Ruined - Amy Tintera Page 0,7
She didn’t know why the king had taken her sister instead of simply killing her, but nothing would stop her from figuring it out and rescuing Olivia.
She let go of the necklace, the pendant falling against her chest. If anyone asked, she could simply say it was a circle. A gift from her parents.
She pulled her hair back, looping it into a simple knot behind her head. Davina returned and buttoned the back of the dress, then escorted her out of her rooms.
Aren stood near her door with two guards, outfitted in a blue-and-white Lera guard uniform. She had to resist the urge to rush over to him. Aren had been by her side constantly for the past year, and she felt as though she’d lost a limb without him nearby.
Em wanted to ask him how he was settling in, if he’d found out anything, if anyone suspected something odd, but Davina quickly brushed past him and the other guards. The maid did take a quick glance over her shoulder at Aren, a blush creeping over her cheeks when he smiled at them. Em suppressed a laugh. The list of girls blushing over Aren never ended.
Em and Davina rounded several corners, and Em immediately lost track of where they were. The hallways were all the same except for the vibrant colors on the walls that changed each time they turned. The castle was laid out in a square, so at least it was a comfort to know that when she inevitably got lost, she could keep turning corners and end up back where she started.
Deep blue rugs ran down the center of the floors, and light spilled across the floors from the large windows. The windows were open and faced the east, so the ocean was barely visible. A cool, salty breeze blew through the hallways. Lera was much warmer than Vallos or Ruina, the sky completely cloudless. She could see why the people of Lera had forced out the Ruined generations ago so that they could remain. She wouldn’t want to leave this place either.
Davina stopped and rapped on a large wooden door. It was quickly opened by a young woman, and the maid scurried away.
The woman escorted Em inside. The queen stood in the center of the room, her bright-red gown in contrast to the cream-colored outfits the two women next to her wore.
The large room featured racks of dresses, pants, blouses, and a wall entirely of shoes. The queen’s closet. She couldn’t help but hope that she’d get to experience that kind of wardrobe during her stay. If she had to deal with these people, she could at least wear some beautiful clothes while doing it.
Em scanned the room for weapons. A mirror was attached to one wall, but it was too large for her to break. There was a large platter of fruit on the table, and the white ceramic plate was likely sturdy enough to do some damage when smashed against a skull. One, three, six steps and she could weave around the maids to get to the far corner of the room—grab the plate, duck a maid, smash it against the queen’s head, spin around and push a maid away, use an edge of the broken plate to cut a jagged line across the queen’s throat. Dead.
“Mary,” the queen said, extending her arms to her.
Em clenched her fingers into a fist, fighting back the urge to scream. She hadn’t counted on how difficult it would be to stand in the presence of the people who had destroyed her life. When she’d stepped out of the carriage yesterday, she’d almost grabbed Aren’s sword and swung it at the king’s head.
She took in a slow breath. Calm. Steady. Her mother was the scariest woman she’d ever known—the scariest woman most people had ever known—and it was partly because she never lost her temper. If she wanted to kill you, you didn’t know it until the knife was already in your gut.
Em needed to be like her mother right now.
Perhaps the queen realized Em didn’t want to be hugged, because she took both of Em’s hands instead and squeezed them. When she smiled, the small half-circle scar on her left cheek moved. It was the only interesting thing on an otherwise boringly beautiful face.
“How was your first night? Were your rooms adequate?”
“They were perfect, Your Majesty,” Em said.
“Please, call me Fabiana,” the queen said, dropping Em’s hands. “We’ll be family soon.”
“Of course.” Fabiana was a terrible name,