Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) - Kendare Blake Page 0,80
the same to Mirabella? Or Arsinoe?”
“My sisters did not want it. They chose to flee. Do you still dream of how it would be had the Ascension gone another way? Do you imagine yourself in the king-consort’s apartment? Do you see your father wandering the fortress, barking orders?”
“If Arsinoe or Mira had won, there would be no rebellion. No Legion Queen, no rising mist. Your precious Natalia would still be alive. You were the worst queen that anyone could have hoped for.”
At the mention of Natalia, Katharine’s fingers dig hard into the arms of the throne. “The only reason you live is because to kill you would sadden my sister.”
“And because Arsinoe and Jules have your boy,” he says. “People talk. I’ve heard plenty about your tantrums, stomping around because they came and stole him right from under your nose. Sending that murderess, Rho, to attack the people of Bastian City in retaliation. How do you think Mirabella is going to react to that?”
“She heard me give the order. She is a queen. She knows what it is to be at war.” But would she truly understand? When she knew the extent of it and the havoc that Rho would wreak, infested as she was by dead queens . . . Mirabella would look at her like she is a monster. And perhaps she is.
Katharine backs away. She will not let a mainland boy, a former suitor, get into her head. It will all be different after the rebellion is over. And after the dead queens are gone for good.
“I think you will find that Mirabella and I understand each other completely,” she says. “Before long I think you will see we are allied in ways that not even she imagined.”
“She will never turn against Arsinoe.”
“Then why has she not once asked me to let you go?” Katharine asks. She snaps her fingers to the guards near the door. “Tie him up again. I have lost my appetite.”
“Mirabella.” Luca greets her at the door of her chamber and kisses her on both cheeks. “It is nice to see you here. And not hidden behind a veil.” She leads Mirabella inside to a tray of tea and savories and the meringue cookies she likes. “How are Bree and Elizabeth?”
Mirabella walks the edge of the room, looking out the windows down upon the capital from all directions. They are high in the temple; the only things higher are the Volroy towers.
“Elizabeth yearns for spring. She is worried that one of the bee colonies in the apiary has not wintered well. And as for Bree . . .” She reaches out and opens a window, letting chill air rush in, sending Luca’s papers flying up from her desk.
“Troublemaker.” Luca laughs as she snatches rolling parchment out of the breeze. Her hands are still fast. And not the least bit stiff.
“As for Bree, you would know better than I would, since you are on the Black Council together.”
Luca presses the last of the papers to her desk and weights them with a stone. “Bree has become a fine politician. Fair, and she sees things from interesting angles. She still needs help controlling her temper. She singed Paola Vend last week over a disagreement about import tax.”
“Paola Vend could do with some singeing.”
“Indeed,” Luca says as Mirabella takes up a meringue. “But what brings you here, Mira? Though I wish it were not so, our afternoons spent in the pleasure of each other’s company are over.”
“You are not happy to see me?”
“I am always happy to see you. I regret that our goals have . . . estranged us.” The High Priestess sighs. “But what use are regrets? We learn our lessons, and we do our best.”
Mirabella nods. The meringue breaks apart in her fingers, and she sets it down upon a saucer.
“What I tell you now,” she says, “I tell you as the High Priestess, as well as my old mentor and friend. It was told to me in the queen’s confidence, and I am entrusting you with it. Because I feel that you want her reign to succeed, and to preserve the line of queens.”
“Yes. Of course I do.”
“And I am telling you”—Mirabella looks at her levelly—“because I suspect that you already know.”
Luca’s steady eyes lose focus for less than a blink before she inhales and nods resignedly.
“The dead queens. She showed you.”
“She told me,” Mirabella amends. “I do not think I would like to be shown.”