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There’s concern in her face as she pinches the bottom of her lip, as if thinking, then stares at me. “Are you sure? The way he kissed you?—”
She can’t be serious. “His kiss? A kiss here?” I touch my temple. “That’s the second kiss he ever gave me. The first one was at our wedding, because he was forced to kiss me. And now I think he’s trying to pretend he cares for me. But he doesn’t like me.”
Tarlia frowns, then says, “I guess that sounds horrendous.”
“It’s not horrendous. I’m just saying there’s nothing between us.”
She stares at me, a long, searching stare, then says, “You look good, Astra. And by good, I don’t mean just glowing and beautiful. You look happy.”
Her words surprise me. Happy? Is that how I feel? “I’m not sure if happy is the right word, but I’m not being mistreated or anything.” I need to change the subject before she keeps asking more and more. “And how are things going with you? With Sayanne? The Elite Tower?”
She leans against the wall. “The same. Different. It’s just two of us now, and Driziely’s birthday is coming soon. I’m here, so I assume I’m the one who’ll be playing princess, now that you’re gone?—”
“They wouldn’t pick me.”
“Astra.” She tilts her head and stares at me. “Please. Let’s be honest. You always had preferential treatment.”
“I was never sent on assignments.”
She chuckles. “Which only means you were not disposable like us.”
I hate the word she’s using to describe herself. “You are not disposable.”
“Replaceable, then.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “They could use Sayanne, but now that I’m here, I suppose I’ll be the one who’ll have to seduce a certain fae king.”
“Fae?”
She sits on the bench and takes a deep breath. “What other important alliance would they want? One too dangerous to send their own princess?”
“Renel?” Could Marlak have been right all along?
She raises an eyebrow. “Most likely.”
Renel. I consider what he told everyone about his own brother, compared to Marlak’s horrific memory. “Renel’s cruel, Tarlia. You can’t marry him.”
“Astra, you found your way out. Let me find mine.”
Her way out. It was what she always wanted, why she always wondered if we would survive being substitutes. But she doesn’t need to marry Renel for that. “If you want to escape, maybe I could?—”
“No.” She sits straight. “I didn’t choose to be in this game, no. But I’m going to play it to the end. And if that king decides to be cruel to me, he’ll find himself missing a certain appendage.”
Her focused expression turns into laughter, and I end up laughing with her, even though I know it’s not something to be taken lightly. “You need to be careful, Tarlia.”
“Well, I’m getting good at braving assassination attempts.” Her tone is light, but she doesn’t sound like she’s joking.
I freeze. “Did something happen?”
“No. I mean I’m getting good.” She smiles. “Training.”
“You meant something specific.” It didn’t sound like she was talking about training. “Tell me, Tarlia. Tell me everything. I need to know what’s happening.”
She holds one of her curls and stares at its tip, then caresses it as if it’s a cute little pet. “I…” She looks at me. “You know life in the tower is hard. You know that. And the birthday celebration is coming, and?—”
“What’s happening?”
She looks away again, then back at me. “Fine. Sayanne pushed me from a window.”
“What? How did you survive?”
