Chapter 6
Two days later, Elysia’s back slammed up against the sharp edge of a wooden bookshelf, but a breathless laugh fell out of her mouth. Her laugh was immediately swallowed by firm, familiar kisses. The taste of him sent her spinning into a high that she never wanted to come down from. This week had been so awful. She needed this, needed him .
Strong, warm hands roved beneath her sweater, pulling her hips against his, only to let go as he planted his forearms above her and tore his lips from hers. Green eyes bright with lust stole over her, the prince’s full lips giving way into a grin. And then he hoisted her up, back pinching against the shelves once more, as her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms looped behind his neck.
The person most likely to realize she was cursed and turn her in for treason was currently sucking on the spot below her ear. She wasn’t thinking about treason, though. She was thinking about how she couldn’t make a sound because they were in the library and they’d already been caught once in the last six months alone. Topp’s thumb smoothed over her breast, making her forget her ambition to be silent as her eyes rolled back and her head smacked against the shelves. Books rattled, a few falling down to the floor. Elysia blinked, pulling away and panting as she looked down at the minor destruction.
Lightly dropping her onto her feet, Topp lowered his face and ran his lips up her neck, causing a shiver to ripple through her.
“You keep disappearing on me.” With his mouth against her ear, a blush bloomed instantly on her face, giving away her sense of guilt. He drew back and fixed her with a look.
Elysia grabbed a fistful of shirt, yanking him down to her level, and fastened her mouth to his. The prince responded immediately, clearly not too set on finding out what had been driving her bizarre behavior. Fingers stuck through his hair, she kissed him until she was winded and wished she could rip off his clothes.
Breaking the kiss, Topp brought one finger to his lips and cocked an ear. Heeled footsteps clacked closer. Fucking librarians. The prince stepped back, his lips swollen and set in a grin that promised trouble as he straightened his shirt and trousers.
He ducked down so his face was barely a breath from hers, his broad face lit with determination. “You think I’m that easy to distract, Parker? I’m insulted. We’re going to talk. Soon.”
The prince strode away, leaving her to drop to her knees to collect the scattered books. He turned the corner just as the librarians came upon her, clucking at the sight of all the books strewn about. Cheeks warm, she muttered an apology, and the women carried on with their noses in the air. Elysia scoffed quietly as they walked away. It wasn’t like they could actually punish her given who her partner in crime was, so instead, they would happily feed the gossip mill. Elysia was fine with that. The more everyone thought she and the prince were in love, the safer she was.
Legs out wide as she sat on the cold marbled floor, Elysia reached for the last book from their little avalanche. This book had fallen on its binding, gilded pages crashed open. Just out of reach, she crawled over to slide it closer. Skulls littered the background of the page and a man stood amongst them with a hood pulled over his shadowed face. A dark, winding river ran beside the lone figure. The sketched drawing made her skin prickle with vague recognition. Eyes moving fast, she scanned the words on the opposite page.
Shock had a small gasp tumbling from her lips and her wrists folding like paper. The book crashed back down to the floor as she continued to gape. Hastily, she grabbed it, shutting the book with a loud clap, and shoved it back onto the closest shelf. She sprang to her feet, wishing she had never looked inside that dark book.
Elysia stared at the gorgeous iron-paned windows nestled into the stone walls of her mother’s sitting room. The rain beat a steady tempo against the glass.
The song might be a dirge.
She glanced at the clock and stopped herself. Beatriz would not be attending, regardless of the time. She knew this down to her frozen toes. But it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have been any help, anyway. The rain dirged on, agreeing with her thoughts. Elysia knew better than to expect anything from her sister.
A person didn’t have to be a keeper of secrets to hear what was whispered about Beatriz Parker. Sharp as glass. She left impossible slivers in your skin. A woman who hid herself in debauchery instead of perfection. She slid in and out of carriages, and waltzed like smoke through dark, liquor-filled parlors. Boys, girls, dresses, or suits. It did not matter to Beatriz as long as she had a good time.
Elysia still wouldn’t have minded her company. Their relationship had always been strained, but now that they both lived beyond the castle walls their main contact was limited to the occasions on which her sister slyly asked for information about certain Kavians, and then she disappeared again until she needed to be fed another secret.
She always did seem to need another secret.
But Elysia worried, so she doled out the secrets like money that might keep her big sister safe one more night.
Elysia’s thoughts were broken as Georgia Parker walked briskly into the room. She adjusted the position of three priceless works of art by just a hair and fluffed all four pillows in the room before Elysia could even blink. A breath later she was on to refolding the rich maroon blanket that lounged upon the overstuffed loveseat.
Elysia straightened in her chair before she could become the next possession to be adjusted.
Her mother finally settled onto the intricately stitched armchair resting across from her. She crossed her ankles. “Did you call for drinks yet? No? Good, they’ll be hot then.” Georgia stood and lightly tugged the golden cord that would alert her staff to haul ass like the Kavian winds.
Elysia was caught between a laugh and a cringe at the thought of how fast her mother’s servants must dart through the castle halls. The same servant Elysia had nearly collided with days before, curly haired and with cinnamon freckles dusting her face, appeared in the doorway. The girl was breathless and color spotted her cheeks.
“Yes, Mrs. Parker?”
Georgia looked the girl in the eyes. “Two steaming bumblebees, please.”
She was gone without a word.
Georgia smiled with closed lips and leaned back in her chair.
“Skittish that one. Still haven’t caught her name.”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but Elysia knew she would find out. Georgia Parker was both the best and worst person to work for in this castle. She would run you ragged and demand perfection where there was none to be found, but she would also discreetly slip Crown catering leftovers into your hands and ensure your family was fed and housed within the castle walls.
She used to think it was out of some motherly kindness, but Elysia had come to realize that it was simply an extension of her pragmatism. Servants with round, full bellies who slept soundly in their quarters worked harder and were far more likely to keep their lips shut than ones you kicked outside to find housing and food with their meager coin. So, her mother knew their names and treated them like their positions really meant something.
Elysia smiled at her mother. She knew the positions meant nothing. At least to her mother.
A heartbeat later, the girl silently placed the tray of drinks and scones on the table between them. Georgia caught her hand before she could get away. “Dear, remind me of your name?” Her patented smile felt so warm that Elysia almost believed it herself.
The girl’s eyes shot between Elysia and her mother.
Her voice was a squeak. “Hannah, ma’am, Hannah.”
Georgia kept smiling and snuck a scone into the girl’s apron. “Thank you, Hannah. Have a good afternoon.”
She turned back to Elysia, taking hold of a mug. Bumblebees were a common enough winter drink in Kava if you could afford tea. The simple mix of gin and tea smelled divine and was strong enough to warm your bones after being in the rain.
She sipped her drink. “I imagine your sister is not attending? Have you spoken to her lately?”
Elysia resisted the urge to crack her neck. It was the same questions all the time. And the answers did not change. Smiling pleasantly, she shook her head. “No, I haven’t heard from her recently.”
A look that said Beatriz would be getting a nonnegotiable type of summons crossed her mother’s face. “Hm. We’ll have to see about that.”
She handed a mug to Elysia. “On to business. I’ll be hosting a cocktail party for all the diplomats coming into Kava next week, and I’ll need you in attendance.”
She waved a hand. “Nothing exceptional. But I'd like you there nonetheless—the old bats always like to see the younger generation.” Razor eyes slid over Elysia. “Wear something flattering.”
Elysia stiffened, but merely took a small pull of her drink. “I imagine that Remy and Daphne will be welcome, then?”
Her mother snapped her fingers. “Good thinking. The three of you are such a striking set all together.”
Georgia’s eyes were focused, scheming even as she rested back like she hadn’t a care in the world. The sight put Elysia on edge. Her mother was always making moves, forever thinking of politics, and Elysia was under the growing impression that she herself was on the docket today.
“Have you given any thought to the Raven Ball?”
Her discomfort increased. Her father didn’t like to involve her mother in her errands for him, but perhaps he had looped her in for an event as important as the Raven Ball. She tiptoed around the question. “What do you mean? Food, décor, guest list?”
Georgia smiled like a cat with a mouse, and it was all Elysia could do to keep her eyes from narrowing suspiciously. She had not heard any rumblings about the Raven Ball yet. It was nearly three months away. But her mother was looking far too satisfied. Georgia lifted a strong shoulder, leaning in conspiratorially.
“Some might say it would be the most perfect evening for a royal proposal.”
Elysia froze. Fire and alcohol raced through her veins and yet she froze down to her very bones.
Georgia’s smile was not fake as she laughed deeply at her daughter’s shock and dropped a sly wink. “Oh, you had no idea! But us girls must keep on top of these things. It will be the best Raven Ball Relaclave has ever seen.”
The gleam in her mother’s eye did not lie. It would be an extravagant and audacious affair. But it was not shock plastered upon Elysia’s face.
It was terror.
Rollie’s words resounded in the confines of her skull.
He would have you killed.
He will always choose the Crown.
Because he is the Crown.
Elysia swallowed her panic and painted herself elated. The prince was to propose in two months' time.
Two months, she had two months.
It had already been so tricky. Always disappearing for hours at a time to train with Gage. Scavenging secrets from both the fair and deprived of her city for her father. And then pulling back from the prince ever so slightly once this nightmare began.
She thought of his parting shot in the library. That he wanted to talk soon. She chewed on her lip. Topp was smart, but usually he was so preoccupied with his own business that any strange behaviors on her part went unnoticed. But that had been before her curse had changed. Maybe he had noticed something after all.
No, she decided, Topp would not pry or ask questions. They laughed, they played, and the sex was phenomenal, but it was a rare moment they delved into the sorts of things that made them tick. What went on below the surface stayed where it belonged. If she was honest, it was one of the many reasons she loved him.
It would be fine, she had to be fine.
Elysia strode out of the castle that evening with another of Lynd’s baskets secure beneath her cloak. The woman would not be deterred, and Elysia really didn’t have the heart nor belly to stop her.
She made it all of two blocks when a floppy-haired young boy sped around the corner, collided against her legs, and fell back with a humph. Elysia paused, her irritation quickly melting into amusement at the sight of him shocked and sprawled on the ground.
She held out a gloved hand, and the boy took it with a grin. “Sorry, miss. I’ve got a letter for ya.”
Elysia scanned him and did not find a sash or any other insignia to mark the boy as Crown. She took the letter curiously and went to grab a coin in payment, but he had already charged away, reckless in his pursuit of his next delivery victim.
Stepping out of the crowds, Elysia leaned against an old closed-down eatery’s walls and tore the note open.
See you tonight, dollface. BP
She had not seen Beatriz in nearly four months. Elysia pressed her lips together. No doubt, Beatriz needed dirt on some pretty rich boy that she’d pissed off or stolen drugs from.
Her heels struck the streets angrily. Frankly, it was shocking that her sister even bothered with a note. Last time she’d just snuck through a window at three in the morning, and Elysia had stuck a knife to her throat before her feet had even hit the floor.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t such a surprise she sent a note this time after all.
Gage had laughed himself hoarse when Elysia had told him about it the next morning. Elysia’s lips almost gave into a smile at the thought. The man didn’t laugh enough. Not that she could blame him.
She twisted the locks into her dingy flat, as Lynd had so lovingly called it, and heaved a sigh of relief. Behind this door, these walls—there was no one to hide from but herself.
She set her goods on the table and dropped her cloak onto a chair. Within minutes, the fire was blazing and every stitch of uncomfortable clothing was tossed to the winds.
Better, much better already .
Between her buttery soft deep blue pajamas and the woolen socks covering her feet, Elysia soon felt the damp Kavian chill dissipate. Walking around, she lit enough lamps to brighten the small living room.
Her flat was a luxurious, eclectic mix of old steals from within the castle walls. It had been no small feat to lug the plush, velveteen poufs and worn, stuffed leather couch to her flat in the dead of night, but Elysia had paid off Gage’s men handsomely to carry her forbidden cargo.
Gage called it an abuse of power and threatened to smoke out her new furnishings.
She called it absolutely necessary and had handed him an ancient Kavian blade she’d found beneath the castle that swiftly melded his lips into a shit-eating grin.
The thick rug she sat upon had been tossed from the royal sitting room ages ago only to collect dust in a closet. Elysia had been more than happy to rescue it from decay. She ran her fingers over the smooth cream fibers, feeling herself relax even further as she settled in for the night. In truth, her flat was not dingy at all. It was filled with the treasures of a queen.
She laid out a small sheet and held the edges down with two old books. She’d really hate to accidentally grind dirt into the rug. Then she placed a few pots and various dead flowers out in front of her.
The live ones, they were her secret joy. Few knew how much she enjoyed her time spent knuckle deep in the soil trying to cajole seedlings to life and whispering encouragement to the rare bloom.
Kava had no sun. It had no flowers.
But she had seen a picture book of them as a child and became obsessed with finding a way to harvest them even here in Relaclave. They had moss and mold aplenty, but not the blooms she dreamed of holding.
Rollie, tiny scientist that he was, had pushed his glasses up, and set to work at crafting her the sun. No small feat for a boy of eight years. She imagined that was why he had succeeded, though. No adult would be brave enough to think they could capture the sun.
Rollie had.
He’d dug through books on other lands that still met the sun without Kava’s constant filter of soot and haze, and created what he called a flower house. It was child sized and easily carried, only able to grow a few plants at a time. Elysia still did not understand the mechanics of the reflective devices Rollie had installed on the top panes of the little house, but light was collected and magnified, and it created the perfect womb from which her seedlings could grow.
She sat contently in front of the fire with dirt under her nails and a jug of stolen wine off to her side. Wine was an expensive indulgence. Gin remained the drink of choice for most Kavians given the abundance of their forests. And yet a good deep red was still her favorite. She’d swiped this latest bottle on her way out of the castle. Brain still buzzing with thoughts of Topp, proposals, and her looming execution, it’d seemed necessary. Bringing the bottle to her lips, she took a swig. A dark drop clung to her mouth. She absently wiped it away, debating internally which flowers to plant next.
Carefully pressing dirt on top of the new seeds until each little pot felt just right, she then placed them in the flower house. After a quick mumbled prayer to the gods-knew-who, she returned the flower house to its home on the windowsill.
Elysia scrubbed her fingers clean of dirt the best she could and then sat back down in front of the fire. Time to earn this month’s rent. She took another swig of wine and rubbed her hands together, the image already filling her mind’s eye. Delicate glass in different shapes and sizes lay before her, waiting for her to begin.
She held a single bloom out, inspecting it as if it was a gem. It was one of the few flowers that had held on for her this month. Knees folded beneath her, she lowered her arm to rest against her thighs with her eyes still hooked on the flower as if mesmerized. Her gaze softened, the beauty of the flower working its own subtle magic. Tension drained down and out of her. Her whole body relaxed in an airless exhale. Small white diamond specks that looked like stars against the velvet blue-black of the petals coaxed out a hidden sense of wonder within her. The flower’s delicate, faded scent lulled her even further.
It was with regret that she placed the pressed flower upon a thin sheet of glass.
She glanced out the window, a sense of forlornness rooting in her chest. She would never know what Kava had once been. She would never know wildflowers instead of decay. Her blooms all had an expiration. At their peak, they were snipped. A life cut short. Stuck flat between the pages of a book. Flattened, but still vibrant, she crafted them into art. At least this way, more people had a chance to experience their beauty, she supposed. Everything died eventually, after all.
She studied her small collection, picking out accents. Yes, those. Her hands moved almost of their own accord. Peppering sprigs of greenery around the bloom. Adjusting the design until her heart quietly glowed at the sight. She gave a satisfied hum and decided it would do.
She had just unstoppered a small pot of paste when a series of loud knocks with no rhythm shook the door on its hinges. One would think a drunk ex-lover had come to visit rather than a young woman.
Elysia frowned at her unfinished work, but got to her feet, and peered out the looking hole. There was Beatriz, alright. As tall as most men with a silver mane that hung like a sheet of deathly sharp metal.
Her foot tapped against the black-and-white tiled floor. “I know you’re standing there,” she drawled, arms crossed.
Elysia didn’t respond, just picked at her fingernails. Damn dirt. Impossible to get out. Provoking her sister was one of her greatest joys in life. Unfortunately, Beatriz felt the same. Her drawl became an annoyed growl and her fist slammed against the door.
“ Elysia .”
Elysia grinned and slowly started to count to ten. She only made it to five before her sister was banging against the door like she could break through it with her fists alone.
“You're such a brat?—”
Beatriz swung a swift foot at the door right as Elysia ripped it open. Beatriz toppled into the room, legs buckling and arms flailing.
Elysia smiled sweetly. “You need to be careful! Could break an ankle like that.”
Beatriz glowered, shooting her a look as she straightened out her lanky frame. “Don’t use that gross Crown voice with me. Gives me the creeps.”
Walking back over to her project, Elysia settled down onto the floor once more as if she hadn’t just antagonized a viper.
“Shut the door, will you? And lock it. Who knows who followed you here with the company you keep.”
Elysia smirked as Triz’s dark plum lips grumbled. The old nickname still fell out sometimes. Familiar and foreign, just like them. Her sister twisted all the locks and strutted into the living space with her hands upon her hips like she owned it.
Ignoring her, Elysia proceeded to paint a thin layer of translucent paste on the matching sheet of glass. After corking the paste, she finally turned her attention to Beatriz.
“So, what do you want? What do you need this time?” Her tone remained matter-of-fact. They both knew there was only one reason Beatriz ever visited.
She lined up the edges of the glass and pressed the sheets together.
Perfect . It would be ready to sell once framed.
Her sister stared over her shoulder. “You... You’re the one who sells these?”
Elysia glanced up. “Keeps this roof over my head. Not all of us can swindle our endless lovers into paying our bills.”
“You’re literally dating a prince.” Her face tilted with a knowing sort of pity. “You’re that bad at sex, huh?”
But then her demeanor shifted from mocking to a narrow, scheming type of focus as she stared at the flower art. “How much?”
“Hm?” Elysia stood, not answering Triz’s question. Why do you suddenly care? was the real question. She’d been living on her own for a few years now, selling her pieces the whole time. It wasn’t a hidden operation. Every week, she was at the market. Even her parents knew about it. They hated it, of course. Said it was wrong to remind people of what Kava used to be. Wrong to wish for anything different.
Beatriz’s long fingers motioned impatiently at the framed flower pressings that were ready to be sold. “How. Much.”
Elysia shook her head at Beatriz’s agitation with a little grin. Too easy. Carrying her latest piece to a safe spot where it could rest and dry, she answered. “Depends on the piece. About ten coins, though.”
Triz’s eyebrows shot up. “Ten coins? Ten measly fucking coins? Most folks have never even seen a damn flower in Kava! You could make a killing if you wanted.”
Elysia bristled, muttering under her breath as she put away her supplies. “I make enough, okay? You drugged-up cow’s ass.”
Grinning, Beatriz tossed the small pot of paste up and down. Elysia snatched it out of the air. “Give me that. And stop touching things.”
Beatriz waved away her insults and orders as if they were a fly, already examining a knickknack that Topp had given her. “At least us drugged-up cows don’t have assholes so tight that we walk funny.” She gave Elysia a look while miming a ridiculous walk, her legs stiff and butt puckered.
“I do not walk like that.”
“Sure, you don’t.” She grabbed a framed flower pressing, making Elysia’s blood pressure jump.
“If you could do more of this”—she gestured around at the dirt and plants—“would you? You could have a serious business. There’s no one else in the land with flowers, dead or alive. They’re not worth importing, either.”
Elysia’s head slanted, gauging her sister’s sharp observations as she sank onto the arm of the leather couch. “Can’t. Rollie made the flower house, and I don’t think he’s too keen on doing me any favors right now. Besides, since when does Relaclave’s favorite party girl care about anything serious?”
Her words were curious but still caustic. Once again, Beatriz didn’t even bat an eye. Elysia hadn’t really expected her to—her sister was well aware of what people said about her. Star of Relaclave’s most salacious tales, her sister never missed an opportunity to reprimand her for caring what others thought.
“You’ll never win them all, Elysia. Those sniveling old bags of bones wouldn’t know a good time if it smacked them in their fake teeth.”
Elysia’s lips twitched at the memory. Her sister, drunk and hanging out of a carriage, giving life advice.
She left her memory and found Beatriz looking at her in annoyance, an expression that was usually followed by snide comments about Elysia being such a precious little doll . Beatriz kept her mouth shut for once, though. Instead, she filled it with wine. Tipping the jug back with expert ease, she smacked her lips once finished and looked around expectantly.
“Don’t you eat around here?”
Elysia huffed at the unspoken demand. Wordlessly, she grabbed two tea plates and plopped down Lynd’s meat pies . Handing one off to Beatriz, she curled up on the couch to wait. She allowed her sister all of two bites before placing her own pie back down.
Any day now.
Triz licked her fingers and leaned back against the wall. “Scarzan. What do you know?”
There it is.
She frowned. Beatriz didn’t usually get caught up in political affairs. Scarzan was a disgusting specimen. He also happened to be one of the Bellian representatives visiting soon. “What is it you want with him?”
The diplomats had not even arrived yet. How could she possibly have found herself ass up in their matters already?
Beatriz shrugged. “We have a common interest, that's all. Never hurts to have a little leverage in your pocket. And you, sister dear, seem to have large pockets these days.”
Taking a bite of pie, her sister spoke through her mouthful of food. “I heard about those con artist bloodletters. The undead gods know who you paid off to get those tips, but you did it somehow.”
Irritation boiled within Elysia, building like a geyser of steam, but her sister continued, oblivious as ever.
“And you still spend half your time up the Crown’s skirt. Doing all of Father’s dirty work.” She swallowed and grinned wickedly. “Or perhaps I should say, down the Crown’s pants.”
The geyser almost blew, heat rising rapidly from her chest to her face. She didn’t care about the sexual innuendo, but the jab at being their father’s pet was a poke against a bruise that would likely never heal.
Jaw tight, she spat out an ineloquent rebuttal. “As if you know anything about my life. All you ever do is show up when you need something like some kind of leech. I’m not helping you this time. Get out. ” She gestured pointedly at the door, her eyes cold and voice harsh.
Unfazed, Beatriz chewed slowly, staring her dead in the eyes and waiting. Her comments had hit their mark and she knew it, thanks to Elysia’s oversized reaction. This wasn’t the first time they’d played this game. Beatriz would say something terrible, setting off Elysia’s temper, so she could pretend she wasn’t going to help and feel like she had a spine for all of two seconds before inevitably caving. But they both knew she’d cave.
She always did.
Beatriz might not know what exactly Elysia did for their father, but she was smart enough to capitalize on the oily self-loathing her sister tried so hard to hide.
Elysia felt the muscles in her neck grow taut as her frustration mounted. Every last drop of cool, collected logic seemed to abandon ship when it came to Beatriz. She imagined throttling her sister. Beatriz didn’t know shit about why she worked for their father. She just liked to judge her and throw it in her face whenever she got the chance. Selfish, ignorant bitch.
“I need to know before that damn party Mother is hosting.” Beatriz tossed her plate aside carelessly, scattering crumbs everywhere.
Elysia glared at her sister, her temper falling and annoyed embarrassment rising in its place thanks to her own inability to maintain her composure. She sifted through what she knew about the incoming diplomat and tried to find a single trail that could possibly connect back to her sister. On paper, diplomat Scarzan of Bellia ran their neighbor’s treasury, much like Remy’s father did for Kava. Off paper, he was a connoisseur of a Bellian card game called fitz. He spent much of his unreasonable salary playing both fitz and any other game that could swallow money.
She ignored her sister’s impatient foot tapping, taking her time to weigh out the value of her secrets.
Rumor had it that Scarzan had bet off one of his daughters to a Bellian crime lord. No one had seen or heard from the girl in months. But it was merely a rumor. A rumor that Elysia would need to confirm before it was of any use to her sister.
Her fingers combed through her hair as she thought.
Bellians valued their daughters deeply. Unlike most lands that Elysia knew of, the Bellians considered their daughters to be gifts. Gifts that grew into oracles, warriors, and the mothers of every single future Bellian. If the public learned what he had done, it would leave the diplomat not only shamed but likely dead. They were as ruthless as they were wise in that land.
It was a secret that could break this man. And that was fine if the information was true. She could appreciate a culture that meted out swift justice for a crime such as that.
Still nestled in the safety of her couch, she mused that this wasn’t the type of secret to be gifted lightly. It wasn’t the type to be gifted at all. Because she wanted this one for herself.
She toyed with keeping it. She’d had plans for this little tidbit. Been holding onto it for the right moment. The only reason she hadn’t dropped it in her father’s lap already was because international accusations were tricky. She needed something truly solid, irrefutable even, before she made her move. Her father hated Scarzan. She could’ve milked it for time off. Time off that she desperately needed.
Beatriz’s unblinking eyes beat down on her, and she sighed. There goes those plans. Looks like she’d be going out into the night and listening to Relaclave whisper. All so that Beatriz could wield the truth like a scythe.
Elysia studied her sister. She was expectant and waiting. As if there wasn’t a chance Elysia would leave her hanging. She’s always so sure I’ll bail her out. A staggering wave of resentment crashed over Elysia. Bitterness filled her mouth even as she agreed. “Fine.”
Her resentment turned to ash, though, as the one thought that never failed to sway her hand returned. Please don’t wind up dead. The plaintive words were quiet in her mind. It wasn’t a new thought. She wasn’t even sure it was from the good of her heart. There was just something unbearably lonely about imagining a world without her sister.
Her wild, infuriating sister.
She envied Beatriz. The pure freedom she’d clawed out and clung to. It was a life that had never been in the cards for Elysia. Uncontrollable. That’s what Beatriz was. Their parents despised it. Had long ago given up on reforming her into someone they could use. If drugs and alcohol were the cost, then Beatriz was more than willing to pay it.
Elysia straightened and crossed her legs. “I may have something that could help you.”
Beatriz smiled smugly. “I knew it.” Her words cut short as she devolved into a coughing fit. Shaking her head, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gave a half grin. “Smoking too much.”
Elysia ignored her and held out a hand in pause. “It’s too big to offer for nothing. Family or not, I will need something in return.”
A frown creased Triz’s smooth face. “You want to bargain?”
Elysia let a little bit of the woman she had become shine through her eyes and watched for the moment it registered on Beatriz’s face. There . Uncertainty hidden behind a patronizing smirk. Good. Her sister could bother with a little respect.
“The information you request is worth far more than whatever juvenile tangle you find yourself in. I will tell you now with your assurance that you will not act until I can verify its truth next week with the diplomat’s arrival. It comes with a cost.” Even Elysia could hear the snootiness rolling off her words, but she couldn’t help it—Beatriz brought out the worst in her sometimes.
She watched her sister closely. She could have sworn the glint in her sister’s eye was one of thrill and excitement.
“Name your price.”
“I shall hold you in my debt and you must fulfill whatever it is I desire when the time comes. Do you agree?”
There was a formality to her words that had Beatriz recoiling, considering carefully. It was like Elysia could see every thought race through her hard gray eyes. She pitied the fools that thought a vapid, long-legged waif had climbed into their bed.
Beatriz nodded once sharply and stuck out a hand. “You have a deal.”
The situation must be worse than she had thought for Beatriz to agree so easily to such a terrible bargain. She had expected at least a small amount of negotiation. Perhaps her sister still thought that she was not capable of her own machinations.
Elysia was not sure if she was wrong or not.
Time would tell.
But like Beatriz said, it was always good to have a bit of leverage in your pocket.
Elysia stood and slapped her palm into her sister’s outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake.
“Good.” She made quick work of explaining the Bellian diplomat’s vices and blunders, not bothering to mince any words.
Beatriz’s eyebrows lifted and she shook her head. “Bastard. Send word when you’ve done what you need to do.” She stretched and made to stand.
She was almost to the door when her eyes snagged on something resting on the table. Elysia watched as the angles of Beatriz’s body became harsh, the blood rushing to the edges of her cheekbones in a bright pink flush.
Beatriz snatched the grimy coin off the table and held it out like it was treason itself.
Her mouth became a harsh slash. “ Where did you get this coin, you pilfering, glorified busybody? ”