While I might have interpreted the words themselves as a threat, coming from the queen’s mouth, they sounded more like an invitation.

Guilt twanged in my chest at that thought. I’d given her every reason to despise me, yet she was still trying to get along with me.

“To be quite honest, I would have much preferred your gown to this…” I gestured to my garment. “Whatever this is called. You wouldn’t believe the tribulations Imogen and I faced trying to get it on.”

At that, a genuine laugh threatened the wrinkles next to the queen’s sparkling eyes. “I can only imagine.”

The room went quiet, and I felt pressure to keep engaging this female in conversation, lest the opportunity slip away from me. If I were to be her daughter-in-law, stuck in this palace for the rest of my life, I figured it would make life easier if we got along.

She’d never make up for my mother, of course, whom I missed desperately. There was even a pang of guilt in my chest for even attempting to befriend the queen, like I was betraying my mother.

But no, Mother would want me to make the best of an unpleasant situation, so I would.

I could sense the moment fleeing, slipping from my fingertips, so I grasped at the only bit of conversation starter I could find in the vicinity.

I nodded at the pieces of paper on the table. “What were you studying when I interrupted you? You seemed pleased with yourself.”

The queen gestured for me to join her side, and I did. The scent of cloves and cinnamon wafted over me as I approached.

Were the fae obsessed with perfume, or did they just come out of the womb bearing their own unique and lovely scents?

Good gracious, just standing next to her gave me the urge to flee back to my rooms and bathe in scented oils, though I’d done so just this morning.

“This,” she said, pointing to the paper, “is my cheat sheet.”

“I thought the fae had near-perfect memory.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, is that another thing humans have made up about us? They act like we’re mystical beings.”

“Well, you did enter Alondria from another realm,” I said, then as her expression soured, added more meekly, “didn’t you?”

“I suppose we did, waltzing into another world like we owned the place.” She rolled her eyes, which shocked me a bit. Was that disapproval I sensed in her voice?

“I suppose you do own the place now,” I said.

She met my gaze. “Yes, I suppose we do.” Her attention returned to the sheet of paper. “Regardless of what the humans make up about us, no, we do not have perfect memory. Which becomes quite the struggle when one lives for centuries. Especially as a queen, when I’m expected to remember the names of a lord and lady I met one time three dozen decades ago.”

Even the idea made me want to scratch at my throat, like it was giving me hives.

“So was born the cheat sheet,” she said, flourishing at the neatly scribed parchment. Then, with a mischievous glance I’d only ever seen on the face of her son, she said, “After I accidentally mistook a minor lord’s wife for his mistress and called her by the mistress’s name.”

My hand found my mouth as I tried to stifle the bout of laughter.

“No need to hide your amusement on my account, my dear. I was not the one who went home to an empty bed that night.” Again, that pleased look crossed her face. Was…was the quiet, austere queen making a joke about… “Still, while I wasn’t sorely disappointed in myself for exposing the lord’s indiscretions, I decided I’d rather not do so on accident in the future. The wife was quite upset. It would have been better for her to discover it in private…” The queen frowned at the memory, then quickly straightened. She pointed to the column on the left of the page before reciting the intention of each. “Here’s the list of each person’s name. This is a record of their physical description…much easier with fae than humans. Oh, I can hardly recognize the human ambassadors after a decade of not seeing them. It’s mortifying and I’ve yet to come up with an adequate system for it. And here is where I keep my less than pleasant tidbits of information: affairs, scandals, that sort of thing… I know you’re probably thinking I’m horrible, keeping people’s darkest secrets here, but I try not to use them unless it’s absolutely necessary. They mostly keep me from treading on topics that are uncomfortable and might inhibit trade relations if brought up. You must think me horrible,” she repeated.

“No,” I muttered, half flabbergasted, half in awe. “No, I don’t think that at all. I think it’s…” Diabolical? Wonderful? Beautifully organized and intentional and plotted and… “Strategic. I think it’s strategic. That has to be a vital part of being a queen, is it not?”

A pleased smile crossed her pursed lips. “Indeed.”

I wondered then how many beings she’d shown these records to. Likely very few.

I wasn’t sure whether to be honored or debilitatingly horrified, or a little bit of both.

“Oh, and lest you think me a gossip-mongerer, I do keep the pleasant things too. People—human and fae alike—respond well when you take the effort to remember something specific about them. It doesn’t even have to be anything profound or amazing. Even a simple recollection that they prefer a specific sauce with their vegetables can go a long way.”

“A long way toward what?” I asked.

Again, that naughty grin that strikingly resembled her son shone on her face. “Anything you need it to, my dear.”

It showed a great deal of self-restraint on my part that I didn’t break out a notepad a quarter of the way through the luncheon and start scribbling notes furiously.

What I had expected from this luncheon was a droning lull of idle chatter, vain gossip, and the endless discussion of whose offspring had recently procreated.

What I got—well, it was still all those things, but underneath the innocuous talk of familial relations and upcoming styles was a battlefield of wits and wagers, and the queen was at the head of the fray.

“Oh, Your Majesty, you remembered my sensitivity to wheat,” said the Duchess of Cornwraith as she peered with delight down at a plate that to me, looked very sad indeed without the rolls I’d had to force myself not to devour in one bite.

I also had to fight suspicion from creeping onto my brow, as it seemed quite unlikely to me that beings as healthy as the fae would have food sensitivities.

If the queen was also suspicious, she did not let it show on her face. I’d come to realize it was a mask, carefully crafted over the centuries to be whatever the queen needed in the moment.

I silently encouraged my eyebrows to take notes.

“How could I forget, after that lovely dinner you and the duke hosted at your manor?” the queen said. “I came home and straight away asked my cook if he could recreate that salad simply from my description. Though arrowroot is difficult to get in the city. I inquired, and it seems your province is the only one in all of Alondria where the conditions are right to grow it. I suppose that’s why you can charge so much,” she said with a wink in her eye.

The duchess nodded smugly.

“Though I have heard Charshon produces it as well, though I can’t imagine it’s of better quality. We at the castle can afford yours, of course. But I hate that the people of Dwellen can never seem to get their hands on it, and I suppose even a lesser quality crop from Charshon is better than nothing.”

The duchess’s smile faltered a bit, then quickly regained its brilliance. “Oh, far be it from us. There’s no reason for your merchants to exert themselves and waste a trip to Charshon for their lesser quality crops. I can assure you, my husband would sooner keel over than have Charshon of all places beat us out in trade. And you’ve been so kind to us, I’m sure we can manage a special price.”

The queen clapped her hands together, a charming grin lighting up her face. “Oh, that would be delightful. I cannot wait to see the rush of business it will create for the taverns in town. Everyone will be rushing to get a bite of arrowroot salad, though I imagine none could cook it as well as your staff.”

“Indeed, I would think not,” said the duchess.

Duchess of Cornwraith—wheat sensitivity; she and her husband were conned by a lord of Charshon in a trade for corn. Their cook makes the best arrowroot salad.

I had to keep my jaw from dropping.

It had been right there, scrawled in the queen’s carefully organized notes.

I watched in awe as the queen did it again and again. Kind words here, bringing up an old feud there, until half the females at the table had sworn a better price on crops, a lower fare for using their roads, a lower tariff on imported goods. I wondered how many of these females actually had control over such things, with their husbands holding the true power.

The sparkle in the queen’s eyes each time she won one of them over told me they possessed more power than I’d once thought.

Perhaps influence and power were one and the same, after all. Two sides of the same coin.

Only once during the luncheon did the queen seem at a loss for words. She’d been discussing the price of fish with the wife of a coastal lord, and the female, clearly shrewd herself, had reminded the queen that, as theirs was the only fish-heavy coast on this side of the continent, there simply was not enough fish around to lower the prices.