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It was soon after she came to her decision that another knock rattled on the door, and this time she rose from her bed to answer it. She was surprised to find not one of her friends, but an elderly servant standing on the other side.

“Miss Kiva,” he said, bowing slightly, “Her Majesty the Queen apologizes for missing lunch and invites you to enjoy a nightcap with her before turning in for the evening. She specifically told me to mention that she’s ordered hot cocoa, with extra cocoa.”

Kiva’s stomach rumbled so violently that the servant looked at her in alarm, but he only finished, “She’s awaiting you in her personal sitting room and requested that I escort you at your earliest convenience.”

It would have been easy for Kiva to decline the offer. She’d grown close enough to the queen to know there was no pressure on her to attend. That wasn’t what Ariana would evenwant— she’d be one of the first to encourage Kiva to take whatever time she needed to get over the pain of her day.

It was, perhaps, for that very reason that Kiva finger-combed her hair and followed the man from her room. She’d never have admitted it aloud, but while she was hungry and tempted by the hot cocoa, what she wanted more than anything else was a mother’s comfort — even if that mother was Ariana Vallentis.

Not seeing Tipp or anyone else as she left her suite, Kiva walked silently behind her escort, wondering if any of the servants dotting the hallways were rebel spies who would report where she was going and why. But then she decided that she didn’t care. She wouldn’t think about her mission, her family’s cause,anything.Tonight was hers to enjoy, to recover, to heal.

After a quick walk across the golden bridge to the western palace, the queen’s personal chambers came into view, being almost a straight shot over the river from where Kiva had started. Her escort ushered her directly into the room, before backing out and closing the gilded doors behind him.

Kiva paused at the entrance, spinning around to take in the sheer opulence surrounding her.

The queen’s sitting room had high ceilings, lush carpet, and windows that looked out at both the Serin and the gardens, the latter dotted with luminium beacons like fireflies stretching into the distance. An elegant chandelier hung like a collection of teardrops, the walls were mounted with framed artwork, and an assortment of fresh flowers and leafy potted plants brought a dash of color to the otherwise gold-and-white décor. As Kiva continued turning, she saw a crackling fireplace nestled into one wall, the flames warm and inviting, and opposite it was —

Kiva gasped and was unable to resist moving toward the grand piano. She’d never seen anything like it before, the legs, cover, and sides made entirely out of transparent, sparkling crystal.

“’S lovely, isn’t it?”

Kiva was admiring the black and white keys, the only part that was ordinary — and yet still beautiful — when the voice reached her. She whirled around to see the queen reclining on a red velvet chaise, watching her over the rim of a wine goblet.

“Do you play?” Ariana asked, her voice slurring slightly.

“Uh, no,” Kiva answered, looking closely at the queen, and wondering just how much she’d had to drink.

“Jaren used to play all the time,” Ariana said, her gaze turning distant. “He doesn’t now.”

Kiva walked slowly forward, an inner sense warning that something wasn’t quite right. But her trepidation eased when she saw the tray of hot cocoa and an assortment of mini cakes, her insides warming as she noted the effort the queen had gone to.

“He doesn’t?” Kiva asked. The thought of Jaren playing the piano was too beautiful for her poor brain, so she pushed it away before it could take hold. “Why not?”

Ariana took a large gulp of her wine. “He won’t come here anymore.”

The five slurred words had Kiva freezing to the spot — but it wasn’t only them, it was also that she’d moved close enough to note what she hadn’t seen from further away.

Ariana’s glazed eyes, waxy skin, trembling hands ...

... and the golden powder smeared around her mouth, beneath her nose, inside her nostrils.

Angeldust.

The queen was high.

And when the queen was high —

He won’t come here anymore.

Kiva backed away, seeing the glorious room with new eyes.

This was where the queen had hurt Jaren. For years.

This was where she succumbed to her addiction, lost control, inflicted untold amounts of pain.

And Kiva was alone with her, no one but the male servant even knowing she was there.

“Have some cocoa, Kiva,” the queen slurred, elongating Kiva’s name into three syllables. “I had it made ’specially for you.”