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One of her servants brushed out her long, ash-brown hair until it shone, still wavy from her sleeping braids. Another rubbed oil into her hands and feet, melting away the calluses and aches. Erida sighed, allowing herself to slow and lie still in the moment, everything quiet but for her mind. Her ladies kept to themselves, as Erida preferred. She knew better than to trust the young noblewomen around her.
The odd light in the sky bothered her endlessly, as it did therest of the court, though no one had an explanation as to what it could be. Not even Ronin, who scoffed at their questions and shook his head so dismissively that Erida knew he had no idea either.
She turned to see Bella Harrsing perched near the window, looking like an aging bird. She kept her cane in hand, leaning back against the glass. The older woman craned her head as best she could, moving slowly in her advancing age. The campaign had aged her, wearing new wrinkles into her face, new spots on her hands. Her pale green eyes seemed to have lost their color, even as she gained a rattling cough.
“You should sit, Bella,” Erida said, watching her warily. The Queen had no illusions as to mortality, but still, she hoped to hold on to Bella a little longer.
Lady Harrsing waved her off. “It hurts to sit,” she grumbled. Though her body failed, her character remained, sharp as ever. “All that riding and sleeping in cots did my terrible old back in for good. Standing is better.”
“I told you to stay in the wheelhouse with the others.”
“Since when am I like the others, my lady?” Harrsing said, her face creasing with smile lines.
“True,” Erida conceded. The maid finished with her brushing and set to arranging her hair, dividing it into four distinct braids. Her fingers were quick on her scalp, firm but not painful. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Harrsing tapped her cane on the floor and studied the bay, frowning as the red light danced on the current. “Because your husband cannot be?”
“Because I love you, Bella, and I value your wisdom,” Erida said quickly, standing from her seat. Her shift fell around her in a white cloud.
Her maids jumped to attention, bringing over her gown for the evening’s ceremony. Erida barely noticed as they laced her into a kirtle. The gown followed. It had once belonged to a Madrentine queen, as evidenced by the rich burgundy silk and tight bodice, cut low beneath her collarbone. The sleeves trailed to the floor, freshly embroidered with the roses of Old Cor, Galland’s golden lion, and Madrence’s silver stallion. They made for a glittering parade, matched only by a belt of braided gold at her waist. And the crown that waited in the throne room. Erida felt Harrsing’s shrewd gaze as her ladies pulled her cloth-of-gold cape into place, fastening the jeweled clasps at either shoulder.
“Just because I am twice queen doesn’t mean I don’t need you anymore,” Erida said, extending a hand. A maid slid a ring onto each finger, rubies and sapphires to gleam next to her Gallish emerald.
Harrsing met her eye. The lines between her brows deepened, her face going tight. “Is that true, Your Highness?”
“I do not lie, Bella,” she answered, feeling the lie in her mouth.Queens say what they must, and none can judge them but the gods.“Not to you.”
Erida waved the maids off with a flap of her hands and reached out, taking Harrsing’s fragile fingers in her own. The skin was soft and plump, painfully swollen.
“You can tell me anything.”
Harrsing’s throat jumped. “I only mean—that business withMarguerite,” she muttered, drawing Erida closer to the window. The odd light turned Harrsing a sickly shade, but it made Erida’s gems gleam like fire. “It’s so difficult to believe. Knowing you as I do.”
Erida narrowed her eyes. She felt Harrsing’s judgment, even as she danced around it. “I am not softhearted, Bella.”
“That I do know,” the old woman said quickly, almost placating. “But I have never known you to be so impulsive. At least not until...”
“Until what?” Erida said through gritted teeth.
Lady Harrsing took a steadying breath. Not because of her age, but because she knew this was dangerous ground. “Until your marriage to Prince Taristan.”
Erida pursed her lips. “I thought you approved of him.”
“My approval means nothing,” Harrsing sighed, shaking her head.
“Indeed it does not.”
“You care for him; you want him by your side; you see his value as you see mine, or Thornwall’s.” Harrsing’s grip tightened in Erida’s hands, surprisingly strong for her age. “And I support you in that.”
Raising an eyebrow, Erida tipped her head. She told herself to listen, even if her advisor spoke nonsense.Bella is getting on in years, but she deserves to be heard out at the very least.
“But?”
“But he does not understand the realities of court,” she answered, her whispers turning desperate. “Politics. Common human behavior, it seems.” Her eyes shone, wavering as she searched Erida’s own. “And you do.”
Erida couldn’t help but smirk. Gently, she pulled her hands away. “I believe that’s called balance, Bella.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Harrsing said, sounding reluctant. “I just don’t want to see you do something rash, and risk everything you’ve built for yourself since the day the crown touched your head. Few others would flourish the way you have. You are Queen of Galland, the most powerful person in the entire realm. You have Madrence already, with Siscaria looking close to surrender. But don’t grasp at what you cannot hold. Don’t risk your castle for another cottage.”
