I hand the sealed envelope to Sef. “Can you deliver this tonight? No need for theatrics.”
“Of course.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a stack of envelopes—missives for the Shadow Queen. “Trade?”
“Thank you.” I take the stack of letters, and Sef takes the note for Honorate Rishelvu. I flip open a second book, where I keep track of unsubstantiated rumors. My pen taps idly against the desk as I read.
Shadow Queen,
I’ve heard rumors Honorate Portannis is engaged in an affair with a married Petruvian. I can give you a name if you can ensure the order he is drafting fails.
It isn’t signed. They often aren’t. I jot down the potential affair to look into later, even though I doubt its validity.
Virdei and Petruvia have a strained relationship, to put it mildly. Virdei controls Mount Saidu and more than half of Ophera. Petruvia controls the coast and the rest of Ophera. The feud started around two hundred years ago, when both countries raced to take over the coastline. Petruvia won.
As Virdei licked their wounds, they moved farther up the mountain, where they realized it was full of resources even more valuable than the ocean: tshira and, most important,magic.
Before that, there were a few aikkari scattered throughout the two kingdoms, but there weren’t a lot until Virdei climbed higher up Mount Saidu.
War started again. This time, Virdei had an undeniable advantage and won. To this day, Petruvia claims Virdei cheated. According to them, the Republic resorted to cutting off the water supply to everyone below the mountain to ensure their victory. The details are unclear, but in the end, all that mattersis Virdei won the mountain, the tshira, and an army of aikkari soldiers no one else can compete with.
I open the next envelope.
Shadow Queen,
I have a maid who is Opheran. She claims she’s spotted Petruvian soldiers on her land with no consequence. If this is true, can you ensure the order to send more funding to Holsbane Academy passes?
I raise my brows at Sef, who reads over my shoulder. “Any chance this is true?”
“I haven’t heard anything,” Sef says. “But then again, my friends here are Virdeian. The only Opheran I know is, well, you.”
A fair point. Opherans aren’t meant to reside in these hallowed halls. I write down the tip before moving on to the next.
Shadow Queen,
Two days ago, I received a disturbing letter from someone purporting to be you. It seems you have a rival looking to replace you. Please advise.
I frown, more confused than wary. There’s a second scrap of parchment in the envelope, crumpled and creased as though it’s been unfolded and refolded multiple times. The second note is addressed to Honorate Selva Sixmen and scrawled in deep indigo ink.
Honorate Sixmen,
I wonder how much longer that title will apply? AnHonorate with noHonor is no longer deserving of hisposition. The stars see all, as do I. You and I both know there’s not enough snow on this mountain to wash your hands clean of the blood that stains them.
Fondly,
ShadowQueen
My breath catches in my throat.
I read the letter again. And again.
Over the years, I’ve written dozens of similar notes.
This one is signed by the Shadow Queen—byme—but I didn’t write it. It seems there’s a second queen of shadows roaming these halls.
CHAPTER SIX
VACANT SMILES
The Praeceptor’s personal dining room drips opulence. Walls made of tshira, streaked with bands of red, green, and gold, lined with black pillars. A six-tiered chandelier hangs over the dining table and its twenty-one seats. Only one head of the table gets a chair, because only one person is above the rest. It’s made of dark wood and cushioned with soft maroon velvet that I sink into. During the day, it belongs to Luc. This time of night, with no one around to see, it’s mine.
