Page 16 of Winter's Fate

Of course she hadn’t forgotten. Laena’s political prowess had been second to none, once upon a time.

She wasn’t certain she believed Katrina’s protests—the timing of the poison in the garden was far too convenient. But where her sister would have found such a monster to attack her, Laena could not have said.

And unless Kat wanted her dead, Laena didn’t want to believe she would have sent such a beast.

Emissary to Aglye. With Callum Farrow as her escort—and no doubt a constant presence even once they arrived in the capitol—it would be a dangerous task indeed. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that the power she’d used against the shadow monster frightened her. It was the kind of incident that had convinced her of the need to abdicate in the first place.

Despite her struggle to learn more about the magic by using it in small increments, she was not convinced she could fully control it.

But if she didn’t go, Katrina would ignore the blight. She would not investigate it. And Etra could fall into famine—or far worse, if more of those monsters infested the land.

“Fine,” Laena said. “I agree.”

Kat popped to her feet, skirts bouncing. “Excellent. I’ll go inform the council.”

“The council is sitting?”

Kat lifted an eyebrow. “Well, yes. You barged in on us rather unexpectedly. We were attempting to appoint a new emissary. You caused quite a stir.” She brushed her hands over her skirt, giving her head a rueful shake. “But then, that is what you prefer, is it not? All eyes on you?”

Laena opened her mouth, then closed it again. Was that truly what Kat thought of her? That she’d abdicated her throne in a bid forattention? There had been some, but surely someone with that level of vanity would have wanted to maintain her position, to push for a change in the laws—as the council had begged her to do at the time—and become queen instead of abdicating in favor of her sister’s dearest wish.

Otherwise Kat would never have exposed her relationship with Ben after finding them together. And Laena would never have been forced to choose. It all happened five years ago, and Laena could hardly fault a fourteen-year-old for longing to be queen. But her sister had waved goodbye with glee in her eyes, eager to take the throne.

Perhaps if she hadn’t reacted with such vicious excitement, Laena would have agreed to the council’s demands. Perhaps she would have searched for a confidant, someone to help with the problem of the magic.

Or perhaps there would have been no other course, in any case.

Declan stepped forward to lay a hand on Kat’s arm, the first sign of interference he’d shown. Laena could admit, grudgingly, that the regent took his responsibilities seriously. He was preparing Kat to be a great leader.

Kat nodded, but she didn’t apologize. As they made their way to the door, Laena heard Declan whisper, “Well done, Your Highness.”

As dusk slid into evening,no one came.

Laena had stood by the window for a time, watching as a parade of lords and ladies meandered the grounds. First the before-supper strolls, then the after-supper ones. A busy place, the palace gardens. Always open to whoever wished to walk there. She took care to hide herself behind the floor-length curtains as best she could, though no one so much as glanced toward the window. Busy with their own affairs, as usual. As she looked down at the gardens, she found herself unable to decide whether or not she missed the palace life.

It had been busy, sometimes to the point of madness, but she’d reveled in the bustle of it all. A stroll with a friend might yield a scheme to build a university in the south; a garden party might give her the opportunity to raise funds for such an endeavor. Every ball, every event, was a chance to hear from the country lords how Etra fared in the south, the west, the central plains. And what might be needed.

As much as she took pride in the life she’d built at Sunflower Cottage, she did miss palace life, and her role in it. She missed it very much.

The lamps had been lit in the full dark of evening, and now the procession had slowed, leaving only a scattering of small groups here and there. Laena’s stomach growled pitifully, and she allowed herself to sink onto the settee. No one had even come to light the lanterns. How long would she remain here, waiting like a fool? The council must have finished their meeting hours ago. Perhaps they’d elected not to make her emissary after all. Perhaps they’d learned of her magic and meant to send someone to arrest her.

After they’d hadtheirdinners, no doubt. No reason to ruin a good meal with that sort of unpleasantness.

Or perhaps—and this seemed the most likely option—they’d merely forgotten she existed.

Brin, at least, had taken advantage of the quiet, abandoning her perch in Laena’s hair to explore each corner of the room. Laena wished her well in finding a meal; the room was spotless, and no doubt scoured of any and all delectable insects.

Laena leaned back on the seat, paying no mind to her posture. What did it matter? Good posture or poor, she would never have her sister’s respect.

The curtains stirred, a shadow flinching out of the corner of her eye. Before she could figure out what she’d seen, a pair of hands closed around her neck from behind and squeezed. Her throat worked uselessly, the breath caught in her lungs, as she clawed at the hands, but they were strong. Immovable.

Laena called for the power, but her core still felt hollow. A chill trembled there, like the barest beginning of a frost. After the fight with the monster, she didn’t know if it would ever fully return.

Yet even without magic, she was no delicate palace mouse. She remembered her self-defense lessons—and farm life had made her strong. Heaving her legs up over her head, she kicked her attacker in the face and dislodged their hands from her neck as the settee tipped backward. Her head slammed into the floor, sending stars screaming across her vision, and Laena struggled to maintain consciousness.

She’d hoped the couch would pin the attacker—an assassin, it had to be—but the figure moved with lightning quickness, like a shadow flickering in the light. Laena scrambled to her feet and dashed for the door. The attacker caught hold of her wrist, yanking her backward—perhaps they meant to toss her from the window, or stick a knife in her gut—but Laena lunged for the vase in the corner and grabbed it by the lip, then hurled it over her shoulder.

The vase struck flesh—she hoped it was the attacker’s evilhead—and the fingers loosened, allowing Laena to dart the rest of the way to the door, where Brin landed on her shoulder with a startled chirp as she escaped into the hall.

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