“How are you enjoying your new home, Adeline?”
Adeline set down her fork, lest the tension in her hands should cause it to snap in two.
“I’m very happy in the city, thank you, Your Majesty.”
“So I’ve heard,” the Queen cooed, too sweet. “Your escapades have kept you busy as ever, have they not? Between the love affairs and the drunken brawls, I feel I’ve barely seen you these past two years.”
Silas set down his own fork.
“Selma,” he said. “The Tavern was a misunderstanding. Adeline has answered every summons these past two years. She’s barely left the palace since New Winter–”
The Queen lifted a hand, and Silas fell silent at the barest gesture.
“You know,” she went on, as though the Duke had never spoken, “Mareda has attended meetings of the Cold Council since her sixteenth Winter. Have you no interest in your country’s governance? I’ve seen neither hide, nor hair.”
Her eyes raked pointedly over Adeline’s head, and though she cursed herself for it, Adeline couldn’t help but smooth her hair back from her face. It was fraying out of its braid, she knew, a dark cloud of frizz exploding around her forehead and tickling at the nape of her neck.
She wanted to shrink into her seat but there was no making herself smaller or neater, no escaping that shrewd gaze. So, she did as she’d learned over many years of weathering her mother’s disdain, the thing that would irritate the Queen the most; she held her head high, fraying braid and all.
Through pursed lips, the Queen hummed her discontent. She took a long sip of her wine, and still no one spoke, each of them somehow understanding that she was not yet done with Adeline.
“Well. I must say, it’s a poor way to begin your campaign for heir.”
“I have no plans to make a claim as your heir,” Adeline said, flat and cool as she dared. Silas turned sharply, but said nothing. Mareda went very still.
The Queen blinked her pale eyes, face impassive as ever.
“What a bold decision,” she said, finally. “But a shame nonetheless. You may have made a fine leader one day.”
…What?
Mareda flinched, but the Queen went on.
“I suggest you consider attending the next meeting all the same. You have all Winter to change your mind, and if you don’t, you may still take a place on your sister’s council in years to come.”
Adeline quickly closed her gaping mouth. She nodded, though a swift glance at her sister suggested that, right now, Mareda would not mind if sheneverjoined the council. When Mareda excused herself after their meal, Adeline slipped out behind her and rushed to catch up in the hallway.
“Marry, wait!” She caught her sister’s elbow and pulled her to a stop. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to be Queen, you know that.”
Mareda eyed her doubtfully. “Are youcertain?”
Adeline threw her hands up, dragging in a breath. There was too much she could never say to Mareda. Too much to tiptoe around.
She thought of her mother, of a childhood spent clambering for the attentions of someone who had nothing to offer but criticism. She thought of a youth spent literally dodging behind tapestries and suits of armour to escape her judgement. Nothing Adeline accomplished had ever been enough, nothing she said had ever interested her mother if it didn’tdirectlycontribute to the glory and prestige of Eisalaan. Passions and hobbies were a distraction, friendships a waste unless they were strategic. Alliances with influential nobles were acceptable; acquaintances with her handmaidens or the Palace Gards far less so. When the Queen found out about Ger, Adeline honestly thought she’d be ex-communicated - and perhaps she would have been, if her father hadn’t stepped in.
Adeline thought of all it would mean to inherit Selma’s cold legacy, to have to uphold that level of prestige for their kingdom for the rest of her life, even if it meant sacrificing happiness and family and, Goddess, some semblance of alife. She wasn’t sure she could do it, not if there was any chance she’d turn into someone bearing even a passing resemblance to her mother.
But Mareda had spent her whole life longing for the throne, and all the love and acceptance that came with it. She was a natural Queen. She would not lose herself to a crown, not in the ways that Selma obviously had, that Adeline never wanted to. So Adeline took her sister’s hands in her own and assured her once more.
“Yes, Mareda. I am certain.”
Chapter 9
Adeline
The day after their tense family dinner, the Queen took to her bed with a sudden flu, and Mareda, with Edward’s guidance, stepped in to oversee the public court in her place.
For the next few days, Adeline would arrive at the palace to find their training had been delayed or even cancelled. With little else to do, she spent much of her time in the palace kitchens. It had been a favourite haunt of hers as a child, one of the few places she could guarantee the Queen would never set foot. She’d grown close to Marie over the years, too. The cook was famously grouchy, but tough wasn’t the same as cold. It wasn’t the same as cruel.
