[ Asterion ] Book One, Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Finley dreamt of a mask of bone.
She dreamt she found it lying in the sand, as she had found so many other bones in that dry place. She dreamt that its empty eyes stared up at her, beckoning her close. She dreamt she knelt, sand and shells and salt crushed beneath her boots, and reached out to the mask of bone.
She dreamt the skull began to sink. She dreamt the sand took it, and the void below took the sand; she dreamt she stared into darkness, into the black of the below, and she dreamt of the labyrinth as the shifting sand pulled her down, down.
She awoke with a headache.
The day had was foreboding enough with the promise of sitting down and discussing the business of Sine with Queen Briar and Lady Delphine. Finley wondered exactly how betrayed Alexandria would make a show of being if she sent Ocari upstairs on her behalf to explain that she was too unwell to drag herself out of bed.
Pulling her uniform on, Finley brewed herself bitterwillow tea with her breakfast. She couldn’t leave Alexandria to face Queen Briar and Lady Delphine alone, no matter how viscerally uncomfortable it made her; she wasn’t even related to the royals in question.
Seeing Rydal outside of Alexandria’s chambers did away with the last of her headache.
They leant against the wall, boot scuffing the wallpaper, and greeted her with a lazy wave.
“Rydal!” Finley said, tugging them into a hug. “You’re really Alexandria’s knight, then?”
“Yeah. We’re both her pet, now.”
Glad Rydal could not see what their words did to her face, Finley squeezed them tightly, not letting go until she’d recovered.
“I’m glad she has someone she can really trust. Besides, Amarata works far too many hours,” Finley said.
“Right. It’s part of the deal. My release,” Rydal said, waving a hand. “I’m pretending to protect the princess, but it’s just so Thisia can keep an eye on me.”
“Either way, as little sense as this all makes, I’m happy you’re here! Oh, and you don’t have to stand here all day, you know? Alexandria won’t mind if you want to come in and sit down. You can eat with us, too!”
Rydal raised a brow but said nothing. They opened the chamber doors and ushered her in.
Alexandria was sat at her vanity, pulling her hair out of its braids.
“Ah. Excellent,” Alexandria said to Finley’s reflection. “We shall be breakfasting with the more prominent members of my family. I thought it wise to get all this horrid business over and done with, and I have meetings from midday.”
Alexandria wasn’t as dour as Finley expected. She suffered no headache, and there was that bizarre claim Alexandria made of never dreaming to take into consideration. There was a buzz of energy about her, a subtle, giddy excitement Finley doubted anyone but her would notice, that said she was anticipating getting to insult somebody.
Before Finley could answer, Rydal let Rosa into the chamber.
“Princess! Welcome back, Princess, it truly is wonderful to see you again,” Rosa said, curtseying. “I heard from Finley that you’d returned yesterday, but I thought you’d appreciate having the time to reacquaint yourself with your chambers before I intruded. It must have been so very exhausting, travelling all the way from Sine, and I’m sure your quarters there weren’t as comfortable as your own! Now, I understand that you’ll be taking breakfast with Her Majesty—may I help you get ready, Princess?”
Alexandria stared at Rosa, all excitement momentarily retreating. With a great sigh, as though Rosa had asked the world of her, Alexandria held out her silver hairbrush. Rosa rushed over, barely able to contain herself. She took it upon herself to inform Alexandria of all the palace gossip, half of which Finley knew wasn’t remotely true, and asked all sorts of questions about Sine.
Alexandria gave begrudging answers, not wanting to fuel the rumours Rosa would take back any further.
Finley paced the room. There was little point in making herself comfortable with breakfast looming. She watched Rosa style Alexandria’s hair, then moved to the windows. Summer was not far off. The grounds were awash with a golden light, and the shadows of the fences surrounding the palace spread long and thin across the empty, wasted space.
Rydal accompanied them to that first dining hall Finley had endured a meal with the queen and her mother in. More than anything, the sight of Queen Briar and Lady Delphine told her she was back in Thisia and that all its rules applied more than ever.
Alexandria pulled a chair out for Finley. Either she had ordered breakfast for herself and her foil, or it was taken for granted by the palace staff that Finley would eat when the princess did. Finley sat down, hands clasped together and told herself that she had been invited to Sine; she belonged there.
Not at that table or with those people, but for that meal, at least.
“Good morning, darling. I don’t remember the last time we had breakfast together. It’s all very novel,” Lady Delphine said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to have this conversation as soon as you possibly could, though. Did you sleep well?”
“Very. Thank you, aunt. It is always a pleasure to return to one’s own bed,” Alexandria said, spreading a napkin across her lap. “Good morning, cousin. I trust the kingdom did not fall apart in my absence.”
Not wanting to start the morning arguing, Queen Briar said, “Hardly anything of interesting has happened these past weeks. Tea?”
“Please.”
A footman stepped forward, pouring the tea for Alexandria.
Lady Delphine was the first to start eating. Finley made an effort to mimic her, but she was full from the breakfast she’d had downstairs and certain someone would call on her the moment she had food in her mouth.
“It is amazing the difference five-hundred miles will make to a breakfast,” Alexandria mused. “And it is not merely that Sine uses different ingredients and has their own idea of what constitutes a breakfast; often they serve the same dishes we have in such unique ways that they become something new altogether.”
“I’ve no doubt. Often I’ve felt that a breakfast in Katares is more akin to a lunch in Iterae,” Lady Delphine said. “I know one will always be biased to what they are used to, but I consider myself travelled enough to stand by my claim that only Thisia does breakfast properly.”
Queen Briar, never overly eager to engage Alexandria, had not once looked her mother’s way. Finley tried not to notice, tried not to stare, but it was difficult with the queen sat before her.
Catching Finley’s eye, Queen Briar said, “And how did you find your time in Sine, Finley? Was it what you expected?”
Lady Delphine and Alexandria were happy to continue their conversation on the regional variations between breakfast dishes. Queen Briar was not asking this for show, or to make some point. Finley could indulge her without betraying Alexandria.
“It was so much more than I expected, Your Majesty. You hear all sorts of things about Sine, about how it’s—I don’t know, poor, different, and maybe it is. Different, anyway. But there was so much there. The country was incredible. I’d read about fjords in books but I’d never pictured them properly. You hear Sine and you think of one thing, one place, but it’s—not big. That’s not what I mean. It’s—different! Everyone there is different from everyone else, even if they’re all Sinite. And the people were so kind. The ones I met, anyway. King Lucian couldn’t have been a better host,” Finley said.
Queen Briar nodded politely, smile not travelling much further than the corners of her mouth. Perhaps it was not the wisest idea to speak of the kingdom Thisia had spent centuries subjugating as vibrant alive and worthy of the same consideration Thisia was to its queen.
“I’m glad your journey was worthwhile,” Queen Briar said, in time.
Noticing her daughter speaking with Finley, Lady Delphine said, “But let’s get to the meat of the matter. You saw the mines, didn’t you, darling? Tell me it’s all much of nothing, won’t you?”
Alexandria placed her cutlery on her half-cleared plate and took a long sip of her tea.
“Unfortunately, it is not within my power to do such a thing, unless you wish to be lied to,” Alexandria pretended to take no pleasure in saying. “Their crystal cavern is immense, almost beyond all reason. The crystal Sine gifted us is hardly the most impressive of them.”
Lady Delphine leant back in her seat, frowning. Queen Briar covered her reaction with a mouthful of food.
“And do you believe Sine could truly stand against us?” Lady Delphine asked, never once considering the Sinites thought of their crystals as anything but weapons.
“Not yet. We have some years until their stockpile of crystals is greater than ours,” Alexandria admitted.
“Then there’s still time,” Lady Delphine said. “We ought to send more soldiers to our outposts and otherwise increase our presence in Sine. If new treaties are drafted, we can—”
“I don’t believe that the wisest path forward,” Queen Briar cut in. Her voice trembled the slightest fraction, as though she was not the sole ruler of all Thisia. “Sine not being guaranteed to win a war does not mean they will not wage one, if pushed. We could defeat them, we surely could, but not without great casualties on our side. Not without leaving Thisia bereft of workers. It would affect how the entire continent views us.”
Alexandria lifted the napkin from her lap and dabbed the corners of her mouth.
Lady Delphine lowered her fork and said, “Then what do you suggest Thisia do? Should we sit here and wait for the Sinites to have the largest reserves of crystals on the continent? You speak of casualties in a war we are the victors of, but what of those in a war we lose?”
Catching Queen Briar’s eye, Alexandria gave the slightest nod of encouragement.
“There are other ways to protect Thisia and benefit from Sine’s crystals,” Queen Briar said, doing her best to sound firm. “Alexandria went to Sine with two goals, if you remember. How did you fare, cousin?”
Alexandria and Queen Briar sat diagonally from one another, and both turned accordingly to face the other. Finley did not understand what it meant for them to be arguing the same point, and neither did they.
“Rather well. Princess Rada is a most obliging sort of person with an excellent head on her shoulders. Like me, she truly understands the extent of what she can do to protect Sine,” Alexandria said. “I believe I ought to invite the princess to visit Thisia. From there, the rest will follow naturally.”
Finley tugged at her napkin beneath the table. There was the truth of it: she had promised that everything would return to normal once they reached Sine, had sworn to be nothing but a foil, a servant, and so it would come to pass. Alexandria had never wavered in her intention to marry Princess Rada as part of a sacrifice to Thisia and Sine both, and it did not matter that it was not what she wanted.
She would do it for the good of everyone but herself.
“Wonderful. I should like to help draft the invitation,” Queen Briar said.
“If you must.”
Lady Delphine placed her fork on her plate with a clnk.
“Darlings, I understand that your hearts are both in the right place, but is the situation so very dire that we would throw away all your father achieved, all your grandmother and her mother before her did for Thisia, to place ourselves as equals with Sine? The continent has only thrived as it has these past centuries because Thisia has cared for all corners of it, protecting it from the Labyrinthine Beast at its very centre.”
Finley knitted her fingers together, feeling an echo of the bones shifting within the crystal, moving without muscle through the dense, impenetrable walls surrounding it.
“Let us invite Princess Rada to Thisia first before we go to more extreme matters, hm?” Alexandria said.
Her aunt wiped her hands on her napkin, done with the whole affair, and got to her feet. She excused herself, claiming she had another meeting to attend to, but really, she was so glad to see Alexandria home safely.
Alexandria, Finley, and Queen Briar finished their meals in near-companiable silence. Finley speared the better part of her breakfast onto a fork and slipped it onto Alexandria’s plate, hoping the queen wouldn’t notice.
“Well,” Alexandria said, getting to her feet. “This has been enlightening, cousin.”
Queen Briar nodded an agreement. Finley stood by Alexandria’s side, ready to bow her farewell.
“It has. I meant what I said, Alexandria. Come to me when you find yourself with time to spare and we shall work on that invitation together,” Queen Briar said.
She did her utmost not to make a demand of it and Alexandria suppressed the urge to bristle.
“I shall. Farewell,” Alexandria said, leaving with a bow.
They reached the doors before Queen Briar rose to her feet, calling after them.
“Alexandria. Wait,” she said. Alexandria and Finley instinctively turned back to find the queen’s face tinged a pale, frustrated red. “I wanted to say—that is, I wanted to apologise for taking Finley from you and replacing her with another foil. I will not claim my intentions were wholly pure, but I did not understand the extent of the situation. I did not mean to cause the harm I so clearly did. Finley, it was not my place to relieve you of your duties. I’m sorry.”
Finley stared at Queen Briar, frozen in place. Alexandria, similarly shocked, balked a laugh.
“God. First you take my side in an incredibly fraught matter, and then you apologise to me? Did you hit your head while I was away, perchance?” Alexandria asked.
Her defences had got the better of her. Queen Briar frowned, looking very much as though she wished to take every word back and never speak with Alexandria again.
Finley jabbed two fingers against the small of Alexandria’s back, careful to avoid her scars.
Gritting her teeth, Alexandria said, “That was insensitive of me. It was not long ago that Finley here suffered a concussion and I oughtn’t make light of that. Furthermore, I should appreciate being informed if you are injured in the future, cousin. And I suppose I am glad to know that you were not being entirely malicious in depriving me of my foil. If I accept your apology, will you agree to never meddle with my personal staff again?”
Queen Briar exhaled, shoulders falling in relief. It was as close to delicate as Alexandria would ever be with her.
“That’s very gracious of you, Alexandria. You have my word,” Queen Briar said.
Alexandria wisely excused herself before she could say anything to ruin the moment. Rydal fell into step with her, escorting them back to the princess’ chambers, but Alexandria walked at such a brisk pace even they had trouble keeping up.
“Did you hear that, Finley? I haven’t damaged my skull, have I? God. I believe you may well have witnessed my cousin thinking for herself for the very first time at the ripe age of thirty-six,” Alexandria said, grinning.
Finley didn’t have time to reply, nor was she granted the chance to linger on Princess Rada’s inevitable visit to Thisia. Two guards had replaced Rydal outside Alexandria’s chambers, and Ocari and a rather nervous, well-dressed man stood opposite them.
“Ah. Cedric Heath, I presume?” Alexandria said, holding out a hand.
“Y-yes, Your Majesty. I hope I’m not early, only it’s—it’s such an honour to be invited, it truly is,” he said, shaking the proffered hand.
“Not at all. Ocari would not have brought you here if your timing was not perfect. If anything, I am running late,” Alexandria said, gesturing towards the door. “Shall we? I’ll have to ask you to temporarily surrender any crystals to my foil, you understand.”
“Oh, Princess, I followed your instructions for the letter. I don’t have a single one on my person,” Cedric said, bowing at odd intervals.
Taking his word, Alexandria had Rydal hold the door open for her guest. Finley had seen Alexandria take more meetings that she could count with all manner of people, but never before had Alexandria been so eager to greet someone. Finley thought back to the letters she had delivered the evening before but could not remember any of the names inked upon them.
Still, the princess had invited Cedric. That spoke volumes.
The pair of them headed straight to the far wall, where the bulk of Alexandria’s paintings hung. Cedric gasped, held his hat to his chest, and searched for a handkerchief to mop his brow with.
“I always imagined your personal collection would be impressive, but this is beyond anything I could’ve hoped for,” Cedric murmured. “Goodness, look at that—an early Easton, from before she had any notable patrons. And is that one of Greenhorn’s works? My goodness, Princess, my colleagues and I thought that a lost piece! We’ve the rest of the collection on display and an empty space where this ought to be, with a placard explaining that its whereabouts are unknown. This is incredible. It’s beyond incredible.”
“You honour me,” Alexandria said, far from displeased to show off the art she had on display.
The pair talked for almost an hour. Finley soon discerned that Cedric was the head curator of one of Thisia’s most prominent art museums, and that each painting in Alexandria’s possession, the pieces Finley barely bothered glancing at most days, were exhibitions in and of themselves.
“It truly has been a privilege to be invited, Princess. Would you object to me writing a paper on the matter and perhaps correcting a few of our placards?” Cedric said, eyes never leaving the wealth of paintings.
“I most certainly wouldn’t,” Alexandria said. “Now. Which of these paintings would you like?”
“Pardon me?”
“You seem fond of a good number of them. Which would you like?”
Forcing a laugh, Cedric said, “Who would not consider themselves the most blessed person in all of Thisia to be in possession of one of these? It is our country’s history, our culture, rendered in oils. I could never choose between them.”
“Wonderful. Then take them all.”
Bowing his head and mopping his forehead once more, Cedric said, “I apologise. I’m afraid I do not follow, Princess. The fault is mine.”
“I did not bring you all the way here merely to boast of my private collection. I wish for it to be reallocated to the galleries of Sunspire. I am asking which would be most fitting in your museum,” Alexandria said.
Cedric gripped the back of a nearby armchair, close to fainting.
*
Ocari stood at the palace gates, early by all accounts, but sick of being swarmed in their office. For the past week, half their staff had got it into their heads that Princess Alexandria was selling off her personal belongings because the royal family was in financial danger and there’d be nothing left for their wages.
It had been this way day after day. Ocari was constantly going back and forth, greeting guests at the gates and personally escorting them to the princess’ chambers. Carriages had started arriving to collect anything from artwork to small, jewelled trinkets, a great many of them headed for Sine. Ocari had firmly decided that it was none of their business.
At their side, Amarata squinted through the gates, trying to pick out the princess’ next guest amongst the passing crowd.
“She won’t tell me what this is all about,” Amarata said, frowning.
“I keep telling you not to trouble yourself with it. All you’ll get out of it is one hell of a headache. It’s not like anything the princess has ever done has made much sense to the lot of us,” Ocari said. “Besides, ain’t you off-duty? She’s got that Sinite knight to replace you, aye?”
Amarata did not quite take it for the playful teasing Ocari meant it as.
“I have not been replaced. Sir Mazur and I are simply working in shifts. It is not uncommon for a princess to have more than one knight in her service,” Amarata said.
“Then why aren’t you sleeping? You look knackered.”
Shrugging, Amarata said, “Such is the lot of a knight or guard. I have never developed a healthy sleep schedule.”
“And you’re nosy.”
“And I’m nosy, yes.”
Ocari laughed. They’d missed Amarata, those long weeks she’d be gone. It was rare to for Ocari to find someone they could confide in, who they could comfortably call a friend; all their staff were under their purview and answered to them, and they answered to all those upstairs. There was Luna, they’d never discount her importance in their life, but they felt a fierce sort of protectiveness towards her, something teetering towards parental.
But a knight they could truly befriend. A knight they could confide in, could wander the city with and act like a normal damn person around.
“Ah. Reckon that might be our guest,” Ocari said.
A person in a wheelchair rolled theirself towards the gates, invitation in one hand, confident enough to not doubt their right to be there. The guards looked over the invitation, handed it back, and had the gates opened.
“That explains the ramps,” Amarata murmured to Ocari.
“God, I wish she’d tell us why she makes these demands,” Ocari said, laughing. “Princesses, eh?”
The gates were closed behind the princess’ latest guest. People gathered at the fences, intrigued to see one of their own not having to sneak in through the servants’ entrance, and the guest waved in greeting.
“I expect you’re Verity, aye? Good to meet you. I’m Ocari, head of the staff around these parts. And this here is Sir Kiln, not here on any official business, but good enough to keep me company,” Ocari said.
Verity grinned and said, “I remember Sir Kiln. She stood watch outside my workshop while the princess was browsing and scared all my customers away.”
Amarata bowed her apology.
“You’ll have to tell me about that later,” Ocari said. “But you know the gist of the ground rules, don’t you? No crystals?”
Verity held up their empty hands and said, “Not a single one. Fin told me all about that problem months ago.”
Ocari swept out an arm, leading Verity into the palace. Alexandria had insisted ramps be put in place at the main entrance without deigning to explain why and Ocari was glad to save theirself the embarrassment of being anything less than the perfect host.
Verity chatted cheerfully as they wheeled theirself through the corridors, delighted to be there, and exhibited none of the nerves the princess’ other guests had. It helped that they apparently knew the princess and Finley already. Ocari would have to get that story out of Amarata once they were done there.
The stairs to Alexandria’s chambers would have posed too great a problem. Ocari belatedly understood why Alexandria had insisted the meeting take place in the library, and why she had Ocari’s staff working to search every inch of it for crystals at such short notice.
Ocari saw Verity to the library, announced their arrival, and made their exit before the conversation within reached their ears. Rydal, stood vaguely to attention outside the library, yawned widely.
“You really don’t know what this is all about?” Ocari asked Amarata as they headed back to Ocari’s office.
“The princess hasn’t breathed a word about it around me. She clamps her mouth shut whenever I enter the room,” Amarata said.
Despite her recent, regular visits downstairs, plenty of the staff were still intimidated by Amarata. Ocari made it to their office with little trouble and settled down to the tea tray that moment left for them.
“But you’re getting on with her better of late, aye? Seems like going all that way to Sine really knocked something lose,” Ocari said.
Amarata shrugged one shoulder, supposing it was true.
“It wasn’t the constant, close proximity that did it. I truly believe the princess is stubborn enough to ignore me for weeks on end, if left to her own devices. Would you believe that any progress made between us was purely because Finley had the unimaginable bravery to talk back to Alexandria, to demand she treat me better?”
Ocari leant back in their seat, tea warm between their hands. The cooling crystal in the corner of the room kept their surroundings fresh and crisp, though summer was creeping upon them.
“I can’t explain it, but Finley’s been a good influence on our princess.”
Amarata frowned. She sipped her tea, went to speak, but thought better of it.
“What? Don’t go baiting me like that,” Ocari said.
“Perhaps the princess hasn’t been such a good influence on Finley.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Our Finley’s never stepped a toe out of line.”
Amarata raised her brow. For a moment, Ocari refused to understand the painfully obvious implication.
“No. No,” Ocari said, all four chair legs clipping the ground. “Now I won’t go believing that, Amarata. Tell me it’s all in your head, girl.”
Clearly unhappy to be having this conversation at all, Amarata looked away and murmured, “The doors in Sine are only so thick.”
“God. But—but Finley, she’s only a wean! And the princess?”
Ocari scrunched their face up.
“Finley’s thirty-five,” Amarata pointed out.
“She’s a baby,” Ocari said. “But I know what you’re like, Amarata. You can’t help yourself when you see trouble coming.”
“I tried to prevent it. I truly did. I even—” And here Amarata placed her head in her hands, speaking to the top of Ocari’s desk. “I even invited Finley back to my chambers. For a nightcap.”
No longer needing to reckon with exactly what emotion the revelation ignited within them, Ocari burst into laughter and slapped their knee.
“Have a laugh, Amarata. Don’t tell me you were going to heroically sacrifice yourself and sleep with Finley to prevent a disaster,” they said through wheezes.
“It was the preferable outcome at the time. And Finley is… she’s an exceedingly nice person. It is hardly as though I would be subjecting myself to anything terrible,” Amarata said.
“God. You’re not kidding, that’s the worst part of this. We’ve gotta get you sorted, Amarata. Get you with one of those lasses who’s always eyeing you up at the tavern. You’d be a whole lot less worked up by all of this if you got laid,” Ocari said, finding it hard to talk around their grin. “Aye, but you know you’ve gotta take this to your grave. Can you imagine how bad this will be for everyone involved if word gets out? If Rosa finds out? I’ve known that princess of ours to be thoughtless at times, but this really takes the piss. One of us has to find a way to have a quiet word with her about propriety and keeping up appearances.”
“You can do it. You’ve known her longer,” Amarata grunted.
Ocari chuckled to theirself, shaking their head. It wasn’t funny. Nothing about it was remotely funny, not with the open secret that Princess Alexandria was to marry her equivalent in Sine, and there’d be trouble to come. These things never went unnoticed. Still, they weren’t dealing with this alone. Having Amarata to laugh at made it infinitely easier to start comprehending what this meant for any of them.
*
Verity hoisted theirself out of their wheelchair, wanting to get the full experience the palace had to offer. They settled into one of the library armchairs, patting the thick padding of the upholstered arms, and nodded to theirself, impressed.
Finley’s initial excitement at seeing Verity had done away with much of her confusion. It had been like this for days: Alexandria had one meeting after another, all of them with people from outside the palace, curators and collectors and proprietors, and there was scarcely a moment in the day when they were alone. Finley had not yet found time to ask the questions building within her, for she had never known palace life to be so busy.
People arrived with gloved hands and padded cases, reams of thick, protective canvas, and took all they wanted from Alexandria’s chambers. Some paid handsomely for the trinkets they took, while much was donated to various institutions around Thisia. Even more was sent to Sine, where it had originally belonged.
Finley soon learnt that the princess owned far more than was displayed in her chambers, and plenty of the books in storage now graced the shelves of Sunspire’s public libraries.
Whatever Alexandria was doing, whatever this all amounted to, was some manner of good. It was confusing, but Finley did not doubt Alexandria was doing what she believed to be in the best interest of Thisia. Finley took quiet pleasure in seeing Alexandria so active, so motivated, delighting in doing something so tangible.
“Thank you for joining me, Verity,” Alexandria said, sitting opposite them.
Finley sat next to Alexandria. Usually, she kept back during meetings of the sort, but Verity had been her friend for years.
Grinning, Verity placed their one leg on a footrest and said, “Nonsense, Princess. Who’d rightly turn down an invitation to come mooch around the royal palace? Plus, it’s been too long since I last got to see Fin. You’ve been dragging her away to Sine and all sorts.”
“Indeed. She is a valued companion, though she dragged me to Sine,” Alexandria said. “I invited you here today to discuss your business.”
“Figured it wasn’t just for small talk. Go on, Princess. Let’s hear it. If it’s about that money you invested in the place…” Verity trailed off, sucking a breath through their teeth. “I don’t have it to hand, let’s put it that way.”
“It isn’t that. Well, it is loosely relatedly, I suppose. I would like to propose that you stop charging money for your wares,” Alexandria said.
Finley’s head whipped around, staring at Alexandria in an open confusion only matched by Verity.
“Is that so?” Verity said, rubbing their chin. “Now, what you gave me was mighty generous, there’s no denying that, but it won’t last forever.”
“Indeed it will not. That is why I should like to suggest a… partnership, of sorts. If you recall, I was shocked by how little you charged for your medications, as life-altering as they are. But there is absolutely no point in making them if people cannot afford them, is there? The more I have thought about it, the stranger it seems that anyone should have to pay for something so vital. I have the privilege of being in a position where I shall never have to go without anything, crystals notwithstanding, and as princess, I ought to extend that advantage – that right – to my citizens,” Alexandria said. “I should like to personally finance your workshop. Tools, ingredients, enough to cover all your needs, and whatever else you may need. I also believe several of my contacts would be helpful in importing components you cannot easily obtain.”
Verity made no reply. How could they? Finley was grateful Verity was in the room. She wanted to take Alexandria’s hands, wanted to wrap her arms around her. She wanted to hold her so tightly that Alexandria felt her heart pound and understood exactly how good a person she was, and how much it meant to Finley.
She hated that Verity was there. She didn’t even dare breathe gratitude on their behalf.
In time, Verity narrowed their eyes.
“So, what’s the catch? I’m working for you, am I? Do I have to move here, to the palace? Because if you want my goods reaching the masses, that’s not going to help,” Verity said.
“You won’t be working for me. I shall procure medication from you, but you will be your own agent. You do not have to move your workshop, unless you wish to move into a more suitable premises. I can have the agreement drafted in writing and offer you access to a lawyer to go over the terms with you, that you might make your amendments.”
A smile spread across Verity’s face, eyes alight with the branching possibilities ahead of them. Finley had heard them bemoan all the useful plants that grew in Iterae beyond their reach, and now Alexandria was opening a whole new world to them. Countless people would be helped by this, and Finley had the distinct feeling that it was only the start.
Sine had changed something in Alexandria.
Sine was impossible to leave behind, to relegate to the past. Part of it was in them both.
Finley allowed herself to shuffle a little closer to Alexandria.
“God, Fin. You know how to pick your friends, don’t you?” Verity said, laughing. “Princess, I’d get up and hug you if I wouldn’t embarrass myself stumbling over.”
Alexandria assured them it was quite alright. Eagerly, Verity began to question how it would work, ironing out the finer details, and Finley had no shortage of ideas to contribute. She’d been a customer of theirs for years, had gone to other herbal healers before that, and you stand outside, deaf to all of this.
It does not concern you, but you wish for us to be concerned with you. Sir Rydal Mazur, traitor to the kingdom that nurtured you, standing guard over a Thisian princess. A thief, a liar; is there anything you aren’t? You pride yourself on being Sinite, grew up promising never to forgive Thisia for all they did to your home, but how quickly you forget yourself to save your own skin.
And why are you here now? You are out of their view, beyond their hearing. Finley does not think of you as she speaks with the stranger, the apothecary, for what use are you to her there? You are not the only one in this palace, in your new prison quarried from the same stone that surrounds the Sunless below.
Have you forgotten your duty? That is all you are here for. It took you decades to reach this point, and you became so many people to get here. Yet the Sunless is not free. She has not returned to the place she belongs; you have not saved her.
But look at this palace, Rydal: cut it in half, in half again, into slices. See all the chambers, all the corridors, the storage rooms, the hiding places. There are nine-hundred and twenty-six chambers. Can you not stand to see them all at once? Are you not the Eyes of God?
There is the queen. She is not alone in her chambers. She meets with outsiders, with guests invited from Sunspire, as the princess does. Only she acts for herself, not the good of all Thisia. Perhaps you ought to have become her knight. Oh, but it is not all selfish—or it is not a selfishness that is undeserved. She is speaking of dogs. She enquires after a litter of puppies. It has been long indeed since she had a four-legged companion.
And there goes her mother, taking up all the corridor as she marches down it, determined to speak with one of Thisia’s ministers. Determined to speak for her daughter, though she has not been given permission. In the depths of the palace, there is the person who helped carry you from the labyrinth doors, tar-covered and empty as you were. They laugh with the knight, the knight who has seen too much, who has known no true rest in six years.
Servants move through the corridors like the palace’s blood. They keep it alive. They scrub floors until their backs ache and their knees are sore. They all have a purpose, a place. Even those that merely dust the top of cabinets and sconces, forever out of sight, fulfil their duty.
And then there is the witch. The witch! It’s all so easy around her, isn’t it? It’s so quiet. It is as though only the two of you exist and this is the only world you have ever inhabited. Look at the power that courses through her. Look how she smiles as she speaks to a baron she cannot stand, enchanting a crystal for them. She is good, too good. She is all you are not. She takes pity on you. She thinks of you as you think of the three-legged strays you take in.
All this to keep the country alive. Courtiers laughing in the early summer sunlight. Gardeners sweating as they hoist decorative rocks around and tug at unruly roots. Scholars hard at study. Politicians arguing amongst themselves. A merchant handing over a bribe to one of the queen’s advisors.
All this, and what do you do? You stand outside the library, knowing nothing of what unfolds within. No, you do not even stand. You lean, not having the dignity to hold your posture, and Finley opened the door, letting Verity wheel theirself out first.
Finley could not have been in higher spirits. It was difficult to fear for the future of Thisia and Sine when there was so much change blossoming around her, when Alexandria was ensuring her position as princess meant something.
“Rydal?” Finley said as Alexandria and Verity headed down the corridor, still deep in conversation. “Are you alright?”
Rydal blinked their eyes clear and pushed off the wall.
“Sure,” they said, joining her at her side.
“I’m sorry. It must be so boring standing guard outside all day. I don’t know how you and Amarata do it.”
Rydal shrugged.
The three of them accompanied Verity to the palace gates. Alexandria shook their hand for the fourth or fifth time, saw them off, and returned to her chambers with a barely suppressed smile. Rydal took their place outside and Finley assured herself that she’d talk to Alexandria about letting them in to sit for an hour or two that afternoon, providing Alexandria had no more meetings.
They’d been less talkative than usual, those past days. Finley went to the temple with them most evenings but even prayer could not rid Rydal of the sheen of exhaustion that covered them. Luna assured Finley it was to be expected; Rydal had gone through something unimaginable in the labyrinth and wouldn’t soon recover from it.
Within the chamber, Alexandria stood staring at the wall that had once held the bulk of her paintings. Only three remained: two landscapes she was particularly fond of, and the small portrait of her mother, made into a focal point by the empty space around it.
“Well. That’s the last of my meetings tended to, unless I decide to part with my furniture as well,” Alexandria murmured to herself. “This wall is terribly depressing now, don’t you think? Perhaps I ought to get rid of the last of these paintings so they do not stick out so very badly.”
Finley stood by Alexandria’s side, taking in the portrait of her mother. Finley realised she did not know the woman’s name. She could not have been older than twenty in the painting and had not lived much longer than that.
“You’d get rid of this?” Finley asked, gesturing to Alexandria’s mother.
“I don’t know why I’ve kept it all this time.”
Finley didn’t dare suggest a reason why, knowing it would only sour her mood.
“You could see if one of your aunts wants it,” Finley said.
“I could,” Alexandria said. “Perhaps I should write to them, while I am feeling so unprecedentedly generous.”
Alexandria did not move towards her writing desk. The relief of having no more meetings, no more collections, washed over Finley, and she suspected it bolstered Alexandria in the same way.
“Alexandria,” Finley said, drawing Alexandria’s gaze to her. “Why have you been doing all of this? I mean, I think I get what you’re doing, you’re trying to help all of Thisia and returned Sine what they’re owed, but—why? Why now, why so suddenly?”
Alexandria huffed a laugh.
“It does not feel so very sudden. I have considered it countless times in my life but indulged myself in the thought of doing good alone. But after visiting Sine, after seeing their gardens especially, I felt compelled to act. King Lucian offers his people all the food they can gather from those gardens; the least I can do is return the art I took for granted as my own to the galleries where all of Thisia can enjoy it,” Alexandria said, shrugging. “I can sell the things I never use, I seldom look at, in order to better distribute that money. Most importantly, I can return to Sine all we have stolen from them. You know, Finley, I rather think you to blame for this all. You were the one who told me that I could do without all this luxury, all this excess, and you are the only person who has successfully convinced me I am not such a hypocrite after all. I believe you are the root cause of this all.”
Alexandria turned to her. She placed a hand on Finley’s face and Finley did not flinch. She did not step back.
“Alex,” she murmured. “I really—”
She could not finish her sentence. She screwed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and convinced herself that this was wrong. It would never work out, and she should never have indulged in her own weakness to begin with. It could never work out, not without her admitting the truth of what she had seen.
“Finley,” Alexandria whispered, breath on her lips. “I shall not do anything you do not wish me to, but surely I am not alone in my desires. Will you not allow yourself this? I have proven to myself there is so much I can do without, so much I once considered indispensable, impossible to part with, and in doing so, I see clearly the things I do want. The companionship I need.”
Finley pressed her forehead to Alexandria’s, trembling.
“We aren’t in Sine,” she murmured.
“Indeed we aren’t, and I am all the more sorry for it. But have I not proven that we can bring parts of the kingdom to our own? That we can improve Thisia with all we have seen in Waterdeep?”
Alexandria cupped her face, hands warm. It would be so easy to give in, to break her promises to herself; it would so easy to disregard the future, to forget about Sine, Princess Rada, the labyrinth below, the Beast who called herself Sparrow and loved birds.
Finley wrapped her fingers around Alexandria’s wrists and you stood outside, again, again! Why are you here? Why do you centre this on yourself, Rydal? Why do you steal from Finley, poor Finley? Is it because of her dreams? Is it because of the bone mask she wears, is it because of that wretched bird she has seen? You never met with that bird, did you? It did not care for you, even though you called that other place home. Even though your soul is anchored there still.
Are you jealous? Do not be, beloved Rydal. Finley does not understand what she sees or where she has been. She thinks it a desert. She thinks herself on land. She has seen the sand slipping away, she has seen the labyrinth open below, and she will not go without you. She will not abandon you, Rydal, foolish and kind as she is. She will take you into the darkness, into the winding path with its high stone walls, and she will give you another chance.
She will take you to the Sunless. Finley will not let her sink her claws deep again, oh no. Not matter how you deserve it, long for it, and Finley opened her eyes, meeting Alexandria’s gaze.
Tiny specks of gold coloured her brown eyes.
“Alex,” Finley said, taking a deep breath. She brushed her lips against Alexandria’s but did not kiss her. “Before this happens, I have to—I have to tell you something. I promised myself I would. I promised myself I could keep my secret, so long as I never kissed you again. But if this happens, I have to tell you. I have to tell you something terrible.”
Alexandria’s thumbs brushed across her cheeks, drawing little crescents under her eyes.
“Will you let me kiss you before you bestow this dreadful news upon me? Once, only once, is all I ask. Then I shall listen to whatever you say.”
Finley nodded, arms already tight around Alexandria’s shoulders. She kissed her, praying it might never end so she wouldn’t have to speak the truth of the Beast; kissing her deeper and praying it might never end for its own sake.