I shudder, trying not to think about the battle. With some effort, I push the memory away. “I hardly enjoy wasting my time,” I tell her with a sneer.
She rolls her eyes as only a mother can. “Discussing your own wedding?”
“There’s no discussion to it,” I scoff. “I have no say, so why does it matter if I’m there? Besides, Tolly will tell me everything later. All of Father’s commands,” I add, spitting out the last word like a bad taste.
Mother seems to coil, taut and dangerous. “You act like this is some kind of punishment.”
I raise my chin. All over my body, the steel threads of my gown tighten with my anger. “Isn’t it?”
She reacts like I’ve slapped her and insulted her entire bloodline. “I don’t understand you!” she says, throwing up her hands. “This is what you want, what you’ve worked for your entire life.”
I have to laugh at her blindness. No matter how many eyes my mother sees through, she will never see through mine. My laughter unsettles her at least. I glance at her brow, tracing her braid blooming with gemstones. Let no one say Larentia Viper does not play the part of a queen well. All this for that. “A crown suits you, Mother,” I sigh.
“Don’t change the subject, Eve,” she says, exasperated, as she closes the distance between us. With all the warmth she can muster, she puts both hands to my arms as if to pull me into an embrace. I keep still, rooted. Slowly, her fingers run up and down my arms, rubbing my bare skin. The image is almost maternal, far more than I’m used to. “It’s almost over, darling.”
No, it is not.
Deliberate, I step out of her grasp. The air is warmer than her hands, so cold they could be reptilian. She looks pained by the sudden distance, but holds her own ground. “I’m going to have a bath,” I tell her. “Keep your ears and eyes away from me while I do.”
Mother purses her lips. She makes no promises. “Everything we do is for your own good.”
I turn to go, my dress swishing in my wake as I walk from her. “Keep telling yourself that.”
By the time I get back to my rooms, I feel like breaking something, smashing a vase or a window or a mirror. Glass, not metal. I want to shatter something I cannot put back together. I resist the urge, mostly because I don’t want to clean up the ensuing mess. There are Red servants left in Ocean Hill, but few. Only those who wish to continue their profession, at better compensation, will still serve in the palace here, or in any Silver employ.
I wonder how far the ripples of Cal’s decision will travel. How much will change? Red equality will have far-reaching consequences, and not just for the tidiness of my bedroom.
I step deeper into my chamber, throwing open the windows as I go. Late afternoon in the Bay is a beautiful time, filled with golden light and a fragrant sea breeze. I try to find some comfort in it, but it just makes me angrier. The high keening of the gulls seems to taunt me. I think about skewering one, just for target practice. Instead I throw back the soft blankets of the bed and start to crawl in. A nap is better than a bath. I just want this day to end.
I freeze when my hand slides over paper amid the silk.
The note is short and small, written in tight, looping script. Nothing like Elane’s elegant, ostentatious cursive. I don’t recognize the penmanship, but I don’t have to. Very few people would leave me secret notes, and even fewer could actually get access to my bed. My heartbeat quickens in my chest, breath catching.
We’re right to call the Scarlet Guard rats. I think they might actually live in the walls.
I apologize I could not give you this invitation in person, but the circumstances allow little else. Leave Norta. Leave the Rift. Come to Montfort. Allowances will be made for you, and for Lady Elane. You will be welcome in the mountains, free to be as you wish. Abandon this empty shell of a life. Don’t subject yourself to that fate. The choice is in your own hands, and no one else’s. We ask nothing in return.
I almost crumple Davidson’s note at such naked dishonesty. Nothing in return. My simple presence is a gift in itself. Without me, Cal’s alliance to the Rift will be in jeopardy. His only remaining ally might waver. It’s a way for Davidson and the Scarlet Guard to pull him back into their grasp.
If you agree, order a cup of tea to your room. We’ll take care of the rest.
—D
The words burn, branding themselves into my mind. I stare at them for what feels like hours, but only a few minutes pass.
The choice is in your own hands. Nothing could be further from the truth. Father will chase me to the ends of the earth, no matter who stands in his way. I’m his investment, part of his legacy.
“What will you do?” a familiar voice asks, sweeter than a song.
Elane blooms into existence across the room, silhouetted against a window. Still beautiful, but with none of her glow. The sight makes me ache.
I glance at the note in hand. “There’s nothing I can do,” I mutter. “If . . .” I can’t even say the words aloud, even to her. “It will only make things worse. For me, and for you.”
She doesn’t move, no matter how much I want her to cross the room. Her eyes remain far away, fixed on the city and the ocean. “You really think things aren’t already worse for me?”
Her whisper, fragile and soft, breaks my heart.
“My father would kill you, Elane. He would kill you if he thought—if he knew how tempted we are by this,” I say, tightening my grip on the note.
And what about Tolly? I can’t leave him alone, the only heir to the throne of a small and precariously positioned kingdom. The letters of the note seem to blur and swirl.
I’m crying, I realize with a sick jolt.
Fat tears land on the paper, one by one. The ink bleeds, blue and wet.
“Evangeline, I don’t know how much longer I can live like this.” The admission is small, matter-of-fact. Her face crumples and I have to turn away. Slowly, I rise from the bed and walk past her. Red hair flashes at the edge of my vision. She doesn’t follow me into the bathroom, leaving me to think.
Hands shaking, tears endless, I do as I told my mother I would. I draw myself a bath and sink the note in the water. Letting the words, the offer, and our future drown.
As I lie back into the warmth, I feel sick with myself, with my cowardice, with everything in my rotted life. I dip my head back and submerge myself, letting the bathwater replace any tears still fresh on my cheeks. Underwater, I open my eyes to the strange, rippling world beneath the surface. I exhale slowly, watching the bubbles drift and burst. I decide I can do one thing, and one thing alone, about all of this.
I can keep my mouth shut.
And let Julian and Anabel play their games.
My hair is still wet at dinner, coiled into a neat spiral at the base of my neck. My face is bare too. No makeup, no war paint. No use for any of my usual trappings among family, though Mother doesn’t seem to realize that. She’s dressed for a state dinner, even though it’s just the five of us dining in the grand salon of my father’s chambers. Mother glitters as always, poured into a long-sleeved and high-necked gown of black material that glistens purple and green like oil. Her crown is still there too, woven into her braided hair. Father has no use for a crown of his own right now. He’s intimidating no matter what he does or doesn’t wear. Like Ptolemus, he is simple in unadorned clothing, our silver and black. Elane looks serene next to him, her eyes dry and empty.