“But if you ask me, that boy is rotten to the core,” she murmured.

I looked up finally. “Prince Ceren?” I whispered, surprised by her candor. She must have seen my reaction.

Her eyes were a deep blue-violet that stood out against her dark hair and clothing. “He is violent, unpredictable. These little lords and ladies here, they think there is safety in numbers. They believe they’re like fish in a school, in no danger from the shark circling around them. But one moment, the shark will snap, devouring a fish before the others even know what has happened. I’ve seen it many times. A lord says something that displeases the prince, or a lady offends him in some way, and the next day the person is gone, never to be seen again. It’s all so clean and quiet...until you’re the one being eaten.”

Her words stunned me. I was grateful for her honesty, but this was so much worse than I’d imagined. “Surely they’re just sent back to their families?”

“Perhaps. That’s what the others choose to believe. But people are dispensable to that boy.”

That boy. She despised him, clearly. “What happened to you, after the king realized you weren’t the chosen girl?”

Her violet eyes widened. “Someone told you?”

I wanted to tell her my own story—it seemed only fair, considering I was asking for hers. But we’d just met. It would be stupid to assume I could trust her. “Just that the king discovered the truth, and our people were punished.”

Lady Melina rose and began to pace over the woven rug. I noticed her bare toes peeking out from beneath her hem, and my heart clenched at the reminder of home, though I wasn’t sure how she could tolerate the cold bite of the stone floors here. “When Lazar saw I was not the girl from the portrait, he was furious, even though I explained countless times what had happened,” she told me, her tone full of bitterness. “He said he could not marry someone so unworthy. So instead he married an Ilarean lady, cut off Varenia’s water supply, and made me his mistress.”

I felt myself growing sick at her words. “But why not send you back to Varenia?”

She shook her head. “I believe he wanted to maintain Ilara’s relationship with Varenia. And while his pride wouldn’t allow him to marry me, I think he still desired me for himself.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, child. Lazar was never cruel to me personally, and Prince Ceren is far worse than his grandfather ever was. He’ll be the death of all the Varenians, mark my words.”

“What are you talking about?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Has he taken you to his study yet?”

“Yes,” I said. “So?”

“He didn’t spend a year working on his little device so he could make friends with the fishes. He thinks that whatever is wrong with him can be fixed with the Varenian pearls, if only he had enough. And he knows he can only push our people so far before they starve to death, or worse, revolt.”

“But Ceren seems perfectly healthy,” I said, confused.

“It’s this mountain,” she said, looking up at the raw ceiling above us. “Something about it kills the Ilarean royals while they’re still young.”

“I imagine it’s the lack of sunlight and fresh air.”

She sighed impatiently. “You’ve seen the king, child. He’s two decades younger than me and looks a thousand years old. It’s more than that.”

“So Ceren is afraid he’ll end up like his father?” I asked. Lady Melina nodded. “And he thinks he can harvest the pearls himself with a sack and a hose?”

She laughed at the incredulous look on my face. “If you don’t believe me, go see for yourself. He tests it at night. But be careful. He has spies everywhere.” She started toward the door. “Which is why you and I shouldn’t meet again.”

I rose, hurrying to catch up. “But you’re the only person here I can really talk to. Can’t we meet in your chambers?”

Lady Melina continued her swift pace. “To invite you to my rooms would be like swimming directly into the shark’s jaws.”

“In my chambers, then. Or at meals.”

“Prince Ceren prefers to see as little of me as possible, and I’m happy to say the feeling is mutual. But you need to stay on his good side, or at least try. And you won’t do that by meeting with me, child. Make some other allies here at court. You’ll need them.”

“Just tell me one thing,” I begged, unable to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Will I ever be permitted to leave New Castle? Please say there’s some hope.”

She turned her piercing eyes on mine. “There is no hope for any of us, child. We are all trapped in this mountain like lobsters in a cage, waiting for our turn to die.”

      17

I spent the next day in bed, alternating between drowning in self-pity and plotting my escape. If I could somehow get to the market, Sami could take me back to Varenia and we could tell Governor Kristos everything. The fact that Lady Melina had been made a mistress instead of queen should be reason enough for us to put an end to the ridiculous pact we had with Ilara.

But then I remembered how difficult the journey here had been, in a plush coach with a personal servant, and I knew there was no way I’d be able to make it to the port market on my own. Lady Melina was right. I needed allies. And I wouldn’t make any by wallowing in my room.

No one seemed to know when Ceren would be returning, so I decided to make the most of whatever time I had to myself. At breakfast the next day, I struck up a conversation with one of the ladies sitting nearest to me. Lady Hyacinth was around twenty, though her powdered hair and high-necked taffeta gown made her look much older. Ebb had assured me that this lady was well worth knowing—she was part of the king’s military council and had an extensive knowledge of the uprisings sprouting up around the kingdom, particularly in the South.

After we exchanged pleasantries at breakfast, she invited me to her chambers for tea with several other lords and ladies.

“Aren’t you lovely!” one of the women commented, inviting me to sit next to her on an overstuffed brocade couch. “I passed Varenia once, on my way here from Kuven. We didn’t get close enough to see any people, though. Our loss, clearly.”

I blushed, and Lady Hyacinth exchanged a knowing smile with her friends. “I told you she was darling. Much better than that awful Lady Melina.”

“Let’s not even talk about her,” a lord said with an exaggerated shudder. “That woman frightens me.”

I spoke only when spoken to, trying to glean any useful information I could, but Hyacinth was much more interested in talking about court politics than anything outside the castle. Several of the other ladies were busy knitting. It was so cold in the mountain that when the women weren’t at meals displaying their fine gowns, they bundled themselves in knitted cowls and shawls, warming their hands in gloves. Knitting these garments, I discovered quickly, was about as fun as repairing fishing nets.

When Ceren returned the following day, I decided that I would somehow find a way to broach the subject of leaving New Castle. Even if I didn’t make it to the market this month, I couldn’t spend the rest of my life drinking tea with Lady Hyacinth and her friends, knitting fingerless gloves. I’d go mad in a matter of weeks.

Before dinner, I asked Ebb to dress me in something she thought Ceren would like. She eyed me strangely, but didn’t question my request. She chose a heavy plum-colored satin sleeveless gown with an attached cape that drifted behind me like the wings of a manta ray when I walked. The bodice was fitted, but not low cut, and it didn’t leave me feeling vulnerable like some of the gauzier gowns in my wardrobe.

Ceren came to my chambers and offered to escort me to dinner. I noticed that his cheeks had just a hint of pink in them, as though the time away from the mountain had done him some good.

“You’re looking well this evening,” he said as we walked to the dining hall arm in arm.

I smiled. “I was just thinking the same about you.”

But he did not return the smile, and I got the sense that the compliment displeased him somehow. Perhaps he didn’t trust it.

By the time we reached the lull between dinner and dessert that night, Ceren had consumed several cups of strong Ilarean wine, more than I’d ever seen him drink before. I’d learned to avoid wine since the night I’d danced with Talin by asking the servants to fill my glass with water before they brought it to the table.

“Your Highness,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though my hands trembled in my lap. “I was wondering if I might be permitted to go to one of the villages. I saw so little on my journey here, and I imagine there is far more to Ilara than New Castle.”

He swirled his wine in his glass, pretending to be very interested in the contents, but I knew there was more going on behind his granite eyes. Everything was a calculation for him, a tallying of sums and differences.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”