The queen nodded, heart sinking like a stone. She pressed a swift kiss to the New Maiden’s lips, as delicate as the flittering of butterfly wings.
On her way out the door, Sabine paused before the Royal Chaplain. “You’ve been quiet, Silas. Do you disapprove?”
“I know not what to say, Maiden,” the older woman admitted softly. “I know not how to advise. I can only pledge to you my fealty and pray for your safety. I will protect your house of worship with all that I have.”
Sabine offered the woman a true smile, dipping her head as though in swift prayer before letting Katrynn lead her from the chapel. The Royal Chaplain excused herself, heading for the small office behind the pulpit. This left only Elodie and Brianne. The queen examined the youngest Warnou outright. Where once Elodie would have described her sister as flighty and eager to please, Brianne now seemed stoic and measured, as though her days asleep had drained some of the vibrancy from her soul.
Her sister seemed to have been irrevocably altered, and Elodie was at fault. It struck her then, as she took in Brianne’s quiet defiance and deep consideration, that she had never actually apologized for what she had done. With the future so uncertain, Elodie could not allow this fracture to remain between them, no matter the cost to her pride.
“Brianne.” Elodie did not know what to say. The words I’m sorry felt empty in the wake of using her sibling as a pawn in a power struggle.
“Don’t use my full name,” Brianne said, wrinkling her nose. “You sound like Mother.”
Elodie smiled softly. “You look like Mother. She used to wrinkle her nose just like that whenever she read correspondence from the treasury. It was always bad news.”
“I didn’t know that.” Brianne’s eyes were faraway. As she sank down onto a pew, Elodie was struck again by how small her sister was. She had endured so much in her thirteen years and had been alone for the brunt of it. Elodie had been lucky enough to receive the lion’s share of her mother’s time and attention. It seemed only fair to offer some of those stories to her siblings who had not been granted that same gift.
“She’d also emit this tiny sigh whenever your father left her chambers,” Elodie continued, “just like”—she blew a small puff of air out from between her lips, emitting a muffled whistle—“that. Once, he addressed the noise and asked her if she was all right. She blamed it on her pet bird.”
Brianne frowned. “Mother had a pet bird?”
Elodie grinned wryly. “She did not.”
The room sparkled with Brianne’s laughter. That brief glimmer of joy felt bigger than an apology. But Elodie still needed to say the words.
“I’m sorry, Bri.” She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. “For what I did to you. It was wrong to put you at such risk. I can’t begin to tell you—” Brianne held up a hand to cut her off.
“It’s not all right,” she said, shaking her head. “What you did.”
“I know,” Elodie said immediately.
“You could have killed me,” Brianne said accusingly.
“I know,” Elodie echoed.
“Did you really desire to be queen so badly?”
“No,” Elodie whispered. She wanted desperately to reach for her sister’s hand, but this moment was not intended for her comfort. This moment belonged to Brianne alone.
“I won’t hold on to it,” the youngest Warnou said. “I can’t. I have too much to carry already.” She stretched her arms toward the ceiling. “So thank you for the apology. I guess.”
Elodie nodded. She felt almost relieved not to be forgiven. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t ever do it again,” Brianne said, warningly.
Elodie crossed her heart with her right hand. “Never. I swear it.”
“Good.” Brianne sat back in the pew, foot jiggling with restless energy.
“Good.” Elodie matched her pose, watching her sister in her peripheral vision. Brianne did not look happier, but her sadness seemed lighter, somehow. “I should go.”
“Be careful, Ellie.”
“You too, Bri.” Elodie squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”
The afternoon sun cast spindles of light across the browning hedges of the royal garden. The rosebushes had shed everything but their thorns, the brambles ready to snag an unsuspecting cloak. Elodie felt as sharp as those prickly plants, hated that she would have to make nice with Tal after he had targeted Sabine. But the New Maiden was right. Ingratiating herself with the prophet was the best way to keep Sabine safe.
Inside the castle, empty hallways incited fear that their spectacle might be for naught. But as she turned the corridor to the south wing, voices rang out from behind the many guest room doors. Elodie praised Katrynn for her sharp and devious mind.
One hand pressed to the smooth stone of the palace walls, the queen steeled herself for what came next. She called forth the grim, unyielding expression her mother wore when enforcing controversial decisions, and fit that look upon her own face. She exhaled her guilt and suffocating doubt, then strode toward the library where Sabine and her sister were stationed.
She called the name of the New Maiden, her voice hard and cold. Even though Sabine had been expecting her, she jumped. The fear in her eyes looked uncomfortably real.
Sabine swept into a considered curtsy. “Majesty. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You know why I am here,” Elodie said chillily. “I heard about the incident in the training room.”
“You did?” Sabine’s eyes widened. “Then perhaps you can understand—”
“There is nothing to understand.” Elodie’s voice was merciless enough that Sabine flinched. There was movement behind several of the doors. One opened a crack, although none of them were brave enough to show their face. People were listening, then.
“You attacked a good soldier in a fit of madness.” She tried to swallow her revulsion at using Sabine’s darkness against her. “Endangering the life of a Loyalist is crime enough, but Tal is my oldest friend. Anyone who would treat him in such a way betrays not only her country but the heart of her queen.”
“Elodie, I—”
“You may address me as Your Majesty,” Elodie said coldly. Now several members of the nobility stepped out from behind their doors to stare openly. “I cannot indulge unrest within the palace, and thus, you have lost the privilege of my protection. Now pack your belongings and begone.”
Sabine’s eyes swam with tears. “Surely you don’t mean that,” she protested. “You wouldn’t—”
