My words were cutting and harsh. This wasn’t who I was. I didn’t offend just for the sake of offense. And I certainly didn’t allow myself to get caught up in palace intrigue by snotty princes with secret agendas.
But Caspian’s accusations against me ran too true to ignore. I wasn’t the child who played with him on the golden dunes all those years ago. I had evolved into something that survived her worst days and fought for a better realm. He too had changed since that easy childhood. He was more cruel bully now than playful friend. More sharp-tongued serpent than promising prince.
Barbarians, my father had called him and his brother. And while he was polished tonight, as well-dressed and handsome as any of his peers in a tunic the glittering color of the golden dunes of his homeland, it was only a thin veil over the untamed savage beneath.
He was more the brother who threw a shield with the intent to wound, to kill, than the mischievous troublemaker who held my hand and helped me to higher places.
Time and circumstance had changed us both.
But he answered my question. He lifted a bored finger and gestured to a replica of himself across the room. They could be twins save for the deeper wrinkles around Carrigan’s eyes and the scar that ran from his temple to his jaw on his left side. He wore a crown of pale gold with black vines wrapped around the thin band. The exact opposite of Caspian’s black crown with pale gold vines. “Already entertaining the room at large.”
It was true. It wasn’t just that Carrigan was older that set the brothers apart. It was Carrigan’s bright smile, his easy way with people, and his deep laughter that I could hear even over here. A woman watched him from a couple of seats away. She had the dark coloring of the Vorestran people. Her long black hair was separated into many braids, each wrapped in dozens of tiny gold rings. Both sides of her nose had gold rings as well, with chains that draped to her matching rings in her eyebrows and then again to the tops of her ears.
She was absolutely stunning. And she wore an even daintier crown, the feminine counterpart of Carrigan’s.
Confusion rang through me. I had only just met the king and queen of Vorestra at Conandra. And while I had not spoken to them, I had memorized their faces after long days and endless hours of trial and testimony.
“Is your father—”
“Dead,” Caspian answered before I could even fully form the question. “Over the winter. He grew suddenly ill and... died.”
“So your brother—”
“King,” he filled in again. I was annoyed that he kept answering my questions before I could ask them. But then again, I struggled to formulate coherent questions, so I couldn’t blame him entirely. “And his queen, Lady Amalia.”
“I’m so sorry,” I gasped, unsure what else to say. I felt his hot gaze on my face and realized how wrong my words sounded. “A-About your father, I mean. I... that... I know what it is to lose a parent suddenly. And I wish that on no one. I am deeply sorry for your loss.”
“My father wasn’t... a man I mourn.”
His sentiment was so final, so severe, I couldn’t help but turn to look at him. And with my gaze fully on his face, I found his light eyes staring intently at me. What did he mean by that? Was it what my father had suspected all those years ago? That King Akio was a man who pitted his sons against each other and delighted in their warfare?
Or was it something more? Something worse?
“Tessana,” my uncle’s voice beckoned from behind me. “I believe I have someone you would like to meet. Or rather, be reintroduced to.”
I should have taken a deep breath and prepared my mind and spirit. But Caspian’s haunted look and harsh words had knocked me off balance. And so, instead, I turned quickly to face my uncle, desperate to untangle myself from the messy court life of the Vorestran palace.
But when I turned, it was not my uncle I faced, but a mirror. Or rather a poor imitation of a mirror, as though the glass were slightly distorted. My eyes were bigger but hidden behind prim spectacles. And my mouth was smaller, lips plumper. My dark hair was curlier, springy coils pulled back into a severe bun that could neither restrain nor contain their sheer volume. And those eyes. Not my mother’s, but my father’s. Intelligent, keen, too insightful.
My mouth dried out as I tried to form words. Katrinka.
“May I present Tessana Allisand,” my uncle was saying. “Heir to the throne.” His voice was a blurred buzzing in my ears as I tried to make sense of the little girl I knew once upon a time and the nearly grown woman who stood before me. “Tessana, this is Katrinka Zolotov, of the house Barstus, adopted daughter to Maksim Zolotov, king defender of the Ice Mountains.”
I was surprised my uncle had memorized so many titles. And that he’d been willing to repeat them. But it gave me a short time to collect my thoughts before I attempted to stand.
My dress was too full, though. My heel caught on my skirts, and the best I could manage without making a fool of myself was a hunched-over semi-curtsy.
Kat eyed me skeptically, a knowing look bringing her eyebrows together over her nose. “Pleased to meet you,” she said in a bored voice.
Meet me? I wanted to laugh, but I could tell by her very serious expression that laughing would not win me any favor with her. “Well,” I said in a gentle but firm voice. “We’re not exactly meeting for the first time, are we? We do know each other already, don’t we, sister?”
Her chin lifted defiantly, and I realized my worst fears were coming true. “Do we? It’s hard to understand what I knew since it has been so many years since I saw you last.”
Well, she wasn’t wrong. “It has been,” I said sincerely, fudging the truth with actual truth. “I am relieved to see you healthy, Katrinka.” What I really meant was I was relieved to see her alive, not dead. “But I can hardly believe you were in Barstus this whole time. Unbelievable almost. Isn’t it?”
She held my gaze, a coldness shifting her expression in a way I didn’t expect. Especially not from a sister I remember being beloved. “As unbelievable as a monk squirreling you away in Heprin, I suppose.”
She had a point. But the flat way she delivered it made a chill scurry down my spine. Was this the sister I had left behind? Or had tragedy and time made her a total stranger?
