I frowned, then tugged the blankets to my chin. “You think I should have let her drink it.”
“I think you should have sought advice.”
I huffed in irritation and closed my eyes. Why did I always make the wrong choices, the ones others believed could be avoided? I didn’t care if I bore children later. To be honest, I’d never given it thought. Perhaps with the right man. I never considered the bitter waters might risk that. I never weighed the consequences.
To not act rashly was a lesson I still needed to grasp.
It proved challenging when Adastrus’ goons were breathing down my friend’s neck, pressuring her to drink something so horrible.
“A wise ruler seeks counsel.”
“I’m no ruler.”
“Not yet.”
I opened my eyes to find him standing, adjusting his tunic. His gaze softened as he watched me, his angry storm subsiding.
If I’d have my brother’s head, I needed to ascend the throne—and even then, it wouldn’t be a fleeting affair. My entire future would intertwine with that accursed seat, and an entire realm would hinge on my choices. Acting out of haste and without thought would not only harm me, but inflict suffering on my people—countless Wynterians reliant on my judgment.
Vulnerability washed over me, a feeling I’d grown accustomed to with my history of mistakes and poor decisions. While I hadn’t ascended to rulership yet, I knew I hadn’t inspired confidence in those who might follow my lead. Beneath my shelter of blankets, I gathered my courage, posing my question.
“Would you have me as your queen, Sainte?”
He watched me, face void of expression. Silence slipped by, snaring my nerves, wreaking havoc on the scraps of resolve I had left.
“I would only have you as my queen,” he said.
My heart swelled, threatening to burst with joy. Concealing my smile beneath the covers, a wave of gratitude warmed my spirit as he offered a small bow, then retreated to the wall. With closed eyes, I let myself rest, comforted by the knowledge that at least one person believed in me.
“Come in,” I called, smoothing the fabric of my dress.
As Leihim stepped into the room, I acknowledged the servant beside him with a nod. The counselor’s attire spoke of opulence. The luxurious green fabric of his overcoat and trousers hinted at softness even from a distance, a detail not lost on me.
“Counselor Hinyte,” I greeted, dipping my head but maintaining direct eye contact.
His piercing eyes locked onto mine as he smiled and executed a formal bow. “Princess.” He cataloged the space with a swift glance, his gaze catching on my Valahant. Undeterred, his smile remained fixed as he stepped further into my receiving room. “I see you’re feeling better, recovered from a minor plague, was it?”
I settled into my seat, allowing Sainte to guide my chair in. With my hands folded atop the table, I maintained a composed posture, chin raised.
I had to play this right.
“Yes, something I picked up among the Glades. Isolated, I assure you, else the whole of the castle would have had it by now,” I said with a guarded smile.
As of yet, no rumors surfaced that Adastrus suspected I drank the tea in Lyana’s place. Anderz kept a diligent ear for any gossip regarding it, but thus far, no nobles pieced it together. It might have crossed the minds of a few, but if they understood the potential side effects, they knew it would’ve been foolish of me to consume them. Any sane person wouldn’t have taken that risk.
Perhaps I wasn’t as sane as they assumed.
“You caused quite a scare,” he noted, resting a gloved hand on the back of a chair. “Some worried you might not be fit for the final Rite.”
“Oh, I am fit enough,” I replied with a coy smile. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”
He nodded and obliged, appearing at ease in my company.
“I hear your merchant guild is doing well.”
“It is, actually,” he said. “We’ve experienced fewer attacks as of late. Have you considered my request?”
I stared at my hands, letting silence lapse between us before I met his stare with hooded eyes. “It’s a pity the only caravans targeted have been those that carry my brother’s goods.”
