Page 6 of Promise of Darkness
“There can be only one.” One queen. One heir. It’s how the Kingdom of Asturia operates. And there are whispers our mother, the queen, is fading, though I’ve seen no sign of it myself. “Let’s not pretend I wouldn’t be a threat to you if you left me alive.” Every scheming courtier in the castle would see me as an opportunity to climb the ladder at court. “Let’s not pretend I’m stupid enough to think you wouldn’t. You should have waited. You should have let the bane have me.”
“Vi.” She snags my wrist as I turn to go.
I arch a brow, waiting for her to protest that it’s not like that at all. That we’re sisters, not a threat to each other. But Mother has done her job far too well.
“I am either Mother’s heir or I am dead,” I say quietly. “I don’t even want the throne. I just want to stay alive. And so do you.”
“There are other options.”
“Oh, really? I would love to hear your proposition.”
Her lips press thinly together.
“Marriage into another kingdom? You know we’d both be merely pawns. And Mother’s done too good a job in alienating every other royal court. Besides, I’d prefer to choose my own husband rather than become some petty prince’s little plaything.”
None of the royal options are anything short of skin-crawling. The fae can be merciless and malicious. Royals never sit on an easy throne, and the truth is, no innocent ever holds a position of power in this world.
Not for long anyway.
Those who rule kingdoms are rarely kind.
“Maybe marriage doesn’t have to be a death sentence,” she says slowly.
“And maybe that bane there didn’t intend to kill either of us. Maybe it was trying to give me a hug.”
Andraste slowly lets me go. “We’re not enemies, Vi. I would protect you.”
She doesn’t understand. She never will. She’s always been Mother’s favorite. The one who sits in on council meetings. The one who receives gifts from visiting nobles, as if they already consider her to be Mother’s heir.
The one who can wield her own magic, when mine dies on my fingertips in a shower of sparks.
“I wish that was the truth,” I murmur. I miss my sister. But neither of us are children anymore, and I can’t afford to forget that. “And I’d stay to help you lug your trophy home, but I think I’d best get a head start before night falls. Got to watch my back out there.”
2
Two dresses hang in the closet in front of me, both gauzy and overflowing with far too much fabric. Neither are my preferred style, but that’s not the point.
Tonight is Lammastide and appearances have to be met.
Tonight I’m not Iskvien, second daughter of a merciless queen. Tonight I’m an Asturian princess, ruthless in her own right, invulnerable to those who might seek to bring down my mother’s court. It might only be silk, but it’s armor of a kind, though I’d far prefer a chain mail vest.
“Wear the red,” says a clipped voice from the doorway. “It will accentuate your dark hair and olive skin.”
My fingers still on the fabric. “Mother. What a pleasant surprise.”
It is neither.
She wasn’t here when we returned from the hunt. It’s been three days. And I know Andraste made her report. I daresay it wasn’t favorable.
I’ve been waiting for the queen to make an appearance, and point out all the ways in which I fail her. Queen Adaia is not the type to strike immediately. She likes to let her opponents wait. And each day she hesitates to strike is one more hint of her displeasure, one more sign it’s going to be fatal.
Three days…. Not quite a storm of rage that could threaten to tear the palace apart, but a quiet, deadly chill, I suspect. Like the breath of winter down your spine.
I turn as the queen sweeps inside the room, her heavy silver gown dragging over the marble tiles with a rasp. We’re as different as night and day, and I see Andraste in the queen’s features, which is simply another reminder of whom the favorite daughter is. They share the same stubborn chin and full mouth, high-swept cheekbones highlighting the vaguely feline shape of their blue eyes.
But Mother’s hair is wheaten gold, drawn up into a coronet of braids upon which rests her sharp-pointed crown. And she’s taller, slightly thinner. More dangerous.
Anyone looking at the two of us might wonder if we shared any blood at all.
