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As ever, Melody was unsympathetic.
Calista glared at her, hoping that Melody really could feel other people’s gazes on her skin like knives as she liked to claim. Sure enough, her sister smiled. She was sitting cross-legged in her favorite armchair, over near the great fire that Calista had personally made certain was lit each day. It wasn’t as if their parents spent any time in this library. Aristotle and Appollonia Skyros didn’t have time toreadwhen there were worlds to ruin and monarchies to worship.
This library had been installed in the house because libraries were expected in the stately houses of Idylla. Calista and Melody had claimed it ages ago and it had been theirs alone, the two of them.
Calista had hated her time in her father’s house, and she and Melody had told each other their complicated, glorious daydreams about getting out of this house. Getting away from him. Getting to live as they liked, far away from here.
But now that it was happening, notably not as planned, she felt hollow inside.
“I don’t understand any of this, to be honest,” Melody continued, clearly choosing to ignore Calista’s mood the way she often did. “I’d love to be a queen. Who wouldn’t? Mother was carrying on about all the dresses and the jewels, but I think I’d enjoy the power.”
“The Queen of Idylla is a consort, not a ruler,” Calista snapped.
And she curled her hand tight over the jewel she wore. The astonishing jewel King Orion had placed there himself that she should have wrenched off and tossed back at him at the first opportunity.
Instead, to her great shame, she had yet to take it off.
Not even once.
“The consort of the ruler is still closer to being the ruler than we are,” Melody pointed out. “I’d take it in a heartbeat.”
She did not add:But I’ve never been asked.She didn’t have to add it. They both knew full well how their father felt about the daughter he seemed to think had been born blind purely to spite him.
“You should come with me,” Calista said fiercely. “I don’t feel right about leaving you here. We both know what could happen. It’s already bad enough with the minders he keeps hiring to bully you.”
But when Melody shrugged, Calista wasn’t surprised.
“Then it happens. Of the two of us, Calista, I’m a little more at peace with my fate. And my prospects, such as they are. You don’t understand that there’s a freedom in being ignored and underestimated.”
“You shouldn’t have to be at peace with anything. You shouldn’t have to be stuck here, either, constantly under threat of being shipped off to some institution if you displease our father—”
“You went to university,” Melody said, though she was grinning. “Really, if you think about it, what’s the difference?”
Calista tossed her favorite Jane Austen collection into her bag, which was already pushing her capacity to lift, much less carry. There was no point arguing with Melody when she was in this mood. She knew that. Her sister was the last person on this earth who would ever think of herself as a victim, and there was no use trying to convince her otherwise. Still, she couldn’t quite get her head around what it would mean for her sister to live here unsupervised with their parents and the questionable aides he insisted loom about the place to “help” with Melody.
Nothing good.
And if her parents made good on the threats they liked to make about shipping Melody away—To find her true potential, Aristotle sometimes said, when what he meant was,Where her existence can no longer plague and shame me—it would break Calista’s heart. Because she knew, even if Melody pretended not to, that the three years Calista had spent in Paris pretending she’d never heard of Idylla or Skyros Media bore no resemblance to the life Melody would lead if their parents succeeded in institutionalizing her.
But it was as if Melody could read all of Calista’s thoughts and feelings in the air between them. She stood up from her chair, then came over. She took Calista’s shoulders in her hands and held them there. Tightly.
And it was a good thing to remember that Melody was no wilting violet. Her hands were tough. Strong.
So is she, Calista told herself.And if you don’t trust her to take care of herself, are you any better than our parents?
“Go,” Melody said, gently but firmly. “You could even try enjoying yourself, for a change.”
Calista blew out a breath, fighting to steady herself against a wave of emotion she couldn’t afford. And shouldn’t have had in the first place, as this was all a great farce. She wasn’treallyleaving her childhood home to go live with her husband-to-be, who happened to be the king. This wasn’t a real engagement and it wouldn’t be a real marriage. Why should she suffer real emotions?
She was still on the board. Her plan was still in place whether she went to the office or not. Her revenge—and Melody’s freedom—was within reach.
“Enjoy myself?” She tried to laugh. She tried to stopfeeling. “You do know where I’m going, don’t you? I’ve been fired from my job and now I have to go play pretty princesses.” She wanted to make an immature gagging sound, but restrained herself. “I will likely die, Melody, stifled to death by boredom and inactivity.”
“You’ve been working feverishly, day and night, since you were eighteen. I don’t think that learning how to be a queen sounds particularly boring, if I’m honest, but even if it is—it has to be more entertaining than spending the whole of your life figuring out ways to thwart Father.”
“I don’t want to thwart Father,” Calista said softly. “I want to destroy him.”
And that was just a start.
