So when the New Maiden playfully teased his stoicism, Sebastien did not laugh with her. Where the New Maiden was unburdened—filled with hope and light—he would never escape the darkness within. She was almost as cruel as his father, for making him wish that he could.
—Psalm of the Second Son
8
Delegates from Kirre, a small state in the southwestern region of the continent, were to dine with the queen at sunset. In the week since she’d met with General Garvey, Elodie had rehearsed her talking points about the overdue tariffs owed by the Kirrish chancellor in hopes that the coin could go directly toward funding the military’s efforts. Yet today, when she ought to be putting the finishing touches on her plea, Elodie was preparing to take half a day’s journey to the Highlands, Velle’s most fertile acreage, where the entirety of the next season’s crops had been drowned.
As she stormed through the corridors on her way to Rob’s chambers, she reviewed for the tenth time the correspondence she’d received over breakfast. The source of the flooding, the Duke of Minvin had hastily penned, is unknown as of yet. But the water had swept all the flowering fruits from their branches, drowned the wheat, and waterlogged the corn. Everything the township was meant to be harvesting was instead drenched and rotting and, according to the duke, emitted a very particular stench that will take at least a season to eradicate.
Strange, he continued, for it has not rained in several months. The only reserves of water nearby are the dams of the Second Republic just beyond the border. These dams have been carefully maintained for centuries. It makes little sense that they would spring a leak.
But Elodie knew this had been no accident.
She burst into her brother’s room without knocking. Rob’s chambers were pristine, so meticulously tidy that the spines of his books were organized by color. It was a strange prism of light dancing around a room that was otherwise devoid of pigment—his bedspread, his furniture, his curtains were all decidedly dark. Stringed instruments hung on the walls like art. A lute leaned against the desk. A piano had been pushed into the corner, the afternoon light illuminating a thin layer of dust across the keys.
Rob was on the floor, surrounded by parchment and bottles of ink. A quill was tucked between his fingers, but instead of scribbling on paper, he was writing in the air. Opposite the prince was Tal, watching Rob speak with a reverence usually reserved for his interactions with Elodie.
“This is why,” Rob was saying, his back to his sister, “the message must be clear. It is not about Him, so much as the possibility He provides. It’s why I—”
Tal coughed pointedly, nudging his chin toward the queen.
At the sight of his sister, Rob fell silent. He swept the pages into a haphazard pile, which he stuffed beneath the sofa. “It’s common courtesy to knock, you know,” he said with a frown.
Elodie waved away his indignation. “Your father needs to see this.” She waved the duke’s correspondence in her brother’s face.
Rob scanned the letter with a frown. “What does my father care about a flood?”
He was being purposely obtuse. “This has Edgar’s name all over it,” she said.
“It’s not as though the Republics left a calling card,” her brother replied, handing the note to Tal. “For all you know, this was an accident.”
“And for all I know, you are an idiot,” Elodie shot back.
Tal watched their exchange with amusement. “If this was Edgar’s handiwork, don’t you think you’d have another letter from him, trying to claim credit?” He raised an eyebrow. “He’s not exactly subtle.”
“He’s baiting me,” Elodie insisted.
Rob rolled his eyes. “Clearly it’s working.”
Tal’s dismissal of her suspicions left Elodie exasperated. Her brother’s snide remarks made her angry. Short of an invasion, she could not fathom what additional proof was required to align themselves with her. This meant that Rob’s refusal was rooted solely in spite.
Unfortunately for her brother, Elodie Warnou was well-versed in pettiness.
“Just for that, you’re coming with me to Minvin,” Elodie told him.
Rob scoffed. “This is none of my concern.”
“Acting like a petulant child does not relieve you of your princely duties,” Elodie told him. “You are a member of Velle’s royal family, and so when your people suffer tragedy, you must show up to support them. You may scowl in the coach all the way to the Highlands, but the moment you step outside that carriage you will offer comfort to the farmers who have lost their livelihoods. Now get changed. You’ve got ink on your sleeve.”
Rob looked at his sister as though he wished she were a bug he could squash beneath his boot. “Edgar only wants you because he does not know you,” Rob said. “If he knew how cruel you were, he would abandon his correspondence and none of us would be in this ridiculous mess.” He stomped off to his bedroom.
Elodie turned to Tal incredulously. “What is the matter with him?”
The Loyalist frowned. “You’re being rather hard on him, Lo.”
“For asking him to do his job?”
“For assuming this responsibility is one he wanted.”
“Yes, well,” Elodie said tersely, wounded that Tal would take her brother’s side, “we don’t always get what we want, now, do we?”
“You did.” Tal fought back a smile. “So, that’s not a particularly persuasive argument.”
The ease of his banter was profoundly irritating. She reached for the letter still in Tal’s grip, slicing her finger on the sharp edge of the page. The queen hissed as blood bloomed bright on her pale skin. She looked desperately around for something to clean it with.
“Here.” Tal rummaged in his pocket. “Take my handkerchief.”
Elodie shook her head. “It’ll stain.”
“Not this one,” Tal laughed, offering up a square of fabric the same shade of red as her wound.
Just then, Rob reemerged in a doublet, looking furious. He stalked toward his chamber door. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
The queen, who had cleaned her paltry cut, tried to return the handkerchief, but Tal waved her away. “Keep it.” He winked. “I’ve more where that came from.”
In the stable yard, Elodie and Rob were intercepted by Cleo. “I’ve got this all scheduled out,” she said, waving her siblings into the coach. The horses took off at a clip through the north gate. “This visit will move quickly,” she continued, as they left the city behind. “Just a ‘hello, so sorry for the damage, you can expect resources shortly, oh and isn’t it wonderful that the queen was able to clear her very busy schedule to be here?’ We’ll be back in time to bathe before dinner.”
