Chapter 10 Lady Freya
"Ash is not a creature," I said. "He is a Hel-Drake of the Obsidian Lineage, First Clutch of the Shadow Brood, and he goes where I go. Don't you, sweetling?"
Ash rumbled. A tiny puff of smoke escaped his nostrils and drifted across the table toward Elowyn's face.
She coughed. Waved it away. Her smile turned brittle.
"Charming," she said. "Truly."
"Dinner is served," Cardan announced, a little too loudly.
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The first course was a soup of some kind. Pale gold, flecked with herbs, served in bowls so thin I could see the candlelight through the porcelain. It smelled pleasant. I didn't touch it.
"Not to your liking, Princess?" Elowyn asked, watching me over her own spoon. "I do hope the Aurelian cuisine isn't too... foreign for your palate. I hear witch-bread and fungus meat is a particular favourite in Hel."
"Not at all. I'm simply not hungry."
"You've been sleeping for three days. Surely you've worked up an appetite."
"I find the surface world very exhausting. All this sunlight. All this... gold." I gestured vaguely at the walls. "It's very stimulating. I needed enough time to recover."
Elowyn's eyes narrowed. "I sent messengers. Several of them."
"Did you? I must not have heard them. The shadows in my quarters are very thick." I smiled. "They muffle sound. And unwanted visitors."
"I am not an unwanted visitor. I am the sister of the High King and Princess of this court."
"And I am the Princess of Hel. I sleep when I wish. I emerge when I wish. I do not answer to you."
The table had gone very quiet. Cressida was watching with the expression of a woman who had just found a front-row seat to a gladiatorial match. Adrian was hiding a grin behind his wine glass.
Elowyn's knuckles were white around her spoon. "I was merely trying to welcome you to our court. To offer my assistance as you... acclimate."
"How generous of you." I took a sip of water. "I'm sure you're very busy, though. Running a palace is such demanding work. I wouldn't want to impose."
"It is no imposition. In fact, I've already taken the liberty of beginning the wedding preparations."
I set down my glass. "The what?"
"The wedding preparations." Elowyn's smile sharpened. "As the reigning princess of the Aurelian Court, it falls to me to plan the ceremony. I'm sure you understand. You wouldn't want to make any... cultural missteps. Given your unfamiliarity with our traditions."
She said unfamiliarity the way someone else might say barbarism.
"How thoughtful," I said. "And when, exactly, were you planning to consult me on this? Or was I meant to simply show up at the altar and be surprised?"
"It's traditional for the bride's family to handle the arrangements. But given that your family is... not here..."
"Not here," I repeated. "You mean in Hel. The realm you've been insulting since the moment I arrived."
"I don't believe I've insulted..."
"You've insulted my home three times in the past ten minutes. I've been counting."
Elowyn's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
From further down the table, Darian let out a low whistle. "She's got you there, cousin."
"Stay out of this, Adrian," Elowyn snapped.
"I'm just saying. Three times is a lot. Even for you."
I turned my attention to Adrian. He was watching me with undisguised delight, his chin propped on his hand.
"Thank you, Lord Adrian. It's nice to know someone at this table can count."
"Call me Adrian. Everyone does." He raised his wine glass in a mock toast. "I should warn you, I'm the family disappointment. Terrible influence. Gambling, drinking, inappropriate jokes at funerals. My mother despairs."
"Your mother despairs because you once set the west wing on fire," Elowyn said.
"It was a very small fire. And the drapes were ugly."
"Those drapes were three hundred years old."
"Then they had a good run."
I found myself fighting a smile. Adrian, winked at me across the table. It was the first genuine gesture anyone in this court had made toward me.
"Lord Adrian," I said. "I think you and I are going to get along."
"Oh, I hope so. Cardan needs more people at this table who aren't boring."
Cardan, who had been silent through most of this exchange, shot his cousin a warning look. "Adrian."
"What? I'm being welcoming. Unlike some people." He glanced meaningfully at Elowyn. "I'm excellent at welcoming. It's my best quality."
"Your only quality," Cardan muttered.
"And yet what a quality it is."
\---
The main course arrived. Roasted fowl of some kind, glazed in honey and arranged on a bed of golden rice. I picked at it without enthusiasm.
The conversation drifted. Trade agreements. Border disputes. A play that had recently debuted at the Royal Theater. I listened without contributing, filing away information like a magpie collecting shiny objects. The lords who spoke too loudly. The ladies who whispered behind their fans. The way certain courtiers glanced at Cardan and then quickly away, as if they were afraid of being caught looking.
And then there was the woman in the crimson gown.
She had not spoken all evening. She had not needed to. Her presence was enough, the way she held her wine glass, the way she tilted her head when Cardan spoke, the way her fingers traced the stem of the glass in slow, deliberate circles.
I recognized that gesture. It was proprietary. Intimate.
It was the gesture of a woman who knew exactly how a man liked to be touched.
My stomach tightened.
"Princess Nyx." Elowyn's voice cut through my thoughts. "I don't believe you've met Lady Freya."
The woman in crimson looked up. Her eyes were dark and deep and utterly unreadable.
"Princess," she said. Her voice was low, smooth, like honey poured over glass. "What an honor."
"The honor is mine," I said automatically. "Lady Freya. What is your role at court?"
Freya smiled. It was a beautiful smile. It was also the smile of someone who knew something I didn't.
"I am from House Magus. I serve as a cultural advisor to His Majesty," she said. "Among other things."
Among other things. Interesting indeed. An unmarried high born noble lady serving under the King.
That wasn't a coincidence.
I turned to Cardan. He was staring fixedly at his plate, his jaw tight. That little muscle beneath his left eye was twitching again.
"Cultural advisor," I repeated. "How interesting. And how long have you served in this role, Lady Freya?"
"Six years." She met my eyes without flinching. "I was appointed by the late King. His Majesty has kept me on in the same capacity."
"Has he."
It was not a question.
The table had gone quiet again. Adrian was watching me with something that looked like sympathy. Elowyn was watching me with something that looked like triumph.
Cardan still had not looked up from his plate.
"I see," I said. And I did. I saw everything.