34
Valine had ventured into the city with Jacira, Pandora, Tallulah, Cersei, and Freyja, the crown princess having demanded a visit to a dressmaker for the finest attire for the Tri-Moon Festival. It hadn’t mattered to the princess if they already had garb for it. That wasn’t the point. The point was gossip. Valine anguished over the fact that she was missing out on a day of sleuthing and trading information with the servants, but she reminded herself that she’d gone out early that morning with Desdemon jewels and Amir gold to bribe. Thus far, she’d learned more about the mines and den, as well as an unsettling secret of Cersei’s. Even so, it wasn’t enough. Valine knew she was missing something big, what it was, she didn’t know. Even then, she took this opportunity to wend her necromancy to further another plan.
“Have you ever had gooseberries from Cuuevota before, Valine?” Jacira asked as she plucked up a round purple-blue berry and examined it against the light.
Valine cocked a brow. “Fruit from the black market island? I cannot say I have.”
“Hmm,” Jacira hummed. “It’s funny. The exact shade seems to match the love bites on your neck. Just here.” Jacira tapped the side of Valine’s throat. “And here.” She continued, indicating her collarbone. “And even here.” She tapped the swell of her left breast. “Curious that, isn’t it?”
Heat burned on Valine’s cheeks. She’d applied cosmetics, but evidently not very well. “Very.”
Jacira giggled and popped the berry in her mouth, taking a bushel and tossing a silver coin in payment, thanking the seller by name. She offered the berries to the rest of them, and Jacira looped her arm with hers. “I must ask, how was he?”
Valine’s tongue felt thick. “We actually didn’t…we didn’t have sex.”
“You didn’t fuck, and yet you look like that?” Jacira was equal parts shocked and impressed. “Gods, the day you two do… I don’t know if I want to watch or be as far as possible.”
Valine laughed nervously and popped a gooseberry in her mouth, letting the sweet flavor explode across her tongue. The sounds of the city around Valine were different than the messy streets of Luneth; the streets of Talloh were paved in white stone, mosaics of golden moons and suns demarcating intersections and forks. Tapestries of the Stygian Ones hanging from high walls and buildings, everything light and airy and gilded. Servants scurried about, scrubbing walls and sweeping sand from the stone. Mages moved and cooled the air, tending to palm trees deposited in pots, and flowers growing in painted, wooden boxes. Gold domes topped many businesses, sheer curtains flittering from balconies in natural and aethermancer breezes, and fountains bubbling upon walls and in the city square. The scent of the sea was so potent Valine could taste it on her tongue. It tasted clean and pure. Compared to Bastia, Selyndyr was paradise.
“So, if you didn’t sleep together, what did you do?” Pandora pressed from Jacira’s other side, smiling brightly. She was wearing a floppy white hat to protect from the sun, and the lace on it cast shadows across her delicate face.
“We had an argument.”
Pandora blinked her pretty green eyes, her white blonde hair slipping from its coil in the oppressive heat. “You…you fought with the King of Adraali, and you’re still here?”
“Oh, it’s not as if it were a physical match. We simply raised our voices,” Valine dismissed.
“No,” Freyja intruded, and Valine startled, turning toward the platinum blonde’s hazel eyes. “That’s just it, no one fights with Malik and escapes the encounter without chastisement, injury, or banishment—unless it is truly and properly well deserved. Not even Sarim or Alastair.”
Valine’s mouth dropped open, and in that moment all thoughts left her except for the stupid fact that she was the only one present that did not have some shade of blonde hair. Pandora’s the lightest, Cersei’s the deepest. From snow to honey. It was this ridiculous thought that kept her from breaking apart.
“Well, if that’s the way the king fights, I’d love to see how he fucks,” Cersei said airily, grinning that ludicrous cat grin.
“Oh, Cersei,” Jacira chided. “Come now. It’s clear the king fancies Val. Why are you trying to chase a man who has his eyes elsewhere?”
“That is not confirmed, is it, Val?” Cersei hit the nickname hard and Valine knew she realized Valine didn’t care for it.
“The king has stated certain intentions—like finding a bride next year—so I would not encourage any pursuit,” Valine hedged carefully.
“Don’t want a little challenge, hmm?”
Valine noticed that as usual Tallulah was remaining auspiciously silent, and the assassin realized how often she forgot their presence. She wondered if that was deliberate.
“I don’t mind. You and he are free to do what you will.”
Cersei laughed. “Gods, you are so easy to rile up. Do you truly think I am so interested in your king?”
Valine startled. “You’re not?”
“No, if anything I am intrigued by Sarim, but I have a feeling he is also taken.” Cersei’s eyes flittered to Freyja, and whether the ruinmancer didn’t hear or pretended not to, Valine didn’t know. “Besides, I’d never want to be queen. That’s much too hard. Perhaps I’d pursue a lord, but I enjoy my independence if we’re being completely honest here.”
Had Valine read all the situations wrong? Was the look she thought territorial actually something else? Perplexed? Curious? And what of the flirting? Was that just flippant? And the use of the nickname, was it just her attempting camaraderie and Valine was already soured against it? Was Valine’s head really so far gone that any woman who got close to Malik sent threatening energy through her? She paled when she realized this was likely true.
“For someone that has had many lovers, you seem shy to admit what was done,” Jacira prodded none too discreetly.
“We…” Valine sighed. “Okay, well, he pushed me against the wall, and he spoke of punishments and rewards and…” Valine’s face heated. “I reached pleasure, but I will reveal no more.”
“Val!” Cersei groaned. “You cannot leave it at that.”
“Oh, but I must.” The thoughts alone had her turning wet again, and she’d rather not peruse the wares in the street while aroused.
Valine twisted the thread on her necromancy and was saved from having to answer more when Pandora groaned.
“Gods,” Pandora cursed. “I’ve been having terrible headaches lately; I think I need to sit down.”
“Perhaps you have imbibed too much wine and not nearly enough water,” Tallulah suggested.
“Actually,” Valine said, digging through her bag. “I have a tonic for that. Healer Das gave me one of Queen Amaris’s mixtures after I received a knock to the head during the three-legged race, but I fell asleep before taking it. Would you like it?”
“Oh, would you mind?” Pandora asked gratefully.
“All yours.” Valine handed over the vial, and the woman drank the entire thing. As she did, Valine began to slowly unwind her necromancy surrounding Pandora’s brain.
Pandora blinked as she pulled the now-empty vial from her lips. “It’s already fading,” she said, astounded.
“Then I definitely encourage you to seek out the healer. I’m sure he can make you more should the headache return.” Because tomorrow it would.
A few minutes later, Pandora drifted away from their group into a jewelry seller, Freyja, following with several of their guards. The princess’s lover was fingering the gems on a multi-hued choker, want written plain across her face. Jacira made a sudden sharp turn, and Valine turned to the princess to see if she’d noticed the longing, but in Valine’s distraction of the lover, she hadn’t realized where they’d ended up.
Why was Jacira visiting a blacksmith? The princess had no need for steel or weaponry. She glanced at Tallulah and Cersei who still lingered with this portion of the fractured group. Cersei’s face was twisted up in distaste, her sun-kissed skin turning red with—what was that, anger?—some dark emotion, while Tallulah simply pressed their lips in a thin line, their gray eyes casting about the city core.
“Hello, Lincoln,” Jacira practically purred.
Valine’s brow rose almost to her hairline. Well, this was interesting.
A handsome, flushed-faced man appeared in Valine’s line of sight. He was built like a bear, strong and tall with large, rough hands and a sweaty mass of dark hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes were brown, but there was a secret warmth in them that spoke of humble beginnings and graciousness. Beneath the layer of dust and sweat, Valine deduced his skin was perhaps a shade or two darker than Cersei’s, lending the suspicion that he was mixed race, further affirmed by his features that held hints of typical characteristics from specific regions. His lips were full, his brows straight, with an oval and mostly symmetrical face.
The man was shyly cleaning his hands with an equally dirty rag, a new flush deepening the red that burned already from the heat. “Hello, Princess Jacira.” His voice was a pleasant rumble. “How might I help you today?”
“I am in the market for a decorative dagger, and I am infatuated with the craftsmanship I’ve observed in previous blades. I thought a symbolic equivalent would be appropriate.”
“About what size, Your Highness?”
Jacira hummed, and Valine would have been blind not to notice the way the princess’s eyes sank to the area between Lincoln’s legs. Valine bit her cheek to keep from reacting, turning her eyes to Cersei. Fire burned in her gaze. She was angry, but Valine gathered—after compartmentalizing her own emotions—that it was due to the disregard Jacira clearly held for other people’s emotions.
Because it was very clear in that moment that Jacira was anything but monogamous.
Jacira continued her thinly veiled flirting, describing the size of a dagger she wanted—the length of a forearm seemed excessive—and settled once Lincoln—blushingly—explained the weight versus aesthetic feature of the blade. Apparently, Valine wasn’t following along properly because she realized with a start it was going to be a hair accessory running parallel to her spine.
The business concluded and coin exchanged hands, the contact lingering much too long for polite encounters, and Jacira set off, towards her other lover. The fast clip the princess placed set her apart from the rest of the group and Cersei sidled up to Valine, popping the gooseberries Jacira bought in her mouth.
“She wasn’t even trying to hide it, was she?” Cersei muttered darkly.
“How long has it been going on?” Valine inquired, taking a berry Cersei offered.
“At least four months, she’s been seeing him since the Blooming Season.”
“Why does she go on about monogamy then?”
Tallulah cackled from Valine’s other side. “Power. Admiration. Moral superiority. Take your pick,” Tallulah told her, evidently fed up. “I love her, but she is sloven with her lovers.”
“This is a habit now?”
“It started with Cesaire—a merchant from Luneth—and then it was Esmeralda, and then Pandora was everything, but now she’s losing interest, so here is Lincoln.” Tallulah shrugged elegant shoulders. “She tires of people easily and I worry she keeps me around only because I complete her triad that reflects the Stygian Ones.”
Valine stiffened, realizing that Cersei represented She, Balchon He, and Tallulah They. Or was Jacira She and Cersei an interloper? Was Jacira placing herself as queen of these gods? Was the princess so full of herself she was trying to manifest godhood?
She realized from what Jericho was raving about all those days ago indicated she could be.
Valine looked to where Jacira was sticking her tongue down Pandora’s throat, the other woman moaning and fusing her hands in the princess’s hair. If that was losing interest, Valine did not want to see what infatuated was.
The rest of the outing passed uneventfully. Their group arrived at the dressmaker’s shop and within seconds they had been measured and Jacira gave them free reign to do with the dresses as they wanted. The only stipulation was that they had to be stunning and completed by tomorrow evening. Even Valine paled under the command. Jacira clearly thought money could buy her everything with no regard for time. The dressmaker and their assistants shared panic, and when Jacira wasn’t looking, Valine went up to the dressmaker.
“If it’s any easier, use as little fabric on mine as possible.”
The dressmaker deflated with relief. “Anything else?” they asked.
Valine considered. “I enjoy slit skirts,”
The dressmaker smiled, their white teeth shining on their golden face. “I can work with that, thank you.”