Page 118 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

I stared at her, horrified. “And would you blame them for that? A message from the capital telling them their queen lies near death?” I stepped back from her, detaching myself from her embrace. “You sentmeinto a panic. I thought…” I struggled to collect myself. “Why didn’t you just send for me as you normally would? Of course I would have come to you.”

For an instant, Yvaine looked crestfallen. Then she lifted her chin. “The last time we saw each other, I attacked you. I was badly hurt. I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t sure that youwouldcome unless I resorted to drastic measures. I thought you might be afraid of me after what happened.”

“Honestly, I’m more afraid of you now,” Ryder said drily. “That you would think it reasonable to lie about your own death speaks to its own kind of unsoundness.”

Yvaine shot him a look, started to respond, then stopped. She let her thin shoulders fall. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry. I truly am. It’s just…” She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers trembling. “Things are so strange now. Even stranger after I healed from my burns, as if parts of me were seared away and never quite came back. Some moments I feel wholly myself. Other moments are entirely lost to me, or else some mad idea comes into my head that I think is brilliant but is in fact reckless or nonsensical. Thirsk has been hovering over my shoulder like a fussy mother. He wouldn’t have let me send such a message to you, of course. I managed it while he was sleeping. I exhaust him. I exhaust myself.”

The bleak tone of her voice frightened me. I reached for her. “Never mind how you did it.Whydid you send for us? Do you need help? Do you have news?”

She took my hand. “I need company,” she said simply. “People I like, people I trust. People who aren’t fretting old men or hard old women. Will you both sit with me and eat?”

***

The day passed strangely, Yvaine flitting about the house like a nervous hostess. She stuffed us with food and drink, all of it fine and delicious, cooked by her own hands using ingredients from the royal kitchens. Over all the years of her life, she’d become a splendid chef.She fed us puff pastries stuffed with goat cheese, bright green sprigs of parsley, and thinly sliced ham; roasted chicken garnished with dates and orange zest and served on a bed of crisp shaved greens, the meat so tender it seemed to melt in my mouth; a chocolate cake drizzled with raspberry syrup and dusted with icing sugar. Divine, all of it.

She bade me play the piano, which I did, haltingly and then with relief, for while my hands danced over the keys and my feet worked the pedals, I didn’t have to look at her, didn’t have to hear her shrill voice going on and on about meaningless palace gossip, the new gown her stylist was working on for the annual winter solstice gala, the renovations being done on the palace’s north wing. It was all idle chatter, and whenever Ryder or I tried to bring up the abductions, the draft in the Senate, what we’d seen in Mhorghast, the impending invasion, she silenced us with a look, a word, a tap of her fork against her crystal goblet of sparkling lemonade. They were only little pings of magic butting against us, but she was High Queen Yvaine Ballantere of Edyn, and even little pings of her magic were enough to reshape our words and make us forget what we meant to say.

In the late afternoon, Ryder went upstairs to rest, claiming aches from his healing wounds. Our gazes locked for an instant before he left me. I had no doubt his body was indeed demanding a rest, but I couldn’t imagine he would actually relent to one.

His absence did the trick; a few minutes after he went up, Yvaine paused her chatter to listen for him. Everything was quiet save for the breeze outside and the wind chimes Gemma had helped Philippa hang in the gardens when she was small.

Satisfied, Yvaine sank back onto the couch and closed her eyes. “Finally, some quiet.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You’re the one who’s been talking without pause ever since we arrived.”

After a moment, she opened her eyes to look at me. “I’m sorry Ikept silencing you. All anyone ever talks to me about is how horrible everything is—the people taken, the Middlemist deteriorating, how everyone is afraid. And they’re not wrong to do so. But I’m tired, Farrin.” She drew in a shaky breath and gave me a thin smile. It was as if some dam within herself had been opened. She curled into the sofa cushions, drew her knees up to her chest. No pretense, no false bright smiles for the benefit of Ryder or her advisers. No, this was simply Yvaine, weary and too thin, drowning in her dress.

“And I wanted a day with my friend is all,” she said quietly. “A day—a single day—of only good things and nothing bad. Before everything changes. Because it will, don’t you agree? I taste it with every breath I take. Every time I move through the castle, I feel like my next step will send me plummeting over the edge of a cliff into a raging sea. I hear it rumbling always, in the air and even in the ground. Even now, with the sinkhole closed and my palace intact. All those storms in my skies, churning and growing, more and more every day.”

There were so many things to address in what she’d said that I hardly knew where to begin. The exhaustion in her voice terrified me, as did the sight of her curled up on the couch. She looked alarmingly vulnerable, not a queen chosen to rule the world but instead a young woman who could easily be snapped in two by any number of monsters, man and beast alike.

“I do feel that,” I answered truthfully. “And I think we’d be better prepared for that change, when it comes, if you’d let me talk to you about some things that have happened.”

She closed her eyes, her mouth thinning. “Please don’t. I don’t want to use my power to quiet you again, but I will if you force my hand. I just want to talk about ordinary things, earthly things. Nothing Olden, nothing violent.”

“But you yourself are Olden,” I pointed out.

As am I, I wanted to say. A confession hovered on the tip of mytongue. I wondered if Yvaine remembered anything of that awful day in the dining room when she’d attacked me.What do you know about demigods?I’d shouted at her, the question pulled out of me by the seeking tongues of her chaotic magic.

But there was nothing in her eyes now except for a fond softness. She rested her cheek on her knees and smiled at me. “When I’m with you, though, I’m not Olden or mighty, not a queen chosen by gods. I’m just…whatever I was before they plucked me from whatever field or town or valley I lived in. I’m just a person when I’m with you. Just a friend talking to a friend.”

I let out a frustrated breath, determined not to be charmed by the simple candor of her words. “And what about after today? When you go back to the palace to resume your duties, what will you do then? Will you let me come with you? Will you listen when I tell you what needs to be said?”

“Of course.”

“People aredying, Yvaine,” I continued sharply. “I’ve been there. I’ve seen it. They’re being preyed on by a monster and his followers, forced to entertain and fight and seduce, doing things they would never do if they were in their right minds, and…”

I trailed off, shaking my head. The nerves that had been bubbling inside me for the entire strange day spilled over at last. I looked out at the garden, tears blurring my vision and turning everything into a shimmering wash of gold and green.

“Gareth’s there somewhere,” I whispered. “And countless others who are dear to their own families and friends. And you call me here,trickme here, to lead Ryder and me through some strange song and dance, and then go on and on about how nice it feels to spend time with me, as if there’s nothing else happening in the world, as if it’s only you and me, friends idling away an afternoon.”

I looked back at her, gratified to see her expression of quiet shame.I fought the instinct to comfort her or apologize. She was my friend, but in that moment she deserved neither thing.

Finally, something in her seemed to give way. She nodded, her mouth thin, and sat up straighter, legs crossed neatly on the cushion.

“You’re right, of course,” she said quietly. She gave me a small smile. “You’re always right, and I seldom am these days, it seems.” Her gaze turned distant. “It’s selfish of me, isn’t it, to want escape and distraction, when so many are hurting?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” I said, but she shook her head.

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