I curve my arms around myself. “I’ve given the same speech every time we’ve opened a mine. They’ve heard it all before—rebirth, progression, hope.”
“They expect it.” Sir doesn’t yield, and when I take another step toward the tent, he grabs my arm. “My queen. You’re forgetting your position.”
If only,I think, then immediately regret it. I don’t want to forget who I am now.
I just wish I could be both thisandmyself.
Alysson and Dendera stand quietly behind Sir; Conall and Garrigan wait a few paces off to the side; Theron made it here and converses with a few of his men. This normalcy makes it easier to notice how out of place Nessa suddenly looks next to her brothers. Her shoulders angle forward, but her attention is pinned on an alley to my right.
I shake out of Sir’s grip and nod in Nessa’s direction as I stride forward.
“They’re back,” she whispers when I reach her. Her eyes cut to the alley, and I can see from this angle that Finn and Greer stand at the edge of the light, motionless until my attention locks onto them.
Finn bobs his head and they move toward the main tent as if they’ve been in Gaos all along. They left Jannuari with us but split off soon after, creeping away before any Cordellans could realize that the queen’s Winterian council went from five members to three.
Sir guides me to the tent as if afraid I’ll refuse to do that too. But I push ahead of him, crowding around the table in the center with Alysson and Dendera. We all try to maintain a relaxed air, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to draw attention. But my anxiety splits into frayed strands that loop more tightly around my lungs with every passing second.
“What did you find?” Sir is the first to speak, his tone low.
Finn and Greer push against the table, sweat streaking through smudges of dirt on their faces. I cross my arms. Such a normal thing—the queen’s advisors returning from a mission. But I can’t get the gnawing in my head to agree.
I should have gone on this trip to retrieve information for the monarch—I shouldn’t be the monarch herself.
Finn opens his sack and pulls out a bundle while Greer removes one from his waist. “Stopped in Spring first,” Finnsays, his attention on the table. Only Conall, Garrigan, and Nessa look out of the tent, watching the Cordellans for any sign of movement toward us. “The early reports that the Cordellans received were correct—no sign of Angra. Spring has transformed into a military state, run by a handful of his remaining generals. No magic, though, and no warmongering.”
Relief fights to sputter through me, but I hold it back. Just because Spring is silent doesn’t mean everything is fine—if Angra survived the battle in Abril and wanted to keep his survival a secret, he’d be a fool to stay in Spring.
And since we haven’t heard a word from him since the battle, if he is alive . . . he definitely doesn’t want anyone to know.
“We passed through Autumn on our way to Summer—both are unchanged,” Finn continues. “Autumn was gracious, and Summer didn’t even realize we were there, which made poking around for rumors of Angra easier. Yakim and Ventralli, on the other hand . . .”
I jolt closer to the table. “They found you?”
Greer nods. “Word spread of two Winterians in the kingdom. Luckily when we said we were there on behalf of our queen, they seemed to soften toward us—but they didn’t let us out of their sight until we left their borders. Both Yakim and Ventralli sent gifts for you.”
He nudges the bundles toward me. I pick up the first one and pull back the matted cloth to reveal a book, a thickvolume bound in leather with black lettering embossed on the cover.
“The Effective Implementation of Tax Laws Under Queen Giselle?” I read. The Yakimian queen sent me a book about tax laws she enacted?
Finn shrugs. “She wanted to give us more, but we told her we hadn’t the resources to carry it all. She invites you to her kingdom. They both did, actually.”
That makes me pick up the other package. This one unrolls, spreading over the table to reveal a tapestry, multicolored threads weaving together to form a scene of Winter’s snowy fields overtaking Spring’s green-and-floral forest.
“The Ventrallan queen had that created,” Finn notes. “To congratulate you on your victory.”
I trace a finger down the twirl of silver thread that separates Winter from Spring. “We were in Ventralli and Yakim before Angra fell, gathering supplies and other such things, and people saw us, and never once did the royal families care. Why now?”
Greer’s age deepens in the way his wrinkles crease, his body slouches. “Cordell has its hands in two Seasons now—Autumn and Winter. With such a strong foothold here, they’d be able to take Spring easily too, if Noam chose to do so. Summer has trade agreements with Yakim, but no formal alliance. The other Rhythms know Noam is seeking the magic chasm, and they fear his ambitions.They’re testing Winter’s allegiance to Cordell, to see if they can unseat Noam.”
“They were both most adamant that you visit them,” Finn adds. “Queen Giselle told us you are always welcome. Queen Raelyn said the same of Ventralli—she seems to be the one speaking for the king, though he was just as eager to meet you.”
I shake my head. “Did any of those kingdoms show signs of . . . him?”
I can’t say his name. Can’t force myself to feel it grating on my tongue.
“No, my queen,” Greer replies. “There was no sign of Angra. We didn’t go to Paisly—the trip through their mountains is treacherous, and after the attitudes we observed in Ventralli and Yakim, we didn’t think it necessary.”
“Why?”
