“You know what,” Nova chided.
“Why would I know what that means?Pleaseisn’t a directive.”
“Isn’t it?” said Cutter.
Yemi rolled her eyes and waited for her mother to disappear behind the closed doors of the chamber before turning to Cutter.
“I’d like to speak with the prisoners,” she said.
“That. She meant please don’tthat,” said Nova.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Cutter replied with a bit of a sigh, as if he’d known she’d ask and he’d have to refuse.
“Things get a little… sticky in the prisons where treason’s concerned,” Nova added.
“Before it gets sticky, then,” Yemi said.
“You make that request in front of the queen, and it will be my honor to oblige,” Cutter offered.
Yemi rolled her eyes. There was a reason she’d waited, after all. She was grown, of course, and could reasonably do anything she wanted. But it was one thing to have to crawl out from the shadow of your mother, and another thing to have to crawl out of the shadow of the queen.
“Thought not. The interrogators will retrieve everything we need. And I’m sure you’ll find a way to get access to that information when it comes out.” Cutter bowed.
“Hmm,” Yemi grunted, taking it as a challenge, then changed her tone to something almost downright chipper. “Well, if anyone has any mundane duties they need me to fulfill or news to share that I don’t have to sneak to get, I’ll be in my office.” Developing her pictures from the naval exercise would do to kill time, at least.
“I’m headed back downstairs. Go with her,” Cutter told Nova as if Yemi weren’t standing right there. “See if you can keep her out of trouble.”
Nova nodded, hiding a wry grin, and followed Yemi toward the west wing.
“You’re very good about accepting Cutter’s impossible missions,” Yemi told her.
“You know Illowé said the same thing? Only from her it’s definitely an insult, whereas yours only sounds kind of like one,” Nova replied.
Yemi laughed. Illowé was Nova’s twin and had a strong bohemian streak that predisposed her to a life of travel. They hadn’t seen her in person in years. “And how is our sister, the wandering artist?”
“Insufferable, mostly.”
“So the same as always.”
“Doubly so. She’s expecting.”
“No!” Yemi gasped. “With the… oh, who is it, the blacksmith?”
“Blacksmith was too much of a homebody. This one’s amastercartographer,” Nova said with a flourish.
“Suits her. Did they marry? Is she at least coming home for that or has she completely expatriated?”
“I guarantee she still wants the extravagant ceremony that comes with being friends with the queen.”
“She’d better. It’s basically one of two perks,” said Yemi.
The Rock’s library was the single most complete repository of the eastern world’s recorded history. Millions of volumes spanned four stories of towering slate shelves climbing walls curved to mimic scallop shells. The stacks were maintained by the Kept, but it had been her mother who had opened the library to the civilian journalists and academics, who were scattered at long tables, largely content to ignore her as she tried to speed by Brother Lain without his noticing.
“Ah!” said a familiar voice.
Shit,Yemi thought. The royal press secretary, Luc Derring, had joined Brother Lain at a middle table where they pored over what was clearly a copy of the day’s newspaper.
The two of them stood and bowed, though each clearly had a bone to pick with her.
