“I suppose everyone has already talked about how wonderful the display was last night,” Zoe said, helping herself to a generous slice of bread and spreading it with honey. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
“Yes, Kayle says sometimes he thinks he could make a fortune from festival exhibitions if he’d give them as much attention as he gives his cars,” Mirti said, her dry voice amused. “I can imagine many a rich family willing to pay for such a display at a wedding, for instance.”
“Weren’t the Soechins funny last night?” Alys said with a trilling laugh. “I think Qeesia was actually afraid that something would catch on fire and the whole palace would burn down.” She glanced at Zoe and instantly looked stricken. “Oh—I forgot—you weren’t in the boat with the rest of us. Sorry.”
It was such a halfhearted dig that no one bothered to respond. Zoe took a big bite of her bread and served herself a healthy portion of an egg-and-cheese dish. “No, I went out in one of the smaller boats,” she said. “At first I thought I would regret it, because the motion of the water upset my stomach, but then I was fine.”
Her eyes still closed, Romelle spoke up. “I hope you don’t get sick with whatever’s been bothering me.”
“We all hope we don’t catch that,” Seterre said.
“I don’t think I will,” Zoe said brightly. “I feel fine this morning.” She consumed the eggs with relish. “But I wondered if all of you would do me a favor.”
Mirti was watching her with narrowed eyes; this early-morning buoyancy was not in Zoe’s usual style. Elidon appeared to be on the edge of annoyance. “What kind of favor would that be?” the first wife asked, her voice far from encouraging.
Zoe had brought a small basket with her, and now she opened it to pull out the chocolate drops, still wrapped in their pretty confectioner’s bag. “Alys sent these to my room yesterday, which was so kind of her, because she knows that I love chocolate. But I had one and I just thought it tasted—a little off. Like it had been overcooked or undercooked or something. I hate to throw the whole bag away, because I really do love these chocolates, but I won’t keep them if there’s something wrong.”
She picked up an empty bowl and poured about a dozen candies into it. They made a small, cheery clinking against the porcelain. Smiling, Zoe held it out in a general invitation. “Anybody?”
Nobody moved. Everyone was staring at Zoe, even Romelle, who had opened her eyes without lifting her chin from her hands.
“Both of my servants were quite sick last night,” Zoe went on in a chatty voice, keeping her arm extended. “Vomiting all over the place—! Take my word for it, the smell was overpowering. Of course, I’m sure they wouldn’t have eaten my candy without my permission, so it must have been something else that made them sick.”
Now the silence in the room was thick, heavy, exerting an actual pressure on everyone around the table. Mirti’s mouth had pressed into a grim line, and she was still staring at Zoe, but everyone else had shifted their attention to the redheaded queen.
“Alys?” Zoe said, offering the bowl and shaking it just enough to make the contents rattle. “Would you like to try one? Tell me what you think?”
Alys tossed her hair over one shoulder, clearly deciding to brazen it out. “No, thank you,” she said. “Breakfast isn’t the time for chocolate.”
Zoe put the dish down, widening her eyes as if a thought had just occurred to her. “I don’t suppose—Romelle, did Alys give you chocolates, too? Is that why you’re sick? Could there have been a whole batch of them that were bad?”
Romelle had finally lifted her head and pulled herself upright, striving for a look of dignity. “Not chocolates,” she said. “Alys gave me some glazed fruit the other day, but—but—she ate some, too, and she seems to be fine.”
“This is ridiculous!” Alys exclaimed, allowing anger and indignation to roughen her voice and flush her cheeks. “What are you implying, Zoe Lalindar? What terrible things are you saying about me?”
Zoe dropped her cheery manner; her voice became quiet, intense. “I’m saying that I think that you don’t like me. You want to discredit me, make me look foolish, keep me from the responsibilities I am expected to carry out while I am a guest under your husband’s roof.”
“I don’t know why you think—”
“I’m saying,” Zoe went on, raising her voice to drown Alys’s out, “that someone came to my rooms three days ago and destroyed every piece of clothing I own, hoping to keep me from attending the banquet to honor our Soechin visitors.”
“Well, you can’t suppose—”
“And that was petty and pointless, but then yesterday someone brought doctored candy to my room, hoping to make me sick.” She gestured at Romelle. “And someone could very easily have poisoned Romelle using the same method.”
“Zoe,” said Elidon in a warning voice. “These are serious accusations, and you don’t have any proof. Calm down. Think things over.”
Instead, Zoe stood up. She could feel rage running through her veins like a spring flood down a canyon, too wild to pen up. “I have a little proof,” she said. “I know that Alys brought the candy to my room. I know that my servants grew sick on it. I know it was intended for me. Therefore, I think I can be forgiven for assuming that Alys wishes me ill.”
“I will talk to her,” Elidon said, earning a burning glare from Alys.
“Oh, I’ll talk to her,” Zoe said. “I’ll ask her questions. Why did you just try to make me sick? Why didn’t you try to murder me? It’s clear you won’t balk at killing if you want to get someone out of your way. Look at Princess Josetta. Someone paid off her escort so that the girl would go over the falls. Am I wrong in thinking that was you?”
Crystal shattered to the floor as Alys leapt to her feet. “You miserable bitch!” she cried. “How dare you say such a thing about me? I didn’t try to hurt Josetta—I wouldn’t try to kill anyone! How could you—”
“Shut up,” Zoe said fiercely. She heard chairs scrape back, dishes rattle, anxious voices lift all around them, but she had attention only for Alys. She raised her hand, palm upward, half-cupped as if to catch rain-drops. “I don’t care if you admit it,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t care if you destroy anyone else in the palace—or the city—or the kingdom. But don’t you ever. Don’t you ever try to harm me, or anyone close to me, again. And don’t try to harm the princess—any of the princesses. Do your scheming, I don’t care. But not against me. Or I will hurt you.”
She clenched her fingers into a fist and Alys gasped in real pain, shuddering unsteadily on her feet. From the corners of her eyes, Zoe could see the other women staring in stupefaction, their gazes swinging between Zoe and the queen. But Zoe kept her eyes on Alys.
Whose face began to redden, as if with a blush, and then with a sunburn, and then with a bruise. “Zoe,” Alys whispered, lurching forward a pace. Under her smooth cheeks pooled a slowly spreading stain of purple; dark half-moons gradually became visible beneath her eyes.
“Stop it!” Elidon shouted. “Zoe, stop what you’re doing! Release her!”
She didn’t want to obey. She wanted to call up a lesion on Alys’s face, open the skin so that the blood drained out, running down her cheeks like tears. She wanted to draw all the blood to Alys’s head, leaving her knees weak and her feet unreliable. She wanted to make the queen stagger and fall, from dizziness or from fear.
But she didn’t. She took a deep breath and splayed her fingers. Instantly she felt the abrupt cessation of pressure, the snapping of the invisible conduit that had sucked Alys’s blood up through her body as it yearned toward Zoe. Alys gasped for air and collapsed gracelessly into her chair.
“An excellent decision,” a voice murmured in Zoe’s ear. Suddenly she was aware of a presence at her side, a pressure on her own arm—Mirti Serlast, her fingers laced around Zoe’s wrist. Mirti’s gray eyes burned into hers. “What you can do to Alys, I can do to you, or something very like it. You can call blood, but I c
an shatter bone. And I will do it if you ever try such a trick again.”
For a moment Zoe stared back at her, her mind somewhere between rebellion and rage. She could hear Elidon and Seterre fussing over Alys, shushing her, assuring her she would be just fine, her face showed only the slightest bruising. She was only just beginning to realize how much power she truly had in her hands. How much power Mirti had. Any prime.
Then she jerked free of Mirti’s hold and shot back, “Then she can’t do all the dreadful things she does.”
“We will see to it that she doesn’t,” Mirti said.
It was clearly a dismissal from the room—possibly from the palace. Zoe gave one quick nod, paused to glance at the scene of chaos around the breakfast table, then stalked toward the door without another word. She slammed the door behind her.
Romelle caught up with her before Zoe had taken three steps. The fourth wife looked horrified, excited, worried, and sick, all at the same time. Zoe was surprised she’d been able to overcome nausea long enough to go chasing down the hall. “Thank you for speaking up in such a way,” Romelle said. “I have often wondered if Alys would try to harm me or Natalie. Sometimes I’ve thought—but there was never any proof—and the things were always so subtle—”
“She’s a greedy, wretched, selfish, ambitious—woman,” Zoe said, ending lamely on the last word because she couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call Alys. “I don’t think you can ever be too careful where she’s concerned. Watch her. And watch out for Natalie.”
“I will,” Romelle promised. “And you—watch out for yourself.”
There was no doubt that was a goodbye. Obviously Romelle believed Zoe couldn’t stay at the palace after today’s display. Zoe nodded. “I certainly will.”
She turned to go, but Romelle surprised her again by putting a hand on Zoe’s shoulder to hold her in place. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” Romelle said. “I’ll miss seeing you every day.”
Zoe only nodded again, dumbstruck by one more revelation coursing merrily through the queen’s blood. Romelle smiled, dropped her hand, and slipped back into Elidon’s suite, where the rising sound of feminine voices portended one tempestuous argument.
Zoe closed her eyes and leaned briefly against the wall. She didn’t sense poison in Romelle’s veins, oh no, but there was definitely an interloper aboard. There was an alien presence, a tiny entity feeding on the queen’s blood and struggling to manufacture its own. Romelle was pregnant.
Feeling buffeted by so much knowledge and so much rage, Zoe made her way carefully down the halls, up the broad staircase, and into her suites. Calvin and Annova were sitting together companionably over their own breakfast, though from the array of bland foodstuffs laid out, they were eating gingerly after the previous night’s discomforts.
“You’re back early,” Calvin said.
Annova was already on her feet. “What’s wrong?”
“I hope you feel well enough to help me pack,” Zoe said. “Good thing I haven’t accumulated too many new clothes.”
“You’re leaving again?” Annova asked.
“We’re leaving. All of us. This time for good.”
The manager of the expensive hotel was happy to provide a suite for Zoe Lalindar this time, to accommodate her servants as well as the prime. She toyed with asking him to deny access to anyone who might come looking for her, but she knew it was pointless. One of Darien’s spies had probably followed her down into the city; if she truly wanted to hide, she would have to be far more clever than she had been so far.
Calvin liked the new quarters, but Annova was restless. “This isn’t a place for staying,” she said. “You need someplace you can feel more settled.”
“A coru woman never feels settled,” Zoe said.
Calvin shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to go back to the river,” he said.
“You can’t abandon me now!” Zoe exclaimed.
“I mean, all of us,” he said. “You, too. It’s only a few ninedays until Quinncoru. A fine time to be living on the flats.”
Annova spared him one scandalized look. “The Lalindar prime does not live down on the river!”
Zoe sighed and flopped into a chair. “Oh, this Lalindar prime remembers those days on the river as some of the happiest in her life,” she said with a sigh. “But, no, I don’t suppose I can try for such a refuge again.” She sighed a second time. “Anyway, that’s the first place Darien Serlast would come looking for me if I disappeared.”
Annova bent her gaze to Zoe. “Is Darien Serlast likely to come looking for you soon, since you left the palace so abruptly?”
Zoe nodded. “I think he’s afraid I will cause some kind of trouble if I’m not under his watchful eye.”
Calvin cackled. “Seems like he’s right about that.”
“Then you ought to have something nice to wear when he arrives,” Annova said. “Let’s go to the Plaza of Women. We still have a lot of shopping to do.”
Zoe found it more enjoyable to buy clothes when she didn’t have to think about trying to impress four queens and a foreign delegation. The excursion made her so cheerful that she sent Annova back to the hotel with the packages while she made a detour by Sarone’s house to see if there was any fresh gossip.
“Zoe!” Keeli squealed when she was ushered inside. “What have you done now?”
Before Zoe could answer, Sarone hurried into the room, arms out-flung. “Zoe! What is happening up at the palace?”
“What do you know already?”
“Nothing! Josetta came looking for you, very upset, and we had to tell her we had no idea where you were.”
“I’ll send her a note,” Zoe said.
“But Zoe, what happened?” Keeli demanded. “Josetta said you just left? Moved out of your rooms?”
“No other news has filtered down the mountain?” she asked. Impressive if Elidon had managed to keep the details of the altercation a secret—but then, she would have plenty of motivation to do so. Accusations of murder and threats of retaliation put everyone in a bad light.
And raised hard questions.
And made everyone afraid.
“Josetta said you had an argument with Alys,” Sarone said. “But no one knew what it was about.”
“What happened?” Keeli begged.
How much to tell? Zoe was not secretive by nature, but this was pretty incendiary material. She settled on the portion of the story she was certain was true. “I think Alys sent tainted candy to my room—just enough to make me sick,” Zoe said. “I didn’t eat any, but both my servants did, and they were throwing up all night. I was so angry! I brought the candy in and told everyone what she’d done, and then I accused her of tearing up my wardrobe as well.”
“Did she admit it?” Keeli asked.
“No—and I don’t know if anyone else believed me. But I was furious. I—well—I should probably be ashamed of this. I caused her blood to rise to her face and bruise her skin.”
Keeli and Sarone both stared at her mutely. When the silence had gone on for a while, Zoe added in a faint voice, “I was hoping that was something Christara had done a time or two, but by the expressions on your faces, I suppose not.”
“I think my mother could do it, but she never did,” Sarone said quietly. “She was very aware of the fact that she commanded power, and she didn’t want to abuse it.”
“Mirti said something of the sort,” Zoe replied.
“Mirti was there?”
Zoe nodded and didn’t give specifics. “So, I think it’s possible I’ve behaved unforgivably,” she said. “Maybe I’ll be exiled again—this time for my own crimes, not my father’s.”
Sarone looked even more apprehensive. “How badly did you hurt the queen?”
“Not as badly as I wanted to.” Not as badly as I could have, she thought. “But her face will probably show bruises for a couple of days. Elidon was very angry with me, and rightfully so, I suppose. I’m sure she’ll tell the king, and perhaps he’ll forbid me
to return to the palace.”
“Or Darien Serlast will,” Sarone said quietly, “since he sometimes makes decisions for the king.”
Zoe thought about that kiss in the boat under the painted sky. Could that have been only last night? It seemed like it had happened a year ago, or not at all. As if Zoe had dreamed it, or wished for it so hard that imagination had supplied her with all the details of sound and sight and touch.
“He likes you, I think,” Keeli said. “Doesn’t he? Maybe he’ll tell Vernon your behavior was justified.”
“Maybe,” said Zoe. Or maybe he would cast her out altogether. What was a kiss, after all? “I can’t guess what to expect next.”
“Well, one thing that won’t happen, even if you’re banished,” Sarone said briskly. “We won’t lose track of you again. Promise me, Zoe. Even if you disappear, you will not disappear from us.”
Zoe put her hand out, palm raised, and Sarone flattened her own hand against it. For a moment, she felt it again, the reassurance of blood to blood, the markers of family, of belonging. “Promise,” Zoe said. “I am used to leaving things behind. But you will not be one of them.”
She didn’t want to go back to the hotel—either because she didn’t want to face Darien Serlast or she didn’t want to learn he had not come looking for her. Zoe couldn’t decide. So instead, upon leaving Sarone’s house, she simply wandered, tracing a meandering path through the wealthy neighborhoods where she had lived as a child. As Calvin had noted, it was nearly Quinncoru; soon the world would remake itself. The thin, naked shrubberies would dress themselves in greenery and blossoms. Nervous, impatient birds would peck at the dirt, hoping to surprise unwary beetles lumbering between stalks of early grass. Even today, despite the chilly air, the sunshine was extravagant, the breeze gentle. It was no hardship to walk another block, another mile.
She found herself, not planning it, in front of the house her parents had owned, the place where Darien’s mother and sisters now lived. A few ninedays ago, Zoe might have been able to convince the king that the property should be hers again, but she doubted Vernon would believe such courtesies were owed to her now. She could probably afford to buy it outright, however. If she wanted it.