QUINN
The hours ticked by with excruciating indolence. The gown itched. The corset pinched. The veil scratched my temple each time I turned my head—but none of that compared to the suffocating stillness of the air.
“I would like to take a turn about the gardens before the ceremony,” I announced.
Devronica glanced up from arranging the train of the dress for the hundredth occasion. “Unfortunately, milady, we have strict orders to keep you in your chambers until the ceremony begins.”
“To what end?”
“We cannot risk His Majesty seeing you in your gown.” Her too-broad smile wavered. “It’s bad luck.”
Bad luck?
A sharp laugh sliced from my lips. As if luck had any bearing on this day or had ever bothered to call upon me. Very well. If I could not wander the castle for risk of worsening my luck, surely I could seek freshened air. I crossed to the balcony doors and tugged, to no avail.
Devronica came to my side, lowering her voice. “All potential exits have been warded. To reduce the chances of…bad luck.”
I whipped my gaze to hers. “You mean to reduce the chances of me leaving.”
She paled. “To keep things from going awry.”
Rage flared hot and steady beneath my ribs. “I see,” I said, clipped and cool. “And you have no qualms disappointing your future queen—denying her the dignity of air and sunlight?”
“I serve at His Majesty’s pleasure, milady. Should you repeat the request tomorrow, I will see it granted.”
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, when the ink was dry and the chain forged in law and blood.
I swallowed the storm rising in my throat. “Fine. Then I will eat. I feel faint.”
She hesitated.
“In the dining hall,” I added.
Her throat bobbed. “I am afraid you’ll be served here, milady.” Devronica stepped subtly in front of the door, a seamstress turned guard. “A tray is on its way.”
“Let me guess,” I murmured. “For luck.”
A brittle laugh. “Yes. Exactly.”
My hands curled at my sides. “Tell me, Mistress Devronica, are you not angry?”
Her brows knit. “Milady?”
“That.” My gaze dropped to the mark of the ungifted upon her cheek. “Does it not anger and humiliate you to bear such a mark? Magical gifts or not, you and your attendants have proved to me that you are anything but ungifted. You fashioned this…astonishinggown in a matter of hours. You clothe the very monarch of this kingdom. Is that notgiftedin its own right?” My eyes darted between the women, hoping to convey my sincerity. “There are gifts we are born to and those we develop duringour lives. One should not be held in higher esteem than the other.”
Devronica’s hand rose to her cheek. “It is an honor to serve at His Majesty’s command.”
“Would it not be a greater honor,” I pressed, “If you were treated as equals?”
She looked as though I had struck her. “Your Grace,” she whispered, appalled. “I can’t wish for anything more than the kindness that has already been shown to us. We could’ve been exiled to the colony. Instead, we are permitted to remain and build lives in Aurillion.”
“I am not satisfied with scraps of privilege masquerading as respect. Nor am I swayed by essential humanity and dignity passing as honor.” Smoothing my hands down the front of the gown, I continued, “I do not wish to rule over a kingdom where any soul is regarded as lesser than another. How you are born should not preclude what you can achieve in life.”
I shook my head. “If I am to become queen, the barbaric practice of branding the ungifted will cease, as will the exorbitant taxes you have been made to pay. You deserve to be free.”
For a heartbeat, everyone froze.
