“Don’t be too coy. With nobles, rumors are snacks, and whispers are a feast. If you ingratiate yourself with anyone, offer a tasty morsel, butonlyin private—and always plead for secrecy. Bold honesty will only be assumed to be a ploy—it will get you nowhere with this herd.”
Then she’d ushered me into the room, introducing me to the women—whose names I’d already forgotten—and a few minuteslater, after showing mostly disdain, she was approached by a footman and excused herself for a moment, leaving me there.
All eyes had followed her out of the room, then returned to me. Now they peppered me with questions and comments that sounded like compliments, but I suspected were poisoned apples.
“It isn’t often that Diaan patrons a youth these days,” the woman with the fine, gold, ringlet curls said, staring at me like she expected attack.
“I… I’m very grateful,” I said quickly, licking my lips to wet them. “I asked for her assistance, and she was willing to give it. I’m honored.” I ducked my head and leaned forward to place my oversweet tea on the table between us, but I’d forgotten the corset. I could only bend at the waist and almost didn’t reach the tabletop with the saucer, so it clattered as it landed.
I winced.
One of the younger ones tittered.
Then they started talking about people I didn’t know—sharing morsels of that gossip the queen had mentioned. I sat there, listening, trying to mimic their posture, paying attention to the way they spoke—hushed and through predatory smiles when they believed the words would be well received, chins high and tone cold if they expected disapproval. It reminded me of the daughters of the wealthy farmers on Festival days, when they gathered to laugh and whisper together, though I imagined these women wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.
At some point, the young woman to my right leaned into my ear while her mother told a story to the others.
“I don’t like the tea, either,” she murmured under the level of the conversation.
“Oh! It’s quite nice, I just—”
“Don’t worry. No one likes tea as sweet as the queen, but we all put up with it because, well, she’squeen,”she said withan expression that suggested it could be deadly to do otherwise. “Although, sometimes I wonder if she only sweetens so much to see if we’ll speak up,” she added as an afterthought. “Have you had tea with her privately? Is it this sweet?”
It felt like the moment hung in the balance forever. As if I were staring, frozen—and surely she’d see my intention? Measure the lie? But then I made myself look aside as if I were checking to make sure no one else could hear us, then leaned a hair closer to her.
“We haven’t,” I said carefully. “But that’s because she’s stopped taking teaat all,”I said, then met her eyes before looking away and straightening, pretending to listen to the women on the other side of the table, while inwardly I begged her to take the bait.
She waited long enough that I thought for certain I’d misjudged, and she hadn’t taken my implication. But then she shifted her weight in her seat, leaned forward to pick up her cup from the table, then straightened, turning her head so that she whispered into my ear.
“Why would she stop takingtea?”
I waited a moment, eyeing the other women, before finding a reason to straighten my skirts and murmuring to her. “Not only tea.Everythingstrong. Because she’s not feeling well, though she’s so strong, she doesn’t wish for others to worry,” I said hurriedly. “I might suppose that’s why she was asked to leave the room, so no one would question. She suffers pain,” I said, surreptitiously brushing my stomach and nodding when her eyes dropped to my hand.
She nodded hurriedly. But apparently, the too-sweet tea wasn’t a deterrent as she sipped demurely.
But before I could warn her not to speak about it, a sharp gasp rose from the women across the small table and we both turned back to them. One of the women on the couch acrossfrom us snapped a fan wide and began fluttering it, as if to cool her cheeks, while the other raised her chin and took another sip from her saucer, but her eyes glinted.
“What is it, mother?” the woman next to me asked sweetly.
“Nothing dear. Nothing suitable for your ears.”
“Oh hush, Morna, as if you won’t repeat every word to her the moment we leave the room.” The woman in the chair to my left rolled her eyes and flapped a hand at the tight lipped, severe woman.
“It’s hardly my place to repeat such salacious tales among the youth—”
“Is it the queen’s… disquiet?” my new friend asked and I froze, then gulped at the too-sweet tea, wincing. I shot her a look to silence her, but then the other women stared at her, eyes widening either in shock, or avid curiosity.
“You were aware of that, dear?” Morna replied cautiously.
I felt my new friend’s gaze flick to the side of my face and wondered if she’d blow this all apart for me. But she raised her chin, then nodded. “There’s been talk for some time. I thought you knew.”
Her mother’s expression darkened, but the woman next to her gave her a look. “You see, I’m telling you that the king isn’t nearly as discreet as you believe. If even the young ones have figured it out, it’s only a matter of time until the lowborn are speaking of it.”
I’d been pretending to take another sip of the tea—keeping my lips closed so none of it touched my tongue. But I almost choked.
The king wasindiscreet?
While I wasn’t surprised, given the things Donavyn had told me about him, nerves skated down my spine. The queen hadn’t mentioned this.
