Page 7

And did it even matter? I was their queen.

I pushed those thoughts aside and entered my chambers. Violeta and Vesna stopped speaking and stood immediately. I could not help the suspicion that clawed at my stomach with their sudden silence.

“My queen,” they said in unison, dipping into curtsies.

“I have much to attend to today,” I said, crossing to my armoire to choose a dress. I had no intention of languidly preparing for the day. I felt as though that luxury was gone, suitable only for a queen who did not intend to rule.

“Of course,” Violeta said. “Will you not eat first, my queen?”

“No,” I said. Even at the mention of food, my stomach twisted. Everything I had consumed since my father’s death tasted burnt, but I offered no explanation.

I had no doubt that the two were attempting to abide by orders Adrian had given, but little could be done when I refused.

I chose a dress—light blue with gold threading. The neckline was scooped, the skirt, though tulle, was sleek, and the sleeves were long, which would keep me warm enough within the castle walls as the storm moved in.

Once I was changed, I smoothed my hair in the mirror. Normally, Violeta would attempt some sort of braid or twist, but I only needed it tame enough to wear my mother’s pearl tiara. It seemed fitting, on the heels of my father’s betrayal, to honor her memory instead. Though it did not feel sufficient, I had little else. My attachment to her and her people was an ache I felt deep in my bones. It was part of my soul that had fractured at birth and would never heal.

I would always mourn what could have been had my mother survived, had she taught me the ways of her world. I knew even if I managed to free the Nalani, I would always be different—never one of them butother. That was how it was when I had been princess of Lara, and it was the same now as queen of Revekka.

And even if I managed to free them, would I be seen as just another conqueror, or would they see me as one of them?

Violeta brought over my tiara. I’d last worn it the day my kingdom had fallen under Adrian’s rule, the day he had asked to marry me. It was a simple piece, a silver band set with fresh pearls. Of the items left from my mother, this was my favorite. It was the crown she had worn in her wedding portrait.

I now wondered under what circumstances it had been given to her. Was it a gift from her mother and father, offered with understanding that her marriage to my father would mean a peaceful alliance? Or was it one of the few possessions she had managed to bring with her when my father had taken her as a prisoner?

I turned to the mirror and placed the crown on my head, searching my face for my mother’s features, but all that reflected back were my father’s—his deep frown, his hollow cheeks, his troubled brow.

I looked miserable.

I turned from the mirror to find Violeta holding a pair of pearl earrings.

“You should wear these, my queen,” Violeta said.

They had also been my mother’s, and despite how many times I had worn them, seeing them now brought tears to my eyes. I took a deep breath, swallowing the strange wave of emotion that welled in my blood.

“Thank you, Violeta.”

I took the earrings and refused to look in the mirror as I hooked them in place. When a knock sounded at the door, I stiffened, my body tense with frustration.

Violeta and Vesna looked at me.

“We can tell them you are busy,” Vesna said. “It is not untrue.”

It wasn’t, but no matter how quickly I got to my agenda today, the events I had planned would take time to unfold. Besides, what if Ana had come to speak with me? I did not want to miss the chance to see her, especially given that I had much to discuss with her, including her use of magic.

“Answer it,” I said.

Vesna obeyed, and when she opened the door, I recognized the voice on the other side.

I sighed, and before Vesna could announce his presence, I said, “Come in, Killian.”

The commander of Lara’s military—and one of my former lovers—entered my quarters. He was dressed in black—not because he was mourning but because he could not bring himself to wear the blue of Lara, nor the red of Revekka. Despite how my father’s betrayal had hurt him, he was not yet ready to embrace my kingdom even though he had fought at my side against Gesalac and the crimson mist.

“My queen,” he said and bowed.

“You shaved,” I said, surprised to see that his long beard was trimmed close to his skin. He had not shaved since he had started growing facial hair. I had never cared for his beard, but I thought that perhaps he kept it because his father had kept one too. I wondered if this was his way of distancing himself from the loyalty he had to King Henri.

“Y-yes,” he said and ran a hand over the back of his head. “I hoped for a moment of your time today.”