“I would. For you.”
Ferisa’s eyes were two windows into burning darkness. She nodded. “Two more days. And then it’ll be over.”
• • •
The queen wasan early riser, and by the time Melia had made herself presentable and rushed to the royal chambers, the ladies had already gathered, whispering furiously. The queen was dressed in somber sea green silk, her hair braided and covered with a white veil as fine as a spider’s web. Melia couldn’t decide if she looked paler than usual—her complexion was always pearl white and translucent—but this morning, her eyes were red.
They were gathered in the garden chamber, surrounded by fantastic tapestries depicting plants and flowers with imaginary beasts stalking among them. It was a room for receiving guests, for showing off.
“Your Majesty, the Seragian ambassadress is here,” a maid said.
“How dare they show their face at court?” Lenka muttered in the background.
“I hope they’re here to apologize,” another lady added.
“Shush!” The queen glared at the ladies. “Sit down and pretend to do something useful. I don’t want to hear a single sigh from any of you, let alone a comment.”
The ladies plopped down on their cushions as one and picked up their books, their sewing and embroidery. Melia kept her fingers busy with a misshapen bit of lace she was unsuccessfully trying to make, but her eyes wandered to the door.
She’d never seen a highborn Seragian before, and although she knew it couldn’t be true, her brain still expected to see a slightly upgraded version of the border tribeswomen: dark skin, head wrapped in a scarf, loose woolen coat, baggy trousers.
“Ambassadress Dorosia of Seragia,” a servant announced.
The woman who entered was tall, almost a head taller than the queen, and twice as wide, draped in mahogany brocade ina fashion Melia had never seen before. The high-collared jacket with puffed sleeves was cinched at the waist, and the stiff, ankle-length skirt was split in the middle, revealing baggy silk trousers gathered in at the ankle and gold-embossed leather shoes. The woman’s face, round and smooth, with a complexion lighter than Melia’s, put her age anywhere between thirty and fifty, and her henna-red hair, falling in a long braid down her back, showed no grays.
“Your Majesty.” The ambassadress knelt before the queen.
“Ambassadress Dorosia.” The queen, sitting in an ivory-inlaid chair, motioned at a cushioned bench before her. “Please sit down.”
A lady rushed in and set down a steaming teapot with two painted porcelain cups and a silver tray filled with assorted sweets on a low table between them like a peace offering.
“How is Prince Amron?” The ambassadress’s voice was filled with concern, her Amrian perfect.
“Bruised but not injured, thanks to the king’s guard.” Clipped, cold. “They’re looking for the culprits, but their search would be more efficient if you helped us.”
“Your Majesty, the embassy’s resources are at your disposal.” The ambassadress emphasized her words with a light bow. “However, we have no idea who they might be. Since we heard of the attack, my staff has been tirelessly going through the records of every Seragian subject in Abia. They found nothing suspicious. Just merchants and diplomats preparing for the wedding, all vetted by the ministry. Could it be possible that they weren’t actually Seragian?”
“A very convenient theory for you,” the queen said, pouring the tea, “but no. Their clothes were genuine and so was their language. My son spent six months at the border, he speaks Seragian and knows the local people. These were frontiersmen, Ambassadress.”
“Indeed. But were theyourfrontiersmen?”
Melia’s heart missed a beat and the queen’s cup paused halfway to her mouth.
“You’re not suggesting that Elmarrans would dress as Seragians and attack their own prince?” The queen’s tone was incredulous, but the very fact that she said it out loud made Melia focus on her handiwork, hiding her face from the queen. “Shall we ask Roderi of Elmar what he thinks about that?”
Queen Orsiana was close, so close.
How had her father persuaded the men to pose as Seragians? Had Ferisa forced them somehow? Drugged them?
“It is in your interest to find them as much as it is in ours,” the queen continued. “Our guards did their duty, now it’s your turn.”
“I am highly motivated to deal with that before the emperor finds out, Your Majesty,” the ambassadress said. “But in the meantime, I’m baffled by the party the crown prince organized in that house of ill repute, putting himself and his guests at risk.”
The queen gently lowered her cup to the table. “I don’t think I have to explain pleasure houses to a Seragian, do I?”
“Not at all. But the prince’s behavior seems reckless, impulsive, self-indulgent to the point of endangering others. It’s not the first time, either. We are worried about Carevna Aratea’s wellbeing.”
Melia was close enough to see the queen’s lips turn white. “A group of Seragians tried to kill my son last night, and you’re worried about the wellbeing of your carevna? I expected a defter spin from you, Ambassadress.”
