I fear my last correspondence failed to inspire you. When I speak of marriage, it is much more than our union. Indeed, I foresee the foundation of an empire: Velle and the Sixth Republic united by land and love. Perhaps your reluctance comes because you simply cannot see my vision? I’ve enclosed a map illustrating my tactical ambitions. Once our armies are united, we will move westward until the continent is ours.
Elodie extracted the map and spread it on her desk. Edgar had used ink to darken the edges of both Velle and the Sixth Republic. Alone, they were separate stars, but Edgar had traced their borders to sketch a second country, this one a constellation of landmarks. The boy was an artist.
He was also completely mad if he believed the Sixth Republic and Velle had the resources to conquer the continent. His strategy was as sophisticated as a wooden sword.
If, however, the letter continued, your silence stems from bitterness as I suspect, I will send word to the rest of the Republics that my wife-to-be is most uncooperative. They—unlike you—recognize marriage as a vital mode of political growth, and so they’ve agreed to help bring you home where you belong. Unfortunately, they will require payment for their troubles. Everything has a cost. And so, should you refuse to align yourself with me, I shall distribute Velle’s land among them equally. If I cannot have my empire, at least I will have my wife.
Faithfully yours,
Edgar DeVos
Elodie did not need to reference Edgar’s map to understand the implications of this far more realistic threat of invasion: The Republics surrounded Velle like a waxing crescent moon of overthrown monarchies. Her country was backed into a corner, its only escape the sea. If Edgar truly could wrangle the other five Republics, Velle’s current military strategy would need to be dramatically reconfigured.
She penned a hasty letter to Rob’s father, the highest-ranking general in Velle’s army, requesting a meeting the following afternoon. Then Elodie Warnou lay down on the floor.
That was how Tal found her, nearly an hour later, Edgar’s letter crumpled in her fist.
“Give that to me.” He extracted the paper gently, frowning at Edgar’s shoddy penmanship. His disapproval did not last long. At the letter’s second line, Tal began to laugh.
“He’s attempting a coup,” he said, struggling to breathe through his mirth. “Edgar DeVos can hardly order his toy soldiers into formation, let alone a real army, yet he believes he could be an emperor. Oh, Lo, this is rich.”
“I’ve written to General Garvey,” she told him.
“I hardly think that’s necessary.” Tal chuckled, eyes still on Edgar’s letter.
Elodie bristled at Tal’s easy dismissal of her concerns. “The letter is already sent,” she lied. “Don’t tell Rob.”
At any mention of his father, Elodie’s already sensitive brother grew as delicate as spun sugar. Despite the general’s best efforts, Rob refused to enlist. It was an especially sore subject considering that Cade, Rob’s older half brother, had followed in their father’s footsteps. Rob was the family’s outlier, and he suffered for it.
“Of course.” Tal finally put the letter down and extended a hand to help her off the floor. “I’m glad you did not marry Edgar DeVos,” he said seriously, when they were face-to-face.
“Me too,” Elodie said, unnerved by his closeness. She adjusted her skirt, taking a surreptitious step away.
“You deserve more than a fool.”
“I do,” Elodie agreed. Sabine was far better than anything she deserved. Theirs was the bond that could birth an empire. Theirs the partnership that could stage a coup. Where Edgar’s threats were empty, the New Maiden’s promises were a shield.
Elodie would do whatever it took to ensure theirs was the love that endured.
5
The Anders family were not prepared for the finery that awaited them in Castle Warnou.
Their quarters in the south wing were larger than the Harborside apartment five times over. Clothes tailored to their exact measurements had been hung in each bedroom, where the mattresses were almost obscene in their plumpness. Leather-bound books lined the shelves in the shared sitting room, crystal vases housed blooming bouquets of flowers, and on a glass end table sat a plate of pepper tarts with crust so intricate they might have been sculptures. For people who had spent so much of their lives wanting, it was an embarrassment of riches.
“Oh no, dear,” Orla Anders insisted, shooing the chambermaid away from the hearth. “I can do that myself.” She plucked the dustpan from the astonished girl’s grip and began to sweep away the ashes.
“Oh, but your dress, marm,” the young woman protested, eyes widened with fear.
Sabine’s mother chuckled. “Nothing left of the skirt to ruin. They’re all patches.” Hunched in front of the fireplace, Orla might have been a castle employee, rather than a guest.
“Am I even allowed to sit on this?” Artur gestured to a couch, its fabric hand-embroidered with daffodils.
“Only after you’ve burned those pants,” Katrynn teased. The eldest Anders sibling had already traded her hand-me-downs for a midnight-blue ball gown. She waltzed around the room. Sabine gave her a twirl, the skirt fanning out in a spectacular show. Katrynn clapped gleefully. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Sabine said darkly. “I brought you here for protection, not frivolity. And you must promise not to steal anything.” She looked pointedly at her brother, who had already begun casing the room, opening every drawer and peering behind every oil painting. Artur, now examining a silver letter opener with interest, let it clatter back onto the desktop.
“Trust no one,” Katrynn said, practicing her curtsy. “Understood. Would you like me to take a vow of silence as well?”
Sabine rolled her eyes. “I’m only trying to protect you, Rynn.”
“And you’re very sweet for that, Bet.” She gently tugged a strand of Sabine’s brown hair. “But we’re all right.” She tapped her side. “Anders family rule number one.”
Sabine laughed, despite herself. She could still recall her father, sitting at the kitchen table with his three children at his feet like ducks in a row. Now, if you only listen to me once, he’d said to their six wide eyes, listen to me now. There’s plenty in this world that will harm you. You can fight it, tooth and nail, but in the end, it’s your gut that’ll save you. He’d tapped his left side, just as Katrynn had done. Rule number one, my chickadees: Only the shrewd survive.
Sabine’s sister was right. Her family’s intuition was blade-sharp. That discernment would be their saving grace.
Her relief was interrupted by a knock on the door. The chambermaid, still watching helplessly as Sabine’s aging mother usurped her duties, hurried toward it. On the other side were the two younger Warnou sisters. Cleo carried a bouquet of blue flowers while Brianne clung to her sister’s shadow.
“Hello.” Cleo smiled brightly, stepping forward to press the flowers into Katrynn’s arms. “We thought it only appropriate to check on the comfort of the castle’s newest guests.”
“Elodie asked us to look after you,” Brianne whispered to Sabine conspiratorially. Warmth flooded Sabine’s chest at having been so thoughtfully considered.
“How kind of you,” Orla called from the floor.
“Mama.” Sabine hurried over to help her mother rise to her feet. “Come and meet the princesses.”
