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M areleau blinked several times as if that could help her make sense of the words that just left Uncle Ulrich’s mouth.

“My cousin,” Mareleau said.

Ulrich nodded, not bothering to look at her from his seat opposite her in the coach they rode in.

“Lurel.”

Another nod.

“She’s…dead.”

“A tumble down the stairs, the letter says. Just a few days ago,” he said, tone distracted. His attention was consumed by the letter in question, although not by the subject matter Mareleau expected. While she continued to reel over the upsetting news, her uncle was already mumbling his approval that the council meeting would commence upon their arrival at the castle that afternoon as planned.

Mareleau blinked at him again, willing his countenance to reflect her internal unrest. But no, he remained unflustered, his grin stretching above his clean-shaven double chin, his gray eyes free of sorrow. Surely he should do more than say a tumble down the stairs before moving on. The girl was his niece, after all.

“My condolences,” Breah said. She was the only other person in the coach with them, as Mareleau’s other two lady’s maids were riding separately. Mareleau turned a furrowed brow to the girl beside her, trying to determine if she too was reeling despite her simple words. Breah had served alongside Lurel. Even though she’d shown a stronger preference for Ann and Sera, she must feel the way Mareleau did. She must feel…

Well, how did Mareleau feel? Shocked, she supposed. Lurel was younger than she was. She’d been perfectly fine and healthy when last they’d spoken. Which was, of course, when Mareleau had informed her that she’d selected the girl to serve Princess Aveline. Mareleau’s decision had been an easy one. Of all her maids, it pained her the least to part with Lurel.

But now it struck her that she’d had an indirect hand in Lurel’s fate. Much as had been the case with Prince Helios’ death. She hadn’t felt as sorry as she should have that her Heart’s Hunt had gotten one of her champions killed. There was little that could fluster her. Little that could shake her composure. She’d experienced her share of grief, of life’s unfairness. But this was the closest Mareleau had ever come to feeling death’s touch.

Lurel, her irritating, naive, endlessly prattling cousin…was dead. And Mareleau, the ever-unshakable, ever-scheming, ever-resilient newly crowned queen, felt smaller and weaker than she ever had before. What was this horrible feeling? Guilt? Grief? It felt almost as bad as when she’d broken Larylis’ heart with her lie.

Her hand went to the nape of her neck, seeking loose strands of hair. She was desperate to move her fingers, to wind them through a braid like she often found herself mindlessly doing, but her silver tresses were pinned in a coronet.

“Stop touching your hair,” Ulrich snapped, glancing up from the letter and tucking it into his waistcoat pocket.

She dropped her hands to her lap. Heat rose to her cheeks at having been chastised by her uncle. At least I have hair to touch , she wanted to say. His dark tresses, cropped just below his ears, looked more like an upside-down bowl that did his dour face no favors.

“Lurel was Princess Aveline’s lady’s maid,” he said. “Now that she is once again without a proper attendant, you might loan her another one of yours.”

Panic constricted Mareleau’s chest. She had to choose another girl to serve Aveline? Make another choice that would lead to consequence, for better or worse?

“Certainly not me,” Breah said in a rush, sitting up straighter. Ulrich arched a brow at her, so she swiveled toward Mareleau. In a much more composed tone, she said, “Sera would do a wonderful job, Majesty. She’s much more skilled at serving a princess than a queen. Wouldn’t you say? I can’t imagine you’d be able to part with me .”

Mareleau had to admit Breah was right. If she had to keep only one of her maids, it would be Breah. She was the only sensible one of the bunch. That didn’t mean she considered the girl a friend. Katra was the last lady’s maid she’d called friend . And that girl had betrayed her by trysting with her suitor.

The memory made her stiffen and reminded her why she kept her maids at a distance. Why she refused to coddle them. Katra’s betrayal had broken Mareleau. It had taught her the futility of friendship and the necessity of being sharp. Suspicious. Relentless. In a way, she was grateful. The experience had made her cold enough to fight for what she deserved. To care less about those who only pretended to care about her. To extend her heart only so far as she was willing to let it be broken.

She’d done enough of that lately with Larylis. Now it was time to be a queen. A leader. Someone who could sit tall in the face of tragedy instead of wanting to curl up and plait her hair like a child. She couldn’t fall apart just because a family member took a tumble down the stairs.

Her heart pulsed in rebellion at such an unfeeling statement, but Mareleau swallowed the treacherous feeling down. Donning the graceful mask that was Queen Mareleau, she said, “I suppose I can live without Sera. Temporarily, of course. I assume Princess Aveline will soon have her own ladies appointed to her?”

“By the time you’re done serving as her companion,” Ulrich said, “she’ll have new ladies. For now, it is in our best interest to keep her circle of influence small and controlled.”

Mareleau bristled at how her uncle referred to her task as serving the princess. She was queen now. She should have to serve no one. Up until this morning, she’d hoped her father would see that and take back his insistence that she complete this ridiculous errand. But today was the last day of their journey, crushing all hope that Verdian would have a change of heart. Her entourage would arrive at the castle in the next couple of hours. Once she was there, her sentence would begin.

It’s really going to happen , she thought, watching the dense forest flanking the road fly by in a blur of brown and green. I’m going to be stuck at Ridine Castle for at least two weeks. The trees seemed to extend claws toward the coach in answer. They were so tall, so dark for such an early hour, that she couldn’t help but see them as sinister. Not to mention the Cambron Mountains leering behind them like a sleeping giant. Such a dreary backdrop lacked both the elegance of the snow-dappled mountains in Selay and the charming green hills she’d glimpsed in Menah. What she’d seen of Khero so far was rugged, rough, and far from enchanting.

“Aveline needs your help, Majesty,” Ulrich said, drawing her attention back to him. “She hasn’t lived as a princess for six years. She’s likely forgotten the rules of royal propriety and tradition. You must teach her your wisdom.”

She couldn’t tell if he was being earnest or not, especially with that flippant tone of his. Ulrich had never treated her like she held even an ounce of wisdom. There were times when he was downright disrespectful. After everything her father had said regarding her lack of safety as his heir, she had even less reasons to trust her uncle’s sincerity.

“Princess Aveline is so lucky to have you, Your Majesty,” Breah said.

Mareleau wasn’t certain the princess would feel the same. Their first and only encounter had been rife with tension. Now that everything with Larylis was settled, she could admit she’d been perhaps a little brusque with Aveline. She’d all but accused her of trying to steal the man she loved. When she looked at the situation objectively, it was clear Aveline had no ulterior motive and was simply agreeing to terms that had been delivered to her. It had been desperation, not desire, that had driven the princess to agree to a marriage with Larylis.

Mareleau was a jealous creature, but she could try to forgive the princess for having posed a short-lived threat to her happiness. Couldn’t she? She’d at least have to pretend.

Breah’s words took on a conspiratorial tone. “I heard she’s been living in the forest this entire time. Raised by wolves if you can believe it.”

Ulrich released a disapproving grunt and opened his broadsheets. The messenger had delivered the paper alongside the letter bearing word of Lurel’s demise. His voice came from behind the front page. “She was raised by a group of covert operatives tasked with keeping the princess safely hidden from the traitorous duke.”

Mareleau couldn’t help but note his rehearsed-sounding tone. She wasn’t privy to all the details of the battle with Duke Morkai, the truth of King Dimetreus’ captivity, or the secrets of Princess Aveline’s faked death, but every rumor she’d heard involved dark magic shrouded in secrecy, all of which her uncle constantly refuted. It would have been a comfort to hear such claims dismissed had Mareleau not known Ulrich’s very duty was to create official statements for public consumption. In other words, everything he’d just said to her could have been a lie.

“Act kindly to Her Highness,” Ulrich said, “but do not let your guard down. Remember that your job is not to be her friend but her confidante.”

She sniffed, not bothering to respond. If anyone understood her duty, it was she. Mareleau knew she was a spy and nothing more, entrusted with a task that would earn her father’s trust. Or whatever was left of it.

Under no circumstances did she intend to make friends.