Page 44 of The Exile's Curse

"You speak Illvyan very well," Chloe said, replying in Andalyssian and hoping it was right. "But we can use your language if you prefer."

Katiya shook her head. "No. Let me practice. You will have many more opportunities in the next few weeks to speak Andalyssian than I will Illvyan."

They reached the opposite side of the room, where a young woman in the same blues and greens as Katiya's uncle stood near drawn curtains embroidered with stars and moons and strange flowers. She was trying, as far as Chloe could tell, not to look bored. Her eyes lit as they approached, and she stepped forward. "Katya, hello. Did you escape, then?"

Katiya smiled at her, the expression faintly exasperated. "Lieutenant de Montesse, this is my little sister, Irina."

"Hello, Lady Irina," Chloe said.

Irina nodded and bobbed a quick curtsy. "Lieutenant de Montesse." Her hair was more coppery blonde than pale like her sister’s. Back home, Chloe would have thought her an earth witch.

"You're from Illvya. Is it exciting there?" Irina spoke Illvyan with a similar ease to Katiya.

Something in her tone reminded Chloe of herself when she was younger. And her own little sisters. By the color of her hair, Irina must be over twenty-one but perhaps not that far over. Katiya was only twenty-three, just two years younger than her husband-to-be.

"It is, like most places, interesting sometimes, dull others, and mostly quite nice in between," she said.

Irina grimaced. "Deephilm is just dull."

Katiya laughed. "Irina! My wedding is not dull."

Her sister rolled her eyes. "Well, no, I am happy that you and Misha will be married at last, and that you get to be queen, of course. But then you will be doing terribly important things all the time, and I will be back to—" She broke off as a servant approached bearing a tray of short glasses filled with a light green liquid that Chloe assumed was some form of liqueur.

"Kafiet," the servant said, offering the tray.

Katiya and Irina both took one, so Chloe did, too. Kafiet meant something like “cold-fire,” if she was translating correctly. "Pretty," she said, raising the glass to inspect it. It was faintly warm to the touch. Not like tea, but as though the alcohol, if that was what it was, had been set somewhere to warm before being served.

"It's delicious," Katiya said. "But it has, do you say, 'a kick' to it." She raised the glass and added, "Zvodoya," then downed the contents of her glass in one gulp.

Chloe knew that one: “health.” The toasts at dinner had been plentiful, and she'd already had more wine than might have been strictly wise. She didn't really need more alcohol, but it would be rude to refuse at least one toast.

"Zvodoya," she said, then tipped the glass back and gulped.

At first all she sensed was warmth. But then her mouth filled with a sensation like ice on fire, mint burning sugar and light and heat over her tongue and down her throat. Her stomach warmed with a glow almost immediately before the sensation spread down her legs and through her arms. She blinked, startled by the intensity. A kick indeed. Something to be wary of.

She handed the glass back to the servant, the taste still singing in her mouth. "That is delicious," she said. Delicious and dangerous. "How is it made? I taste...some sort of herb?”

"Miyata," Katiya said, nodding. "It's a kind of alpine plant. Related to mint. But cold-hardy."

"And something else?" Chloe ventured. "Ginger, maybe? There's warmth with the cold."

Irina looked delighted. "Yes, and a kind of pepper we use here. Are you interested in herbs, Lieutenant? You're an earth witch?"

"Earth and water are my strongest talents," Chloe said. "And yes, I've learned quite a bit of herb-lore in my time. Are you interested in healing, Lady Irina?"

Irina exchanged a look with Katiya. "Our father wants me to get married. And I am supposed to use all my talents." Her cheeks flushed, the pink bright against her pale skin, though Chloe couldn't tell if it was passion for her subject or perhaps the effects of the kafiet. Her own cheeks were hot, too.

"Irina," Katiya said. "You have to finish your studies."

"But why should I study things I have no talent for?" Irina said, sounding exasperated. "I’m strong in earth. I like earth." She turned an inquisitive expression on Chloe. "Don't you agree, Lieutenant de Montesse? It makes sense to work to one's strengths."

"Well, in Illvya they make us learn the basics of each of the four arts," Chloe said, trying for a diplomatic explanation that wouldn’t offend Katiya's religion if she was a believer. Clearly Irina wasn’t resigned to the strictures of balance, but Irina wasn't the future queen.

"But then you—" Irina broke off as the door to the room opened inward. Her face twisted into a grimace briefly as Sejerin Silya walked through it. "Oh, smelt, that's all we need." But she smoothed her face into a polite expression as her sister frowned at her.

The seer swept a glance around the room, taking in the king still talking with the other Illvyans and Katiya's uncle, and then, to Chloe's dismay, headed toward her instead.

She bowed to Katiya when she reached the group, but it was briefer than what would be strictly polite. "Lady Katiya, your health this evening." She spoke Andalyssian. Did that mean she didn't understand Illvyan, or was she making some sort of point?

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