the bottom of the canal. She refused a passing servant’s offer of wine, though she badly wanted some; her imagination was morbid enough already. And though she’d never admit it, the steady sway of the barge unsettled her.
The Daphne drifted slowly across the water, the carven nymph at her prow gilded with lamplight. Eventually they would alight at the island, where more food and wine and music waited, and doubtless a game of hide-and-seek in the hedge, which would quickly devolve into tipsy trysts. She and Nikos had taken advantage of their share of those. Now the thought of him or Ashlin wandering off in the dark sent a chill down her back.
Soft footsteps and a hiss of silk skirts drew her attention, and she turned to find Ginevra Jsutien approaching, her gown shining in the lamplight, a wineglass sparkling in her hand. Even distracted and paranoid, it was hard not to give Ginevra one’s complete attention when she crossed a room.
Thea’s sister had married an Aravind, and Ginevra had inherited his copper skin and lustrous black hair. Gowned in azure and blue and yellow topazes, she shone like a flame. Savedra had to concede the merits of a match between her and Nikos; the girl had wits to go with her lovely face, not to mention Jsutien wealth and trade as a dowry.
Her dark beauty would remind the people of Lychandra, though the late queen had held the added attraction of being a nobody from the Archipelago—in truth the child of wealthy merchants and titled landholders, but that wasn’t as romantic—instead of a scion of a great house. In choosing her, Mathiros had thrown over a dozen daughters of the Octagon Court, and had angered the Eight again when he betrothed Nikos to a foreign princess.
It was a minor miracle and a credit to palace security that no assassin had been successful yet.
“What are you contemplating so seriously?” Ginevra asked, her voice light and musical. Savedra felt like a clumsy rasping thing beside her. She closed her hands on her fan to keep from brushing at her own midnight skirts. Both shades were close enough to royal sapphire to be daring, but far enough to prevent scandal.
“Assassinations,” she said, before she could think better of it.
“Really? I didn’t think it was that boring a party yet.” Savedra thought that she turned away quickly enough to hide her frown, but Ginevra’s eyebrows quirked. “Either you don’t like my jokes, you’re angry about our dresses, or…”
She stopped herself from snapping her fan in annoyance, but the sticks rattled softly with the effort. “Or maybe I don’t find assassins amusing.”
“Does anyone?”
Savedra couldn’t keep from glancing at the dais, where Thea laughed at something Nikos had said. “I imagine some people do.”
“Ah.” Ginevra blinked. Beneath kohl-dusted lids, her eyes were a striking grey. The stones draping her collarbones flashed with her sigh. “And so you judge me by my aunt’s schemes.”
The forthrightness of it startled her, and she answered in kind. “How can I not, when you benefit from them?”
“She doesn’t speak of them to me, you know.”
“No. You would need to be guiltless, in case she was caught.” A predicament she was all too familiar with. What should have been righteous anger soured in her mouth.
“And since you’re speaking to me of this and neither Thea nor I are in chains, I gather she hasn’t been caught.” Ginevra paused, studying the wine in her glass. “I don’t want anyone harmed, even if it would see me queen.”
“But you let her scheme and cling to your innocence.”
“Do you think she would stop for my sensibilities, for ethics or mercy?” This time her eyebrows rose high enough to crease her brow. “Would your mother?”
Her fan snapped now, but Savedra lowered it again, conceding the point with a wry twist of her lips. “No.”
“I don’t want to be your enemy.” And saints help her, the girl sounded as if she meant it. Sounded almost wistful.
“Your aunt will be, as long as she sends assassins after Nikos or the princess.”
Ginevra turned, leaning her stomach against the rail, graceful and sad as the Lady of Laurels on the figurehead. “I had another aunt, you know.”
“Yes.” She could name most of the members of the great houses, including Thea’s sisters. Talia, the youngest, was Ginevra’s mother. Tassia, the eldest… The realization settled cold in her gut even as Ginevra spoke.
“Do you really think she died in childbirth?” She smiled wryly at Savedra’s momentary discomposure. “I know I’m a