Page 63 of The King's Queen

“I think you should go.” Torin gently lays a hand on the captain’s shoulder, kind yet commanding. His body stiffens, but he nods silently, noting that no resentment taints the words. He spares her one more look, a silent apology, before he limps from the room. His uneven footsteps echo through the hallway.

Vera sips from the glass quietly. The only sound that fills the room are her small sips and the soft patter of rain.

“It’s the cold rainy season now,” Torin notes, and Tanja nods. I only continue to watch Vera take small sip after sip. Her hands stop shaking, and she raises her chin.

“Another face to haunt me I suppose,” she murmurs.

The pureblood speaks low and sweet, but the voice is distant as if not her own. She gazes in my direction, but her stare seems to go through me and out the door from which the captain just left. The darkness that was in her voice, that pure malice, is gone now. However, the chill that it brought remains in the room still.

Tanja approaches her friend, gentle hands guiding the blankets up to Vera’s chin and taking the cup from her.

“Rest, Vera. You’re still in shock.”

Vera doesn’t answer verbally, just nods and lets her eyelids flutter shut. Torin claps my shoulder as he exits, and I take that as my sign to leave as well.

Before I slip back into shadows, I step forward towards her. My light. Her freckles form constellations across the bridge of her nose and high cheekbone and remind me of the beauty of the lights she created. The beauty she creates. Cautiously I lower my lips to her forehead then step away to let the miracle rest.

The maid, Tanja, watches me curiously as I step away. Her aura matches Vera’s in ways I can’t explain. There’s the same lingering sense of power and ferocity, but also a gentle and playful kindness that masks a heavy sense of dread.

“Why is your face pinched like that?” she tuts, her hands on her hips. I laugh. It is easy to imagine her and Vera running through the palace and causing all sorts of mischief.

“Because,” I whisper, “I think she’s a bit too much like me.”

As I leave, I secretly slip the note that Tanja mentioned off of Vera’s desk and open it once alone.

Rowan,

Gold is hard to keep around Adil, sometimes it falls into the wrong pockets. It is even harder to keep surrounded by nobles and the high born. But you know that already, don’t you? Wish your pureblood the happiest of engagements for me. I hope to see you at the wedding.

By the way, be sure to remind Verosa to lock her windows.

Sincerely,

Mavis

My lips pull back in a snarl as I crumple the parchment in my fist. The night sky is inviting, the darkness willing to cloak my sins. To allow me my hunt. Out there, somewhere in the dark under those stars, is Mavis, still sprinting to stay ahead of me.

I lean out the window and survey the palace grounds one last time before I leap. Verosa should rest tonight, but my work has just begun.

Chapter25

Verosa

Nearly a month has passed since my return from Ialenia Falls now, and I am a month closer to my wedding as well. Florists visit the palace every month in preparation, as well as chefs from around the kingdom, all vying for the honor of serving the throne at my wedding.

In the corner of the room, Tanja tries and fails to suppress her giggles as the seamstress tailors my wedding dress. The woman glares at her all the while, no doubt imagining using my friend as a pincushion.

“Is there anything less frilly? Maybe we could take away a bit of the sleeve and neckline?” I strangle out the best I can. The collar of the dress stretches all the way to my chin, stiff and fanned. Looking in the mirror, I resemble more of a peacock than a bride. The sleeves are just as horrendous. They puff out larger than my torso and cover half of my arms, creating a heinous contrast with the form-fitted gown they’re attached to.

The seamstress sighs heavily and adds another pin around my waistline. “This was what the king ordered. It is the latest fashion in Tesslari.”

“Of course, it is.”

Tanja can’t take it anymore and bursts out laughing. Her beautiful face pinches together, and her eyes squeeze shut as she mocks my misery. The seamstress angrily jabs another pin a bit too close to my waistline now. If Tanja doesn’t stop, I fear I may be too bloodied to go on with the wedding. Mentally, I beg her to keep laughing.

“If holding your tongue is so hard, young lady, then I suggest you wait outside while I finish with the princess.”

Tanja solemnly closes her mouth, and her face quickly becomes red from withholding her giggles. I have to look away before I also begin to laugh and risk running myself through with one of her needles.

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