“I see,” Diaa says, amused. She raises her cup of wine. “And I am glad of it. I was concerned the match would be too overtly political for the binding to reach your hearts so quickly.”
“An unnecessary concern, Mother,” Lyric says, command in his low tone.
She hums an unconvinced note, and Iriset murmurs, “I will be what he needs me to be, Your Glory.”
“Of course, child,” Diaa says, nodding at the second cup of wine.
Iriset takes it and drinks, saved from further conversation by Amaranth’s arrival.
The Moon-Eater’s Mistress blows in like a thunderstorm, billowing and determined. She kisses her mother’s hand and sits with a groan, arms stretching above her. “What a long day this always is,” she complains.
“And must be,” Lyric says.
“And must be,” Amaranth echoes, not quite mocking.
She looks to Iriset, who says, “I’ve never witnessed anything like it. The empire is truly great.”
Amaranth’s mouth opens as if to laugh, but instead she snaps her lips shut and snorts.
Diaa pours Amaranth a cup of wine. “When will Iriset be unraveled?”
Iriset can’t stop the stiffening of her entire body.
Amaranth and Lyric stare at their mother for a moment, and Diaa purses her lips. “I quite liked her, you know.”
“I have arranged with the Silent priests and Raia mér Omorose for the ritual tomorrow morning,” Amaranth admits.
The Vertex Seal slowly sets his cup down, and his fingers linger against it before he draws a deep breath. “I will attend.”
“The body has waited too long already,” Amaranth says, almost apologetic. “And tomorrow is our only chance before… Well, there will be other unravelings to concern us after the executions and whatever mercy is or is not granted.”
“I know,” Lyric says.
“Poor girl,” Diaa of Moonshadow murmurs.
Iriset closes her eyes, her stomach grown tight and cold. Thinking not of the ritual but of her father. Tomorrow she needs to find time to analyze the state of the anchors for her distraction array, and find out where exactly she’ll be during the execution in case she can still set the trigger, and hope, hope, hope Bittor manages to save him. He must. Then Iriset can flee, too. Iriset whispers, “She died for me. Allow me to attend with you, husband.”
Lyric touches her knee. “You are my wife, not my subordinate. You may go and do as you prefer.”
“Has there been some progress discovering who placed the poison?” Iriset asks both her husband and Amaranth.
The latter shakes her head. “The people with access are being narrowed down and questioned, and we have a list of suspects, but nothing for you to worry about right now. Focus on the start of your marriage.”
Iriset frowns and doesn’t allow herself to toy with her cup. “It concerns me so greatly, Your Glory. If I can help in any way, I would like to.”
“Until we catch the criminal, you can help by not getting killed.”
“Ama,” Lyric chides.
“Sometimes frank conversation pins the right forces in place, brother, rather than elaborate knotting around the center.”
Iriset says, “It is all right, Lyric. I am fond of Her Glory’s… forthright… ways. And I must, if nothing else, remain alive for you—for the empire.”
“At least until you’ve given us a couple of heirs,” teases Amaranth. But the Vertex Seal ignores his sister, frowning at Iriset as if not liking something in her words. It bothers her not to know where her misstep was.
“I noticed some people yesterday who seemed to dislike me,” she says quickly, eyes downcast. “Two in particular. A young mirané woman with a plain but beautiful mask adorned with tiny gems in the shape of rain, and an older miran in almost all white, but a half-mask of copper and opals.”
“Those are good details to remember,” Lyric says.
