Chapter Four
ADALE
The twins, Brandt and Svana, had been born in the year between Albion and Adale. One might have assumed that the four would be close companions, but this was untrue. Adale and Albion had never liked spending time with the twins, and the twins seemed equally unhappy whenever circumstances forced the four together.
Brandt and Svana seemed to immediately dislike almost everyone they’d ever encountered, though they made an exception for one another. They were similar in many ways: both of medium height and oval-faced, with oddly light chestnut hair and blue eyes, quick to shout at servants and sneer at courtiers. Their one virtue was that they seemed to dislike life at court and spent most of their time at home.
Adale was in a terrible mood by the time she arrived in the throne room. She hadn’t wanted to leave Esofi to begin with, and now it seemed that the twins intended to call their engagement into question. And yes, perhaps Adale was still not entirely clear on what she actually wanted, but she knew she did not want her cousins anywhere near Esofi.
Besides, I still have the upper hand, Adale reminded herself. I am still the crown princess. Even if Esofi were to pick one of them over me, I am the only one who can make her a queen.
That, of course, was working under the optimistic assumption that Esofi would not simply assign her waiting lady to murder Adale in order to clear the way to the throne. But Adale was…fairly certain that Esofi would never do such a thing.
What Adale really had to worry about was the waiting lady deciding to murder her of her own initiative.
“Adale,” said her father as she entered the throne room. “There you are. You missed the arrival.” He glanced at the four figures standing before him: Adale’s aunt and uncle and their son and daughter. Adale plastered a bright smile across her face. Though she had no love for her cousins, her aunt and uncle were far more tolerable.
“Uncle Radulfr,” she said. “I had no idea you were coming to visit. If only I’d been told to expect you.”
“This was an unexpected excursion, I assure you,” said Radulfr, glancing down at his children with a hint of disapproval. Neither of them even bothered to pretend to smile at Adale.
Aunt Theu was the first one to move, wrapping Adale in one of her large, stifling hugs. “You are looking so well, Adale!” she gushed. “It seems every time I come to court, you are off with your companions. I feel as though I’ve not seen you in years.”
That was a bit of an exaggeration, for they had all seen each other at Albion’s funeral three months ago, but Adale did not contradict her.
“Well, I suppose we should come directly to the heart of the matter,” said Radulfr. “We have received word that Princess Esofi of Rhodia has refused to sign a marriage contract.”
“She has refused nothing,” said Adale quickly. Too quickly, she realized. “We’ve merely had some scheduling conflicts.”
“The point remains,” said Brandt. “She is without a fiancée.”
“Only until the contract is signed,” Adale insisted.
“And when will that be?” asked Svana, her tone mocking.
“Do you mean to court her then? Both of you?” demanded Adale, looking from one twin to the other. “If you’ve come all the way here for that, you’re wasting your time. She intends to become the queen of Ieflaria, and neither of you can give her that.”
“Perhaps,” said Svana, snapping open a fan and fluttering it. “Perhaps not.”
“There is no perhaps about it.” Adale could feel her face heating. “I am the crown princess.”
“And everyone knows how seriously you take your post,” retorted Svana.
“I must admit, I am surprised by your hostility,” added Brandt before Adale could respond. “We thought you’d be pleased to hand your responsibilities over to one of us. Or perhaps you are only being contrary to spite us.”
“Brandt,” said Radulfr sharply. “Mind your words.”
“We do not intend to steal anything or anyone away from the crown princess.” Svana addressed Adale’s parents. “We only wish to offer ourselves as alternatives. Either of us would be a more suitable spouse and regent.”
Adale’s parents exchanged looks, and she wondered if they would tell the twins to return home. But instead, Saski said, “We understand your concerns. But Princess Esofi has already agreed to an engagement with Adale. We do not intend to stray from this plan unless we have no alternatives.”
“But what if we do not?” Radulfr’s voice was soft, his eyes concerned. “Intentionally or not, Adale has dealt Princess Esofi a grave insult. We cannot be certain that Esofi means to sign a marriage contract, regardless of what she promises. I do not wish to seem as though I am seeking to seize power through my children—”
“I would not believe that you are,” said Dietrich.
Radulfr’s eyes shone with relief. “We cannot go on like this. We all know it. The dragons are growing more aggressive. Valenleht is filled with refugees from the surrounding coastline. If Princess Esofi can bring Talcia’s magic back to Ieflaria…” He looked at Adale. “Under normal circumstances, I would never recommend passing over a rightful heir. But if Esofi will agree to marry one of the twins, at least Ieflaria will not be forced to go without her magic.”
“But, wait,” protested Adale. “She hasn’t refused to marry me—that’s just speculation. She was ill that night. It wasn’t—”
“Then you’ve nothing to worry about, now do you?” interrupted Svana.
“This is ridiculous!” cried Adale. “Father. Mother. You cannot possibly—”
“Adale,” said King Dietrich heavily. “Your uncle is correct. We cannot afford to lose Princess Esofi. If she agrees to sign the marriage contract as it is now, then we will say nothing more about it. But if she refuses…”
“I do not believe she will,” Adale insisted. Both of the twins gave identical little laughs, and she turned on them. “Did you have something to contribute?”
“Nothing whatsoever,” said Svana in a light, airy voice.
If only they hadn’t been in the throne room, under the eyes of their parents and all the castle guards, Adale would have fought them both, simultaneously, if not simply for the joy of biting at flesh and tearing at hair. But Adale somehow managed to retain her composure.
“Very well,” she said. “If that is all?”
Her father gave a nod, and Adale did not wait to be formally dismissed. She was gone from the room in an instant. Minutes later, she found herself walking the familiar path back to her room.
She would need help, that much was certain. She knew her cousins would not wait to hear Esofi’s opinion on the marriage contract before they began courting her. And if the twins planned to formally court Esofi, that meant Adale would need to do the same. That meant gifts, flowers, and sweets and… Adale wasn’t certain what else. She wasn’t really one for formal courtship. Perhaps one of her mother’s ladies could tell her the specifics. She knew it required gifts, though. And there might have been something about handkerchiefs involved.
Her mother’s ladies would know. She would ask them immediately.
Adale raised a hand to her hair. Perhaps her appearance could do with some improvement too. Adale did not really think there was anything wrong with the way she looked, but compared to her cousins…
Adale forced herself to return to reality. She’d been acting as though she meant to marry Esofi and become the queen of Ieflaria. But she still wasn’t certain that was what she wanted.
She was running out of time. Sooner or later, she would have to choose.
Adale thought once again of giving up her place in the succession and running off to start a new life. But for some reason, instead of relief, all she felt was a heavy sense of shame.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the sight of a man and a woman who were pressed against the wall, lips locked together in a kiss. She immediately recognized the man as one of the castle footmen—Audo, his name was. But the woman was unfamiliar. From her dress, Adale would have guessed that she was one of the royal huntsman’s assistants, but Adale knew all of the huntsman’s staff by name.
At the sound of Adale’s incredulous half laugh, the woman pulled away from the man and ran off down the hall. Adale looked at Audo, who was still pressed against the wall, looking dazed.
“I don’t even know who she was!” he protested when Adale raised her eyebrows.
Adale gave a snort and continued on her way, her mind already back to Esofi. In Adale’s experience, people like Esofi were almost unattainable when one considered the amount of trouble one must go to in order to win them. Who would want to spend their energies at such a task when there were plenty of others, men and women alike, who did not need nearly as much effort in order to be persuaded?
And yet, Adale was looking forward to bringing her flowers. When had that happened? How had it happened?
Am I just being selfish? Selfish behavior was not unusual for her, but according to her parents’ philosophy, giving up her freedom to marry Esofi was the height of selflessness. But Adale was less convinced. What if she had merely traded one fixation for another?
No. It is not the same. I wanted to run away so I could be happy. I want to marry Esofi so she can be happy or at least happier than she’d be with the twins. It will make me happy too, but that’s not the reason I’m doing it…
…is it?
Adale glanced up and realized she was not standing in front of her own bedroom door, as she’d intended, but in front of Albion’s. Her breath caught in her throat at the realization.
Adale rested her hand against the familiar wooden door. If she pretended, she could make herself believe that he was in there, just waiting for her to knock, and then he’d let her in and she’d explain everything and he’d laugh at the funny parts and get serious about the parts that were serious, but then when she was done explaining, he’d smile warmly and say that there was no need to worry because he knew exactly what to do and what to say and…
She tried the door. It was locked, and for some reason, that made her want to cry. She crouched down and tried to peer into the keyhole.
“It should have been me,” she whispered into the lock. “Nobody would have missed me.”
There were things, Adale knew, that people said at every funeral about the deceased. Even if the man in the casket was a drunkard who’d never worked a day in his life, upon his death, he would become the noblest soul in the entire kingdom, cruelly ripped away from his family and friends at such a young age. “Such a kind man!” they would all say to each other. “Kinder than any I’d ever met. Have you ever known such a gentle heart? And so wise, for someone so young. He was the best of his parents’ children. He would have been a great man, if only, if only…”
They were the lies that had been told at every funeral since the beginning of time.
But they had not been lies when they’d said them about Albion.
“Crown Princess?” A servant—Odila, Adale’s memory supplied—was eyeing her nervously. “Do you require help?”
Adale rose quickly. There was already a cramp in her knee from her unnatural position in front of the door.
“No, no, I’m all right,” Adale lied, swiping at her own eyes, which had apparently become irritated by some dust.
“If there is something you require, Mistress Abbing has all the keys,” said Odila. Then she scurried off, as though suddenly remembering an urgent task. Adale wanted to call a thank-you after her, but her throat felt oddly harsh. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself.
“Crown Princess?”
Adale turned around at the familiar voice. Esofi was standing there before her, attended by only one of her ladies.
“Princess,” said Adale. “I thought you were going to the hospital.”
“There has been a change in plans,” said Esofi in a tight little voice. “Are you…are you well? Have you been locked out of your rooms?”
“What? I…” Adale looked at the door. “Oh. No. No, no. This isn’t my room. It’s…it is, or it was…Albion’s.”
“I see,” said Esofi quietly.
“I don’t actually know why I’m here.” Adale shook her head. She wondered what Esofi, who seemed to have so much trust in the gods, would say about Albion’s death. She wondered if she should ask, if it would make her feel better or worse. If Esofi said that it was all a part of some incomprehensible plan, Adale might actually slap her.
And what if she blames me for his death? There was a chance Esofi had heard the story and already did, but perhaps she’d managed to miss it. Adale knew her parents blamed her, no matter what they claimed, and always would. It was strange to realize it, but Adale did not want forgiveness. She did not, and would never, deserve it.
Esofi pressed her lips together, but she didn’t seem angry. She looked…thoughtful.
“I still have those letters,” she said. “The ones Albion sent me.”
“Oh,” said Adale. “I— Yes, I remember. You told me…”
“If you would like to review them with me,” said Esofi, “I would… I think perhaps…it would be…”
“Yes,” Adale interjected. “Yes, I would like that.”
“Come with me, then,” said Esofi.
They walked together to Esofi’s rooms with Esofi’s lady trailing behind them. Adale wondered where the other two had gotten to. Perhaps they were already in Esofi’s room, waiting for their princess to return.
They arrived at Esofi’s door, and she unlocked it. Adale had only caught a glimpse of the inside once, on the night she’d brought the kitten, but now she went inside for the first time. It was not too different from her own rooms in layout, though it did seem to be more traditionally decorated.
“Wait here,” Esofi told Adale and then vanished through the door that Adale supposed led to her private rooms. Esofi’s waiting lady sat down on the sofa and smiled brightly.
“What was your name, again?” Adale asked.
“Mireille of Aelora, Your Highness,” said the girl. Then she leaned in a bit closer to whisper to Adale. “She likes you, you know.”
“Oh,” said Adale, taken aback. “Does she?”
Mireille nodded knowledgeably but said no more.
“Where is Lexandrie?” asked Esofi, returning with a bundle of old papers in her hands. The kitten was balanced on her shoulder, looking around at everything with bright gray eyes as though trying to decide where to spring to first.
“Not here, I think,” said Mireille, not sounding too concerned. She found a sewing bag on the floor and plucked a half-completed embroidery piece from it. “Maybe she’s trying to get some Ieflarians to fight over her glove.”
Adale had no idea what this meant, and neither Mireille nor Esofi chose to elaborate. Esofi settled on the opposite couch, her skirts fluffing up around her like a great wave, and began sorting through the letters.
“I’ve all but the earliest ones,” murmured Esofi, more to herself than Adale. “Sit beside me. They’re all in Ieflarian, so you won’t have any trouble reading them.”
Adale took the seat next to Esofi. The princess’s elaborate dress kept her from getting as close as she would have liked, but it was still closer than they’d have been allowed if they were in public. Adale glanced at Mireille, but the waiting lady seemed focused only on her embroidery, though she appeared to be having difficulty keeping down a smile.
“Here’s one where he wrote of you,” said Esofi, passing a sheet of paper over to Adale. “You see? He says you two went riding together.”
Adale checked the date on the letter and saw that it was almost five years old. She did not remember the day or the ride, but there had been so many like it that she supposed remembering one specific trip would be impossible.
“I really must organize these,” sighed Esofi. “I was reading them on the journey and now they’re all out of order.”
“Give me another,” said Adale, suddenly feeling as though she was starving. “Any one, it doesn’t matter, I don’t have to be in it.”
Esofi gave her another piece of paper, and Adale read every word, though most of it didn’t make as much sense as she’d imagined it would, as it all responded to a conversation that Adale had never seen. But it was still a wonderful gift, proof that Albion had once been real and alive and loved…
Dearest Esofi, all the letters began. His handwriting had always been so much better than hers. Adale wondered how Esofi’s letters back to him had been addressed. Dearest Albion, maybe? Or perhaps more formally than that, knowing Esofi…
Esofi had gone silent. She was staring at another letter and blinking very quickly, over and over and over again.
“Mireille,” said Esofi at last, her voice oddly shaky. “Water, if you would…”
Mireille was up immediately, hurrying all around the suite to find a pitcher for her princess. But it seemed there was nothing to be found.
“Ridiculous!” cried Mireille. “Do they wish you to die of dehydration? Give me just a moment, Princess. I’ll find you something…” And she left the suite.
Adale felt a little jolt of surprise as the door clicked shut behind her. She and Esofi were alone. Surely, Esofi felt that it was inappropriate…or perhaps her thoughts were on other things.
Esofi removed the kitten from her shoulder and set it down in her lap.
“Do you like him?” Adale asked. When Esofi looked at her in confusion, she added, “The kitten, I mean. I…probably shouldn’t have given you a live animal without asking. I…I’m not very… I’m sorry.”
“I do like him,” said Esofi, one delicate gloved hand stroking the kitten’s back, which arched under her touch. “We’ve decided to call him Cream.” She set the pages down and looked at Adale. “Besides, I think a little bit of spontaneity won’t hurt me.”
“Oh,” said Adale. For some reason, she was having trouble coming up with a suitable response. Esofi was so close, and they were alone, finally… Should she do something? Was Esofi expecting her to do something? Had she and Mireille planned for them to be alone? Or…maybe not. Maybe Esofi was frightened and uncomfortable and afraid Adale might try something inappropriate.
She’ll beat you even more easily than she beat Theodoar. Realistically, she was in more danger from Esofi than Esofi was from her.
“Your cousins mean to court me,” said Esofi. It was not a question.
“Yes,” said Adale. “Who told you?”
Esofi shrugged. “I guessed. You already told me they would be suitable candidates. It seems they’ve had the same idea.”
“Yes, but I’ve changed my mind,” said Adale. “I mean to marry you.”
“So you say,” murmured Esofi, gazing up at Adale through her eyelashes. Adale very slowly brought one hand up to cup the side of Esofi’s face, half expecting the princess to scream or slap her.
“Mind the powder,” said Esofi very quietly. “You’ll have white hands.”
“I don’t mind,” Adale replied, suddenly feeling as though she was in a dream. She brushed her thumb across Esofi’s lips, the gesture leaving a little spot of pink color on her fingertip. Esofi closed her eyes.
“Shall I stop?” whispered Adale.
“No,” breathed Esofi.
Adale leaned forward and pressed her lips to Esofi’s. Everything about her was soft, as if the princess was made of nothing but feathers and cream. She was warm, too, and Adale wanted to pull her close, to press their bodies together. But perhaps that would have been pushing her luck a bit too far, and besides, the complicated and alien Rhodian dress left her uncertain.
“Crown Princess,” murmured Esofi against Adale’s mouth. She was not returning the kiss, but she wasn’t resisting, either. It occurred to Adale that the princess had no idea what she was meant to do in this situation.
Adale broke the kiss, and Esofi opened her eyes. Most of her lip paint was gone, but she didn’t seem to have noticed.
“I-I’m sorry,” said Adale awkwardly. “I…”
“Do not be,” said Esofi. “If I’d wanted you to stop, I would have said so.” She took Adale’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Or do you regret it already?”
“No!” cried Adale. “Not at all. Not like that.”
“Good.” Esofi gave a small nod. Adale couldn’t see her moving, but Esofi seemed to somehow be sitting nearer to her than she’d been just a few minutes before. Esofi’s other hand moved to touch the side of Adale’s face. The texture of her lace glove felt odd against her cheek.
“You never wear powder,” observed Esofi.
“No,” said Adale. “I’ve never liked it.”
“Mm,” said Esofi. “Perhaps you’re wiser than I. The trouble is, once you begin wearing it, you can never stop, or people will think you’re ill.”
Adale laughed, and Esofi withdrew her hand. “But then you must not have any trouble pretending to be sick when you want to get out of something.”
“Get out of something?” Esofi repeated.
“You know. Ceremonies. Or services.”
Esofi blinked up at her. “Oh. I suppose I never thought of that.” But fortunately, she didn’t seem offended or annoyed by the implication that she might want to shirk her responsibilities. “I suppose anything I would have wanted to avoid involved my siblings, back in Rhodia.”
“You have many siblings, don’t you?” asked Adale. She couldn’t recall where she’d heard that, but it sounded correct to her ears.
“Yes,” said Esofi. “Two brothers, three sisters.”
“And you weren’t close to any of them?”
“No. I suppose I wasn’t.” Esofi looked distant. “I always knew…we all knew…that I would be leaving someday. We never discussed it, but I think we all decided it would be easier for everyone if I just…”
“That’s not right.” Adale was suddenly angry on Esofi’s behalf. “You didn’t deserve that, you should have been—they should have done the opposite, if they knew they were going to lose you!”
“Perhaps,” said Esofi.
“What about your parents?” asked Adale.
Esofi swallowed visibly. “My father is a good man,” she said at last. “Our people love him for his patience and understanding.”
“And your mother?”
“Oh, they love her too,” said Esofi in a brittle tone. “Everyone loves her.”
“I am sorry,” whispered Adale.
Esofi seemed to brighten a little. “Never mind that—I am free of them now. Ieflaria will be my home from now on. I will have another family, a better one.” Her fingers tightened around Adale’s.
“A family,” repeated Adale. “Do you mean…?”
“What?” asked Esofi.
“Everyone is wondering about heirs,” Adale said. “I suppose…there is the Change.” The Change was a ritual performed by the priestesses of Dayluue. Most people tried it at least once in their life just for the novelty, though it wouldn’t last for very long unless the person being transformed had a soul that was willing to remain in its new body forever.
Adale knew her own soul was not willing, but a few hours would probably be enough time. Other women had managed it.
“Ah,” said Esofi. She suddenly seemed nervous. “I did not think you were ready to speak of such things.”
“Maybe I’m not,” admitted Adale. “Maybe I won’t be for a few years yet.”
“We have time.” Esofi looked distinctly relieved, and Adale wondered if she was dreading the possibility of children just as much as Adale was. “When you are ready…”
“And if I’m never ready?” Adale regretted the words as soon as she’d spoken them, even though they were, as far as Adale knew, the truth.
“Then we never will,” said Esofi. “There will be other heirs, other families. Your line will not die out with us. I’m sure the older nobles and your parents’ advisors won’t like it, but they cannot force us.”
“You are truly certain you will not become impatient with me?” asked Adale.
“I swear it before Iolar and Talcia and any other gods who may be listening,” said Esofi firmly. She still had not released her hold on Adale’s hand. “I am in no more of a hurry than you are.”
“Oh,” said Adale. “I thought perhaps…some noblewomen want nothing more than to start producing heirs.”
“Not I,” said Esofi. “There are so many other things to accomplish, after all. We’ve no shortage of children in the world. What we do have a shortage of is battlemages.” Esofi looked guilty. “Perhaps I should have gone to the temple today.”
“Why didn’t you?” asked Adale.
Esofi glanced down at the kitten in her lap. “Selfishness, I suppose.”
“How do you mean?”
“I was curious about your cousins,” Esofi admitted. “I’d hoped to encounter them today to see for myself what they were like, but they retired to their rooms so quickly, I could not even catch a glimpse. I know I should be focusing on the establishment of the university, but I’ve been spending so much time on it, I thought a single day away wouldn’t harm anyone.”
“And has it?” asked Adale.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Esofi gave a little shrug. “Still, I shouldn’t be indulging myself so. Ieflarians die every time a dragon attacks. I should—”
“I don’t think one day will make a difference when the university hasn’t even been built yet,” pointed out Adale.
“We cannot know,” Esofi said. “And now I find myself wondering if we should begin classes without the building. Construction will take a year, at the very least. But if we can begin training people earlier…it might make a difference.”
“Well, the day is not done yet,” Adale said. “Perhaps you can still go. Skip the hospital and go straight to the Temple of Talcia. They’ll be delighted to see you, I’m sure. And I can…I can accompany you if you like.”
“Yes,” said Esofi, her fingertips playing across the surface of Adale’s palm. “I—only if you want to, though. I know you are…not so comfortable in temples.”
“It’s not the temples as much as the services,” admitted Adale. “But nevertheless, I will go with you gladly. I want to be where you are. Wherever that is.”
Esofi reached out and touched Adale’s face again, her open palm resting against Adale’s cheek. Adale leaned in, wrapped an arm around Esofi, and pulled her close enough to press their foreheads together. Esofi’s lips were irresistibly close, and Adale kissed her again. This time, Esofi returned the kiss, though she still seemed a bit uncertain.
Adale broke the kiss for a moment so that she could kiss Esofi’s nose instead, which earned her an adorable little giggle. All the anxiety seemed to have left Esofi’s body, and the princess curled closer to her, so close that Adale could feel Esofi’s heartbeat, slow and rhythmic, against her chest.
“You’re so beautiful,” marveled Adale.
“You truly think so?” There was genuine doubt in Esofi’s voice.
“I do,” said Adale, trailing one hand down Esofi’s back. “But surely you hear that all the time?”
There was the sound of someone fiddling with the lock outside, and Esofi immediately straightened up. The two disentangled rapidly, returning to their original sitting positions within a matter of seconds. A minute later, the door opened, and in came Mireille balancing a tray with a pitcher of water in one hand.
“Here I am!” she cried cheerfully. “So sorry for the delay. I wasn’t too long, was I?”
If Mireille could see the damage that Adale had done to Esofi’s makeup, she said nothing about it as she set the tray down on the nearest surface and began to pour out goblets of water.
“Here,” said Esofi, picking up another one of Albion’s letters. Adale had almost forgotten about them. “This one mentions you as well, I think. I’ll be surprised if we don’t find half of them have your name in them somewhere…”
Adale looked down at the letter but found that she could not focus on the words while Esofi’s body was so near to hers, close enough that Adale could feel the princess’s slow, measured breathing and see the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She wanted…
Adale forced her attention back to the page in front of her. But it seemed that she was not the only one having difficulty focusing.
“Mireille,” said Esofi after a few painfully long minutes. “I think I would like to visit the Temple of Talcia today.”
“Oh,” said Mireille, the disappointment in her tone evident. “Shall I find Lady Lexandrie, then?”
“Oh, never mind her,” said Esofi dismissively. “The crown princess will accompany us as well, I think…?” Esofi glanced at Adale.
“Yes!” said Adale quickly. “Yes, of course, I…yes.”
Mireille’s look of dismay had been replaced by a wide grin.
“Good,” said Esofi, setting her kitten down on the floor before rising to her feet. “Give me fifteen minutes to prepare, and I shall meet you at the stables. Mireille, tell the hostlers to ready a carriage.”
“Never mind that, I’ll do it myself,” said Adale.
“You?” asked Esofi. “But that would not be proper.”
“No, really, it’s fine,” said Adale, getting up as well. “You need your lady, and I’ve nothing to do in the meantime.”
Adale left the room with a warm feeling in her chest and a spring in her step. She wondered if Daphene or Lethea were sober enough to accompany her on the trip, but then she wondered if she wanted them with her, propriety be damned. Esofi’s lady would be there, and that was technically enough, but…
If only Theodoar was still here, she knew he could behave for long stretches of time if she bribed him enough.
Adale burst into her rooms, hands shaking from a strange mixture of anxiety and joy. “Are either of you awake?” she called, banging her fist on the door that led to the accompanying rooms. “Daphene! Lethea!”
It was Daphene that fumbled her way to the door, eyes still closed and hair in disarray. She might have been wearing last night’s dress.
“Castle on fire?” she mumbled.
“No, I—”
“Don’t care.” And she went to close the door in Adale’s face. Adale jammed her boot in the way before it could close.
“I need an attendant,” said Adale. “How quickly can you be ready? We are going to the Temple of Talcia.”
“In the middle of the night?” murmured Daphene, rubbing her sleeve against her eyes. “Why?”
“It’s almost noon,” said Adale sharply. “I need you to come and distract Esofi’s waiting lady for me.”
“Esofi?” Daphene seemed to wake a little. “Is that what this is about?”
“Yes,” said Adale. “I need you to meet me down at the stables in fifteen minutes.”
“Fift—!” But Adale was gone before Daphene could even begin her complaint.
The stables were not too crowded this time of day, though the hostler put on quite a show of being very busy the moment Adale walked through the doors. Adale told them of Esofi’s plans and then left them to prepare the carriage. In the meantime, she visited Warcry, who was in his stall.
“I’ve nothing for you today,” said Adale as he nipped at her collar, clearly hoping for apples or boiled sweets. Adale’s gaze went to the still-empty stall beside him. There was a slightly discolored spot on the door where the nameplate had been removed.
“I’m sorry,” Adale said quietly, rubbing her palm against Warcry’s nose. “I’m sorry.” She pressed her face into his neck and inhaled his familiar horse scent, warm hair and dry straw. At least he didn’t blame her. He might, if he were capable. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.
Esofi and Mireille arrived shortly, followed by Daphene ten minutes later. They got in the carriage and, accompanied by more guards than Adale thought was remotely necessary, headed out to the Temple of Talcia.
“Where are you going to get your students from?” asked Adale, trying to strike up another conversation. “Most of our citizens with Talcia’s magic just ignore it their whole lives.”
“I know,” said Esofi. “But I’m hoping an impressive new university will encourage them to start thinking about appreciating their gifts. Besides, after they complete their education, they will be all but assured a prestigious job defending their country.”
“If they are courageous enough,” pointed out Adale. “Some might be less eager to fight a dragon.”
“Perhaps,” said Esofi. “But for the sake of protecting their homes…”
“You must think I’m useless.” Adale laughed. “I’ve never even seen a live dragon, except from a very great distance, and it might have just been a very large hawk.”
“I would not want you to seek one out if you’ve no means of defending yourself!” cried Esofi. “Besides…”
“Besides what?” asked Adale, for Esofi suddenly looked very worried.
“Besides, I think you may see one soon enough,” Esofi murmured.
“What do you mean?” asked Adale.
“They are moving inward,” said Esofi. “Even your generals have spotted the patterns in their attacks. I believe their true target is Birsgen.”
“But we’ve been beating them!” protested Adale. “Most of the time, at least. And besides, we have your battlemages now. And you.”
Esofi’s severe expression lightened for just a moment. “Perhaps you are right. Even if an attack does come, maybe we will be able to fight them off with minimal losses. Still, it is never an easy victory when one fights a dragon.”
“Not even for you?” asked Adale.
“No,” said Esofi. “Not even for me. Every dragon has a unique personality and fighting style. It is much like fighting a Man, I suppose. And they are clever, even if they’ve lost most of their gifts. I consider myself very fortunate that I’ve never been forced to face one alone.”
“I think you could do it,” said Adale. “If you had to.”
Esofi gave a small laugh. “I pray it never comes to that.”
The carriage came to a halt, and they disembarked at the steps of the Temple of Talcia. It was nowhere near as large and impressive as the Great Temple of Iolar, though still, Adale thought, perfectly acceptable.
Esofi, though, was frowning deeply as she walked up the black marble steps that led to the temple itself. It was similar in layout to the Temple of Iolar, with a walled courtyard in front of the temple proper. This courtyard, however, was not quite as well-kept, and it seemed that many of the flowers had become overgrown.
The courtyard wasn’t busy at all. Aside from the temple birds, a staple of any of Talcia’s temples, the only signs of life there were a pair of acolytes, who were working to refill the feeders with seeds. At the sight of the princess’s approach, they began whispering to each other.
“I wish to speak to the archpriestess,” announced Esofi. “I have important news for her.”
The archpriestess was an old woman with a soft and wrinkled face and long, silver hair. She leaned heavily on a polished black walking stick for support as she emerged from the temple. An ordinary-ranked priestess was just behind her, looking concerned. Both women were dressed in the traditional midnight-blue colors of the goddess.
Esofi hurried forward, pausing only to curtsy briefly, before beginning to speak animatedly to the holy women. Adale glanced over at Daphene. Despite being dressed and upright, she still seemed to be asleep. Mireille was bright and awake, but her eyes had a sort of glazed look to them as well.
She’d forgotten how uncomfortable she always felt in temples. Even before Albion’s death, she’d never quite felt as though she belonged in them. Now, it felt like the entire temple had been constructed specifically to mock her.
Glancing around, Adale felt that familiar old resentment rising up in her chest. Foolish. It was all foolish. If the gods were still watching, if they hadn’t wandered off to do whatever the gods did before they’d created mankind, they were probably laughing at the antics of their children.
But… Adale hesitated. It had not been so when she’d spoken to Esofi about the Temple of Adranus. She had meant what she said, that she believed the gods wanted mankind to think and understand. Or at least, she’d meant it at the time. When she was next to Esofi, she could believe that maybe the gods were something other than malicious and mocking.
But when she was standing in a temple, with its cold stone walls and blatantly materialistic displays, it was hard to believe that she had ever felt anything other than disdain.
The archpriestess was now indicating something off in another direction, probably telling Esofi about the size of the temple’s lands. Adale knew she should be listening, but it was hard enough to keep her breathing from coming in jagged, heavy spurts without having to think about Esofi’s hypothetical university.
The University of Esofi. Adale gave a short, awkward sound that was less of a laugh and more of a sharp exhale. Fortunately, Esofi and the priestesses did not seem to notice.
Adale had the sudden need to move, to run. She began to walk the length of the courtyard, leaving the two waiting ladies to stare after her in confusion. Carved into the courtyard’s inner walls were scenes of forests under moonlight, complete with wolves and deer and rabbits. There was something odd in the marble clouds, too. Adale paused to give it a hard stare and realized that it was a dragon.
Adale found it strange that such a violent and destructive creature would be depicted in any temple. Perhaps Esofi would have an explanation, if Adale asked.
The priestesses were leading Esofi in the direction of the inner temple, where services would be held, and Adale hurried after them. The archpriestess was saying something about the size of their congregations, and Esofi was nodding with rapt interest.
Inside the temple was not unlike any other temple, dimly lit and silent and a little bit musty. Adale had been inside this temple many times before for Talcia’s holy days, and it looked more or less unchanged. Perhaps the priestesses had rearranged some statues or furniture out of boredom, or perhaps Adale’s memory was simply failing her.
“Our temple seats approximately one thousand,” the archpriestess was saying. “Though we only fill that many spots on the holy days, and then of course, we are terribly overcrowded. Do you attend the lunar services?”
“Always,” said Esofi lightly. Lunar services were not quite holy days, but they weren’t quite ordinary either. Unlike Iolar’s sunrise and sunset services, which were held once a week, the lunar service took place only once a month on the night of the full moon. Adale had not attended one since childhood.
“Then perhaps our numbers will increase,” said the archpriestess. Adale had a feeling she was right. Once people found out that the princess was a regular visitor to the temple, they would flood in simply to be seen in the same location.
“How many of Talcia’s temples are there in Birsgen?” asked Esofi.
“Four, including this one,” the archpriestess said.
“A small number, for such a large city,” murmured Esofi. “And you take in students for the study of magic?”
“When they come to us.” The archpriestess gave a shrug. “We’ve had none this year, and most of the ones we’ve had in the past turn out to have Adranus’s gifts instead. Even the girls. It is a pity, but we’ve come to accept it.”
Esofi went quiet, apparently deep in thought.
“It will have to do for now,” she said at last. “I am confident that things will change soon enough, though. If the building of the new university gets her attention…”
“It will still be a decade before any new mages are old enough to come to us for training.” The archpriestess’s eyes were hard, unimpressed. “Maybe longer.”
“Better a decade than never,” Esofi replied calmly. “And, once news of the university spreads, perhaps we will find some of our magically inclined citizens reconsidering their neglect of the gift.”
The archpriestess said nothing, and Adale thought she understood how the old woman felt. After what had to be decades of silence and inattention, mustering up even the smallest spark of hope probably felt like a waste of effort, doomed to end in nothing more than disappointment.
“Some of the mages I’ve brought with me from Rhodia are trained as teachers,” Esofi continued. “They are prepared to serve under your supervision and educate our new students. I have already approved their curriculum, but perhaps you would like to review it as well.”
The archpriestess gave a small nod but said nothing more. Esofi made a quiet humming noise to herself and began to move quietly through the temple, exploring. Adale noticed that even though the archpriestess seemed unmoved, the other priestesses were whispering eagerly to each other.
Fortunately, the visit did not drag on for as long as Adale had feared it might. Soon enough, they were back in the courtyard and descending the steps to the street. Esofi was quieter than Adale would have expected—she’d thought Esofi would be chattering animatedly about all her plans and hopes for the future, but this was not the case.
“In Rhodia,” she said at last, “the ceiling of the Temple of Talcia is made of glass. They uncover it for the lunar services, and it’s indescribably lovely. I think I would like to do something similar here.”
“Oh,” said Adale, but she supposed it was still better than burning it to the ground.
When they arrived back at the castle, it was past lunchtime, but Adale told Esofi not to worry about that and asked her to meet her in the courtyard at the same place they’d taken tea with Queen Saski. Esofi agreed, and Adale set off to the kitchens to see what leftovers she could find for them.
When Adale went out to the gardens, she saw that Esofi and Mireille were sitting at the table, as planned. But, to her horror, Svana and Brandt were there as well, sitting in chairs on either side of the princess. Svana was holding flowers, and Brandt had a small silk box.
Adale cleared her throat and set the “borrowed” dishes down on the table. Esofi smiled brightly at her.
“Oh, there you are,” she said. “I’ve finally met your cousins!”
“I see,” said Adale unhappily. “Brandt, what do you have there?”
“Just a simple gift to welcome Princess Esofi to our nation,” he said, smiling wide enough to show teeth. “We were so disappointed when we learned she had already gone out for the day.”
“I imagine you were,” said Adale. “Well, as we missed the noontime meal, I—”
“Oh, do not banish us so quickly, cousin.” Svana was now threading flowers from the bouquet into Esofi’s hair. To Adale’s horror, Esofi did not appear to be irritated by it, but was smiling as brightly as ever. “We’ve not been to court in so long. Tell us how you’ve been occupying yourself.”
Adale grabbed a tiny sandwich off the dish and gestured to some servants, signaling them to bring drinks.
“There is little to tell,” she began. “I—”
“As we suspected,” sighed Brandt.
“Princess Esofi,” said Svana, apparently forgetting that she’d only a moment ago asked Adale a question. “I have heard that you play the violin.”
Adale was about to object—she had never heard such a thing, and she was the one who actually lived in the castle!—but Esofi nodded vigorously around her mouthful of food.
“I should like to hear you play someday, then,” said Svana. “And perhaps I can sing for you in return.”
Adale’s blood flashed hot at the suggestion. For all her cousin’s faults, she could not criticize Svana’s unspeakably and infuriatingly beautiful voice. Valenleht was a port city, and Svana had been trained by the Mer. If there was any woman on the continent with the power to make others fall in love with her with her voice alone, Svana was that woman.
But she kissed me. Twice.
“I would like that, I think.” Esofi was smiling serenely. “I only wonder where my violin is. The servants put all my belongings in such odd places after I arrived. My ladies are still finding my stockings.”
“Oh, these servants.” Brandt rolled his eyes. “Useless, the lot of them. Now, at our estate, we have a fine staff that has served our family loyally for generations. If you saw the difference, you would flee Birsgen in horror.”
“Here, you!” cried Svana to the nearest servant in a high, sharp voice, as though she was commanding a dog. “Bring my mandolin.” She smiled at Esofi. “It’s such a lovely day. I’ll play something for you, and then you can do the same.”
“Oh.” Esofi was beginning to look a bit overwhelmed. “Adale, do you play?”
“No,” admitted Adale. “I had lessons on the pianoforte when I was young, but nothing ever came of it.”
“Crown Princess Adale is not so accomplished as one would expect for a woman of her status,” said Svana gleefully. “You should see her try to dance.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” said Esofi.
“Oh no, it is,” Brandt assured her.
“Well, I think it is unfair to expect anyone to be accomplished in all things,” Esofi murmured. “After all, we all have some area in which we are lacking.”
“Even you, Princess?” Svana asked. “I refuse to believe it.”
Esofi laughed, a tinge of pinkness showing on her cheeks.
“On the subject of dancing,” said Brandt, “Svana and I have been away from court for so long, we’ve missed the grand balls of Birsgen. We wish to host one in a few days’ time and would be honored if you would attend, Princess Esofi.”
“Oh!” said Esofi. “That does sound lovely. I’ve not been to any Ieflarian parties yet.”
“Then I expect you will be impressed,” said Svana.
“A ball, during mourning?” interjected Adale. “Don’t you think that’s disrespectful?”
“I don’t see how it’s any different than running around in the forest getting drunk and killing animals,” retorted Svana sharply. “Besides, the mourning period is practically over. Don’t pretend like you aren’t as tired of it as the rest of us.”
Adale wasn’t sure what was more infuriating—Svana’s disregard for Albion’s death or the fact that she was completely correct in her assessment that Adale wanted to be done with it.
Biting back the worst of her rage, she merely said, “You will look ridiculous in a black ball gown. Like a widow.”
“Then we shall not burden you with an invitation,” Svana snapped, her hands clenching into fists. She wanted to fight just as much as Adale did, but they could not—not with Esofi looking on. Fortunately, a servant finally arrived with Svana’s mandolin, and the argument was dropped.
“Here, do you know many Ieflarian songs?” asked Svana, her fingers gliding over the strings as if by instinct, picking out a familiar tune. “I’m afraid I don’t know any of Rhodia.”
“A few…” began Esofi, but Svana was already playing. It was a slow, melancholy tune that Adale only half recognized, not at all the traditional love ballad she’d been expecting. Svana began to sing, her sweet, high voice mournful.
“Once upon a midnight
When I was far from home
I wandered through the wilds
And thought myself alone
The mountain flowers were blooming
In spite of snow to be
And there I saw her walking
Her cloak swept o’er the leaves
Her eyes were like the evening
T’were stars beneath her skin
And when her lips did touch mine
I felt her light within.
And now that it is winter
With no work to attend
Perhaps I shall go walking
And meet her once again.”
Esofi was leaning forward, one elbow rested on the table. Her eyes were soft as she listened, and Adale felt her hatred for her cousin simmer away into something softer, at least for a moment.
“ESOFI HAS GIVEN us her answer,” said Saski.
Adale stood before her parents in their room once again. Two days had passed since the arrival of the twins, but only now had her mother and father summoned her to speak with them privately.
“Her answer?” Adale repeated. “To the betrothal? What does she say?”
Saski gave a small sigh and looked at Dietrich.
“What?” cried Adale.
“She has said that she does not wish to make her decision lightly,” said Saski. “And given the circumstances, I find I cannot blame her. She says she is considering your cousins, and I could do nothing to dissuade her.”
“What?” Adale could not help but feel betrayed. She had really thought Esofi had been starting to like her. They had read Albion’s letters together and shared their fears of the future. Esofi had kissed her! What more could anyone—
“Listen to me,” said Saski sharply. “She says she will announce her choice at the end of the mourning period. Your father and I will host a ball on that day, one that she cannot possibly refuse to attend. She will announce her decision there, and the contract will be signed on the spot. In the meantime, you will do nothing to jeopardize this.”
“If you hate the twins, send them home!” cried Adale.
“I cannot, do you realize that?” asked Saski. “If she refuses to marry you, she must marry someone. They are the most suitable candidates.”
Adale put her face in her hands. “I thought I was doing well. I really did.”
To her surprise, it was Dietrich who put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“We have noticed that you are spending time with Princess Esofi,” he said. “And we appreciate the effort you are making. But you must understand: in her eyes, your romantic compatibility is only a secondary concern. Esofi has been raised to be a queen. She will choose the partner who will make the best co-regent. Regardless of her personal feelings.”
“Then I don’t have a chance,” said Adale. She resolved to get in as many kisses as she could in the meantime, just to spite whichever of her cousins Esofi ultimately chose.
“We do not believe so,” said Saski. “What your father and I see in you is far more impressive than what we see in your cousins.”
“Being nice to servants isn’t enough to run a country!” protested Adale.
“It is not merely kindness, Adale,” said Saski. “It is their knowledge that you see them as Men, rather than slaves or cattle. What the Xytan Empire did to us has not quite faded from our collective memories. And you must realize that many of our citizens see the nobility as unapproachable and distant, despite our best efforts. Oftentimes, they are afraid to tell us their true thoughts, so greatly have they venerated us. But you have never felt compelled to hide your true self. I believe you could connect with our people in a way that no one from the Verheicht line ever has before.”
“But Esofi knows so many more things,” said Adale. “She knows how to—to fight dragons and plan battles. She thinks about the dangers—”
“And you think about our people,” completed Saski. “You are not meant to have the same traits as Esofi, Adale. You are meant to balance her. Esofi comes from a nation that, if I may be blunt, is known for its poor opinion of commoners. She needs you beside her so she does not treat our people the way her mother treats the Rhodians.”
That was not the first time Adale had heard someone imply there was something amiss with Esofi’s mother. Remembering Esofi’s own words on the subject, she frowned deeply. “What do we know of the queen of Rhodia?”
Saski looked surprised. “Queen Gaelle? She is—” She looked at Dietrich. “—she is nothing like Esofi to say the very least, and we can thank the gods for that. Why do you ask?”
“I only wish to understand Esofi better,” said Adale. “Her upbringing must have been very different from mine.”
“You can scarcely imagine,” said Saski dryly.
ADALE SET HER jaw and attempted to yawn without actually opening her mouth. Under normal circumstances, she would not have cared about being seen yawning in the middle of a service, but this was the lunar service, and Esofi was sitting only a few seats over.
Against her better judgment, Adale had accepted the help of her mother’s ladies in preparing for the service, since Daphene and Lethea had an admittedly weak grasp on looking presentable for religious functions. Then, to Adale’s horror, her mother had announced that they were all going to the service.
Now Adale sat in the front row of the Great Temple of Talcia, dressed in a gown she hadn’t even known she owned until a few hours ago, with too many bracelets around her wrists and an uncomfortable silver hairpiece digging into her scalp. The ancient archpriestess seemed completely unfazed by the presence of the entire royal family in her temple, as well as the presence of all the lesser nobles, aristocrats, and upwardly mobile merchants who had followed them. She simply went on hobbling through the rituals as though this service was no different than any of the others that had preceded it.
Adale risked another glance at Esofi. The princess was watching the service attentively, a peaceful smile on her face. Occupying the seats between the princess and Adale were, of course, the twins. There was no escaping them.
Adale let her thoughts wander. Then, when she was bored of even that, she set her attention to counting the stars painted on the enormous mural of the night sky behind the altar. After what felt like an eternity, the ceremony came to a close. Unfortunately, she could not escape straightaway. The crowd was taking its time to disperse and her mother seemed to be indulging them, accepting greetings from her subjects as though she had nothing better to do.
Adale had initially planned on staying for as long as Esofi did, but the service had left her short-tempered and irritated. Fortunately, the streets were well-lit and still reasonably crowded from the service. Adale began the short walk back up to the castle, and if a pair of well-intentioned watchmen followed her from a respectful distance until they were certain she’d made it home safely, she told herself that she did not notice.
The castle was quiet still, and she was grateful for that. As she began the journey back to her room, pulling fitfully at the comb in her hair, her gaze fell upon a pair of servants who had clearly been counting on the hall being empty for a while longer, judging by the intensity of their kiss.
The couple consisted of a palace maid and a tall, dark-haired woman that Adale realized she’d already seen once before.
“You again!” said Adale. The hunter woman broke the kiss and turned to Adale with a strange smile. Taking advantage of the distraction, the maid ducked out from under the woman’s arm and escaped down the hall, giggling madly.
“Here, don’t you have work to do?” asked Adale, well aware of her own hypocrisy. The woman’s smile only widened. Her lips were a strange, dark color, almost black. “Or are you just out to kiss everyone in the castle?”
“Not everyone, Crown Princess,” said the woman. “For example, not you.”
Adale frowned, moderately offended. “Well, why not?”
The woman laughed and bolted past Adale, quick as a deer. Stunned, Adale spun around in time to see the last of the woman’s long black hair whip around the nearest corner. Adale hurried after her, but when she turned the corner, the woman was gone.