She covered Mamma’s leather-clad fingers with her own. “I would join you, but it’s inoculation day at Dania’s clinic.”
Mamma’s smile went even warmer than usual. “I know. Give her my love, and tell her to carry some of it to her husband and daughters, and that brother of hers.” She let her hand fall from Kyrja’s face and turned toward Einar, who’d trailed her to the side of the rink.
Kyrja could see the struggle there, where it had always lived in Mamma’s eyes. That desire to reach out to him too. To touch his cheek. To pour out her love for him.
She couldn’t, not with either him or Krystiana. It was forbidden. All she could do was offer him a smile, a nod, and say, “I look forward to dining with you tonight, Your Highness.”
It was normal. The way their world was. Even so, it never failed to make Kyrja’s throat go tight. That she was the only one of Mamma’s children she was allowed to love. To call by name. That she had to greet her own husband as Your Majesty, her older two children as Your Highness.
Where was the fairness in that?
And Einar? Did he chafe against it? If so, he’d never said as much to Kyrja. He certainly never showed it. Just gave a courteous bow and said, “Likewise, Modur.”
Kyrja fully expected him to make his exit, leave her to walk their mother out, as usual. He surprised her, though, by lingering, moving with them at Mamma’s slow pace toward the door. Kyrja took the opportunity to look up at his chiseled jaw,the pale gold of his hair, still dusted with snow from their training, and ask, “What is this Accord with Ellas?”
Einar seemed to consider for a second, then shook his head. “Nothing for you to worry about—not yet. After your Blessing Day.”
Frustration gathered in her chest. Her brother was always putting her off, any time she tried to take an interest in state affairs. “All right, then what are the Red Hands asking for this time?”
Einar cleared his throat and darted a look at Mamma. But at least he answered. “The usual. More resources, more seats on the Great Council. Nothing they have any hope of receiving. Fodur won’t budge on those things.”
“And they cannot budge in asking for them,” Mamma said, voice soft and even. “How could they? Thanes outnumber Fjorders five-to-one. But they have only two seats on the Great Council—two, out of thirty-six! And even if that were equal, we all know that it’s the High Council of the Blessed, not the elected Great Council, that wields true power in Fjordlandi.”
Einar’s jaw went tight. “It’s how it’s always been.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s how it always should be.” But Mamma’s tone was sad, resigned. She knew even as she said the words that they were useless. No more effective than Kyrja’s crystalized artwork. “I fear for you, Your Highness. I fear that when you inherit your father’s crown, long after I’m dead and gone, you’ll be inheriting a Fjordlandi too fractured to survive. A kingdom built on the backs of its people is a kingdom destined to break when they do.”
“You underestimate the strength of the thanes’ backs.” Einar said it like it was a joke.
Mamma didn’t laugh. Just sent him a sorrowful gaze. “No. I don’t. But your father underestimates the strength of their spirits. Don’t make the same mistake, when it’s your turn.”
They reached the end of the rink, of the stands. Mamma stepped down from the seating level while Kyrja and Einar moved off the ice. She could feel the frustration in her brother’s mask of dispassion. “My turn is likely a century or more in the future. And you would do well to keep such thoughts to yourself, Modur.”
Around Fodur, she always did. For that matter, Kyrja could recall only a handful of times she’d said such things evenoutof his hearing. And at her mother’s soft, humorless laugh, her spine snapped straight in dread. “Einar, I have at best a few more years in these creaking bones. What exactly do you think I have to lose by speaking my mind?”
They paused at the door, the air between them cracking like ice gone thin from heat. Partly at the name she’d dared to use. Partly at the thoughts she’d dared to think.
Einar looked at Kyrja, as if she were the answer to the question, then back to Mamma. He tilted his head. “Perhaps you’re right. Even so, I would beg you—don’t say such things in Fodur’s hearing.” Not waiting for a reply, he gave another brief bow of farewell to Mamma and a less formal nod to Kyrja. “See you tonight, both of you.”
Mamma let out a long breath as he left. They followed him out into the snow drifting lazily down, though at a slower pace. To Kyrja’s eye, the smile her mother fastened on was about as natural as the domes. Necessary, perhaps, but completely fabricated. “Try not to be late tonight, Kyrja. We still have some details to discuss about your Blessing Day celebration.”
Her own smile mirrored her mother’s. By rights, the ball next month to celebrate not only her thirty-fifth birthday but the thirtieth anniversary of her magical Blessing ought to be the biggest event of her life. The signal that she had come fully into her power, the end of her training, and was ready to takeon whatever responsibilities King Isidor and his High Council deemed her suited for.
In reality, it would be nothing but a chance for the more powerful Blessed to mock her with their snide smiles and too-loud whispers.Princess Valkyrja, the weakling of the family. Princess Valkyrja, nothing but her mother’s pet. Princess Valkyrja, more a thane at heart than a proper royal.
All true. And so, she brightened her smile and leaned over to prove it with a kiss to Mamma’s paper-soft cheek. “I won’t be late. Love you, Mamma.”
Mamma chuckled and tapped a covered finger to the tip of her nose. “Love you, snowflake. Now off with you.”
With one more nod to the two Vektor Guards who flanked Mamma to see her safely back to the palace, Kyrja took off at a near-run through the streets of Reykstoll. Heading as she was to the poorer side of the city, where thanes had moved from the domes over the centuries and taken up residence, sheshouldhave brought guards of her own, but…well, she never bothered, and Fodur never insisted.
Say what they would about her weak, untethered magic, but one thing she was good at was this. Charging through the streets of her city, giving smiles to everyone she passed by. Greeting by name many of the shopkeepers and vendors, the faces she saw on every such trip, every week.
By the time she hurried into the clinic her best friend ran, her smile was genuine again, and she’d shaken off the fizzled training session, Fodur’s decree that her training stop, even Mamma’s concern about the thanes.
Here were plenty of them, and the commoners didn’t look so unhappy. They were warm in their woolen sweaters and coats, cheeks pink and eyes gleaming. Little girls bounced up and down when they spotted her, little boys pointed and gasped.
She winked at the whole waiting room and sidestepped the receptionist’s desk with a wave. Inoculations were always done in room four, so there was no need to ask where Dania needed her today.
