Niren had finished her debate and hovered apart from the rest of the crowd, looking bored and out of place. She never seemed to have any interest in conversing with the other courtiers, no matter how many times Eda told her they all admired her, and she might have already garnered a number of marriage proposals if she’d paid any of the young men even an inkling of regard. Niren hadn’t told her as much, but Eda suspected she’d left her heart behind her in Evalla. Eda didn’t feel guilty about it. Far better for Niren to marry a rich courtier she liked a little, than a penniless farmer she fancied herself in love with.
“Your Imperial Majesty?” Lohnin, the Baron of Tyst, had approached without her noticing. He frowned behind his wretched beard. “You’ve not yet formally welcomed the Denlahn envoy.”
And you’ve not yet formally perished in the void,Eda barely kept from replying. The Denlahns waited awkwardly near the wide dais opposite the food tables: the two royals and the ambassador, with a pair of guards standing stiff behind them.
Eda stepped past Baron Lohnin without acknowledging him and gave the Denlahns her sharpest smile. She snapped her fingers at one of the attendants, and a wine glass was pressed into her hands. She raised it high, addressing the whole room: “To our honored guests, Prince Ileem Emohri and Princess Liahstorion Emohri of Denlahn. May the gods guide your steps and give you the grace to walk.” It was an old platitude she was attempting to resurrect, to little success.
Most of her Barons grimaced at her, but all the courtiers raised their glasses and drank to the Denlahns’ health. Niren caught her eye across the room, lips twitching—she recognized the platitude, even if no one else did.
The ambassador, Ileem, and Liahstorion approached, and Eda deposited her glass with another attendant in time for the ambassador to take her hand. He pressed it briefly and released her.
“You are all looking very well, and rather more dry than when we saw each other last,” Eda greeted them.
The ambassador gave a forced laugh, while Prince Ileem smiled. Princess Liahstorion just glared at her.
“I’ll leave you to get more acquainted, Your Highness, Your Majesty,” said the ambassador in his accented Enduenan. “I have much to discuss with your Barons.” He bowed and left them.
Eda thought that if she chopped up the ambassador and all her Barons and put them in a stew, they would have even more to talk about. How arrogant of him to assume she was to be left out of their discussions!
“You’re scowling, Your Majesty. Do you find me so repulsive?”
She snapped her eyes to Prince Ileem, whose tone was dark and tense. He seemed almost to crackle with energy, like there was something wild in him he could barely contain. He wore a pair of loose trousers and a long fitted shirt embroidered in silver, with silver buttons marching down the front of it. The whole ensemble nicely set off the cuff on his ear.
“Do you?” His voice grew even tighter.
“Of course not, Your Highness. I was only imagining all my Barons chopped up in a stew, and wondering what seasonings I might add to make them remotely palatable.”
She didn’t know what possessed her to tell him that, but he gave a short bark of surprised laughter and seemed instantly more at ease. “I take it you don’t like them very much.”
“They’re far more trouble than they’re worth.”
He smiled and offered her his arm, which she took after only a slight hesitation. They walked together toward the balcony, and courtiers parted to make way for them.
Princess Liahstorion, who hadn’t said a word throughout this exchange, followed.
Eda smoothly drew her arm out of Ileem’s as they stepped up to the balcony’s rail. The air smelled fresh and new, of damp stone washed clean of dust. She breathed it in. “I’m gathering your sister doesn’t likemevery much.” She could feel Liahstorion’s glare without turning around.
Ileem smiled again, but his eyes held danger. “Don’t flatter yourself. She doesn’t like many people.” His ear cuff flashed in the starlight. “Although you Enduenansareresponsible for our father’s death, which would give her reason to harbor personal hostility toward you.”
Wind stirred through Eda’s skirt and a chill curled up her spine. “Your father?” she said carefully.
“The late King of Denlahn. He fought in the war your Emperor brought to our shores. His wounds maimed him, and slowly poisoned his blood until he couldn’t even lift his head from his pillow. We watched him waste away our entire lives, and two springs ago—we watched him die.”
Eda’s hand went to her dagger. “You’re here to kill me.”
Ileem raised both eyebrows. “Kill you? Certainly not, Your Majesty. We’re here to make peace, so no one in either Denlahn or Enduena will ever have a childhood like ours.”
“But you hate me, surely.”
“Our father’s death was not your doing.” Ileem looked out over the balcony, down into the sprawling city. Lights appeared in the streets below, lanterns in windows to combat the dark. “That is precisely why we are here—to forge peace in this new generation, an alliance strong enough to atone, at least in part, for the shadows of our past.”
Eda glanced behind them to Liahstorion, who had listened stone-faced to her brother’s impassioned speech. “I appreciate your sentiments,” Eda told the prince, “but I don’t trust you.”
“And nor should you, not yet. All I ask is that you don’t judge me—judgeus—too quickly.”
His earnestness surprised her. “I’ll endeavor not to.”
Ileem bowed very low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
