Page 32 of The Reluctant Queen
“I thought you maybe became friends at the symposium?”
Friends? Is this one of his too-mature-for-his-age moments?She crossed her arms.
“Why do youlook like that? I’ve been writing tomynew friends, Mr. and Mrs. Gulan and Hothan Tarisden!”
Oh.
“Mr. Gulan said he will be sending me afossilized faeriefrom the Dhegurs, can you believe it!? And with Mr. Tarisden, I’ve been discussing the potential similarities between Selwassan and Karovian elemental magic.”
“What do you know about Karova?”
“Not much, but that’s why it’s so interesting!”
As her brother rambled on about his correspondence with his friends, all of whom happened to be over the age of forty-five, Hevva chuckled. It seemed his inquiry was innocent. Her reaction? Not so much.
“Posture, Hevva!” Lady Tilevirbarked at her daughter when she walked into the dining chamber that evening.
Hevva pushed her shoulders back and swallowed a sigh. A servant dashed forward to pull out her chair, snap open a napkin, and place it across her lap, all before Hevva could murmur a quiet “thank you” softly enough that her mother wouldn’t overhear.
“Where is your brother?” the duke inquired as he held his empty goblet aloft for a refill.
“He should be here in a moment; we swam too long.”
Her mother huffed. “Swimming is not an appropriate pastime for a countess, Hevva. We have discussed this.”
“Yes, Mum. It won’t happen again.”It would.
Kas stumbled into the room and plopped down into his chair.
Their mother exhaled harshly. Her brother hadn’t waited for a staff member to assist him.
Hevva blinked long and slow—a safer bet than rolling her eyes. The duchess cared about thestrangestthings. Dinner, for example, was always a formal affair with everything done by workers. It had been easy enoughfor the family to shift with the new king’s culture, to considering servants as members of staff, because they alwayswere. The Tilevir Kahoth family ensured that everyone employed by them was paid handsomely, because they always had. But the level of involvement Lady Tilevir, Duchess of Stormhill, demanded from the staff...it was a bit much for Hevva’s tastes.
Silent hands reached around her body as someone spooned a dollop of potatoes onto her plate. Another servant passed behind, sliding a piece of fish and some vegetables in front of the countess. Wine entered her glass, the bottle arriving from somewhere over her left shoulder.
Hevva thought she might like to try something at Kabuvirib that was more in line with what King Hethtar was doing at Hewran Hall and the palace. She should have asked him about his staffing structure and management style while they were at the symposium. Silly her, so many chances to glean information that would help her to better her lands and the lives of her people, and she’d been focused on other things.
What a wasted opportunity.
“Hevva. Did you hear anything I have said?”
“No.”
Her mother sighed, disappointed. “A letter arrived from Kirce—”
“Oh, from your friend?” Kas piped up.
Hevva kicked him beneath the table.
“An invitation,” the duchess finished, unamused. “Thera.” She snapped her fingers at the maid. “Bring the correspondence.”
Thera, Aylin’s beloved partner, slipped out of the room on silent feet.
Hevva’s pulse amplified as she tried to focus on the array of greens in front of her. But she found her thoughts kept drifting to a pair of eyes, quite similar in color to her salad, belonging to a man who was presently residing at Kirce Palace. Aninvitationfor what? From whom? She wasn’t going to go. She couldn’t go. There was noreasonto go. Why would she go?
I should go.
Nope. No. Shut up, Saka. Terrible idea.
