Long May She Reign(2)

I’d been reluctant to say anything to anyone after that.

At first, my father had comforted me—“Court is an odd place, but you’ll get used to it, you’ll make friends, you’ll figure it out”—but I continued to stumble, and “You’ll make friends” became “You’ll survive” became “Freya, could you at least try, for my sake?”

Five years later, I still had no place here. Or, I did, but it was sitting by the wall, practically invisible, the butt of jokes if I was mentioned at all. Awkward Freya, strange Freya, silent stuttering Freya who said rude things by accident and was so very, very plain. Did you hear she does experiments in her cellar? Did you hear she nearly burned her house to the ground? What was she even doing in court, behaving like that?

Or that’s what I assumed. No one gossiped about me in front of my face. No one said much to or about me at all.

I’d decided long ago that I didn’t care. I was going to escape this court as soon as I could. My father insisted I had to try and find a good match, to get married and play a role in court life, but no one had ever shown any interest in me. I’d never found anyone who interested me, either. As soon as my father accepted that, I’d be gone. I’d travel to the continent, perhaps, where research was taken far more seriously, and conduct my experiments there. One day soon.

Because, it turned out, I did care. I cared what people thought of me. I cared what they were saying. And I needed to get out, before their judgment changed me.

“Hi, Freya.”

I turned toward the voice, smiling. I’d only ever had one good friend, but Naomi was so wonderful that I couldn’t imagine needing anyone else. She’d been drawn to me, somehow, when she first moved to the capital with her brother, Jacob, joining me in the corner of awkwardness and pulling me into quiet conversation. We had little in common as far as interests went—she loved novels, stories, romance, and adventure, while I was much happier with equations and research—but our souls clicked.

She looked pretty tonight. She always looked pretty—not the court’s version of beauty, but something softer and sweeter. She had large brown eyes, a tiny pug nose, and ever-present dimples. Her black hair was piled in a dome on top of her head, every twist studded with a gem, and her dark skin shimmered with whichever crushed-jewel powder was currently in fashion.

“Hi,” I said. She slipped onto the chair beside me, wobbling slightly as she maneuvered her massive skirts into place.

“Should you be sitting here, Naomi?” Sophia said. “Not that we aren’t delighted to have your company, but His Majesty worked so hard on the seating arrangements . . .”

“His Majesty won’t mind if I sit here for two minutes, I don’t think,” Naomi said, although she looked down as she said it, her expression unsure. She ducked closer to me. “The people at my table are horrid,” she murmured.

“And you’re surprised?”

“I guess not. But then my brother abandoned me, so it was just me thrown to the wolves. How are you coping?”

“I’m alive. That’s something, isn’t it?”

“Here? Definitely.”

“What are you girls whispering about?” Claire said. “It’s awfully rude to have secrets, you know. We’ll be thinking you’re talking about us next.”

“We’d never gossip about you,” Naomi said. She glanced at the table again, then quickly back at Claire, correcting her gaze. “What would we even say?”

Lots of things, I thought. But Naomi probably meant it. She made fun of the court, but she was always eager to forgive the courtiers themselves for their cruelty and vanity. Every insult became a harmless misunderstanding or good people having a bad day if you allowed Naomi to sit with the story long enough.

“Well, I hope I’m not that boring,” Claire said.

“Tell us,” Sophia said, leaning forward slightly. “How is your brother, Jacob?”

“He’s—well. Thank you.”

“What a handsome young man. I suppose he’ll be finding a girl soon? Or is he enjoying life too much to settle down?”

“I don’t know,” Naomi said. “You’d have to ask him.”

“But surely, as his sister, you must have some inkling. Women’s intuition, no? Young men so rarely know what they want, but you must have a feeling—”

“What about Madeleine Wolff?” Claire said. “She’s not connected to anyone, is she? They would be a wonderful couple. Think how beautiful their children would be!”

“Yes!” Sophia said. “Is your brother close to her, Naomi? We should arrange an introduction, when she returns from her estate. Something so adorable they can’t help but fall in love.”

Naomi was saved from answering by a hush that descended on the room. The king had stood, arms swept out toward the crowd. “Before we enjoy our next course,” he said, “I’ve arranged a little entertainment.”

Other rulers probably had entertainments arranged for them on their birthday. But the king would never leave anything to chance. He had to show how extravagant and benevolent he was, and that meant planning every detail himself.

A troupe of performers ran into the hall through its rear doors. One woman backflipped her way along the hall, passing just behind my and Naomi’s chairs. She shot us a sideways grin as she went. She was followed by more acrobats, people cartwheeling, a man walking on his hands, and jugglers, too, rings flying through the air. Their outfits sparkled, catching the light as they danced, so it almost hurt to look at them.