“Coming,” I assured him in a low voice and picked up my pace. It would do no good for me to get caught listening to Tyrn’s private conversation. But what was getting worse? I knew what the sound from the royal suites was. But what about the vase?
That must have been the commotion that called the guards’ attention. I had assumed clumsiness. A dark hallway, tired guards, midnight hours... accidents were bound to happen occasionally.
So why were Ravanna and Tyrn so concerned? And why could sounds from the royal suites cause them to worry so?
I mulled over these questions while Clesta dressed me for the evening. Another special design by the master dressmaker. Tonight I would sparkle like an Elysian diamond in brilliant silver with white lace detail. My skirts were so full and long I worried I wouldn’t be able to fit through doorways. And the design was much more mature than my usual attire. Lowcut necklines and tightly fitted bodices.
As I finished applying kohl to the corners of my eyes and brushed on a bit of rouge and matching lip color, I tried to make sense of the woman staring back at me in the mirror. My hair was down again—a sign of youth still rather than adulthood—but Clesta and I had decided it was best to stick to styles we could control rather than have something tall and complicated come loose halfway through the soup course.
She had pulled the front back and made a net of complicated braids over my wild curls. I had been afraid I would look like a child playing dress-up. But the overall effect was startling.
I was half feral, half tamed. Half wildling straight from the Blood Woods, half curated princess. I was the heir to the Seat of Power and an orphan raised by silent monks. I had never felt more like myself.
Not the person I was trying to be. Or the person I had been in secret. But the person I was today. New to this world and not. Fresh from a different way of life and struggling to find her place in this one. Both princess and peasant. Royal and free.
Both not yet queen and also already.
A knock on my door pulled me from my musings. I had just finished the final touches to my look and was mentally preparing for a stately dinner that would include monarchs from all Nine Kingdoms. I was already bored and tired. But such was life as a royal.
Clesta opened the door, and Oliver walked in looking as put together as I’d ever seen him. He knew it as well because he couldn’t help but show off with a peacock strut around the room that ended in a playful hop and click of the heels.
“Not so monkish now, am I?” he asked with a grin.
“My uncle must truly be concerned about Elysia’s image if he’s willing to go so far as to erase all Heprin monk from you.”
Oliver’s shoulders slumped. “Not all Heprin monk, I hope.”
I smiled gently and stepped over to him so I could brush a piece of lint from his blue velvet coat. His silver tunic beneath boasted ruffled cuffs and a frilly collar that reached up to his chin. Polished black boots covered matching velvety leggings. Even his buttons gleamed with silver velvet coverings.
His monkish hairstyle had grown out over the past several months. Someone, whom I highly doubted was Oliver, had slicked it straight back, exposing a rather largely proportioned forehead I had only ever seen if we’d escaped the Temple and gone swimming on especially hot days. It was longer than his normal priestly style, touching his jacket collar in the back and tucking behind his ears. The light-brown color had been darkened to almost black with whatever they’d used to keep it in place. But the look surprisingly worked for him. He somehow managed to maintain his inherited innocence from the Brotherhood while also appearing refined... gentlemanly.
Still, I could see the worry crinkling the corners of his eyes. He was happy to look handsome tonight but feared losing his Heprin roots. He wanted to fit in during a dinner where all Nine Kingdoms would be represented, but he was also afraid of becoming too attached to the capital.
I pressed my palm briefly against his cheek. “Not all Heprin, of course. You’re a fine representative of your homeland, Oliver. And need I remind you? You could still choose to be silent whenever you wished as well. Father Garius would be so proud.”
“It feels strange,” he said, a melancholy tone to his voice, not even bothering to bite my taunting words, “to be so far from home that home has started to feel less like home and more like a memory.”
Guilt panged through me. Oliver and I had never discussed what his future would be in Sarasonet. All those months ago, it hadn’t seemed worth it when merely crossing the border into Elysia had felt so impossible. But now that we were here and I was making myself at home, did Oliver also want to? Or did he prefer to return to the Temple of Eternal Light and officially take his vow of silence? Did he want to continue his training? His life as a monk?
I held his gaze, letting him see the sincerity in mine. “Do you wish to go back? To Heprin, I mean? Do you wish to have your quiet monk life back?”
His smile wobbled, sheepishly admitting he didn’t know his feelings quite as well as he’d like me to believe. “I don’t know what I want, Tessana. I’m not sure my future is back there. But I’m not sure it’s here either. What would I do if I stayed in this castle? I have no skills, no trade, no courtly education. I can tend chickens and milk cows and bake bread, but those positions are already occupied here. Back in Heprin, I was sure of my future, of what I would do with my life. Here, I am only your shadow.”
“You are not,” I insisted. “You are my friend. And if you choose to stay, you will be my chief advisor when I am queen. There will always be a place for you among my court.”
If possible, he looked even more pained. “That is a too generous offer, Tess. I could not accept.”
“Of course you can. Just like when we were children and you accepted Father Garius’s offer to give up your silent vows. I would have been lost without you back then. And I would be lost as queen without your sage advice now. It’s a lot to ask, but it’s also a necessary request.”
“Tess, I don’t—”
“You don’t have to decide anything yet. Today or even a year from now. But think about what you want. You, Oliver. Not what other people want for you. Me or Father Garius. Just whatyouwant and where you want to be and if it is even possible for you to give up speaking. All evidence points to the contrary.” I smiled to show him I was only teasing and patted his cheek twice.
His brows had furrowed together as he considered my proposition. “We should go to dinner,” he finally said. “Lest your uncle has me beheaded for holding up the meal.”
“Good idea.” We stepped apart, and I kissed Shiksa goodbye. Clesta was staying with her this evening since my uncle frowned on bringing pets to royal festivities. “See what a good advisor you’d make? You’re already doling out wisdom.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “If you need me to remind you to be punctual, you’re too far beyond my reach of influence. There is no hope for you after all.”
