“It never hurts to give a little.” She shrugs and takes a sugar cube for her tea. She’s so gentle, dainty even. How does she have a sister as vicious as Gwenarie?
“Right.” I nod and take my own tea as the hushed voices around us begin to grow again. I can feel their eyes on me, but no one approaches—and no one threatens to drown me, so I’m making progress. Speaking of high fae who hate me, I ask, “So, where’s your sister?”
“She refused to come.” She winces regretfully. “Gwenarie can be difficult sometimes, but she’s had her heart set on Solano for so long that any other female is going to give her fits. It’s understandable.”
I can’t exactly agree, but I do understand her point, so I just sip my tea. It’s sort of minty and refreshing.
“Gwen was promised the crown. Promised Solano.” She stirs her tea slowly. “And she would make a good queen for the nobles and the high fae. The status quo would be maintained. Gwen is very much like our mother—they both believe in the old ways.”
“You don’t?”
She stops stirring. “I feel the realm would be better off with a leader who understands that the old ways aren’t always the best ways.”
I digest her words, but I’m not quite sure what she means. More than that, I’m surprised that, despite her gentle mien, there’s a mind beneath. One that seems to think more about the crown and the realm than many of the other nobles in this room.
“But enough of Gwen.” She smiles and sips her tea. “I heard you’re being painted for the traditional consort portrait. Are you enjoying it?” She tucks a blonde curl behind her pointed ear.
“I am.” I take another sip. “I can’t exactly tell what the artist is doing, but I’m sure it will be lovely when it’s done.”
“You have an eye for art?” She folds her small hands on the table, her light pink dress demure yet frilly at the same time.
“I wouldn’t go so far as saying I have an eye. I like to paint and draw, but I don’t have any real talent.”
“If you have the nerve to put a brush to canvas, then I’d say you have some talent.” She smiles.
“Do you paint?” I gesture toward her fingernails that are stained with a little bit of purple on the tips.
She pulls them away and places them in her lap. “Oh no, I wouldn’t even try it. I’m afraid my work would be laughed at.”
“Don’t be afraid.” I lean back, my tension finally flowing away as the other females seem to have gone back to their earlier intrigues. “High fae always seem to be good at most anything they try.”
She laughs, the sound warm. “I’m certainly not good at much. Gwenarie is the one with a talent for singing, playing the pianoforte, dancing, and of course, drawing—though her portraits are usually of herself.”
“Well, I for one, am shocked.” I join in her laughter. She isn’t like the others, at least she doesn’t seem to care what the nobles think of her. They keep their distance, but I can’t tell if it’s out of deference for Lunarie or fear of her sister.
“I know she seems difficult, but you must give her some room. I don’t know if you know, but she was promised the crown long ago by Solano’s father, and she is waiting as patiently as she can for the mate bond to form between she and Solano.”
“So she’s definitely his mate?”
Lunarie drops her gaze to her tea. “She believes so as does every soothsayer she’s consulted.”
I lower my voice. “But you aren’t sure?”
“I can’t say.” She shrugs. “But Gwenarie has never doubted it, so I won’t either.”
“You two are so different.” I’m still more than a little shocked at how kind Lunarie is being. It’s almost brave, given the way everyone else treats me.
“Not really. I’m just not quite as loud or pretty.” She doesn’t seem distressed by those differences. On the contrary, she smiles again and softens her voice to a nearly-inaudible whisper. “But my taste in art is certainly better.”
“A wild boast,” I tease.
“I was just speaking to the artist Brunilla the other day about having her paint my garden. My peonies are particularly beautiful this year.”
“Oh, Brunilla is the one doing my portrait.”
“She is? We move in the same circles, I see. And you’re lucky you have such an amazing artist. Her portraits are legendary.” She leans closer. “And she is wise, far wiser than most within the palace. Don’t give your trust to just anyone. So many here are vying for position and using secrets against each other, but I can vouch for Brunilla.”
I chew that one over. Brunilla doesn’t strike me as someone who would be close with Lunarie. After all, Brunilla’s the one who likes to point out that the high fae treat us as lower creatures. So why would she and Lunarie share confidences?
