“I don’t know how you expect to learn when you treat everything like a mockery,” Esther says, pointing at my wineglass. “Not because you can’t do it, but because you don’t care enough to try.” She shakes her head. “I’d love to be an advocate for you, because you’re alone here and could use the help. And the way we treat the Nameless population is one of the longest-standing shames shared across all the cities. But you? As a representative of all of Seriden’s Nameless, you’re not making it easy.”
I stare her down for a moment before straightening in my chair and picking up the flute of sweet wine. I hold it delicately.
“If you don’t mind, Ambassador,” I say coyly, “I know we’ve barely started the ground-spice meringue, but we really must talk about the import tax your city has levied against the predefined trade goods. And might I suggest a white sapling-shade wine to pair with the meringue? It’s absolutely perfect for soothing the heat of the Lindragore ground-spice.”
Esther is slack-jawed for a moment.
“I think the napkin has fallen off your lap, dear,” I say. “You should pick it up off the floor, along with your jaw.”
“How did…You’ve been paying attention this whole time.” Esther frowns. “Then why do you act so crass? Why not allow Eldritch to pass on good news of your etiquette training? It’s like you have no appreciation for the opportunity you’ve been given!”
I feel my face grow hot and—annoyingly—I hear Eldritch’s voice in my head. Be calm and collected. Yet the smile on my face disappears.
“The opportunity I’ve been given?” I repeat slowly, my anger building. I set the flute down. “What do you think this is to me?” I point to the crown tattoo on my arm.
“That is the highest privilege of Seriden!” she says. “It is power, and you treat it like it’s gaudy jewelry to be stolen and sold!”
I let out a slow breath. Calm and collected. Calm. Collected. “You think this is a privilege for me? Maybe for you it would be. Gaiza, if you had this crown, your life would be perfect now. You think this is a chance to save Seriden. You think it’s a gift! That I should be proud. My only friend is in prison right now. She was nearly executed, and to save her, I gave myself up and got locked in your dungeon for three days. This tattoo is going to get me killed. It’s not power—not for someone like me. It’s not jewelry. It’s a shackle. You want me to take this seriously? You want me to act like the queen you think I’m allowed to be? I’ll start doing that the moment you tell me how having this tattoo on my arm is going to do anything but get me and my friend killed.” I hunch over the table angrily. To her credit, she doesn’t say anything.
She reclines in her chair and stares pensively at the wall. I know I’ve given her something to think about, but I don’t know what she actually thinks. I reach out to sense her aura, but it’s constantly shifting and unsettled. Eldritch finally returns with a silver tray in his arms, but neither of us makes a move to correct our posture.
When Eldritch sees my knife still balanced on the wineglass, he sighs. “Are you perhaps incapable of—”
“I am more than capable!” I shout, slamming my hand on the table. The knife falls from the rim of the glass and clatters onto my plate. As it settles, I say more politely, “But that’s not what this is all about, is it? These etiquette lessons. The Assassins’ Festival. It’s not about proving I’m capable of being queen. It’s about proving who I am and who I’m not. I am Nameless. I am not a Royal. And that makes everyone nervous.”
Eldritch doesn’t seem the least bit offended by my outburst. I imagine he’s seen his fair share of outbursts over the years. He sets the silver tray down, and I let out a long, slow breath.
Esther asks pleasantly, “What is it that you’ve been so kind to grace us with, dear Eldritch?”
He gives us a knowing look. “If not manners, then dessert.”
Underneath the tray is a toasted, braided pastry. Scents of cinnamon and sugar waft upward. Delight fills Esther’s face and she seems to forget or forgive our dispute now that there’s a sugary dessert involved.
Eldritch places a pastry on Esther’s plate and one on mine. I couldn’t possibly eat anything else, but it does smell fantastic.
Eldritch gestures to the remaining pastry before him. “This dessert is called the weaver’s basket, so named because of the braided dough. Often it is served inverted and filled with fruit. Looks like the kitchen sprinkled some extra sugar on top. Perfection!”
I think about my visits to the dining hall over the past week. There was a tray of these, presented in a similar fashion, but the sugar was sprinkled on in a spiral.
Esther selects a puny fork and knife and starts carefully cutting off one of the woven strands of bread. I lean down and carefully smell the pastry.
Eldritch nods as if I’m appreciating the cinnamon scent. I lick the tip of my finger and touch it to the sugar. When I touch the white powder to my tongue, an overwhelmingly sweet taste strikes me. I immediately spit it out onto the floor. For good measure, I rinse my mouth with the sweet white wine.
Eldritch gasps as though I’ve insulted his firstborn child.
“My lady!” Eldritch shouts.
“Put that down immediately,” I say, pointing at Esther’s fork. “It’s poison.”
“It’s what?” Esther says with an incredulous laugh.
Annoyed, I focus on the fork in her hand and the one in Eldritch’s. I imagine their forks turning into snakes.
Esther shouts in fear, dropping her fork like it has bitten her, and Eldritch throws his to the floor.
“It’s salite poison,” I clarify, letting the illusion of reptilian cutlery disappear. “It comes in two forms, and one of them is a very sweet white powder that’s deadly if you ingest it.” I point at what we all thought was powdered sugar on the dessert.
Eldritch jumps up, aghast, and Esther pushes back from the table with a screech of her chair. I check their desserts as well, confirming the presence of the overly smooth salite powder.
“Congratulations,” I say. “You just survived an assassination attempt.”
They gape in horror at me.
“What?” I say. “You should be happy. You don’t seem happy. I did say survived, didn’t I?”
They exchange glances, and Eldritch sits down.
I continue, “The poison is a bummer, though, because I really wanted to try this dessert. Well…I mean…since the poison is on the top, I could come at it from the bottom.” I tilt the dessert.