“You don’t normally dress up, do you?” Eleanor asked as she touched a few dots of floral perfume to my throat.
“I don’t even own a dress,” I admitted. “In my normal life, all this would only get in the way of defending myself.”
Eleanor ran a hand along my hair, fluffing it gently. “Words can cut as deeply as a blade, you know. So can titles, or influence, or one’s appearance. Especially here at court. Some Corbois refuse to even wear weapons, because they think it makes them look weak.”
My eyebrows flew upward. “Really?”
She nodded and met my gaze in the mirror. “To be honest, in House Corbois, I fear those who don’t wear weapons much more than those who do.”
“You don’t wear weapons.”
Her grin was pure mischief. “Exactly.”
I laughed and grabbed a leg strap from the collection Luther had given me, then found Brecke’s knife tangled in the sheets and secured it high on my thigh, plainly visible through the dress’s slit.
“I’ll keep my weapons for now, but I appreciate the advice.” I sighed. “I have a lot to learn, I think.”
Eleanor looked hesitant. “I could teach you, if you’d like. Tell you what I know about royal life and protocol.”
My skepticism prickled. “But only if I claim House Corbois?”
“You’ll need help even if you don’t claim my House. Especially if you don’t claim my House.”
“And you want to secure your place with the new Crown,” I said, my tone chilling.
Eleanor avoided my eyes and fidgeted with the folds of her skirt. “I won’t pretend it didn’t cross my mind. I’ve spent my life at court. Dealing with the politics and the rumors, the unspoken rules—it’s the only thing I’m any good at. I can’t fight like Alixe, I don’t have powerful magic like Luther.” She finally looked back up at me, and I could read the humble honesty in her features. “It would be nice to feel useful. Especially to someone who matters to all of them.”
I understood her then. Like me, she’d been born into a box with a tight lid and hard walls, designed to keep her small and insignificant. And, like me, she’d dreamed of being more—of being someone who mattered.
I shrugged. “Alright.”
She lit up. “Alright?”
I took her hands. “Eleanor Corbois, do you agree to serve as a loyal advisor to the Crown on all matters of politics, rumors, unspoken rules, and whatever other embarrassing mistakes I’m surely going to make?”
She looked so overjoyed she might cry. “Yes, Your Majesty, I would be honored to serve you.”
“Wonderful. And please, call me Diem.”
Making Eleanor my first advisor was turning out to be a very wise idea.
She took to her role with impressive enthusiasm. For the next few hours, we walked through the palace while she pointed out every room, every hiding place, and every back stairwell or servant’s corridor for sneaking around unseen. She introduced me to many of the workers, gushing in their presence over the most talented among them, and warning me in private of the ones with loose lips and wandering eyes.
She knew all the guards as well, counseling me which of them would fall asleep while on watch and which had received their posts through bribery rather than merit. The guards on my detail, she assured me, were four of the best—and the most discreet—notwithstanding Luther’s dressing down of them the night before.
By noon, the palace had begun to feel less like some foreign land and more like… not a home—not yet, maybe not ever—but something closer to familiar. I could already tell I would need to keep Eleanor close.
I supposed I would have to find a way to spare her, too, from my plan of destruction.
Most helpfully, she dished without reservation on her family and its complex dynamics. We discussed the subject over a lunch of finger sandwiches and fruit, which we’d brought to a small table in the garden to take advantage of the unseasonably warm day—and to avoid the prying eyes and ears of the packed dining hall. Sorae sprawled on a patch of grass nearby, sunning her outstretched wings.
“So Remis and Garath hate each other?” I asked as I nibbled on a wedge of tart green apple.
“Not exactly. They’re brothers, so they would certainly choose each other over anyone outside of the family, but Garath never got over King Ulther choosing Remis as Regent. Garath believes that, as the elder brother, the title should have gone to him.”
“Why didn’t it?”
She looked down, chewing on her lip. “Uncle Garath has… issues managing his anger.” She shot me a look. “Besides, you met him. Did he come off as particularly diplomatic to you?”
“Good point. Why does he care so much about the title? What does being Regent even mean?”
“The Regent acts as the Crown when the Crown cannot. For example, when Ulther fell unconscious, Remis effectively took his place as King.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And no one wondered if Remis had something to do with the King’s illness?”
“Oh, they did. Especially the other Houses. Everyone suspected Uncle Remis was trying to get his brother out of the way so he and his son could take over.”
“Was everyone truly so certain that Luther would be the next Crown? I thought the magic could choose anyone.”
Eleanor nodded as she sipped her wine. “It can, but with Luther, it was never really a question. No one else’s magic even came close. He tries not to use it often—I’ve only seen him let loose a couple of times, and wow.” She blew out a breath, then looked at me with a sense of wonder in her eyes. “If your magic is stronger than his, it’s incredible you were able to stay hidden for so long. When we were teenagers, if Luther got angry, he could accidentally take out an entire building. They even pulled him out of school because they were so afraid he would hurt someone. He had to have a tutor alone.”
I started to correct her and mention that I didn’t have any magic, but the memory of Luther’s warning stilled my tongue.
“Doesn’t it bother you that your family members might be killing each other?” I asked instead.
“It would, if I believed it. I doubt Remis was in a hurry to see Luther on the throne. Those two aren’t as close as they seem.” She popped a raspberry into her mouth. “They put on a united front for the family’s sake, but I’ve heard them fight when they think no one is around. They have very different plans for Lumnos.”
I tried not to look too curious. “And what are those plans?”
“Whatever they were, they blew away once you walked in the door.” She grinned and refilled my wine, nudging the glass closer to me. “Your plans are the only ones that matter now.”
Indeed.
I slumped back and closed my eyes, tilting my face up to the sunny warmth. I had to grip the arms of my chair to steady myself as the world kept tilting—and tilting, and tilting. It seemed I’d had more wine than I thought.
“Is there any more pleasing sight than two beautiful women basking under the Lumnos sun?” a man drawled in a voice as smooth as satin on bare skin.
“Already trying to charm our new Queen, Aemonn?”