“Not you, not Elia Lear.”
The princess offered a restrained shrug.
Aefa huffed, her entire body jerking as she clenched her fists and tried not to shove the puppies away so she could stand, offended on her mistress’sbehalf. With exaggerated care she removed several puppies and got to her feet, allowing the last two to roll off the hem of her skirt. “Aren’t you angry?”
Elia glanced at her hand, fingers dug into the silky ruff of a puppy. It wiggled, and she released it, drawing her hand more gently down its short spine. “What good will anger do?” she asked quietly, eyes down.
“It’s something! Get you on your feet and fighting!”
“Fight? Fightwhat?” She raised her gaze to Aefa, whose cheeks were round, flushed cherries. “My frightening sisters? My father’s madness?”
“I can’t tell you what to do. A princess outranks her maid.”
“There’s no such difference between us any longer, Aefa.”
The Fool’s daughter planted her fists to keep from flinging them up or tearing at her hair. “Don’t pity yourself, Elia. I won’t tolerate that.”
Elia’s brow tightened, then she said, “It’s only the truth, which you hold so dear. I’m not a princess. My father, who was the king, said so.”
“Do you truly believe that? And would it matter? Your father could tell me that I’m not my own father’s daughter, but nobody can change my birth. He can strip mynameaway, perhaps in Innis Lear at least, but he can’t changeme.”
“I am changed, though,” Elia murmured, hardly moving her lips.
“How?”
“I… I’ve lost something. Something that made me know myself.”
“You hardly smile anymore.” Aefa dropped suddenly to her knees, scattering the pups. She gripped one of Elia’s hands, pinching rings and knuckles together.
Elia put her other hand over Aefa’s. She pulled a simple ring of silver and amber off her thumb and slid it onto Aefa’s first finger. “Faith,” she said, not looking up to meet her friend’s eyes. “Trust? I thought my father was the truest star in the sky—strange and capricious, but true. Years ago I chose him, Aefa. I chose to be his, against my sisters, because he was so very broken by my mother’s death. I made myself into his perfect star, believing him to be true. But he isn’t! If not that, then what? What can I believe in if I can’t believe the stars will rise? How can I trust myself or you or Morimaros or my sisters or Ban Errigal or anyone?” Her voice was tight, high, and fast.
Aefa jerked on their grasped hands. “You can trust me because I tell you so. Because I have no agenda other than you and me and our families, our country.”
Finally Elia met Aefa’s green gaze. “I don’t know how. I believe you, and yet… after all these years, how do I let you in? How have I never done so, before? What if I lose you, too, Aefa, as soon as I let myself love you?”
“Then you’ll survive.” Aefa leaned in swiftly to kiss Elia’s lips. “You’ll mourn, and you’ll survive. That’s what love is. It shouldn’t break you, not like your father broke, but make you stronger.”
Elia stared. She touched her lips. “Maybe it’s me,” the princess whispered. “I’m broken somewhere inside, in a place that used to be—that I thought always had been—solid and strong. This is what he’s feeling too, my father. Even if everyone hates it, he and I were there together. I was his star, the beacon leading through the storm of his loss. Now I am gone, and he has lost his way again. He lost me.”
“He threw you away!” Aefa tugged on a free strand of Elia’s hair, fierce and hissing. “You did nothing!”
“I neverdoanything, it’s as you said. I’m always the buffer, the balm and comfort! A bridge, perhaps. But the bridge doesn’t soar or even move; it never even sees the end of the river. I thought the stars were enough, that choosing them for him was enough, but I’ve spent my entire life doing nothing. Studying what others do, what the stars say we should do. Reacting. Being what I’m supposed to be. I held the course, tried to be kind and listen, but did you know? Even the trees do not speak to me now. I spent myself with the silent stars and forgot the language of trees.”
“You can relearn,” Aefa murmured, stunned.
Elia shook her head. “I should have refused my father’s decree. I could have stayed, and gone with Gaela or Regan to hold my place against him until he saw me again. I should not have let his mad dismissal push me away or their disdain and exclusion intimidate me. I should have done something. But I don’t know how to act, Aefa. I only… am still.” She paused, then whispered, “I should have run away with Ban.”
Aefa pulled away and lowered her chin to stare suspiciously. “You should have donewhatwithwhom? The bastard of Errigal? The Fox of Aremoria?”
Elia fluttered her lashes and glanced down. “There was a fifth note,” she confessed. “From Ban Errigal, yes.”
Aefa made a strangled gasp.
“The king has it now. It said,I keep my promises, marked in the language of trees. At least I can still read it.” Elia added the latter quickly, as if it might cover up the first part.
“What promise?!” Aefa shrieked.
“He promised to show me how easily changed a father’s love can be. To prove somehow this was not my fault, but a fault of weakness in our fathers.”
