[ Asterion ] Book One, Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Finley dreamt of a mask of bone.
She dreamt of a bird framed through that skull’s empty eye, a bird unlike any she had seen. She dreamt of a bird with talons larger than her hands, an arched neck, and an imposing, curved beak. She dreamt its feathers were doused in tar, dripping viscous and night-black into the sand.
She dreamt she ran. She dreamt of sand shifting underfoot and towering white crystals on the horizon. She dreamt the bird followed her without ever spreading its wings, and she dreamt the crystals would not dim, though they left a chalky residue on her palms.
She awoke with the taste of salt in her mouth.
All was silent under the palace. Finley had no windows to judge by, but guessed it was around four in the morning. Yda slept soundly, confirming her suspicions.
She headed for the servants’ baths. There were a half-dozen of them to be shared between hundreds, but Finley had an unprecedented choice that early in day.
The baths were small and rectangular, each just about big enough for a single person, but the rooms were private and shared the amenities of the palace above. Water rushed from the taps, steaming-hot. Finley wasn’t close enough to the crystal that heated the water to turn it tepid.
Willow used to sneak into the bathrooms with her. Ocari was well aware it was happening but gave up scolding them after the first few months. Willow would sit by the bath and wash Finley’s hair through, rub her shoulders after a hard day moving topsoil around the grounds, and share every detail of her own day. The pair of them would dream up the bathroom of their future house, a bath big enough for two, promising it would become reality once they’d saved up enough money.
Finley slipped into the hot water. She washed her own hair and her shoulders did not ache, not now she worked for the princess.
She towel-dried her hair, something the other servants gawked at, deeming it an exhausting, time-consuming process that made for little in the way of results. It was early enough for her to let the warmth of the servants’ hall take care of the rest of the job, early enough for a leisurely breakfast and Yda’s company as she bustled about, bringing the kitchen to life.
She put on a freshly laundered uniform. The effort she made was entirely coincidental. A gathering of royals did not unsettle her as it would’ve weeks ago, even four of them in one room. Finley had met all of them individually and knew that she need not worry how she conducted herself in their midst, how loudly she breathed; they would pay her no heed.
To them, the presence of a servant was no different to being alone.
To all but Alexandria, perhaps, but Finley had spent every day with her for weeks.
Hours after waking, she headed to the princess’ chamber with Rosa. Rosa would not stop talking about the announcement Prince Iyden was to give, the announcement all understood intimately; Rosa could not believe that the prince was there to court the queen, or that he had so brazenly demanded hospitality of the entire kingdom in an attempt to woo her. Finley did not correct her.
Alexandria was already up and dressed. Rosa sighed, placed the breakfast tray by the princess, and was waved off. She shot Finley a roll of her eyes and headed over to the princess’ desk, where she might busy herself organising the perpetual mess there.
Alexandria went over the morning’s letters, mired deep in thoughts of the day ahead. Finley caught a glimpse of one over her shoulder. It regarded a business in the Poplar District which had expanded its premises without seeking permission first, and now encroached into the alleyway its neighbour used as a rear entrance. Finley didn’t bother reading the rest.
With Rosa distracted, pretending dusting each surface took whole minutes, Alexandria began steeping some of the bitterwillow leaves Finley had given her. Finley bounced on the balls of her feet, basking in the victory she did not expect to find so much satisfaction in.
“Rosa,” was the first thing Alexandria had to say. “Since today is, I’m told, an important occasion, I shall give you the honour of doing my hair.”
Though Rosa pulled a face at the princess’ back, Finley knew part of her was genuinely delighted to do her actual job. She forced Alexandria to stay at the vanity for almost an hour, brushing her hair through until it shone, then worked it into a style Finley thought better suited to a ball. She was impressed by Rosa’s ability to hide the countless pins she used to hold up the princess’ hair; there was a lot of it, and now all the world had a clear view of the back of Alexandria’s neck.
Alexandria waved Rosa off as she returned to her seat before the fire. As Rosa left, in came Luna, dressed as finely as she always was, eyes brighter than a full moon.
“Good morning, Alexandria! Finley!” Luna said, falling on the settee next to Alexandria. “Are we all ready for what the morning brings?”
Alexandria immediately put down the work she was intent on losing herself in and turned a suspicious eye on Luna.
“And how many hours post-coitus, exactly, are you?” Alexandria asked dryly.
Luna held up both hands and laughed too loudly.
“What? I’m just—”
“You’re just nothing. When was the last time you used my actual name, hm? Did you finally get under your knight, then?” Alexandria asked.
Luna had blushed a sudden, violent mauve, burning from the tips of her ears to her sternum.
“Well, yes, but—” Luna said, embarrassed, delighted. “Oh, Lexi, don’t glare at me like that! I’m not going to get myself in trouble.”
Alexandria jabbed a finger against her cheek.
“I merely feel bad for poorly Finley. She rather liked them, after all,” Alexandria said, drawing Finley into the conversation.
Luna looked over the back of the settee at, having gone from blushing to paling so quickly that she must’ve been dizzy.
“Oh, Fin, I didn’t—” she started.
“No, no,” Finley was quick to correct. “I said that I thought Rydal was a nice person, and that Alexandria should stop worrying about the two of you.”
Luna’s happiness bounced back as though it had never been threatened. Finley found herself grinning. Luna’s moods were often infectious, only Alexandria claiming any real immunity to them, and Finley felt an echo of the giddiness that came with being with someone for the first time. It was all sparked nerves and uncertain certainty, so much left unsaid in lieu of action, kisses burning hot and skin never close enough.
“They are a nice person! Thank you, Finley,” Luna said, leaning against Alexandria. “And I still can’t believe it, Lexi. They were so… so sweet, I didn’t expect it, didn’t dream it would actually happen, and the intensity, we—”
“Have some decency, woman. You’re making poor Finley uncomfortable,” Alexandria said.
“What? Finley’s a grown woman! She’s older than both of us,” Luna said, hooking an arm over the back of the settee. “What does Fin do when you bring your women back here? Surely that’s worse than listening to me gushing like this.”
Finley cocked her head, curious. Luna had taken Alexandria’s women as a given, and Alexandria was pointedly not looking anywhere but the fireplace.
“Don’t be absurd. I have some dignity left, don’t I? I haven’t brought a soul to my bedchamber all the while Finley has been working for me,” Alexandria said, and not without a hint of pride.
Luna was not convinced by her apparent restraint.
“Really? But it’s been weeks, Lexi, I know how bad you are. You must be going out of your mind,” Luna said.
“I have plenty of work to keep me occupied,” Alexandria said.
Luna’s grin was so wide that Finley could not help but say, “If you’re worried about me, I could always cover my ears.”
Now Alexandria looked over the settee, glowering at Finley. Finley thought she might make an idle threat along the lines of having her ears filled with burning wax, but Luna tugged her into a sidelong embrace and spoke in an excited whisper about Rydal.
Alexandria pretended not to listen to every word.
Finley left them to their privacy, heading across the room to distract herself with a book. It was not that she thought herself intruding or that Luna would be troubled by her overhearing anything she had to say, so much as it was bizarre to think that for all the time she had spent in that chamber and all the time she would spend in it still, she had never sat beside the princess on that settee, facing the fire.
Finley forced herself to remember that she wanted to find histories on the involvement of Thisia in Sine. It was difficult to believe that Luna was Sinite, that she was a prisoner in the palace, when she laughed as she did, nestled up with the princess.
Her search was not fruitful. Thisia did not use clear, honest language when discussing its influence on Sine. Before she could try a third book, Sir Kiln knocked on the doors, summoning them to the throne room.
Alexandria and Luna’s conversation fell to nothing. They walked side by side behind Sir Kiln, both silently mulling over the same matter, and Finley remained fast on their heels, causing the palace lights to splutter and fade.
The throne room was as the name suggested; a room with little more than a throne to occupy it, raised upon a dais. Finley had expected something more extravagant. The stained-glass windows were beautiful, sparrowhawk at the centre, feathers refracted into a whole spectrum of colour above the crystals rising from the bottom of the frame, but the space felt empty, wasteful.
Queen Briar sat upon her throne, Lady Delphine at her side. Alexandria made for the hidden steps leading to the dais and Finley followed her, always in her shadow. Luna remained with the others in the room: Sir Kiln and the gathered knights, half a dozen people of importance Finley didn’t recognise, and a number of scribes.
Prince Iyden and his retinue arrived not a moment later. Finley did not have time to fight off the urge to shuffle on the spot, to clear her throat and disturb the heavy silence.
He looked remarkably well. He was not the man crumpled on the floor, torn apart by magic, Finley had seen through the dust. Not only was his recovery a thing of the past, but Finley had scarcely seen someone look so jubilant, so pre-emptively victorious in the face of Queen Briar, Lady Delphine, and Princess Alexandria.
He was clearly dressed in his finest clothing. Prince Iyden’s tunic was black and silky, decorated with silver salamanders, and he wore a cape about his shoulders. Rydal stood by his side, playing the part of knight once more, and held a large wooden box in their hands. There were a number of other knights and guards, along with all the Sinite delegation that had made their way to Sunspire.
Finley had not expected there to be dozens of them.
She was grateful she was not expected to speak up.
“Prince Iyden,” Queen Briar said. “It is an honour to meet with you thus, and a true joy to see you so well.”
Bowing low, Prince Iyden said, “Thank you for your hospitality, and for the dedicated work of your healers and witches.”
With that last word, he glanced towards Luna.
Rydal did not.
“Thisia has always been willing to do anything it can to aid our neighbours,” Queen Briar said, dropping her mask of placidity the moment formalities were done with. “I speak for us all when I say we are more than eager to know what news you have brought us from Sine.”
Prince Iyden smiled. He bowed once more.
“I do apologise, Your Majesty, if this unfortunate delay has raised everyone’s expectations. It is the sort of news that could have been sent in a letter, but His Highness, my father, wished to share the news in person, that I might answer any questions you have.”
For as little time as she’d spent in the palace proper, Finley could tell Prince Iyden was not a man who enjoyed political intrigue. He had been born a prince but was not made for the games played by those in power. He shifted on the spot as he spoke and his gaze would not settle on Queen Briar.
“How very thoughtful of King Lucian,” Lady Delphine said.
Finley kept her eyes on Alexandria. She was the only Thisian royal not to speak up and watched Prince Iyden without her usual scathing judgement. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, patient, and only then did Finley notice the small, silver salamanders stitched into the leather of her gloves.
The queen had Thisia’s sparrowhawk embroidered into her sleeves and Lady Delphine wore a sparrowhawk brooch over her heart.
“I requested your time and hospitality to discuss – of all things – crystals! Now that there is time and healing between us and the unfortunate events in the palace grounds, I am beginning to see the irony in it all,” Prince Iyden began. No Thisian in the room was more than dully interested in what the prince said. “As you know, Sine has always had its own supply of crystals. A limited, slow-to-replenish supply, certainly nothing that can compare with Thisia’s, but crystals of our own, nonetheless. We would not be the country we are today without Thisia’s crystals, Your Majesty, and my father wished to emphasise that truth.
“We wished for our long-standing allies to be the first to know what we have discovered. Another supply of crystals, hidden deep below Waterdeep and discovered quite by accident!”
Prince Iyden beamed at no one in particular. The queen inclined her head, waiting for him to continue.
When he said no more, Queen Briar said, “I am sure that is most fortuitous for Sine. A nation is always right to be proud of its own resources.”
“Yes! And—” Prince Iyden gestured for Rydal to step forward, box in hand, but did not have them open it. “These crystals regenerate remarkably fast. Those mined are replaced in as little as six months! Their beauty is not to be discounted, either. We have always been grateful for Thisia’s willingness to share with us and for the witch Ilunatra’s fine, meticulous work, but these are unlike anything we have seen before.”
Now Queen Briar leant almost imperceptibly forward in her seat. Lady Delphine frowned, more wry disbelief than true worry, but the prince’s words kindled something within Alexandria. Finley would have never noticed it had she not been so often in her presence of late, but could see the hundred-branching thoughts roiling behind the princess’ eyes, though her posture and expression did not alter.
“Within a half-year, truly? I do not mean to doubt you, Prince Iyden, but Thisia’s crystals only grow to a usable size within three years. Unless you mean the crystal begins to spawn in that time, of course,” Queen Briar said, corrected, not remarking on Luna’s overshadowed skill.
“It seems almost too good to be true, doesn’t it?” Prince Iyden asked, finding his stride. “But we have tested it time and time again and the results are clear. I understand that this is a rather outlandish claim to make, and so my father permitted me to bring you a gift.”
Those not already mesmerised by the box Rydal held turned towards it. Rydal eased it open with their thumbs, and all anyone saw was a burst of light so bright it was impossible mere wood could’ve held it back for so long. Finley was the first to blink that light away and see the crystal clearly.
The crystal was the size of a skull, carved with such a multitude of tiny, precise facets that from a distance, it looked entirely smooth. Sine’s finest witches had worked on it, wanting to ensure Thisia paid heed to the warning packaged as a gift. It shone brighter than any Thisian crystal, something Finley thought truly impossible, and its light was softer, almost clearer, though it did not quite match the salt crystals of her dreams.
“May we?” Prince Iyden asked, gesturing to the box.
“By all means,” Queen Briar said.
At the prince’s command, Rydal walked towards the dais. Finley stepped closer to the princess’ side, remembering the sound of crystals singing and shattering too well to be remiss in her duties, and pressed an arm to hers.
Alexandria looked down, expression unchanging, but exhaled a near-silent laugh through her nose.
Rydal presented the crystal to the queen on her throne. They stooped so she could see it in all its glory but did not bow. Murmurs filled the throne room and Queen Briar spent long minutes scrutinising the crystal. It was all for show, Finley knew that, for what could anyone but a witch learn from a crystal that wasn’t immediately obvious?
“It is rather beautiful, but it is far too generous a gift. Does His Highness not wish to have it in the capital? Surely it will be the Jewel of Waterdeep,” Queen Briar said, leaning back in her throne.
Lady Delphine had not shown a jot of outward interest and Princess Alexandria remained rooted to the spot because of the gentle, insistent pressure Finley placed on her side.
“Not at all, Your Majesty! Sine could send a thousand such crystals and still not have repaid Thisia for all it has given our people,” Prince Iyden said. “And this is hardly the greatest we have uncovered, simply the easiest to transport all the way here.”
Queen Briar said not another word to the prince. She had walked blindly into one trap and would not let her audience, as few and as loyal to her as they were, witness Sine laud themselves over Thisia.
“Luna. Take this crystal from Prince Iyden’s knight,” Queen Briar ordered. “I expect that is why His Highness wished for you to be present. Though we have no reason to doubt our neighbours, I would be grateful if you confirmed all the prince has alluded to in his praise of these crystals.”
Luna hurried onto the dais. She greeted Rydal with a bow and a blush any onlooker would mistake for the focus so suddenly shifted onto her, and held out her arms to receive the box. She cradled it in her arms, transfixed by the crystal.
She did not need to study it. She understood it perfectly, and it understood her. Though the light of magic did not seep from Luna’s skin as it did the crystal’s shell, the energy that bound them, loose as a falling leaf and firm as the kingdom’s oldest oak, not needing to be seen to be felt. Magic peeled from her, blessing the room with the sweet scent of fenugreek.
Finley took a deeper breath, wanting to be certain she hadn’t imagined it. Inhale though she might, all she drew in was the frail, untrustworthy memory of what had not been.
Luna closed the box.
The spell was broken.
“I can’t wait to get back to my workshop,” she said, and forced herself to say it to the queen, not Rydal.
“We cannot thank you enough for your generous gift, Prince Iyden,” Lady Delphine said, stepping forward. “There is much reason to celebrate here, but I am sure you understand we may need a little time to digest this. We do so appreciate your king’s forethought in choosing to send the news in such a clear, direct manner.”
Prince Iyden did not miss the hint.
Bowing from the waist, he said, “It has been my honour and privilege to share this news with our closest allies. I thank you for your time and look forward to many discussions on the matter once you have a better understanding.”
The Sinites left. Sir Kiln held the doors open for them. The queen’s scribes were dismissed, Luna was ordered to begin work immediately, and the knights were made to wait outside.
Only Finley remained with the three royals, not sure how to extract herself from Alexandria’s side.
No one spoke. Alexandria did not try very hard to bite back a smile.
Queen Briar drummed her fingers on the arm of her throne.
“Oh, darling. Don’t let them put you so off kilter,” Lady Delphine finally said. “One untested crystal does not an endlessly renewable mine make. I doubt this is little more than a ploy to give Sine the advantage in whatever they truly came here to bargain over. You saw the crystal; it was all substance and certainly not the right colour. This isn’t the first time our neighbours have tried something of the sort. At least wait until the witch – and some of our own witches, might I suggest – have studied the crystal before you begin fretting.”
Finley did not doubt the crystal’s potency. Her throat was dry, and not because of the fear that so recently accompanied unexpected crystals. Her palms itched. She wanted the crystal back in the throne room, wanted to press her hands against it and feel the magic wither in her presence.
What if there was resistance? What if she experienced something other than a total lack of sensation as the magic was banished?
“I would give Sine a little more credit than that. They would not come all this way for something we could so easily disprove. Who knows crystals better than Thisia? Who has a more accomplished witch than we do?” Queen Briar murmured, speaking through her fog of thoughts. “Should we move more bodies into our Sinite outposts? I expect I should speak with our generals today and get a report from the border. It might be worth sending a delegation to—”
“Oh, cousin. Come now!” Alexandria said, pacing before the queen. “If Sine did not bring hell down upon us for almost killing their prince, they are not going to make such a song and dance about starting a war. This was an undeserved warning, Briar, a gentle hint that they now expect better treatment. If they don’t need our crystals, they can shed themselves of the conditions that come with them.”
Queen Briar let out all the disdain she’d buried in the Sinite’s presence in one sharp look at Alexandria.
“I know you have no respect for our family, Alexandria, but do try to spare a passing thought for our country and its citizens. If Sine no longer relies on our crystals, how, pray tell, do you suggest we rearrange Thisia’s entire infrastructure to procure the amount of grain and wool we need? Not to mention our gold supplies! And are you going to manifest an ocean for us to fish from?”
Alexandria waved a dismissive hand.
“You’ll think of something, Your Majesty. I have every faith in you,” she said.
Queen Briar allowed Alexandria to pace back and forth two more times before thrusting a hand towards the door.
“Go. Leave. I invite you to these sensitive meetings because I must, but you are ever intent on not only being entirely unhelpful, but actively getting in my way. Leave, now, before I say something we both will regret,” Queen Briar snapped. “And take those cursed gloves off. Don’t think they went unnoticed.”
Alexandria could not have been more obliging. She bowed to her cousin and aunt, the latter of which mouthed silent apologies, and set off at such a pace Finley had to jog to keep up with her.
Alexandria returned to her chambers, locked the doors behind her, and began rummaging through a cabinet where years, if not decades, worth of correspondences were kept. She sat cross legged on the floor, sorting through them so quickly Finley could not glimpse so much as the name of the sender, and organised them into a dozen unsteady piles. She muttered to herself, upbeat and incomprehensible, and would rush to the bookshelves every few minutes for another heavy tome.
Alexandria worked from the floor all afternoon. Her desk did not offer space enough for all the letters and texts she was cross-referencing, and when lunch was brought to her, she added it to the clutter enveloping her. Finley had never seen her work with such fervour. She did little more than click her tongue when she knocked over an ink pot, happiness not diminished by inconvenience or exhaustion.
Twice she called for Luna to be brought to her chambers. Both times she was told the royal witch was wholly occupied by the queen’s orders.
Finley lit the candles when Alexandria did not notice the room growing dark around her. She hadn’t spent her day digging through another book, nor had she napped, despite how early her day had started. Finley was content to curl up in the armchair only she ever seemed to use, watching the princess work, thorough and diligent and happy.
Only after dinner came did Alexandria cease working. She rose to her feet with a grunt, belatedly noticing the pain that had accumulated in her back. Having expected as much but knowing better than to interrupt her, Finley had Alexandria’s evening pills and a cup of tea ready for her.
Alexandria finished the tea in few quick sips, undeterred by the heat of it. Finley saw something in her expression she had not noticed before; it was nothing like embarrassment, nor was she flustered, but it was clear the princess had been so absorbed by her work that she had forgotten Finley was in the room.
Alexandria finished her day by heating wax and stamping her seal onto a dozen letters, ready to be sent off first thing in the morning. She poured herself the last of the wine that came with dinner, wine she was drinking much more sensibly than when it had been her only refuge from pain, and settled herself in front of the fire.
Finley fell into her chair, yawning. It wouldn’t be long before Alexandria dismissed her for the night and there was little point in finding something to entertain herself with.
“Come here, won’t you, Finley,” Alexandria called.
Finley hopped to her feet, rounded the settee, and reached for another log to add to the fire.
“That’s very thoughtful, but it wasn’t what I was asking,” Alexandria said, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. “Sit down. I have spent all day so lost in thought that it only just occurred to me that I have not spoken a word aloud to you.”
Finley obeyed, making herself as small as she could in the seat next to the princess. It was only that morning Luna had been there, sprawled all over Alexandria, and though Finley had stood close enough to the princess for their arms to press together, there was something in sitting together on the settee, watching the fire dance along its kindling as cold permeated the windows, that felt like overstepping bounds.
“And what do you make of the day’s revelations?” Alexandria asked.
“A lot. But not a lot that’s useful,” Finley admitted. “You and Her Majesty had very different reactions to it all. That crystal was beautiful, it made me feel like I could almost understand magic, but… I can’t tell if it’s good or bad if Sine have their own crystals.”
Alexandria sipped her wine, listening closely.
“It depends on who you are asking. Sine, like all the continent, has always had little choice but to rely on us for crystals since Thisia’s inception. Thisia is its crystals and the labyrinth below. Sine have crystals of their own, all nations do, but they are brittle and difficult to work with. Luna assures me that a simple Sinite light crystal cannot hold the magic within it for more than a matter of days and soon becomes functionally useless. So: it would mean a great deal for Sine if their newly discovered crystal deposits are as bountiful as they claim. They would not be forced to trade away the better part of their resources.”
“And if I asked Thisia?”
“That is where things become more difficult,” Alexandria said. She enjoyed talking about this, was glad of an audience, and Finley found she did not mind indulging her. “My cousin gave a brief list of the imports we rely on from Sine: wool, certain grains, gold, and seafood, to name a few. All things that require time and space, and are incredibly labour-intensive. Because of our trade agreements with Sine, much of Thisia is free to pursue other interests. It is why so many of our citizens are able to specialise in the study of law, politics, healing, and whatnot. It allows us an unprecedented deal of leisure, while demanding near-ceaseless labour from our neighbours. And what do they get for their labours? Many of them live in poverty still. And do not make the mistake of believing they could simply stop trading with Thisia and keep all they produce; they work to our benefit, and Thisia would find a way to take what they want with or without handing over crystals in an unfair exchange.”
Finley took the time to truly understand the information. Alexandria nursed her wine and did not once urge Finley to think faster.
“Then it’s good for Sine. It means they don’t need to rely on us for crystals, Thisia can’t use that as their excuse anymore, and that they can keep more of what they produce—or produce less of it, and have more time for other things,” Finley said, a little uncertain. Her teeth worried her lower-lip and the princess gave a single nod of encouragement. “And Thisia wouldn’t be happy about that. We’d have to start using more of our land for agriculture and we can’t get a lot of things like seafood, so we’d have to trade other things, or with other countries.”
“Exactly so.”
“Oh! But Sine could trade crystals with Katares and Iterae, too, couldn’t they? Thisia would have competition.”
“Ah. You understand the scope of the problem,” Alexandria said. “It is no exaggeration to say that this could change the entire landscape of Thisia within a handful of years.”
Alexandria had her legs tucked under herself, her knees pointed towards Finley. Finley hoped it was only the firelight warming her face; it was a long time since she had been in school and never had she been so pleased to get a question right.
“Wait,” Finley said, expression twisting itself with confusion. “How are Sine getting crystals that powerful? I understand they just hadn’t mined that far before, that makes sense, but Thisia’s crystals are that way because of the Beast.”
“My, Finley,” Alexandria said, leaning side-on against the backrest of the settee. “Now you’re asking the real questions. I do wonder if my dear cousin has made her way to that point, yet. What do you make of it?”
Finley was not sure when she had become comfortable on the settee, but relaxing made thinking much easier.
“There are two options, I guess. Either Thisia has been – well, not lying, but using the Beast as part of its, um—”
“Mythology around the crystals?”
“Right! It’s used the Beast to make something natural sound more impressive, like it’s tied to Thisia and our slaying of the Beast, or there’s something under Sine, too.”
Alexandria grinned. Finley was so taken with the expression that it took a few, long seconds for to realise the implications of her own words.
Thisia’s Beast was trapped in a labyrinth and had been slain time and time again, but whatever lived in the dark spaces beneath Sine had not been tamed or trapped by human hands.
“Well done. Here: finish this wine, won’t you?”
Alexandria held out her glass. Finley knew better than refuse her and accepted her reward, glass warmed by Alexandria’s grasp. She brought the glass to her mouth, taking care not to drink from the side the princess had pressed her lips against.
Finley did not often drink, much less indulge in wine, but immediately understood that it was not what they drank in the servants’ hall, not what they served in Thisia’s taverns. The taste danced down to her fingertips, overwhelming but light; rich, yet so thin her tongue grazed the backs of her teeth for more.
“Would you like to know something? Something about me, Finley?” Alexandria asked.
The princess had the same energy to her as she had when Prince Iyden revealed the truth of his visit. Finley tipped the glass back, finishing the last mouthful, and belatedly worried she ought to have saved it for Alexandria.
“I wouldn’t mind,” she said, cradling the empty glass between both hands. “You know a lot about me. I think it’d be nice.”
“It isn’t a nice story, I’m afraid. You’ll have to ask Luna if that’s the sort of thing you wish to hear,” Alexandria said. “Do you know why I was denied my throne, Finley? Why I was passed over for succession?”
Finley shook her head before Alexandria had finished her question.
“Oh, don’t give me that nonsense. And here I was thinking that you might be smart,” Alexandria chided. “Come. Tell me what they say about me beneath the palace.”
“Lots of things? That doesn’t mean any of them are true, or that I think they’re true,” Finley said, shoulders by her ears. All the princess had to do was keep her eyes on her and Finley’s mouth started moving again. “Some people said it was a technicality. After King Nicolas adopted Queen Briar, that made her his oldest daughter, and it wasn’t legal for you to take the throne. Or, um. I heard that you didn’t want the throne, that you didn’t want the work, and that, uh—”
“And?”
“And that King Nicholas didn’t like you,” Finley said, voice weakening with every word.
Alexandria’s mouth curled into a smile, teeth showing. It was cutting, fierce, and she delighted in it.
“That is the closest any of them have got. I commend whoever came up with such a vicious rumour,” Alexandria said. She propped her chin on her fist, her elbow on the back of the settee. “The truth, Finley, is that I do not like Thisia. I do not like what it stands for or how it operates. I had very clear intentions for my tenure as queen: I would see all nations who wished it unannexed, I would ensure that Sine in particular was free, that they were not ever toiling in field and mine and boat for our betterment, share our crystals freely, dismantle the systems of rule, and I would give Luna her freedom. I am no fool. I understand that these are lofty ambitions, but I had spent my entire life preparing for my reign.
“I would have decades of near-impossible work ahead of me, but I would see it done. As you can imagine, this did not prove popular with the rest of my family, but I will admit on thing: I grew arrogant. I thought myself untouchable. My father was on his deathbed and I thought myself safe. I thought my future promised. But at the last minute…”
Alexandria sighed, waving a hand. Finley knew the rest and it was tiresome to reiterate over and over.
Finley examined the glass in her hands. It was not large enough for the wine within to have meddled with her mind. She could scarcely understand what Alexandria said, could not imagine a princess saying such things; surely guards would burst through the doors at any moment, there to have them both arrested for treason.
Try though she might, she could not imagine how any country could run itself without a monarchy. The palace had always stood in Sunspire; it was the heart of Thisia, the pulse of its culture, its laws, its prosperity.
But Alexandria was not a woman who lied. She did not toy with people.
“Alexandria,” was all Finley said, for a long moment. The name dissolved on the tip of her tongue, dangerous yet unguarded. “I think that’s—”
She could not find the words. She could not comprehend all the once promised Queen Alexandria would have doubtlessly achieved, had power been hers.
“Well? It is rude to leave one in suspense for so long, Finley,” Alexandria said, but her voice was low.
“I think it’s a really nice thing to do,” Finley managed.
Alexandria laughed, loud and free, shoulders shaking. She took the wine glass from Finley’s hands and placed it safely on the floor, as though fearing she might destroy it in her mirth.
“A nice thing to do? What praise,” Alexandria said. “And the only sort worth getting. Thank you for indulging me, Finley. We shall see what freedoms Sine claims of its own accord in the days to come. It is, perhaps, better this way. The way things always ought to have been, one might say. I may do well to put all this bitterness about losing my throne behind me. There will be more than enough work for us in the days to come.”
And then, though the princess dismissed her, Finley dared to spend a few more stolen minutes enjoying the warmth of the fire, the taste of wine still blossoming on her tongue.