“Yes, but we haven’t exactly sent our best.” I kneaded my temples. Just a moment ago, I’d longed to flee far from the palace in Pontaval, but now I only wanted to return to my bed and sink into it like a sugar cube melting in warm tea. “What if I find that Ambrosine has somehow worked around her probation? Isn’t it better if Valory goes when she’s back, to confiscate Ambrosine’s elicrin stone if needed?”
“You agreed—we all did—that Valory should wield her power over others as seldom as possible,” Mercer said, dropping his warm hands from my shoulders. “If she goes to Perispos, it will provoke unease and alarm. If you go, it will look like nothing more than an overdue family visit.”
“I suppose I could bring Perennia with me to ease the tension. Ambrosine adores her as much as I do.” I crossed my arms and turned a flat expression to the snowy mountain spines snaking off into the distance. “Perhaps a voyage will cool my people’s anger—as long as they don’t think I’m absconding.”
A dimple hollowed out in his right cheek. “You, running away from a fight? Never.”
I gave him a wry smile. “I’ll throttle you if you’ve sent me to Perispos over nothing. Give my best to the others.”
“Stay safe.”
In a whisper of wind, Mercer was gone.
The solitude was less alluring than it had seemed moments ago, and the enduring tower a great deal more ominous.
FOUR
GLISETTE
PONTAVAL, VOLARRE
THE next morning the courtyard was almost shockingly quiet. When I’d returned, Hubert reported that the riot had been “handled.” Out of fear of what that meant, I posed no further questions.
But now, as the soles of my silk slippers whispered across the stones, I wondered what might have happened to the boy who had been yanked from his perch by one of my armed defenders.
“My father enjoyed traveling to Perispos before he lost his ships in the wave,” Larabelle said, cradling a hefty tome as she and Devorian waited to see us off. “He used to bring gifts like black truffles and olives and beautiful paintings. They were such treats for my sisters and me.”
I had tasted black truffles and olives brought from Perispos, and I cared for neither, nor did I much care for the muted, dusky color palettes of the paintings my parents had received as gifts from Perispi nobles. But Larabelle was only hoping to put me in a sunnier mood about the impending journey, so I offered her a smile. “We’ll be sure to bring you some.”
Larabelle blushed and offered me the book. “I found this in the library. It’s about the Agrimas religion. Devorian said you stopped your Perispi language and culture lessons after your parents died. I thought you might want to brush up.”
“Lovely,” I said, accepting the gift and staggering a little with the weight of it. “I so enjoy reading about how elicromancers were spawned by an evil deity.”
“Clever as she is, Glisette never learned the words ‘thank you,’” Devorian said derisively. His soft waves were bound with a bit of blue fabric, and he looked so much like Father—except that Father was never derisive.
“Is that why some of them hate us?” Perennia asked. “They think we spawned from an evil being?”
“Only a few zealots still believe that,” Devorian explained. “Most are very accepting. One of my former lady callers”—he paused to glance down at Larabelle, who gave him a charitable half smile—“said that her family was more devout than most, but even they viewed Agrimas as more of a tradition than religion. Not to say they were completely without prejudice; she said imagining their disapproval of me made our tryst all the more thrilling.”
“Is that necessary to your point?” I demanded. Devorian’s magical gift of omnilingualism had made it easier for him to sample faraway places without leaving his den of debauchery. I’d always known how he busied himself in the nearby abandoned palace before Valory cursed him with a beastly form, but I didn’t want to hear the particulars.
“I’m merely saying you’ll be welcomed warmly, and everything will be fine,” Devorian said, tugging on one of Perennia’s curls. “And don’t let Glissy fool you. Perispi language and culture used to be her favorite subject. I once caught her reading a book about Agrimas that hadn’t even been translated into Nisseran.”
“I was fascinated by how gullible people can be,” I explained. “Their simplistic creed of virtues and vices sounded like a tale to make children behave.”
“We should be going,” Perennia said, squinting at the sun. “We don’t want to miss launch.”
I sighed and looked at Devorian. “Use the hand mirror locked in Father’s desk to tell Ambrosine we’re coming, but be sure to put it back. I want her eyes and ears nowhere near state business.”
“Of course,” Devorian said, understanding the need to be careful. Ambrosine could still access any mirrors she had enchanted. She had taken one with her to communicate with us, and we had destroyed all but one here. We rarely used it.
Perennia and I passed through the open courtyard gates. We would materialize to the eastern shore and board a ship to Perispos. Mortals thought materializing solved every inconvenience, but materializing great distances to unfamiliar lands was too dangerous to attempt. If we found ourselves in the middle of the ocean and somehow lost our elicrin stones in the commotion, we would be stranded.
Oliva shuffled forward to hand off our velvet-coated suitcases. We kissed Devorian and Larabelle farewell and materialized to a predetermined location, atop a green hill overlooking the eastern port city of Eriewal.
The sun burst through dramatic clouds and the distant gray sea swayed, smacking the rocky bases of the rolling hills. Salty air was sharp in my nostrils.
“Why in the world would I want to lug this monstrous thing around?” I asked, shifting the weight of the book to retain a tenuous hold on my suitcase. “It’ll sink our ship straight to the seabed.”
“You’re such a sorehead this morning!” Perennia extracted the book from my grip as though it were a living thing I had mistreated.
Someone cleared his throat behind us. We turned to find four royal guards bowing their heads. Hubert had arranged our travel accommodations via magical missives, and he must have asked for local escorts. I scowled as one relieved me of my light burden. I then started along the uneven path winding downhill to the dock market. Perennia and the guards followed.
Our ship was called the Soaring Heart, and from here I could see the majestic vessel rocking gently in the bay, its mighty masts jutting toward the clouds. As we walked through the market toward the docking slip where a ferry waited to bear us hence, subjects recognized us and stepped aside, presenting bows and curtsies. The aroma of brined fish and the whining of a fiddle plucked at my nerves.
We passed a shop selling wood paintings of me and my siblings, inferior likenesses of the official portraits displayed in the great hall back home, which the mediocre artist must have had occasion to study. If I had known back then that I would be queen someday, I would have worn something more subdued and austere than the circlet of pearls and layered lilac gown.
But I didn’t have much time to regret past wardrobe choices. Something hot and wet struck me across the jaw.