“Are you cold?” Altair asked, concern in his eyes as he leaned toward me.
“I’m always cold now that I’m here in the mountains.”
He stood. “Why didn’t you say so? I will have a seamstress brought in immediately to outfit you properly.”
I thought of the way everyone in the palace wore drab colors, and held out my hand to him. “Wait, do you think she could just make me a warm cloak or something? I would like to still wear my own clothes.” I had brought very little with me, but they were still mine.
“Of course. Whatever you would like. For now, here,” he said and began unbuttoning the fur-lined coat he wore, leaving him in a thinner shirt that hugged the lean muscles of his arms and chest. He shrugged out of it and draped it over my shoulders. The warmth from his body still clung to the material, and I immediately stopped shivering.
“Thank you,” I said as he opened my door and called for Raven.
“Yes, Majesty?” she said with a little bow, looking wide-eyed at being addressed by the emperor.
“Summon the seamstress for the future empress. She’s in need of warm clothes.”
“Right away,” she said and hurried off.
To me, he said, “I will have to take my leave of you now, but do not hesitate to ask me for anything else you need—or want.”
I started to take off his coat to give it back, but he touched my hand. “Keep it. I have many, and it will keep you warm until the seamstress can make you something.”
“Thank you,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. Who would have thought the enemy of my people would care about my comfort?
He bowed toward me and left, leaving me still wrapped in the warmth of his coat that smelled like allspice.
22
Zara
Days went by, and I saw no sign of either Talon or Altair. A new guard named Baz stood outside my room, leanly muscular with dark, closely cropped hair. He said very little, other than he would be temporarily taking over Talon’s guard duties. Despite what Altair had said, Baz seemed reluctant to accompany me anywhere other than the pasture.
As promised, though, the seamstress came and took my measurements for a warm cloak. An older lady in her sixties, she dressed in a simple gray dress with clean lines. Her movements were quick and efficient as she worked, writing each measurement down in a small notebook. She eyed my richly colored clothing with suspicion, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly.
“The cloak will be charcoal-gray wool with fur trim,” she said when she finished. “I will have your maidservant bring it to you as soon as it’s finished.”
“Thank you,” I said, and she bowed and immediately gathered up her things to leave.
I couldn’t help but think of what it was like when our own seamstresses measured us for clothing. Of laughing and talking,of choosing an array of colors, of consulting us with the styles and fabrics we would like. Here, there had been none of that. She had seemed like she wanted to spend as little time with me as possible.
Alone again, my thoughts turned to Ama. On my last night on the plains, Ama had told me that I must continue to try to access the earth magic inside me.
You will need the ability to shield yourself in the palace of our former enemies,she had said, taking my hands in hers.And healing is always a useful power.
I had promised I would continue our training while I was here. But every time I entered that place in my mind where power lay dormant, all I found was the connection to the wind. It waited closer to the surface of my mind than ever before. If anything, it grew stronger.
I thought about Ama now. Had she recovered? At least the treaty meant that she would no longer have to worry about the wards. Maybe her body could finally regain its strength.
In a desk in my room, there was thick, creamy paper. I decided to sit down and write to her, but as I stared at the blank page, my hand began to tremble. The shadowy creature in the throne room, the separation from Shazeera, the hostility from the nobles here all flashed through my mind. But then I remembered what Altair had said—that I would be expected to produce an heir—and I tore the letter into tiny pieces.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell her any of these concerns yet. To begin with, I had no way of knowing whether the Zephyrians would even deliver my letter. More importantly, I didn’t want to burden Ama with things she had no control over. How could she help me from two hundred miles away?
I started to write a new letter asking how Ama wasrecovering, but then I thought better of it. What if the Zephyrians—specifically Lord Heron—read my correspondence? I didn’t want anyone to know she was in a weakened state. That seemed like dangerous knowledge, treaty or no treaty.
Without Shazeera by my side to talk to, I felt more isolated than I ever had.
After nearly a week of little to no contact with anyone, Raven became my only outlet.
“You seem sad today, Future Empress,” she said one morning after bringing me tea and helping me try on my new cloak.
