“It’s not as if it could make her more frivolous and silly,” Delphine cuts in with a tiny giggle. “And you have nothing to worry about. I have it on good authority that Elodie Tomasko was prancing about the queen’s salon this morning as if nothing was amiss.”
“Was she truly?”
“The queen’s attendants told me she looked even more rosy cheeked than usual. Undoubtedly a benefit of such deep sleep. Really, we’re doing her a favor.”
Delphine’s eyes meet mine, and I join in her giggling, unsure if I’m more grateful for the feel of laughter in my belly or the word she used.
We.
I’m no longer alone on this quest.
You’ve never been alone, Ro huffs indignantly.
You know what I mean.
No, I don’t, my sister argues, but I’m not in the mood for bickering. Not when I have a planter full of herbs to show Delphine— who actually seems to appreciate my efforts.
I grab Delphine’s sleeve and pull her through the hidden solarium door. “Come on. I have something I want to show you.”
If Rowenna protests, I don’t hear her over the sound of Delphine’s shrieks as delighted shriek when the blooming planter comes into view. Her hands fly to her mouth. “Indira! It’s space incredible! You did all of thistoday?”
She approaches the bed reverently, the way you would a sacred altar, and glides her palm across the tufts of lavender. It reminds me a bit of Alaric’s reaction to my work, but unlike my power-hungry husband, Delphine’s interest is selfless and sincere, her gratitude tangible.
“It’s nothing, really,” I say with a modest shrug. “Common plants are much easier to cultivate than bagrava. Here, help me harvest them. If we work quickly, we can have a medication ready for you to take to Cloudia tonight.”
I show Delphine how to run her fingers along the stalk to collect the fragrant buds, and once the bucket is filled, we begin grinding the lavender into a pulp.
“I want to know more about Cloudia,” I say as we work. “Not her illness, but who she is as a person—as your sister. I want to remember what it’s like to have someone who shares your blood and experiences. Someone who knows your worst qualities and darkest secrets, and loves you anyway.”
I glance down at the clover on my wrist and slowly trace the three round leaves. I miss Rowenna so much it hurts, but I’ve never been more frustrated with anyone in my life.
Delphine considers me thoughtfully before answering. “Cloudia is hilarious but also painfully shy, so few people get to see that side of her. And she’s brilliant with numbers. She started helping me with my lessons when she was only ten, and I’m ashamed to admit I was never as grateful as I should have been. But Cloudia didn’t hold it against me. She continued tutoring me—after only a bit of groveling on my part.”
I squeeze the reddish compound from the stamens of St. John’s wort into a jar. “She sounds lovely.”
“She is. Some might even say she’stoolovely—far too warm and gentle for this cold, inhospitable place. Our parents died in a mining accident when Cloudia was eleven and I was fourteen, so I’ve done everything in my power to shield and protect her since then.”
“As any good older sister would,” I say with reverence. “That’s exactly what Rowenna did for me. She spared me from attending council meetings after each Marauder attack, knowing the damage and loss of life would upset me. And she steered me away from toxic friendships with noble children who only wanted to befriend me for my status. Sheeven helped me make the best alliances among Father’s councilors, since I was always working in the fields and not privy to their hidden agendas.”
Delphine cocks her head and studies me with a furrowed brow. “I’m not sure that’s the same at all. The way you describe Rowenna…” Delphine bites her lip, choosing her words with care. “She sounds a bit manipulative.”
“Manipulative?” The word lands like a physical blow, and I reel back, shaking my head. “Ro could be bossy at times, but what older sister isn’t? I’m sure Cloudia would say the same about you. You just don’t understand because you’re the oldest.”
Delphine shrugs and musters a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you for sharing your perspective. You younger sisters can be a headache, but there’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you. No sacrifice too great.”
“And we younger sisters feel that devotion. It’s why we worship the ground you walk on—even if we don’t always show it. If we acted too grateful, we’d never hear the end of it. Older sisters can be completely insufferable, you know.”
Delphine laughs, and we continue trading memories as we grind the herbs into a simple sleeping draft. I’m not naïve enough to think it will work miracles, but even a slight improvement in Cloudia’s condition would feel like a victory.
But night after sleepless night, we’re met with failure.
I make every remedy I can recall our healers using and send them off with Delphine, along with a silent prayer to Earth Mother for success, but none help Cloudia’s condition in the slightest. And our slow and excruciating search of the abandoned mines is even more fraught.
Every few nights, we find a way to sneak up to the highest reaches of the mountain, but there’s nothing up there but depleted veins of silver and empty tunnels. And every time we leave the palace, our odds of being caught increase. One of these days, the guards will spot us scaling the turret. Or poor Elodie will keel over dead from therepeated drugging. Just yesterday, she was complaining of headaches in the queen’s salon. Or, most terrifying of all, King Soren will run out of patience.
I’ve managed to avoid him for the better part of the week by taking my meals in my chamber instead of the great hall and never venturing too close to his council rooms, but last night, my luck ran out. He sent a pair of guards to check my progress in the planting beds, and they nearly gave me a heart attack, pounding on my chamber door in the dead of night, demanding to know if I’d started cultivating bagrava, and reminding me, in no uncertain terms, what would happen to the mountains surrounding Tashir if I failed to produce something soon.
I huddled in the corner, biting my fist to stave off a scream. I was out of time. I would have to betray my people, Earth Mother, and the bagrava itself, and for what? So the courtiers could continue guzzling their tea? It didn’t make sense. Why was Soren so desperate to grow bagrava on the mountain if it didn’t directly benefit his power? There had to be more to it.
