“How did you come to be in the service of my brother’s wife?”

The question had been bouncing around in Eloisa’s head ever since their exchange, wherein Lidia had seemed to advocate for Eloisa over the queen that she supposedly served. Somewhere in there was a lie, for it was impossible to serve two masters.

“You are suspicious of my motivations.”

Lidia sat on the opposite side of the palanquin, her arms folded neatly in her lap. Her face looked serene, but her aura crackled with nervous energy.

“To tell it true, I have no great fondness for Milara, or for Philomen, as he is now. But if you are not loyal to the queen you allegedly serve, how can I trust that you will be loyal to me?”

Out of the tower less than a day, and already she was delving into intrigue. Though, if little else, the tower had prepared her for such things. While falsehoods were a rarity amongst the acolytes, factions were a part of life.

Children formed bands of trusted confidantes, usually based around their nationalities, or among the Atolians, their social classes. As the years passed and they graduated to Daughters, the groups would break down smaller still, until they had only two or three others that they trusted implicitly. Trust was a very different concept to a Child and Daughter. Children expected others to guard their secrets as if they were their own. Daughters had been lashed enough times to know that secrets were only kept so long as they were not put under the lens of a direct question.

Above them were the Sisters, who answered to no Daughter or Child, and rarely to Maidens, who were so absorbed in their devotions that they seldom trifled with those below them. A Sister did not have to work at hiding anything, because questioning her integrity was simply not done. Yet during her century of coming to know them well, Eloisa knew that almost all of them had blemishes on their integrity. Finding out their vices, like Sister Clarine’s secret passion for romantic poetry, Sister Marta’s fondness for teas, or Sister Indicta’s disdain for half-breeds, it was a matter of reading between the lines.

Certainly there were smaller cues that could be picked up on through odd word choices or strange scents, but what Eloisa found most enlightening were the times when the words that were being said were not in alignment with the actions or values of the speaker. While the Sisters were not quite her enemies, they were responsible for her punishments, and knowing how to best play to their sympathies or rationalities could mean the difference between a caning and a night in The Dark Room.

Eloisa was adapted to looking for these inconsistencies, and from women far more practiced at hiding them than Lidia. When Lidia had spoken to her earlier, all but telling Eloisa to seize Philomen’s throne, the inconsistency had been so glaring that Eloisa was at first sure she hadn’t heard the maid correctly.

“You are right,” Lidia conceded. “My loyalties do not lie with Milara, or with the Atolian court. A week ago, when the preliminary arrangements for this engagement were made, I was bequeathed to the queen, a gift from the queen of Agreia.”

Her aura continued to crackle with nervousness, but did not gray with a lie. Eloisa recognized that she would know better than to lie, as she knew of Eloisa’s abilities. However, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be subversive, and Eloisa would have to be pointed in her questioning.

“The queen of Agreia?” Eloisa said, frowning. “Why do I feel as if I should be familiar with her?”

“Because she’s your sister, Ma’am.”

Eloisa’s brows rose. “Lusia…”

She remembered now what High Maiden Ionia had told her, that Lusia had been married to an Agreian monarch for nearly as long as Eloisa had been in the tower.

Then, she remembered something more recent.

Lusia and I have been down here on the ground, struggling to keep our kingdom together.

“Lusia and Philomen, they are allies?”

Lidia’s hands fidgeted in her lap. She turned her gaze out to the window as she spoke.

“Ma’am, we are going to a foreign land where you do not speak the language and no one will know of your background. Your faith in me will be essential. It also stands to reason that we will become quite close, perhaps something akin to friends.” She glanced back at Eloisa, her aura growing pale with resolve. “It is my greatest wish that you will trust me, and there is little I wouldn’t do to foster that. However, there are some subjects I cannot broach in any depth. It would be too dangerous, should the information fall on the wrong ears. The nature of Philomen and Lusia’s relationship is one of them.”

“You’re saying that you don’t trust me?”

“It is not that I question your character. After years at court, I find your candor to be quite refreshing. But that is the problem, Ma’am. You have said yourself that you are unwilling to lie, and while that is admirable, it is also very dangerous. Some secrets must be kept for the greater good of all.”

Eloisa didn’t lie, and as such, she was unworthy of trust. That was perhaps the strangest concept she’d had to swallow since being torn from her bed at the tower.

Lidia was right, Eloisa knew that logically. She didn’t think she could lie to save her own life, let alone to keep the secrets of others. Still, it disturbed her to know that Lidia would keep things from her, things that could affect Eloisa.

“Can you tell me how you came to be in my sister’s employment?” Eloisa asked.

“It is a very long tale.”

Eloisa gestured towards the window. “We have time.”

The journey to Cal’en Fasha, Lord Caleth’s keep, would take all of the afternoon and much of the evening. It was a direct flight, with only an hour-long stop to rest themselves once they reached the sovereign’s holdings in the centrally-located Stravea.

Lidia relaxed in her seat, settling in as she began her tale.

“I was born in Atolia. My father was the bastard son of a minor house, my mother was his lover. Because my father was half-human himself and as such could hold no titles, it was no great shame that he sired a daughter with a human. As I had no value in regards to marriage, my father’s family had me educated in the practical skills of linguistics and bookkeeping, so that I could serve them. By matter of chance, my first job was the same as it is now. I was sent with the young lady Lusia to Agreia to work as her translator and to be a companion to her.”

“I was told Lusia married when she was fifteen.”

Lidia nodded. “It was how I came by the position. My grandparents convinced the king that I would make an ideal companion for her, given that we were the same age.”

“But you look so young, for someone so human.”

She hadn’t meant it as a slight, and although Lidia’s face did not change, Eloisa did notice in her aura that she took some offense.

Eloisa said, “In the tower, we view humanity as a matter of fact, not insult. My comment was not meant to be disparaging.”

While it was true that Eloisa sometimes prided herself in the abilities her bloodline afforded her, she never viewed her blood as placing herself above others. She’d been outperformed by many a Child and Daughter who were steeped in humanity.

“It can be like that with halflings,” Lidia said, her offense subsiding. “I have a younger sister who already has grays in her hair, while I have nary a wrinkle.”

Now that she knew Lidia was older than her, Eloisa had to reframe her in her mind. What had once seemed like a bookish nature could now be perceived as the wisdom of age.

“You must have met Lusia only a few years after I left,” Eloisa said. “What was she like? In my memories, she was always so remote.”

She had looked up to Lusia, who had always been so mature and quiet of nature, despite being only a year Eloisa’s senior.

Lidia let out a pensive sigh. “She was difficult to know, at first. She was very reserved in her regard, which many mistook as coldness. She was accustomed to being used and manipulated for the purposes of others, and as such she was skeptical of any who would seek her friendship.”

Lidia smiled to herself. “We were suited for each other in that regard, because despite the effort to which my parents had gone to arrange the position, I had no interest in being Lusia’s friend. I thought her spoiled and ungrateful, though neither was the case. At the time, I wanted nothing more than to be married, and I was resentful of her, a princess who was so adverse to marrying a handsome prince.”

“She didn’t want to marry him?”

Lidia gave her a look that Eloisa was certain she’d soon become accustomed to. It was the look that she’d often given Children when they’d asked a question to which the answer was so plain to her that it should have been obvious to anyone.

“That is not how Atolian marriages work, Ma’am. Women don’t choose their husbands, and they’re seldom happy with their father’s choice. In any case, Lusia was particularly unhappy. She’d had affections for a young man in her father’s court, but the king forbade the relationship. He needed her to marry up, as far up as possible. At he time, the kingdom was in the early stages of collapse, though few could see it back then.”

“Philomen is not the cause of Atolia’s problems?”

Lidia lowered her voice, certainly out of habit, considering there were none around to hear them. “Your brother has made a right mess of things, but in some fairness to him, he has only been casting oil on the fire your father started. Did you not think it was odd when I told you how your father died? That he charged in to fight an army of dragons on his own?”

Eloisa hadn’t thought it overly odd, as she remembered her father’s dragon form to be massive and every bit as intimidating as Lord Caleth’s had been. But now that she’d seen the sovereign and his fliers, it was a reminder of just how powerful a single dragon could be. She could not imagine her father charging into an entire army of them and expecting to come out alive.

“I suppose I didn’t give it proper thought.”

Lidia said, “The marriage between your mother and father, it was arranged, but it was one of deep love. After your mother’s death, your father lost all care for ruling. As Lusia told it, things grew worse with each year that passed. He turned increasingly to drinking and became something of a fatalist. They are surprised he survived as long as he did.

“By the time Lusia was fourteen, the kingdom had already been badly mismanaged by his advisors and had gone into arrears. It was decided that a foreign marriage would refill the coffers, so the council arranged a bidding war for Lusia’s hand. The Agreian king bid for his heir, and when he emerged the winner, he paid the highest bride price in history. The sum was enough to keep the kingdom afloat for over a decade.”

“Why so much? Is Lusia a great beauty?”

In other parts of Atolia and the southern kingdoms, men paid dowries for their daughters to be wed. Among high nobility and pure bloodlines, it was the reverse. Men looked less for brides that would give them a political advantage and more for those who would give them powerful sons and pureblooded daughters they could later leverage for alliances.

“She is quite fair, Ma’am, but that was of little consequence. Many bid in hopes that she would take after her mother. Three children in ten years is quite unprecedented.”

“I see.”

Eloisa wondered if that was not part of Lord Caleth’s reasoning for marrying her. Would he expect her to give him sons to bolster his armies, and daughters to wed off to foreign lands?

“Was she happy with her husband, once she came to know him?”

Lidia hesitated, and then said, “The prince was also not inclined to marry, and was not pleased with his father’s decision to see him wed. He was never cruel to Lusia, but he also had little regard for her, at least in the beginning. Over the years, they’ve come to be at peace with one another.”

Eloisa could see that Lidia was struggling to paint truth over the unhappy union, so she decided to get the conversation back on course. “And for all these years, you’ve served my sister as her maid?”

“Mostly. I was married for a time, to a corporal from a good family. The Agreian people are not such sticklers for good breeding as the Atolians. My marriage ended when my husband fell in battle, not long after the Atolian Wars broke out.”

“I’m so sorry. But, the Atolian Wars?”

“That’s what they’re calling it now. It started with Atolian and Redura, but as the conflicts began to pile up it became more practical to call them simply, the Atolian Wars. In truth, it would be better called the Southern Wars, as there is not a single corner of the continent that isn’t swept up in the madness in one manner or another. Agreia was the first kingdom to come to Atolia’s aid, and they were one of the few who did. Lusia has since had to publicly cut ties with Philomen, lest her nation suffer further from the association with Atolia.”

Eloisa didn’t miss that she’d said ‘publicly’ and she wondered if it had been a slip, or an intentional offering.

Carefully, she asked, “Would Agreia stand to benefit from my marrying Lord Caleth?”

With equal deliberateness, Lusia said, “It is a matter of record that King Philomen is most in debt to the Agreian crown. Were he able to pay them back what is owed, as well as additional damages, it would go a long way towards easing social unrest in Agreia.”

Eloisa leaned back as she allowed the insight to simmer. She now had even more questions, chief among them was whether her marriage had truly been Philomen’s idea, or if Lusia had a hand in it as well. She could have pressed the question to Lidia, but she felt certain she already knew the answer.

What must Lusia have thought of her? Did she share Philomen’s conviction that Eloisa owed them for her absence? That she’d been fortunate to be sent away, and had an easy, simple life in the tower?

Was I fortunate?

Certainly, it had not been easy and she had wanted for many things, but she’d had a friend, someone she cared for dearly and trusted to care for her in return. She’d had the Sisters, who when they weren’t doling out punishments had always devoted themselves to seeing Eloisa raised well. Even Sister Verity, who had always been harshest towards her, had risked everything in an attempt to save her soul.

Meanwhile, Lusia had grown up afraid to trust anyone, and had been married off at an unconscionable age to a man she did not love. And though she didn’t know the circumstances of Philomen’s upbringing, judging by how he turned out, she could not imagine he’d had an easy time of things.

Her contemplations humbled her. She still did not believe that she deserved what was happening to her, but she could at least understand their perspective.

“What will happen now?” she asked after a time. “When we arrive at Cal’en Fasha?”

“The sovereign will want to start courting you immediately. Courtships are supposed to last two weeks—twelve nights by their calendar—but they are often cut shorter than that. It is, however, considered bad form for a courtship to last fewer than three nights.”

“Twelve nights?” Eloisa repeated, her mind unable to process anything beyond that phrase. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Though she knew little of courtship, she’d read plenty of historical texts that mentioned the subject matter in brief. When a king and his potential queen courted, the process often lasted months, sometimes years.

“The Cal’derache courtship is a much more involved process than the Atolian. The sovereign will spend a great deal of time with you, during the day and at night.”

“At night?” Eloisa said, her stomach twisting. “He will expect…”

“I don’t know, Ma’am. But I’ll do everything in my power to make this easier for you.”

Eloisa laid back on the couch, resting her head on a pillow and placing her hand on her chest. Staring at the ceiling, she felt her mind begin to disassociate again, too overwhelmed to contemplate what was to come.

“I missed morning prayers,” she said absently. “I never miss morning prayers.”

She thought back to how irreverent she’d been, crouched at her bedside, her back to Selia as they both prayed. Selia always said hers in her head, as was permitted, but Eloisa was ostentatious in her worship, always saying her prayers aloud and with a witty edge, not stopping until she’d heard a giggle or a snort from the other side of the room.

Eloisa had thought herself so clever. Now, she felt like a husk of her former self. Her wit and guile had dried up, leaving nothing but piety and fear in its place.

“Do they worship Phaeda in the north?” she asked, mostly to make conversation. The north was well-known for having a host of different pagan beliefs.

“I can’t speak for the entire north, but in Cal’dara, they worship only one god, the god of substance, Wysmet.”

“Ah. I think I've read of him.”

“They allowed you to read of other faiths?”

“We are taught that all faiths are Truths, and that if a god is true for one person, then he is Truth.”

“So then, do you believe that Phaeda is only true because you believe in her?”

“In a sense. Phaeda is Light, Truth in its purest form. Everything that we perceive is because of light, and therefore light is the only truth.”

Eloisa looked over in time to see Lidia hiding a blush with her hand. “You’ll have to forgive me, Ma’am. I am not much for speaking on philosophy. I can tell you that if you’re interested, I can help you find a teacher of the Cal’derache faith.”

Eloisa turned away. “I have no interest in other faiths. I’ll keep only Phaeda, even if she has forsaken me.”

After a quiet moment, Lidia said, “I cannot imagine what this must all be like for you.”

She was sure that Lidia did not know the half of it.

“You and I both. I have only just begun to process what is happening. I'm almost certain that I am not dreaming, but part of me still feels that this is a test. Some delusion brought on by the goddess, and that if I give into this madness, I’ll wake in The Cloister to find that I have failed Her test and must repeat my half-century as a Daughter.”

Lidia whispered, “I think that if the goddess were going to test you, she’d have you wed to some handsome southern prince, and not a northern warlord.” She sucked in a breath. “Why, Ma’am, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile.”

Eloisa touched a hand to her lips. “I think you’re right on both counts.”

“You will get through this, I promise you. The day will come when all of this will seem normal to you.”

Eloisa swallowed a lump in her throat. “That is what I am most afraid of.”

She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, mumbling to Lidia that they would talk more later. Tiredness, she knew, was a thief of reason, and perhaps if she got some rest she’d be able to think more clearly.

As she drifted to sleep, she envisioned a dragon looming over her, its jaws open wide. She couldn’t tell if it was Lord Caleth or the effigy of Phaeda, and she wasn’t sure which was more frightening.

When she woke, it took time for her to orient herself. She knew from the way the room jostled that she was still in the palanquin, but it was dark and unfathomably cold. It had taken effort to open her eyes. They hadn't been glued shut by sleep, but by frost. Her lips were hard and stubborn to part, and she could feel that they were badly cracked. She flicked her tongue across them and tasted blood.

Sitting up, she saw that she’d been covered with a blanket. Her breath came out in crystals that froze and fell just as fast, and inhaling hurt her lungs.

Across from her, she could see Lidia sitting with her eyes closed, her hands still folded neatly in her lap. The moonlight made her olive skin appear gray and not unlike a corpse.

“Lidia.”

Her voice was hoarse, as if the place where it resided in her throat had frozen over.

She was relieved when Lidia twitched back to consciousness, her hands going up to rub warmth into her arms.

“S-Sorry, Ma’am. Must have fallen asleep.”

“Do you know where we are?”

Eloisa had leaned towards the window, but all she could see below was a vast stretch of water, its surface crowded with flotsams of ice chunks.

“It looks as if we’re still over the Y'drean Sea. We’d been over it for hours when I last checked, so it shouldn’t be long now.”

Eloisa tried passing her the blanket, but Lidia declined.

“We’ll be landing in Stravea soon?”

“No, Ma’am. We landed in Stravea quite some time ago. I saw no purpose in waking you.”

Eloisa rubbed her face, mostly to warm it. “I slept all day?”

“More or less, but we’re so far north now that it hardly matters.”

Eloisa went to pour herself some water, but the contents of the pitcher had turned to ice. Lidia opened the dining tray, took a fork from beneath it, and then used it to break up the ice, revealing water that had not yet frozen.

She poured Eloisa a drink, but the water was too cold for her to swallow more than a couple sips.

“I can’t believe that woman is out there, riding on the back of a flier,” Lidia remarked.

She was referring to the woman who had acted as Lord Caleth’s translator. When they’d departed from the palace, she had declined their invitation to join them in the palanquin, choosing instead to mount one of the fliers, leaving just as she’d arrived.

“I’ve heard that frostkind are like that,” Eloisa said. “Man or woman, the cold does not affect them. It’s the heat they can’t abide.”

There had been only one frostkind in the tower, but she’d had so much human blood that it was a stretch to call her that. She’d been born in the central lands, and whisked away to the tower as soon as she was old enough. When they’d graduated to Daughters, she’d had to remain in the lower chambers with the Children, where the air was cooler and inoffensive to her delicate constitution.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her belly, she asked, “Will Cal’en Fasha be this cold throughout?”

Lidia rolled her shoulders. “I am certain they will make accommodations for you.”

As uncomfortable as she was, she knew that the burden would be far harder on Lidia. Eloisa's kind may have been adapted to warmer climates, but she could withstand the cold well enough. Humans, however, could not. Part of the reason that the northern bloodlines ran so pure was that few humans could survive the extreme temperatures.

“This all must be a great burden for you,” Eloisa said. “I’m not in a position to do much, but I will endeavor to learn the language as quickly as possible, and then perhaps you may return to Lusia.”

Lidia was shaking her head before Eloisa could finish. “Better you don’t. The longer you remain ignorant, the longer I can be your voice.”

Eloisa wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Having Lidia lie for her, wasn’t it the same as lying herself? In the tower, when a Child lied to protect a friend, both girls were punished equally.

“I suppose so,” Eloisa murmured.

Her attention had gone back to the window, where in the distance she could see what looked to be a line of glowing blue light. As they neared the light, it began to expand and take on definition. Soon, she could see that there were hundreds, and then thousands of flecks of light, lighting the coastline and the land beyond it.

“What are those lights?”

Lidia peered out to follow her gaze. “Would you believe it if I told you that they’re beetles?”

“Beetles? As in, bugs?”

“Yes, Ma’am. They’re hardy little things, native to the north. They emit a faint blue light. The Cal’derache encase them in specially formed glass that amplifies their luminescence.”

“How do they live in the glass?”

“It’s my understanding that they aren’t meant to live very long. A few weeks, and then the sphere must be replaced.”

“How…cruel.”

But it was beautiful. Eloisa had never seen anything quite like it. As they reached the land, the ground below them shimmered with the light, the lapis sparkles making her think of an aura twinkling with peace and solemnity.

“I believe that is Cal’en Fasha,” Lidia said, lifting her finger to point.

In the distance, set on a hill overlooking the city, was a fortress that was taller than it was wide, its black spires reaching up to brush the clouds. The hill around it, and much of the earth, was covered in white, and Eloisa couldn’t help but remark on it.

“Snow, Ma’am,” Lidia said patiently.

Of course.

Though she inwardly berated herself for not realizing it, she had seen snow only twice in her life. The first time had been when she was a child, visiting her mother’s home nation of Saleta. Saleta was so far south that the climate was temperate and they experienced a brief, mild winter. She could remember being fascinated by the snow, though compared to this, it had been scarcely more than a light dusting. She hadn’t seen snow again until the day before, when the force of the sovereign’s power had frozen the air.

The palanquin got a particularly hard jostle as they began their descent. The flier carrying them swooped low, and then evened out, repeating the pattern several times until Eloisa could make out houses and buildings below. Everything appeared to be constructed from the same gray stone, which might have seemed drab had Eloisa not spent her life in a place almost devoid of color.

Up close, Cal’en Fasha looked more accommodating than it had at first glance. There were many windows of painted glass, though the snow accumulations made it difficult to make out any one depiction. All of them glowed with the same blue light as the city below, giving the fortress a mystical air.

There was no sign of Lord Caleth when the palanquin landed on the atrium. She was briefly relieved, until she remembered that seeing him again was inevitable.

She wanted nothing more than to remain in the confines of the palanquin. Everything that would lead to their meeting was already in motion. There was no path forward that didn’t include him, and she knew that if she did try to remain on the palanquin, she would most certainly be wrested from it. Knowing this did not stop her from doing all she could to delay the inevitable.

“Excuse me, Lidia,” she said, managing to get the words past the bile that was rising in her throat. “I must say my afternoon prayers.”

She got down on her knees and for once, spoke her prayers only in her mind. Her prayer was both selfish and self-effacing, as she apologized for all the times she was irreverent in her worship, and vowed that if Phaeda would please, please take mercy on her, she would become her most ardent follower, more pious even than Sister Verity.

She wasn’t sure how long she prayed for, but several times Lidia had to stall for her. Eloisa could hear her speaking both in Cal’derache to a man and in Atolian to the armored woman.

Finally, the maid came to her and placed a hand on her back.

“Ma’am… Eloisa. It’s time for us to go now.”

In all the time she’d been praying, no revelations came to her. She did not hear Phaeda’s voice, sense her presence, or feel her strength. All she felt was more hollow and more alone than when she’d begun.

It was snowing outside; large, heavy flakes whipped around in the wind as they completed their descent to the ground, where they blanketed the atrium’s courtyard.

An armored man approached as Eloisa started to step down. Lidia held up her hand and said something to him in Cal’derache that halted his advance. Eloisa gave her a questioning look, and Lidia explained that he’d meant to carry her, as she didn’t have proper footwear.

Though the snow stung her bare ankles, Eloisa was vastly more comfortable than she would have been, being carried by a man. She could still remember Philomen’s touch, the heavy weight of his arm around her shoulders, and the feel of his fingers digging into her chin. It sickened her to think that those touches might soon feel preferable to what Lord Caleth would do to her.

The armored woman had dismounted and was waiting for them a short distance away. Her hair was windswept and her lips were blue, but she stood poised and elegant, unruffled by the cold. Her expression was neutral, but Eloisa couldn’t resist a glance at her silvery aura, which sparked with impatience.

None of the five armored men that flanked her turned out to be Lord Caleth. As they set out towards the fortress, the woman said in her accented Atolian that the sovereign would be waiting for Eloisa in the observatory.

“I will first take you to your room to clean yourself,” the woman said.

Eloisa was not in the habit of wondering what others thought of her, but she knew herself to be lacking in any grace or majesty as she shambled behind the woman, shivering and clutching a blanket around herself.

The inside of the fortress was every bit as cold as Eloisa had predicted, but still a relief from the wind and snow. At the end of a spacious corridor, the group stopped to speak. Lidia didn’t translate what they were saying, but it seemed that the woman was giving orders to each of the men in turn.

While they spoke, Eloisa satisfied her curiosity by going over to one of the wall sconces. Tucked into the sconce on a crystal base was the glowing sphere. From one angle, she could see only the luminescent surface, but if she turned her head, the glass thinned and she could see that the front was some sort of thick lens. Within the sphere was a small clump of moss and a beetle with a rounded carapace and a glowing underbelly.

“Ma’am.”

Eloisa was startled when Lidia put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see that the men had departed and only the woman remained, her aura crackling with impatience.

“Apologies,” she said, lowering her head.

For the rest of their journey through the fortress, she was too preoccupied with her own dread to notice much of anything. She was so on edge that she tensed each time they passed by an open door, as if expecting Lord Caleth to leap from behind it.

After going up a flight of stairs, they entered what seemed to be the central wing. As they neared the end of the hall, the woman finally spoke to them.

“Your maid will stay in the servant’s quarters below. I will have someone show her there shortly.”

Lidia said, “The princess will need me close, in order to translate for her.”

The woman stopped walking and pointed to the door nearest to them. “Your room is here, princess.” She pointed to the other side of the hall, at the door opposite to Eloisa’s. “Mine is there. I will be in Cal’en Fasha for the duration of your courtship. If you have need of a translation, you may come to me. Knock, first.”

Not waiting for a response, the woman pushed open the door and went inside. Eloisa was drawn to the room at once, as when it had opened, a burst of warm air had washed over her.

The first and only thing she noticed about the room was the tall hearth, which held a roaring fire. Eloisa rushed to it, her clothes and hair dripping as the snow began to melt.

Behind her, she could hear the woman speaking to Lidia. “There is water there, and clothes more suited for the climate. Clean her up, and I will be back in short order to take her upstairs.”

Before the woman could depart, Eloisa turned and addressed her. “Wait. May I have your name?”

The woman looked at her over her shoulder. “I am Jedora, Mesrn of Ha’seachjr.”

Eloisa stared, waiting for her to explain.

The woman’s lip curled. “Did they teach you nothing of our language or our culture?”

“They?” Eloisa asked, her mind going at once to the Sisters.

“Your brother? Your handlers? Whoever has been responsible for your education?”

Lidia came to her rescue. “The princess is well versed in southern cultures and traditions, but this engagement has happened so quickly. She hasn’t had time to learn your ways, but she is a quick study.”

Jedora looked her over a final time, her opinion of Eloisa not the least bit elevated, and then departed.

When they were alone, Eloisa muttered, “I’m not certain of what I’ve done to make her dislike me so.”

Lidia waved a hand. “Try not to let her worry you. She is the leader of the sovereign’s paladins. It is her job to protect him, and to be suspicious of you so that he doesn’t have to be.”

“She is a paladin? How can a woman be a paladin?”

Having grown up in a society of powerful women, Eloisa had no illusions about what women were and were not capable of. She thought a woman could compete in nearly all regards with their male counterparts, but she did not see how they could be warriors. How could a woman, no matter how good a fighter, compete with a male that could phase?

“I won’t pretend I understand the logistics of it, all I know is what she told me,” Lidia said, taking the wet blanket from around Eloisa’s shoulders. “What I can infer is that she must be formidable, to have risen to such a rank in spite of her limitations.”

Lidia helped her to get undressed, and then washed her with warm saltwater from a basin. Afterwards, she helped Eloisa into a dress made of tough, unfamiliar fibers. The material would have been uncomfortable on her skin, but the inside of the dress was lined with fur that was magnificently soft. It was very luxurious, but she didn’t protest.

Boots were left for her as well, but they were several sizes too big and so she had to put her wet, southern slippers back on. They squished as she walked.

Outside of the room, Jedora was waiting for them, along with a slender, chestnut-haired female of indeterminate age.

Jedora didn’t bother with a greeting. “You, maid. This is Graja. She will take you to your quarters.”

Eloisa looked to Lidia, who returned her glance with an aura of worry.

Lidia said, “I’d rather remain with the princess until I am not needed.”

“And you are not needed. I speak her language well enough, and you speak mine like a child. Go, now.”

Lidia looked to Eloisa, perhaps wanting her to assert herself. Eloisa floundered, uncertain how to explain why she needed Lidia without lying. While Eloisa hesitated, Graja took Lidia by the arm and began leading her away.

Eloisa managed to remain calm as Jedora led her down a separate corridor and away from Lidia. She knew that she needed to keep her wits about her if she was going to get through what was to come next.

“When you meet the sovereign, you will not speak unless spoken to,” Jedora said. “You seem inclined towards brevity, and that is good. I loathe hearing your language even more than I loathe speaking it, so do not waste my breath with frivolities.”

Eloisa simply nodded.

“Why are you always so quiet? You’re not like any Atolian woman I’ve encountered.”

The answer came easy to her. “I am never half so silent, it is just that so much has happened all at once. I believe I am in a state of overwhelm.”

Jedora had slowed enough that Eloisa managed to keep pace walking alongside her.

“Was there another you wished to wed?” Jedora asked. By her tone she did not sound interested, but she didn’t strike Eloisa as the sort to make idle conversation.

“No.”

“Have you children?”

“I’ve never married.”

Jedora waited, until it became clear that Eloisa’s response was not sufficient.

“I have no children.”

Jedora pursed her lips. “Then what is it you pine for? It certainly is not your brother.”

Eloisa’s mind went to her lightlace and where she’d left it at the bottom of the bed in the room she shared with Selia. She thought of the smells of starched linens and bathing powders. In the back of her mind, she could hear the sounds of pens dipping into inkwells, tapping on the rims of the jars, and furiously scribbling.

“Home,” she said softly. “I miss my home.”

Jedora made a contemplative sound, and made no effort to resume their conversation until they came to a corridor with a winding staircase.

“I hope you do not tire easily. It is almost five hundred steps to the top.”

Eloisa nearly smiled. She did almost twice as many as a matter of daily course in the tower, and never mind The Climb.

“I will do my best.”

She ascended the stairs with minimal difficulty, though her muscles ached by the time she reached the top. It was not lack of practice, but lack of sufficient nutrients. She had not yet eaten since leaving the tower, and it was beginning to wear on her constitution.

At the top of the staircase there was a small landing, and in front of it, a door. Jedora knocked twice, and received an immediate response.

“Edrushta.”

The voice behind the door was masculine, deep, and spoke with the easy authority of one accustomed to being obeyed.

As Jedora pushed the door open, blue light spilled into the corridor, accompanied by a rush of cool air. Eloisa recognized the scent on the gust, and it compounded her sense of dread.

Like a coy child being introduced to a stranger, Eloisa positioned herself behind Jedora’s back as they entered the room. She kept her feet planted on the ground as Jedora greeted him in their native tongue.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest and the bile was back in her throat. She feared that the second Jedora stepped out of the way, she would either vomit or faint.

Fainting would be good. I should faint.

In fact, she could faint every time they were together. How many times could she faint in his presence before he decided she was not worth marrying? And for that matter, how could he possibly marry her if she couldn’t be conscious to speak her vows?

When Jedora finally turned, it was to look down at Eloisa in disbelief.

“Do you wish to meet the sovereign, or is it your plan to hide behind my back?”

Eloisa responded honestly before realizing silence might be more prudent.

“My plan was to faint, but I can’t seem to compel myself to do so.”

Jedora squeezed her eyes shut and muttered something under her breath. Then her hand came up around Eloisa, pressing against her back. She stepped out of the way, making her step forward with firm, but gentle force.

Her gaze cast downward, Eloisa found herself staring at Lord Caleth’s dark boots. She wondered how long she could get away with staring at them, and if he would assume it was some strange, Atolian custom for a woman to stare only at her suitor’s feet. Perhaps she could have Lidia tell him as much.

“Eloisa.”

Lord Caleth spoke her name with near-perfect pitch. She heard his whispering accent at the end, in the way he didn’t enunciate the final syllable, but instead formed it in a trailing breath. She thought it sounded as if even her name was running away from him.

Despite her conviction to keep her eyes down, she couldn’t help but glance up as he addressed her. Once she saw him, there was no looking away. In that moment, had Phaeda herself chosen to manifest into the room, Eloisa wasn’t certain she’d be able to tear her eyes from the sovereign.