When I step out, the cold air is a welcome slap to the senses. It keeps me from grabbing the first person I see to ask about a certain electricon who may or may not be inside. This time I take Nanabel by the arm, not to speed her up, but to slow myself down.
She pats my hand softly. For all I’ve done, all the disappointment I’ve brought, she still loves me. “Let’s feed you,” she says under her breath. “And let’s get me a drink.”
“Yes to both,” I mutter back.
The receiving hall of the estate buzzes with activity, and it’s no wonder. The premier’s home will be full to the rafters housing the delegations from the Scarlet Guard, the States, and everyone in between. I assume some will have to be housed in the city as well. The estate isn’t as large as Whitefire Palace, and even that couldn’t house the full Nortan court if necessary.
The sudden memory of my former home stings, but not as badly as it used to. At least now I’m doing something more important than maintaining a monarchy.
Another representative from the People’s Assembly joins Radis in the center of the hall, her suit so deep green it could be black. Her hair is bone white, her skin is dark brown, and her blood is red, judging by the warm flush beneath her cheeks. While she introduces herself as Representative Shiren, and apologizes for the premier’s late meeting, I try to remember the quickest way to Carmadon’s kitchen.
Servants begin showing our delegation to their rooms, leading them away in very specific groups. I frown when I realize the Reds and Silvers are being separated, and obviously so. A foolish maneuver, in my opinion. If reconstruction is to work, if blood equality is going to stick in Norta, we have to do everything we can to make it the norm among ourselves. Perhaps the Montfortans think this separation will be less jarring to my nobles, but I couldn’t disagree more. I swallow the urge to object. It’s been too long a day. I’ll find someone to argue with later.
“Officer Calore, ma’am.” One of the servants nods at my grandmother and me. The title, new as it is, doesn’t bother me at all. I’ve been called far worse. Tiberias, for example. And it has a nice ring to it. It suits me better than Your Majesty ever did.
I nod in acknowledgment to the servant. He responds in kind. “I’d be happy to show you to your rooms.”
I duck my head to the older man in his neat gray-green uniform. “If you tell me where, I can manage. I was hoping to find something to eat—”
“That won’t be necessary,” he says, smoothly cutting me off in a way that is skillfully polite. “The premier and his husband have arranged for dinner to be brought up when you’re settled. Mr. Carmadon isn’t one to let his fine meals go to waste.”
“Ah, of course.” Of course they don’t want any of us snooping around. Even me.
Nanabel stiffens next to me, raising her chin. I half expect her to refuse. No one orders around a queen, former or otherwise. Instead she presses her lips together into a grim, lined smile. “Thank you. Lead on, then.”
The servant nods his thanks and gestures for us to follow, looping Julian and Sara along. I expect my uncle to protest as I did, wanting to visit the vast library instead of the kitchens. To my surprise, he hesitates only a second before following in step with the rest of us, Sara’s arm tucked into his own. Her eyes dart, taking in the vast mansion around her. This is her first visit, and she keeps her opinions to herself, perhaps to share with Julian later. Long years of silence are a hard habit to break.
Though my grandmother and I are no longer royals of another nation, and I’m barely more than a soldier, the premier houses us all in the main structure of the estate, in a proud suite of green-and-gold rooms branching off a private salon. I expect he means to charm Nanabel with finery, and keep her happy over the next few days. Like me, she’s integral to maintaining a relationship with the Silver nobles tentatively helping the reconstruction. If a nice view and silk-upholstered couches help her along, so be it.
Truthfully, I’d rather be housed down in the barracks, tucked into a bunk with a mess hall nearby. But I won’t say no to a feather bed either.
“Dinner will be served in a few minutes’ time,” the servant says before shutting the door behind him, leaving us to our own devices.
I cross to the window and draw aside the curtains to find that we face out over a terrace and up the mountainside, into the pitch-black forest of pine trees. The roar of transports whines in my ears as the memory of climbing up and over the peak rushes through me.
Nanabel looks approvingly at the decor, and especially at the neat, well-stocked bar set along the far wall beneath a gilt-framed mirror. Wasting no time, she sets to pouring herself a heavy dram of caramel-colored whiskey. She takes a drink before preparing three more glasses.
“I’m surprised your friend wasn’t here to greet us,” she says, handing the first glass to Sara and the next to Julian. Her gaze lingers on the latter. “You two exchanged so many letters, I thought he’d at least take the time to say hello.”
My uncle is difficult to bait, and he just smiles into his drink. He takes a seat on the long sofa, folding himself in next to Sara. “Premier Davidson is a busy man. Besides, there will be plenty of time for scholar talk after the gala.”
I turn from the window, brow furrowed. My stomach swoops at the prospect of leaving Julian behind, even for a short while. I reach for the last drink on the bar and sip carefully. It tastes like liquid smoke.
“How long do you intend to stay on here afterward?” I ask, drumming a finger on the crystal glass.
Next to him, Sara shifts and sips her liquor. She’s had her fair share of domineering Silver queens, and doesn’t tremble beneath my grandmother’s imperious stare. “We haven’t decided,” she replies.
Nanabel sniffs, wrinkling her nose. “It’s an odd time to be taking a vacation.”
“I believe the term is honeymoon,” Julian says. With a deliberate motion, he reaches for Sara’s free hand, and their fingers intertwine. “We’d like to be married here, quietly and soon. If that suits everyone.”
If that suits everyone. At first my grandmother scoffs, and then her lips spread into a true smile.
As for me, I feel like my face might split in two. It almost hurts to smile like this, so broadly and without abandon. Happiness hasn’t been familiar to me in the last few months, but it courses through me now. Quickly, I cross the room and hug them both, nearly spilling all our drinks.
“It’s about time,” I snicker in Julian’s ear.
“I agree,” Sara murmurs, her eyes shining.
When dinner comes, it is unsurprisingly marvelous, and another display of the bountiful Free Republic. There’s bison steak, of course, as well as fresh trout, salmon, fried potatoes, three kinds of greens, a cheesy soup, and fresh-baked bread, followed by huckleberries and cream for dessert and a honeysuckle tea. The food must have been brought in from every corner of the Republic, from here in Ascendant to the northwest coast strewn with mountains and a foreign ocean. Everything is perfectly prepared. Certainly the rest of the Nortan delegation have received the same treatment in their rooms, especially the Silver nobles. On the flight they openly complained about the state of their kitchens at home now, what with Reds being free to pursue work where they please, as well as the war shortages. A few good meals in the Republic might be just the kind of convincing they need.