Ceridwen turns to me once they leave, glaring with the same disapproving frown Sir always cast my way—brow tight, jaw crooked, eyes set to roll at the slightest threat.
“A Rhythm prince?” she hisses, so low that I barely catch the words.
My face falls. “What?”
She shakes it off, folding her arms. “Queen Meira,” she starts again, raising her voice like nothing happened. “Your conduit was difficult to come by.”
I instinctively touch the locket. “Princess, what—”
“Your kingdom as well,” she continues, keeping a fake smile on her face. “And your people. I should think a ruler such as yourself would be well aware of their value.”
“Of course,” I agree slowly, not sure what she’s saying.
Ceridwen straightens, gazing at the hall around us like she can see through the walls, to the kingdom beyond. “Summer’s rulers have never placed such value on their citizens or others. My kingdom has been branded by this shame, but where some see a brand as a scar, others see it as a fashion accessory.”
I nod. “I am well aware of Summer’s dealings.”
“Are you?” Ceridwen steps closer to me. Gold paint rims her brown eyes, swirls along her temples in tight spirals that glitter as she moves. “That is why my brother has arranged to meet you where he is this morning, to show you how far Summer’sdealingsstretch. He will ask if you are willing to contribute to our”—she pauses, her lip coiling—“economy. Do you? Wish to contribute?”
It only takes a beat for me to understand the meaning of her words. I pull back, my mouth dropping open. “He—what? He wants me to sell some of my people to him?”
Ceridwen smiles. “I am glad to see where you stand, Queen Meira. The world is full of people who do not valuethe same things as you and I. And we do value the same things, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
“My brother can be persuasive. I only hope your resolve holds.”
“You have no idea how stubborn I can be.”
“If stubbornness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I’d rule the world.” She pivots toward the courtyard.
I stomp forward. “You were waiting to raid the caravan, weren’t you? To free those people?”
She stops, the muscles in her bare shoulders bundling sharply. If she had intended to free those slaves, she’d want to keep her actions secret—but if she’s someone who feels such repulsion for her brother’s practices, maybe she’s someone I can trust: someone who rises against opposition; someone who would sympathize with my plight and help me find the key—or the Order of the Lustrate itself—before Cordell does.
Before Theron does.
I flinch at the words I can barely stand to think.
Ceridwen twists back to face me, half of her face bathed in the archway’s shadow, half in the courtyard’s light. “She’s smart too,” she says, half a statement and half a question, and closes the space between us to jab something against my abdomen.
A dagger.
Where did she even hide a dagger in that outfit?
“Not everyone in the world has the power they deserve,” she growls. “Do not misuse yours.”
I clamp my hand over hers on the dagger, a slight pressure that grinds her knuckles against the hilt. “I have no intention of misusing my power, Princess. I only wanted to offer my support. I know what it’s like to fight for your kingdom’s freedom.”
She blinks at me, her face flashing with shock, then horror, then a cold, harsh smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She folds the dagger back into her palm, ripping out of my grip as she does. “We’ll see, Queen Meira. As I said, enjoy Summer.”
She’s gone, dipping under the archway. The moment she slips through the door, Theron takes her place, flanked by my guards.
“What happened?” he asks.
I smile. “I think I just made a friend.”
Wherever Simon wants to meet us isn’t far. Two roads later, we stop in front of a four-story building that rivals the palace in terms of age. The sandstone exterior and brittle wood accents tell of years in Summer’s harsh climate, but decorations drape from balconies, attempts to hide the dilapidation behind braids of crimson silk and bundles of vibrant orange and red flowers. It’s these decorations that give the building more of a grand feel, an air of importance and stateliness, where the palace felt more forgotten.
