I take a sip of tea, trying to keep my hand from shaking at hearing that. “It wasn’t that.” I know I should say more, but I’m struggling to think of a good lie. Instead, I turn the question on her. “Have you ever been in love?”
“A few times,” she says with half a smile. “You see that girl over there, the one with the baby?” She points to a woman around her age with dark hair holding a chubby little infant in her arms, trying to get him to drink something from a mug. “She ripped my heart out of my chest. I cursed Kerensa for about two years before I could stand to be in the same room as her.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“She married—where is he? Oh, there he is. That guy.” She points to a large man with a weird little beard that doesn’t cover his chin. Cornelius, the man who’d lost his shit when the hunt was called off.
“Adria said he’s an asshole.”
“He is. But he’ll inherit the lands and the title, and I never will.”
“I know the feeling,” I say. We’re both the youngest children in our families.
“Listen, you don’t have to tell me,” she says. “But judging by the way you two are looking at each other, it’s not over for good. Tell me what I can do to help. Do you want to make him jealous?”
“No!” I say a bit too forcefully. “No. I agree with you. It’s not over. I just…I just need a bit of time to think.”
“A distraction then,” she says, pointing to me with her pastry, her mouth half full. “The good news is the best festival is about to start.”
“I thought you’d be more into the Festival of Sport than the Arts, to be honest.”
“Are you kidding? This is thebeautyfestival. Have you seen the dancers? The acrobats? The theatre folks in their skimpy little costumes?”
I smile. “I do like music. I was thinking about joining the court band—”
“Oh hell no. No, Sylvie.” She looks at me like I’m insane for suggesting it. “That’s not for you. It’s all old people and quiet kids obsessed with patriotic songs. If you want to play, there’s a music competition that should be fun.”
“I don’t want to play on my own, though.”
“Getting sick of the attention?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Look, participating is fun and all, but it’s far more fun to just watch. Come on. Ronan is about to kick the whole thing off in the throne room. Then we can make a plan. You can at least stand to be in the room with him. That’s better than I could manage.”
I wasn’t planning to go to Ronan’s announcement of the Festival of Arts, but I let Quinn drag me along with her.Honestly, it feels good to have someone else decide what to do. And I’m sure I’ll appreciate the distraction, right after I watch the man I’m deeply conflicted about talk to his court like nothing is happening between us.
Ronan takes his time getting to the throne room to make the formal announcement. They’ve brought in benches this time since the room will be used for some of the performances, so at least we get to sit while we wait.
When Quinn and I take seats in the front row—at her insistence, though off to the side at mine—Zara comes over to join us. I realize I didn’t have a chance to mention my suspicions about poison to Ronan yet, and doing so now is going to be awkward.
Great.
“I heard you had quite the encounter with a rare animal last evening,” she says to me. I’m not surprised this news has reached her since it seems like nothing stays quiet for long in this palace. “I asked Ronan if we could collect some of its feathers. Not many, of course. But griffins are rarely encountered, and there could be much to learn from them.”
“Good luck,” I tell her. “He’s pretty attached to her.”
“He didn’t seem fond of the idea. I should have asked you first, it seems.”
When Zara looks away, Quinn gives me a look I can’t fully interpret. It seems like she doesn’t want me to tell Zara that something is going on between Ronan and me. Does she suspect something too? Or did Ronan tell her about Hermes, and that’s made her suspicious about all the alchemists, like I am?
I don’t get time to give it much thought because Ronan arrives then, and we all get on our feet to greet him. I’m reminded of the last time we were in this room when I watched someone die right beside me.
When I watched Taran kill him. Just as he’d killed my father.
Taran enters behind the king. His face is red, from embarrassment or exertion, I can’t say. It’s such a kind face. The Taran that killed the man beside me took no pleasure in it. His face was emotionless as he sliced through the man’s heart.
Was it the same when my father died?
