She did not often gaze at her own reflection. There were no mirrors in her room because she didn’t wish for the constant reminder. Staring at herself now, she tried to focus on her other features—the blue-green eyes that were more her mother’s, and the chestnut curls that favored her father. Still, there was no denying that at thirteen, she was short, thin as a rail, and decidedly unbeautiful. At least that was how she saw herself.
“Trynne?” Genevieve asked, snapping her attention back to the moment. The queen-to-be’s mother, Queen Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer Llewellyn—called Lady Evie by the Kiskaddon family—was also standing behind the princess’s chair, scrunching up her face at the handful of hair she was working into intricate braids. That critical function would not be trusted to servants, not on such an occasion.
“Yes, my lady?” Trynne asked.
Genevieve smiled prettily at her. “Don’t be so formal. We’ve known each other far too long. You must still call me Genny, even after the coronation.” She reached over her shoulder to clasp Trynne’s hand. “Your mother isn’t coming to the wedding, correct?”
Trynne nodded. “My little brother is still rather sickly,” Trynne said, thinking of the coughing six-year-old she’d left behind several days ago. “She didn’t want to leave him with our grandparents. If he rests and starts to feel better, she will try to come for the ceremony at Our Lady.”
Genevieve smiled again. “I’ll not forget the first time I went to Our Lady,” she said with a sigh. “I fell in the river and Lord Owen saved my life. I still shudder to think of it.” There was a slight tremor at her words, and Trynne could not resist the urge to smile. It was such a natural thing, so normal for most people. Her eyes darted to the mirror again, and she saw the right side of her lips had quirked up, revealing her teeth. But the left side was flat, unresponsive, giving her a mischievous look. Her heart throbbed with anguish at what had been stolen from her.
The Queen of Atabyrion’s hands were working feverishly at the braids, but she had glanced up and seen the darkness fall on Trynne’s countenance. “I understand from Owen that they never discovered for certain who attacked you,” she said with compassion in her voice.
Trynne shook her head. “Everyone believes it was a thief named Dragan. Lord Amrein found a note that had been tucked into his luggage after he’d arrived in Ploemeur. ‘A daughter for a daughter’ was all it said.” She smoothed the beautiful fabric of Genevieve’s dress, feeling the ripples of tiny seed pearls and the smooth, elegant brocade. Dragan’s own daughter, Etayne, had been the king’s poisoner years before. Trynne didn’t know all the details, only that the woman had died saving Owen’s life.
“And he’s your father’s sworn enemy,” Lady Evie said with a serious tone. “I know the Espion have been hunting him for years. It’s difficult finding a man who can become invisible.”
“Indeed it is,” Trynne said. “We don’t know for certain, of course. I never saw anyone, but I felt something was wrong. The Espion and I are good friends now,” Trynne said with another half smile.
The queen’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity.
“She’s accompanied by them day and night,” Genevieve explained. “Who is your favorite? I love Clark the best. He’s quiet and unassuming, but he’s quite funny.”
“Funny?” the queen said with a short laugh. “He hardly says two words together.”
“Only because you never stop talking, Mother,” Genevieve teased.
“Don’t be impudent, dearest,” said Lady Evie with a laugh. “Even though you will outrank me after today, it doesn’t give you liberty to be rude to your mother.”
“I would never dream of it,” Genevieve said with a laugh.
A question bubbled out of Trynne’s mouth before she could stop it. “Do you love him, Genny?”
The princess’s smile shone with a radiance too great for words, and her eyes sparkled with warmth and excitement. There was no doubt in the world how the girl felt. Oh, to smile . . .
“I do, Trynne,” Genevieve said with a sigh. “And not just because he’s a king.”
“The most powerful king in all the lands,” Lady Evie added wryly.
“He is that too,” Genevieve said, laughing. “We’ve known each other since we were children, Trynne. I was half in love with him when I was practically a baby. We didn’t rush things, and some people gossiped that he was biding his time for a political match. With Atabyrion already as an ally, he could have looked farther afield. Some whispered that perhaps the Brugian king would sire a daughter, or that Drew could marry another lady from that kingdom.”