Page 31 of House of the Beast

Instead, the page was filled with information about something called a “television.” Sevelie was clearly very taken with it, this box that showed images like a Heavenseer’s magecraft visions.

My brow furrowed, and not just from the strain of reading in such dim lighting.

I flipped a few pages, wondering if I had instead picked up a book belonging to someone else—but no, that was Sevelie, signing off at the end of an entry.

I flipped back to where I had been. She likened this magic box to the radio .

The word was familiar, and it rattled in my thoughts like a hook until it dredged up another memory, so old and nearly forgotten it made me gasp.

My mother had mentioned this contraption once.

An invention from Coltrand, west of Kugara where there were no gods.

She’d been as enamored then as Sevelie sounded in these entries, her eyes alight as she told me about these miracles that everyone could hear, not just those who were chosen or devoted.

When I asked my mother if I could see the radio for myself, she had said sadly, “They simply don’t work here, with the Four around.”

It wasn’t until later that I understood: Kugara did not like to speak of things beyond the power of its gods. Much like with my mother’s medicine, this radio was a slight to our own nation’s way of life. Something that didn’t belong within its borders.

“Your pulse is racing,” murmured Aster by my ear.

I did not know how to parse everything I was feeling, let alone describe it.

So I settled for admitting, “I’m surprised.

I didn’t think she’d be interested in all this.

” My eyes skimmed the words, looking for anything else that might tell me more about this memory I had half-forgotten—until my gaze caught on my father’s name on the next page.

Frowning, I began to read.

I told Lord Zander about the newest items from the merchants in Coltrand and Ruvene—and how none of them worked, of course, but oh, sometimes I wish they did.

They could provide so much for the common people.

When I say this to my father, he only responds that these things have no place in the land of the divine.

But Lord Zander understands that Kugara is too steeped in its old ways.

He agrees that there must be change; I imagine he has been snubbed too many times by an order too archaic.

I think he truly means to bring about something new.

With him, I do not feel so foolish for dreaming of a world where women like me aren’t restricted to becoming House Avera’s future breeding sows .

“Quite the strong opinion,” commented Aster.

“I didn’t think she’d feel this way about her station,” I said, frowning down at the pages. She played the lady so perfectly; I had thought that was all there was to her.

“What do you think your father said to her?”

“Things she probably wanted to hear. I doubt he actually believes in the virtues of this television .” But the thought of them discussing these things together made me scowl.

I wondered if my mother had been the same—seduced by his false promises, taken in by his lies.

She, too, had dreamed of a better life. But it was almost impossible to imagine my father actually sharing this dream.

He had probably convinced himself that his coming into power was an automatic improvement to the system and built his false enticements off that.

Aster chuckled. “If anyone’s going to change Kugara for the better, it would be you,” he proclaimed fondly.

“I don’t understand why she doesn’t see through his horseshit,” I said under my breath. “She clearly knows better, but—”

“What are you doing?”

I did not jump, but it was a near thing. I had been so engrossed in the journal that I did not notice someone joining us. When I looked up, Sevelie was standing in the doorway of her room, still in a dressing gown, looking at me with cold accusation in her eyes.

“Snooping,” I replied blandly, knowing there was no talking my way out of this situation.

She must have heard me talking to Aster.

I was thankful for the weak light so that she wouldn’t see the red in my face from getting caught.

Fair was fair, I reminded myself—she had brought me here to spy on me, and now I was simply doing the same in return.

Her eyes widened as she saw what I held in my hands. Quickly she crossed the room and snatched her journal away, holding it protectively behind her.

“Haven’t you been taught to respect people’s privacy?” she snapped.

I snorted. “You invited me into your home to keep an eye on me. It seemed prudent to repay the favor.”

“By breaking into someone’s locked rooms?”

I glanced at Aster. Locked, huh? He just shrugged, pleased at his own tricks.

“I didn’t realize it was locked,” I said, trying not to make it sound like an excuse.

I half-expected Sevelie to kick me out of her home on the spot for breaching whatever little trust she had in me.

She glared—but there was something other than anger in it.

Her shoulders were drawn tight, and her hands seemed to be shaking.

She was worried, I realized. If I told anyone her opinions on Kugara’s court and its workings, it would look very bad for her indeed.

I had found an advantage over her. This was blackmail.

Exasperated, I looked to Aster, who stuck his tongue out a little, full of cheek and completely lacking in remorse now that he knew I understood what he’d been planning.

“I told you this was going to be useful,” he said.

Indeed, I now had a defense against anything Sevelie might have planned. Sevelie seemed to realize her precarious situation as well. Instead of giving me a piece of her mind, which I could tell she was itching to do, all she did was send me a tight-lipped look.

“Next time you want to know something, just ask,” she said. “Maybe I’ll even answer. Now please, get out of my study.”

SEVELIE PRETENDED I DIDN’T EXIST DURING brEAKFAST AND all through the rest of the day—at least until it was time to prepare for the banquet, at which point she sent two maids to my room to help with my hair.

Though I thankfully was only required to wear my House Avera coat instead of an evening dress, the maids seemed to view this as a challenge to overcome.

One of them dragged my hair through hot irons as if it had wronged her and she was teaching it a lesson; the other brushed powders and paints around my eyes until I was certain one would be gouged out.

When they finally finished, my features were pleasantly highlighted in my normally sallow face, and my hair sat in purposeful waves instead of its usual mess.

Aster cooed and exclaimed and made a nuisance of himself all the way until it was time to leave, upon which I shooed him away, not wanting to put up with his antics in the carriage ride over.

I supposed, even when she was furious, Sevelie could not abide her own guest turning up at an important social event looking anything less than perfect.

She kept up the stony silence even when we both boarded the carriage that would take us to the court’s banquet hall.

For the first few minutes of the ride there was no conversation, no sound apart from the clopping of the horse’s hooves outside and the rattle of the carriage wheels.

I almost missed her incessant questioning.

Though I had convinced myself that I had done what was needed to secure my own position, seeing her wound so tight, all of her graceful ease gone, conjured a nauseating weight in my gut that only became heavier the longer the silence went on.

I felt like I should say something. An apology of sorts. Though Aster had reminded me several times during the day, “You’ve ensured that she can’t take advantage of you. It was the right move.”

I had known he would not express any sympathy for her.

His primary concern was, as always, to make sure I had the upper hand.

It was a sentiment that usually warmed my heart, but here it was soured by the distinct feeling that I had done something wrong.

The musings in Sevelie’s journal churned around in my head nonstop.

She wasn’t the kind of person I’d assumed.

Her words had brought back so many memories—of my mother, and how she had once tried so hard to make me friends.

And now I had ruined any small possibility of that happening.

It was a thought that would not leave my mind once it had taken root.

If my mother were here, she would want me to apologize.

I tried to shoo that urge away, but it would not leave, and eventually I decided: I had the ceremony of initiation ahead of me.

While it was a simple task, I did not need this incident clouding my conscience during it.

I found myself blurting into the tense air between us, “Thank you for sending your maids to help with my hair.”

Sevelie looked at me, startled. Obviously, she had not been expecting me to say anything.

After taking a moment to gather herself and replace the surprise in her expression with cool detachment, she said, “Well, we couldn’t have you showing up to the banquet looking like you’d already been inside the umbral gate.”

I scowled. “I was trying to say something nice.”

“You can start with ‘sorry.’”

It had been what I meant to do, but somehow, having her point it out only made me feel ornery and disagreeable. “You were the one who brought me into your home for the sole purpose of keeping me under surveillance,” I bit back.

“And I made my intentions clear. I haven’t broken into your private possessions, have I?

But you know what? Fine. I’ll start.” Her mouth went into a thin line.

Then, to my great surprise, she said, “I’m sorry, Alma, for inviting you into my home with less than honorable intentions.

I assumed the worst of you immediately, and that was rude. ”