“—it is the dragons.” Aveline lifted the front of her golden dress, which hugged her curves and fanned out around her legs, and descended the dais stairs. “The Langlish, yes, but thedragons.I thought I was clear that each guest was allowed a small retinue, including guards. I thought there would be only one dragon, the commander’s dragon. Instead, I am trapped in the position of seeming weak for not preparing for this loophole to be exploited, or cruel for sanctioning this so soon after the war. Every time I think I have a handle on ruling, I am proven laughably wrong.” She paused at the bottom, taking a deep breath. “Sorry to—”
“No, it’s all right,” said Elara quickly. “I can—I’m happy to listen.”
There was such a long silence that Elara could practicallyfeelAveline worrying that she’d said too much to the wrong person. But her need to vent eventually outweighed her need to keep everyone at a distance.
“The Summit hasn’t even begun, and I’ve already been asked twice if I’m willing to loan out the Empyrean for independent contracts like a mercenary. I’ve been promised a trade agreement only if I agree to a marriage. He brought a ring with him already, so confident was he that I would accept and cancel any other negotiation. And I’ve been remindedcountless timesthat I’m at least fifteen years younger than any other ruler in this building or in Nova. I’m irritated, I’m tired, and I’m playing political games with people who were born studying the rule book.” Her eyes were flaming coals as they bored into Elara. “The last thing I need is any moresurprisesfrom you or your sister. Everything has to go perfectly, Elara. I need to know that you’re going to be where you say you are. That you’re going to be who I think you are. At least until the end of this week.”
Guilt flared to life in her stomach. “Aveline, I didn’t mean to—”
“I know you didn’t.” Aveline’s hands came to rest on Elara’sshoulders. “If you want to stay enlisted in the Iryan Military Forces, I support you. Please don’t mistake this for disapproval. I think you are more than capable of doing anything you put your mind to, and I’m well aware that it is selfish of me to ask you to pause that dream for me and your sister. But if you want to serve this country, to serve me, then here is where you’re most needed.”
Elara was silent, tears gathering from the simple belief in Aveline’s eyes. Would she still have that faith if she knew that Elara had wanted to become a drake pilot and failed? Would she still think Elara capable if she said no, turned around, and returned to her squad in the city?
Watching her sister, taking care of her sister, protecting her sister, protecting peoplefromher sister… maybe it wasn’t a paying job or the calling that she would have chosen. But she was good at it, and people depended on her to be that person. The mature one. The reliable one.
Maybe she could pause her dreams for a little bit longer.
Elara reached up to place a hand on Aveline’s wrist with a reassuring smile. “Whatever you need.”
“Thank you.Thank you,” Aveline said, practically sinking with relief. She was an inch taller than Elara, but in that moment, they felt like equals. After all, who else could reassure the queen of an entire country just by existing? “The Queenshield outside will show you to your room. I’ll have your clothing sent up.” Aveline took a step back, her hands once again clasped before her, and raised her chin without a trace of emotion left behind. “I will see you tonight, Miss Vincent.”
Elara dipped into a bow. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
FARON
EVEN WITHELARA RESTORED TO HER SIDE,FARON WISHED SHEhadn’t come to the Summit. Donning the costume of the Childe Empyrean was harder now in peacetime, and she wondered how long it would take someone to realize she always felt like a fraud.
Aveline had her in a floor-length chain mail–like dress that evoked the armor she wore in every depiction of her across the island. Her shoulders were covered by a studded silver bevor, a thin collar at the base of her neck that expanded outward in an inverted half circle to cover the top of her chest. The pauldron extended in four lames down her arms and ended in shimmering silver sleeves that looked as if they could be a part of her dress. Palace servants had woven her box braids into a side ponytail to complete the look, but they had mercifully allowed Faron to do her own makeup.
Even so, she felt more like an ornament than a person, and the stares from the surrounding crowd were not helping.
Calm down, she told herself as another servant nearly twisted their neck to keep their eyes on her as they passed with a tray ofwhite rum in crystal tumblers.It’s just one week, and then you can go home. Think of something else. Anything else.
Behind her was a line of windows carrying the twin scents of seaweed and ocean salt on the breeze. The eggshell curtains brushed her arm with each exhale of the wind, as gentle as a mother’s touch.Hermother was probably pacing the floors back in Deadegg, worrying the way she always did when Faron and Elara were out of her sight. There weren’t enough astral messages in the world that could take that look out of her eyes now. That look saying,This might be the last time I see you alive, and I want to memorize every moment.
No. She couldn’t think about that.
Instead, Faron inhaled the scent of the food that lined the tables to her left and right. Oh, thefood. She could smell steamed red snapper stuffed with seasoned callaloo and cocooned by white rice. She could smell chicken glittering with dark jerk sauce. She could even smell braised oxtail pieces that swam in a black pepper sauce she longed to taste. Reeve and Elara were by those tables, her sister a sight in a bronze dress with flared sleeves and black buttons, both of them laughing over their full plates. Faron longed to join them, if only to use their bodies as shields against the endless stares.
But the Summit would not be ignored. Everywhere, she could hear conversations that could make or break her floundering new nation.
The banquet hall was filled with diplomats from the eastern continent of Nova, where the now-defunct countries there had been divvied up among three world powers: Langley, Joya del Mar, and Étolia. The few autonomous states in Nova were payingdues to the nearest empire to retain that autonomy. San Irie had fought for decades for its independence from Langley, the latest of the empires to steal the island’s resources. And now the Langlish had come to shake hands with and pay respect to a nation that, five years ago, they had considered a neighborhood of their own.
Faron knew nothing of diplomacy, but she knew more than she wanted to about war. Every dignitary in this room was a predator sniffing their island prey for any sign of weakness. She refused to be that weakness, not here and not now, butshe wanted to take this godsdamned outfit off.
No sooner had she reached up to adjust the collar than Reeve Warwick melted out of the crowd. He’d been stuffed into clothes that were more practical for the occasion: a newly tailored navy pinstripe suit with a silver tie that brought out lighter flecks in his bizarre blue eyes. His dark hair was slicked back, a single comma of a curl loose by his side part.
He looked mature and confident, someone to be taken seriously. She just looked like a child playing dress-up.
“What do you want?” Faron grumbled.
“To present a united front, of course.”
“No, seriously, what do you want?”
“You seem about ready to jump out the window,” Reeve admitted. “Elara sent me to stop you.”
