Stop the pity fest, I could almost hear Veynathei in my head, not because she could reach me over the vast distance but because this was precisely what she would have said. Find a different solution. A workaround.
I thought of the map.
Tarina sat against the Elucian border. If I moved to Tarina, the distance separating me from Veynathei would shrink significantly, and we would be able to communicate. I could go on treks up the mountains and call her. I could slip away across that border and be at the Citadel in hours instead of days.
I would never ask Kailin to abandon everything to come live in Tarina and be my paramour. But perhaps she could accept mewhen I came to visit, because my marriage to Idrilia would be in name only. I had no intention of consummating it.
It was not the life I wanted, and I wasn't sure I could ask Kailin to take back a man who was bound to a wife, even if she was a wife in name only. She deserved a whole man and a whole life, not stolen afternoons.
I could never ask it of her. Could I?
"I need to hear you say that you will do it, Alar," my mother insisted.
"I'll do it," I said. "I'll accept Idrilia, and even though I will hate every moment I have to spend with her, I won't embarrass Catonia."
52
IDRILIA
Fate doesn't knock. She kicks the door down while you are busy making pointless plans.
—From the journal of Princess Idrilia
Cardilia was already in the antechamber to our mother’s study in our Vedona residence when I arrived, perched on the edge of a pink velvet bench with her ankles crossed and her spine straight, the way we'd both been trained but only she'd bothered to keep up.
"Do you know what this is about?" I asked, sitting beside her.
The only other time the two of us had been summoned like this, side by side, we'd been little girls back home, and it was because we'd gone exploring the tunnels under the palace and scared the life out of our governess when she couldn't find us. The whole palace had erupted into chaos as everyone searched for us.
We'd gotten the scolding of a lifetime and were confined to our rooms for a week. The servants had been instructed not to talk with us when they brought our meals. We'd been miserable, and we'd never forgotten that lesson.
"No idea." Cardilia glanced at the closed door. "We've been in Vedona barely two days, and she's spent both of them shut in there, on the telephone from morning to night, snapping at everyone who comes near. When she gets like that, I stay away." Cardilia leaned closer to me. "Something's brewing, Idrilia. She doesn't get like this often, and when she does, big changes are happening."
"Whatever it is, you have nothing to worry about. She's already decided your future. It's the rest of us who need to shake in our boots." I looked down at my feet. "Or slippers, as it may be. I haven't been able to wear boots since I returned from my latest adventure."
Cardilia winced. "How are your calluses doing?"
I shrugged. "My feet are not going to be pretty for the ball." I lifted my hands and turned them over. "These are at least presentable or will be after my nails are buffed and painted, and I no longer look like the hired help."
Cardilia chuckled softly. "Is that what she told you?"
"It was one of the milder insults. The main one was that she's washing her hands of me and giving up on ever finding me a proper match."
"Ouch."
"Not really. I thanked her. The last thing I need is a husband. Gavon is more than enough for what I need. I know exactly what I can expect from him and what is above his pay grade."
Cardilia was about to answer when the door to our mother's study opened. We both tensed, but it was only Tatany, her secretary.
"Her Majesty will see Your Highnesses now."
Our mother was seated behind the desk when we came in, and she gestured at the two chairs that had been set out in front of it like seats before a tribunal.
"Sit," she said. "I have a great deal to tell you and not much time, so try to hold your questions until I've finished."
We sat, and I gripped the ornate arms of my chair.
As expected, our mother turned to Cardilia first. "I regret to inform you that your betrothal to Prince Arlen is no longer in effect."
