The queen stood across from her, appraising, and Tes knew that she should do something to show her deference, but the truth was, in that moment, she wasn’t feeling very deferential. And she was hungry.
At the thought of food, her stomach growled again, and the queen turned to the two soldiers who’d escorted Tes.
“I was so lost in work,” she said, “I forgot to eat. Please go and fetch me something.”
Only one of the soldiers turned to go. She nodded at the other. “Go with him.”
“Mas res,” said the soldier, “surely I should stay and guard the prisoner.”
The queen looked at Tes, bedraggled, manacled, stained with blood though she was no longer bleeding.
“Somehow,” she said, “I think we’ll manage.”
Tes should have felt insulted. She would have, but the queen had not said I, but we, as if they were conspiring.
When the soldier still hesitated, the queen straightened, her eyes going sharp.
“Don’t mistake my tone,” she said. “It wasn’t a request.”
At that, the soldier bowed deeper, and withdrew.
The queen waited until they were alone, then lifted the dead owl to the light, and studied it as if it were a precious jewel.
“Few people in this world would appreciate how elegant this magic is,” she said. “Fewer still could create it.” She held Vares out, but when Tes reached out her shackled hands, the queen pulled back. “Tell me, what is your name?”
When Tes hesitated, the queen laughed. “Is it so hard to give?”
“It is,” said Tes, “when you don’t have many things to call your own.”
The queen considered. She offered the owl again, and this time let her take it. “There. Now you have more.”
She returned Vares to her coat. Then said, “It’s Tes, Your Majesty.”
The soldier reappeared, carrying a tray. The queen pointed to a metal table, one of the few with space, and the soldier deposited his burden. This time, there was no protest. He melted away, leaving them alone again.
The queen gestured to a stool. “Sit,” she said. And then, softening the command, “Please.”
Tes did, sinking gratefully onto the perch. She watched as the queen lifted a frosted glass cover to reveal an array of sliced meat, a fine cheese, and wafer-thin pieces of toast, along with two cups and a steaming pot of tea. Tes’s mouth began to water, but when the queen said, “Help yourself,” Tes shook her head and laced her fingers to keep from reaching for the food. The manacles clinked in her lap.
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” she said. “I am running short on trust today.”
The queen surprised her with a smile. “I hardly blame you.” She considered the spread, and began assembling a small sandwich.
“Ever since the Hand,” she said, cutting it in two, “I have worried about poison.” She took a bite of one half, and chewed thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s just their name, but I swear I dream of fingers reaching for me in the dark.” She set the food down. “Half the spells I devise these days are to keep my family safe.”
As she said this, she touched a pendant at her neck, but when her hand dropped, Tes saw it was actually a gold ring, and a spelled one at that, though the spellwork was so small and delicate, she would have had to hold it to her eye to see the pattern.
The queen poured the tea—it was black, and blissfully strong, Tes could tell by the scent when she brought it to her nose. Still, she waited for the queen to take a drink first.
“Rest assured, I have no desire to poison or drug you, or do anything to dull your senses.” She took a sip from her own cup, then offered it to Tes. “I want them sharp.”
Tes took it and drank, her head filling with spice and heady warmth. She sighed, feeling more herself than she had in days. She reached for the other half of the sandwich, cuffs dragging on the metal table. The first bite was relief. The second, pleasure. The third, and she felt tears threaten to spill down her cheeks.
As she ate, her attention drifted again, dancing over the many workshop surfaces, the room bright with so much magic. Tes couldn’t help but marvel at it all, her fingers itching to reach the magic in the threads.
On one, a mirror faced a scrying board. On another, a spell was drawn in what looked like iron filings. Against one wall a column of water ran in a constant cycle, though no magician held it up. There were other things too, their purpose hidden from her. She longed to take them up, take them apart.
She had heard stories about the queen of Arnes. No one could decide if she was a prisoner or a recluse, a brilliant mind or raving mad. Truth be told, Tes had never taken much interest in royal gossip. What she did know was that before the queen became a Maresh, she was a Loreni. And the Loreni were known for their inventions.