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Devikka gasps. “Oh, did youseeher dress? And her hair? It looked awful together. Orange should never be worn with reddish hair. What was she thinking?”
“She probably didn’t want him to recognize her. More proof she wasn’t invited.”
My face goes hot, then cold. That stings a bit more than it should.
They fall silent. A soft thud follows. I wait another moment before creeping to the corner. An empty hall greets me.
Taking a deep breath, I resume my trek forward, until I stand in front of my stepmother’s door. My hand quivers more than it should. Intermittent murmurs filter from the other side. Tightness spreads through me. Whether my stepsisters’ words hurt as much as they used to or not, the notion of facing my stepmother and the two of them, all together, ignites every nerve in my body.
I roll my shoulders back and concentrate on the door with its autumn tree carving.
I’m here for the truth. I deserve to know the truth.
We both do.
I knock. The titters beyond the thick door fall quiet.
My stepmother’s muted voice answers. “You may enter.”
I brace myself against the door and push until it creaks open. It thumps shut behind me. And I stand before my stepmother in all my servant frumpiness.
As expected, my stepmother, Lady Indirra, sits at the elongated table in the main room. My stepsisters and two other fey women sit around her. Whether it’s clothing or jewels, not one is without something that shimmers or glistens in the morning light. I don’t recognize the severe-eyed one closest to my stepmother’s age, but she easily could be the mother of the equally unfamiliar young woman.
Devikka blinks at me. Vallda uses her finger to trace some unknown design atop the smooth table. My stepmother stills, a goblet halfway to her lips. Her amber eyes widen and dart toward my stepsisters before settling back on my surely taut face.
Fighting the trained instinct to recoil and run, I swallow hard. “Please forgive the intrusion.” I dip into a curtsy and straighten as quickly as I can.
“What are you doing here?”
I focus on the woman who bears the namemotherbut has never been anything of the sort. “I have some urgent questions for you.”
ChapterTwelve
KIRRAN
The palace library seems larger than the last time I was here. Dark wooden bookshelves shaped like trees stretch up the walls toward the arched ceiling. Vaulted windows on the east and west walls spill a mixture of pale daylight and rosy sunrise over the area. Dust particles float about like they belong there.
I’ve never been one for reading. I much preferred to traverse the halls of history, a place deeper within the palace where the tales of our ancestors have been magically preserved through memory extraction and storyweaving. There, at each statue lining the corridors, the most prominent moments or lessons of the past can be experienced, relayed endlessly for any who care to listen.
Apart from sneaking books to Alia, I rarely frequented the library. It’s too vast, too quiet, too solemn. Beyond that, most of the books on its shelves are old, falling apart, or plain drudgery to read.
My “distaste for knowledge” was one of the reasons Father preferred Farrid, considered him the golden son. That, and him simply being the firstborn. I’ve always been an afterthought, extraneous. My father barely provided tutors for me. Though, to be fair, it was likely also because I skipped out on so many lessons.
It was always a given that I would never hold any prominent position in the court. Even before I met Alia, the military was my path, the best use for someone with my magic. Learning diplomacy never used to matter.
Mother’s face yesterday burns behind my eyes, and I tip my head down. My steady footfalls echo through the expanse.
She can deny it. Father can deny it, though he likely wouldn’t. My people surely feel the same.
Disappointment.
I’m not the prince they want. Not the king they’ll need. I’d probably be doing them all a favor if I abdicate to marry a half-human servant. Harran or any of my other cousins would be better than me. My brothers’ unborn children would be better.
With a sigh, I quicken my pace along the rows until I reach the section about magic.
No fewer than twenty thousand books fill the space before me. I groan, shake out my shoulders, and start my search.
Hours slip away. The sunlight streaming through the eastern windows melts from orange to a pastel yellow as the sun rises higher and finally hides beyond the library’s roof. The dozen books splayed out on the floor around me have yielded nothing useful. Nothing apart from confirming what I already know.
