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The hearth is empty when I reach the dining hall, the air frigid and stale, but Mother sits unperturbed in a sleeveless evening gown. Attendants stand at the ready around the room, eager to acquiesce to her every demand. Or terrified not to, anyway.
A servant girl places an ornate plate in front of me with trembling fingers, either from the biting temperature or Mother’s predatory gaze.
I don’t blame her.
My heartbeat stutters in my chest, and the muscles in my face ache with the effort of keeping my expression bland while I survey my boiled chicken and vegetables for any signs of poison.
The room is heavy with the weight of expectation, like the tenuous seconds before the first strum of an instrument, but neither of us speaks.
Has she found out I’m the vigilante? Is this punishment, or merely a test?
It’s a gamble, like everything else in my life.
But only a fool would try to call Mother’s bluff.
Spearing a bite of chicken with my fork, I place it cautiously into my mouth, chewing slowly.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t touch her own food. Just as when I was standing off against the chalyx this afternoon, I am acutely aware that one wrong move may be my last.
Ignoring the way my blood roars in my ears, I make myself swallow.
But I don’t breathe, not until she grants me an approving nod.
“You’re less reckless than you used to be.”
“Thank you, Mother.” I incline my head. “You’ve taught me well.”
Her smile widens. “Tell me what you learned today, daughter.”
Just like that, whatever twisted game she was playing has come to an interlude, leaving me to wonder if I imagined the entire thing.
I take another breath before I recount my experience in the king’s rooms, sticking closely to facts rather than revealing what effect the visit had on me.
“So, you gleaned nothing from this?” She grips her chalice in white knuckles, the only outward sign of her aggravation.
“No,” I admit, swallowing down another wave of apprehension. “I had to leave because of the beast.”
“Odd that he left it alone…” She trails off thoughtfully. “In any case, I, at least, managed to gather some useful information. Einar is coming here tomorrow.”
Ignoring her jab, I take another bite of my bland chicken.
“And you would like me to be here to greet him?” It’s the obvious choice, me playing courtier.
“No,” she all but snaps.
My eyes fly to her face.
Something in her expression is off, so subtle that I almost miss it.
Is that why she’s called me here, to ensure I’m just distracted enough to miss whatever she’s keeping from me about the king?
“You may casually acknowledge him,” she allows. “Speak with him in front of others, but that is it.”
None of this makes sense.
If she wants to know more about Zaina’s time there, and what really happened, shouldn’t she wantme to get close to him?
A breath later, she adds, “The queen and I have an arrangement. It would do irreparable damage if she believed you had designs on the newly eligible king.”
