Her cheeks flushed.
“Well.” She moved to the tray, picking up a raspberry and popping it into her mouth. “Thank you.”
I watched her eat, oddly satisfied by the pleasure she took in the food. She noticed the daisy, touched its petals, but said nothing.
“So,” she said after a moment, “are you going to tell me what happened after you left me last night? Or do I need to piece it together from the terrified glances of your advisors and family this morning?”
“You’ve seen them?”
“I took an early walk in the gardens. I couldn’t miss them cringing in dark corners.”
My laugh burst out, startling us both.
“As for last night,” I leaned against the edge of the table, “I clarified certain expectations.”
“Mmm.” She poured and took a sip of her tea, regarding me over the cup’s rim. “And these expectations involved…?”
“Respect for the queen.”
“Ah.” She set down the cup. “And your aunt?”
“Has been granted a month of reflection away from court.”
Cyrene nearly choked on a bite of pastry. “You banished her?”
“Temporarily.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of her disrespect.” I frowned. “Does that bother you?”
She considered, tilting her head. “No. It doesn’t. Though I’m surprised you went that far.”
“They needed to understand.”
“What, exactly?”
I held her gaze. “That you are my queen. That anyone who forgets it answers to me.”
The air between us thickened, charged with something neither of us was ready to name.
She broke it first, clearing her throat. “Well, you certainly made an impression. Cordelia said that half the court couldn’t sleep last night. They were convinced your shadows would crawl under their doors and strangle them.”
My smile came out thin. “A creative but unnecessary concern.”
“So you say.” She studied me. “Was there shouting involved?”
“I never shout.”
“Right. The deadly whisper is much more effective.” She lowered her voice, mimicking me. “I’m not angry, just disappointed. And also, you might wake up entombed in shadows if you misbehave.”
My laugh burst out again. Twice in one morning. That was more than I’d laughed in months. Years, probably. “Is that your impression of me?”
“It’s fairly accurate, right?” She grinned but quickly sobered. “Thank you for defending me.”
“It was nothing,” I said.
“It wasn’t nothing.” Her eyes held mine. “Not to me.”
