“I don’t believe so.” If what Corrin says is right, Dagny would know if she was, unless she’s using an alias.
She hesitates, her eyes flipping to my bedroom doorway before she asks quietly, “Would you like me to ask around?”
This is opposite to what Zander insisted, but I know in my gut it’s the smart move. People may not trust known gossips with sensitive information, but when there’s anything interesting or suspicious happening, it’s these same gossips people rush to and compare notes, and sometimes those random notes can add up to important details. Like that tributary from Bellcross murdered by Tyree. On its own, it’s a tragic case. Adding the context of the Ybarisans circulating vials of poison around Islor, it hints of a deeper plan.
I’m betting on Dagny having more acumen than Corrin believes and connections that I need, but even if I’m wrong, word that Princess Romeria is looking for a woman named Ianca will spread quickly. Hopefully to Ianca herself, if she is in Cirilea.
If she summoned the fates for me as Tyree said she did, then she might have answers to my questions. And I’d rather ask them without Zander around.
“If you don’t mind. Discreetly, though.”
“Yes, of course, Your Highness. Discretion is my specialty.”
I clench my teeth to stop from laughing.
With another curtsy and a glance at my bedroom, as if she senses what I’m asking her to do would not get Corrin’s seal of approval, she rushes to the door.
Zander is standing outside, in conversation with Elisaf.
“Oh, Your Highness! I wasn’t expectin’ you!” Dagny exclaims with a burst of surprise, stumbling to curtsy. “Hope you’re havin’ a fine day!” She doesn’t wait for him to respond, rushing off down the hall.
Her flustered reaction draws a lazy chuckle as he watches her go, and I smile at the pleasant sound. Humans are said to be embarrassingly easy to read, so what could he learn in her pulse just now? Nothing of concern, obviously. If there was ill intent or hatred in her, Zander would know. I suppose I can assume that Dagny was not the one conspiring against the royal family.
But what if no one was conspiring with Princess Romeria? Or at least, not deliberately. Dagny has no idea why I’m looking for Ianca, but she has offered her help because I am to be the queen, and for whatever reason, she trusts that my objectives are good.
What if all of Princess Romeria’s scheming was like this? Using people who trusted her for her nefarious goals, without them knowing? What if Zander is chasing an imaginary person?
Zander turns back in time to catch my smile, and his own genial expression holds. With a quick word to Elisaf, he enters my room, strolling purposely toward me. “Wendeline works wonders, does she not?” He’s exchanged his white tunic for a black one, probably because the other had my blood all over it. He stops well within my personal space, his eyes roaming my face. “Much better. Except …” He reaches up to rub the soft pad of his thumb back and forth over my jawline, below my ear. “Missed a spot,” he murmurs, his voice dropping.
Blood, I assume he means.
I focus on my breathing, hoping my racing pulse doesn’t give me away.
The knowing flicker in his eyes tells me that it has.
“I did no such thing!” Corrin is indignant as she emerges from my bedroom to curtsy for the king. Her eyes dart between the two of us, and she clears her throat. “If there is nothing else, I need to see to the kitchen staff. Between the crown hunt and the tournament day, we have our work cut out for us.” I don’t know how many hats Corrin wears under this roof, but I’m getting the sense that she barks orders and people obey.
Zander removes his hand and I feel the absence acutely. “Is there anything else you need, Romeria?”
“I … no.” I swallow against my own fluster. Since when does Zander ask for my opinion on anything?
“Is Wendeline still here?”
“Collecting her strength in Her Highness’s bedchamber,” Corrin confirms and then marches off.
“Your Highness.” Wendeline appears, her hand on the door frame as if to steady herself before moving forward to curtsy.
“No need, Wendeline. I know you are drained. We have much to discuss, and I feel you might be able to help us with some of it.” He gestures to the seating area. “Both of you. Please.” He says please, but I know it’s not a request.
She dips her head in acknowledgment and then settles into the wing chair.
I find a spot on the settee across from her. The tension that always swirls around Zander is ever present. Still, those first few moments that he entered were a nice reprieve. “What was so important that Atticus came down to get you?”
Zander’s lips twist.
“Seriously?” He still doesn’t trust me? “I just had my face broken for you.”
He sighs. “There are reports of several tributaries found dead in villages outside Hawkrest and Salt Bay. Their throats were slashed.”
“Just like the woman in Bellcross.”
“Yes,” he confirms. “Lord Rengard’s letter said she was an exceptionally shy and devoted creature. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to harm her.” He watches me closely, and I get the sense he’s feeding me a piece of important information, waiting to see if I clue in.
“They misjudged her.” I echo the reason Tyree gave for killing the tributary. A devoted creature. Devoted to her keeper. “It’s because she wasn’t willing to poison him. These others must have refused as well.”
“Or they figured out what the Ybarisans have in their possession and threatened to speak.” He frowns. “But I also must assume that many are willing.”
“They’re tired of having their children taken away.” I grimace with new understanding.
Wendeline’s curious eyes bounce back and forth between us, but she remains quiet.
Zander drops into the limited space on the small settee, forcing me to shift to make room. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leans forward and studies the priestess until she begins to squirm.
I know that unnerving feeling well.
“Ianca.”
She waits a moment and then, as if realizing he is waiting for her to speak, says, “I’m sorry, Your Highness? I do not understand.”
“Do you know anyone by that name?”
“Here, in Islor? No? I don’t believe so.”
“What about in Ybaris?”
She shakes her head.
“An elemental,” he pushes. “She’s one of Neilina’s.”
“I left Mordain when I was seventeen, and I never spent time in Argon. And I’ve been here for twenty-eight years. May I ask, what is this about?”
Zander sighs. “It is as we suspected. Margrethe was not the first to summon the fates for Romeria.”
My jaw drops. “You already knew!” Or at least suspected. And he didn’t tell me? I don’t know why I’m surprised or angry by this—he’s hidden everything else from me, only revealing information as necessary—but my indignation burns.
He ignores my reaction. “Ianca summoned Aoife.”
“Aoife.” Wendeline’s eyes widen. “Against Neilina’s will?”
“Tyree did not say.”