“Sit.” He gestures to the chair opposite. “You look like you’re going to faint or vomit, just like you did in Queen Tessa’s salon. That’s why I helped you. I’ve seen chickens on the chopping block look calmer than you among the courtiers.”
He offers a warm smile, but still I deflate with a huff. I tried so hard to be poised and calm among the Vanzadorian nobles—like Rowenna had been.
Clearly, I failed.
“I also have a soft spot for pretty damsels in distress,” Von Nevus adds with a playful wag of his eyebrows.
I know he’s just trying to lighten the mood, but it has the opposite effect. I’m done being manipulated by charming men.
“Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” I snap, “because I’mnotin distress.”
“Of course not. I’m glad we both agree you’re pretty, though.” He winks, and I sigh loudly.
“Believe it or not, I didn’t come here for idle flirtation.”
“You don’t say,” he says dryly. “Rowenna was clearly the fun sister.”
I narrow my eyes at him and channel my mother’s steady, imposing presence, trying to replicate the way she’d silently take charge of councilmeetings that slipped from Father’s grip. “What business did you have with my sister?” I ask again. “Why do you remember things about her that Queen Tessa and other courtiers don’t?”
Garitt slides languidly into his chair, legs draped over one armrest, and shakes his head at me. “So serious and unrelenting. Perhaps you and Alaricarea match made in heaven.”
Yesterday, this comment would have sent me through the roof. And I still don’t like or agree with it. But after my confrontation with Alaric in our solarium, Von Nevus’s insult feels more like a prodding finger than a gut punch.
“I won’t apologize for being incensed in the wake of my sister’s death,” I say. “And if you were truly Ro’s friend or ally or whatever you were to her, you wouldn’t be so cheery either.”
This makes Von Nevus bristle. Slowly, he swings to the front of his chair and leans his elbows on his knees. “People grieve in different ways, Little Ro. And maybe I’m not answering your questions because you haven’t asked nicely.”
I heave to my feet. “Forget it.”
“Fine, fine.” He waves me back down. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
I sit, arms crossed, glaring until he begins.
“As a member of King Soren’s council, I’m familiar with everyone in the royal household, of course, but your sister and I had a special relationship.”
It could be my imagination, but the way his lips curl around the wordspecialmakes my insides tighten.
“Specialhow?”
“I was her mentor, of sorts. Rowenna had such a keen interest in politics and government. She was curious about everything to do with Vanzador. She wanted to learn and contribute, so she could be an adept ruler alongside Alaric someday.
“On several occasions she asked to attend our council meetings, butKing Soren wouldn’t hear of it. To him, Rowenna was Tashiri and not to be trusted. He said she was a silly girl who belonged in the queen’s salon, not his council chambers. You can imagine how well that went over with Rowenna.”
Garitt’s eyes meet mine and I nod. Because finally—finally—thisdoessound like my sister: learning as much as possible about the inner workings of the Vanzadorian government, raising her voice, secretly scheming and fighting for Tashir.
“So you took her under your wing against the king’s wishes?” I raise a brow at Von Nevus. “Doesn’t that make you a traitor?”
He waves away the implication. “I knew Soren would have to accept Rowenna eventually. It’s not like she could escape back to Tashir—not if she valued the mountains protecting your fields—and someone needed to prepare her to be queen one day. While Soren may have blind faith and pride in his second son, the rest of us know Alaric was never born to rule like his older brother, Besnik. Luckily, Rowenna was just the sort of partner he needed. I simply came to this realization sooner than my colleagues and decided a little risk was worth the reward of being on the right side of Rowenna’s cunning mind.”
I study King Soren’s “trusted advisor” for a long minute, stunned by his audacity. He’s admitting to outright treason.
Von Nevus rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can see you’re just as narrow-minded as the rest of the council. I’m no traitor. I hardly divulged Vanzador’s most guarded secrets. I simply encouraged Ro to do some light reading in the library.”
“The library?” I deadpan.
I can count on one hand the number of times my sister visited the library in Tashir. She didn’t have time to read. She was action and resolve, instinct and confidence. The thought of her being here, in Vanzador, so close to Soren and Alaric’s power and secrets, and choosing to confine herself in the library feels as unnatural as a fox eatingcabbage beside a chicken coop.
“You could visit the library too,” Von Nevus says offhandedly. “It’s free and open to all…”
