Yemi’s eyes flickered. This was likely a ploy, something to give her an excuse to leave without any bloodshed. But the dutiful daughter in her edged toward panic at the thought that maybe her mother’s illness had taken a turn.
She looked back at Nova, who was always ready for whatever she decided.
With effort, Yemi swallowed and turned back to Dahlia. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.”
“Do give the queen my best,” Dahlia said with a nod.
Yemi took her time heading to the door, each step heavy as if fighting against a current. What she wanted was the feel of Dahlia’s jaw crushed beneath her boot, ground into a stain on the dark wood floors.
And by the gods, she would have it.
Yemi rode much of the way seething in silence, ignoring Nova’s darting eyes checking on her in the side mirror.
Dahlia Drake.
Ixia was in its eighth consecutive year of peace, one of twelve in the last fifty. But their enemies had not been vanquished, and likely never would be as long as Mer blood was on the throne. It was likelythey were lying dormant now, biding their time until a new queen, someone less beloved than her dying martyr mother, came to power. It would be one thing if a bad day and too much drink had inspired a moment of treasonous chatter. Soldiers got drunk and said and did stupid things all the time.
But she couldn’t shake that image of Dahlia Drake, the calculated expression and her refusal to bow. The desire for connection she’d expressed earlier had been intended to place her perfectly to stab Yemi in the back. Yemi scoffed, furious with herself for having humored her and maddened by her own impotence. The growl in her throat became a long and powerful scream in the back seat of the car. It was the only way to keep her head from exploding.
Moss let her out inside the front gates, and Nova escorted her to the residence on the eastern side where her mother was supposedly waiting with dinner.
“I need names,” Yemi said quickly as they walked. “Any familiar faces, anyone we saw there with ties to nobility. Anyone we might reasonably expect to be invited to my mother’s Day of Days celebration.”
“Done.”
“Find out if the Drakes are the head of this snake. I want to be sure before I cut it off.”
Nova nodded as they reached the edge of their destination, but the dining room was empty of all except candlelight and a single cloche at Yemi’s seat. An attendant directed them instead to the southern gardens behind the palace.
Whatever Yemi felt about her mother’s compulsory family meals, it was alarming that she would cancel one. She and Nova marched silently and at a more urgent clip toward the rear of the palace. They found the queen tending her husband’s poppies, accompanied by two attendants. Yemi stood frozen in the archway until Nova squeezed her hand. It was so easy now to assume the worst. Panic had a way of seizing her, and it lingered in the face of any evidence that things were actually fine. For now, at least.
Yemi exhaled through her nose and nodded to Nova that she wasalright to be left alone. When Nova departed, Yemi stepped out into the garden and kissed her mother on the cheek.
“There you are,” the queen panted as she turned soil.
“What happened to dinner?”
“Couldn’t eat. You know my appetite these days.”
“You’ve seen Selah about it?”
“Sent for her. I expect her tomorrow. Fine in the meantime, though, trust me. Thing about stone is, it doesn’t require a whole lot of nutrition, does it?” The queen chuckled grimly.
Yemi flinched.
“So, how was it? Your never-ending quest for local color,” the queen began pleasantly enough, her eyes down on the tilling soil.
“Festive,” Yemi said plainly, taking a seat on a stone bench.
“Try again.” The queen’s eyes flicked upward.
Yemi sighed and met her mother’s gaze.
Here we go.
“I had a run-in with the Drakes.Insidethe Green Zone. I assume Cutter told you?”
“Of course he told me.”
