Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) - Kendare Blake Page 0,51

a pretty silver pendant. “Forgive me. Such days should always be appreciated.” Across the room, Luca laughs as Bree shows off her beaded skirt. For the briefest of moments, the High Priestess’s eyes meet Mirabella’s. What are you waiting for? her old eyes ask. Do you think you will have forever to find your answers?

“Katharine. How fares your Pietyr?”

Katharine clears her throat.

“He is well. As well as he has been. Why do you ask?”

“I know it must weigh heavily on your mind. And . . . I would like to see him.”

“See him?”

“Visit him,” Mirabella amends. “And I would like also to see Greavesdrake Manor, where you were raised.”

Katharine studies her curiously, but Mirabella’s expression does not waver.

“Of course. I will arrange it.”

Bree comes to show off her skirt, and Mirabella admires the beadwork. She steps up to the table and runs her hand over the handles of the ornamental daggers. Such finery. It is hard to imagine that Jules Milone would wear it someday. Hard to imagine that she would command the queensguard army in a crown and a gown. Or that Luca would ever bow to her.

Mirabella had meant it when she told Bree and Elizabeth that she had no allegiance to either Katharine or the rebellion. But for there to be no queen of the line within the West Tower . . . She would be lying if she said it did not feel unnatural.

She goes to the window and looks down; from there, she can see the inner ward of the Volroy grounds, where Rho sits astride a large white horse directing rows and rows of queensguard soldiers through their drills. Even if she cannot make out the words, she hears Rho’s booming bark and watches the soldiers respond with crisp precision.

“She is very good,” Katharine says, joining her at the window. “A great asset to the Black Council. As I am sure she was to you in Rolanth.”

“Rho’s first loyalty was to the Goddess,” Mirabella replies. “And it seems, to the line of succession.”

“She will be of much use against the rebellion.”

“I am sure she will be.” Below, Rho has shed her white hood, and her red hair blazes down her back. She is the Commander of the Queensguard now. Hardly a priestess at all.

INDRID DOWN

Arsinoe and Billy slip through the early-morning streets of the capital dressed in warm gray cloaks. He carries a basket, as if on his way to the marketplace. She carries nothing. Before they parted ways with Emilia and Mathilde outside the city, she asked them to dress her up to look like someone else. Nothing too fancy to draw the eye. She wanted the clothes of a merchant or a bookkeeper. So they left her in her soft brown trousers, and Mathilde lent her a vest of goldenrod to button over a clean white shirt. Then they twisted her short hair into a pair of loose low buns, a few strands tugged free to slightly obscure her scars. She does not know whether she looks like a bookkeeper, but she certainly does not look like herself.

“Good Goddess,” Arsinoe mutters as they walk along the side streets, doing their best to keep their feet out of slushy, wet pockets in the pavement. “I’d hoped I’d never see this place again.” She sniffs. “But at least in the winter it doesn’t smell.” They have nearly reached their destination now; the towers of the Volroy are clearly visible, blotting out the sky as they pass between buildings.

“I don’t like this,” Billy says. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“Alone is safer. And I won’t have to be dragging someone along behind me who doesn’t know the ways.”

They hurry to the end of an alley and stop short. Another few cross streets and they will be at the Volroy. Arsinoe puts her hands on Billy’s shoulders. “You should stay here.”

“Why? I’m dressed like a Fennbirnian. No one will notice if I go onto the grounds with you and leave alone.” He glares up at the towers. “How are you going to reach the secret passageways, anyhow? Is there some other entrance? Something underground?”

“If there is, I don’t know it. I’ve just got to go in with the other folk who seek governance. I’ll slip into the passageways once I find one.”

Billy looks at her, aghast. “You never said—! You’ll be recognized!”

“Maybe not. If I’m only glimpsed by queensguard and no one from the actual council, I doubt they’ll realize who I am. Not dressed like this and