Three Dark Crowns (Three Dark Crowns #1) - Kendare Blake Page 0,62

not matter. Rho is right. Sara will do as the temple bids.

“Do not burden yourself,” Luca says. “What comes to pass will come to pass. It is only that I would see the island prepared. You have always been a strong voice for the temple, Sara. It would be best if the people began to hear of this before they must watch it happen.”

Sara nods. She will be as good at spreading their tale as she has been at expanding Mirabella’s fame. By the night of the Quickening, the people will be waiting and wondering. Perhaps they will pick up the knives themselves.

One of the novice priestesses approaches to warm their cups with fresh tea. Through the folds of her robes, Luca glimpses the silver of the temple’s long, serrated blades. Come Beltane, every faithful priestess will carry one.

It is not a lie, Rho told her. It is part truth. And it is for the good of the island. Someone must take things in hand, if their chosen queen will not.

After the Quickening Ceremony, when the crowd at Beltane is drunk, and in ecstasy from Mirabella’s performance, the priestesses will step forward to take Arsinoe’s and Katharine’s heads. They will cut them at the necks and sever the arms at the shoulders. And when it is over, they will have a new queen.

GREAVESDRAKE MANOR

The Arrons welcome the Chatworth delegation the only way they know how: with a party, though not a great, glittering party in the north ballroom. While there is plenty that glitters, the party they throw for the Chatworth boy is meant to be an introduction between the queen and her potential king-consort. They will hold this meeting in the small dining room on the second floor, where it can be more intimate. And where Katharine can be placed at the heart, like a centerpiece.

It is exciting to have the house prepared for a party again, and filling up with people. Cousin Lucian has returned with servants from his household, and he bows whenever he sees Katharine in the halls. There is a curious smile on his face when he does it, and she cannot decide whether the joke is with her or on her.

Unfortunately, the return of people to Greavesdrake also meant the return of Genevieve, who has taken her exile very personally. As the younger sister, she hates when Natalia excludes her, and since her return has insisted on being involved in every aspect of the planning.

“My scalp is still sore from so many styles braided into it,” Katharine says, leaning back against Pietyr. They have hidden themselves away in the stacks of the library, one of the few places she can be alone with Pietyr since Genevieve returned.

“Poor Giselle’s fingers must ache as well,” she continues. “Genevieve is never pleased with my hair.”

“Your hair is beautiful,” says Pietyr. “It is perfect.”

Genevieve had ordered braid after braid and bun after bun. She ordered beads of jet and pearl to be woven in, only to tear them out again. And all that just to declare that Katharine’s neck is still too thin, and she should wear her hair down to hide it.

“Sometimes, I think that she wants me to fail,” Katharine whispers.

“Do not listen to her,” Pietyr says, and kisses a sore red scab near her temple. “After the suitor has gone, Natalia will order her back to her house in the city. You will not have to see her again until Beltane.”

She twists in his arms to kiss him.

“You must kiss the Chatworth boy just like that,” he says. “It will be difficult to find the right moment during this small, ill-conceived dinner party. But there will be a time when you can steal away.”

“What if I do not like him?”

“You may grow to. But if you do not, it does not matter. You are the queen and must have your choice of consorts.”

He touches her cheek and then lifts her chin. He would not see any of the delegates ensnared by Mirabella. And neither would she.

William Chatworth Jr. is a handsome enough boy. His looks are not striking, like Pietyr’s, but he has strong shoulders, a solid jawline, and very short hair the color of wet sand. His eyes are an unremarkable shade of brown, but they are steady, even seated as he is in the midst of a poisoners’ dinner party.

He came alone, without his mother or even his father, and with only two attendants as an escort. From the tense look on his