Shortly thereafter, Lannahi also stepped out into the corridor, where Blann and Souhi, who like her changed into a more modest gown than before, were waiting. The hallway was filled with the sounds of the cleaning coming from her former room.
Lannahi barely finished casting an enchantment locking her door when the one leading to Lizaar’s chamber opened. Although she’d spent the last half hour steadying her nerves and mentally preparing for their next confrontation, Lannahi tensed slightly, unsure of what to expect. The sight of Ashared caught her off guard for a second, but then she remembered her inkling and surprise gave way to involuntary jealousy. Lizaar might be a slave, but she had what Lannahi secretly dreamed of—the love and trust of a man ready to stand by her no matter the circumstances…
Lannahi pushed away the intrusive thought, enclosing her heart with an armor of bitter cynicism. The last time she’d let herself believe in her dream, she’d been deceived and cursed. Had it really taught her nothing? She should be glad she was still alive.
And focus on living even longer.
Ashared hesitated when he saw her, but then closed Lizaar’s door and moved toward her with determination.
When he stopped before her, bowing appropriately, she asked in a light tone, “Lizaar isn’t ready yet?”
“She’s finishing preparing. She will join us soon.”
Lannahi was relieved that Lizaar’s emotions hadn’t managed to completely cloud her reason and didn’t attach much importance to the fact that the woman intended to insult her by being late, but Ashared must have been worried about the consequences of the deposed queen’s decision and smoothly changed the subject as if there was nothing out of the ordinary about Lizaar’s behavior.
“Your guards, whom Kalahadd is showing around, have been given a map of the palace, but until they return, will you let me serve as your guide?”
Lannahi smiled politely. “I appreciate the initiative, captain.” She was tempted to let Ashared know with a meaningful pause that she’d seen through him, but she suppressed the impulse. She added, “Lead the way, please.”
His gaze lingered on her a while longer as if he wasn’t sure if he’d missed anything but eventually gestured in the direction of the stairs. “This way, Your Highness.”
The chancellor and the army commander apparently decided to treat Lannahi with more caution than Lizaar because when her retinue reached the door of the dining hall, both were already present. However, they waited outside the dining room doors as if to emphasize that they’d arrived early out of courtesy rather than cowardice.
“Your Highness,” the woman said when Lannahi stopped a few steps away. Like the man standing next to her, the skin around her dark eyes was marked by a mesh of wrinkles, and the proportion of gold in her outfit was equal to the proportion of white covering her hair. Like Gannar, she wasn’t wearing earrings despite signs of wearing them normally. “I am Varrdan, Chancellor of Goldfrost, and this is Baddur, its General. We are pleased that you decided to meet with us so quickly.”
“The sooner we talk, the sooner we can move on to action,” Lannahi said, gesturing at the dining room. “Let’s not waste time on formalities. I have a lot of questions.”
Lannahi felt strange being the one whom everyone, even the fae near the age of her parents, gave precedence to, but when Varrdan and Baddur made way for her, she passed them with confidence.
The chairs surrounding the whitewood table, like the throne earlier, were taller and wider and weighed more than she was accustomed to. Sitting gracefully required a few discreet maneuvers with her hips, and Lannahi belatedly realized that there were no servants nearby to pull up her chair to the table. Fortunately, Souhi kept her wits about her and muttered the enchantments, first for Lannahi, then for herself and Blann, and after a moment all three were sitting with their feet dangling above the ground, watching impassively as the landshapers pulled in their chairs as if they weighed nothing.
Apparently, here physical strength was valued more than aesthetics.
The first few minutes went well. Lannahi inquired about the construction work in the city, past, future, and present, and although Baddur looked at her with condescension, Varrdan answered her matter-of-factly and the conversation proceeded in a relatively peaceful atmosphere. Then the servants brought in the drinks. Blann tasted the local nectar first and whispered that it was as bitter as she’d heard. Varrdan paused, glancing at the green-tongued, then at Lannahi, but seeing that the queen didn’t react to the brazen breach of etiquette, she took up the previous topic. However, when a plate of soup was placed in front of Lannahi and she moved it toward Blann, the veneer of peace began to evaporate.
“Your Highness, are you worried that one of us will poison you?” Baddur asked.
The servants froze.
“What would you think of me, general, if I didn’t worry about it?” Lannahi asked, watching out of the corner of her eye as Blann dip a spoon into the soup and began to stir.
Baddur watched her closely. “I would think,” he said slowly, “that you are brave like your father and eloquent like your mother but much younger than they were when they first built their kingdom.”
Blann lifted the spoon.
“And what do you think of me now?” Lannahi asked.
Baddur glanced at Blann but soon returned his gaze to her. “I think music wasn’t the only thing you learned in Goldenshadows.”
Lannahi smiled, but when Blann dipped the spoon into the soup and stirred again, her smile began to dim. “You don’t like it, Blann?” she asked her friend.
Her tone was light, but her heartbeat quickened. She didn’t believe that the landshapers would try to poison her on the very first day, but the flowerspeaker’s face clearly suggested that something was wrong.
“Volcanic Salt,” Blann said after tasting the second spoonful. “An amount that would turn your stomach inside out. You wouldn’t leave the waterchamber for days.”
Lannahi swept her eyes over the faces of the landshapers who suddenly turned pale. “Was this your idea?” she asked, her tone almost friendly.
When her gaze rested on Varrdan, the chancellor denied it, but Baddur grumbled, “If you think it’s me, you underestimate me as much as I underestimated you.”
