Something softens in her eyes, or perhaps it’s just a trick of the strange mountain light. It’s still early, the windows full of gold. She looks lovely in it.
Evangeline is very noisy about standing up, letting her chair scrape and her rings clink together. She all but rolls her eyes between us.
“I have some progress to report,” she drawls.
FIVE
Mare
“Officer Samos?”
One of Davidson’s many aides turns in his seat, craning to look at Evangeline.
Officer.
The title was strange on Cal, who I’ve only ever known as a prince and a king, but for Evangeline, it seems against nature. It’s impossible to picture her as subordinate to anyone, let alone acting as a soldier. I wonder what poor Montfortan captain has to deal with giving her orders. Or if she even bothers to turn up on time to whatever she’s doing. If I weren’t sitting in the front of my delegation, I wouldn’t think twice about checking the information packet just to find out. There’s a list of delegates, with photos and summaries of each person here. I certainly pity whoever has to deal with her.
Evangeline is regal as ever, with or without a crown. She even pauses long enough to ensure the undisputed attention of the room. She flicks her single braid over her shoulder, the silver hair glinting beneath the light of the library windows.
After a moment, she speaks, ringed hands clasped in front of her.
“My correspondence with Princess Iris of the Lakelands has been most informative,” she says simply, a smirk tugging at her lips as the room explodes into noisy chaos. She lets it wash over her, enjoying every second.
The Scarlet Guard buzzes around me, not bothering to disguise their whispers. I only catch fragments, most of them some form of the word betrayal.
Farley leans in close to me, her voice rough and movements jerky. “Did you know—” she begins before my glare stops her short.
“How could I?” I growl back. “We’re not exactly pen pals.” I can’t even begin to comprehend what Evangeline is getting at, or what she might accomplish communicating with Iris. I want to assume the best of her—she did it for the cause—but my intuition tells me to prepare for the worst.
At the Nortan table, Cal’s delegation is just as confused as we are. Heads bend together and whispers fly. Julian and Cal turn to each other, and my old mentor’s lips move furiously, saying something no one but Cal can hear. Ada shifts, adding her own assumptions to Julian’s. They listen intently, eyes alight. Anabel jumps to her feet again. Apparently losing her crown has turned her into a rabbit.
“Evangeline, what is the meaning of this?” she snaps, almost scolding. “Premier?”
The premier doesn’t react, stoic as ever. I have to assume he already knew—nothing happens in the Republic without his knowledge. Nor is Evangeline foolish enough to jeopardize her place here, or the safety of the people she loves.
The Montfort delegation is more reactive, whispering like the rest of us. An aide whispers to Ptolemus, who waves him off.
Dread pools in my stomach. I grit my teeth.
Evangeline raises her chin, weathering the low buzz of speculation with ease. “We’ve been exchanging letters for some weeks now. She’s been very responsive.”
Ugh, she’s enjoying this too much.
“To what?” I blurt out.
She smirks at me, one silver eyebrow raised. “You of all people must know what wonderful advice I give,” she says coyly, before turning back to the room. I feel the very familiar urge to spit at her. Forgetting myself, I glance at Cal, only to find him already looking at me. He seems just as exasperated as I am. Despite our traded barbs a moment ago, we share a sigh of frustration.
“I spoke to her as one princess to another,” Evangeline tells the chamber. “I’ve seen my kingdom rise and fall, born of war and ended by war. My father refused to adapt our country, and would have never taken the pains Officer Calore is taking now with his former kingdom.”
“A kingdom he already lost before he ever agreed to our terms,” Farley all but snarls.
At his seat, Cal tightens his jaw, his eyes on the papers in front of him.
Under the table, I put a hand on her wrist. “Easy,” I mutter under my breath. Cal’s got enough on his plate. There’s no use in smacking him around more than we already have.
But Evangeline acquiesces to Farley, extending a hand. “Exactly. He wasn’t able to adapt either, and lost his crown for