Page 39 of Thorn Season
“Your friend?”
“I do have other friends, you know.” At the look I gave her, Tari sighed. “Fine. She’s one of Mama’s patients. I asked about Rose Season openings, and she said a servant had fallen ill after some... bad soup.” She averted her eyes.
“Youpoisonedsomeone?” I hissed.
“Just a little wayleaf for gastric relief,” she said quickly. “She’ll be fine by morning... or in a week.” She screwed her face. “Or three.”
My mouth flopped open.
“All right, so I wasunintentionallyheavy-handed with the wayleaf. But getting the right dosage is harder than you’d think!”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “I’ve never poisoned anyone.”
Tari put a hand on her hip. “This is your fault. You can’t tease me with an espionage scheme and expect me not to come. Besides, I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“Do I look happy?”
“You look like you’re about to pop a vein. Does that count?”
I folded my arms. “Go home.”
“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.”
“I’m the lady of Vereen.”
Tari snorted. “And I’m the queen of Daradon.” She swooped her tray under my nose, turned, and said over her shoulder, “Now that I’m here, I can sneak you extra desserts. Though I doubt you’d find room, with that pole stuck so far up your—”
She squeaked, her tarts almost toppling as a figure appeared at the alcove’s threshold.
I saw the distinctive crimson ringlets first, bouncing above glitter-dusted shoulders. Then canary-yellow satin, slinking off a generous hourglass figure—a sleek twist on Henthornian fashion nobody else had dared to emulate. But it was the jewelry that stole my breath. Huge yellow diamonds dripped down her wrists, her neck, her fingers—loudly declaring her status at court.
Princess Carmen of Daradon. King Erik’s first cousin. And next in line to the throne.
The princess angled her head around Tari and looked me over.“That’sthe ensemble they’re all fainting over?” A crooning, toffee-sweet voice. “Our last queen threw women in the dungeons for upstaging the royals. I can think of ten more creative ways to make you suffer.”
Tari stiffened. But I put myself between her and the princess, and matched that treacly tone. “Like forcing me to wear that instead?”
Carmen arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
Then she cackled and crushed me in a vanilla-scented embrace.
Tari relaxed, and I shot her a glance that said,We’re not finished talking about this, before she could stride away.
“Just a moment, peach.” Carmen halted her with a light touch to her wrist, then plucked a tart off Tari’s tray and popped it into her scarlet mouth.
Tari flushed, either at the casual term of endearment or the way Carmen licked the crumbs off her fingers one by one.
I rolled my eyes.
With an eruption of sunshine fabrics and a constellation of golden freckles, Carmen Vard possessed an uncanny magnetism that drew people into orbit around her. On her first visit to Vereen—aged seven—she’d charmed Father out of his garnet-inlaid pocket watch and had the cooks whipping up her favorite desserts, all within an hour.
I’d decided then that she was the brightest girl I’d ever met.
Carmen threw Tari a parting wink that only deepened my friend’s blush; then the princess linked our arms and drew me back into the roaring party.
“You’re a wretch,” she declared, mock-frowning. “You told me you weren’t joining court this year.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
