“Crown Princess?” A servant—Odila, Adale’s memory supplied—was eyeing her nervously. “Do you require help?”
Adale rose quickly. There was already a cramp in her knee from her unnatural position in front of the door.
“No, no, I’m all right,” Adale lied, swiping at her own eyes, which had apparently become irritated by some dust.
“If there is something you require, Mistress Abbing has all the keys,” said Odila. Then she scurried off, as though suddenly remembering an urgent task. Adale wanted to call a thank-you after her, but her throat felt oddly harsh. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself.
“Crown Princess?”
Adale turned around at the familiar voice. Esofi was standing there before her, attended by only one of her ladies.
“Princess,” said Adale. “I thought you were going to the hospital.”
“There has been a change in plans,” said Esofi in a tight little voice. “Are you…are you well? Have you been locked out of your rooms?”
“What? I…” Adale looked at the door. “Oh. No. No, no. This isn’t my room. It’s…it is, or it was…Albion’s.”
“I see,” said Esofi quietly.
“I don’t actually know why I’m here.” Adale shook her head. She wondered what Esofi, who seemed to have so much trust in the gods, would say about Albion’s death. She wondered if she should ask, if it would make her feel better or worse. If Esofi said that it was all a part of some incomprehensible plan, Adale might actually slap her.
And what if she blames me for his death? There was a chance Esofi had heard the story and already did, but perhaps she’d managed to miss it. Adale knew her parents blamed her, no matter what they claimed, and always would. It was strange to realize it, but Adale did not want forgiveness. She did not, and would never, deserve it.
Esofi pressed her lips together, but she didn’t seem angry. She looked…thoughtful.
“I still have those letters,” she said. “The ones Albion sent me.”
“Oh,” said Adale. “I— Yes, I remember. You told me…”
“If you would like to review them with me,” said Esofi, “I would… I think perhaps…it would be…”
“Yes,” Adale interjected. “Yes, I would like that.”
“Come with me, then,” said Esofi.
They walked together to Esofi’s rooms with Esofi’s lady trailing behind them. Adale wondered where the other two had gotten to. Perhaps they were already in Esofi’s room, waiting for their princess to return.
They arrived at Esofi’s door, and she unlocked it. Adale had only caught a glimpse of the inside once, on the night she’d brought the kitten, but now she went inside for the first time. It was not too different from her own rooms in layout, though it did seem to be more traditionally decorated.
“Wait here,” Esofi told Adale and then vanished through the door that Adale supposed led to her private rooms. Esofi’s waiting lady sat down on the sofa and smiled brightly.
“What was your name, again?” Adale asked.
“Mireille of Aelora, Your Highness,” said the girl. Then she leaned in a bit closer to whisper to Adale. “She likes you, you know.”
“Oh,” said Adale, taken aback. “Does she?”
Mireille nodded knowledgeably but said no more.
“Where is Lexandrie?” asked Esofi, returning with a bundle of old papers in her hands. The kitten was balanced on her shoulder, looking around at everything with bright gray eyes as though trying to decide where to spring to first.
“Not here, I think,” said Mireille, not sounding too concerned. She found a sewing bag on the floor and plucked a half-completed embroidery piece from it. “Maybe she’s trying to get some Ieflarians to fight over her glove.”
Adale had no idea what this meant, and neither Mireille nor Esofi chose to elaborate. Esofi settled on the opposite couch, her skirts fluffing up around her like a great wave, and began sorting through the letters.
“I’ve all but the earliest ones,” murmured Esofi, more to herself than Adale. “Sit beside me. They’re all in Ieflarian, so you won’t have any trouble reading them.”
Adale took the seat next to Esofi. The princess’s elaborate dress kept her from getting as close as she would have liked, but it was still closer than they’d have been allowed if they were in public. Adale glanced at Mireille, but the waiting lady seemed focused only on her embroidery, though she appeared to be having difficulty keeping down a smile.
“Here’s one where he wrote of you,” said Esofi, passing a sheet of paper over to Adale. “You see? He says you two went riding together.”
Adale checked the date on the letter and saw that it was almost five years old. She did not remember the day or the ride, but there had been so many like it that she supposed remembering one specific trip would be impossible.
“I really must organize these,” sighed Esofi. “I was reading them on the journey and now they’re all out of order.”
“Give me another,” said Adale, suddenly feeling as though she was starving. “Any one, it doesn’t matter, I don’t have to be in it.”
Esofi gave her another piece of paper, and Adale read every word, though most of it didn’t make as much sense as she’d imagined it would, as it all responded to a conversation that Adale had never seen. But it was still a wonderful gift, proof that Albion had once been real and alive and loved…
Dearest Esofi, all the letters began. His handwriting had always been so much better than hers. Adale wondered how Esofi’s letters back to him had been addressed. Dearest Albion, maybe? Or perhaps more formally than that, knowing Esofi…
Esofi had gone silent. She was staring at another letter and blinking very quickly, over and over and over again.
“Mireille,” said Esofi at last, her voice oddly shaky. “Water, if you would…”
Mireille was up immediately, hurrying all around the suite to find a pitcher for her princess. But it seemed there was nothing to be found.
“Ridiculous!” cried Mireille. “Do they wish you to die of dehydration? Give me just a moment, Princess. I’ll find you something…” And she left the suite.
Adale felt a little jolt of surprise as the door clicked shut behind her. She and Esofi were alone. Surely, Esofi felt that it was inappropriate…or perhaps her thoughts were on other things.
Esofi removed the kitten from her shoulder and set it down in her lap.
“Do you like him?” Adale asked. When Esofi looked at her in confusion, she added, “The kitten, I mean. I…probably shouldn’t have given you a live animal without asking. I…I’m not very… I’m sorry.”
“I do like him,” said Esofi, one delicate gloved hand stroking the kitten’s back, which arched under her touch. “We’ve decided to call him Cream.” She set the pages down and looked at Adale. “Besides, I think a little bit of spontaneity won’t hurt me.”
“Oh,” said Adale. For some reason, she was having trouble coming up with a suitable response. Esofi was so close, and they were alone, finally… Should she do something? Was Esofi expecting her to do something? Had she and Mireille planned for them to be alone? Or…maybe not. Maybe Esofi was frightened and uncomfortable and afraid Adale might try something inappropriate.
She’ll beat you even more easily than she beat Theodoar. Realistically, she was in more danger from Esofi than Esofi was from her.
“Your cousins mean to court me,” said Esofi. It was not a question.
“Yes,” said Adale. “Who told you?”
Esofi shrugged. “I guessed. You already told me they would be suitable candidates. It seems they’ve had the same idea.”
“Yes, but I’ve changed my mind,” said Adale. “I mean to marry you.”
“So you say,” murmured Esofi, gazing up at Adale through her eyelashes. Adale very slowly brought one hand up to cup the side of Esofi’s face, half expecting the princess to scream or slap her.
“Mind the powder,” said Esofi very quietly. “You’ll have white hands.”
“I don’t mind,” Adale replied, suddenly feeling as though she was in a dream. She brushed her thumb across Esofi’s lips, the gesture leaving a little spot of pink color on her fingertip. Esofi closed her eyes.
“Shall I stop?” whispered Adale.