WATER,cold and unforgiving, poured into Amarande’s nostrils and mouth. The princess’s eyes flung open, and blinking, shecoughed. The immediate sensation of drowning was thick and pressing as water settled where air should be.
Dowager Queen Inés stood over her, pitcher in hand, chomping on grapes.
“Poppied lavender—that has Taillefer written all over it,” she said, inspecting the soap and then tossing it in the chamber pot. “Up, girl. We need to talk.”
The woman flung a towel at the princess and turned her back, waiting. Amarande’s eyes again flew to the door. Still locked.
“How did you… did Renard…?”
“I let myself in my own way.” Inés allowed that statement to hang, full of what she didn’t say—that she had a secret entrance and exit to the room and she was proud to spare Amarande the details. “He doesn’t know I’m here, but before you scream for him and ruin his time in front of the mirror practicing kingly faces, listen to what I have to say.”
The princess hesitated. She had no weapons and no clothes. Still, she had options. Amarande pictured herself bashing the Dowager Queen’s skull against the unforgiving marble of the tub, or the table or the floor—the whole place was chiseled and diamond hard. Or holding the woman’s face under the water until she drowned. Or maybe breaking the crystal pitcher into an assortment of deadly shivs.
“If you are thinking about killing me, I would remind you that I am queen for the next two hours and you and your stableboy would both join me in the afterlife shortly thereafter. Renard doesn’t want your affections, Princess—he wants what you afford him. If your actions give him another way to win, he won’t save you; he’ll blame you. We don’t see eye to eye, but he is my son and I know his heart.” Then, “Out of the tub.”
Amarande grabbed the towel and stood, taking a few delicate steps onto the marble tile. She tidied up and, with the woman’s back still turned, pulled on the dressing gown left by the maids.
“What do you want, Dowager Queen Inés?”
The woman laughed hard enough it could be classified as a cackle. “What do I want? Whatdon’tI want?” When the noise died, her tone sharpened. “I want to not lose my crown in two hours, to start.”
Amarande could match her expression and then some. “You aren’t losing it; it was never yours. Blood to blood—the claim is not yours.”
The Dowager Queen arched a brow. “Yet you have the right blood, and your claim is still worthless without you attaching yourself to another like a parasite.”
Amarande pursed her lips. Water ran in rivulets down the back of the dressing gown, her hair a sopping mess, but she didn’t dry it, not taking an inch of scrutiny off this woman.
The silence pushed the Dowager Queen into speaking again.
“Before others, I must be more reserved about my son’s aspirations and sharing my feelings aboutthe rules,but I need you to hear me plainly now.”
Amarande stretched her patience, bringing it forth and stuffing down her desire to fight. She was in this woman’s home, after all, as Inés had already taken pains to remind her. “Say your piece, please, Your Highness, and let me be.”
The Dowager Queen wasted no time after that invitation.
“The moment your father died, Renard came to life. He saw his path in you, and he took it. You know this, do you not?”
The princess firmed her stance yet lowered her voice—Renard was somewhere beyond the door. “He is motivated because he believesyouare scheming to marry another king and bear a stronger heir—born for two kingdoms, not one. And I must say, from my experience with your courtships of my father, he is likely not wrong.”
Dowager Queen Inés didn’t laugh or frown at this, her face placid as she skewered some cheese. Amarande’s stomach audiblygrowled and the woman gestured to the plate. “Go ahead, I’ve already tested it. This particular food won’t kill you.”
Amarande did not take her invitation.
Inés reset. “I did pursue your father, but only because I believed him to be a good man. And when a good man turns a girl down, she so often fulfills those desires with something less than perfect.”
“You wanted to talk to me plainly, but I do not need to hear of your desires.”
“Oh, I wasn’t alluding to carnal desires—girl, you will find plenty who will serve a queen of any sort inthatway.”
Amarande’s cheeks went hot and she felt even more naked than when the Dowager Queen had found her in the bath.
“No, I mean power,” Inés continued, lips in a tart smile at Amarande’s blush. “Renard did not fall far from the tree. I married for this station, and, as you know, a woman has little rights in the Sand and Sky, title or not. I want to change that, but the crux is that I can’t without a king by my side. You know a little something about that, do you not? I know it was part of Renard’s pitch to you. He gives you the ring you need to rule, you give him early rights of his own, and together you’ve created the strongest alliance—no,combination—of kingdoms in the Sand and Sky. Domingu will rattle his dentures bowing so low to you, and Akil will wink and confide, smile sparkling, that he has always had a love of striking eyes like yours.”
Amarande said nothing.
“I am here to help you. The moment you marry my son, I can no longer fight at your side. I’m rendered moot. But if you were to run away with your stableboy? I could retain power long enough to marry again and then use the influence of two kingdoms to change the rules. You could return, claim your kingdom with your stableboy at your side, and be done.”
Again, Amarande said nothing. Like Taillefer’s grinning offerin the meadow, this power grab relied far too much on her service and trust of someone who didn’t deserve it.
