She raked her gaze over the queen.
Facing each other, they looked like two sides of a warped mirror. They were the same age, and nearly the same height, and ever since Nadiya had hacked away the heavy mane she’d brought to court, their hair fell in the same way, skimming their shoulders. Their coloring was where they differed—the queen’s skin was olive where Lila’s was pale, her hair jet black where Lila’s was dark brown, her eyes the same shade where Lila’s were not, and her body curved in ways Lila’s never had, filling her dress while Lila’s shirt ran uninterrupted from her shoulders to her waist.
But it wasn’t the ways they were different that bothered her.
It was the ways they were alike.
It was the way Nadiya looked at her, as if she were a prize. It was a look Lila herself had leveled at plenty of things. Things she had stolen, or killed for.
Now the queen’s hungry eyes slid past her. To the gallery, and Ren, who was now holding the little white shape aloft, so Lila could see what it was: an egg.
“She took it from the kitchen months ago,” mused Nadiya. “Rescued from a skillet. She’s convinced if she is kind enough, the egg will hatch. I cannot seem to convince Ren there is nothing there to rescue.” She inclined her head. “Children can be marvelous.”
“You could just crack it open,” offered Lila. “I’m surprised it hasn’t spoiled.”
“Oh, it would have,” said the queen. “But once a week, I trade it for a new one while she’s sleeping.” A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “What harm is there, in hoping?”
“And when the hope runs out?”
“She’s four. I think it can last a little longer.”
Ren laughed, and the queen and Lila both turned toward the sound. Kell was now holding the egg to the light, and tracing a shape along its shell.
“He is a good uncle,” said the queen. “He’ll be a good father.” Lila snorted. Nadiya frowned. “Haven’t you ever wanted a child?”
The question had a strange effect, like a corset cinched around her ribs, but the answer was easy, automatic. “No.”
She half expected Nadiya to tut, to say that one day she would, but the queen only nodded thoughtfully, and said, “I always wanted one. I don’t know why. It wasn’t ego. Some women just want to see their own reflection. I wanted to know what it felt like. To make another person. And then, when she was here, I wanted to see what she would do. Who she would be. Every day, she is different. Every day, she is new.”
“You talk of her like she’s an experiment.”
“I suppose she is,” said Nadiya, though there was a dreamy quality to her voice when she said it. “A grand experiment.” She tore her attention away from her daughter. “I know you don’t like me.”
Lila cocked a brow. “I don’t like most people, Your Majesty. You, I don’t trust.”
“Why is that?”
“It might have something to do with you expressing a desire to dissect me over dinner.”
“I did say, after you were dead.”
A servant appeared, a pot of tea and two cups balanced on a gilded tray.
The queen poured, and handed one to Lila, and tempted as she was by the rich, dark liquid, the curls of steam, Delilah Bard still wasn’t about to drink anything offered by the queen. Oh, she took the cup, and turned it in her hand as if studying the pattern stamped into the porcelain’s side. Then, as she held Nadiya’s eye, Lila exerted her will, and the steam vanished, giving way to frost that cracked across the surface as the contents froze.
The queen’s mouth twitched. “What a waste,” she mused, lifting her own tea to her lips. “I’m not your enemy, Lila.” Her gaze returned to Ren, and Kell. “Everything I do, I do for my family. For their future. For our world. If you would only help me, let me study your magic while—”
“No.”
“I know it’s not ideal. But there aren’t exactly a wealth of Antari subjects, and I’m not about to risk Rhy’s safety by testing Kell. Especially not in his diminished state.”
“Your Majesty,” said Lila through gritted teeth, “I mean this with the most respect.” She turned to face Nadiya and said, “Go fuck yourself.”
The queen pursed her lips. “You are an extraordinary person, Delilah Bard. I’m surprised you are not more … progressive. Your magic holds the keys to countless doors. And yet, you choose to hoard it.”