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Two additional maids are already assisting the queen as she undresses. One unties her gown at the back while the other stands in front of her, hands held out. Cettina is reaching into her hair, pulling out pins one by one and handing them to the maid.

“I did not expect you so soon,” she says. “Come in.”

Though the bedchamber is large, it is no bigger than my mother and father’s back home. It is modest for a queen, although it is as opulently appointed as I would expect. A fire is already lit in the corner. Cettina nods to one of the two chairs next to it.

When I move to sit, the maid with the pins hands me a goblet. I accept, peering inside.

“I visited Sindridge once,” Cettina says. “The region where that wine hails from.” She steps out from the crimson gown, dressed now in a simple but fine undergown. Nodding to the maids and retrieving her own goblet from a cupboard against the wall, she joins me as the two women leave the chamber.

“Do you not find it a relief to be rid of such things?” she says, indicating her gown, now laid out atop the largest trunk I have ever seen. “Have you worn men’s breeches before?”

Not knowing which question to answer first, I say “nay” to the breeches.

“I wear them in the training yard. They are quite freeing. ’Tis said the women in Murwood End wear them most days. But I confess, I’ve not been there for many years, so I cannot confirm that particular rumor. Although even as a child, I suspect I would have noticed women dressed as men.”

Sipping wine by the fire and listening to her, I can almost forget this woman is the queen.

“I’ve never been to Murwood End,” I confess. “My father says they do not welcome Highlanders.”

“Hmm. They do not welcome most anyone who is not native to Murwood End. Did Erik tell you he traveled there not long ago?”

“Aye. He said the king’s commander was there at the same time.”

“A man by the name of Lord Vanni d’Abella. The king’s son who is not his son.”

I’ve heard the name, but I know little of the man.

“They say he married a Garra from Murwood End. A woman he met on that very visit.”

“A Garra,” I repeat, almost whimsically. Although the woman who sold me the Kona pin is the only Garra I’ve ever seen, I’ve read all their teachings. “My sister loved to read. Our tutor procured many books, some teaching of the Garra. I think there is much to be learned from them.”

Cettina takes a sip of her wine.

“There is much to be learned from everyone. Tell me of her. Your sister.”

I do, sadness creeping into my voice more than once. And yet, I find myself recalling happy memories more and more lately, through the haze of grief. It makes me hopeful to think there will be a day when I can again think of Fara with joy.

Cettina says nothing of her own sister.

“You told me earlier that Erik did not force you to wed him,” she says, abruptly changing the topic. “I see how he looks at you. And when you think he does not notice, how you look at him. So tell me, why do you let our past come between your present?”

I’m so startled by her question, I simply stare.

“I’ve spent a lifetime enduring looks of jealousy, of discerning others’ thoughts sometimes before they say a word.”

If a hole were to suddenly open beneath my seat, sending me tumbling to the very depths of the castle, it would please me greatly.

“Do you know my favorite thing to do?” she asks, and then, before I can answer, “I imagine how it must be to live as the person I’m speaking to. My maids. The Curia. My enemies. And you.” She takes another sip. “I’ve thought of how I would feel had I arrived at the Tournament of Loigh thinking I would return home, only to fall for a man who is both glorious and complicated. To marry him, wondering the whole time if he cared more for me or his sense of duty and the task he’d been given by the queen he serves. And then to meet that very queen, knowing she once shared a kiss with the man who is now my husband.”

My chest and face are aflame. Did she just say that aloud?

“And if I loved that man? I would feel lost and confused, excited at times but saddened at others. I would wonder how to forge a new life without having a chance to mourn my old one. I would feel further away from the sister I’d lost . . .”

The beginnings of tears sting my eyes.

“And confused by how to treat with a woman who is all at once a queen, a woman, a potential friend, and the person who stands between me and the happiness I’m unsure that I deserve.”

I pull out the ever-present handkerchief in the pocket sewn into the side of my gown and dot both corners of my eyes. I cannot look at her just yet. My chest hurts, my eyes sting. Embarrassment would have me rushing from the room, yet I’m filled with a sense of awe that compels me to speak.