“There is but a week until my wedding,” she said, soft as a breath. “And it is high time my bridesmaids were fitted.”
Later on, Adeline would marvel over the miracle of it all; that she’d gotten through the next hour without evenoncelunging for Avette’s slender throat. It helped to hear a little reassurance; the sort of soothing phrases Marry might once have whispered to her as children, hand in tiny hand as they faced her mother’s quiet wrath. But Mareda was not in a position to reassure anyone right now. So, with her sister nearly catatonic on the settee behind her, Adeline was left to reassure herself as Imogen worked around her, rephrasing and reframing the words in her head each time they began to lose meaning.
It doesn’t matter,she told herself.This wedding will never happen. I will not stand beside her in this stupid dress while she binds herself to the love of my life. It won’t happen. It does. Not. Matter.
Avette drifted back and forth in the mirror’s reflection throughout the fitting, her dark eyes agleam whenever they managed to catch Adeline’s. She found excuses to stay close, commenting on the fabric. Engaging Imogen in plans they’d already gone over at length. Running her fingers down the spiral of Adeline’s curls as she mused over potential hairstyles. At theproprietary touch, Adeline bit down on a shiver so hard her jaw clicked audibly. She was a plaything to this woman; theyallwere. Pieces to be moved across the chessboard at her will and whim.
As if in proof of that, Avette breathed a lofty little laugh when Imogen paused her work to go and fetch another swath of fabric to let out Adeline’s too-tight bodice. Avette grabbed her arm as she passed, and Imogen stiffened—then immediately fluttered her lashes in another simpering smile.
“Your Majesty?”
“We shall not deprive you or Lady Mareda of your dresses simply because my cousin has allowed her appetite to spiral.” She laughed again, pendant flickering gleefully. “Perhaps we have solved the mystery of my Drowned Prince, and his rathersuddenarrival to his senses.”
Oh fuck you, Adeline thought at once, but when her eyebrows twitched with the need to shoot up, she gritted her teeth and reminded herself it didn’t matter.It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t fucking matter.
Imogen’s smile did not falter. “There’s plenty of fabric to spare—”
“No,” said Avette sharply, and Imogen fell silent at once. “We have six long days ahead of us. Lina shall watch her plate, or she shall learn to hold her breath.”
“There’s nothing to watch,” said Adeline. “The whole country is starving.”
A flicker of gold caught her eye in the mirror—Mareda’s head raising where she sat with her back to them, her face turning just enough for Adeline to catch the taut line of her lips andthe fearful bob of her throat. Avette, however, just blinked impassively.
“Then it should be rather easy for you,” she said.
She made a swift gesture, and Imogen hurried back to Adeline’s side, pinning and tucking as best she could with the sparse fabric. Over her head, Adeline and Avette remained locked on one another. Even in the reflection of the frost-edged glass, it was difficult to say whose stare held the most ice.
“Why are you doing this?” said Adeline finally.
Avette pressed one delicate hand to her chest, doe-eyed and earnest.
“Because a woman’s wedding is the most important day of her entirelife, Lina. Perhaps one day you will understand. Or is your charming gard a mere distraction? Another way for you to degrade and defile yourself? If we were closer, perhaps you would allow me to speak freely.” She laughed. “Then again, as the queen, I reserve the right to do so either way. Such promiscuity is unbecoming, cousin. Dangerous, one might say.”
Bent at her side, Imogen froze momentarily—then continued with such haste that her pin nipped at Adeline’s waist. She barely felt it beneath the prickle of unease nipping at her skin.Ger.She could not help but remember how distraught he’d been at the thought that Avette might hear about their ruse, and she could see now that he was right. That was jealousy slipping like oil beneath her every honeyed word.
Bollocks.
“I’m not talking about the dress,” Adeline said, too quickly. “I’m talking about all of it.Everything.All the things you’ve done in the name of a sparkly crown.”
“That,” said Avette, “is a rather simple conclusion to draw, for a daughter of the famousSnow Queen.”
She spoke mildly, but her pendant was caught in a constant glow that only shone brighter with every taut breath.She raised her hand to it, stroked the beaming blue glass as though it were an angry pet in need of soothing.
“In this modern world, with its modern privileges, I do not expect you to understand that history has not always been so kind to women like us. You do not know what it is to fight for what you and your useless sister were handed so freely.Ifought, cousin. I fought for everyscrapof power that was ladled into the hands of lesser men simply because theyweremen.”
“That is such an empowering story, Your Majesty. Until I remember that you tore away theonesource of power your fellow women might have.”
“Adeline,” said Imogen sharply.
But Avette held up her free hand, still stroking her pendant with the other. It beamed in shifting patterns beneath her fingers, the light sliding over her eerily still features like water. A woman drowning in her own power.
“I am more than happy to set dear Lina straight,” she said softly. “Yes. When I froze the Laune, I stopped the flow of magic throughout the waters of Adhlas. Just as I intended.”
“Why?”
Avette held her eye in the frosted glass, unspeaking for a long moment, though the slow curve of her smile conveyed some of her thoughts. How pleased she was at what she’d accomplished. How she relished this chance to finally share, with a captiveaudience, how very clever she’d been. The slow slide of her lips set Adeline’s stomach turning.
“Do you know why we call ourselves Wielders, cousin?” Avette asked finally. “The term was coined when evenmyancestors were still swaddled and squalling. Strange, how almost every aspect of our lives has changed since their time, and yet we still use the same language to talk about the single most coveted force in our world. Isn’t that peculiar?”
