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So we don’t end up going to his study. We don’t even go to Nadiya’s quarters. We go to Camilla’s quarters, where Nadiya apparently has been staying half the time.
The walk is mostly silent; neither of us is interested in feigning small talk, and anything more important can’t be discussed in the open, though I do ask him quietly, “How are things with your father?”
“He hasn’t disowned me yet” is his optimistic response.
In the royal wing, I sneeze before I see the fairies floating beside us. I try to shoo them, but they simply drift out of reach. One of them spins and a flower blooms into existence in midair—a perfect magnolia, I realize. It drifts down into my palm.
“Thank you?” I tuck it behind my ear. The fairies buzz away.
Though Cyrus is facing forward, I can see a smile stretch his cheeks. “They like you.”
“Why?”
“Could ask myself the same question.” Is it flirting if he makes it sound like an insult? “Some people think fairies are drawn toward hope.”
“Sounds like some people arewrong.”
The entry room to Camilla’s quarters is a lounge area.Above, a mirrored ceiling reflects my face in kaleidoscopic shards. A low-hanging chandelier drips sapphires.
As soon as Cyrus shuts the outer doors, his shoulder slacken, relieved, as if the public trek here was the worst part. He scrubs a hand through his hair, still not quite looking directly at me. “Camilla’s been growing Nadiya’s confidence with their short trips out, but she’s still…skittish,” he explains. “She gets nervous as soon as you talk to her about the wedding, which doesn’t bode well for theactualwedding. She’s afraid about what you saw in her future—about the witch showing up. Which, fair enough, but the palace will be locked down, and we need this wedding to happen. She’d be reassured if you gave her a more uplifting reading.”
“I don’tdecidewhat I see in the future,” I say, as if it were obvious. “The future is the future.”
“So then…do what you do best.”
I cock my head, confusion clearing, a bubble of delight rising in its place. “Princey. Are you asking me tolietoher?”
“I am asking you to do what you do best.” He clears his throat as he knocks on the bedroom doors, and everything about his posture straightens at once. “It’s Cyrus,” he calls. “I’ve brought Violet.”
The doors swing open and a cloud of yellow petals explodes in my face. I hear Camilla exclaim somewhere beyond the floral assault, “Violet—you look well! Thank the stars.”
Racks of dresses in every color make a maze out of the princess’s room—zigzags of brocade, shiny silk, and wrinkled taffeta. Enormous bouquets and tea tables stackedwith snacks fill the gaps. There’s enough stuff for ten weddings in here.
Camilla, for once, is the least-decorated thing in the room, dressed in only a towel and a gooey face mask. Behind her, the bathroom steams with a fruity fragrance. Cyrus tips his head backward with a grumble, eyes skyward, and she sticks out her tongue, sauntering back into the steam. “Don’t mind me. Nadiya’s on the sofa!”
I can’tseethe sofa. But I hear a rustling, and the girl’s dainty face pops through a crush of petticoats. “Hello, Sighted Mistress! Sorry for making you come here.”
When I wind my way around the racks, I find Camilla’s cramped sitting area walled-in by fabric swatches and a sewing station piled high with spools of ribbon. Nadiya hastily brings over a tray of coffee, neatly stepping over Catastrophe, who is lounging in a sunspot. Cyrus takes a cup, I decline, and she returns the tray to the sideboard.
“I’d go to your tower, but every time I step out, it’s like the whole city knows,” she says, chattering fast. “I swear, there are nobles waiting behind potted ferns ready to ask me some question about Balica and my intentions and whether I’m somewitch.How are you? You look lovely today, Sighted Mistress. Oh—and you, too, Your Highness.”
“Just ‘Cyrus’ works fine,” the prince reminds, for what seems to be the umpteenth time.
“I’m sure you’re working especially hard, Your Highness,” she answers, missing his meaning.
I take a biscuit from a second tray she brings over, just so she stops running back and forth. “You’re talkative today.”
“Her Highness thinks having an air of mystery isoverrated, so I’m trying to be conversational.” Nadiya chuckles breathlessly. “She says you have to act like you have something important to say, and it projects confidence.”
“Preparing that confidence for the wedding?”
“Oh. I—” She sits down. Folds her hands in her lap over her eggshell-blue skirts. “His Highness probably told you about my worries.”
“Scared of the witch?”
“It’s more than that.” Her lips twist this way and that in an attempt to find an appropriate expression. “I-it’s going to be such a long day, Sighted Mistress. One long party after another, an entire banquet. I don’t know if my fairies’ glamours can last that long. There will be Balican dignitaries, people who knew my mistress personally. Thankfully not many, due to the difficulty of travel—oh, I don’t mean that I’m thankful that the beasts are making it difficult.” Her voice becomes squeaky and tinny. “I have received letters from her sister, who is intent on making the trip, and I—I just know she will see I am a fraud. I’m afraid—”
“I understand,” I interrupt before she hyperventilates. “It’s not ideal. But you’d be surprised at what people believe because they want to—and many people want you to be Raya. They want her to be alive, to be a hopeful beacon. I can look in your future, if that will soothe you. Maybe we’ve changed the future.”
