“I didn’t hear Mathilde say anything but nonsense. But I noticed that you didn’t seem surprised.”
“That is because she said what I expected.” Emilia gestures toward the low ceiling, the one window. “This is not the finest room for a queen. But for one who must be concealed it is the best choice.”
Jules scoffs.
“I am no queen.” She tugs at the ends of her short brown hair. “Look at this. All brown. And these—” She points to her eyes. “Two different colors and not one of them black. You’ve met my mother. Madrigal. Not a drop of sacred blood there, I can assure you.”
“I didn’t say you were of the queens’ line.” Emilia ducks her head, showing the rolled buns at the nape of her neck. Even wandering her own house she appears formal, in brown boots and a knee-length skirt with deep pleats. Clothes on the Vatroses have the look of a uniform, no matter the cut or material.
“Then what are you saying?”
“I am saying that the time of those queens is over.”
Jules blinks. The line of queens has been in place on Fennbirn for all recorded history. “Is that so?” she murmurs. “And what about Queen Katharine, then? The one who sits on the throne, with a crown etched into her forehead?”
“Another poisoner puppet.”
“Poisoner or not, she is the Queen Crowned. It is the island’s way.”
Emilia crosses her arms. “What if I told you there is a movement growing of people who feel betrayed by the bloodline? Who will not stand for another poisoner to rule above another poisoner’s council?”
“I would say you were lying.” Jules pats Camden on the rump and the cougar hops onto the bed. She lies down facing Emilia with her paws crossed as would a child awaiting a good story. “Queens have always killed queens, and the island accepts the outcome.”
“But this queen did not kill.”
“She tried. I was there.”
“She failed. She was not the Chosen Queen, and the island knows it. Even some of the northern priestesses.” Emilia strolls to the window and peers through the mud. “The botched Ascension was a sign. The debacle of the Quickening was a sign. You yourself are a sign. Too many signs to ignore, and now even the pious will stand with us.”
“Us? Who is ‘us’? Do you believe in these ‘signs’? Or do you believe in the will of the Goddess?”
“I believe that it is time for change. And that the Goddess’s will is for us to make that change.”
THE MAINLAND
Mirabella sips her tea as her eyes drift to the clock. It is full dark, and Arsinoe is still not home from visiting Joseph at the cemetery. Mrs. Chatworth’s foot has begun to tap, and Billy’s sister, Jane, has arched her eyebrow and sighed twice. Even Billy has gotten up to peer through the curtains.
“I should have gone with her,” he says regretfully.
“It’s not as though you could abandon Miss Hollen,” says Jane, and Mirabella sips her tea again. Arsinoe thinks that Mirabella has fallen in with the mainlanders so easily, that she has changed her feathers and joined the flock. In truth, sometimes it is so hard not to scream that she almost cracks her teeth holding her mouth shut.
“Arsinoe has been left to run wild. I know it has not been easy for you girls, coming to a new place,” Mrs. Chatworth says, finally speaking, though her eyes remain fixed on the tablecloth. She never looks at Mirabella when referring to the island or their past. Mirabella does not even know how much about the island Mrs. Chatworth knows. Billy says she knows everything, but if that is true, she seems to have done a fine job of forgetting about it.
“Indeed, it must have been very hard,” she goes on. “But we cannot be expected to . . . corral her at every turn.”
“Corral?” Mirabella bristles.
“Perhaps that is an unfair term. But the fact remains that my son will not be able to look after her forever. Soon enough, he’ll be at university. And then he must make a profitable marriage and start a family of his own.”
Billy winces. Especially at the word “marriage.”
“University,” Mirabella says to him, and raises her eyebrows. “You have not told Arsinoe of this.”
“It’s not far. A few hours’ ride by coach. I’ll be home every Saturday and in between terms.”
Mirabella rises from the table, and the other women stare at her above the rims of their teacups.
“Excuse us a moment. I would speak to Billy alone.”
“No, please,” Mrs. Chatworth says, clearly irritated. “Why should my guest be made to leave the room when I could? Come, Jane, let us retire. I’ve had quite enough of the tedium of waiting.”
Mirabella steps aside as she and Jane quit the room and walk with straight backs up the stairs.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Billy says as soon as he hears both of their bedroom doors shut.
“Do you?”
“It’s just that I haven’t known how to tell her. Or you.” He looks at her guiltily and ruffles his sandy hair. “I feel a complete ass, leaving you like this. But I have to go. If we’re going to make a life here I need an education. We’re rich but not so rich that I can simply be a man of leisure.”
He goes to the window to look again for Arsinoe. “If only my father would come home.”
“Are you surprised he has not returned already?”
He shrugs. “After the way I defied him on Fennbirn, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sailed all the way around the world before coming back. With stops at every friendly port. Or he could return tomorrow. And when he sees you and Arsinoe . . . that’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to having.”
“It seems there are many conversations you are not looking forward to having.”
“Mira, are you cross with me? I haven’t seen that look on your face since the day I met you in Rolanth and threatened to skewer you through the neck.”
“Do not be silly.” She softens at the memory. “I was cross with you nearly every time you cooked for me.”
“Kept you from being poisoned, didn’t I?” He grins, but it fades quickly. “Well, except for that last time.”
“That was no one’s fault. But do not change the subject.”
“What subject? I thought we were just waiting for your sister.”
Mirabella goes to the window and snatches the curtains out of his fingers.
“About my sister,” she says. “How many times have I heard your mother hint about how much happier Arsinoe would be at your country estate? Hidden away from you and away from anyone who might view her as an embarrassment. How many times have they mentioned Christine Hollen as your potential bride?”
“Lots, I suppose.”
“Then when are you going to tell them about you and Arsinoe? That she will not be sent away. That you will not be cowed into marrying someone else.”
Billy lowers his head. He is a handsome young man. Many times Mirabella has thought so. His looks are less dramatic than Joseph’s were; he is less like a thunderstorm. He is real and of the earth. He is what her sister needs. Or at least he was. But here on the mainland, he is no longer the daring suitor who risked everything for them. On the island, he was courageous, with an outsider’s bravado. Here when girls call him a rogue, they only mean he is trying to get under several skirts at once.
“If you regret bringing us here,” she says carefully, “if you do not intend to be with Arsinoe, then I will take her someplace else. I am not without skill or cleverness. I can make a life for us.”
Billy stares at her, almost like he does not believe her. But then he takes her hand.
“That’s the last thing I want. I will tell them. You have my word. I won’t leave her without assurances.”
Before Mirabella can say anything further, he sees movement thought the curtains and exclaims, “She’s here!”
He opens the door and reveals Arsinoe, shivering and soaking wet, on the front step, with what looks to be a dirty fur rolled up beneath her arm. Then Billy embraces her, and the fur barks.
“I found him in an alley after some boys chased him down there with sticks.” Arsinoe holds the dog, squirming, to her chest.