When Lannahi looked into their vertical pupils, she saw most of all the arrogant pride of the powerful fae.
Maal responded to her greeting with a nod, but her sister’s smile widened and Lannahi knew her hesitation had been noticed.
“‘Better to be too early than too late,’” Letiri quoted. “Good that you remember.”
There was no mockery in her sister’s voice, but the attention with which she stared at Lannahi, waiting for her reaction, left no doubt that there was another layer behind her words. Like most sayings, the one Letiri quoted referred to combat and spoke of the advantage that could be gained by appearing on the battlefield earlier than the opponent. From a military point of view, this was a reasonable conclusion, but in social terms, it had a different meaning. Coming earlier was seen as an admission of weakness—only the people unsure of themselves and their power sought advantage in their surroundings. By mentioning this now, her sister had made it clear that she knew the reason why Lannahi had come early.
But what did Letiri mean by “good”?
“Good that you fight despite your limitations”?
Or “Good that you know your place”?
Lannahi didn’t know. She wasn’t close enough to either of her siblings to understand their intentions. Letiri was ten and Maal was nineteen years older than her. To them, she was just a child.
Maal had become the Prince of Silverleaves when she was six years old. Though he regularly came to the capital, his visits were always brief, and spending time with Lannahi wasn’t among his priorities. She knew Letiri better because they’d lived under the same roof for fifteen years, but Lannahi didn’t remember them with any particular sentiment. Her sister had only ever been interested in two things: power and sex. When she hadn’t been preoccupied with her studies under the tutelage of her parents and tutors, she’d spent her time with her friends and courtesans. The only advantage of being her sister had been that Lannahi turned to her for advice on matters she hadn’t dared discuss with her parents. Then Letiri had become the Princess of Orchidgate, and like Maal, she seemed to think of Lannahi only when she visited their parents—once a month.
Their relationships had evolved a few years ago when Lannahi became old enough to take a lover. Maal, who never spared a thought for her before, had begun visiting the training ground to observe her exercises and give her advice, and Letiri had started talking to her intimately as she would to one of her friends. Lannahi had found their behavior puzzling—Maal’s attention even intimidating. It’d been possible that the company of children bored them and, on the threshold of adulthood, Lannahi was now interesting to them, but… fae weren’t selfless. For them, everything was a game. Given the status of Lannahi’s father and the ambitions of her siblings, it hadn’t been hard to guess what had been truly going on. Maal and Letiri watched her. Everyone watched her. Her parents, teachers, peers. Everyone wanted to know.
How powerful was she?
It had been obvious that her magical abilities hadn’t been developing as quickly as her siblings’, but until she’d been officially introduced to the court, she’d been treated— depending on the person—as a future ruler or as an opponent. To Maal and Letiri, Lannahi was a potential enemy—until five years ago when she’d been introduced to the court not as a princess but as a singer. In an instant, she turned from a figure to contend with to a pawn.
The change in Maal and Letiri’s demeanor was subtle, but Lannahi, who watched them as closely as they watched her, had noticed it quickly. Maal didn’t avoid her as he had when he’d thought her childish, but no longer did he seek out her company. He stopped talking to her about magic and instead praised her performances, talked about the artists on his court, and, like Letiri, more often asked her about other courtiers. Her older sister still acted friendly toward her, but into her words crept condescension.
“You impressed Ambassador Saoul. If you had sungHyacinth Ballad, he would have fallen at your feet.”
“Wear a red dress next time. If you look like a delicate flower, someone will eventually stomp on you.”
“Your performance was touching, Lannahi, but you should control your emotions. By showing them so openly, you reveal how much music means to you. You unwittingly display your greatest weakness.”
Lannahi understood that her siblings started viewing her as a potential ally, but one that they did not need to demean themselves to pursue. Rather, it was she who would one day need to court their support. What she realized belatedly was that she was being tested. Maal and Letiri did not doubt that Lannahi would need their protection someday—the question was: would their help pay off?
Her power had little value in combat, but as a singer, she could potentially make a good spy. A good pawn.
Lannahi walked over to the table and placed her hand on the back of her chair. When she touched green velvet, her fingers tingled and her first instinct was to step back, but she was aware that her siblings were watching her every move and she pushed aside her surprise. Enchanting the chair so she couldn’t move it was infantile and usually led to a food fight that ended with a mess, humiliation, and a burning desire for revenge. Lannahi doubted that her dignified brother and chic sister would enjoy such a childish game, but she had no doubt that if she accepted the challenge, it would be her who would end up in a sorry state. The fact that her siblings decided to make such a direct move meant that they wanted to know how she would react.
No more acting. Tomorrow she would be officially introduced to the members of other courts. She was twenty-five now and could participate in the Royal Game. It was time to show that she was no longer a child.
Lannahi sent Letiri a pleasant smile. “I came early because I was thirsty. You too?”
Amusement flashed in her sister’s eyes. Lying was a ploy for weaklings, and no civilized fae would jeopardize their reputation for a pathetic excuse. Letiri had no choice but to assume that Lannahi was telling the truth and would do so herself. By enchanting the chair, her siblings proved that coming to the meeting early really could give an advantage, but it also put them in an embarrassing position. Could it be they were afraid of a family meal?
“Maal and I wanted to talk,” Letiri said smoothly.
With a note of worry in her voice asked, Lannahi asked, “Have I interrupted you?”
“It wasn’t a private conversation.” Letiri gestured at the servants that filled the room. “We are simply curious about tomorrow and amusing ourselves with speculation.”
The knot in Lannahi’s stomach tightened even more. The thought of what she needed to do the next day filled her with dread, but knowing that her siblings were discussing her future didn’t appeal to her either. Could it be that they were debating which one of them will gain a new pawn?
Lannahi didn’t want to appear intimidated, so she turned to the man with slicked-back hair and looked him directly in the eye. “Are you making a bet regarding tomorrow’s tournaments?”
“We were debating which courts might invite you,” Maal said in a composed tone, “and trying to anticipate which invitations you will accept.”
“You don’t have to be shy with me, brother. If you invite me to Silverleaves, I will gladly perform at your court.”
The corners of his lips lifted slightly in appreciation of her sense of humor, but his eyes remained alert. “You can come whenever you wish, Lannahi,” he said in a silky voice. “My courtiers have long awaited to witness one of your performances.”
