Pressing her empty glass into Cleo’s hands, Elodie hurried to intercept the group near the doorway. She plucked another flute of peich-nat from an errant tray and wondered at the pair of them, at Sabine’s ethereal beauty and Tal’s carefully indifferent expression. She wondered what they talked about.
“Majesty.” Sabine conducted her skirts into an impressive curtsy. “Thank you for the invitation. I hope that I’ve dressed adequately for the occasion?” Her brown eyes held Elodie’s, sending a warm flush up her spine. The heat lingered in her cheeks.
“Very much so,” Elodie managed, her gaze tracing the jut of Sabine’s collarbone. “I find your appearance here tonight to be extraordinarily pleasing.” Rob coughed, the disruption righting Elodie’s attention. “Tal.” She pinched the black fabric of his uniform, which lent his skin a pallor that was not apparent in the red of his Loyalist garb.
“I hope my appearance is no less pleasing to Her Majesty?” Tal asked with amusement. His green eyes held Elodie’s, offering none of the warmth she had found in Sabine’s.
“I am delighted to welcome you both.” She smiled beatifically before taking a long swig of her wine. “A word, Tal?” She slipped her arm through his and pulled him toward a shadowy corner. She needed to remove the New Maiden from Tal’s orbit. But if she confessed Tal’s loyalties to Sabine, the New Maiden might accuse her of aligning with the enemy.
“You look stunning this evening, Lo,” Tal breathed, but the compliment bounced right off her.
“What are you doing?” Her whisper sparked like hot coals.
Tal looked flummoxed. “You invited me here.”
“Not at my dinner,” Elodie said through gritted teeth, keeping a smile stuck to her face for any onlookers. Indeed, several sets of eyes were fixed plainly on the pair. “I mean with the New Maiden.”
Tal shook his head slightly, as though her answer was not what he had expected. “I am not with her,” he said, his lips quirking up with pleasure. “Although I must admit your jealousy is most flattering.” Elodie clenched her jaw even tighter. “No, I am simply offering a sympathetic ear. I fear the pressure of the posters may be getting to her.” Amusement twinkled in his green eyes, as though they shared an intimate joke.
“What posters?”
Tal might as well be speaking in tongues for how little Elodie understood him. He behaved as though he had a relationship with Sabine, as though he were the New Maiden’s confidant, not Elodie. Yet Sabine had been suspicious of Tal the moment they’d met. Tal had been plotting the New Maiden’s demise before Sabine had even revealed herself as the deity’s true manifestation. They could not—were seemingly destined not to—get along. Still, there was an ease between them. Elodie took another sip of wine, hoping to drown out the jealousy blooming in her gut.
Before Tal could answer, the dinner bell chimed. Elodie took her seat at the center of the table, her family fanning out beside her: Cleo to her left, next to Artur, beside Sabine; Rob to her right, next to Tal. The other long tables held Kirrish delegates and Velle’s courtiers. So many forks were included in each place setting that there was nearly an arm’s length between every guest.
Elodie hardly tasted the first course, so troubled was her mood. But as the meal progressed, sauces were spooned from tureens onto roasted birds; charred vegetables dripped with butter and herbs. Her tension dissipated as her stomach filled and she sobered up. While she ate, Elodie monitored the various attempts at conversation. Nearly everyone was yelling, competing with the long tables, the wide place settings, and the clinking of cutlery as they dined.
Elodie turned toward her brother. “How is your food?”
Rob glowered at her. “There’s nothing wrong with my mood,” he shouted, falling victim to a classically absurd misunderstanding. “Even if there was, that does not concern you.”
Elodie sighed. “I was only asking about your meal,” she said as Rob turned away. She could not understand what had possessed her brother. Elodie watched him throw a disgruntled look at Sabine. It was unclear if her brother’s distaste for the New Maiden had to do with her status, or the person upon whose arm she had arrived.
On the other side of the table, the Anders siblings were faring slightly better. While Sabine had first appeared nervous, having Artur by her side seemed to have loosened her tongue. As the meal progressed, she had shifted from timid to excitable, and finally, friendly. The New Maiden looked on enthusiastically as a Kirrish woman told an exuberant story, occasionally flittering her eyes toward Elodie, the Maiden’s gaze so earnest and wanting it left Elodie feeling exposed.
By the time the dishes had been cleared and tea had been poured for the guests, Elodie was ready to address the thorny topic of debts owed. She summoned the Kirrish chancellor to sit in Cleo’s now abandoned chair—the princess had gone to ensure dessert was being plated appropriately—and leveled with him.
“Had you incurred this level of debt under Velle’s previous regime, my mother would have already sent a battalion to break down your doors,” Elodie said coolly, hands folded beneath her chin. The chancellor choked on his tea. “Now, I’m not going to do that,” she continued. “I’ll give you grace to settle your scores. I know you’re a man of honor.”
“Oh, I am,” he said, leaning back and draping an arm around the shoulders of her chair. “I’m glad to see that a girl as lovely as you possesses brains as well as beauty.”
Rage circled her like a housefly, impossible to ignore. It was the same snide dismissal she had faced at the hands of Edgar.
“Would you like to know a secret?” Elodie waggled a finger to draw the chancellor closer to her. He had a speck of roasted bird stuck to his whiskers. “My strategy would be the same if I had the head of a horse, and the First Battalion would answer my call just the same.”
The chancellor’s eyes widened as Elodie pushed back her chair. “If you do not pay what you owe by the next full moon,” she continued, “my army will mobilize to settle the balance. We will strip your houses, brick by brick, send your children to our front lines and our factories until we have recouped our due.” She tossed her soiled napkin on the chancellor’s lap, smoothing the forest green velvet of her skirt. “Understood?”
The chancellor’s face turned red. “Majesty, you are out of line.”
“And you are out of touch,” she snapped, glancing over her shoulder to ensure she had been loud enough to allow the courtiers to hang on her every word. She needed whispers to spread that Velle’s monarch would stop at nothing to ensure her country received its due. “You may consider this your final warning.”
She rose to her feet, righteous adrenaline making her feel warmer than all the wine in the world. Across the room, Sabine leaned against the wall, watching Artur delight Cleo and a group of courtiers with sleight of hand tricks. Elodie joined them, settling into the space beside Sabine. The queen dropped her hand so that it rested beside the New Maiden’s, their fingers almost touching. Sparks shot up Elodie’s arm. This almost nearness wasn’t enough. She could not shake the swirling uncertainty surrounding Tal and Sabine’s relationship. She needed to understand where she fit in. If she fit in.
The Queen of Velle issued one final instruction that night, whispered into the curve of the New Maiden’s ear. Elodie delighted in the shiver her words incited, the goose bumps that appeared on Sabine’s pale skin in their wake. Now there was nothing to do but wait and hope that her invitation would be accepted.
11
Sabine waited until her sister fell asleep before slipping out of the bed they shared. In a palace this size, the New Maiden could have requested her own mattress, but Katrynn’s presence was a soothing reminder of the life she’d once spent tucked beneath blankets, sharing space with her sadness. Without her magic or her darkness, Sabine felt as hollow as footsteps in an empty chapel. A choir that sang only the harmony line.
This was why she did her best to ensure she was never alone. In the mornings and the evenings, she had her family—her mother, Katrynn, and Artur. During the day, she clung to Silas and Brianne. Only occasionally did she allow herself to stray from their safe haven.
Sabine had not intended to suffuse her emotional void with Tal, but he was the closest approximation to her old ghosts that she had found thus far. His sharp, wry words took root in the most vulnerable corners of her heart, making her blood rush and her skin prickle.
But even he was not enough, and he certainly couldn’t compensate for Elodie’s recent absence. Tonight, Sabine would find comfort in the queen.
She shrugged on a dressing gown. It was silky and entirely useless against the cold of the corridors, but she wanted to look nice. Or as nice as anyone could look in the vacant hour between the moon and the sun.
Sabine stuck to the shadows of the south wing. She did not wish to incite gossip, and whispers of the New Maiden on her way to the queen’s bedroom would spread through the palace faster than a plague through harbor rats. When she reached the western staircase, she quickened her step, as though momentum could render her invisible.
Sabine arrived at Elodie’s door unscathed. Even though she had been issued an invitation for this midnight tryst, she knocked gently. The door flew open. Elodie’s eyes were hopeful, her cheeks flushed. “You came.”
Sabine tucked a lock of pale hair behind the queen’s ear. “I cannot fathom a world where you ask for me and I do not obey.”
She swept Elodie into a kiss, pressing her backward into the room so the door could shut behind them. A swell of wanting rose in her chest. Their bodies pressed together so tightly not even sand could have sifted between them.
“I’m sorry we didn’t speak much tonight,” Elodie murmured. The queen’s hands were tangled in Sabine’s hair, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as they stumbled toward the bed. “But lady above, you looked incredible.”
