But Elora understood she had crossed a line, even if she did appreciate the queen trying to stick up for her. It would be no use though. Elora shrank back into her chair. She should’ve known better. Grief caused the heart to ache, and sometimes having support did help, but it also caused people to lash out. To isolate. To do all manner of strange things that they might not have done otherwise. She would have to tread carefullywith him. Attune to his cues, wait for him to show a willingness to interact with her more personally. After all, Elora wasn’t the only one being forced into this predicament.
But the queen didn’t seem ready to let it go.
“Remember you are speaking to your future wife,” she continued, her black eyes glaring him down. “And you should do so with respect and dignity?—”
Leighton’s fists slammed atop the table. “I owe her no such thing! You told me the time had come for me to wed. You insisted I marry her so that we could broach peace between Eynallore and Irongate. I told you I would first rather set my father free, and so that’s what I set out to do. But he’s dead now, so it’s up to me. And as much as I wish you were wrong, I know the betrothal is what’s best for Irongate, so I will uphold my end of that vow. But I do not owe her or you anything else. This is a marriage based on political alliances, and nothing more. Understood?”
He glared between the two of them, and this time, Elora didn’t shrink away. If she did, she worried she would be setting a precedent, one she was already trying to escape.
But the queen didn’t back down either. Slowly, she rose from her seat.
“You will not speak to me that way, young prince.”
Leighton jumped to his feet as well “I will speak to whomever however I see fit!”
Elora wished she could disappear. In a way, she supposed she had. Neither of them had eyes for her now.
Leighton continued to roar. “My father is dead! You can’t expect me to go about these next few weeks with a smile on my face like everything is perfectly fine. I am grieving!”
“As am I,” Queen Signe countered, every word enunciated with cool resolve. “And you will do so with the grace that isexpected of a future king, not some petulant child. Do I make myself clear?”
Leighton’s nostrils were flaring. It looked as though he might be considering chucking his steak knife at the queen. But Queen Signe’s power rippled in the air. If Elora didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn the shadows were creeping in around them, filling the room and threatening to suffocate them all if they had to.
Neither of them were going to back down. They didn’t have it in them.
And despite her botched attempt at kindness earlier, and the promise she had made to herself to await his signal before attempting anything so forward again, Elora didn’t want to leave him stranded. She wouldn’t be the type of person to just sit by and let tensions build, anger roil.
In Eynallore, Elora had been raised to be a leader. She knew how much support it required to wear the title proudly and with justice. If she were to be Queen of Irongate someday, then she would be there for him, even if he wasn’t ready for it.
Elora also rose from her chair then, careful to move slowly so as not to fuel the fire blazing in the room already. Both of their ire snapped to her, ready to lash out at anything. She remained calm and collected for all of them.
“Perhaps Prince Leighton is right. This is all a bit soon. He’s only just returned from his mission, and as he mentioned, he has yet to rest. Might I suggest we table this conversation until tomorrow—” she said to the queen, but then turned her gentle gaze to the prince “—knowing that we cannot postpone it forever.”
The heaving of Leighton’s chest was beginning to slow.
“Wise words, Princess Elora,” said the queen. “Leighton would do well to learn a thing or two from you about decorum.”
No—the queen was doing it again. Twisting Elora’s words for her own gain. Pitting them against each other.
Without another word, Leighton shoved away from the table.
As he stormed toward the door, Queen Signe cried out, “We will reconvene this conversation tomorrow, whether you are ready for it or not.”
The doors slammed shut. Queen Signe finally took her seat again, the rage lifting from her expression. She began spearing bites of her food as if nothing had happened. Since Elora didn’t know what to do, she decided to sit and start eating as well.
“I see you’re settling into the title of wife quite well,” the queen said after a long moment.
Elora almost laughed. So far all she had managed to do was drive a bigger wedge between them, it would seem. Her socializing skills were rusty. How the queen expected her to befriend the princess was beyond her.
But she supposed, at the very least, she was staying on Queen Signe’s good side. And that more than anything was how she would survive in a place like this.
Chapter 22
The Library
ELORA
Elora could hardly sleep that night, not with the queen’s direct orders barking in her skull. If she was to befriend Kestrel, then she needed to ensure their paths crossed, and currently the only thing she knew about the girl was that she would be studying with Barnabus in the library come the first-hours. And Elora would make sure she would beat her there.
