A bemused expression settled on Gideon’s face, but whether it was a response to Tereza’s question, or the pet name, I couldn’t tell. “Yes, my lady. She has certainly commanded my attention this evening.”
Blood rushed into my cheeks. In other circumstances, I would have shoved an elbow into Gideon’s ribs. If I’d had full use of my powers, I might have given him a little shock, a harmless electrical discharge. Instead, I bore Tereza’s laughter and made silent promises to find a way to repay Gideon later—perhaps a swift kick to his shin beneath the dinner table.
Having properly disrupted my equilibrium—which may have been her plan from the start—Tereza moved on to her newly arrived guests, and Otokar glided to her side like a silent, dark shade. “Clément,” she said, disregarding the comté’s title. She offered her hand, and he kissed her fingers. “Nous sommes très heureux que vous ayez pu venir nous parler.”
“It’s wonderful you could join us,” Gideon whispered in my ear. “Typical pleasantries and politeness. More introductions.”
I glared at him, and he flinched. “Don’t tease me.” I leaned close so my words wouldn’t carry to the others. “You know I’m out of my element. Don’t make it worse.”
“What are you talking about?”
I was talking about him saying I commanded his attention, but bringing it up would make things more awkward, so I waved off his question. “Never mind.”
He grabbed my flapping hand. “Don’t ‘never mind’ me. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“It’s just my nerves. I’m being overly sensitive.”
Briefly he squeezed my arm. “You have as much right to be here as anyone. Take confidence in that.”
“I’d almost rather face Lord Daeg again. At least he didn’t put on airs.”
The muscles around Gideon’s eyes tightened. “Not funny, Evie.”
“I wasn’t joking.” Fighting for my life I could handle. Fighting for my country was another thing altogether, especially without the confidence of my powers to bolster me. Perhaps I’d made a mistake, coming out from the shadows so soon. But how else could I find my thunder?
Tereza finished greeting her guests, and the footman announced the start of dinner.
“Won’t the princess be joining us?” the comté asked as we filed toward the dining room.
Not a flinch, not a hitch in her graceful gait gave away Tereza’s true feelings. “I am afraid she is feeling unwell and will not be joining us tonight.”
The comté sucked his tooth, making a disappointed noise, but said nothing more. I squinted at him, studying his face for any subtle expression. Did he suspect the truth? Did he know something more about Karolina’s disappearance than he let on?
Gideon drew out my chair before easing into a seat beside me. If I could’ve had the choice of any companion that evening, it would have been him. His presence eased my anxiety, no matter how much I might have preferred to deny it.
One servant poured wine as another set plates before us, oysters with tomato relish. Gideon glanced at me and arched an eyebrow. I offered a limp smile and sucked down the shellfish as though it were a spoonful of castor oil. Ignoring the wine, I drained my water glass.
“Lady Thunder,” said Deline, the comté’s wife. “What do you think of Bonhemm?”
I set down my glass and dabbed my lips with my napkin. “It’s lovely. The countryside is lush, and Prigha is an amazing city, ancient and modern at the same time.”
“Is it much different from Inselgrau?”
Of all the topics, we could have discussed, Deline had asked me about my home, a subject about which I was most knowledgeable and comfortable. I exhaled and sent a quick prayer of thanks for the hours I’d sat in the library reading of Inselgrau’s history and listening to my father expound on all the ways he wished our country could improve.
“Inselgrau has always been cut off from the Continent.” I knotted my fingers in my lap and swallowed, urging my voice not to crack. “Inselgrau is an island. We’re detached from the rest of the world, which has kept us isolated, culturally speaking. Perhaps that’s what kept the people’s faith in the Stormbournes so strong for so many years. It’s probably the reason why my father was the last of the elemental gods still in power. There was almost no outside influence to taint the people’s faith.”
I paused, realizing I’d gone on a bit of a diatribe, but the others all stared, their gazes intent as though the things I said were interesting. Clearing my throat, I continued. “That lack of exchange in information and knowledge has handicapped us, too. Inselgrau’s technology is outdated, our industry is underdeveloped, our academies focus more on tradition than on innovation. I’m not sure any nation can thrive if it cannot evolve.” And perhaps that explained so much about how I arrived at my current situation. Certainly Lord Daeg and Le Poing Fermé had much to do with it, but I might not have been in my present state if they hadn’t perceived Inselgrau and its royal family as an easy target.
The comté cleared his throat and readjusted his spectacles. “Is that something you wish to change when you return home?”
If I return home, I thought. “I would certainly like to see Inselgrau prosper. If the country can manage that while retaining its traditions, that would be ideal.”
The comté smirked. “Because without tradition, without the faith of your people, you’d have no mandate to rule them, correct?”
Beside me, Gideon shifted in his chair. “Forgive me, my lord, but where is the source of authority of any ruler? Even without divine right, wouldn’t a king or queen’s authority to rule still rely on the devotion of their people? Otherwise, there would be lawlessness and chaos.”
Gideon and I had never truly discussed my suitability as a ruler. We’d been too busy trying to survive. Now, his opinion mattered to me more than anything.
“And your point is?” The comté waved, motioning for Gideon to continue. Around us the rest of our party had fallen silent, everyone’s attention focusing on me and my companion.
Gideon turned and locked his eyes on me. A surprising passion burned in his stare. “Evie doesn’t need the people to worship her as a goddess. She’s a queen to her marrow. With or without the storms, she’s capable of leading with her intelligence and intrepidness alone.”
Laughter rang out from the opposite end of the table. Tereza clapped. “Indeed, Gideon! And what a consort you would be at her side. The two of you would make a, em...daunting pair.”
I blushed and dropped my gaze, wishing my physiology would stop betraying my discomfort. Who could take a leader seriously when she blushed so easily?
“A toast.” Otokar raised his wineglass. “To the intrepid queen of Inselgrau, and her formidable warrior.”
Everyone, except Gideon and I, raised their glasses. Somehow, I felt more like the butt of a joke than an honored guest. “Cheers,” said the comté without much conviction.
Echoes of cheers went around the room. The awkward moment passed, and the dinner conversation turned to something other than me and the state of Inselgrau. Gideon reached for my hand beneath the table and squeezed my fingers. “I meant every word, Evie.”
“I’m glad you’re so convinced.” I licked one finger and stroked the air as if making a mark upon an invisible slate. “One down. Four million to go...”
“Four million?”
“The general population of Inselgrau, the last time anyone counted.”
