He was right about that.
But...
Finally, Ravanna’s door opened, and she stepped into the hall truly wrapped in a black fur cloak that looked almost as heavy as she was. At the looks of surprise from around the corridor, she tilted her chin higher and tugged her cloak around her shoulders more tightly. “I will never survive this damp land,” she told us by way of explanation. “There is not a fire hot enough in this entire kingdom to chase away this chill.”
I looked back at Anton and watched his eyes go wide. It might not be believable for Katrinka to be filled with black magic. But it was much easier to believe someone as dark and cold as Ravanna Presydia could be.
A shiver rocked through me at the thought, and I wished I was as brave as Ravanna to wear my cloak to breakfast.
So what did that say about me?
Was I too full of black magic? Had the goblin wind sunk under my skin and twined through my bones?
The old way is the true way.
The words came unbidden into my thoughts. What was the old way exactly? Black magic? Or something more? Something that was not quite so damnable?
Anton leaned forward and whispered, “My father will never let Andre marry her. Not without a suggestion from someone powerful.”
He meant me.
We began walking toward the way we’d come last night, but he and I lingered behind so we could continue our secret sharing in private.
“Why did you not come to Elysia? If your father wants Alexi to try for consort?”
Anton snorted. “My father is a greedy man, but he’s also proud. He thinks parading his sons around in front of you is beneath him.”
“Ah. So he brought us here instead to parade me around in front of them.”
He grinned again. “I did not think you’d make a good queen at first. But maybe I’m starting to change my mind.”
I had not expected to like anyone in Barstus. I was glad Anton had changedmymind. I was also beginning to understand why Katrinka hadn’t wanted to leave this place for the unknown in Elysia. In the wake of our tragedy, she’d been surrounded by protective brothers with whom she shared genuine affection.
She also might have been afflicted with a goblin’s curse for the last nine years, but it was a small nuisance compared to the happiness she’d been given.
My time in Heprin had been equally filled with affectation. But maybe not as much happiness.
I thought back to the long hours in the library and the punishing lessons Father Garius put me through. He had not thought to marry me off to a rich noble. He had always known I was destined for the throne, and he’d done his best to prepare me.
Now, able to look back, I was incredibly grateful for the time and effort he’d poured into my training. But my first impression of Heprin had been bleak. Used to rowdy brothers and constant companions, the silence of the Temple had been a stark contrast to my life with my family.
It wasn’t just that I’d lost those most cherished and was suddenly alone. It was that I’d left a life brimming over with love and loud affection and been thrust into an unknown and silent new world.
The monks were always kind, but they were not doting until much later in my life. And while I never went without at the Temple, I was also not spoiled, pampered, or coddled. I learned to do whatever I needed done on my own. And more than that, I learned to carry the communal share of burdens.
I did not leave one family for another. My family, and my happiness, were stolen from me. And I’d had to claw and fight my way back to any kind of meaningful relationship with other people. By the time I left the Temple, I knew those that lived there to be beloved. But it was a long, arduous journey from loneliness to friendship. From mere nuisance to precious sister.
But that journey had also given me Oliver.
And he was worth so much more than a whole kingdom of affectionate but fake brothers.
In the breakfast room, Maksim and Oleska were already sitting at the heads of a long table crafted from iron and laden with a breakfast spread. Gargoyles decorated this room as well, from the legs of the table to the backs of the iron chairs, to the knobs on the curtain rods where draperies had been pulled back to reveal a dark morning of steady rainfall and crackling thunder.
A herald announced us as we largely ignored him and found seats around the table. The food smelled fishy. And looked as gray as the landscape through the wet windowpane.
We’d mixed up again. Alexi sat to my right. The youngest of the brothers, Ashka, sat to my left. His head barely reached over the lip of the table, and he had to continually push his wild Zolotov hair out of his face while he waited to be served with a fork in one hand and a sharp-looking knife in the other.
Examining Maksim at the other end of the table, I had to believe the unruly locks came from their mother. She had her long blond hair wrapped in braids this morning, but there were signs that her mane would be as untamable as her sons. A loose curl here. A halo of frizz. She was a striking woman, but Queen of Barstus ensured she remained composed and mostly silent.
