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“And where,” I agreed, but he had an answer for that one.
“La Cortina.Your rooms…your old ones. I recognised the tapestry behind Yanev as the one in the antechamber.”
Oh, so Navar fancied himself a prince, did he?
Dima groaned. We wordlessly urged our horses into a trot, their hooves clicking against the cobblestones of the bridge. Because wood would have been toocommon,apparently, with some ancestral Panarin having spent a fortune and much of their sense in constructing the massive bridge that soared up to the castle in a showy gesture of wealth and pretentiousness that I was finding it hard not to admire. Less impressive was the hulking shadow it cast over the city below during the daytime, but seeing as Stavroyarsk was fucking freezing and gloomy regardless, maybe no one had noticed yet.
And while our companion’s identity remained a secret to all but us, Panarina, and Velichkov, it seemed our return was anything but secret, because we were quickly ushered through the several checkpoints of guards who manned the bridge and past the gates.
Where we discovered that we weren’t the only royal visitors this night.
Astrid Panarina stood on the steps to the castle, framed by the open doorway at her back. Her thin white dress billowed airily around her, snow cascading down onto her bare shoulders, and the ethereal appearance she cast was only heightened by her abject refusal to do anything so human asshiver.
Velichkov was a few feet away, bundled up in furs like any sensible person, but both his and Panarina’s eyes were locked on the third royal in the courtyard. The woman had her back to us, her grey hair pinned up in a severe bun, but as Mat and I dismounted from our horses and handed over our reins to a pair of stablehands, her shoulders turned fractionally in our direction. Familiar blue-grey eyes took us in with a terrifyingly intense scrutiny, and I felt my wildcat stiffen at my side.
“Mother?” Mathias croaked out, his voice breaking on the word. A word that was aquestion,as if he was unsure of the answer.
Queen Zora Velichkova’s gaze swept coolly from him to me and then back to her son, her mouth thinning. Whatever she saw, she wasn’t impressed.
Valeri cleared his throat, miming a bow with the crisp tilt of his upper half, his right arm clenched in a fist across his chest. But Mat, who I’d seen bow in the Temarian way before, instead sank into the traditional gesture of the Mazekhstani, settling his arm across his waist.
Reminding her of what she’d done to him.
“Your Majesty,” I muttered, half-assing my own bow and not bothering to give it the usual flourish favoured by Quareh. Yet it seemed I’d used up my allotment of her scant attention, for the Temarian queen didn’t bother to even acknowledge me.
As the silence grew, I waited for the condemnation I was sure Zora was about to deliver on her third-born son. The fury, or the disappointment, or the bigotry – however she chose to communicate the clear disapproval on her face, I was ready to fuckingunloadon her about how Mathias was a thousand times the royal…theperson,she could ever be.
But it didn’t come, and that was almost worse.
“Nathanael,” Queen Velichkova said evenly, dispassionately, as though she was addressing a stranger instead of her own Dios-damned child she hadn’t seen in nearly two decades. Then she turned away without another word, gliding up the stairs and past Panarina, who mutely stepped aside to allow her entrance.
“Mother,” Mathias begged. His voice echoed around the torch-lit courtyard. “Please let Val and Mila have your army. Let them help Ren.”
Zora didn’t even pause.
As she disappeared inside the castle, I glanced at Mat. His jaw set, his eyes filled with a steely hardness I recognised as hisgetting shit doneexpression, and he jutted his chin at Dima.
“He needs to be kept sedated by Doc until we leave tomorrow,” he told Panarina, and she nodded, ordering her servants to take the man inside to the healer before descending the stairs towards us.
“Nat?” she asked gently, tentatively, the ice queen thawing before my very eyes. The worry on her face as she raised a pale hand to his cheek had me reassessing what I knew about her, because Astrid Panarina was apparently a complex fucking creature, oscillating between cold-hearted bitch and sweet, vulnerable tenderness. While I appreciated more than most the importance of maintaining appearances, hers seemed more than surface deep. Like she really was both personalities, and saw no difficulty in maintaining such a juxtaposition of character.
Mat’s hand was already entwined with mine: I’d reached for it as soon as I realised who the surprise guest was and that there would be no warm reconciliation between them, and now he squeezed it gratefully.
“I’m fine, Astrid. I just…didn’t expect her to be here.”
“None of us did,” Panarina said softly.
“Apparently Aksinia Saw the treaty we’d reached,” Velichkov added, giving the doorway his mother had disappeared through a dark look. “While it was within my delegated authority to agree on Temar’s behalf, Her Majesty wants to look it over before it is signed.”
I felt my northerner tense. “She’s not…it won’t…”
“Nyet,”said Panarina. Her bare arms were smooth from bumps, showing no sign she was even feeling the cold. “I consider the matters between Aratorre and myself settled, and will not accept any amendments Queen Velichkova may propose if they are detrimental toeitherof our countries.”
I murmured my thanks, she gave an apology, and then everyone else in the courtyard retreated into the castle or the stables, leaving just me, Mat, and his brother.
Mathias’ shoulders slumped, emotion finally overwhelming him, and I held him tight. His cold cheek pressed against mine.
“Fuck her,” I said firmly. “You don’t need her.”
