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A flutter of excitement stirs. I can’t believe he’s agreeing to let me go. “That was the plan, anyway.”
“I’m sure it was.” He smirks. “I’ll prepare Corrin for it.”
His hand is on the terrace door when I call out, “Hey, Zander?”
He pauses, and I note how his shoulders rise and fall with another deep breath. “Yes?”
I hesitate. “Did we ever … you know.”
“Do I?” he teases, but after a moment says, “No. You insisted we wait. You found great enjoyment in taunting me, though.” He half turns toward me but then stops himself. The corner of his mouth curls. “You still do.”
But I would no longer insist on waiting.
By the piercing look he casts over his shoulder, he senses that. “Sweet dreams, Romeria.”
I catch his chuckle as he pulls the terrace door shut behind him.
Darkness creeps toward dawn before my tumultuous thoughts allow me some rest.
“How in the fates …” A concentrated frown mars Dagny’s forehead as she plucks at a piece of straw clinging to her dress. Brushing it away, she returns to her stiff, upright position. Her beaming smile is genuine. It would be contagious, if not for my exhaustion this morning, made worse by Corrin’s nattering about all the reasons she is against this silly outing.
“The clothiers should bring their spools of fine silk to the castle for the future queen’s perusal!” she exclaimed while shaking me into my gown, a delightful violet silk that swirls around my ankles and pairs nicely with a capelet with silvered embroidery.
“I’ve never been in a carriage as fine as this, Your Highness.” Dagny smooths her stubby fingers over the red velvet interior.
“It is nice, isn’t it?” When Elisaf led me to the courtyard and I saw the elaborate ebony-and-gold chariot, and the twenty soldiers who would accompany me, I nearly turned back, given the attention this would draw. But Dagny was so excited for the opportunity to ride to the market with the future queen, I climbed in, unable to disappoint.
I’ve made use of the excursion, keeping an eye out the window and memorizing markers while Dagny babbles. It’s a linear path as we navigate our way down to the market, save for two turns. I spy the top of the ominous tower at my right.
She clears her throat several times, dipping her head to peek past the curtain. Elisaf and Dorkus bank either side of the carriage. “I was lookin’ into that special wool you asked me about. Talked to a few weavers I know.” Her eyes widen with meaning. “None of them have heard of it, but we’ll keep lookin’ for ya. Bound to turn up, eventually.”
Her search likely won’t return anything if Ianca is going by another name, but I smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Your Highness. Anything for you.” She unfolds and then refolds her hands in her lap. “I suppose you must be excited about your upcoming wedding? Not too far off now. I know it would be the second time through this circus for you, and what with the first one bein’ tainted by murder and all, but surely this time will go smoothly. You two will be married, and we can finally put all this bloody business behind us.”
Unless I somehow find myself in that nymphaeum on a blood moon, in which case I have no idea what new bloody business will be in front of us.
I change the subject. “I never asked you, how old is your son Dagnar?”
“Seventeen! He’s a big, strong, strapping lad like my Albe. Handsome, too, if I do say so myself, being his ma and all.” She nods, pride clutching her words, more heavily accented when she’s excited.
“Will he be auctioned off soon, then?”
Her smile wavers. “Next Presenting Day. I suppose so, yes. It will be a challenge for Albe and myself, to say the least, but it is the way of Islor.” She nods resolutely. The distress in her eyes tells a different story, of a mother dreading the day she loses her son to obligation.
My own upbringing began ordinary and loving until it took a dark turn that soured any fond memories. I have little to call upon to draw sympathy from, but I can sympathize as a fellow human. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s fair how you’re all forced into the tributary system.”
“No, Your Highness, it doesn’t seem so, does it?” She hesitates, picking at a loose thread on her dress. “Is it true that the mortals live free in Ybaris? With villages and farms and whatnot?”
I can only answer that because Zander said as much last night. “Yes.”
“You know … lots of folks were wishin’ that once you two were married, they might open up the rift and let some of us through. Don’t suppose that’ll happen now, even with a weddin’.”
Some of us. She means the humans. “Were a lot of people hoping for that?”
“Aye. There’s no way out of Islor short of payin’ a captain a hefty price to smuggle us out. Far more than any of us will ever see in our lifetime unless we rob our keepers. And even then, we’re usually caught in the ports on the other side, and if there’s anythin’ hinting at a cuff in our ear, we’re sent back.” She nods. “Seemed an omen, a Ybarisan queen comin’ to rule. A sign for the change of the times. There’s been plenty of talk over the years, about how the king might be wanting to change the way things work. Is that true? Have ya heard of such a thing happening, or is that just rumor?”
Elisaf said Zander hasn’t been silent about his hopes for a progressive Islor. I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s a topic of conversation among the humans. “It’s not just rumor.”
