She turned and strode toward the warriors. The Ruined followed her.
She glanced down the line of red-clad men and women. They didn’t even have the decency to look nervous. Most of them watched the approaching Ruined with interest, like they didn’t think they had a reason to be scared.
Olivia curled her fingers into a fist. She could fix that.
A warrior stepped forward as she approached. “Your Majesty. We have—”
He flew through the air, his screams fading as he shot away from them. One by one, Olivia lifted the warriors into the air and tossed them away. Faces twisted with horror. A few tried to run.
That would teach them not to be afraid of her.
She lifted the last few warriors off the ground and shot them through the air. In the distance, the bodies thudded as they hit the ground.
“That track leads to the castle,” Mariana said, pointing to metal in the dirt. It disappeared in the distance. “I took the rail-car the first time I was here, but it doesn’t look like it’s here.”
Olivia blew out a frustrated breath. There were a few horses tied to a post, but she couldn’t jump on one and abandon the rest of the Ruined. They needed her protection.
She started toward the tracks. “We’ll go by foot.”
A stern-faced woman showed Em to her room. It was impressively big, with a giant bed covered by a fluffy white blanket, a tall wardrobe, and a table along one wall. Fruit, bread, and tea sat on the table, and her stomach growled at the sight.
“Your clothes are in the wardrobe,” the woman said. She stood in front of the door, arms crossed over her chest. “A girl will be in shortly with water for your bath. In the meantime, yell if you need anything.” She left, pulling the door closed behind her. The click of the lock echoed across the room.
Em grabbed a piece of bread and opened the wardrobe drawer. Two pairs of pants and two red tunics hung inside. She sighed, thinking of her pretty dresses in Lera. She wondered if they were still there.
A young woman brought her bathwater and left without saying a word. The water was freezing cold, and Em bathed quickly and put on the clothes. They were soft and comfortable and had two crossed swords—the symbol of Olso—stitched onto the left side. She rolled her eyes. No doubt Lucio had thought he was hilarious.
A knock sounded at the door, and she blew out an annoyed breath.
“I’m locked in, you idiots!” she yelled.
A man chuckled, and the lock clicked. The door opened to reveal George.
“Hello. I’ve been appointed to give you a tour of the castle before dinner. We thought you might hate me slightly less than my brothers.”
“What gives you that impression?”
“Well, I haven’t kidnapped you or threatened to invade your kingdom, so I must be better than August or Lucio.”
“Barely.”
“Wonderful. Follow me.”
She considered refusing, but she really needed to get an idea of how the castle was laid out. Maybe she could even find a sword to take August’s head off.
She trudged out of the room behind George. Two warriors stood outside her door, and they stood up straighter when she appeared.
“Let’s start in the east wing,” George said as they walked down the stairs. “I think you’ll like it.”
They walked through the open room at the bottom of the stairs where Em had first come in. The castle buzzed with noise as they started down the dim hallway. Chatter and laughter followed her, and she cast a look over her shoulder to see a child dart past and disappear.
George opened a door and sunlight flooded the hallway. She stepped inside to find a large room with art hung on almost every space of wall. There was a seating area in the middle, but from the looks of the pristine red chairs, it wasn’t used often.
A tall painting immediately caught her eye. It was on the wall to her left, so big it ran floor to ceiling. The woman in the painting wore an elaborate black dress and lace gloves, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She had one hand on her waist, and she stared out of the painting with a look that was somehow both amusement and disgust. Em knew the expression well. It was her mother.
“Why do you have a portrait of my mother?” She strode across the room to it.
“It was a gift.”
“From who?”
“From Wenda Flores.”
Em tried to hold back a laugh. “My mother sent you a painting of herself?”
“She was a special kind of woman, wasn’t she?” George asked with a grin.
That was one way to put it. She tilted her chin up to stare at her mother’s face. It was a good likeness of her, and Em expected a surge of sadness. Instead, she shifted uncomfortably and rubbed a finger across her necklace. Olivia looked very much like their mother. They were so alike, in so many ways.
“When did she send this?” she asked.
“It’s been almost ten years, I think. My father loved it. He thought it was hilarious.”
“Really.”
“He did. He had it on display in his library for a while. He showed it to everyone.”
“Nothing like an alliance with Wenda Flores to terrify guests.”
George chuckled. “Exactly. But Lucio is less fond of it. He had it moved in here. He says her expression makes him uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure that was her goal,” Em murmured.
“Come on. Lots more to see. You can come back in here after dinner, if you’d like.”
She followed him out of the room, looking over her shoulder at the painting as she left. Truth be told, her mother’s expression made her a little uncomfortable as well.
George led her around the castle, to the meeting rooms and ballrooms and training rooms (there were many of those). She spotted a letter opener on a desk in one of the meeting rooms and pocketed it. She could cut open August’s neck with it, if she really put some muscle into it.
The family was already seated when George took her to the dining room. A servant led her to the chair between Lucio and his wife.
“How was the tour?” Lucio asked.
“It’s not nearly as nice as the Lera castle,” she said with a smile. Across from her, August rolled his eyes.
“That’s our castle now anyway,” he said.
A staff member put a plate of food in front of her. Em picked up her knife and stabbed the chicken with more force than was necessary.
“The chicken is already dead, Em,” August said. This elicited a round of laughter from his brothers and their spouses.
“I was pretending it was your face,” she said to August.
George threw his head back and howled. “I like her, Auggie. It’s too bad you couldn’t convince her to marry you.”
“I shouldn’t have had to convince her of anything,” August said.
Em cocked an eyebrow at him. August laid his fork down, leveling his gaze with hers.
“Uh-oh,” Dante said. The second-youngest Olso prince snickered as he looked between them.
“You should have been grateful I wanted to marry you,” August said.