Lia turned, her skirts swirling. Her eyes widened.
I resembled twilight with stars; Lia was moonlight and frozen winter. Her dress was thin white silk, matched to her skin, with tree branches embroidered in blue and black, stark and winter- bare, studded with tiny diamonds. The Midwinter crown, a twisted silver tiara dripping with crystal and diamonds – her grandfather’s nod to extravagance – held her unbound hair in place.
She walked towards me. The embroidered branches clung to her arms and chest and hips.
Lia smiled, almost shyly. I remembered myself, and dropped into a curtsey. ‘Your Majesty, you – you look astonishing.’
‘Thank you, Miss Bayonn. The dressmaker will have an avalanche of work after tonight.’ I stayed in the curtsey, my head down, too afraid to meet her gaze and betray myself to everyone around us.
She eased me up. Her mouth quirked in a conspiring smile. ‘It’s Midwinter. Even I had to get a new dress.’
Midwinter had been the First Empire’s most important celebration. Their seasonal gods had derived from magical roots, lords and ladies of frost and snow, spring and rebirth, worshipped by the same people whose new rulers walked among them blindfolded. As Lia had worn the silk blindfold at her coronation, now she’d spend the evening as Lady Winter –
I considered my dress and jewels in a new light.
She beamed.
Lady Winter’s companions, according to legend, were Twilight and Night. The retellings lacked specific details from being passed down generations, so the roles and titles were interchangeable between people, but their status as Lady Winter’s companions never changed.
In my most wistful daydreams, I’d hoped to be Twilight or Night. But I’d reminded myself gossip would follow, even though Lia would hardly honour any of her ladies, or Isra, with the role. But now, despite it all, I was Twilight.
Aubrey was surely Night.
In some retellings, Lady Winter had desired them both.
‘You planned this,’ I said.
‘Of course. Did you really think I’d ignore you on Midwinter?’
‘The Court will whisper.’
‘Trust me,’ she said, and turned back to an impatient servant.
Matthias swooped in and politely dragged me towards the door. ‘Let me escort you, Miss Bayonn, so we’re both present for Her Majesty’s entrance.’ He didn’t speak until the door closed after us. ‘I wanted to tell you, but Lia insisted on silence.’
‘Aubrey is Night,’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘Does he know about me?’
‘Unlikely.’
‘This will be a disaster.’
‘Not necessarily.’
I wrenched my arm from his grasp. ‘Easy for you to say!’
He reached for my elbow again, but reconsidered at my glare. ‘Calm down.’
‘Tell me again to calm down–’
He shook his head and forced me to stop with an outstretched arm. ‘No, enough. It can’t begin like this. I’m not sure what Lia’s planned, but I trust her. So do you.’
After a moment, I nodded.
‘Good. Follow me. One last thing.’ We turned into a small library that people would use later tonight to debate or argue away from the ballroom. I blinked in the low light. Furnished with fabrics that could be easily cleaned or replaced (it wasn’t a debate unless glasses smashed), it didn’t have niches or corners for more… intimate discussion.
A servant waited with two flat square boxes. Matthias took them, and waited until we were alone before opening the first.
Twilight’s diadem lay on faded blue velvet, silver with a large sapphire flanked by small diamonds. Mama had described it from the Midwinter balls she’d attended with Lord Martain.
I stepped back. ‘I can’t wear this.’
‘You can, and you will,’ Matthias said. ‘Her Majesty has decided.’
It felt lighter than I’d expected. Matthias carefully arranged my hair around it. From the second box, he pulled out a gauzy dark blue train embroidered with stars. He attached it to my shoulders. It trailed on the floor behind me.
‘Beautiful,’ he said.
‘Impractical.’
‘Nothing about Midwinter is practical.’ He nudged me, smiling. ‘You’ll stun them all.’
‘I’m not ranked high enough for this.’
‘The Queen’s besotted with you. I think you qualify.’ He surprised me with a hug. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘I feel ill.’
‘Well, you’re not eating until after the opening dances.’
Lady Winter, flanked by Twilight and Night, opened the ball with traditional dances. My chest tightened.
‘I don’t know the dance, or what I’m supposed–’
‘Lia will control everything. Just don’t forget she’s dancing with Aubrey afterwards.’ He coaxed me out into the hall, and we slipped into the ballroom.
A wave of heat made me glad I wore thin silk. The crush of bodies was stifling. Matthias guided me towards a pillar to the right of the dais. My train only got stepped on twice, before people recognised it and surged back, whispering. Zola betrayed a distinct lack of surprise at my appearance.
‘You all knew about this.’
‘Of course. Mama would never put you in such dark fabric otherwise.’
‘I thought the blue was… respectable.’ Hindsight was ridiculous.
Zola patted my arm. ‘You were otherwise preoccupied.’
I’d moped about not being with Lia during the ball, oblivious to everyone quietly planning around me. I possessed enough decency and shame to whisper, ‘Thank you.’
Zola smiled. ‘Don’t embarrass Mama.’
Aubrey appeared at the opposite pillar, dressed in black velvet. I was starry twilight; he was endless night. He raised his eyebrows at me.
‘I can’t do this.’ I’m nothing compared to Aubrey. I’m nothing compared to them together.
‘Yes, you can,’ Zola whispered, unusually firm. ‘It’s you she prefers, not Aubrey.’
No one had mentioned love, including Lia and myself. We knew better.
‘Her Majesty, the Queen!’
Gasps and murmurs swirled around Lia like her gown.
Matthias nudged me forward. Aubrey and I bowed and curtseyed, Twilight and Night honouring Winter.
It’s you she prefers, not Aubrey. I allowed myself a small smile. Lia glided down the steps and presented her hands for me to kiss.
Lady Winter controlled the dance, even with a ruling King. Lia’s aunt had done this last year, as had her grandmother and great-grandmother, a tradition stretching back to the First Empire.
A servant eased the train from my shoulders. Lia and I faced each other. I tried to keep my breathing level, conscious of the sweat under my dress and the feel of Lia’s hands.
At the opening strains of music, we moved in a circle. The dance was faster than usual, but the first one usually descended into improvisation, the calm, brutal chill turning into a savage winter gale.
I concentrated on the steps and rhythm. Heat radiated from her, flared from our joined hands as we spun away and back towards each other. When we came together for the embrace in the middle, she pressed a hand to the small of my back and interlinked our fingers. I succumbed to the feel of her sleek-rough dress, her perfume, her breath against my neck when she leaned our heads together during a twirl.
It was too much. It wasn’t enough.
Faces blurred around us when we spun for the finale. I hoped my expression was difficult to read, as I could hardly hide how I felt with Lia this close.
We stamped and spun for the last time, our skirts settling as we faced each other, palm to palm, both of us gasping. Lia’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright.
I wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t stand.
She stepped back.
My stomach dropped, before she brushed her lips across the back of my hand, the most soft and gentle kiss she could manage in public.
It was enough. It had to be.
I ate. Or maybe I moved food around my plate in an acceptable pretence of eating. My good spirits had dwindled to nothing by the end of Lia and Aubrey’s dance.
‘They made a good show of desiring each other,’ Zola said. ‘A poor imitation of you and Lia.’
Which was the problem. Had we shown the Court a pretence of desiring each other, or had we revealed too much? Had we brushed silk or skin too tenderly, gazed at each other a moment too long?
People made it worse by actually speaking to me. While I was part of Lia’s circle, as Fifth Step I was also easily ignored. But Twilight and Night were tokens of immense royal favour: Lia had informed the Court I was someone to be taken seriously, as was my family.
Zola might be engaged by next Midwinter.
So might I, but that was the least of my worries.
After the meal, we moved to the ballroom. I managed a dance with Matthias, who didn’t know whether to hug or laugh at me.
Zola politely and ruthlessly turned down Ernest Blackwood for a dance.
Later, I noticed Matthias leaning against a pillar with a tall man from the Farezi party, one of the junior diplomats. His smile was razor-sharp, both a warning and invitation, but the man didn’t seem to mind.
Matthias always kept his own secrets best.
‘I’m leaving,’ I told Zola. ‘It’s – it’s too hard.’ I wouldn’t look at Lia. Better not to know who she was talking to, or laughing or dancing with.
‘I’ll go with you.’
‘No. One of us should enjoy ourselves.’
My heels clicked in the empty halls, the giggles and sighs from smaller rooms fading as I headed towards the residential suites. I hesitated at my door, then ducked into the passages and went to the royal wing.
In Lia’s rooms, I sat and watched the guttering fire. I finally rose and wiped off my facepaint, then tried to read. The words blurred into nonsense, and I tossed the book aside.
Whiskey didn’t help, either, but the trembling in my hands eased. The clock chimed the longest hour. Maybe I should go back to my rooms. Lia would surely have to stay until the end –
The main doors to her suite opened, then closed quietly. Footsteps crossed the outer foyer, then the door opened.
I froze.
Lia’s eyes flickered over me, then around the room. I couldn’t look away from her mouth. Her gaze lingered on my throat.
Heat rolled through me.
She stepped forward. ‘You left early.’
I should have said, I’m sorry, I was tired. Instead: ‘I couldn’t stand only having one dance with you, and not being able to stay close, or talk–’
‘You could have,’ she said, ‘as Twilight–’
‘– or touch you –’
She paused, then: ‘Midwinter is for lovers.’
‘Is it? I wouldn’t know.’
Her footsteps were slow, deliberate.
She traced my eyebrows with a fingertip, trailed her knuckles down the side of my face. I caught her wrist when her hand reached my lips, and kissed her knuckles.
I regretted nothing at the sound that trembled from her.
She crushed her mouth to mine. There was nothing gentle about the kiss.
We broke apart.
‘The dress is lovely,’ Lia said, ‘but I’m afraid it must simply come off.’
I shivered at the roughness in her voice. ‘Not difficult.’ She laughed, reached for the necklace clasp, and carefully removed her great-grandmother’s jewels.
I kissed her, and she didn’t laugh again for a long time.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lia
I hadn’t wanted to get up, but the servant had said Rassa wished to speak with me and wouldn’t leave. ‘He’s inclined to keep his word, Your Majesty,’ she’d said, irritated, so I’d kissed Xania goodbye and rose to dress.
Now I found myself walking in the gardens, tired and hungry, while Rassa remained silent.
‘You dragged me out of bed,’ I said. ‘Speak.’
Rassa smirked. ‘You look tired. Did you overindulge?’
I was suffering from lack of sleep, not wine. I should still have been with Xania in my warm bed.
‘No.’ My voice was sharper than intended, but my patience was in short supply. ‘It’s unseemly.’
‘Your uncle didn’t believe that.’
‘You arranged an early walk to tell me what I already know?’
‘No,’ Rassa said. ‘You regard Miss Bayonn highly.’
Fear turned to ice shards in my stomach. ‘Of course. She can sensibly converse. I value such skills.’
‘Cousin.’ Rassa’s condescending tone made me bristle. ‘You’ve formed an attachment to her. No one could miss it last night.’
I hadn’t been careful. I’d shown my desire, even though I’d known better. I had to be delicate with this. Careful.
I rolled my eyes. ‘I imagine you’re attached to your closest friends.’
‘I suppose.’ His smile matched his condescending tone. ‘But we both know that’s not the attachment I mean.’
The ice shards turned lethal in my stomach.
‘You mean, do I desire her? Yes.’ I laced my words with scorn. ‘It doesn’t particularly matter. Miss Bayonn can do many things, but she can’t give me an heir.’
He laughed. ‘True.’
‘I’m not ashamed of it, nor her. But if you are ashamed for me, it bodes ill for my affection for you.’
He stopped, unable to hide his shock and disbelief. I wasn’t acting according to plan. ‘Cousin, I would never – I didn’t mean –’
‘I will marry,’ I said, ‘and have children. That won’t change. But what I do in private is my own business. I wouldn’t be the first.’
‘What you do in private is your own business,’ Rassa conceded, as we resumed walking. ‘And there would be no illegitimacy to contend with. But, well... some in Court won’t agree.’
I laughed. ‘In Farezi, perhaps, Cousin. Not in Edar. What is open and consensual between adults isn’t condemned.’
Unless it involved power and bloodlines. Then everything turned difficult. If I weren’t a Queen and Xania an eldest daughter, no one would care we were together.
But if I hadn’t been me, I wouldn’t have met Matthias and crossed paths with Xania. Everything was built on from decisions and consequences: my great-grandfather rising up against a weak ruler; my father marrying my mother; my father dying. My meeting Matthias and saving his life; my uncle and aunt having no children. Matthias helping Xania to avenge her father, and him introducing her to me.
Xania and I admitting our feelings.
My refusal to give her up.
So much, built on so little.
‘Be careful how far you think you can push me,’ I said. ‘I’ve fought and pushed and reasoned my way this far. I won’t stop because of your misguided concern for my reputation.’
His expression hardened; I’d misstepped. Yet he was polite, if distant, when he said, ‘I wouldn’t dream of that. My concern is out of love.’
There was something else in his coldness, something I wasn’t interpreting clearly. But between this and his implication I was unfit to rule, I had to make the next move before he did.
It would have to be Aubrey. And I’d have to announce the engagement sooner rather than later.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Xania
It was inevitable I’d turn to Papa after Lia told me she’d chosen Aubrey.
Soon after my birthday, I finally realised why his journals were boring: they were written in code, each entry carefully hiding the truth.
It started simple enough: Papa had slipped in lies about Zola and me that only someone who knew us well would recognise. Zola liked grapes. (She didn’t: she broke out in blemishes after eating them, once almost fainting after accidentally drinking a pear and grape cordial.) I helped him plant a new batch of spring vines. (I’d almost set them on fire, mostly by accident.) I ho
vered over phrases, flicked pages back and forth, picked out other seemingly innocent sentences, none of them true.
The cyphers started basic: each lie was the translation key until a new one took over for the next batch of entries.
My dearest Xania, if you’re reading this, then you are of age, I am dead, and your mother was right about my foolishness…
He used more elaborate codes further into the notebooks. The technical detail was staggering. In some sections he used two codes, occasionally three, forcing me to translate, then re-translate. Sometimes I had to skip entire sections to find their codes later, then go back to decipher them.
Papa and I had bonded over codes and puzzles, which made the betrayal worse when he’d mentored Matthias. But the notebooks’ growing difficulty finally made me turn to Lia, who searched her libraries for books written by and about previous spymasters – including their cyphers, since Papa had probably borrowed from the best.
It made me feel closer to him than in years. But I couldn’t understand how he knew everything in the entries: alliances, financial records far beyond his Treasury access, conspiracies, treachery.
‘Are you certain you won’t come with us?’ Lia propped her chin on her palm.
I stirred my tea, jerked out of my thoughts. ‘Pouting is unattractive.’
‘We have more financials to sort through,’ Matthias said, ‘as well as her father’s journals. And Coin has requested an interview.’
‘Which she can’t attend,’ Lia said.
‘In person. She can eavesdrop perfectly well,’ Matthias said.
Lia probably wanted to spend as much time as possible at the Midwinter markets with me today, since she was announcing her engagement tonight. But we both wanted more than we could get.
Lia sighed, as if wrestling with similar bleak thoughts. ‘Oh, very well. Stay and be responsible.’
I rubbed my thumb over her knuckles, and kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll miss you.’
Matthias flicked slices of pear at us.
Lia dawdled over breakfast until she could no longer ignore Matthias’s pointed looks. We kissed again, slowly, before she left.
Queen of Coin and Whispers Page 22