Safe.
These ladies offered safety to her as Morimaros did: like conquerors. Elia could accept it, sit here in their extended haven.Safety.But what would she be asked to exchange, what was the trade? Kindness and honesty were easy things to give when you were secure. Promises weresafe.But safety was also inaction; it was a privilege granted, not won. Elia should’ve been safe with her sisters, yet she could not depend on it. Because they did not trust her—allow her—to be at ease with them, had not permitted her to sharecomfort. She had never been safe with Gaela and Regan, and they would never be on her side.
Admitting it, even for a moment, broke something open inside Elia, and it pushed out from her heart like a great wind. The hairs on her arms raised.
“Thank you,” she said to the queen and her daughter. “I think I’ll accept your brandy.”
Ianta smiled large and rejoined them with her bottle, pouring it all around.
Elia sipped the sweet cherry brandy to cover the cold rain in her stomach. She asked, “What do you believe in, here in Aremoria, if you don’t have stars or earth saints?”
The Elder Queen said, “Our king.”
“Is he so… worthy of it?” Elia forced herself to ask.
Twice-Princess Ianta leaned toward her. “If he reunites Innis Lear and Aremoria, he will be considered the greatest king we’ve had in a thousand years.”
Elia froze.
“That is how Aremoria holds faith,” the Elder Queen said, more gently. “My husband’s father, King Aramos, proclaimed an end to the crown’s reliance on the stars or the land. He said we were stewards of the land, partners with it, not subject to it, and certainly not subject to the stars, which never suffer with us. He did not raze any chapels or close any caves or springs. He merely told the people they did not need to worship or sacrifice.”
“It worked? The land… did not…” Elia thought to saycryorrebel.
“It worked. But Aramos did something else to unite everyone behind him: he gave Aremoria enemies. We had always had border wars; there has always been pushing and pulling against Ispania, Burgun, Diota, even the Rusrike at times—and of course, your own island. But Aramos made our enemies definitive. Instead of being Aremore because we live with this land, because our families always have, we are Aremore because we fight to keep Aremoria. We are Aremore because we arenotIspanian, Burgundian, Diotan, or Learish. Do you see?”
Elia did see, and was horrified.
By this, Morimaros had to invade Innis Lear, or lose a piece of what made him who he was. The golden king of Aremoria. Their destined leader. A would-be god to his people. And when Elia had asked, Mars had offered several strong reasons he should invade. Political and martial, and economic, even going as far as arguing that it would be the clear best choice for the future growth of Innis Lear. But he had not revealed this reason. Thisdestinedone. Draining the brandy, Elia clutched the cup and looked straight at Ianta. “In Morimaros’s council meeting, did you urge him to invade my island? And was this why?”
Ianta lowered her cup. A tiny hint of brandy stained her bottom lip before she licked it away. “No,” she said. “I urged him to marry you instead.”
“He might do both.”
Calepia nodded. “Indeed, if you let him.”
Why is it me who must allow or stop or end or choose?
But the words did not leave her, for she knew the answer: it was because no one else would—or perhaps, no one else could. Her sisters chose long ago to make themselves rigid, and her father chose to give all to the stars. Morimaros had chosen his path in becoming king, and even Aefa had chosen, and would choose again, to stay with Elia and support her. Everyone was pointed in some direction, of their own choice.
Always Elia had been aimed and set by others. Accepted what was given, absorbed into their wills—especially, though not exclusively, her father’s. She’d borne any consequence by detaching from her own heart, unwilling to examine her actions in case they might clash with the need to be still. Elia let the stars decide the course of her life, despite her bold words framing them as distant guides.
She was exactly like her father.
Elia stood and poured more brandy for herself. She lifted her cup. “To choosing for ourselves.”
One of King Morimaros’s soldiers appeared at the library door. He saluted crisply and murmured a message in the ear of the nearest lady-in-waiting. The lady passed it to the queen’s ear, who then glanced at Elia with slight surprise. “You have a messenger come urgently from Innis Lear.”
Already! It couldn’t be from her sisters yet, unless letters had crossed. Had something happened? Worried, she set her cup on the table and turned to face the door. Before she could proceed, a travel-worn young man pushed in, one with reddish hair and a face more freckled than not.Beloved of the stars.“Rory!” she said, shocked. “Errigal. What are you…”
The heir to Errigal dropped before her, knees hitting the floor hard enough the sound echoed like a knock on death’s own door. “Elia,” he murmured, hands reaching out, eyes cast down.
She took his face instead, forcing him to look at her. Dread filled her heart. “Tell me what has happened.”
Behind her, she heard Aefa quickly explaining that Rory was somewhat of a cousin to Elia: that she’d known him since they were babes, and he was as honorable as any man. Trust Aefa to be ready to defend against even a hint of censure cast on her princess. Though Rory was known to the court, as a cousin of the Alsax. Elia found it hard to focus on their words over the frantic beat of her heart.
Elia took Rory’s hand. He was a good friend, and she’d seen him more frequently this past year than the last five, since he had come the retainers’ barracks at Dondubhan, near where she’d studied at the north star tower. Rory was broad and handsome, freckles overwhelming his face like the most crowded arm of the firmament. His characteristic slouch was appealing instead of indolent, promising friendliness, not malfeasance.
But now he stared up at Elia, haunted. She reached for her cup of cherry brandy and offered it to him. He drank it all.
