“I do not sound like that.”
“Sometimes you do,” he said, as if confiding a secret.
I swatted at him, and he caught my hand, laughing.
“Your Highness, Conrí, I beg Your pardon,” Ibolya said, carrying a chest into the room, quite heavy by the look of it. Con immediately stepped to relieve her of it, raising his brows as he tested the considerable weight, then eyed Ibolya’s slight frame. She smiled sunnily at him. “Your Highness, there’s something here that might work for a crown. I’ll return in a moment.”
“A crown?” Con frowned.
“Anure kept Mine,” I said as Con set the chest on the vanity under the mirror. The dress swirled and flamed around me as I walked to it, the heels making me feel tall and powerful. Most satisfying.
“I’m sorry, Lia.” Con looked stricken. “I didn’t think about your crown.”
“Why would you?” I opened the chest, which was cleverly wrought with springs, the many trays within spiraling open to display their glittering treasures.
“I could’ve gotten it for you.”
“The way I heard it, you were occupied with rescuing Sondra, retrieving My corpse, and smuggling the lot of us out of Yekpehr.”
“Agatha, too.” He raised his brows when I looked up sharply. “Maybe you don’t remember that bit.”
I frowned, thinking. Oh yes, Agatha had been on the Last Resort. “Agatha,” I said, musing over that oddity.
“She’d been a prisoner—or a servant—or both, at Yekpehr before. She volunteered to guide me, use her contacts there to locate you. I couldn’t have found you without her help.”
The memory pieces fell together into a full picture. “One of her contacts was Rhéiane.”
Con nodded, watching me carefully.
“You’re sure it’s your Rhéiane?”
“It’s not a common name, but no—how can I be sure?”
“How indeed,” I murmured, turning my gaze to the glittering jewels but not seeing them as I processed the implications. “We never saw anyone else after that initial audience. Sondra and I were always locked in our prison chamber or I was—” My heart clenched. Ah. Apparently I wasn’t so recovered as to be able to speak those words.
Con’s fingers trailed down the exposed skin of my back. “I know,” he said, more hoarse than usual. “Sondra told me.”
I nodded. Swallowed. Focused on the jewels, though they made a glittering blur.
“I can’t ignore the possibility that it’s her,” Con continued matter-of-factly, though his voice was rough. “You were the one to speculate that the Imperial Toad is holding royals hostage to maintain control of their lands. Even before Cradysica, you thought Anure might have my sister.”
More than speculated, I’d known it must be the case. The information from my spies had been too consistent for false rumor, and my intuition too certain. “You’ll be wanting to go back for her,” I said, marveling at how well I modulated my tone to sound as if we discussed plans to walk in the garden.
“I—” He cleared his throat and traced my spine with one finger. “I think I have to.”
I nodded. Of course he had to.
“You don’t have to think about it, though,” he said, still tracing my spine, up and down. “I can only imagine how difficult that is for you.” He was right. The very thought of Con going to Yekpehr brought back the stink of the burning walls, the sulfur sticking in my throat, the fetid taste of despair and metallic shiver of terror and pain. “Lia?”
“I’m fine.” I even managed to make it sound like not a lie. Blindly, through the blur of unshed tears, I picked up something pure and glittering with white light. “I plan to go to the temple tomorrow morning. When will you leave for Yekpehr?”
“Not yet. I’ll go with you to the temple.”
I glanced up at him, surprised, unbearably relieved. “You will?”
“I wouldn’t leave you to face that alone.” He hesitated. “You remember that Tertulyn is there?”
“Of course,” I replied tartly. “I’m not an imbecile.”
“No, you’re not.” His grin at my attitude faded. “You should know that we found her in the aftermath of Cradysica, on one of Anure’s ships.”
That shouldn’t sting. I’d accustomed myself to the likelihood of Tertulyn’s betrayal. And I’d clearly suffered far worse wounds in the interim, physical and emotional. Amazing that I could still feel any pain on top of the rest. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill her.”
“I wanted to,” he replied with blunt honesty. “I would have, but Calla and your other ladies begged me to spare her life. Besides, it would’ve been like putting down a rabid dog. Tertulyn is … She’s not right in the head.”
“How so?”
“Some kind of magic. Nobody knows. She can barely speak, can’t care for herself.”
“I see. I’ll handle it.” Though how? With a mental sigh, I added it to my list of problems to solve.
“Tomorrow is soon enough.” Tugging the sparkly crown from my hands, Con held it up. “This is pretty.”
It was. Formed of gold instead of silver and platinum, this crown nevertheless had a lighter look. A twelve-pointed sunburst sat at the apex, glittering with diamonds. Beneath it, a crescent curved upward, like Ejarat cradling and receiving Sawehl’s brilliant light. A star flanked either side of the crescent, all of it shining with the pure clarity of perfect diamonds. It spoke less of Calanthe than of all the world, of the land flourishing under the benevolent fire of the sun and stars.
“It is pretty,” I echoed Con with a teasing smile, “but does it go with My gown?”
He didn’t tease back, turning it in his big hands, unexpectedly grave. With an almost reverent mien, he raised it and fitted it gently onto my head, the metal cool but warming rapidly. “I’d say it goes with the woman. It’s perfect for you.”
Looking in the mirror to check the position, I found it needed no adjusting. A perfect fit, indeed, as if it had been made for me. Ibolya with her finely honed timing returned then and clasped her hands at the sight, smiling in triumph.
“Where did you find this?” I asked her.
She shrugged a little. “It must’ve arrived in a smuggled shipment at some point, Your Highness. It’s been in storage for some time, I believe.”
Ah. A treasure hidden from Anure’s looting, painstakingly transferred from hand to hand until it found refuge on Calanthe, as so many works of art—and the people who created them—had over the years. Who knew what realm it had once belonged to, whose brow it had once graced. Likely we would never know.
I took it as an omen, however, of what I needed to do.
As much as I’d tried to cling to a relatively small responsibility—the island I’d been born of and had sworn to die for—the many forgotten and orphaned lands had still cried to me in the night. I had died for Calanthe, and now I must face that I couldn’t pretend to owing a duty only to my realm. All the kingdoms suffered and slowly died under Anure’s uncaring, rapacious rule. Con and I were the only ones free to help them, so help them we would.