“To Ascendant, then?” I ask, hoping to get out of the settling cold. And get Cal closer to all the distraction this place can give. As Anabel has already claimed Cal, I offer my arm to Davidson instead. He takes it with a slight bow, his hand featherlight on my wrist.
“This way, Your Highness,” he replies.
I’m surprised to find that the touch of a newblood is not as revolting as the touch of my betrothed. He sets a good pace, leading us away from the jets and onto the paths leading into Ascendant.
The city is set high on the eastern edge of the massive mountain range, looking over the lower peaks and out over the borders. Prairie fades on the horizon, its edges known as raider country, where roving bands of Silvers aligned to no nation prey upon all who cross. The rest is empty plain, marred only by the cratered remains of what was once a city, long ago. I do not know its name.
Ascendant seems born of the mountains themselves, built upon slopes and into valleys, arching over gushing streams and the larger river picking its way back east through winding canyons. The few roads tunnel, and transports weave in and out of sight. There must be more beneath the surface, carved into the rock hearts of these mountains.
Most of the Ascendant city buildings are quarried stone—granite, marble, and rock quartz—cut and sculpted into impossibly smooth slabs of white and gray. Pine trees, some taller than spires, sprout up between buildings, their needles the same dark green as Montfort’s flag. The sunset and the mountains wash the city in alternating stripes of deep pink and darkening purple, light and shadow. Above us, marching into the western distance, snowy peaks stand triumphant beneath a sky that seems too big and too close. A few early stars pinprick the dusk. They are familiar, forming patterns I know.
I have never seen a city like this, and it worries me. I do not like surprises, nor do I like to be impressed. It means something is better than me, or my blood, or my homeland.
But Ascendant, Montfort, Davidson, they’ve done it.
I can’t help but be awed by this strange, beautiful place.
It’s less than a mile to the city, but the many steps make it seem longer. I think the premier wants to show off, so rather than stuff us all into transports, he forces us to walk and see the city fully.
If I were back in the court of a Calore king with some other noble on my arm, I wouldn’t bother making conversation. The presence of House Samos is well reputed. But here? I have to prove myself. I sigh, grit my teeth, and look to Davidson at my side.
“I understand you were elected to your position.” The word is foreign to me, rolling around my mouth like a smooth stone.
Davidson can’t help but chuckle, a small crack in his inscrutable mask. “Yes, indeed. Two years ago. The nation voted. And on the third year, next spring, we do so again.”
“Who voted, precisely?”
His mouth tightens. “All kinds, if that’s what you mean. Red, Silver, Ardent. A ballot is color-blind.”
“So you do have Silvers here.” They said as much before, but I doubted any Silver would condescend to a life alongside any Red, let alone to be ruled by one. Even a newblood. Still, it puzzles me. Why live here as an equal when they could live elsewhere as a god?
Davidson dips his chin. “We have many.”
“And they just allow this?” I scoff, not bothering to hold my tongue. I only do that around my parents, and they aren’t here, having thrown me to these red-blooded wolves.
“Allow our equal existence, you mean.” The premier’s voice takes on a sharper edge, hissing through the mountain air.
His eyes bore into mine, gold into charcoal gray. We continue walking, both of us sure over the many steps. He wants me to apologize. I do not.
Finally we reach a landing, a marble terrace overlooking a wide garden in full bloom. Unfamiliar flowers, purple and orange and pale blue, spiral out before us, wild and fragrant. Some yards ahead, Mare Barrow and her family pick their way through the garden, led by their own Montfort escorts. One of her brothers stoops to inspect the flowers more closely.
While the rest of our group takes in the expanse of the garden, Davidson draws closer to me, his lips almost brushing my ear. I resist the urge to slice him in two.
“Forgive me for my bluntness, Princess Evangeline,” he whispers, “but you have a female lover, don’t you? And you are forbidden to marry her.”
I swear, I’m going to cut the tongues from the mouths of everyone here. Is no secret sacred?
“I don’t know what you mean,” I growl through a clenched jaw.
“Of course you do. She’s married to your brother. Part of an arrangement, yes?”
My hands tighten around a stone railing. The cool smoothness does nothing to sooth me. I dig in my fingers, and the sharp, jeweled points of my decorative claws scratch deep. Davidson keeps on, his words a tumult, low and fast and impossible to ignore.
“If all were as you wished, if you were not a bargaining chip in a crown, and she were not wed, could you marry her? Under the best of circumstances, would the Silvers of Norta allow what you desire?”
I turn to him, teeth bared. The premier is far too close. He doesn’t flinch, or step back. I can see the tiny imperfections in his skin. Wrinkles, scars, even pores. I could claw his eyes right out of his head if I wanted to.
“Marriage has nothing to do with desire,” I snap. “Marriage is for heirs and nothing else.”
For reasons I can’t fathom, his golden eyes soften. I see pity. I see regret. I hate it. “So you are denied what you want because of what you are. A choice you never made, a piece of yourself you cannot change—and do not want to change.”
“I—”
“Look down on my country all you want,” he murmurs, and I see a shadow of the temper he works to keep hidden. “Question the way things are. Perhaps the answers will be to your liking.” Then he steps back a little, returning to the picture of a politician. An ordinary man of ordinary charm. “Of course, I hope you enjoy our dinner this evening. My husband, Carmadon, has been busy enough preparing for you all.”
What? I can only blink. Of course not. I misheard. My cheeks flush with heat, turning gray with shame. I can’t deny that my heart leapt in my chest, a burst of adrenaline coursing through me only to die in a heartbeat. It’s no use wishing for impossible things.
But the premier moves his head, the slightest nod.
I didn’t mishear and he didn’t misspeak.
“Another small thing we allow here in Montfort, Princess Evangeline.”
He drops my arm without ceremony, quickening his pace to put some distance between us. I feel my heart hammer in my chest. Is he lying? Is what he said even possible? To my bewilderment, sharp tears prick at my eyes and my chest tightens.
“Diplomacy was never your strong suit.”
Cal glowers at my shoulder, his grandmother hanging back to whisper with one of the Iral lords.
I turn my head, hiding for a moment in a curtain of silver hair. Just long enough to regain some semblance of control. Luckily he’s decidedly occupied with staring after Mare, tracking her movements with pitiful longing.
“Then why did you pick me?” I finally sneer back at him, hoping he feels every ounce of my rage and pain. “Why make someone like me a queen when all I’ll be is a thorn in your side?”