by travelling as lightly as I did. Have you ever been to Aria Magli, Lady Irvine?”
“Lutetia is the farthest I’ve ever been from home.” Belinda let the Lanyarchan burr come through more strongly in her voice, then deliberately corrected it, trusting the show of provinciality to be considered charming. “I’ve heard that Aria Magli is the most beautiful city in Echon and the most vile. Is it possible that it could be both?”
“Oh, yes,” Akilina said without hesitation. “I think the smell would be appalling in the heat of summer, and yet the music on the canals and the life of the city is irresistible. And, of course, there are the courtesans, who may be the breaking point for villainousness or perfection, depending on your opinion of them. What is yours, Lady Irvine?”
Belinda dropped her eyes to hide a laugh, her evident shyness garnering amusement from Akilina. “Is that a terrible question to ask a young Ecumenic woman?” she asked without remorse. “Can you even imagine such a life, Lady Irvine? Trained in pleasure, educated on all manner of topics—is it freedom, do you think, or is it Hell?”
“I believe we should not be so bold as to define Hell as an earthly conceit,” Belinda murmured, and lifted her eyes. “Nor is freedom found in anything but walking God’s path and casting off our sins to be welcomed in Heaven at the end of our days. I cannot say that I approve of a woman selling her body for money, but I wouldn’t presume to say God had no reason for asking her to do so. My lady.”
Akilina’s dark eyebrows shot up and she leaned back to clap her hands together thrice, lazy staccato sounds. “The provincial has teeth,” she said with an edge of admiration. “I think I see why Your Majesty holds such fondness for the country of her first crown, now. Forgive me, Lady Irvine.” She leaned forward again to give Belinda a frank and appraising look. “I baited you, and you’ve set me in my place. Shall we be friends from here on out?”
Belinda smiled, an open and delighted expression, and thought that friendship was not made on words even as she murmured, “It would be an honour, my lady.”
* * * *
A near-commoner from Lanyarch did not refuse Khazarian nobility when the latter said, “Walk with me, Beatrice,” regardless of her feelings on the matter, or even the surreptitious glance given by her high-born lover. Javier nodded, one barely visible dip of his chin; Belinda thought she might not have seen it, had she not been looking to the prince for a cue. Dinner was over, sweet wine drunk by the bottleful after it, and the polite discussion that lingered was Akilina’s and Sandalia’s to end. The duchess watched Sandalia for weariness, and shortly after Belinda herself would have begged off, did so with grace and self-effacing apology. Sandalia granted the Khazarian contingent their leave, and only then did Akilina turn her hawk’s smile on Belinda and extend her invitation. The bells had run the first small hour of the morning a long time since, and Belinda, as much as anyone, longed for her bed. That Akilina knew it she had no doubt, but while the Khazarian countess might not dare put out a queen, she had no such qualms about inconveniencing Belinda.
“What do you think of us, Beatrice?” Akilina tucked her arm through Belinda’s and dawdled down the hall outside the dining chambers, in no more rush to sleep than the moon was.
“I think all those beards must itch,” Belinda said promptly, and earned a laugh for her efforts.
“Lanyarchan men wear beards, don’t they?”
“They do, so I have confidence that I’m right.” Belinda offered a smile and Akilina squeezed her arm with pleasure.
“What else do you think? I’ve never met a Lanyarchan, so I want to hear everything. It’s my small way of understanding the world, in seeing how others see us.” Akilina’s explanation was guileless, her expression open, and Belinda smiled again.
“Surely you’re not old enough to be so wise, my lady.”
“Surely you’re not old enough to be so skilled at flattery.” Akilina laughed again, more easily than even Beatrice did, and Belinda, walking so close to her, thought that there was no artifice to her humour. Witchpower whispered of Akilina’s curiosity about the Lanyarchan provincial who’d captured Javier’s eye—for clearly she had, if he’d entered the dining hall with her—and a certain glee in keeping Beatrice from Javier’s bed, even if only