“No,” I snap, hear my tone, and deflate a bit. “Thank you, but no,” I try again, calmer. “Winter needs to build a relationship with them too, right? Let me do this. I just want to introduce my kingdom to her.”
He still seems uncertain, but he nods. “All right.”
If he adds anything else, I don’t hear it, shoving past him and back inside. Ceridwen already left, presumably waiting in the carriage, so when Theron leaves, it’s just Giselle, my guards, and me in her massive laboratory.
The door thunks behind me a moment later. Giselle stands by her ledger, pen scratching at the paper, presumably unaware of me when I stop on the other side of the crate, trying with every scrap of strength I have left not to look at it.
Silence creeps in, the bubbling of liquids in the glass tubes gurgling loud and unhindered. I draw in a deepbreath.
“Queen Giselle,” I begin. Formal. Proper. A queen to a queen. “I wish to—”
“I know what you think of me, Winter queen,” she cuts in, her voice emotionless and level. She lowers her pen to the ledger and pivots to me, eyes cocked in study.
I swallow. “Do you?”
“You disagree with the way I run my kingdom. You think I’m heartless.”
She doesn’t react at all, just that heavy gaze. Which makes it easier not to be shocked that she guessed how I feel, and I cross my arms, muscles hard.
“I’ll admit, it is difficult for me to see kingdoms who treat their people in ways I would not treat mine, especially after I worked so hard to get mine back.”
There, that was political and nice, wasn’t it?
Giselle smiles, cold and piercing. “You are very judgmental for someone so unfamiliar with the way the world works.”
Now that wasn’t politicalornice.
“Excuse me?”
She bobs her head toward a door on the side of the room. “Come.”
No explanation. She crosses the room and vanishes through the door, expecting me to follow like an obedient little Season royal.
I wave at Conall and Garrigan before they can even tryto move from where they both lean against a table. “Stay here.”
Conall grunts. “My queen—”
“Stay. Here.” I repeat, hating how strict I sound. Conall relents, sagging as I lift my skirt and march toward the door.
A hall cuts to the left, lit by a few more of those glowing orbs. Another door at the end stands open, casting a vibrant spill of white light into the dim brown interior. I push through it—and almost instantly wobble back.
The door opens onto a mezzanine that laps a room at least two stories deep, unfolding in rows of machinery, tables, and workers. Yakimians scurry about, cranking levers and prodding at the machines, every person moving in tandem.
Giselle knots her fingers into the iron latticework that guards the mezzanine. “One of Putnam University’s test factories. My professors create designs for new devices, and they are crafted in prototype here.” She glances back at me, one brow lifted. “Tell me, Winter queen. Do any of the people below us look despondent?”
I regain my composure and near the railing, eyes snapping over the room below. Giselle’s tone grates at me, her air of superiority unavoidable—she expects to prove me wrong, to sway me to her side.
Whoever these workers are, they aren’t the battered, dirty peasants I saw on the ride in. They’re clean, neat,their white shirts crisp and their breeches well fitting. Only their leather aprons hang dirty, the byproduct of the thick black grease that coats some of these machines, the same sort of stuff we’d use to lubricate carriage wheels or riding equipment.
I look at Giselle. “Of course these people would be cared for—they’re your upper class, aren’t they? I’d be more willing to like you ifeveryonein your kingdom looked this way, but that hasn’t been the case so far.”
Realization throbs in me the moment I finish talking. Insulting the queen of Yakim isnotthe best way to make an alliance with her.
But Giselle laughs and her focus sweeps from my head to my toes. “You are quite young, aren’t you? Yes, I agree that not everyone in my kingdom receives the same treatment—but these workers you see before you are not upper class. They are peasants who proved themselves useful—they are working through the ranks of society, and while it may look like they are menial laborers obeying the plans of a higher lord, they are free to work on their own projects in their spare time. They areencouragedto do such things. I do not devalue my citizens as you may think—I simply give value only when it has been earned.”
I watch the workers, how they flurry around. None of them look anything but enthralled in their tasks. “Good for them. They’ve managed to work your system. Would this be a system they would choose, though, if you weren’tforcing this need for knowledge into them?”
Giselle blinks, surprised for the first time. “My magic use is what you despise?” Her eyes narrow and, after a beat, she grunts like something occurred to her. “They all have this desire for knowledge in them. Everyone does—including you. I foster that desire. It is not like other kingdoms that force their people to bend to emotions or interests they might not otherwise harbor. Knowledge is a worldwide pursuit. Do not base your opinion of me on such foundationless hatred, Queen Meira.”
