken foolish risks in his military campaigns.
“The king must have heard of my plans somehow,” she continued, “and he decided to strike first. I just cannot figure out why he came himself.”
“You are so, so wrong about this,” I said hoarsely. “Talk to the king. Not an interrogation. Just speak to him. Discuss this as the rational people that you are. He would never do what you’re saying. He has no desire to conquer you or anyone else.”
She watched me keenly. “He hasn’t told you anything, then.” She sagged backward into the chair ever so slightly. “I think you are telling me the truth. You know nothing.”
I leaned forward urgently. “I know that he would never do what you’re suggesting.”
She swept my assertions away with one manicured hand. “You are no use to me in this. I am disappointed. I must find another way to discover his plans, starting by questioning the king himself.” She nodded, as if she’d asked and answered a question in her mind. “After your initiation, I will persuade him to see reason.”
My blood heated further. “You’re not listening to me. I don’t want—”
“You may go, Ruby. I will see you tomorrow.”
Gripped with anger at her cool dismissal, I spoke before I could consider my words. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Her head turned slowly, tension straining her jaw. “What precisely do you mean, child?”
I couldn’t let my temper get the better of me. I needed to negotiate. What did I have to bargain with?
She believed I was the princess. That was leverage.
“Who am I to you?” I demanded.
She swept me with an irritated glance. “You are my niece. My heir.”
“I assume you have much to teach me and many things you want me to do in my new role. You want me to be willing to do those things, don’t you? You want me to be loyal, but you also want that loyalty to be genuine. Am I wrong?”
