Chapter 29 #2
“Queen Tessa!” I say with an exuberant wave. “Excuse me, my mother-in-law is calling,” I tell the gaggle of monstrous girls as I flit away with a forced smile.
The queen is not, in fact, calling for me.
She’s sitting on her usual settee, her eyes hazy and her smile vacant, but I make a beeline toward her anyway.
I refuse to believe that no one on this mountain keeps their prized possessions in a secure location.
Particularly the royal jewels. Soren must keep them under lock and key after the incident with Alaric and Besnik.
The courtiers just don’t know where they’re hidden and are too proud to admit they’re not in the king’s innermost circle of trust.
“Your Majesty, you look lovely today,” I say, sweeping into a low curtsy that would make Mother and Rowenna proud.
Queen Tessa slowly turns to face me. For a second, it seems as though she’s looking through me, and I wonder, yet again, how the Vanzadorians can possibly believe their bagrava tea has no ill effects. But then she shakes herself and squints at me—with curiosity or suspicion, I can’t tell.
“Indira, you’ve returned to my salon. Does that mean you’ve decided to accept our lifestyle?”
I will never accept their abhorrent tea—it’s an insult to Earth Mother and destroying my country—but I lower my chin demurely. “Of course you’re able to do as you see fit with our tributes. I’m sorry I reacted so defensively before. I was exhausted and overwhelmed by so much change.”
“And now?” A bemused smile flits across my mother-in-law’s lips. “Have you settled into life on the mountain?”
“Yes, I believe I have—for the most part. One thing’s still troubling me, though. It’s actually what I came here to discuss with you.”
Queen Tessa quirks a brow.
“I’ve been meaning to ask about your jewelry,” I say shyly. “It’s all so lovely. And the other ladies at court are always adorned in gemstones too. I’d very much like to wear some—to fit in among you—but I’m afraid I don’t own any. We don’t have such luxuries in Tashir.”
The queen’s face immediately softens into a smile. “Of course you should wear jewels. You’re Vanzadorian now. Join me before dinner, and I’ll select a few pieces from my own collection.”
“That would be wonderful, Your Majesty.” I lower into another curtsy. “Shall I meet you at the royal coffers? I’m afraid I don’t know where they’re located.”
Queen Tessa cocks her head and frowns. “I keep my jewelry with me, in my personal chamber. Come there. And bring my delinquent son. He goes to such great lengths to avoid me, I’m beginning to think he’s allergic to my presence.”
“It isn’t you he’s allergic to, Your Majesty,” the waspish old councilor, who seems to be Alaric’s most vocal opponent, proclaims loudly. “Prince Alaric has always been allergic to a good time!”
More than half the crowd snickers, and I want to shout at them all: He’s clearly allergic to failure, you idiots.
And grief! He avoids this salon to spare himself the headache of interacting with vapid courtiers and judgmental councilors, and because he can’t bear to see his mother reduced to this empty husk.
Can’t bear to lose another person he loves.
I can’t imagine being forced to stand face-to-face with the baffling version of Rowenna who lived on this mountain. I don’t know how I’d cope if that was all that remained of her. If she was technically present but gone in all the ways that mattered.
If anyone is ‘gone in all the ways that matter’ it’s you, Rowenna grumbles. I hardly recognize you, fretting over the feelings of an entitled prince. He doesn’t deserve your pity. Don’t let him play the oppressor and the victim.
But after witnessing his living memory, I don’t think Alaric Alaverdi has ever been anything but a victim, and it’s all so infuriating and unfair, I don’t realize I’m shouting until the words have tumbled from my lips.
“Or perhaps Alaric is allergic to all this useless idle chatter. If he wasted more time among you, I fear Vanzador would cease to function!”
The hum of laughter and clinking of teacups immediately ceases, and every eye in the salon blinks at me with shock.
Strangely, this doesn’t bother me. I stare brazenly back at them, even Queen Tessa, until I feel a hand slip through the crook of my arm and squeeze my elbow tight.
“Indira! You’re always such a comedian!” Elodie says with a loud laugh.
“Forgive the princess; she gets this way when she’s hungry.
Never come between a gardener and their next meal.
” She laughs gaily, playing to the crowd, and the tension in the room instantly dissipates—order restored now that I am, once again, the butt of their jokes.
“Let’s get you some refreshments.” Elodie pulls me toward a banquet table laden with meat pies. As I watch her trembling hands make a plate for me, waves of gratitude and unexpected fondness course through me.
She always appears exactly when I need her, always comes to my defense, despite the potential damage to her own reputation.
I can feel Rowenna rolling her eyes, but I’m not in the mood to doubt one of my only allies just because Rowenna feels jealous and insecure. Instead, I fall silent and pretend not to hear her reminders to stay vigilant.
Ignoring her isn’t easy. Every passing second feels more excruciating than the one before it.
The wrenching in my chest is so heavy, I’m certain it will crush me.
But as seconds turn to minutes, I realize there’s something empowering about being the one to wield the silence.
I feel a bit like the gemstones the Vanzadorian miners cleave from this mountain.
Simple rock, transformed by the crushing weight.
I, too, am changing. Growing harder, sharper, and clearer.
I don’t have to give in to anyone’s demands—not even my sister’s.
Assuming the voice in my head was ever hers to begin with and not just a way to fill the Rowenna-shaped hole in my life.
As soon as I think these traitorous thoughts, the space around me crackles with cold, and the feel of my sister’s presence vanishes faster than the morning dew.
Once again, I don’t immediately call her back.
She can no longer manipulate me with the threat of being left all alone because I’m not alone.
I glance up at Elodie, who sets my food on a small table and drops into the seat across from me with a heavy sigh.
There’s no denying the toll our “friendship” has taken on her. Her braids fall lank around her shoulders, and her makeup creases in the bags beneath her eyes. Even still, she musters a smile as she pushes the plate in front of me.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue back there,” I say.
She shakes her head and touches her temple. “I don’t know what you were thinking. You haven’t had a single nice thing to say about Alaric all this time, then suddenly you’re going toe to toe with the queen to defend his honor?”
“I didn’t mean to.” I wince. “It just came out.”
“You know I’m all for you falling madly in love with your husband—that’s why I’ve been instructing you in the art of seduction.” She winks and I shake my head with horror.
“I’m not falling in love with him!”
Elodie rolls her eyes and continues… “But you still have to use your brain, Indira.”
The irony is almost laughable—this seemingly frivolous courtier is telling me to use my brain. Rowenna would have a heyday with this reversal, and I feel another odd surge of satisfaction that she left. That I’m allowed to feel how I want to feel. Trust who I want to trust.
I stab a large bite of pie and bring it to my lips. “It’s completely unfair, how some of them treat Alaric. How they judge him.”
“Lots of things on this mountain are unfair,” Elodie says gravely, as if she’s ever experienced suffering or injustice.
Once again, my mouth spews out words before my brain thinks better of it. “What about your life could possibly be unfair?”
Her pretty face crumples, and I immediately hate myself for being just as small-minded and judgmental as the rest of the courtiers.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” I reach for Elodie’s gloved hand. “It’s just everything about you, and your life, seems so perfect.”
“Did you know they won’t let me compete in the stone-throwing contests?” she says with surprising bitterness. “Not even as an alternate. This week two competitors failed to show, and they chose to refund all of the bets rather than letting me step in.”
I don’t know what shocks me more—the fact that she wants to compete in the brutish competitions or that she’s ever been denied anything.
“You want to compete?” I ask with surprise.
She nods firmly. “More than anything. I’ve been practicing in private for years, but women of my status aren’t permitted to ‘debase’ ourselves in the ring.
Noblemen aren’t denied such privileges, but because I wear dresses and enjoy salons, they assume I’m incapable of working hard and getting dirty.
They insist I’ll injure myself, which is offensive and infuriating. ”
I’m so surprised by Elodie’s admission, I can’t think of a single thing to say, which ends up working in my favor, because she keeps on talking, spurred on with conviction I’ve never seen before.
“You know what else is unfair? Certain council members are petitioning to have my mother removed from her position due to her recent illness. They’re acting as if she’s done something wrong—like we all don’t fall ill from time to time.”
“I didn’t know that your mother was unwell,” I say with a frown. “What does she have?”
Elodie shrugs. “Just a fever of some sort. The healers insist she’ll turn the corner soon.”
“How long has it been?”
“A few weeks.”
I nearly choke on the pie in my mouth. Elodie’s mother has been ill for the entirety of my time in Vanzador, but it has never come up in our hours upon hours of conversation.
Because I never asked.
Not about Elodie, her family, or anything beyond my sister and my agenda.
I’m just as selfish and self-absorbed as the courtiers.
Shame burns my cheeks as I gaze across the table at Elodie, who’s always there to offer help, advice, and friendship, even though I haven’t reciprocated.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t know—that I didn’t ask,” I say in a rush. Elodie tries to wave off my apology, but I don’t let her. “If you ever need help tending to your mother, I’m more than willing to lend a hand. I know a lot about herbal remedies.”
Elodie laughs to disguise a sniffle. “Don’t be ridiculous.
You’re the princess. You haven’t time for such things.
My mother is in good hands, besides. The king’s personal healers have been caring for her round the clock.
They said I should be able to visit her soon and assured me she’ll be back in the king’s council chambers in no time. ”
“We’re all praying for her swift recovery,” a deep voice cuts in behind me, and my entire body stiffens. It feels like ice water is pouring over my head—so shockingly cold, I can’t move as Garitt Von Nevus saunters into view and leans casually against our table.