Violie
By the evening after Leopold leaves with Bairre, has overheard two other servants gossiping about how Princess Daphne decided to join Prince Bairre on Prince Cillian’s starjourn. To hear them discuss it, one might believe the choice is romantic, though whether that’s in regard to Daphne and Bairre, or Daphne and Cillian, isn’t sure. In truth, she doesn’t suspect Empress Margaraux left much room in Daphne’s heart for romance.
Part of her is tempted to leave the castle immediately after hearing the news, stealing a horse from the royal stables and riding as fast as she can until she overtakes the starjourn party…but then what? Haul Leopold away from Daphne? She doubts he would go with her willingly, and in doing so she would only risk raising Daphne’s suspicions about his true identity.
No, all she can do is write to Beatriz to inform her of everything that’s happened since she arrived in Friv, wish on all the stars she can see that Leopold avoids Daphne’s detection, and focus on Queen Eugenia—or Lady Eunice, as she’s known in Friv.
It only takes a day and a few conversations with her fellow servants for to learn Eugenia’s schedule—she stays in her room mostly, leaving only for a morning and evening turn about the gardens, each of which lasts only ten minutes before she grows too cold and returns indoors. She receives no visitors and plays the part of a bereaved mother.
The rest of the servants don’t seem to think much of her, apart from passing pity. They certainly don’t appear to know who she is, even though it seemed as though the castle cook did when she was talking to Bairre. It strikes as curious, though she doesn’t have enough information yet to begin assembling that puzzle.
There is, however, one way to gather more information, though she will only have ten minutes to do so.
—
The maids mentioned that Eugenia’s morning walk takes place shortly after the sun rises, and since in the evenings is too much needed in the kitchens to slip away unnoticed, she forces herself out of bed before dawn and slips through the castle hallways, passing bleary-eyed servants who spare her no more than a glance.
This was why the empress hired her in the first place— is very good at going unnoticed, even among those whose job it is to go unnoticed.
She finds the hallway that leads to Eugenia’s quarters and hides nearby, drawing a dustcloth from her apron pocket and pretending to polish the picture frames that line the hallway. It’s a risk, to be so close to where she knows Eugenia will walk when she leaves for the garden, but she will be able to keep her back toward her, and knows that Eugenia has never once paid attention to a servant.
Sure enough, as watches the sun rise through the large window beside the picture frame she polishes, the sound of a door opening echoes down the hall, followed by a familiar voice that makes ’s grip on her dustrag tighten in anger.
“I would like my breakfast waiting for me when I return, Genevieve,” Queen Eugenia says.
“Of course, Your—my lady,” another voice says, this one familiar as well, though less so. The door closes and footsteps start down the hall toward .
Though she was careful to choose a place where she would go unseen, ’s heartbeat still picks up as the dowager queen’s footsteps draw closer and closer. She ducks her head, careful to keep her face hidden as she continues polishing the picture frame, though at this point it might just be the best-polished frame in the entire castle.
Queen Eugenia walks directly behind —a mere two feet away—and it would be so easy for to whirl around, to snatch the dagger she keeps in her boot, to stab it through Eugenia’s heart and finish what Sophronia started on the Temarin palace’s terrace.
That wouldn’t solve anything, a voice in ’s mind cautions, and she isn’t sure if the voice belongs to Sophronia or Empress Margaraux.
manages to keep from turning toward Queen Eugenia as she strides past her, not giving her a first glance, let alone a second. When she rounds a corner and disappears from sight, exhales, tucking her dustrag into her apron and starting down the hall in the opposite direction, toward Eugenia’s rooms.
At the door, she pauses and knocks. When the door opens, she finds herself face to face with Eugenia’s maid, Genevieve, a middle-aged woman with a severe expression and her dark brown hair swept back in a tight chignon. While they crossed paths once or twice back in Temarin, it was always with a crowd of others and they were never properly introduced. Sure enough, there is no spark of recognition in Genevieve’s eyes when they sweep over .
“May I help you?” she asks, her words Frivian, but heavily accented.
“I work in the kitchen,” says, maintaining her Frivian accent and affecting a polite smile. “The cook sent me to inform you that she ran out of eggs—would porridge suffice for Lady Eunice’s breakfast?”
“It would not!” Genevieve exclaims, her eyes going wide and her mouth twisting into a grimace. “My lady detests porridge. In the three decades I’ve been her maid, she has only ever eaten eggs for breakfast.”
, who remembers Eugenia’s strict dietary preferences and the chaos the Temarinian kitchens were often thrown into to cater to them, bites her lip. “I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do. If you would like to speak to the cook—”
“Oh, I most certainly would,” Genevieve says.
“Do you know the way?” asks, tilting her head. “There are others I must inform about our egg shortage.”
Genevieve waves a dismissive hand at her before stalking down the hall toward the kitchen and leaving alone in front of Eugenia’s door. After a quick glance to be sure that the hallway is truly deserted, she slips inside, closing the door behind her.
has seen enough of the Frivian castle to know that the chambers King Bartholomew set Eugenia up in are quite generous, though the size and splendor of them pales in comparison to what the dowager queen was used to in Temarin. The sitting room is a small space furnished with a two-seated velvet sofa set near the fireplace, a round table just big enough for four, and a wooden desk set beside a window that overlooks the gardens below. Two doors lead off from the sitting room, and would guess that one goes to Eugenia’s bedchamber and one to the princes’.
Looking around, she is sure she can give the place a thorough search before Eugenia or Genevieve returns.
She begins with the desk, though she is fairly sure that it is too obvious a place to keep anything important. Sure enough, she finds drafted letters to a few Temarinian nobles who must have been away from the capital when the siege occurred, assuring them that Eugenia has everything in hand and asking for their continued loyalty to the crown. There is a letter to King Nicolo of Cellaria that piques ’s interest, though it is only a few lines long and innocuous, congratulating him on his ascension to the throne. She does a cursory search for some sort of code but finds nothing suspicious.
Careful to leave everything as she found it, closes the desk drawer and moves on to the sofa, feeling beneath the cushions for anything out of place, but her fingers find nothing but dust and a few errant crumbs. She looks underneath the sofa as well before moving to the bookshelves along the wall.
Amid rows of books on Frivian history, her eyes snag on a navy-blue leather spine, emblazoned with gold lettering that reads Anatomy of Livestock. Normally, such a book wouldn’t give pause, but the words are in Temarinian, not Frivian. She pulls the book from the shelf, but as she begins to open it, she hears voices outside the rooms.
“I told them you required eggs for breakfast,” Genevieve’s voice says, and freezes, panic seizing her. “And I was assured it would not be an issue.”
“Very good,” Eugenia’s voice replies. “My walk chilled me to the bone—see to it my tea is as close to boiling as possible.”
“Of course, my lady.”
The doorknob to the sitting room begins to turn, and has no choice but to dash into the princes’ room, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible. Her heart beating loudly in her chest, she scarcely dares to breathe as Eugenia’s footsteps sound against the sitting room floor. Looking down, realizes she is still clutching the Temarinian book in her hands. She can only hope Eugenia won’t note its absence until she has managed to escape.
hears the sound of a chair scraping against the stone floor, and she imagines that Eugenia is settling in at the dining table. tucks the book into the pocket of her apron, casting a glance around the dark room, lit only by a small window between two narrow beds. The sun has barely risen, dousing the room in a dim and ghostly light. Her first thought is to climb out the window—they are only on the second floor, and can see a shadowy outline of a tree just outside. But she doesn’t think she can open the window without drawing Eugenia’s attention.
There is no help for it—she will have to wait here until Eugenia leaves. She knows Eugenia takes a second walk in the evening, but guesses she will retire to her bedchamber at some point, allowing to slip out unnoticed.
She gingerly lowers herself to one of the narrow beds and withdraws the book from her pocket. She opens the book to the first page and grins, a bolt of triumph rushing through her. The book is hollow, and here, within the cutaway hiding place, are folded letters bearing the seal of Empress Margaraux.
As soon as she lifts the first letter out of the hollow, though, her triumph evaporates. Two-thirds of the letter breaks away into dust as soon as she touches it, leaving behind a small square of solid parchment, with just a few words scrawled in Margaraux’s familiar handwriting.
…Daphne will always…
…for your sake and the…
…hope next time you…
It amounts to nothing. reaches for the next letter, knowing already what will happen when she does. She lifts it as carefully as she can, pinching the corner gingerly between her fingers as she lifts it, but it still crumbles into dust on her lap, so fine that it almost disappears entirely. This time, only one word survives.
Leopold.
She doesn’t bother with the third letter, instead placing the book back in her pocket. Perhaps, once she is back in her room with more time and proper tools, she can manage to preserve more than a word or two, but she doubts it. The empress wrote the letters on verbank sheets—like paper in every way that counts, but over time the material dries out and becomes brittle, breaking apart. It’s the same method the empress used for sending messages, as if would ever have dared to save the empress’s letters anyway. Not when her mother’s life was at risk.
It does tell one thing useful, though—Eugenia attempted to keep the letters, meaning she doesn’t trust the empress. As always, though, the empress is two steps ahead. Eugenia might not understand that yet, but she will.
—
As soon as Eugenia turns in for a nap around noon, sending Genevieve to bring a basket of laundry out, hurries out of the dowager queen’s chambers and back down to the kitchen, where Nellie is equal parts exasperated and glad to see her.
“There you are, Vera,” she snaps. “I’ve been looking for you all day!”
“Apologies,” says, ducking her head and trying to appear chastened. “I got lost in the east wing.”
She isn’t sure if Nellie believes her. “Lady Eunice’s maid is being a right pain,” she says, lowering her voice. “She stormed in here all aflutter this morning, ranting about our being out of eggs. I told her we had plenty, but she was awfully snippy about her mistress’s preferences. I’m not keen on saying a thing about a grieving mother, mind you, but…” Nellie trails off, shaking her head.
takes the opening she’s given. “I’ve heard it said that Lady Eunice adores cakes,” she says. “Perhaps that would cheer her up?”
Nellie laughs. “We’re busy enough without adding another cake to our list,” she says.
“But if I wanted to make one,” presses, “after my other work is done. Could I?”
Nellie frowns, giving her a once-over with narrow eyes. “I don’t see why not.”
smiles, already beginning to plan what she’s going to bake up for Eugenia—and the note from a ghost that will accompany it.