As I expected, there’s light escaping from under her door.
Meredy knocks, and when Valoria’s voice tells us to enter, we walk into a riot of colors, of drawings, diagrams, and heaps of wires and gears on workbenches.
I push aside the folded canvas top of an air balloon, something I’ve seen in this room before, to set down our offerings of wine and pie. Cursing, I realize I forgot to bring glasses.
Valoria, who has her back to us, raises her head at the sound but doesn’t turn.
“I could fix all this, you know,” she says wearily, by way of greeting. She’s gazing down at a tiny, perfect model of Grenwyr City. “If I had more time to work on my Dream City and actually start changing some things, the black fever wouldn’t have room to take hold the way it does now.”
“There are a lot of things I wish I could fix, too,” I tell her, though I know understanding can’t ease her guilt. Taking her arms, I gently pull her away from the Dream City, and Meredy raises her chin so we can look into our friend’s shadowed eyes.
“You saved me more than once when I was sick,” I tell Valoria, my voice growing more unsteady by the moment. “And now I want to help you.”
“I do, too,” Meredy agrees. She and Valoria went through a lot together in curing me of the calming potions that I couldn’t stop drinking after we lost Evander.
“I’m not sick, though.” Valoria’s gaze hardens. “And just because you feel you have some debt to repay doesn’t mean—”
“That’s not why we want to help you,” I cut in. Remembering something she said to me when she tried to drag me from my bed, not that long ago, I add, “It’s because that’s what friends do.”
Pulling off her glasses to wipe them on the sleeve of her gown—an old habit—she frowns at me and snaps, “Now you’re using my own words against me? Great.”
But her expression softens, and she allows Meredy and me to each take one of her hands and lead her over to the workbench where I set the wine and the pie. Grabbing our picnic supplies, the three of us sink down under the workbench like it’s our hideaway.
We eat pie with our fingers, share wine from one bottle, then the next, and gossip about how various palace residents must be spending the time waiting for the fever to pass. We talk about everythingfrom ideas for new hairstyles—even trying a few out on Meredy with hilarious results—to what gifts we most want this year for the Festival of Giving. We nearly render Valoria speechless by asking her about how she liked training for hand-to-hand combat with Jax, and she makes us giggle and give each other a private sort of smile when she asks what living together is like.
As we laugh at Valoria’s story about one of her meaner cousins accidentally flashing everyone in the throne room recently, she lowers the bottle of wine she was finishing. Her eyes brighter than usual, she says, “I needed this more than I realized. Needed to unwind, I mean.” She lets her head fall onto my shoulder and says in a small voice so unlike her own, “Don’t ever run off again.” She toys with a leather bracelet on Meredy’s wrist, one I bought her in Sarral, adding, “I can’t do this without you. Not that I need help. That’s not it.”
“Of course not,” Meredy and I chorus together.
I lean my head against my queen’s. “I love you, Valoria.” The words roll easily off my tongue after all that wine. And I mean them. But as soon as I say it, I can’t help but glance at Meredy, who gives another smile meant just for me. “We won’t leave again,” I add, refocusing my attention on Valoria. “Not unless you’re on board whatever ship we take.”
“That’s good news,” Valoria laughs, her breath warm against my hair. “We’ve been short on that lately. But who knows, maybe that’s all about to change...”
Yet as another day dawns, chasing away the warmth of wine and shared laughter with news of more death, hope is hard to find.
XVII
Three ravens arrive for Valoria over breakfast the next morning. “Ooh, I hope there’s something from Devran finally,” she whispers as the young messenger places three tidy scrolls on the table. True to his word, Devran has been able to keep most of the destruction and harassment of guards at bay, although according to Kasmira, Valoria’s last firepost was smashed to pieces and used in a bonfire the other night by those impatient for a tangible resolution.
Icouldwait to hear what news Valoria wishes to share as soon as she’s finished reading. Instead, I lean closer to her and read over her shoulder.
The first scroll is indeed from Devran, offering Valoria a report on the fever in his part of the city. There’s more to it than that, a whole second page that discusses the possibility of working citizens being selected for the royal council, but Valoria hastily sets it aside—to read later, I suppose—and opens the second scroll.
At this, she frowns right away.
“Who’s Empress Evaria?” I ask, sounding out the name. “Never heard of her.”
“She’s the ruler of a large country north and west of here. We’ve written once or twice,” Valoria answers quickly, her brow furrowing as she continues to stare at the parchment.
As I read on, I see why.
“The Ezorans have pulled out of Sarral and are now attacking her home,” Valoria explains unnecessarily. “She wants Karthia to send aid. I—I’ll think of something to tell her. She doesn’t know Karthia doesn’t have an army.”
“Yet,” I say firmly as gooseflesh spreads along my arms. I wonder what made the Ezorans tire of attacking Sarral. Were they driven back? Or have they found some vulnerable place that seems easier to conquer—someplace like Karthia? “Give us a little more time. We’re working on it.”
As Valoria opens the third scroll, I push my breakfast plate away, no longer hungry after hearing that the Ezorans are on the move.
“This one’s from the school,” Valoria tells me before I can peek over her shoulder again. Even though the old building is just a short walk away, she’s ordered that we send outside communications by letter to avoid potentially exposing ourselves to the fever.
