Sabine waited for the slippery voice in her ear to chime in with its usual nihilism. Instead, there was only silence. Its absence was a chasm.
Still, as Sabine refolded the parchment and tucked it into the pocket of her robe, she allowed herself the faintest sliver of relief. The poster’s words held a familiar, cynical air, as though her darkness had expelled its judgment outward, onto posters hung in public spaces.
It was a dark comfort to know that the Second Son doubted Sabine almost as much as Sabine doubted herself.
2
The next day, Elodie rose before the sun. The hours when the sky still clung to midnight, evading the efforts of impending dawn, were the only time the Queen of Velle managed to find a moment’s peace. As a child, Elodie had observed her mother’s reign with scrutiny. Why, she had wondered, did Tera Warnou have no time for anything but her job?
The answer, Elodie had recently learned, was because the demands of the throne were all-consuming and never-ending. She entertained nobility in between slurps of soup, waved to babies on her way to sentencings, composed speeches while she reviewed bank statements and forecasts of export numbers.
There were so many demands that Elodie could not help but feel as though no one wanted the queen to actually accomplish anything. If she sourced labor or materials from artisans outside Velle’s capital, the masons in the Manufacturing District stopped repairing the city’s potholes. When she lowered the cost of grain to make food accessible to all economic strata, the accountants in the Commerce District had lectured her extensively about this disruption to Velle’s currency, the kelber.
Even her breakfast was consequential. Marguerite, her lady-in-waiting, arrived every morning at six bells with a tray containing the same spread of fruit, nuts, and cheese.
If Elodie refused the fruit, she slighted the farmers of the Second Republic, whom Velle depended on for imports of citrus, berries, and greens. If she asked for ham instead of cheese, she insulted the dairy farmers of Vyen and offered undue recognition to the butchers of Lower Dale, which, according to the fine print of a decades-old treaty, was not allowed so long as she wished her army to have access to the road that led to the Fifth Republic.
Elodie had not expected absolute power and privilege to come with so many restrictions. The constant niceties and politicking left her exhausted, but there was very little time in a sovereign’s itinerary for sleep.
Marguerite had just finished pouring her tea when there came a knock at the queen’s chamber door. Elodie scowled, her time alone cut even shorter than usual. “Enter,” she called, already irritated with the person on the other side.
“Oh, good,” she said brightly, when she saw the subject of her ire. “Someone I don’t have to pretend to be nice to.”
Tal let out a good-natured laugh and settled himself on the settee opposite Elodie. He gestured to a cube of cheese. “May I?”
She nodded through a sip of tea. “Please. I can hardly stand the sight of it.” She sighed, loud and long. “I never imagined it was possible to resent cheese.”
“That’s the price of power, Majesty,” Tal said, shaking his head.
Elodie dipped a dried plum in honey, the sugar tense between her teeth. “Some days, I’m not certain it’s worth the cost.”
Tal considered this. “I think,” he said finally, “that anything worth doing will always feel just a little bit like a sacrifice.”
Elodie knew all too well what he meant. Once, she would have delighted in this image: Tal a decorated Loyalist, she the queen. Their closeness would have been a boon, not a burden. But that was before Brianne’s warning had confirmed Tal’s starry-eyed promises: The Second Son, whoever He was, would be the New Maiden’s downfall.
Tal’s devotion to this Second Son pitted him firmly against Sabine. Yet in order to disentangle His threat, Elodie had to pretend as though she didn’t care, had to behave as though Tal’s presence in her chambers was casual rather than curated.
The Loyalist nudged her foot with his. “What’s on the agenda today, Majesty?”
Elodie reached for her teacup. “The usual. Opening an orphanage in the Arts District. Entertaining the nobility who control Velle’s drinking water supply. Drafting a letter to the King of Vathi. Reading a letter from my accountant. Finding someone in this castle who can translate the letter from my accountant into something I actually understand.”
Tal chuckled. “Rob was always good with numbers, wasn’t he?”
Elodie’s mood darkened at the mention of her brother. Ever since her coronation, Rob had been noticeably absent, locked in his room day and night, composing somber concertos that included heavy percussion and tolling bells. Elodie had tried to call on him, but he refused to speak to anyone who was not Tal, rolling his eyes at his sister’s every inquiry.
“That boy is a thorn in my side.” She leaned back against the couch.
“He’s…” Tal looked thoughtful. “Going through something.”
“And I’m not?”
Tal bit back a smile. “It’s rather different, I think.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know,” Elodie said dryly. “Because he won’t speak to me, or answer any of my summonses. I don’t even know if he’s planning to show up for the orphanage opening, even though I invited him days ago and it will be difficult to explain to the parentless children why the prince couldn’t be bothered to show up and bring them any toys!”
Tal flinched but recovered quickly. “Temper, Majesty.”
Her face flushed. “Apologies,” she said shortly. “You must find me most disagreeable.”
“On the contrary.” He straightened his shoulders, the gold chain around his neck glittering in the morning light. “There is nothing you could do to make me believe so. You are a wonder, Lo. Even when your cheeks bloom with rage.”
Elodie squirmed beneath the force of his earnestness. Tal’s feelings for her had always toed the line between friendship and flame. Her heart ached for what she could not offer him, and thus for years she erred on the side of suggesting hope, so that she would not have to watch him break.
Perhaps now, she might use that to her advantage.
“You flatter me,” she said, reaching over to swat his knee. “I don’t know what I’d do without you to keep me in line.”
Surprise tiptoed across his face. He leaned forward, grinning. “Someone’s got to.”
“Pray tell, what might it take for me to convince that someone to wrangle Rob for me?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I wouldn’t ask, only you know he loves you more than he does me.” She bit her lip. “Can’t say I blame him.”
Tal cleared his throat, ears reddening. “You know that I am always at your service, Lo.”
She smiled through her unease. Her mother had touted manipulation as a queen’s most tactical weapon. It was only right she should practice wielding it.
“Make sure he wears something green,” she called after Tal. “If he won’t act like a member of the family, the least he can do is dress in Warnou colors.”
