She’s a lonely and spoiled child, no matter how old she is.
“Airlie worries after you because she cares, not because she wants to be mean. We all worry about you.”
I feel the guard’s gaze burning into my skin, but my focus stays fixed on Sari. The neckline of her dress sits firmly at the base of her throat, and her sleeves cover her arms to her wrists, but there are no lace panels or ribbons woven through the fabric like most high-fae females wear, only a single line of pearls stitched around the flattened collar. They’re misshapen and small, an odd choice for my cousin, but against the off-tone blue of her dress they’re an elegant touch, and they match one bracelet on her wrist, hidden amongst stacks of white gold and sapphires.
She sighs at me again and shrugs, leaning back in her chair, and Malia once again fusses with her appearance. I find it suffocating, the idea of someone touching and poking and prodding me at all times, and yet the level of perfection Sari is forced to live under has paved the way for this.
“Can I talk to the witch?”
My gaze snaps back up to her, my mouth drawing in tight, and the smile across her lips grows bigger, just a few too many sharp teeth shining through. There’s the Unseelie high fae in her, the ability to wheedle and nickel and poke until she gets what she wants.
“Absolutely not, Sari. She's not docile, don't let the chains fool you.”
Slowly, as though giving her best performance, Sari turns in her chair and looks over the witch once more, her head cocking and displaying a long line of white, unmarked skin. Her neck looks fragile, like porcelain, as though she's made of something different than the rest of us.
“I don't know how you can stand being in the same room as a witch, especially one as disgusting asthat. However are you going to marry her, Cousin? My heart feels sick thinking of it.”
Pretty words, but with nothing behind them, they ring hollow. Her face didn’t change as she said them, going through the motions as she’s been taught to do by courtiers and instructors.
Still, there's something about her that makes us all worry about her, and I change my mind.
I wave a dismissive hand in the witch’s direction and say, “Airlie is coming to collect her and get her cleaned up now that she’s met the Unseelie Court and we’ve considered my options. It's clear what the Fates are asking of me, and we’re going to begin the preparations.”
Sari’s face snaps back toward me. “You're not truly going to marry it? Surely not!”
I cross my arms and lean back in my chair as I regard her. “And what do you suggest I do instead? I'm sure even in the gilded chambers of the regent’s heir you must’ve heard of the Ureen.”
She shudders, and it's real, the little sign of the intelligent mind hidden underneath the pretty jewels and luxurious fabrics. “Maybe you should speak to the Seer again? If you can find her, that is. Maybe there’s another way.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been to her many times. I spoke to her many,manytimes, and the witch has confirmed our joined fates.”
She looks back at the small, filthy figure. “And you believe what the witch says? Why should we believe that the Seer gave your fate to you as the Fates commanded? All Seers were once witches—why wouldn’t they side with their own people?”
Long ago, I considered that, but the vehemence with which Kharl hunted down the Seers convinced me otherwise. I lean forward in my chair with my gaze still fixed on Sari, but her own stays on the witch. There's something in it that isn't quite right. She's not scared of the witch at all. There's curiosity in her eyes, but something else as well. If it were anyone else, I’d pry into that look further to find out exactly what it was for but Sari is not someone I’m willing to push like that. Her bloodline complicates everything.
“How long are you staying with us? I'm sure that the empty hallways of Yregar Castle aren’t to your liking.”
She turns back to me, and the pretty smile melts back over her features. “I missed you, Cousin. No one speaks to me like you do. That's why I'd like to go for a walk with you, but…if I'm in your way, I’ll go home to my father. He was hoping we could spend some time together, but I see that you’re very busy.”
My gaze flicks back to the guard, but he doesn't look worried. Whether she knows it or not, her father left her here to collect information, and in his Fates-cursed wisdom, he sent the right person.
Sari has always wriggled her way beneath my defenses, and the guard watching over her with the permanent sneer can take note of whatever slips from my mouth as the princess talks circles around me, unknowingly endangering me with every second that passes. It’s always been this way with Sari. No matter how bad things get, all she can see are the pretty pictures her father paints around her.
I rise from my desk and hold out a hand to my cousin, determined now to distract her curiosity. “Come. We'll find Airlie to deal with the witch, and I'll leave some of this work to Tyton so I can take you to the orchards. They look a little grim at the moment, but I'm sure that will change soon, with the upcoming nuptials.”
The words hurt to grind out from between my clenched teeth, and the witch sees it all with those silver eyes that notice far too much. I don’t like the way she’s looking at Sari, the interest she’s taking in our interaction. It reminds me of the way she looks at Tyton, and my temper lights.
If I can send Sari back to Yris with a story of my obedience to the Fates and my efforts to make the witch presentable, then this snooping will be worth a walk around the orchard. Sari moves through both sides of the Unseelie Court with ease, everyone pandering to her and encouraging her free-flowing opinions to satisfy their own need for gossip. If I can get her to say the right things, maybe my wedding won’t be such a divided event. And if the game distracts me from the stack of letters, Roan’s race to Fates Mark, and the villagers Tauron has gone to offer safe passage to Elysium on the funeral pyres, then all the better.
Sari slips her hand in the crook of my elbow and stands, ignoring Malia as her handmaiden jumps into her fussing. It’s only when the guard turns away that I see Sari’s other hand slip into Malia’s to squeeze it for a brief moment, a tiny reassurance and sign of affection to her sister that’s over before I can blink.
She sees me notice and blanches a little, glancing at the guard as if to be sure he didn’t see it as well, and her voice is a little too bright as she says, “I don't care if it looks grim, Soren, none of that worries me. You’re going to invite me to your wedding though, aren’t you? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The suffering of the kingdom might not worry her, but her guard certainly does. Or maybe it’s her father’s image she’s worried about, her affections for her sisters a closely guarded secret.
I ignore Malia, though I hate doing so, but when I don’t draw attention to the female, Sari relaxes, and I lean into the act, playing the part well and spurred on by the fact that it’s for Sari’s benefit as well as my own. “You’re at the top of my guest list, Cousin, second only to the regent, as is respectful. I’m sure Airlie will make the witch presentable, and the wedding will be to your liking. Which tiara will you wear? I’ll be sure to have the temple decorated accordingly.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
