Chapter 15
ELLE
Eliza and I sit in the rose garden at a white wrought-iron table. An eggshell-blue teapot and two matching cups of steaming tea sit in between us. A towering tray of untouched pastries sits on the edge of the table, pushed aside so as not to block my view of the female in front of me.
Eliza wears a black, fur-lined coat and plain black trousers. The informality of the outfit shocked me at first, a stark contrast to the gown that I was told—forced—to wear, its thin sleeves offering no protection from the cold.
“Thank you for joining me,” I say warmly.
She nods curtly. “Thank you for the invite, Your Highness,” she says politely, then glances around the garden. “Your garden is beautiful.”
She’s right. Somehow, the roses are unaffected by the cold. Shades of light pink, crimson red, and ivory roses surround us, their sharp thorns hidden among the foliage.
“It was the late High Princess’s favorite spot. Like my sister, it’s one of my favorites,” I say, trying desperately to keep my tone warm, even though I want to choke on every word.
Eliza’s gaze lingers for a beat too long before she picks up her cup and blows on the steaming liquid.
I clear my throat, sparing a look at the guards in every corner of the garden.
When I told Marik I wanted to invite the teacher back, he initially dismissed the idea with an apathetic denial.
Later, he came back to my wing and said that Cora said it would be a good idea, a good look for the High Crown.
I swallowed the retort that rose, something about him being spineless.
I should’ve known he wouldn’t allow me to meet with her alone. We had more privacy when she was locked in the dungeons. Eliza doesn’t miss my glance to the guards. If she picks up on the reminder that we’re being watched, she doesn’t acknowledge it.
Steam wafts from my teacup, and I hold it in my hand, relishing in the warmth it provides. “I invited you here to discuss our education policies,” I say, again, trying with all my might to come across as inviting and friendly. Even though I want to grab the butter knife and jam it into my throat.
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” Eliza says, a regretful smile on her delicate features. “I’m not exactly well-versed in the kingdom’s education policies.”
It’s a lie. Eliza continues to get more interesting.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I reassure her. “I’m not expecting you to be. I want to learn how we can help you as a teacher. How we can change our policies to make your life easier. Teachers do so much for the kingdom, and I want to ensure we’re taking care of you.”
She gives me a tight smile. “That is a wonderful first policy change for a new High Queen.”
“Yes, well, as you may or may not know, my aunt homeschooled me. It’s important to me that I learn more about your experience in the school system because it’s so unfamiliar to me.”
I swallow the hatred I feel at the mention of my fake aunt, who’s actually Mae’s fake aunt, who’s actually Cora, the First Witch.
“Yes, I knew that,” she says, her blue eyes piercing mine. Truth.
I resist the urge to shake my head to wave off the sudden intensity of her gaze. She stares at me expectantly. But I’m not sure what she’s looking for.
Her gaze cuts to the guards, then back to me. “I am aware of Mae’s—of your—history.”
Truth.
I narrow my eyes for a moment, then remember myself, and paste a smile to my face. It feels like there’s something I’m missing. I go out on a limb. “You seem so familiar to me. Have we met before? I mean, before the tithe?”
She smiles—a real smile this time. “Yes, Your Highness. We have. We’ve spoken before. Many times.” Truth. She grabs a lock of her brown hair. “My hair’s normally darker than this. It’s grown quite a bit, so maybe you don’t recognize me.”
Underneath the table, I ball my hands into fists. I don’t know what idiotic plan I had in asking her to join me. I have no idea who Mae knows or doesn’t know.
“When did we meet?” I ask.
She considers this as she takes another sip of her tea, her eyes flitting back to the guards in each corner. She appears to be as aware of the guards as I am. Eliza is hiding something. I just don’t know what.
She sets her cup down on the saucer and says, “It was a long time ago. But more recently, I also had the pleasure of meeting your companion. What was her name, with the red hair?”
My pulse quickens. Although her words are casual, she watches me like she’s trying to drill a hole into my brain with her mind.
Her mannerisms…her tone…
“She brought you to meet my brother. Months ago.”
I turn the words over in my head. She—Elle—I—brought Mae to meet her brother…I purse my lips as my mind fumbles, scrambles to put the pieces together. “What’s your brother’s name?”
She brings the cup to her lips, a smirk on her face as she takes a tiny sip. Her eyes don’t leave mine as she gives me a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. Wrong question.
“How old is your brother?” I ask quietly, sparing a glance at the guards. They stand stock-still, black statues in a garden of roses.
Eliza watches me carefully. Her next words ring of truth.
“He’s my twin.”
My heart slams in my chest. I sit up straight, realization spreading through my body like an electric current. I pick up my cup of tea and bring it slowly to my lips as I think through my response. My hands shake. If I’m right, Eliza is wearing a sigil, too.
If I’m right, Eliza isn’t Eliza at all.
If I’m right, Asmo is sitting in front of me. And I have no idea what his agenda is.
I set the teacup down delicately, willing it not to slam into the matching saucer.
“Twins have always fascinated me,” I say, forcing a smile onto my face. “How close are you with him?”
Eliza—Asmo?—smiles slowly, bright eyes twinkling. “Not very. In fact, a recent family dispute has us estranged at the moment.” Truth.
Sweet, sweet relief floods through me. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I lie.
She waves me off. “No, don’t be. Just a bit of a difference of opinions on a family matter,” she says nonchalantly before twisting in her seat to survey the garden again. “Would I be able to pluck some flowers and bring them home?”
“Um, sure. Of course,” I say.
She smiles. “Thank you, Your Highness.” She glances around the garden once more and stands. As she does, she bumps into the table, sending both cups of tea toppling to the ground. The cups shatter into pieces as they hit the cobblestone.
She gasps. “Oh! I’m so sorry.” She bends down, dropping to the floor on her knees, reaching for the shards of the broken cups.
This is my chance. The guards have glanced over here but make no attempt to come help.
Mother forbid I prick a finger.
I bend down and join Eliza on the ground, knees digging into the small pebbles underneath the table. Dozens of questions roar through my mind like a river threatening to break its dam.
Is Holly okay? Where’s Luca? Ivan?
What are you doing to save the kingdom?
Can you save me from your monster of a brother?
But I swallow them. It’s too risky.
When she reaches for a blue shard, she sneaks a folded scrap of paper underneath. I reach for it, sliding the paper up the sleeve of my blouse as I pluck the broken piece of ceramic from the ground.
It takes all my willpower not to look at the guards.
“I’m so sorry about that. I’m such a klutz,” Eliza says with a huff as she stands back up and sits in her chair.
I laugh at the lie as it comes from her mouth. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve never been a big fan of tea, anyways. Shall we get down to business?” I ask her, motioning for the guards to come forward.
Eliza freezes at the summons.
I hand the guards the broken teacups. “Discard this,” I say before ordering them away with a wave of my hand.
Eliza’s posture visibly relaxes as they retreat. “Yes,” she says with a smile.
One hour later, I walk Eliza to the front doors, guards trailing behind us. We spent the rest of our time discussing education policy, something she was surprisingly informed on. Well, I guess it’s not surprising given that she’s actually a High Prince.
The note tucked into my sleeve felt like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
“Thank you, again, for inviting me, Your Highness,” she says, dipping into a bow before the grand double doors.
“The pleasure was all mine. I’d love for you to come back soon so we can continue our discussion,” I say sincerely. “Maybe next time I can give you a tour of the grounds.”
Please don’t leave me here.
Please save me.
“I’d love that,” she says with a smile.
I open the double doors for her. With a glance back at the guards, I step outside. They don’t stop me, so I escort Eliza to the top of the grand stairs that slope down the small mountain.
I pull her in for a hug. Tears threaten to spill, but I swallow them down. Later.
“She’s alive,” she whispers into my hair, so quietly that it could have been the whisper of the wind. She pulls away, and I have to remember to act normal. To act like those two words didn’t just change my life. Like they didn’t just spring a well of hope into my chest.
She’s alive.
I wave goodbye to Eliza—Asmo—and resist the urge to sprint up the stairs and into my wing, lock myself in the bathroom, and unfurl the note still burning a hole in my sleeve.
“Your Highness,” a guard says drily behind me.
I turn and walk back inside. They watch as I walk up the stairs and enter my wing, every step torturously slow.
When I enter my wing, the guards stationed inside don’t even glance at me.
I enter my private bathroom and lock the door behind me.
I take a deep, shaky breath and sink to the marble floor.
Slowly, quietly, I pull the folded note from my sleeve.
I throw a small sound barrier up and unfold the note, the paper crinkling as I do.
I let loose a sob as I see the handwriting.
I would know it anywhere. I’ve seen it on official documents and on countless Herd meeting notes, his neat penmanship something I always admired.
Ivan.
We’re okay. Everyone is okay. Stay strong.
That’s all there is. I summon a small flame to the palm of my hand and burn the note.
Mae is alive.
And they know I’m here.