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Not a bad guess, in light of Agenor’s reputation. I felt a little sheepish as I shrugged and said, ‘Mine, mostly.’
‘Dear gods.’ Again that laugh, a little more incredulous now. ‘I see. So the thought is that you’ll stand a much better chance at convincing the humans out there to trust you when you have the weight of the White City behind your requests?’
‘Yes, exactly,’ I said, relieved despite myself that she did not seem to think it a ludicrous thought. ‘You wouldn’t have to sendpeople, I think. Some money would work. Food. Weapons. Anything that enables us to go there and tell them the city is supporting our efforts.’
She leaned back in her rickety chair, tapping a fingernail against the table. ‘And that we could probably get from a public vote. People will feel vaguely guilty about not going out thereand fighting the good fight. Giving them a way to buy off that guilt without actually risking a single hair on their heads … I have a feeling that would be a popular option with some of the circles in here.’
A grin was growing on my face, defying all my attempts to remain business-like and pragmatic about the matter. It was oddly exhilarating just to see herthink, pieces slotting into place behind those clever blue eyes; if she was genuine, if I had judged her correctly …
Then this was the sort of ally I hadn't even dared to dream of.
‘Alright,’ she said firmly, veering back up and snatching another biscuit off the plate with a swift, energetic motion. ‘We have our weekly general assembly tonight with the consuls, the treasurer, the guardmaster – that’s Delwin – and a few others. I’ll try to gauge where we stand with Norris and let you know. In the meantime, just don’t do anything that would ruin your reputation with the general citizens, alright?’
‘No dramatic shows of magic,’ I said. ‘Understood.’
‘A fast student.’
I let out a sour laugh. ‘I’ve had two decades to learn that lesson.’
She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment, examining me with that same assessing look with which she’d welcomed me up in the White Hall. A look of almostacademicinterest – as if she’d read a dozen books devoted to the study of me and was now making a conscious mental effort to match the image she’d constructed in her mind with the living, breathing, scheming individual sitting before her.
I sipped my tea. In cases of doubt, I’d found, that was rarely a disadvantageous decision.
‘I know this is technically none of my concern,’ Rosalind finally said, and the words came out a little strained, as if she had thought about them too hard to get them over her lips in aremotely natural fashion, ‘but would it be terribly impolite for me to ask you for a little summary of those two decades? And the last year, too, if possible? If I have to convince a room full of sceptical colleagues of your good intentions, some knowledge of your background may come in useful.’
I hesitated. ‘And that’s the only reason?’
‘Oh, no,’ she admitted with a wry, fleeting smile. ‘I’m just nosy, too.’
Had she denied it, I might have kept my cards close to my chest – still the little girl trained to keep her shameful secrets hidden at all costs, still the prisoner who’d survived a fae court by little more than wits and the small advantage of information. But this small, cunning woman before me was not Valter or Editta. She was not the gossiping villagers. She was not the dagger smiles of the Crimson Court.
Rather … an ally.
And maybe, just maybe, a friend.
‘Could you pour me some more tea?’ I said. ‘I think I’m going to need it.’
She did, with a flicker of relief on her face I couldn’t fully make sense of, then refilled her own cup, too. Again, the scent of almonds and orange filled the morning air, mingling with cinnamon and jasmine and the lingering fragrance of dew on leaves.
I hadn't known peace had its own smell until that moment, and now I didn’t think I’d ever forget it.
‘There,’ she said, putting down the teapot and resting her chin in her hands – the epitome of an attentive audience, and judging by the hint of a smile on her lips, it was fully deliberate. ‘We’re all set. Please start at the beginning, Emelin of Agenor’s house.’
So I did.
We’d finished our tea by the time I had summarised the twenty years in which I’d lived as a human, or in which I had at least desperately tried to do so – a period in my life I had always believed overwhelmingly dull, and yet somehow Rosalind’s earnest questions made even my stubborn dove-chasing seem diverting. She laughed about my stories of village politics. She winced sympathetically at the tale of how I’d lost my apprenticeship with Miss Matilda. She went still – very, very still – at the description of my last morning in my parent’s house, the feast I had not been allowed to attend, the shame and embarrassment.
The ancient owner of the teashop brought us more tea. I told Rosalind how Cathra had burned, how I’d tried to kill Creon, how he’d dragged me off to the Crimson Court all the same. Told her about the Mother’s different-coloured eyes and the hounds and the unexpected beauty of the pavilion, the earth-shattering revelations Creon had presented to me, the bargain we’d made.
For some reason, she was smiling broadly at that last point.
I skipped over that kiss inside the Labyrinth butdidtell her about the mountain’s sentient nature; I mentioned the fae ball but concealed that we’d ended up fucking against a wall by the end of the party. Next came Creon’s demon powers. Our fight. My flight into the Labyrinth and Ophion waiting for me by the exit to parade me before the Mother as his evidence of her son’s treason.
The hellish night after – Creon dangling by his wings, me desperately hauling horses and hay through the Labyrinth’s gem-lit tunnels.
We’d finished our second pot of tea by that time and both urgently needed a bathroom break. Rosalind settled the bill while I relieved myself in the small, pink-tiled bathroom that smelled penetratingly of sandalwood; she was waiting for me outside when I returned, looking almost ethereally serene in the sunlight, her white robes fluttering lightly in the breeze.
‘I thought we should walk a little,’ she said brightly. ‘The Sailor’s Park is beautiful around this time of the year.’
