Chapter One

ADALE

 

Generally speaking, Ieflarian hair wasn’t very good at holding a curl. But that wasn’t stopping the ladies of Birsgen from trying. And it was not just the nobles or merchants. In the last month alone, at least three different servant girls had cut off their long braids and attempted to sear their hair into careful ringlets, the sort Princess Esofi wore.

Crown Princess Adale regarded the trend with a mixture of derision and pride. She had thought it would die down after the wedding, but now the alchemists were even selling some sort of potion that would turn dark Ieflarian hair blonde. Lady Brigit had nearly killed herself with one just a week ago, thinking she was meant to drink it instead of pouring it onto her hair.

Esofi, for her part, wasn’t reacting to her many imitators. These days, she spent most of her time seeing to the construction of the university or caring for Carinth, the baby dragon that she had been given to raise a year and a half ago.

Carinth had done a great deal of growing since then. He stood just below Adale’s knee when he was on all fours. If he balanced on his hind legs and stretched his neck out, he could almost reach her waist. His wings, when unfurled, were twice as wide as the length of his body, though he had made no real attempts to fly yet. Despite his length, he was rather thin, and not nearly as heavy as one might expect. Adale and Esofi supposed that this was because he would some day be able to fly.

He knew his own name and the meaning of “no,” though he sometimes liked to pretend that he did not. He ate meat, raw or cooked, as well as sweets and pastries from the kitchens. He refused all vegetables and most fruits but would also go after moths, crickets, and frogs if they caught his eye. He had his own room, fully furnished (though Adale wasn’t sure what he was meant to do with a writing desk) but preferred to sleep on a single blanket near the fireplace. Adale had learned to shake her boots out before putting them on every morning, because there was a good chance one of them would contain a silver fork or a jeweled necklace.

Adale’s primary fear had been that the Ieflarian people would reject Carinth. After all, he was a member of the species that, until very recently, made it their goal to rid the world of Men. But she had not seen anyone react badly to him. In fact, he seemed to be quite popular. He was not at all afraid to accompany the royal huntsman on his rides, or help the maids with their washing, or join Knight-Commanders Glace and Livius in their morning meditation in the chapel. When he went missing, he was usually found hovering around the feet of the kitchen staff, waiting for something good to fall from the tables above.

The only real problem was that most people regarded Carinth as a very interesting dog, rather than an intelligent creature that would someday be able to speak.

Adale and Esofi’s wedding had been eight months ago, in early spring, so early that traces of snow melted in weak sunlight and acolytes from the Temple of Eyvindr were hired to make the flowers bloom. All her life, Adale had always assumed that marrying would mean a loss of her own identity, somehow. She wasn’t sure where or how she’d developed this notion, but she’d been expecting marriage to transform her into someone she did not recognize. And some things were different now, certainly. She was living with Esofi in the rooms traditionally reserved for the heir and their spouse, rooms she’d spent her entire life thinking would someday be Albion’s. Alongside that, she was raising a baby dragon as her own son.

But at her core Adale was still herself.

Now it was autumn. The harvest was long past, and there was a chill in the air, though it was still a few months to midwinter and Esofi’s nineteenth birthday. That day, she found Esofi and Carinth out in the garden, sitting in a patch of weak sunlight. They were accompanied by Mireille, one of Esofi’s two remaining waiting ladies.

Esofi held a primer designed for very young children and was reading to Carinth in an authoritative voice. Carinth rested in her lap and gazed up at her with bright golden eyes. Esofi wore an Ieflarian dress today, for Carinth had a bad habit of pulling the jewels out of the bodices of Esofi’s beautiful Rhodian gowns, as well as shredding the petal-soft silk with his claws as he climbed up onto her shoulders in the same way that a cat might. Still, Adale could see the tiny pockmarks all over the fabric. They were the same marks that now marred Adale’s own dresses, and the clothing of many members of the castle staff.

Esofi smiled as Adale approached. Carinth lifted his head and ran over to greet her, standing up on his hind legs to check if she had anything interesting in her pockets.

“How are we?” asked Adale, rubbing her hand over the tiny nubs that would someday be curling horns on Carinth’s head.

“He swallowed a lizard,” sighed Esofi, setting the primer down. “That’s practically cannibalism. Sometimes I swear he only does it to hear me scream.”

Adale and Esofi had only a rough idea of what normal dragon development was like, informed by old, half-forgotten books kept by the Temple of Talcia. They knew it would be a while before Carinth learned to breathe fire, but they had no idea when to expect speech from him or if he was the correct size for his age. Their books had also said that he wouldn’t begin attempting to fly until he was about a year old, but his first birthday had passed, and he was still showing no real signs of trying, no matter how often Adale tossed him up into the air.

Esofi worried about this constantly, and she wasn’t reassured by Adale’s claim that Talcia, Goddess of Magic and creator of all dragonkind, would probably let them know if something was seriously wrong. Talcia was the one who had given Carinth to them in the first place, so Adale did not think such a thing was unreasonable to expect. Fortunately, Esofi also had the new university to distract herself. And Carinth was unquestionably happy.

“My parents have summoned us,” reported Adale. “Apparently there’s important news they want to discuss.”

Esofi stood and brushed off her skirts. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“I have no idea. They only said they wanted both of us there.”

Esofi nodded. “Mireille, can you take Carinth while I see to this?”

“Of course!” Mireille crouched down so he could easily climb on to her shoulders. “Oh, when did you get so heavy?” she asked, struggling to right herself. As she walked away, Adale heard her informing Carinth that she expected him to give her rides in return once he was large enough.

“You really don’t know what this is about, then?” asked Esofi, once they were out of Mireille’s hearing range.

“No, they wouldn’t say.”

“Did they seem angry?” Esofi looked a little worried, and Adale felt herself smile at the absurd notion that her parents might ever find fault with anything Esofi did.

“I don’t think so. Why? Have you done something scandalous lately?” teased Adale. “Something I ought to know about?”

Esofi smiled faintly. “No, nothing like that. I just hate to think I’ve disappointed them somehow.”

“I’d find that unsettling as well,” said Adale. “Disappointing my parents is my responsibility. I’d thank you not to steal it from me.”

Esofi’s weak smile turned into a soft laugh. Nevertheless, she said, “Must you always speak so harshly about yourself?”

“I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking.”

“That is not true.”

Adale would never believe that, but it warmed her to know that Esofi thought so highly of her. So many members of the court could not see Adale as anything other than the wild young woman she had been for the first eighteen years of her life. She expected they never would.

When Adale and Esofi arrived at King Dietrich’s study, they found both of Adale’s parents waiting for them, as well as both of the Order of the Sun’s resident knight-commanders: Commander Glace, who led the Ieflarian paladins, and the exiled Commander Livius who had done the same in Xytae until Emperor Ionnes expelled the entire Order several years ago. Standing just beside Knight-Commander Livius was another paladin, a young woman in chainmail that Adale did not recognize.

Paladins, with their rigid adherence to law and order, were never Adale’s favorite people, but they had been instrumental in helping defend Ieflaria from the dragon attacks before Esofi’s arrival. There had been no further attacks since the Emperor’s death, but everyone knew that could change at any moment, and so Adale was grateful for their continued presence.

“What has happened?” asked Esofi. Adale found herself equally taken aback by the size of the gathering.

“Today I have received a letter from Princess Ioanna of Xytae,” explained Livius. “It is…unexpected, to say the least.”

“Princess Ioanna?” Adale frowned. “Isn’t she…what, four years old?”

“Seven, actually,” said Livius. “She will be eight this coming winter.”

“What does she want?” asked Esofi.

“You may see for yourself.” Livius passed the letter over to her. Adale and Esofi both leaned in to read it. The handwriting was a little awkward but still legible.

Knight-Commander Livius,

I do not know if you remember me, but my name is Ioanna Isinthi. My father is Ionnes of Xytae. I have been wanting to write to you for a long time but did not know how to find you.

I will probably not become Empress for a very long time, but when it happens, I want to bring the Order of the Sun back to Xytae. I also want to end my father’s war with Masim. We do not have any right to their lands. But the Temple of Reygmadra is already telling my father that my sister would make a better Empress.

I think something bad is going to happen. If it does, I hope that the Order of the Sun will help me. I am not asking for a promise from you right now because I know it is too early for that. But I want the same things for Xytae that you do. We will be stronger together than we are alone.

I am sorry this letter is not longer, but I am in the middle of being rescued from a cult.

Respectfully,

Ioanna Enessa Isinthi

 

“What’s this about a cult?” asked Adale.

“Never mind that part,” said Livius. “That matter has been handled.”

“She is trying to secure a political alliance with the Order, then?” asked Esofi. “I have to admit…at her age, I would not expect such a thing.”

Adale was inclined to agree. At seven years old, her only concern had been stealing extra desserts from the kitchens. She wasn’t even sure if she’d been literate yet, let alone coherent enough to ask a stranger for help securing her place in the succession.

“The Xytan court is significantly more cutthroat than the court at Birsgen,” said Queen Saski. “I would be more surprised if she was not seeking allies. She may very well reach out to Ieflaria next.”

“I’m inclined to call this a ruse,” said Esofi. “Ionnes may be searching for an excuse to attack Ieflaria. If it looks like we are harboring paladins who would oppose his reign…”

“But Ioanna is his rightful heir,” pointed out Adale. “He should be happy to have paladins supporting her, even if he doesn’t care much for them personally.”

Knight-Commander Livius crossed his arms and glanced over at the lady paladin, who still had not uttered a word. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. “But then, perhaps not. The situation is…unique.”

“How so?” asked Dietrich.

“Your majesty,” said Livius, “you know it is not in my nature to gossip idly. But I met Princess Ioanna on several occasions before my exile. And it is my suspicion that, if she were examined by the Justices, she would be declared a truthsayer.”

“What?” demanded Adale’s parents in unison.

“You have never mentioned this before, Livius,” said Saski.

“I am not authorized to make a formal assessment of Ioanna’s blessing. And for a time, I doubted myself. But Dame Orsina—” He gestured to the young woman. “—has come to the same conclusion. She encountered Princess Ioanna several months ago and states that her blessing is what has alienated her from much of the Xytan court.”

Everyone turned to stare at the paladin. She clasped her hands behind her back and shifted uncomfortably.

“Is this true?” demanded Dietrich.

“Dame Orsina does not speak the Ieflarian language, Your Majesty. She has come to us from southern Vesolda,” explained Livius. “But I have no reason to doubt her word.”

“Will you respond to Ioanna’s letter?” asked Adale.

“I fear it may be dangerous to do so,” said Livius. “If it is intercepted, the consequences could be disastrous. Nevertheless, I expect this is not the last we will hear from Princess Ioanna. And I think everyone in this room has an interest in seeing her take the throne.”

“But that may not happen for decades,” said Adale.

“That is why you and Esofi are here today, Adale,” said Saski. “If a civil war breaks out in Xytae upon Ionnes’s death, you may be the ones to decide whether or not Ieflaria will support Ioanna.”

“We can’t take a risk like that,” said Esofi immediately. “Our army is no match for the Xytan legion. If Ioanna is deposed, her replacement will immediately seek to punish those who allied with her.”

Adale wasn’t surprised to hear this. Esofi usually erred on the side of caution, especially when it came to political machinations. Personally, though, she thought supporting Ioanna might be a risk worth taking if it meant having a reasonable ruler on the Xytan throne.

But Adale was much newer to meetings of politics and strategy, and she lived in constant fear of saying something foolish and discrediting herself. She decided that she’d raise the point with Esofi later, when they were alone. Esofi’s judgment would be much softer than her parents’.

But Ionnes was young and healthy. He might live for another fifty years. And in that case, Adale and Esofi would not need to decide on the matter until they were old women. The thought was a little cheering. Surely fifty years would be long enough for Adale to accumulate the wisdom to make the correct choice?

Or maybe Ionnes would be shot in the forehead by a Masimi bowman tomorrow and the choice would be her parents’. That would be even better.

“There is no need to make a decision today,” said Saski. “We only wish for you two to be aware of the situation as it unfolds. Do not discuss this matter with anyone except each other. We must be discreet until we know more.”

The meeting came to an end, and everyone was dismissed. Adale sighed in relief, knowing they’d been lucky today. Meetings such as this could go on for hours, if the situation was urgent or if people felt like bickering over details.

“Was Ioanna at our wedding?” asked Adale as she and Esofi began the walk back to their room. “I think I remember a girl around her age. Hovering around the cake.”

“No, none of the Isinthi family was in attendance. You are thinking of Princess Vitaliya of Vesolda. She was at our betrothal celebration as well. The one you missed.”

“I heard you left early anyway,” teased Adale.

“Only because I was so dreadfully bored.” Esofi pressed a fleeting kiss to Adale’s cheek. “Or something like that. I’m sure I had a good reason.”

Esofi wasn’t very demonstrative in public, but apparently this was typical of Rhodian people. She frequently hid her kisses behind fans or parasols, which Adale found adorable and silly in equal measure. She also jumped when someone grabbed her hands or hugged her too quickly, but the Ieflarians at Birsgen were learning not to do that.

Adale tried her best to respect Esofi’s preferences by letting her initiate contact when she was comfortable with it. She did not want Esofi to dread going out in public with her, nor did she want to embarrass her more than she already did.

Unfortunately, this had prompted well-meaning priestesses of Dayluue to start approaching Adale with questions. How was her relationship with Esofi? Were they happy? Were they communicating? Was there anything the temple could do to help?

Adale found herself repeatedly reassuring them that Esofi was just shy. But since several hundred people had watched Esofi fling herself into the mouth of a dragon, Adale’s words did not carry much weight.

Adale had learned to disappear whenever she caught sight of a red-violet robe, and not just because of that. Since she and Esofi were both women, it would be the Temple of Dayluue’s responsibility to aid them in the creation of heirs. Only Dayluue’s priestesses knew how to perform the Change.

The Change was a magical ritual most frequently used by those who had been born into bodies that did not align with their souls. It wasn’t uncommon for young people to try it out, even if they were content with their bodies. Most reverted to their original forms within a few hours. Some never did and had to pay for a second ritual to undo the first, if they were inclined.

The Change could also be used by couples like Adale and Esofi to conceive, though adoption was the most common way for two women to procure children in Ieflaria. The dragon attacks in past years had left many orphans, and part of Adale wished they could simply pick one of them. But she knew, when it came to royalty, people cared about lineage and blood.

To be fair, it was not just the priestesses who expected heirs from them. Everyone mentioned it at some point, from her parents’ advisors to various ambassadors to her own friends. Some days it felt like it was the only thing anyone wanted to talk about. Adale and Esofi were always having babies pushed into their arms, as though everyone was hoping they’d be so overcome with maternal love that they’d immediately set about to creating one of their own.

But Esofi was in absolutely no hurry to begin producing heirs, difficult as it was for everyone to believe. The assumption had been that one so obsessed with duty would want to start on it immediately, and Adale could not blame them for that. Nor could she really blame them for assuming Adale was the reason why it wasn’t happening. But the truth was, Esofi was far too busy to even consider such a thing.

Or at least, Adale thought that was the reason.

Some days she wasn’t sure.

Obligations aside, Adale felt that Carinth’s existence satisfied any desperate, urgent need for a child that might someday come upon her. But when she said as much, she could sense people’s haughty dismissal. Some had even outright stated that a dragon really wasn’t quite the same, now was it? The unspoken implication, that she did not love Carinth as much as she would love a child of her own species, offended her deeply.

When they arrived back at their room, Mireille and Carinth were there waiting for them, sitting on the floor and surrounded by a mess of toys. To Adale’s eyes, Mireille got more use out of them than Carinth did. There was still no sign of Lisette, Esofi’s other waiting lady, but Adale was used to that by now. Lisette came and went as she pleased.

Even after a year, Adale was not completely certain how she felt about Lisette, or how Lisette felt about her. On the surface, the woman seemed to have nothing but thinly veiled disdain for Adale, always looking at her as though she was a misbehaving child.

But Lisette had also been responsible for rescuing Adale from Albion’s old room when Brandt and Svana had locked her in there, hoping to keep Esofi from selecting her as a spouse a year and a half ago. If she’d really hated Adale, she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble. She would have let Esofi pick one of the twins and left it at that.

Adale’s only guess was that Lisette’s loyalty to Esofi was stronger than her dislike of Adale. Adale could not imagine what it must be like to have that sort of strength of character.

Adale crouched down to greet Carinth while Esofi went into the bedroom. He sniffed at her hands and bumped his forehead against hers, a habit he had picked up from the cat.

“He’s more interested in hunting the dolls than playing with them,” sighed Mireille, tossing one across the room to demonstrate. Carinth bounded after it and pounced, his claws digging into the soft fabric. He took it in his mouth and shook his head from side to side vigorously.

“I’m not sure if we should encourage that,” said Adale.

Mireille’s reply was cut off by the sound of Esofi screaming in pain. Adale leaped up and dashed into the bedroom, one hand to the short blade at her belt.

She found Esofi sitting on the floor, one leg held out in front of her. Blood poured from a long, narrow cut on the sole of her foot. A few inches away lay a silver dagger with a jeweled handle.

“Guards!” Adale screamed as blood began to pool across the carpet. “Esofi, what happened?”

“It was in my slipper,” Esofi whimpered.

“Carinth,” realized Adale. At the sound of his own name, Carinth chirped and went over to Esofi, sniffing at the floor. To Adale’s surprise, Esofi reached out and slapped him across the nose. Carinth squeaked and scampered away from her.

“Esofi!” cried Adale. She took a few steps toward the baby dragon, intending to pick him up and comfort him, but the doors opened and two guards burst in, their swords ready. Carinth slipped out from between Adale’s fingertips and darted past their boots, into the sitting room.

“We need a healer,” Adale told the guards. One turned and ran, while the other knelt to press a handkerchief to Esofi’s foot.

The healer, a white-robed acolyte of Adranus, arrived quickly. After the briefest inspection, he declared that the cut was clean and would be fixed easily. His hands glowed with white magic as he worked, the wounded flesh knitting back together without incident.

“There,” he said, once the injury was healed. “Now, if it reopens or shows any signs of infection, call for me immediately. But you should be fine as long as you do not exert yourself.”

“The carpet’s ruined,” sighed Esofi. But Adale found that she cared far less about that than she did Carinth. She went back out into the main sitting room to search for him but could not find him, even when she got down on her hands and knees to peer underneath the furniture. Then her eyes fell on the door that led to the outside hallway. It was not completely shut.

“I think Carinth ran off,” Adale called to Esofi.

“He won’t have gone far.” In the bedroom, Esofi was getting back to her feet with the healer’s help. She did not sound terribly concerned. Instead, she picked up the dagger and examined it. “Do you know who this might belong to?”

Adale did not, nor could she bring herself to care very much about it after what she had just witnessed. “I expect they’ll find us once they realize it’s gone missing,” said Adale. The residents of the castle had quickly learned that any missing valuables had a good chance of turning up in Adale and Esofi’s rooms. “I’m going after Carinth.”

When Esofi only nodded, Adale pressed her lips together and left the room.

Adale knew all of Carinth’s favorite places to hide and all of his favorite people. There was a good chance he’d be with her mother or Knight-Commander Livius. Or he might be in the castle’s chapel, which was filled with lots of shiny things to admire. She decided she’d check there first. She did not want to explain herself to anyone just yet.

Unfortunately, Adale was so distracted by her own thoughts that she did not notice the archpriestess of Dayluue until she was nearly on top of her.

Birsgen’s archpriestess of Dayluue was a middle-aged woman named Tofa, and Adale might have mistaken her for an ordinary priestess, if not for the fact that she knew her personally. Tofa wore the same red-violet robes the rest of the priestesses of her order did, with no special decoration or ornamentation to set her apart from the others. In lieu of any jewelry, she had a few daisies woven into her braids.

“Crown Princess!” cried the woman happily. “I was hoping I might run into you.”

“Oh,” said Adale, glancing around desperately for a distraction. “Uh, well, I…I’m in a bit of a hurry—”

“I’m here to see to Lady Catrin,” Archpriestess Tofa went on happily. “She’s due within the week. Perfectly healthy, nothing to worry about!”

“Oh,” said Adale. “Well…good. Good. That’s good.”

“None of my priestesses have reported seeing either of you come in for a Change.” Tofa moved forward even as Adale backed away. “We have all been expecting a visit from you for months now.”

“Well, Esofi and I just want to focus on raising Carinth until he gets a little more independent. We wouldn’t be able to give a baby the attention it needs right now.”

“Have you at least discussed which one of you wants to do the carrying?” pressed the archpriestess. “I’d recommend Princess Esofi, she has those wonderful—”

“I am going now, goodbye!” yelled Adale, taking off in a sprint. Thankfully, Tofa did not pursue her.

In truth, Adale was still not completely sure how she felt about having a baby. In the long run, she thought she might be equally happy with or without one. The idea did not fill her with the same sort of terror or dread that it had a year ago. But she had not lied when she’d told the archpriestess that she and Esofi were simply too busy to consider it right now.

For while Esofi kept herself busy with overseeing the university, Adale was spending more and more time shadowing her parents, watching them work and learning what would someday be expected of her, making up for years spent running wild with her friends. Adale had been a miserable student since girlhood. Her tutors had tried their best to educate the young princess, but she was restless and unfocused and hardly retained anything she was told. And it was not as though she was incapable of learning: she picked up riding and hunting and falconry with ease. The trouble was that if a subject did not immediately catch Adale’s interest, it might as well not exist.

But following her parents was different. With her tutors, there had only been laws and regulations and histories that felt as distant as the stars. Adale’s parents dealt with things that were real and far more compelling than any book or lecture.

Once Adale was certain that Tofa really wasn’t going to chase after her, she slowed back down to a walk. The Chapel of the Ten was not far, now. As its name suggested, the castle’s chapel was not dedicated to any one god or goddess, though it was most frequently used for sunrise services. When Adale pushed the heavy door open, it was still and silent within.

The sole occupant was a young woman sitting on one of the benches, facing the altar. And when Adale approached, she saw that Carinth had laid his head on her lap like a loyal dog.

“Carinth!” His golden eyes flicked to Adale, but he did not move his head. “Oh, we’re sulking, are we?”

The strange young woman laughed and gave Carinth a colorful boiled sweet of out her pocket. Carinth caught it on the end of his tongue and swallowed it whole.

“I’m sorry,” said Adale. “He thinks everyone in the world should love him.”

“And rightly so. He’s just adorable, isn’t he?” The woman rested her hand on his head. “You are very fortunate.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Have you just arrived?”

“Only today. My name is Elyne of Otradosa.”

“You’re from Vesolda?”

Elyne nodded. “I came with Dame Orsina. She was delivering a message…”

“Oh, yes. I met her earlier.” Adale noted that the other girl did not seem to be at all intimidated by her rank, which was uncommon for foreigners. Usually they were tense and awkward and bowed too often until they learned of Adale’s carefree nature. “Will you be in Ieflaria long?”

“I’m not sure. It was quite a journey. I’d hate to leave so soon. There’s so much to see.” She stood up. Carinth shifted his head away but remained on the bench, his head pressed to the wooden seat. “I should go. Orsina worries about me if I’m gone too long, and she doesn’t speak the language. I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

Once Elyne was gone, the heavy wooden doors of the chapel closing behind her, Adale sat down beside Carinth. His tail twitched, but he did not otherwise acknowledge her.

“You’re planning to sleep in here?” Adale asked. “Only it’s going to get cold after a while.”

Carinth gave her another sidelong glance.

“You’re mad Mera hit you. I was surprised too. I’ll talk to her. I’m sure she’s already sorry.” Though Esofi hadn’t really acted sorry. Nevertheless, Adale pressed on. “But you know not to leave things in shoes. You could hurt someone.”

Carinth shuffled closer without getting up, like a snake slithering along the ground. Adale laughed.

“I wish you could talk to me. I wish I knew how much you understand.”

Adale reminded herself that even if Carinth was an ordinary little boy, he wouldn’t be able to speak at his age. She wasn’t very good at guessing the ages of children, but she was certain that most one-year-old babies couldn’t say more than one or two words and only barely knew how to walk.

She thought, yet again, of Esofi’s hand reaching out to strike Carinth across the nose. Unease rose up in her chest. In that moment, Esofi had become someone that Adale did not recognize. It almost felt unreal. If someone told her she’d imagined the entire thing, Adale might believe them.

Esofi was soft. She was shy and gentle and covered her face with her hands when she giggled. She spent too long in the bath and always smelled faintly of flowers and…

And she’d hit Carinth in the face.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Adale said, more to the silence than to Carinth. He lifted his head and looked up at her. She rested a hand on his back, fingers playing with the strange leather of his folded wings. “But maybe nobody really does.”

They sat in silence for a little longer. Adale glanced up at the altar and at the various statues of the Ten placed around the room. She felt no compulsion to pray. She hadn’t in years.

The door creaked open, and Adale turned her head to see her own mother enter the chapel. She was alone, not accompanied by any guards or ladies, and so Adale knew she must be searching for her.

“What happened?” asked Saski. There was a distinct accusatory note in her voice.

“I didn’t do anything!” Adale objected, more than a bit offended that her mother always assumed she was the one in the wrong.

Saski sat down beside Adale. Carinth immediately climbed into her lap to examine her necklace, sniffing at the gemstones.

“What did you hear?” asked Adale, almost afraid to know the answer.

“I heard that Esofi was injured and a carpet was ruined,” Saski said unhelpfully. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? Are you two quarreling?”

“I don’t know,” said Adale. “I don’t think so? I think we just surprised each other. Carinth left a blade in Esofi’s slipper, and she cut her foot on it. Not badly, the healer took care of it. But she struck Carinth’s face when he went to her. I’ve never seen her do such a thing before.” Though, belatedly, Adale remembered that Esofi had done far worse to dragons in the past.

“Have you two discussed matters of discipline?” asked Saski.

“Not exactly?” said Adale. They had never really needed to before. Carinth was generally well behaved, or at least better behaved than anyone would expect from a young dragon. When he did something that warranted punishment, Esofi always declared what it would be—whether that was being confined to his room for a little while, or not being allowed desserts. Adale never found a reason to disagree with her judgment. “But I don’t want her hitting him. It…it doesn’t seem right.”

Saski looked thoughtful. “Has she spoken at all of her own upbringing?”

“Hardly ever.” And the little pieces Adale had picked up along the way were not exactly pleasant. “I don’t think she likes to.”

“The way we are raised influences the way we raise our own children. I think you should make it a priority to discuss this with her.”

“I should go to her now.” She hadn’t meant to leave Esofi alone. But in the moment, going after Carinth had felt more important. “Can you take him for me while I talk to her?”

Saski never really needed to be convinced to watch Carinth, and Adale knew he would be in good hands with her. Carinth was as spoiled as any grandson would be, but Saski did not let him run completely wild.

When Adale arrived back at their room, she found Esofi was still inside, sitting on a sofa and embroidering a handkerchief. Cream was sitting in her lap. He’d been a kitten when Adale gave him to Esofi as a courting gift. Now he was a fully grown cat and took up more than his share of space on the bed.

Adale had no patience or skill for embroidery, but Esofi claimed she found it soothing, even meditative. After long days, she could often be found with a bag of colored thread and a needle, building an enormous collection of linens.

Adale watched Esofi work and reflected on the fact that she had spent almost the entirety of her life believing that she would never marry, or if she did it would only be for her own amusement. Albion’s death and Esofi’s subsequent arrival had changed everything she had ever believed about herself and her future in a short amount of time.

Learning that Esofi expected her to be Albion’s replacement had been terrifying, at first. Adale hadn’t believed she was capable of being a good wife, or a good queen. But as they spent more time together, Adale’s opinion changed. Esofi’s presence brought something out in Adale that nobody had ever seen before, including Adale herself.

Esofi paused in her work to look up at Adale. “Where is Carinth?”

“He’s following Grandmother around,” said Adale. On its face, there was nothing abnormal about that. But she hoped that Esofi would comment on it, that she would realize that something was wrong and apologize.

But Esofi’s eyes returned to her embroidery, apparently untroubled.

“I was…I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?”

Adale swallowed, silently questioning if she ought to let the subject drop for the sake of keeping the peace between them. But if Esofi struck Carinth again, Adale might never forgive herself.

“You seemed…angry. At Carinth. But you have to know it was an accident.”

“Of course I do. Did you think I believed he did it maliciously?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I just thought you were very angry. Angrier than I’d have expected.”

“Well, it wasn’t your foot.”

“Maybe not,” Adale granted. “But you didn’t need to strike him.”

A concerned expression came over Esofi’s face. “I didn’t hurt him, did I?”

“No,” said Adale. “I don’t think so. But I don’t think you should have done it.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” Adale paused as she realized she didn’t have a coherent reason why she felt Esofi should not hit their adopted son. She hadn’t really counted on needing one. “It just seems wrong.”

“Do parents in Ieflaria not discipline their children?” Esofi sounded legitimately confused.

“You can discipline children without hitting them,” said Adale. “I don’t understand why you’d want to hit one.”

“It’s not about wanting to,” said Esofi. “It’s just what you do.”

“Maybe in Rhodia, but not here. Besides, we’re meant to be raising him to be at least somewhat civilized, aren’t we? If Talcia wanted him to be wild and violent, she’d have let him be raised by other dragons.”

“He’s not going to turn out wild and violent.”

“He does what we do. What if he decides to go around hitting people who upset him? He could kill someone without even meaning to, someday.”

Esofi’s frown deepened, and Adale’s heart sank. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“No,” said Adale. “I don’t. Esofi, he’s so little, how could you hit him?”

“If striking children is culturally unacceptable in Ieflaria, I will not do it again. There’s no need to make so much of it.”

The finality in Esofi’s voice was so decisive that Adale found herself dumbstruck. By the time she found her voice again, it was too late to say anything in reply. So Adale turned and went into the bedroom, her mind spinning.

She and Esofi had never really fought. They disagreed, certainly—their personalities were so different that it would have been silly to expect otherwise. But Adale had never stepped away from any of those disputes feeling so unsettled before.

Adale sat down on the bed. She wanted to go back out and confront Esofi, but maybe that would be a bad idea. Maybe that would only make things worse. She didn’t want Esofi to think she was attacking her. But she did not want to sit and stew in her own anger for the next few hours either.

Adale paused to examine her own feelings. She was angry, yes, but beneath that was concern—concern for Esofi, as well as Carinth. Esofi only rarely spoke of her life before coming to Ieflaria, and always in very general terms. Adale was curious, but she made a conscious effort not to pry. Rhodia, and Esofi’s childhood, were so far away that asking questions would accomplish nothing but satisfying Adale’s own curiosity. It hardly seemed worth it.

But maybe those questions did need to be asked.

Esofi had first set foot in Ieflaria less than two years ago. On their wedding day, they’d known each other for ten months. At its core, their marriage was a political alliance and the fact that they’d taken so well to each other was viewed as nothing more than a stroke of good luck in the eyes of the Ieflarian court.

Adale did not doubt her own love for Esofi, but there were still things she did not know about her. There was so much Esofi did not like to talk about. And while Adale certainly didn’t want to cause her pain by forcing her to recount the past, she could not help but feel she was missing some crucial element of who Esofi was. She wanted to love all of Esofi, not just the parts of her that she allowed the world to see.

And buried just beneath that was a faint but sharp terror that their relationship would sooner or later fall to pieces despite Adale’s best efforts. Adale’s past relationships—if they could even be called that—had never lasted for more than a few weeks. She never meant for them to last longer than that. Before Esofi, Adale had not believed she would ever want something as serious as a marriage.

Adale rested her hand over her heart, thinking of their wedding day. She vividly recalled the joy that had threatened to burn through her chest when Esofi smiled at her from the other side of the archpriestess of Pemele.

They’d initially hoped to marry at midsummer, only a few months after Esofi’s arrival in Ieflaria. But planning the wedding was a time-consuming process, and Esofi’s injuries from the battle with the dragons’ Emperor needed time to heal. So a date was set for autumn, giving everyone room to breathe.

But the wedding plans grew more elaborate as time went on, and both Adale and Esofi’s responsibilities increased with each passing month. They both devoted as much time as they could to Carinth. And while Adale shadowed her parents and listened to their advisors’ concerns that the dragon attacks would begin anew as revenge for the Emperor’s death, Esofi worked to accommodate all the newly blessed Ieflarians coming to Birsgen to train at a university that did not yet exist.

All of this meant that the wedding date had to be pushed back yet again, this time past Esofi’s birthday, past midwinter, and into the new year. Adale had been afraid that postponing the wedding twice would provoke rumors that Esofi was rethinking the engagement. But instead, everyone was eager to see just how ostentatious the wedding would be. She’d overheard people speculating about what food would be served, which dignitaries would come to attend the ceremony, and how many gold coins Adale’s parents would be passing out.

When the wedding day finally did arrive, it went without incident. Adale had not been allowed to drink, a rule handed down from her parents and enforced by everyone on staff. The ceremony had been an hour long, but the celebration afterward had lasted into the next day. Adale still believed that the entire event had been a little too extravagant, but Esofi had loved every minute of it, and so she would not have changed a thing.

Adale peered into the sitting room and saw that Esofi was in the process of packing away her embroidery bag. When she came into the bedroom, Adale went to the wardrobe and brought Esofi one of her nightgowns in a peace offering. Esofi accepted it without a word.

“Are you all right?” Adale asked.

The tension was so heavy that Adale almost regretted asking the question. It would have been so easy to say nothing, to fall asleep and then wake up tomorrow smiling as though nothing happened. But she did not want a fake peace. She wanted Esofi to be genuinely happy again.

Esofi pulled the nightgown over her head. “I’m fine,” she said, somewhat muffled through the fabric, as though it was a shield she held between them and not just cotton and lace. She pulled the collar down and her head reemerged. Adale did not move.

“Are you angry at me?” asked Esofi.

“No,” said Adale. “I’m just worried.”

Esofi’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.

“In Rhodia—” began Adale.

“We’re not talking about Rhodia.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But…I’m here if you do. It’s easier to carry things together than alone.”

Esofi sat down on the bed. She was silent, staring at the window for a long time. Then she said, “Have you ever seen an elf?”

“What?” Adale was not sure how this related to anything that had happened between them tonight and hoped that Esofi was not just trying to distract her. “An elf?”

“Yes.”

“Once. When I was very young, two came to Ieflaria to petition my parents. What does this have to do with—”

“Thiyra stands between Domeysil and the rest of the world,” said Esofi. “Our four nations—Rhodia, Eskas, Etrea, and Dossau—have a force dedicated to making sure the elves remain on their own lands. If not for us, they would be terrorizing the entire world.”

“Are elves really that bad?” asked Adale. She remembered being frightened by them, but she’d been a child at the time.

“They eat people,” said Esofi.

“Are you sure?” Adale could not keep the skepticism from her voice.

But Esofi nodded solemnly. “Talcia’s magic is powerful in Rhodia because she means for us to keep the elves at bay. But we cannot take our blessings for granted. We must hone our skills for our entire lives. Complacency is weakness, and there is no room for weakness in Rhodia.”

“Not even with your children?”

Esofi’s fingertips played at the seams of the bedsheets.

“When I was nine years old, my mother got into a terrible argument with the archpriestess of Merla. I don’t remember what it was about. I’m sure it was something absurd. But they decided that the only way to settle their differences was with a duel.”

“Your mother dueled a priestess?” Adale was not sure which was more difficult to believe: that a queen would behave in such a way, or that an archpriestess would go along with it.

“Well, no,” said Esofi. “My mother told the archpriestess that she wasn’t worth fighting. She said, ‘Beat one of my daughters first, and then I’ll face you.’ I was sure the archpriestess was going to pick Esybele. But instead, she pointed at me. ‘The fat one,’ she said.”

“Did you win?”

“Of course I did. I don’t think it even entered my mind that I might not. Looking back, though…”

“Yes?” prompted Adale when it seemed that Esofi was reluctant to say any more.

“When you’re young, you think everything you experience is normal, because it’s all you know. Then you grow up and get out and realize…maybe not.” Esofi rubbed her eyes. “And your parents are kind, even when they’re angry with you. I don’t think I realized anyone could really be like that.”

Adale reached out to touch Esofi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. It felt weak and inadequate, but she could not think of anything else to say.

“Maybe I don’t actually know what families are supposed to be like,” said Esofi. “I always thought I did…until I came here. And now I feel like I hardly know anything.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” said Adale. “You’re happy most days, aren’t you? That is—you haven’t been pretending all this time, have you?”

“No!” Esofi met her eyes. “I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been in my life. That’s what makes me think I’m doing it all wrong.”

“You think you’re meant to be miserable?”

“It’s so foolish, isn’t it?” Esofi shook her head. “I can hardly make sense of it myself. Of course I don’t want to be unhappy. I came here hoping things would be better than they were at home. And they are! I ought to be grateful for that, not behaving like I’m still back there.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Adale. “If it’s how you were raised, if it’s how you lived…”

“Maybe,” said Esofi quietly.

She wanted to know more, but she knew she could not expect Esofi to recount her entire childhood in a single night—especially when uncovering just this little piece of it had been so arduous. She would have to be patient.

So instead of asking any more questions, Adale wrapped her arms around Esofi and pulled her closer before she pressed a kiss to her neck. “I’m so glad you’re here now.”

Esofi relaxed. “I am too. I think being sent away was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“Certainly the best thing that could have happened to me,” Adale murmured into her hair.

Esofi laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

Adale rested her chin on Esofi’s shoulder and kissed her neck again. “I think you’re the ridiculous one. For example…”

“Yes?”

“For example, you still don’t believe you are the single most beautiful woman in Birsgen, despite the fact that I tell you so at least twice a week.”

“Not this again.”

“At least twice a week.”

“Please.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re mistaken.” They were falling into a conversation they’d had many times before, a familiar old trek that led nowhere. “I think you think you’re telling the truth.”

“You missed your calling; you should have been a Justice.”

Esofi gave her a halfhearted push. “Stop it. You’re so embarrassing.”

“Oh dear,” said Adale. “You should do something to distract me.”