“That she’s sold me to Etan,” I snap.
Andraste pauses, her gaze sliding over everything. It returns, hesitantly, to me. “I thought you were enamored of him. You wrote of him when you served in Queen Maren’s court. You seemed… to bear feelings for him.”
I can’t stop myself from pacing. “That was before I came to know him. He found me today in the tents. He….” I bite the words off. “Marrying him would be… unpleasant.”
Andraste’s eyes sharpen. “Did he threaten you?”
“He practically said I would be his property.”
“Mother’s signed the contract,” she says slowly. “All it requires now is your signature. It was supposed to be announced on the final night.” Her mouth tightens. “I thought you knew.”
How? I can’t stop my gaze from lifting to meet hers in the reflection.
Mother barely speaks to me, and Andraste is too fucking busy with her little court within courts to have time for me.
The courtiers all know which way the wind is blowing.
I’m the queen’s unfavored daughter.
Without magic. Without power. Not even half as pretty as my mother and sister.
And Andraste is angling for the position of heir. She’s built a small court of courtiers around her—the Crown Princess’s Larks, they call themselves. An unofficial title, but one which I’m certain is not too far away.
I don’t know where that leaves me.
“Here.” Andraste gathers my hair into a pile on my head, twisting sections of it into place and considering it. Those blue eyes wear the weight of a thousand years, and sometimes I wonder what she’s seen at court. “Let me fix your hair. Mother will have your head if you appear looking like this.”
It’s been years since we’ve even touched.
I hear the echo of laughter in my ears as she rifles through the pins on my vanity and finds the comb.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” She begins to soothe the silken weight of my dark hair with the comb. “She won’t renege on a signed contract with Maren. If you even mention it, she’ll be furious.”
“I know.”
And Mother’s fury is to be avoided at all costs.
My stomach sinks like a lead weight.
What am I going to do?
“Tell me about Etan,” Andraste murmurs. “Why would marrying him be unpleasant?”
It feels strange to confide in someone, especially her. But Andraste might be my only hope. If Mother will listen to anyone, it’s her.
I tell her everything, finishing with, “He said he intended to visit my tent tonight.”
Andraste weaves golden chains through my hair. Little stars hang from the end of them. “If he wants to get through, then he will. He’ll bribe the guards, and someone of them will have overheard Mother gloating. They’ll know that encouraging Aska’s favor is to be allowed—”
“That’s hardly reassuring—”
Our eyes meet in the mirror again as she says. “You don’t have to be here.”
My mouth feels dry. “Where am I going to stay?”
Staying in her tent isn’t an option. The maids will gossip, and then Mother will want to know what’s going on.
Andraste leans closer, resting her chin on my shoulder as she examines the masterpiece she’s made of my hair. “I don’t know if you can avoid this fate, Vi. I’ll help you. I’ll try to speak to Mother, but you know how she gets. My influence is limited, at best.”
And you don’t want to lose your precious seat at her side.
I look away.
“But maybe you don’t have to give him everything. Etan likes your innocence, and all men like to know they’re the first—maybe they’re afraid they won’t be able to hold up to the memory of any others? But you don’t have to give it to him. Maybe you don’t have the choice in who you will marry, but the gift of your virginity? That’s yours to give as you please, Vi.”
“What?” My jaw drops open.
“You haven’t signed the contract,” she points out. “As far as Mother knows you are unaware of her plans, as she no doubt intended. The fires will burn for the next three nights while the queens meet. The wine will flow. The dancing will leave us all with blistered feet and sore heads. You’re not expected to do anything other than be seen to be enjoying yourself.”
“That’s not exactly helpful.”
“You want a choice?” Something dangerous beckons in her pretty blue eyes. “Then this is your chance to make that choice. If Etan wants your virginity then deny him that pleasure.”
“I can’t just sleep with a stranger!”
“Why not?” She gives a shrug. “That’s what I do every Lammastide. This is the one night of the year where no one knows who I am. It’s the one night of the year I can be… free.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever wondered if she feels the same way I do—trapped by the circumstance of our birth.
Could I do it?
Could I take a lover?
“And what happens afterward?”
Andraste’s lashes smother her eyes. “I will see if I can convince Mother this alliance is not in our best interest.”
Neither of us holds much hope of that. I can see it written all over her.
My mother rules Asturia with an iron fist. The whims of her daughters are never taken into consideration. We are pawns for her to move about at whim.
“There,” she whispers, stepping back. “There’s some color in your cheeks now. Get dressed. Meet us by Mother’s tent. Hopefully by then, you’ll have made a decision.”
She leaves as I stare at myself in the mirror.
Find someone.
A shiver runs through me.
I’ll need more than that if I’m to escape this trap.
Because I will never marry Etan of the Goldenhills.
Not even if I have to kill him myself.
3
THIAGO
“Why does she have to look so smug?” Thalia demands, glaring across the clearing at the Queen of Asturia.
Adaia sits upon a gilded throne before the bonfires, her expression cool and serene. A red velvet gown clings to her breasts and falls to the floor. Her pale shoulders are bare, the gown looped around her throat with a golden collar. Rings glitter on her fingers and a golden snake curls around her upper arm. It’s far more muted than anything I’ve ever seen her wear, but the mask makes up for it.
Glorious red, blue and gold feathers, somewhat akin to a plucked parrot, cascade over her forehead. Her golden hair is slicked back and falls down her spine.
“Because Adaia doesn’t know any other expression.” My gaze hasn’t shifted off my enemy since she arrived in this clearing, but there’s something about the way Thalia says it that makes me glance down at my cousin. She’s on edge. We’re all on edge. But while my cousin might look like the sweetest member of my court, she’s also the most dangerous when she wants to be. “Relax, Thalia. What is it you always say? Information is currency. Patience is its own reward. Right now, we have neither. We need a confirmed sighting of Finn, and then we can set plans into motion.”