“Why don’t you?”
His question bites more than I’d like. I shove it aside. “I’m under direct orders not to reveal myself to anyone, under any circumstance. Things are tense in Thurn. And we’ve already had one member of our family made an unjust target.”
“Convenient,” he says.
“Necessary,” I say.
We’re still nose to nose in the empty hallway, tempers smoking.
But he starts walking again. I follow warily.
When we reach the entrance to our Safire floor, he gestures. “Here you are, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how I’d have made it without the help.”
He gives a sour glare, then blanches.
I turn just in time to see Garrick disappear around a corner with a brunette on his lips.
The singing girl.
For a moment, the Prince looks ready to hunt them both down, the blackest kind of fury in his gaze, but I’m the only one within reach. The highest target there is. “Hell to pay,” he says, seizing my arm tight enough to leave another bruise, “do you understand?”
I nod and he departs. My heart continues stammering away. I don’t like being afraid of him, but he knows. He’s aware there’s a larger game afoot, and if he hasn’t told anyone else by now, then maybe he’s actually smart enough to know what moves to make. Damn him. I liked it better when he was an idiot. I don’t think he’ll rat me out to Aurelia. He’s too much like Kalt—hiding behind his pride, happy to have important secrets. But Havis? Sinora? I thought for sure they’d tell her. Now I wonder if they see the truth I’m beginning to see—that even if they told her who I was, my real name, she wouldn’t hate me. She has no reason to. In fact, she might even try to get closer, earnest in her interest, and they can’t afford that. She’d only ask too many questions. They can’t make her despise me without opening up a darker, hidden truth, and for all her noble talk about fate and acceptance, Aurelia’s got a fire that refuses to be written off. Maybe that’s why no one shares the things they should.
Or even the things they shouldn’t.
Guilt creeps into my throat again, dry and scratchy.
Murder.
Why did she have to tell me that?
AURELIA
When Havis and I reach Mother’s parlour, the sun has fully set and the halls are deepening to midnight blue in the low light. She’s posted guards outside her doors for the duration of the Safire visit, and they give us both a strange look, a touch nervous.
This makes me suspicious, and I turn to Havis. “Why does she want to see me?”
He blinks a moment, like he’s considering a lie, then tosses it aside. “She doesn’t. But I need you to call on her for me. She’s in meeting with the General and I dare not interrupt. For you, she’d be more forgiving.”
“No,” I say. “I won’t.”
“Then I’ll be sure to explain how I found the Lieutenant cornering you in an unseemly way. He might not wriggle out of that one as easily as he did spying.”
Fury burns away my reluctance. I knock on the door lightly, and nothing happens. Havis reaches over and raps on the wood with a fist. The guards nearly perspire.
“If she’s angry,” I say, “I’m blaming this on you.”
“She won’t be angry.”
Stars, how does he survive life with such smug conviction?
A maid-servant opens the door, peering at us like a twitching bird.
“The Princess needs to see her mother,” Havis says for me. “Now.”
She nods, overwhelmed by the blunt order, and allows me into the room. We cross the parlour to Mother’s private drawing room, but she hesitates with knuckles to the closed door, eyes on the Resyan rug beneath her feet, unwilling to proceed further.
I do the knocking myself.
After a long moment, it opens. Mother’s face quickly switches from annoyance to surprise. “Aurelia, what are you doing here?”
Behind her, General Dakar is seated at the small table, no sign of Uncle or Admiral Malek. It’s only the two of them and a half-eaten meal.
I swallow, a tremor of uncertainty rippling. “Ambassador Havis would like to speak with you.”
Agitation shadows her face, her hand on the knob of the door, but the General appears unhurried. “Go on, Your Majesty,” he says. “I’ll wait.”
Her eyes dance to me.
Dakar smiles. “And I’d enjoy a chance to become better acquainted with your daughter.”
Now my palms are sweating. The prospect of being two feet from the General of Savient, alone, is more than I bargained for.
Mother seems to feel the same way, shifting on her feet in hesitation, but she nods. “Very well. I’ll return shortly.”
The maid-servant hurries after her to open the main door, and I attempt to compose myself. My brain runs through a hasty checklist of politics not to be mentioned—Karkev, Thurn, the Nahir.
“Please, sit down,” he says, gesturing to the seat my mother abandoned. “Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I settle before him as he pours tea from the pot, an unexpected thing to see the General do, and I feel like a curious child pretending not to stare. His harsh face, littered with lines, speaks to a life lived on the edge of something awful, yet I can’t help but notice he might have been quite handsome once upon a time. There’s an elegance to his long nose and strong jaw.
He sets the pot down and studies me. I glance away.
“You look…,” he begins, then stops. “Well, you look like your mother, Princess.”
It’s an odd time for that observation, because I feel as far from Mother as a muddy stick from a star. I’m still covered in dust, hair a mess—and wearing pants, no less.
“Thank you,” I say, though.
“And we’ll have to make plans for the air demonstration you requested.”
I glance into his face fully, now, out of surprise. “The air demonstration?”
“Of course. Your compliment the day we met isn’t forgotten. I wouldn’t wish to disappoint you.”
He sounds much kinder about it now than he did on the steps. Perhaps here, away from public view, he can afford to be more generous. “We’d be most honoured, General.”
“I’d offer one this week, but you can’t have a proper demonstration with only two planes. We’ll need to bring more.”
“I suppose so,” I say, though I really don’t know any better. Two planes would be exciting enough for me, and perhaps for most of Etania. And it would be particularly exciting if Athan Erelis were to be flying one of them.
He continues to watch me, hand resting on his cup.
“It’s truly wonderful of you to visit Etania,” I say. “We’re very grateful for your willingness. They say there’s no other place like Savient in all the world.”
He nods.
I want to go further, to fill the silence, but I only know about Savient from the papers—things about his aeroplanes and monstrous battleships and the fact his eldest son is said to be more ingenious than all the Landorian colonels combined. These things sound too formal and detached, things he certainly hears everywhere he goes. Things he’ll only nod at me about.
But since I now know Athan’s perspective of things, perhaps that’s the best place to start. “No one understands yet, General, but truly, I don’t think leadership can be learned only in a palace. You’ve been through such terrible things, and you bring the experience and wisdom that most of us long for.”
He raises a hand. “Princess, I’m not a man who enjoys flattery. I prefer honesty, from everyone.”
“Oh.” I pause. “Well, I did mean it. I believe you’ll settle the South and make the world a better place.” I swallow, awkwardly. “For us … and for them.”
I’m not sure exactly what I intend with the last point, but if others in Savient believe, as Athan does, that the people in Thurn are unhappy for good reason, then I’m willing to show my acknowledgment of it.
Interest flickers on his face, and he offers me a bowl of summer cherries.
“My favourite,” I say, taking one.