A guttural rumble rolled from Sorae’s throat at the implication.
Eleanor set her sketchbook in her lap. “If you believe that, why do you allow him to advise you so closely?”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, I suppose. And closer still if you don’t know which is which.” It was the most honest answer I dared to give.
She tapped her pencil to her temple and smiled. “You’re catching on to the rules of court very quickly, Your Majesty.”
I laughed, though my chest puffed with pride at her compliment. “Besides, Luther isn’t my advisor. You’re my only one.”
The pencil dropped from her hand like a stone. “I am?” From the way she gaped at me, one would have thought I’d told her I was rebuilding the palace with leaves and paste.
“Why, did Luther tell you otherwise?” My eyes rolled upward. “Just because he follows me around and tells me what to do at all times does not mean—”
“N-no,” she stammered, blinking rapidly. “I just—I assumed… Luther, Aemonn, they’re members of the Crown Council, and I…” Her shoulders curved inward, as if she feared she was taking up too much space. “I’m truly the only one?”
I sat beside her on the low marble bench and nudged her with my knee. “They might have advised the King, but I need advisors I can trust. When I asked you why you offered to help me, you didn’t give me the story I wanted to hear. You told me the truth. I won’t soon forget that, Eleanor. If those men want to advise me, then they’re the ones who should be taking lessons from you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, barely audible. Her curls fell into a curtain that hid her face as she hunched over her sketchbook, but not before I caught a glisten under her long lashes.
She sniffled softly. “No one has ever believed in me before. All I’ve ever been is a silly, frivolous girl with weak magic and nothing to offer.”
Something in her response plucked a string inside me, its low note resonating in my ears.
“They want us to feel small, Eleanor. They want us to be quiet, be predictable, be unimportant, behave. Then they make us think we deserve it. But I think they’re just terrified we’ll stop listening to them and start listening to each other. And do you know why they’re so scared of women like us?”
Our gazes met, two sets of glittering eyes shining in shared determination.
“Why?” she asked.
My answering grin was positively wicked.
“Because they damn well should be.”
Sorae snapped her teeth with an insistent yip. Though she might only have been impatient for me to toss another apple, a part of me wondered if my clever gryvern wasn’t listening—and agreeing.
Eleanor swiped at her cheeks and gave me a smile that radiated the light of Blessed Lumnos herself. “Diem Corbois, I’m so very glad that you’re my Queen.”
My discussion with Eleanor had improved my spirits. Though my head was still buried with the grief I’d felt the evening prior, somewhere under the dark soil, a seed of hope was sprouting to the surface.
As Queen, I could help people. I could help mortals, of course, but I was starting to realize that I could help the Descended, too. The good ones—the worthy ones, however few they may be. Centuries of archaic, unjust traditions ruled this realm, and perhaps I alone had the power to end them.
If I could survive the Challenging.
Those thoughts circulated in my head as I walked through the palace. Eleanor had left to meet with friends in another House, promising to return with news on what rumors of the new Queen were being traded among the elite social circles. Luther, my persistent shadow, had gone curiously missing, and it was still hours before Lily and Teller would be done with school.
Even my usual escort of guards was gone, having been scaled back after my official acceptance of House Corbois. I found myself, for the very first time, free to roam the gigantic estate that had become my new home—alone.
That was my fate. Life in this palace. Alone.
As alone as one could be, surrounded by hundreds of strangers vying for my attention.
“Ah, there you are, Your Majesty.”
“Remis,” I said, giving him a polite nod in greeting.
“What a pleasant surprise. My son claimed you were too busy to meet with me today.”
So Luther was trying to keep me from his father.
Interesting.
I kept my reaction casually indifferent. “Is there something you need to discuss?”
“I wanted to formally welcome you to House Corbois.” He gave a stiff bow. “Blessed Mother Lumnos has honored us with many generations of service to the realm. We all look forward to continuing this great tradition at your side.”
Remis was a consummate diplomat. His features radiated cordiality, and the rich smoothness of his voice could put anyone at ease. His posture was approachable, yet still deferential. By all appearances, he looked thrilled to have me around.
It was only the flicker of tension in his jaw—a trait he shared with his son—that exposed what I knew to be the truth.
“I’m sure you do,” I said with a sweet smile.
Low on his cheek, a muscle twitched.
“I take it my son informed you that the King’s funeral will take place in two days’ time.”
“He has. Aemonn was kind enough to tell me of the Ascension Ball, as well.”
His smile was warm caramel, thick and honeyed. Nothing like the brightness of his son’s, rare as it might be. “I’m pleased to hear they have heeded my orders to make themselves useful to you.”
“So many of my new cousins have been eager to offer their help. I wasn’t aware I had you to thank for that.”
Another twitch.
“As your Regent, I only wanted to—”
“The late King’s Regent,” I corrected. “I’ve not yet chosen mine.”
His mask faltered at last. His lips remained curved, his eyes crinkled, but the warmth in his features dissipated as if chilled by a winter gust.
“If you get to reign, Your Majesty. There are many obstacles to overcome to ensure such a happy day comes to pass.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So many? I hear a Challenge to a Corbois Crown is almost unheard of. I hope you’re not suggesting your House can’t provide the protection our deal promised.”
Something wild and dangerous flashed briefly in Remis’s eyes—another trait I had seen too frequently in his son.
“It isn’t the Corbois name alone that wields such influence. It’s the depth of our relationships across all nine realms. The many enemies one stands to make, if one dares to cross us.”
He delivered the threat with the same offhanded lightness as he might discuss the weather.
A true diplomat, indeed.
“And, of course,” he rushed on, “we have wisdom acquired through our many years of service. While our youngest members may be helpful, the elder Corbois have much sage counsel to offer, should you be open to it.”
The urge to continue provoking him was strong. It was hard not to look at him and think of all the injustices done to the mortals under his watch as Regent.
But timing was everything. While I wanted to keep Remis and his kin unsure of their position so they focused more on winning me over than digging into my mortal life, I didn’t want to go far enough to make an enemy of them.