“Oh, so now you beg my permission, do you?” he grumbled. “After all these years of irreverence, it is suddenly now that you choose to show me your obeisance?”
Leisa didn’t trust herself with a reply. She couldn’t tell whether he was actually upset with her or trying his best to return to the familiarity that had once characterized their relationship.
And she did not dare guess wrong—not while he was still reeling from her news. He was afraid, and fear made even kings irrational. Fear could cause anyone to lash out in deliberately brutal ways, and a king was capable of more brutality than most.
But it hurt, this doubt that made her wait for her king’s permission to eat and sleep. She’d done what he asked, even though it terrified her. Traveled to a foreign kingdom hostile to her magic while pretending to be his daughter. Spied on a paranoid king and his pet assassin to determine whether an alliance between their two kingdoms was possible.
She’d risked her life over and over again, and still Soren was not satisfied.
Whatever he wanted from her, perhaps she’d never had it to give, so she bent her head and waited for his dismissal. Wondering whether he would ever again acknowledge what she’d once been to him. Or what he’d been to her.
“For now, you will stay in Evaraine’s suite,” he ordered, suddenly brisk and businesslike. “Make your way to her rooms without being seen, then return to yourself, and she will meet you there. Do not leave until I send instructions.”
“What do you mean, don’t leave? I had planned to…” She shut her mouth with a snap. She’d almost revealed her intention to return to the forest, and to Kyrion. Obviously, she was much too exhausted to guard Evaraine at the moment if she could not even guard her own tongue.
Soren raised an eyebrow that suggested he was nearing the end of his patience. “Evaraine has been in seclusion ever since you departed, to maintain the fiction that she was in Garimore. It will take time to prepare for her to return to normal palace life. Until that time, you will remain with her.”
Oh. Leisa supposed that made sense. As long as it didn’t take more than a day or two. She had places to be, and couldn’t imagine remaining here now that it no longer felt like her home.
King Soren had proven to be a far lesser man than she’d hoped, and the sooner she could escape her memories, the better.
Wearing her hood low over her face, Leisa made her way through the mostly quiet halls of the palace. The hall in front of Evaraine’s door was only dimly lit, and her rooms completely dark, so after Leisa determined they were indeed empty, she settled into a corner of the princess’s sitting room to wait.
She was nearly asleep—and therefore even more completely startled—when a section of the wall opened to admit a slender, cloaked form bearing a single candle.
Evaraine. Who apparently was familiar with secret passageways that Leisa herself had never been informed of.
The princess was alone, and as soon as the wall closed behind her, she set the candle on a table and removed her hood.
Leisa pulled back her own hood and shivered a little as she stared at the face she’d been seeing in her own mirror for weeks now.
“You’re back,” Evaraine said, and Leisa took a tiny measure of comfort from the relief in her princess’s voice.
“I’m sorry,” she said regretfully, “but it’s not because I have good news.”
Evaraine’s lips curved slightly. “Was good news ever possible, with an errand such as yours? I’m merely grateful you’ve returned unharmed.”
She held out a hand. “Here.”
Leisa rose and crossed the shadowed space between them to accept Evaraine’s offering—a mirror.
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your own face back.”
Her own face. Leisa had never stopped wondering what that would feel like. But she had no memory of her own true face. Due to an accident when she first learned of her ability with mirrors, she actually wore the appearance of her dead sister.
Was it possible that her sister still watched her somehow? That she resented Leisa for stealing the life that should have been hers? And how would Leisa ever know?
But she took the mirror and bent down near enough to the candle that she could catch a glimpse of her flickering reflection and… change it. That was all. It was as simple as breathing, and had been since she was very young. Once her own blue eyes, red-gold hair, and stubborn, full-lipped mouth appeared in the glass, she handed it back.
“Have you been well?” she asked the princess mechanically. As if commonplace pleasantries had much meaning under the circumstances.
“As well as one can be when pretending not to exist,” Evaraine replied wryly, and Leisa winced. “What can you tell me of Garimore?”
Leisa tried to imagine what the princess might wish to know. Evaraine had never been well enough to travel outside of Farhall, so perhaps Leisa could satisfy her with a description of the kingdom itself.
“It’s a beautiful land,” she admitted. “Green and fertile, with farms as far as you can see on both sides of the road. Hanselm is clean and prosperous, and the palace is enormous. Garimore obviously has more wealth than they know what to do with.”
“Yes,” Evaraine returned, “and I could learn any of that from the average traveling merchant. Now tell me the real truth. Tell me why you’ve returned early. Tell me why my father has not yet asked me whether I’m willing to go through with this alliance.”
Leisa gulped and wondered why she’d bothered trying to get away with polite evasion. Evaraine might be quiet and reserved, but she’d never been a fool.
What would she want to know if she were to be forced into a political marriage with Garimore’s prince?
Taking the candle, Leisa crossed the room to the fireplace. A fire was already laid in preparation for the morning, so she lit it, then set the candle on the mantelpiece.
As the fire caught, she looked around at the familiar walls and furniture—quite shabby in comparison to the opulence of her rooms in the Garimoran palace—and felt a bit of comfort in the sensation of being finally at home. These might not be her rooms, but she’d spent a great deal of time here.
Taking a seat on the rug, she turned back to Evaraine and admitted the painful truth.
“I think I ruined everything,” she said.
Evaraine spoiled the gravity of the moment by laughing. “I hardly think that’s possible,” she said. “A great deal was ruined even before my father insisted on sending you with little preparation and less support.”
Leisa snorted. “You knew, then? About Melger’s restrictions on personal servants?”
The princess shook her head. “If you’re asking whether he told me more than he told you, then no. My father tells me very little.”
“Then perhaps I’d best share with you everything I shared with him,” Leisa said, wondering just how ignorant King Soren intended to keep his only child. “Melger of Garimore is paranoid and controlling, and he’s determined to get his hands on Farhall. Even if it means courting the favor of a person he views as an ignorant backwoods nobody who’s unworthy of his son.”
“Oh, is that what I am?” Evaraine enquired, a slight lift to her brows.