Eliza’s gaze lingers for a beat too long before she picks up her cup and blows on the steaming liquid.
I clear my throat, sparing a look at the guards in every corner of the garden. When I told Marik I wanted to invite the teacher back, he initially dismissed the idea with an apathetic denial. Later, he came back to my wing and said that Cora said it would be a good idea, a good look for the High Crown. I swallowed the retort that rose, something about him being spineless.
I should’ve known he wouldn’t allow me to meet with her alone. We had more privacy when she was locked in the dungeons. Eliza doesn’t miss my glance to the guards. If she picks up on the reminder that we’re being watched, she doesn’t acknowledge it.
Steam wafts from my teacup, and I hold it in my hand, relishing in the warmth it provides. “I invited you here to discuss our education policies,” I say, again, trying with all my might to come across as inviting and friendly. Even though I want to grab the butter knife and jam it into my throat.
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” Eliza says, a regretful smile on her delicate features. “I’m not exactly well-versed in the kingdom’s education policies.”
It’s a lie. Eliza continues to get more interesting.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I reassure her. “I’m not expecting you to be. I want to learn how we can help you as a teacher. How we can change our policies to make your life easier. Teachers do so much for the kingdom, and I want to ensure we’re taking care of you.”
She gives me a tight smile. “That is a wonderful first policy change for a new High Queen.”
“Yes, well, as you may or may not know, my aunt homeschooled me. It’s important to me that I learn more about your experience in the school system because it’s so unfamiliar to me.”
I swallow the hatred I feel at the mention of my fake aunt, who’s actually Mae’s fake aunt, who’s actually Cora, the First Witch.
“Yes, I knew that,” she says, her blue eyes piercing mine. Truth.
I resist the urge to shake my head to wave off the sudden intensity of her gaze. She stares at me expectantly. But I’m not sure what she’s looking for.
Her gaze cuts to the guards, then back to me. “I am aware of Mae’s—of your—history.”
Truth.
I narrow my eyes for a moment, then remember myself, and paste a smile to my face. It feels like there’s something I’m missing. I go out on a limb. “You seem so familiar to me. Have we met before? I mean, before the tithe?”
She smiles—a real smile this time. “Yes, Your Highness. We have. We’ve spoken before. Many times.” Truth. She grabs a lock of her brown hair. “My hair’s normally darker than this. It’s grown quite a bit, so maybe you don’t recognize me.”
Underneath the table, I ball my hands into fists. I don’t know what idiotic plan I had in asking her to join me. I have no idea who Mae knows or doesn’t know.
“When did we meet?” I ask.
She considers this as she takes another sip of her tea, her eyes flitting back to the guards in each corner. She appears to be as aware of the guards as I am. Eliza is hiding something. I just don’t know what.
She sets her cup down on the saucer and says, “It was a long time ago. But more recently, I also had the pleasure of meeting your companion. What was her name, with the red hair?”
My pulse quickens. Although her words are casual, she watches me like she’s trying to drill a hole into my brain with her mind.
Her mannerisms…her tone…
“She brought you to meet my brother. Months ago.”
I turn the words over in my head. She—Elle—I—brought Mae to meet her brother…I purse my lips as my mind fumbles, scrambles to put the pieces together. “What’s your brother’s name?”
She brings the cup to her lips, a smirk on her face as she takes a tiny sip. Her eyes don’t leave mine as she gives me a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. Wrong question.
“How old is your brother?” I ask quietly, sparing a glance at the guards. They stand stock-still, black statues in a garden of roses.
Eliza watches me carefully. Her next words ring of truth.
“He’s my twin.”
My heart slams in my chest. I sit up straight, realization spreading through my body like an electric current. I pick up my cup of tea and bring it slowly to my lips as I think through myresponse. My hands shake. If I’m right, Eliza is wearing a sigil, too.
If I’m right, Eliza isn’t Eliza at all.
