There were no whispers or murmurs this time. The groups surrounding us watched me in silence, contemplating the alchemy of spirits and wondering about what else it could do. It was the first time that many were seeing its true nature, or at least, what they believed to be its true nature. Several had wistful looks about them as they recalled old memories that hinted at details about the Sisterhood’s alchemical secrets. They cut and ate their foods distractedly as they tried to drum up celebrated tales from the back of their minds about spies and assassins using the alchemy of dark and white alcohols to heighten their rational senses, sharpen their reasoning mind. At the very least, my performance here would encourage more lively conversation after dinner was over.
Uncle scanned the room with flitting eyes. They settled back on me, and then he nodded slow, offering a gesture of approval with a flourish of his hand.
Father watched with a restrained enthusiasm. He had surely been expecting me to be impressive, but not to try something of this scale. He was not aware of how far my fake alchemical abilities might have stretched. Very few in Chaya knew. In a way, it really had no bounds. Whatever I could pull off with a few waves of the hand and distracting dialogue was within the realm of possibility. Mother’s expression was more unreadable. A bit of surprise perhaps, and a stroke of sequestered anxiety that had become second nature to anything concerning her oldest daughter.
I walked up to Queen O’nell next. Her eyes didn’t shy away, but she watched with a wry smile now, no longer peering to see more than my eyes and body language would give away. Mother wore the same expression whenever she knew something Father didn’t during their discussions on politics and alchemy. A benefit of being in the Sisterhood.
I eyed the wine that I had put down. “Forgive me,” I said, glancing at Haben and then the tables around us. “My abilities are not sufficient to make this kind of… cognizance… last very long. I feel it wearing off already.” I clenched my fists then folded my hands together, closing my eyes and pretending to concentrate on something. I opened them, blurring my vision to wear the same clouded expression I started with. I clapped my hands in front of my eyes, as though to scare the magic out of me.
“In the few more minutes this will last, Queen O’nell, I’d like to venture on how you play chutrang. I believe, based on what I know of your personality, that I can make a few bold assumptions. Even if they are not entirely accurate, I think they will give you something to consider.”
She sipped more of her wine, but her expression didn’t change.
“Your favorite piece is actually the assassin, not the knight, as everyone else might assume.”
She raised an eyebrow. I followed her glance to Mother.
I continued. “You do not like the knight because it is designed for offensive play, and you do not like being predictable. You do not like pieces whose dispositions are decided by their very nature. It is against the essence of strategy, and no matter how aggressive your temperament or ambitions are, this is a rule you would never violate. Ambition is your fire, but strategy is your light.”
She set her wine glass down. Leaned an inch closer to me.
“You also believe that courtiers and rulers don’t pay enough attention to defensive maneuvering. You regret that even your own kingdom lacks in this area. A good queen knows that conquering new lands is useless if you do not know how to maintain your control over them. I would even go as far as to presume that you ask the military academy of Xenash to focus more on the elements of defending a kingdom than sieging another.” I paused again, waiting a few seconds to study any change in her demeanor, then I continued to a more bold presumption. “In this war that we have declared against the vampire queen, you do not believe that an outright march on the Shaed is appropriate, but you do not want to voice that opinion for fear of coming off as weak. Still, you would rather that the kingdoms focused on fortifying their own borders. You believe that if we just protected our kingdoms from Narkissa’s daemons, then we could starve them. They would grow weak from feeding on animals, or launch a sloppy offensive if they became desperate.”
For a long time, Queen O’nell simply stared at me in silence. She would occasionally flash a glance at the wine glass I had used for the performance, but other than that, she steadily watched me while debating something in her head—an idea that had come to her in the last few seconds of my speech. Several minutes went by. I stood quietly, slowing my breath to make it seem like whatever alchemical effects the wine had granted were fading away.
Queen’ O’nell rolled her shoulders then bolted up and began clapping. The people around us followed, even those who had heard nothing of what I said. Several tables, farther away, lifted their heads to try to glimpse what was happening. Even my uncle and Aymeer clapped, though reluctantly.
At least a dozen courtiers and nobles approached me to ask questions, or perhaps to offer their compliments, but Mother pulled me away before they could. Yephi and Iris tried to follow and she waved them away. She took me to a nook behind where the servers were coming from, and then knelt on her dress to speak to me eye to eye. Several people nodded approvingly as I walked by, even lifting their glasses in a toast. They must have thought Mother was checking for alchemical side effects when they saw her pulling me away hastily. I’d never learned the side effects of the alchemy of spirits. That might have given it away to anyone familiar with it.
“That was risky, Dina.” Mother pinched her lips into a stern expression then combed over the threads of my dress, pulling away loose hairs that had gotten stuck under some of the designs. She took extra care not to loosen any of the colored fibers by mistake, holding still her bracelets and bangles with her other hand to steady her motions. She was careful like this with everything. Alchemy, painting, gardening, cleaning, reading. Mother saw the world in detail, and caution for her wasn’t just a way to avoid danger, it was a way to express modesty. To show the world that you didn’t think you owned it. Don’t get me wrong; Mother was proud, just in a different way than everyone else. She understood the pulse and flow of the way, but never made a point to exhibit her competence.
“Risky, but well done. Very well done,” she said.
When Mother complimented me, she didn’t smile or even look happy to do it. She always used a serious tone, and maintained a straight face. You couldn’t goad Mother into your favor the way you could with Father. Even Taa was much easier to impress, at least for me. With Taa, it was black and white. If Taa told you to recite the Comilla alphabet and you did it backwards, she was impressed. If Taa told you to describe the medicinal qualities of lima tea and you told her the harmful ones as well, she was impressed. With Mother, she cared more about how careful you were with something than how bold you were with it. I’d tried figuring out a way to earn her admiration more easily, even through hypnosis and the more eccentric techniques they sometimes described in the way to get people to do things, but none of it ever worked. You had to earn Mother’s compliments the hard way. By doing the right thing. A person like me deserved better, but we cannot always choose the cards we are dealt. It always bothers me when something in life has no shortcut. It is a fundamental flaw in its design.
Mother glanced at Queen O’nell and my uncle, then turned back to me. “Not exactly what the alchemy of wine looks like, but a well done job for…” Her voice trailed off.
“Someone who doesn’t have any magic?” I said softly.
She set her jaw, clicking her tongue in disdain. “What you did, that is its own kind of magic. Something better than alchemy.” She tapped my nose with a finger. “When will you realize that, Dina? There are people who would give up all the magic in the world for your abilities.”
“Ahh, yes,” I admitted, focusing my eyes to wear that clouded expression one last time. I lifted both hands, twisting them through the air in interlacing arcs. “The alchemy of fiction. Side effects include sin and guilt.” I stretched my arms in an imaginary embrace and sighed. “Mother, this career is far less dem
anding than it looks. I would hardly call it magic. You do understand that lying has no side effects? I know it’s a relatively foreign concept for you.”
Mother crossed her arms, drumming her fingers against the sleeves of her dress. Her bracelets clinked against each other in a satisfying ring. “I could have told you what the alchemy of wine looked like if you had this in mind. It would have been more convincing. Not that your performance wasn’t good enough.”
I shrugged, keeping my arms in the air. “It’s not like anyone here knows what it really looks like. Right? Only those in the Sisterhood would know.”
“Except for one. And she’s approaching you from behind.”
“I know,” I said.
“Shieka, may I borrow Dina for one moment?” Queen O’nell asked from behind me. Her olive eyes looked a deep teal under alchemical lights. She had loosened her hair, wearing half of it down and half of it twisted upward in a bent knot held together by sapphire tipped hairpins. I was sure she had just been too lazy to keep up the weave, but her intent and sharp expressions made it look like her whole appearance had to be purposeful. She lowered her voice. “I’d like to speak to her alone for a minute. Don’t worry, I’m just curious about something, and I’ll regret it later if I don’t take the chance to ask now.”
“Of course,” I replied, before Mother could say anything. She wouldn’t refuse outright, but she may have tried to deflect the approach if she had the chance to. “Is it advice for chutrang that you’re seeking, Queen O’nell?” I tried to steer the conversation before my mother could interrupt.
“Something like that,” Queen O’nell replied, eyes alight with amusement.
Mother bowed, tugging softly on the left side of her dress. She went low enough to be respectful, but she was quick and nimble enough to remain casual and friendly. It was the kind of offhand motion you had to practice in front of a mirror for hours to get right. “Taa should be here soon, Queen O’nell,” Mother said. “I’m sure the two of you have much to catch up on. She misses you deeply.”
Queen O’nell cringed at her title. “We have much to catch up on as well, Shieka. And please, Queen Anasahara, I’m tired of being Queen O’nell all the time. Let me be Kriste somewhere. They certainly wouldn’t allow it in Xenash.”
“Point taken,” Mother said, smiling. “I’ll be waiting for you with more wine.” She turned and walked away to Father and the other courtiers.
Queen O’nell knelt like Mother had.
“Dina,” she whispered. A pause. She considered her words. “What you did back there....” A hungry look. She placed a hand on my braid, tightening one of the knots absentmindedly. Her eyes darted to where everyone was sitting. “I know what alchemy of wine looks like. And I tasted your wine just in case, right after.”
A long silence.
She knew it was a ruse, but she wasn’t here to complain about it or accuse me of fooling people. The opposite. I put on my most confident smile. Sly and canny, a smirk that could have been patented with the trade guilds. A curve of the lip. Something childish. A hint of teeth. Something wolfish.
Queen O’nell continued, “The high priestess is the one who taught me. And the wine, well, I’ve been drinking that one since I was your age. When you use alchemy on anything, it loses its nutrients. Its essence. When you use it on wine, it loses its taste.” She held a finger up as she spoke. “Even if just a single note or fragrance was off in that tinesault wine, I would know.” She searched for a trace of guilt on my expression. She smiled when she saw none.
“Dina,” she whispered. She came closer. “You did that on your own? All those deductions, thoughts, observations. All the things you said. With no alchemical advantages at all?” Her breath smelled like grapefruit and fresh oranges. Her scent was Mother’s. Her air was Mother’s. Even her tone was Mother’s. A younger version of Mother, back when she was more free and careless. Before she was wife to a king, mother to a queen.
Queen O’nell’s eyes widened. She licked her lips. An obsessive look.
I pointed to my temples. I shook my head. “None,” I said. “All in here.” I tried to match her expression for its intensity.
She gripped my braid with both hands. The oils that rubbed off on her fingertips didn’t bother her. She smoothed it across her palms, kneading the oils into her skin. I had known her for so long. To the world she was a conqueror, herald of war, otha iu Laila. To me she was Jahsuk. Aunt. She’d become more distant when she took the throne, but in moments like these I was five again, and she was a young princess who had returned to Chaya to seek Taa’s wisdom once more and play with her granddaughter in her free time. Queen O’nell’s uncle had passed when I was eight, leaving her the throne of Xenash. She still visited Chaya every one or two years.
She spoke, looking at my hair and playing with the knots. “Dina… you are going to be a terrifying queen one day. Terrifying.”
A grin.
“How could you see all that?” she asked.
I bent my head low, speaking softly like I was about to share a secret with her. “Viden yulna ut.” I said. “The Evil Eye sees all.”
Queen O’nell regarded me for a long moment, then tilted her head toward where my mother and father were sitting now. I followed her gaze. Father was seated. Mother stood next to him. He had one hand over his shoulder that she held firmly. She wasn’t looking here, but she was watching. Her free hand drew idle shapes on the back of the witchwater throne.
“Dina, if the ambitions of Chaya ever feel too small for you, leave ruling this kingdom to your sisters,” Queen O’nell said. “With ahjur teaching them, they’ll grow up to be quite capable. Come to Xenash instead. I have no children, and I do not plan on bearing any. At least not for now. I would make you my heir by law, and together we could build an empire as big as Enek’Senehet’s. I trust you’ve heard of her?”
I nodded. “The greatest of the sultanas.”
“Greatest of all the conquerors Mirradalia has ever seen. The only one to truly conquer all of Adhib. Her empire stretched from the Silsipia Desert to the Glass Mountains. Enek’Senehet, Queen of a Hundred-Thousand Deaths. They nicknamed her Shanto, you know. Not Shanto’s daughter. Not Shanto’s disciple. Just Shanto. When people saw her ride into battle, they saw the light that led to the long journey.” She held my hand. “We could be something like that, Dina. Keep it in your mind. I would say that you’ll understand what I am offering better when you’re older—but I have a feeling that doesn’t apply to you.” She winked. “An empire that stretches from the Silsipia Desert to the Obelisk Tundra. A place for all people, and rid of all daemons.” She traced the shapes of the continents in the air to thread her words into something I could dream about tonight.
I blinked. Steel had crept into her voice.
Queen O’nell tilted my head with the nudge of a finger and pointed toward a group of servers holding different wines.
“Have you drank before, Dina?” she asked. Her voice cracked. The steel was gone. She played with a pearl chain that hooked around her shoulder cape, a suede-black ripple of cloth that had the crest of House O’nell stitched in luminescent yellow threads. The cloud tortoise.
“A little bit,” I said. “Never really liked it.”
“Spirits from your Taa?”
I nodded.
Queen O’nell scowled. “That stuff is poison. I remember stealing some from her when I was here. I considered quitting drinking forever. Sticking to water. It almost ruined my life.” She pointed to the wine casks again. “Have some of the tinesault wine that I favor so much. You’ll like it. It tastes like sweet oranges. Sugar and grapefruit.” Her mouth split into a mischievous grin, teeth showing corner to corner. “They make it even better in Xenash. They put cream all along the top and fill the glass with strawberries. You have to build up the right taste buds early on if you want to drink properly when you’re older. You’ll want a good, long head start, you know? Believe me, Dina, you’ll need it when you’re a ruler. Particularly a rule
r like the one you’ll be, if my guess is any good.”
“I can try a bit, I suppose.” I leaned in closer to her. “But… you’ll have to distract Mother.”
“Consider it done,” Queen O’nell said seriously, turning to my mother with a sudden vigor. “Dina, I will temporarily declare war on one of the other lords here.” Her eyes scanned all the tables near us. “Don’t worry I’ll pick a weaker house or city-state. Just make sure you get your fill of wine.” She strode off before I could say anything more.
Her words lingered. I would never take the offer, even when I was older. Chaya was my place, not Xenash, but her words were kind, and they meant much more to me than she would ever know. I didn’t think she understood the full extent of my fraudulent activities—she had assumed I only faked the alchemy of wine to be impressive. Still, she had not condemned me for trying to fool her. She had praised me for it. I should have expected that. She was sculpted by the high priestess and Taa. She valued strength and cunning in other people. She was nurtured to look for it in herself.
I eyed the servers. There were wine casks on empty tables at the sides. I could pour myself a little from those. They would draw less attention. Only a few nobles stood around there, finished with dinner and chatting idly with each other. I couldn’t ask a server. They might be hesitant to pour some for me, or ask Mother or Father if it was okay. I’d be leaving a trail. Most of them would recognize me, and some might be privy to incriminating knowledge. I’d tried to sneak in things for Taa before. Special deliveries, she’d call them.
Queen O’nell glanced at me one last time before engaging Mother in conversation. She held a thumb up. I grabbed a small wooden cup and filled it halfway with tinesault wine. I raised the cup to take a sip, but was distracted by movement near the entrance of the great hall. The doors opened once more. There was no music this time. The room quieted down. Not to silence, but quieter than it was. Taa entered. Eyes and murmurs followed her. She met their glances, glowing jade eyes returning their challenge with the glimmers of an old bloodlust. You couldn’t blame them for looking. There were many new and young nobles here. Many courtiers who were just starting their professions. It was the first time they were seeing Maya Anasahara, The Tide Bringer.
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