Page 23 of A Taste For Lies (The Apex Kingdom #1)

Chapter 23

ALORA

B y the time I collapse into my bed, there’s barely an hour left before dawn will light the sky. Once again, I’m awakened far too soon by a very elegantly attired, very angry royal.

Maeve’s emerald eyes, set off by her Veridian royal green gown, are flashing with annoyance. Her brilliant red hair is arranged in an intricate updo.

“Why aren’t you ready?” she snaps in my face, then whirls around and faces an anxious Mei, who must have let her into the suite. “Why isn’t she ready?” Maeve demands.

Suvi peeks around the Elite, a concerned expression on her face, and it hits me—the queen’s tea. I whip my head to the picturesque windows, the shades flung wide, and oh, no. The sun has risen much higher than I expected.

I fling myself out of bed like it’s on fire.

Suvi springs into action, bustling me towards the bathing room. My nightgown hits the floor as she ushers me into jasmine-scented bath water in record time.

She’s already tugging my hair out of its messy braid when Maeve sweeps into the room, her eyes thin. “Start scrubbing,” she commands, tossing a washcloth that smacks me in the face. I don’t argue. Maeve looks ready to throw me in boiling water herself if I don’t move fast enough. I scrub with alacrity, water sloshing around me as Suvi pushes some kind of powder into my hair.

At least the sharp pain from last night has lessened to its former dull ache. Suvi starts to arrange my long hair in a braided coronet while I’m still cleaning myself.

Maeve watches on, as though each second I waste costs her years off her life. If she wasn’t so enraged, I would laugh at the absurdity of this moment.

Suvi’s barely finished before they’re pulling me out of the bath and shoving me into a dress colored the same as Maeve’s. “Sit,” Maeve barks, forcibly pushing me into the vanity chair. She slaps matching slippers into my hand. I carefully slide them on as Suvi dabs light makeup on my face, smoothing over the freckles that pepper my nose.

Maeve taps one slippered foot, her mouth tight, but despite her obvious impatience, she never once takes it out on the lady’s maid. Instead, she waits—barely—for Suvi to be the one to pronounce me “ready” before she physically grabs my arm and drags me to the door.

The whole ordeal could not have taken longer than five minutes.

I throw a sincere “thank you” over my shoulder to Suvi, who only purses her lips in response. Mei is waiting for us in the hallway, dressed in her guardian’s uniform. Someone, somehow, has found the time to get it tailored to her body overnight. Her ebony hair is pulled back into a smart ponytail, and I notice she’s been given sturdy black boots like Astrid wears.

“You look nice,” I murmur softly to Mei as she drops into step with Astrid behind us. Maeve has taken my arm in an outward show of friendship that in actuality services her need to drag me along at top speed.

Maeve sends me an arch look. “I don’t know how you thought it would be alright for your Apex to show up to the queen’s tea looking like she was wearing some novice’s castoffs.”

“Thank you, Maeve.” My gratitude to her is no less heartfelt than the one I just gave Suvi. She sniffs in response but almost imperceptibly slows her pace so that Mei and I maybe have a slight chance of keeping up .

“Where is the tea?”

“In the queen’s own suite. It’s an incredible honor to be invited to join her.”

“Anything I should know?” My question is soft, under my breath. Meant only for Maeve. And Mei, I suppose, with her Apex hearing.

Maeve nods in greeting to a couple of courtiers we pass, unsmiling. She’s got her “above-it-all” mask firmly in place.

“She’s bored and she wants to try and wring some gossip out of you. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and try to absorb everything you can,” she instructs me, non sotto.

Very well, then. Rule Number Eight it is. Stay silent and observe.

I can tell the precise moment we enter the queen’s wing. Pink rose bushes line the walls, manicured into matching spheres, each one perched in pristine white ceramic pots—exactly like the ones framing the queen’s blanket at the garden party. The overwhelming sweetness of their scent is cloying in the enclosed hallway.

A footman in royal Veridian colors stands at attention outside a set of grand double doors, which must lead to the queen’s suite. At our approach, he swings them open wide and announces our arrival with a formal, “Ladies Ashbourne and Thorne, Your Majesty.”

“Finally!” The queen claps.

Maeve and I drop into low curtsies, our eyes on the ground. I sense Mei and Astrid folding over into matching bows behind us.

“Rise,” she commands.

I lift my head, taking in a sitting room large and grand enough to be a ballroom. The back wall, as with the rest of the palace, is lined with enormous windows, framing a view of the shimmering ocean. Glass doors lead to a balcony decorated—naturally—with more of those pink rose bushes. The room itself is a blinding mix of white and gold with multiple chandeliers, seating arrangements, and even a pianoforte.

Queen Nyxley sits in a wide white armchair at the head of a low table, a fizzing pink drink held carelessly in one hand. Her gown is the palest shade of green. Her strawberry blonde hair sparkles with pink sapphires the size of plums intermixed with diamonds. Her makeup makes the most of her delicate face and light moss-colored eyes. Her ladies, in various shades of sage, are arranged on white benches on either side of her and also seem to be eagerly partaking of the rose bubbly drink. Even the tiny cakes in tiered trays on the table are iced in green, white, and pink.

The queen gestures to the open white loveseat at the foot of the low table. Maeve quickly sits, pulling me down beside her. Astrid and Mei start to slide back and join the other guardians against the wall; the queen stops them with a raised hand. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a guardian that size before. Come closer.”

Mei steps forward hesitantly as the queen polishes off the rest of her drink. Before she can even gesture to the servant behind her, the glass is refreshed. “Turn around. Let me get a look at you.”

Mei rotates in place. I clench my fingers in the fabric of my skirts.

“Shanterran as well…” After a pause, she waves dismissively in Mei’s direction. I catch the Apex’s relieved face as she hurries back to stand beside Astrid.

Maeve brings a delicate teacup to her lips, unruffled as ever. “Lady Thorne’s grandfather was an ambassador to Shanterra. He was given her Apex as a gift during his travels.”

“And what gift does your Apex have?” The queen’s question barely manages to contain her ravenous curiosity, and it may as well be a command. No doubt, my diminutive guardian has been the subject of much speculation in court, and she’s fishing for gossip.

I hesitate, unsure which lie is the right one to tell. Taran’s warning echoes in my mind. Don’t ever tell my father that Mei can taste lies.

I don’t yet understand the relationship between the scheming king and his flighty young queen, but I can guess which lie Taran would want me to share right now.

“She’s a poison catcher,” I blurt out.

The queen leans back, clearly disappointed. It’s still a rare gift, to be sure, but not an especially exciting one for the gossip mill .

“You remember Lady Song, of course,” Maeve interjects suddenly.

The queen visibly perks up at the name. “Yes…that mysterious illness…such a tragedy.”

Maeve nods meaningfully. The queen’s ladies trade sly smiles.

“I heard Lady Song was much admired by the bea—by the prince,” the queen remarks. Whoever this Lady Song was, her name alone has turned the mood of the queen, and thus the room, completely around.

“My cousin has confided in me his fear that Lady Song’s death could have been foul play,” Maeve whispers theatrically.

The queen’s small close-lipped smile is one of vindication. This — this is the intrigue she was hoping for by inviting us to her gathering today. I don’t know how Maeve knew to play into it but I’m learning that she’s never one to miss a volley.

“Who could have been behind it?” one of the ladies, a petite raven-haired beauty, asks breathlessly.

This is the question the queen was waiting for. “We all know who can’t seem to leave my stepson alone, even after his…condition…became apparent.” Her every word drips with disdain. Is she implying that Victoria poisoned some other courtier just because Taran admired her?

“Oh, Your Majesty, you can’t mean…?” Maeve acts the part of stunned courtier to perfection, a pale, manicured hand flying to her breast.

“Oh, but I do,” she declares. “Simon is beside himself. With the king’s favor, Lady Winters could make an elegant match, and instead, she clings to the past.”

“Is it true the beas—um, Prince Nyxley—took you to see the lilies in the garden to allay your homesickness?” This from a starry-eyed lady with burnished brown skin and thick black hair braided into a complicated weave down her back. Now that we’re closer, I realize all the queen’s ladies are equally as stunning and young as their mistress. With the roses all around and their gowns the color of growing things, they’re like a garden of exquisite flowers themselves .

“His Highness knew I’m partial to lilies from my grandfather’s time in Shanterra and wanted to show me the ones you had in your garden, yes.” I’m loath to repeat the lie that went down so poorly yesterday, but when all the handmaidens sigh dreamily in response, my shoulders dip. It seems Lady Winters is not the only woman at court keen to overlook the prince’s “ condition. ”

The queen gives them a quelling glare. “My ladies are prone to romantic fantasies.” Frowning, she turns her attention to me. “I do hope you aren’t making the same mistake, Lady Thorne.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Respectfully, I came to court to find an Elite man. Not a—” I cut off abruptly, but my meaning is clear. Maeve tenses at my side, but the queen smiles, mollified.

“Splendid, my dear. Though it does seem you may have turned the bea—my stepson’s head.” Her gaze travels over Mei, standing resolute in the corner with the other Apex. “Careful how you tread. Especially in Lady Winters’ company.”

Maeve pats my knee consolingly. “Never fear, Lady Thorne. Your Apex guardian’s gift will serve you well in this particular game.” Considering my so-called guardian is more qualified to serenade us on that pianoforte over there than protect me from Lady Winters’ misplaced vengeance, my answering smile is brittle.

“Your Majesty,” Maeve simpers, “could you tell Lady Thorne the tale of how you won King Nyxley’s affection? I believe it may serve as powerful guidance to her as she seeks her own match.”

“Oh!” I gasp as if positively enraptured with the idea. “I would be so honored if you would deign to share, Your Majesty.”

The ladies add their cajoling to the chorus until the queen really has no choice but to oblige us.

“I had only recently come to court,” she begins, preening at being the center of attention. “After the death of the king’s first wife, you understand.” We all make sympathetic noises .

“His Majesty was positively distraught, of course. To have his queen taken from us by that brutal animal!” She sniffs. “And so soon after his own son was revealed to be one of them.” The handmaidens are following this tale like it’s a riveting play and at this dramatic plot turn, they all gasp. Hidden beneath the folds of my skirt, I let my nails bite into my palm.

“His Majesty told me that no one else understood his grief at that time. But I, who had lost my own mother to a feral Apex, knew his pain like it was my own.” She places her hand on her chest, her kohl-darkened eyelashes dipping, fluttering over her rose-tinted cheeks.

Even here, in her own sitting room, surrounded by sycophants practically sighing on cue, she’s ever performing.

“You all but saved the nation!” Maeve declares. “Why, who knows what might have happened to Veridia had the king remained lost in his grief. Instead, you gave him—and all our citizenry—hope again by delivering us a new crown prince.”

The queen waves, feigning modesty, though her cheeks are pink with pleasure. And the drinks. “It was only my duty as a loyal citizen of Veridia. It’s hardly as if the beast prince could sit the throne after what happened.”

“What happened?” I can’t stop the words coming out of my mouth.

The queen looks stricken. If she hadn’t been downing fizzy cocktails all morning, she likely wouldn’t have slipped. “Well…after he emerged, of course.” An unconvincing laugh. “Elias would never stand an Apex on the throne.”

“Nor would we!” Maeve always seems to sense exactly when the queen needs her support and be poised to supply it. “After both you and the king lost so much to their savagery.”

The young queen nods enthusiastically, visibly cheered. “Exactly. It really is a generosity, our care of those animals. They would all be howling at the moon without the Elite to keep them in line!” Her ladies laugh, and Maeve summons a tight smile. The best I can do is hold my neutral expression.

Never having known one personally, I haven’t given much thought to Apex before. To me, they were just another obstacle to work around during a heist. As someone who was constantly considered an “other” due to my Veridian heritage, I never used or enjoyed hearing the slurs rolling so easily off the queen’s tongue. But I did always accept the essential premise of Valenraenian law that with their superhuman healing, strength and powers, Apex are too dangerous to the populace to be left to their own devices.

And yes, Taran is still intimidating, and Astrid makes my heart rate tick up every time she so much as catches my eye, but the more I get to know the Apex as people, the less fair it feels that they are pushed under the thumb of the Elite, whose only power comes from born privilege.

I shift in my seat as I consider something else. My own parents may have been Apex—or at least one of them. Taran’s words from the library play over in my head: My mother told me that Apex inner creatures emerge when we’re ready to live in harmony with them. Told in that way, it sounds like a beautiful gift rather than something to be feared or corralled. Close to divine, as Eleni said.

The queen is speaking freely, spouting her venom, in front of her own Apex, standing stiffly around the room, intermixed with the potted plants. Thinking their greatest use is guarding her Elite person inside the safety of the palace walls.

Rule Number Ten: Maintain control.

I drop my gaze, fingers trembling as I pluck a tiny cake and set it in front of me. The queen is continuing her bigoted rant, lost in her cups and the fawning attention of her ladies. I mentally stuff my emotions into a tight metal box and slam the lid shut.

The rest of the tea passes uneventfully. Maeve and I don’t take a sip, while the queen and her ladies grow more boisterous and inebriated by the hour. Finally, when one of the women has passed out on her fellow’s shoulder, snoring lightly, the queen announces she has an engagement to attend to and waves us out the door.

We pass through the hallway, thick with the cloying scent of roses, in silence. Blessedly, Maeve heads straight back to our rooms, and I do nothing to gainsay her. Maeve sweeps into her rooms, and I follow right behind. Then turn to shut the door—and close it firmly in Mei’s—and unfortunately also Astrid’s—faces.

Maeve’s eyebrows arch. “What?” She sweeps into her vanity chair and begins to pull off her heavy jewelry.

Since this is my first time in her chambers, I let my gaze wander. Her suite is of a similar size and setup to mine—a main sitting room with large windows looking out onto lush greenery plus doorways to the bathing room and presumably Astrid’s small room.

But just as the queen’s wing reflects her style, Maeve’s room bears her own signature. The colors are soothing, the textiles a blend of neutrals and off-white. The pleasant scent of dried lavender relaxes me.

“I wanted to apologize again. For making us late.”

Maeve sighs. “I know it wasn’t really your fault. Taran kept you out too late. He’s completely obtuse when it comes to court politics and single-minded about finding the amulet.”

“Thankfully, you have that particular expertise in spades. You were really good in there.”

As usual, Maeve waves off the compliment. “Queen Delilah is easily handled by anyone with half a brain for politics.”

“Who’s Lady Song?” I keep my voice as neutral as I’m able, but Maeve still shudders at the name.

“An Elite courtier. From Shanterra.” I gathered that much from the lady’s surname, but Maeve goes on without my needing to prod her. “It was a couple of years ago…Taran and Jia were just friends, but Victoria—” She uses the Shanterran pronunciation of the name, Chyah .

“You know Mei can’t actually sense poison, right?” My voice has gone high and panicky.

“Calm down,” Maeve reassures me. “It’s never been confirmed that Jia’s death was from poisoning or that it was Victoria who did it. And even if it was, she would never be so stupid as to use the same method twice.”

Never in the history of calm down has anyone ever calmed down by being told to calm down. “You’re sure about that? ”

She gives me a level look. “The story the queen told is true. About how she met the king. What she didn’t tell you is that her father and Victoria’s houses are rivals for the king’s favor. The queen’s father, Lord Aquilon, runs the territory that includes the coastline and has access to the sea trade. Very profitable, though less so recently with the Thalassarian pirates making a nuisance of themselves. Victoria’s father, Lord Winters, has been close to the king since childhood and his province holds all of Veridia’s mines. Also very profitable. That’s why Queen Delilah drapes herself in precious gems.” She waves dismissively. “Overcompensating. When Tare’s mother passed, all the lords in favor immediately sent for their daughters of marriageable age. They were ravenous to attach their respective families to the throne. Queen Kora wasn’t from a prominent house.” Maeve’s eyes shadow. “They say it was a true love match.”

“A love match ?” I can’t contain my incredulity. “With King Nyxley ?”

Maeve finishes divesting herself of her jewels and peers up at me. “The queen's past personal experience with Apex gone feral, her hideous prejudice…it appealed to the king. They were quickly married, and later, Queen Delilah with child. On Prince Leo’s name day, he was immediately designated heir and betrothed to the child of one of Lord Aquilon’s Thalassarian allies. Lord Winters was furious. The Aquilon family was now properly ensconced within the royal family and the line of succession.”

“Which leaves the beast prince,” I say, understanding finally dawning.

“Don’t call him that. Taran still has a strong claim to the throne upon King Nyxley’s death, plus the military supports him.” She shrugs one delicate shoulder. “Why do you think my uncle and his queen are so eager to fan the flame of hatred for Apex in this country? They want to ensure the people will never accept an Apex on the throne.”

“But would the Elite? Lord Winters?”

“I mean, I’m sure he wouldn’t want to. Of course he’d prefer Taran were human or that Victoria would shift her focus to a real match.”

I almost feel sorry for Lady Winters caught up in this political game of crowns and matches and broken hearts. Almost, but not quite .

“But then why allow Taran to command the armies at all? For that matter, why don’t they just strip him of his Elite status?”

Maeve is smirking at me, and I’m not sure why until I realize what I just said. The prince’s given name. I frown, crossing my arms over my chest.

She takes pity on me and lets the slip go past. “It’s a thorny path for Their Majesties. The king still relies on Tare’s Apex power and military sway to intimidate Veridia’s enemies and its allies. And although he is an Apex, his mother was beloved. He grew up in the public eye; the citizens thought he would be their king. Taran keeps playing along, acting the part of a dutiful son. The king can’t risk engendering sympathy towards the Apex by casting him out, or arranging an ‘accident.’” Maeve doesn’t mention family ties as a reason to not want his son dead, and indeed, I can’t imagine that’s really the king’s main concern.

“If he wasn’t so horribly prejudiced, Lord Winters would give in to Victoria, ask the king to make an exception and reinstate the betrothal so he could wrest power from the Aquilons. But apparently, even Lord Winters’ ambition ends when it means his only daughter would have to marry an Apex.” She shakes her head. “Maybe he still would if he thought Taran would be willing to work with them. But lucky for him, Tare can’t stand Victoria. Not least because of what she allegedly did to Jia.”

He should still consider the match. At least to myself, I can admit that Lord Winters would make a powerful ally. I picture Taran and Victoria together—light and dark—two powerful Elite, assured of their place in this world.

My mouth drops into a deep frown.

“The queen’s ball is tomorrow night.” Maeve’s voice interrupts my dark musings. “You said your tailor would be making your dress?”

Shit. “I have to get word to her. She’s supposed to bring the dress to the palace and take the rest of the payment back to the guild.”

She scoffs. “What are we paying for again? A tiny Apex who only creates more gossip? ”

“You’re paying them for their silence,” I reply evenly. I shut my eyes, thinking. “I’ll send a message with Mei.”

“You’re sure she can make a gown that quickly?”

No. “Of course I’m sure.”

But when I head back to my room, there’s no trace of Mei. Maeve’s response when I rush back to her room is a heavy sigh. “She must be training with the other Apex.”

I bite my lip, picturing tiny Mei sparring with Astrid. Poor girl. “Do I really need to attend this ball?” It would be the perfect distraction while I lift the records from Lord Winters.

Maeve sends me an incredulous look. “We just sat through the queen regaling you with every minute detail of the event planning. You told her that attending her balls is the sole reason you’re at court.”

Right. I was so distracted by the disgusting Apex rant and the new emotions it stirred up that I had a hard time listening to the rest of the queen’s monologue. Xinlei would be incredibly disappointed in me.

There might still be a way to bend this to the mission’s advantage. “I need to talk to Taran. Would he be at the training as well?”

“They’ll all be there, but—”

I cock my head. “But what?”

“They’re Apex ,” she emphasizes. “What’s your excuse for being there?”

“Where do they train?”

“The yard, obviously,” she snaps, then pauses, a calculating look entering her emerald eyes. “It’s just on the other side of the gardens.”

My mouth curves. “Fancy a promenade?”