the king’s court as a handful of leeches sucking the blood from the arm of the Deme people.
“Unbelievable,” my mother whispered. “I am appalled Vivienne has let those malcontents disseminate their nonsense here.”
“I like this picture better than those old woodcuts, though.” I ripped the leeches flyer down and peeked at the back. The signature of the protest’s elusive leader was so splotchy, it looked as if a dozen different people had tried to write it at once. “Laurel is getting bold.”
Laurel’s revolt had been brewing for ages and finally had taken hold in the eastern province of Segance this summer, but the news of it had only just reached us. Côte Verte was a collection of salt-blown woods and port towns on the westernmost coast, and my father, Lord rest his soul, had been a terrible leader. He had spent money as if there were no end to it—there hadn’t been, for there were always residents to tax—and he had died ten years ago, leaving me nothing but a title, a few debts, and copious amounts of shame. I had no doubt that many of my people would support Laurel. I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t.
I was already a terrible lady of Demeine. Why not live up to it?
“It’s no laughing matter,” said my mother. “We are lucky His Majesty has been so light-handed in dealing with them. They demand too much at once.”
My mother was content to let justice trickle down through the ranks, but I suspected Laurel would not be so compliant. Small steps away from the ocean might have seemed like progress to those farther from the water, but when high tide came in, others would still drown.
“Come,” said my mother, pushing open the gate and holding out her hand. “Claim your future, Emilie.”
Within the hour, I would be on my way to Delest and the University of Star-Blessed Wisdom.
They would laugh me out if I attempted to become a physician, so I would be a physician’s hack. I would prove to them how wrong they were. They would have to accept me after that.
I would not be denied my future as a physician.
I followed my mother for the final time. Golden honeysuckle brushed my shoulders. Ivy roses bloomed between the stakes of the fence, leaves a curtain of mottled green and butter yellow. My mother, shoulders relaxed and fingers skimming a row of knee-high lilies, led me down a stone path, and we wound our way closer and closer to the school buildings. The sweet scent of cherries hit my nose, and I turned my face into the breeze. My mother stopped.
Over her shoulder, beyond a thick wall of firs, were the doors to the school.
I shuddered. “Well, is this where you abandon me?”
With any luck, she wouldn’t walk me to the door, which could complicate things. It was tradition for new students to explore the garden, but I was certainly not traditional.
“You’re so dramatic for such a lucky girl.” My mother pulled me into a tight hug, the warmth of her arms a mantle of comfort I hadn’t received or wanted in a long, long time. I didn’t know what to do. We fought too much, too viciously. Her nimble fingers tucked a rose behind my ear. “We are at a turning point in our history. Stay safe and study hard. Make me proud, Emilie.”
I couldn’t promise that.
“I have only ever wanted to help people.” I hugged her back, but the gesture felt empty and awkward. “You understand that, don’t you?”
She pulled away, nodded, and her face fell back into the expressionless mask I knew too well. “You will write to me regularly, and Vivienne will tell me if you attempt to run away.”
“I will not attempt to run away,” I said. I would succeed.
“Good,” said my mother. “If you go straight, this path will lead you to the doors. You have an hour before you are officially late. Don’t be, but do feel free to take a few moments to reflect. This garden is a work of art—Vivienne created it herself without the help of magic. There are, of course, guards at every entrance, whether you see them or not. Don’t get in trouble before school even begins.”
She studied me for a moment, tense, and said, “I love you.”
She didn’t, but I had known it for so long that the lie didn’t sting. It was an old bruise, too yellowed and familiar to hurt.