Three Dark Crowns (Three Dark Crowns #1) - Kendare Blake Page 0,44
say that she is thin and too petite. After so many years of poisoning, it is unlikely that she will ever fully recover, or regain, the growth she has lost. But her hair and her complexion and the way she moves have all improved.
“I have a present for you,” Natalia says. Her butler, Edmund, enters holding a glass enclosure. Inside, a small red-and-yellow-and-black coral snake stretches toward the top.
“Look who I found sunning herself in a window,” Natalia says.
“Sweetheart?” Katharine exclaims. She pushes her chair back nearly hard enough to knock it over and runs to Edmund to reach inside. The snake recoils slightly and then wraps herself around her wrist.
“I thought I killed her,” she whispers.
“Not quite,” Natalia says. “But I am sure she would like to return to her familiar cage and the warmth of her lamp. And I need to speak to Pietyr alone.”
“Yes, Natalia.” Katharine smiles once at each of them and then leaves, nearly skipping.
“One small gift turns her back into a child,” Natalia says.
“Katharine loves that snake,” says Pietyr. “I would have thought it dead.”
“It is dead. It was found limp and cold in the corner of the kitchen three days after the Gave Noir.”
“Then what is that?” Pietyr asks.
Natalia shrugs. “She will not know the difference. This one is trained the same as the first one.”
She motions again for Edmund, who brings a silver tray and two glasses of her favorite tainted brandy.
“You are making progress,” Natalia says.
“Some. She still only thinks to dress in a way that covers a rash or a jutting rib. And when she is frightened, she still scurries like a rat.”
“Come, Pietyr. We have not treated her so poorly.”
“Perhaps not you. But Genevieve is a monster.”
“My sister is only as severe as I allow. And Katharine’s poison training is not your concern.”
“Not even if it makes my task harder?”
He blows blond hair out of his eyes and slumps in his chair. Natalia smiles behind her brandy. He does remind her so much of herself. One day, he might even rise to become the head of the family, if no suitable daughter comes of age.
“Tell me,” she says. “Is she ready to meet this delegate?”
“I suppose. He should not be hard to impress, in any case, coming from Wolf Spring. Everyone knows that Arsinoe has a face like oatmeal.”
“She may have,” Natalia says. “But Mirabella does not. To hear the Westwoods tell it, she is more beautiful than the night sky.”
“And just as withdrawn and cold,” says Pietyr. “Katharine, at least, has a sense of fun. And she is sweet. You have not beaten that out of her.”
There is something in Pietyr’s tone that Natalia does not like. He sounds too protective. Almost possessive, and that will not do.
“How far have you gone?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Teach her all the tricks you like, but you cannot go too far, Pietyr. Mainlanders are strange. They will want her to go into her marriage a maid.”
Natalia watches him carefully, to see if he will wriggle. He seems disappointed—frustrated, perhaps—but not afraid. He has still not dared to take that step.
“Are you sure they would not value her skill in the bedroom instead?” he asks. Then he shrugs. “I suppose if they do, I can teach her that after they are wed.”
He finishes the last of his brandy in one large swallow and sets the snifter on the table. He would like to be allowed to go, to follow after Katharine and dress and undress her like a doll.
“It is probably for the best, Nephew,” says Natalia. “If you were to bed her, I fear she would fall in love with you. She seems nearly in love with you already, and that is not what we intend.”
Pietyr pushes his empty glass back and forth between his fingers.
“Is it,” she says, more sternly.
“Do not worry, Aunt Natalia,” he says. “Only a king-consort is fool enough to fall in love with a queen.”
Katharine has still not put the snake away when Pietyr comes into her rooms. She has missed her so, she cannot bear to part with her, and sits at her vanity mirror with Sweetheart coiled around her hand, her nose practically pressed to the snake’s poisonous head.
“Katharine,” he says. “Put her away. Let her rest.”
Katharine does as she is told, standing up to lower the snake gently into the warm cage. She leaves the top of it open to reach inside to stroke the snake’s scales.